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Telamon had not shown up nearly often enough to check on that human, he thought to himself. He whole-heartedly hated iTrapped, and wished him dead, but at the same time there was something about the way the corners of his mouth twitched into a scowl that excited him.
There was no doubt about it; iTrapped was the most intriguing mortal Telamon had ever met. His eyes were always hidden behind that screen of his, just as Telamon hid his within a hood. He had a perpetual poker face, and the lack of movement created a mystery Telamon wanted to solve.
So Telamon came to him without a reason. Telamon shoved his way into iTrapped's life and reveled in being forced out.
Today, he was going to show up uninvited, again. iTrapped, he'd noted, had a larger house than most mortals. It was what would be typically considered ‘luxurious’. According to his own words, he was a ‘prince’.
Telamon had no idea what that meant. Mortals and their silly titles, he would never understand nor did he want to. Unless it was an integral part of the mystery of iTrapped, in which case he would memorize the rankings himself and master their language.
iTrapped merely looked annoyed when he appeared in the doorway. Or, Telamon guessed iTrapped was annoyed; the shift of his expression was so slight there really was no telling.
“What do you want?”
“Nothing.”
iTrapped stood there, silently.
“Why don't you ever wear anything different?”
Telamon had worn many different outfits before. iTrapped simply hadn't seen it. And besides, his robes were comfortable. Why would he have any need to wear new clothing?
“Don’t answer that. I'm taking you shopping.”
Telamon was… not completely adverse to this idea. If nothing else, it would be an opportunity, and a unique experience.
Most in SFOTH held no intention of inviting their ‘god’ to go shopping with them, after all.
“Understood.”
Telamon agreed.
“Telamon will fly iTrapped and him to the nearest shopping mall.”
“We're driving.” iTrapped said factually.
Telamon scowled. “And what purpose does that serve?”
“The last I checked,” iTrapped looks at Telamon like a raccoon he just saved from scavenging through a garbage bin, “Normal people drive.”
Telamon cocked his head, like iTrapped had just grown another one. “Neither he nor iTrapped are normal; what a farce it would be to pretend.”
Telamon imagined that, after that statement, an eyeroll went along with iTrapped’s huff. He couldn’t entirely ever know; the screen protected iTrapped from the consequences of that. Though, if Telamon didn’t lie to himself, he would never make iTrapped suffer like another mortal would at such an inane gesture.
If he knew of it, he’d probably praise the man.
“He will… humor iTrapped.”
“I don’t suppose you have a driver’s license?” iTrapped snarked.
“Why would he trifle with such a thing? He’s got wings to carry him.”
“I’ll drive.” iTrapped said, grabbing his keys out of his pocket and walking inside of the house. Telamon followed him, closing the door softly behind him. He thought, as he walked down a flight of stairs to where iTrapped kept his cars, that he should’ve slammed it, just to see what the reaction would be.
iTrapped looked between his cars, debating, before eventually settling on a sleek, ice-blue sports model. Telamon thought it looked vaguely familiar, though the blue crystal decals on the sides made it difficult, if not downright impossible, for him to recall where he’d seen it. Not that he cared about where iTrapped got his car, of course. He planned to kill the mortal eventually; it was just another red thread of mystery.
While iTrapped got into the car with ease, Telamon’s wings were evidently a hurdle to overcome. No matter how he attempted to enter, they continued to hit the roof.
“You’re an admin.”
“And what does that have to do with his inability to enter?”
“Can’t you just,” iTrapped waved his hand around, clearly annoyed, “command them away?”
Telamon blinked, looking at iTrapped like he’d just enthusiastically suggested to go dumpster diving.
“Command… his wings away?” Telamon barks a laugh. “Say he can; why would he?”
“So that I don’t drive away without you, bloody bird.” iTrapped snarked back.
“Have it iTrapped’s way.”
Telamon pulled up his admin panel. It was a grave mistake to ask that of him, though he was mostly irritated rather than insulted. He typed in a few commands, on an instinct that he’d had since he found himself in Robloxia, and stumbled forward as the weight left his back. He regained his balance quickly; it must have been something left over from the fourth dimension, the knowledge of how to right himself without them.
iTrapped stared at him as he got in the passenger’s seat. His back felt empty, unguarded without wings; he leaned against the seat’s back to compensate. But the awkward feeling quickly dissipated, followed by vague relief, which led him to confusion like a bloodhound on the trail.
