If you give a mortal a boon (1)

Madison indulged in his greed to excess. That must be why I hate him. Other people hated him for other reasons; his brutish behavior, his ignorant parents. Other, more reasonable things. But for me it was his greed. And now I could see just how greedy he was. Quantified. Measured. The lights denoting each of the sins that he indulges in flickered above his head. The power that I had asked Nezha for was an interesting one for sure: The ability to see beyond normal limits. It had taken quite a while for my friends to pick the boons that they wanted. But I had always wanted this power. Spending nights writing in journals and notebooks, looking for new things to record and ponder. And I knew that a power like this was the perfect way to find new fodder for my ever-active imagination. We had all agreed to let the others dictate our power's limitations. It wouldn't be fun otherwise. Julian had come up with a simple counter to my ability: Whenever someone looks at my eyes, my power is temporarily deactivated.

The heads of people passing underneath me were flickering with light. Small motes of fire formed laurels. Madison was walking his dogs, a western eye, and a terimonen. Both breeds are large and imposing, and hungry. I have never seen those dogs happy, save for when they get fed. Currently, they were trying to smell the passersby on the sidewalk, notably those who had food and drink. Madison wasn't trying to restrain them, instead he would cross the street whenever someone was carrying a piece of food, to their side, just to let the dogs clamber over the stranger. A bright crimson mote caught my attention, Argo had seen Madison's antics and was walking towards him. A crimson light denoted wrath. I know Argo well enough to be confident in his self-control, but the mote shown brighter than any I had seen yet. But even with that, I remained in the window, watching. I trusted Argo, I believed he wouldn't act on his wrath, sure enough, the flame began to dim. Argo slowed his pace and called out, only a muffled shout made it through the glass, but whatever he had said was enough to piss off Madison. I should draw this. I turned my back to the window for a moment to grab my sketchbook. Barking and growling made me spin around though. The two enormous dogs had charged towards Argo, but got caught in their own leashes, not tripped over, caught.

The scene might have looked impossible or extremely unlucky to anyone else. I knew better. Argo had a more material boon, he could control an extremely fine thread which can't be cut, but also can't cut anything more than water. I began to ponder how Argo had managed to tie up the dogs with their own leash. Maybe he wrapped his thread around the leash and controlled it that way, it wouldn't be too hard, but it would take quite a lot of focus to pull that off. From what I can remember, he must actively think about moving the thread, meaning that his focus will always be elsewhere. Madison had come in for a charge, but the leash, being moved by the thread, caused him to trip and land face first on the concrete. The crimson mote above his head which had been radiant since the dogs were caught began to flare higher. More shouting, a foot on a nose, a fist fight, and a cry for help later, Argo walked onto my front porch and rang the doorbell. I put down my drawing of the brawl and went to greet him.

My dad was at the door, bringing Argo inside, who was chaffed and cut from the battle. My mother could be heard around the hall looking for anti-septic gel and band-aids. "Kendal! Where are the bandages?!" She cried out, as I turned the corner to face her. "No need to yell, they're in the white crate on the top shelf on the right. Where they've always been." I reached over my mom's shoulder, who is far shorter than the rest of the family and slid the old plastic crate with the first aid supplies into my mother's gasp. She begins to rifle through the box, picking out gels and pills that have long since expired. Argo yelped. I jogged into the foyer to see what was wrong. Argo had hidden his thread in his hair, making it look like a bedhead that had reached a new level. My father had tried to straighten his hair, and, in the process had tried to untangle the invisible threads. The threads can't be cut and vis versa can't cut anything. To prevent using the thread as a shock absorber, we came up with a simple rule; any tension above the threshold that a thread could handle would be applied to Argo's muscles. So, when my father went and straightened Argo's hair, the threads became taunt, and the force was sent through his sore bruises and cuts. "You're overreacting kid." My dad wrapped his knuckles on Argo's head, he winced as another portion of the thread was tugged. "Dad, let him chill. The adrenaline is probably wearing off." My dad shrugs and walks over to my mom to help.

"I'm starting to regret having a power than makes me so vulnerable." "You're joking right?" "No, it really sucks having to make sure this thread doesn't get pulled." He unwrapped the thread from his hair, and created a cat's cradle in his hand, the silver wire shone softly in the amber light of the foyer. "The tension is applied to all your limbs equally, right?" Argo nodded; he knew I had an idea. "Then doesn't that mean you can do a workout anywhere, at any time?" Letting out a laugh he muttered: "I guess so, but that is a weird perk to have pointed out. I was thinking along the lines of, if the wire can't cut anything, then I could theoretically use it to block an explosion at least once, though the force would rupture through me." "Ya... Not sure if that's a good idea." "It would work though. Nezha will revive us if we die, at least according to Hannah." I tried to think of a counter argument to this but knew that Argo would be willing to endure the pain of death if he was guaranteed to live. The crazy idiot would do anything to stand for what he believes in.

The sound of clattering plastic and paper made me look up from the patterns Argo was creating with his thread. My mother had entered the foyer and was carrying a precarious tower of bandages and other first aid. She lowered herself to the ground, rolled forward slightly, and let the clutter splay across the floor. "Now help me find the ones that haven't expired yet." I took a step back as a tube of rash cream with an unsecured cap rolled its way to my feet. Argo wrapped his thread through the cuff of his jacket, embroidering the rim. I focused my eyes so that I could see the expired items, highlighting them in a soft yellow, and began to sift through them. Being able to see aspects of anything is rather helpful. I pocket a bottle of sleeping pills. These have proven useful before. Argo saw me slide the bottle away, he leaned into my ear and whispered: "Are those what you used to escape to the party last year?" "You know it. They dissolve fast in most drinks, perfect for spiking and running." Argo chuckled as I unscrewed the cap, tossing a couple pills his way. "What was that?" My mom had seen us handing over the pills. "Kendal was giving me some pain killers." Nice save. "So why did you pocket them instead of eating them." "The pain isn't so bad right now; in case it gets worse I have these." Argo said, tapping his pocket.