“It should be about a ten minute drive.” iTrapped said, to which Telamon nodded.
There was a tense silence the entire drive, while scenery scrolled by; there was familiarity to it, and Telamon felt like memories lay on the tip of his tongue, though guarded and restricted from him. Only one word came into his mind, which he uttered, before even the memory of that vanished.
iTrapped looked at him weirdly after that, at least, that was his interpretation of the quick glance over his shoulder.
When they finally arrived, he pulled the admin panel back up and undid his commands. He stumbled backward a few steps, knocking into the car; iTrapped snickered at him.
“I’d thought you did that more often.”
“Telamon never has a reason to do,” his face twists in disgust when he said, “that.”
“I see it’s that horrendous to have an ordinary number of limbs? Alright.” iTrapped looked at the mall. “Follow my lead. Act vaguely Robloxian. Preferably don’t kill anyone.”
“He has no reason to. He may, however, ban.”
That word made iTrapped’s perfect, confident posture disintegrate, his teeth clench, his hands shake as he pressed the button that locks the car. His voice wavers.
“Avoid that, too.”
Telamon smiled at the discomfort; it’s fun to see it from iTrapped, for out of all people, he is one of the least expressive. And so, the rat king began to unravel.
There was another silence as they walked to the entrance of the mall, one broken by a stream of cameras, gasps, and people blocking their way. Bits and pieces of excited conversation reached Telamon’s ears; “is that the prince?”, “no way Telamon’s here”, “he’s gay?”, among others, but he paid it no mind, pushing past the tides and grabbing iTrapped’s hand.
His skin was soft, smooth; it was a myriad of things Telamon’s rough and calloused hand wasn’t. He turned immediately, rough anger melting into smooth annoyance as he saw that it was just Telamon.
“You could bother to be civilised and tell me before you grabbed my hand.” He said.
“He did not wish to loose iTrapped in the crowd.”
iTrapped stopped walking to look at him. Telamon pretended his eyes were wide, owlish.
“You’re bonkers.”
Telamon chuckled. “Perhaps he is.”
People stopped bothering them when they finally got to the doors. Instead of crowding around them, they parted. It may have been out of either respect or fear; though, Telamon didn’t care which one it was. He reveled in both, and it seemed iTrapped felt quite the same.
“We’re here.” iTrapped lead him into a men’s clothing store. An employee walking by stopped to gape at the two. Telamon recognized them; he’d had to ban them from his top SFOTH arena, because they were using exploits to rack up KOs.
“Sleepy.” He acknowledged; they jumped at that.
“You know them?” iTrapped asked.
“SleepyXD caused… issues.” Telamon explains. “He was forced to take action.”
“In SFOTH, I assume?” iTrapped sounds amused.
“Where else?”
Sleepy steers clear of them, and they’re greeted by another employee; just as nervous, but without the historical baggage of being banned from SFOTH. Her nametag reads, “Luna”. She takes a deep breath, to psyche herself up, and begins the speech every single one of them has been taught.
“Welcome to Gatas, how can I help you today?”
iTrapped puts a hand up before Telamon can speak. “It recently came to my awareness that our esteemed administrator wears only his robes.”
The statement was objectively false, but who was Telamon to correct him?
Luna swallows her spit. “Can we help you find something else?”
“Yes, you can.” iTrapped sounds irritated, though since his posture doesn’t hunch over in the way Telamon has noticed it does when he’s actually mad, he can tell it’s just an act to get this over with faster; iTrapped clearly doesn’t want to spend any more time with Telamon than he has to.
“Okay…” She leads them over to rack of clothing. “We’ll have to custom tailor to account for…” she gestures to Telamon’s wings. “They’re not normally attached to our clientele.”
Some Robloxians don fake wings for their appearance. Very few are actually avian; it’s one of the things Telamon most despises in the world, that imitation of his presence for “aesthetic”. It is a mockery.
“That’s fine.” iTrapped dismisses. “I’m capable of covering the cost, regardless of what he fancies.”
“So is he.”
“So is Telamon.” iTrapped snaps, and then whispers, “everybody here is quite aware that you’re minted, bloody bird.”
“And everybody here is aware of iTrapped’s insecurity and need to prove iTrapped’s worth.” Telamon whispers into his ear.
“Shut your beak.”
“Telamon is not in possession of a beak unless he chooses to be.” Telamon retorts.
“C-can you please select an outfit you’d like to have custom made?!” Luna squeaks.
Telamon finds something suitable. It’s a basic tuxedo, with nothing interesting whatsoever about it; iTrapped clucks his tongue in disapproval, then pulls Luna to the side. Telamon assumes he thinks he can’t hear him; unfortunately for iTrapped, Telamon has hearing befitting of an owl.
“Add sun embroidery. With the luxury thread; the real gold kind. Bright check bullion, for accents, but create the base of the pattern out of Flatworm, it’ll look smoother that way. Put that on the peak lapels, but put sword embroidery on the top collar.”
“With which kind of thread, s-sir?” She stammers.
“Couching thread, still gold. And for the buttons, do put his crest on it.”
“He has a crest?”
“Every admin has a crest.” iTrapped dismisses. “Additionally, add sword embroidery onto the pocket square. And if this isn’t done by hand, I will see to it myself that you lose your job, do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s prince to you, Prince iTrapped.”
“Prince iTrapped.” She corrects herself. “Where would you like us to source the patterns for it?”
“The usual location.”
She cocks her head. “Where?”
“The only good designer; anybody with class would know who I’m referring to.”
“It’ll be 560,000 Robux.” She said, entering the purchase into the register.
“I’ll-”
Telamon steps forward. “If he is done listening to a conversation, he would like to pay the price instead of letting the financial burden fall on iTrapped.”
iTrapped visibly flinched, looking back at Telamon with a half outstretched hand hovering awkwardly in the air. The screen over his eyes flickered for a few seconds; with Telamon’s keen eyesight, he captured every micro-movement of his crystal blue eyes in that instant, the way they darted from him to his hands, and he savored it.
But then, it was over again.
Telamon walked past iTrapped and waved his hand over the register, which immediately fulfilled the transaction without resistance. Luna stared at it in mild shock, which cleared after she remembered that he was an admin, and could simply do that.
While Telamon began to leave the establishment, iTrapped gave Luna a few last instructions.
“When the suit is completed, deliver it to my castle. Telamon will retrieve it from me.”
“Yes, Prince iTrapped.”
iTrapped caught up to Telamon, who was on his way out. Telamon turned his eyes over to iTrapped, who at the moment was giving a brief and wistful look at the ice skating rink.
“If iTrapped wishes to skate, iTrapped can simply say so.” Telamon stated, “Instead of choosing to look pathetic.” In truth, iTrapped didn’t look pathetic at the moment; his hair framing his face and his posture, at that time perfect, made him elegant. He was like a picture out of a storybook; a prince in a tower to be saved by his knight.
iTrapped shook his head, turning away from the rink. “I don’t.” He lied through his teeth. Telamon narrowed his eyes at iTrapped. He wasn’t interested in skating; Telamon had never done it before, and frankly, the ice set him on edge; it was a stark contrast to the fire that danced across his palms when he called for it. But he knew it would be different for iTrapped, who wore a crown of ice and looked at that rink like an old home he’d abandoned.
He looked down and found iTrapped’s hand, which he promptly took in a rough grip.
“HEY! What the-”
“iTrapped and he will be going ice skating. Don’t bother arguing, it’s pointless.”
iTrapped scoffed harshly. “In case you’re entirely lacking in the most basic of understanding, I am not currently in possession of my skates.”
“Easily remedied.” Telamon dismissed, summoning a portal and reaching his hand in.
iTrapped’s skates were gorgeous, elegant things. Their blades were the same ice as his crown; a kind that would never melt, known as six phased ice, whereas the boot was a pale off-white, with blue embroidery of snowflakes that increased in concentration closer to the sole, until the entire area smoothly transitioned into the ice.
When Telamon’s hand grazed against the blades as he handed them to iTrapped, he involuntarily let out a high-pitched whistle of pain.
It was like the ice dug into his very core, the way the cold of it travelled down his arm and into his lungs; for a brief second, the room itself seemed to drop away from him, and he struggled to regain his same neutrality. He knew iTrapped noticed, because he recoiled, as if Telamon was a wild animal.
A bloody bird, so to speak.
Telamon teleported away before iTrapped could say anything.