Author: SometimesEvelyn PM
The followers of Diana and Phoebus are competing to resurrect their patron gods. One man, Kris Kristolos, becomes caught in the crossfire between the two factions.Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy - Chapters: 3 - Words: 2,013 - Reviews: 1 - Updated: 05-27-07 - Published: 05-25-07 - id: 3557121
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Kristoloid: Chapter 1: A Summoning To Start
thanks for taking the time to read this. it means a lot to me. please review? bonus points if you can name the title reference.
"It is time," spoke the chief priestess of the Dianaids. The sun danced in and out of view along the rim of the oak grove that encircled the twenty-four priestesses, clad only in floral visage. The sacred oak branch atop the altar to Diana began to smoke, and its fragrance rose high up into the dusk air. Each of the twenty-four priestesses present knelt down and breathed deeply and began to pray for Diana's speedy descent.
At the same time, in a palm oasis far far away, the chief priest of the Delians spoke the same words and initiated a similar ceremony. Both of these rituals had a similar yet polar purpose, and each was totally unaware of the other, for the Dianaids were the followers of Diana, the moon goddess, and the Delians were enamored with Phoebus, Diana's brother and god of the sun. Each faction had attempted to bring its governing spirit to Earth, and each faction was succeeding admirably. The only thing left to do, in fact, was to find a suitable host.
Now, a host couldn't just be any old person. A host had to be descended from the bloodline of Phoebus and Diana, which, after two-thousand years, was quite rare. In fact, only one suitable candidate existed in the entire world. And it was his extreme misfortune that both summoning ceremonies finished at the same time; the priests and priestesses of their associated cults shivered collectively in anticipation.
Kris Krtistolos, twenty-three, male, professional Greek distance runner, was experiencing the most tranquil sleep of his life. Usually his dreams were fraught with interruptions and paranoia, but on this summer night he was dreaming that he was on fire at the bottom of the ocean. And the effect was most relaxing. Soon a chariot, towed by a white stag, appeared and he felt compelled to entire. The stag leapt through the atmosphere in a bound, and brought him to face the moon. The moon did not speak, but he could understand it. The moon was telling him that he was the moon and that the moon was him. That made Kris happy. But then night gave way to day, and he was now facing the sun. The sun touched him with its rays, and he knew that the moon was wrong, that he was in fact one with the sun. The moon appeared again, but in the same sky as the sun. Kris was confused. He didn't know who to believe. He began to sweat. Kris didn't like this; he wanted out. He began to run away, but he became trapped in the orbit of the celestial bodies. And then he couldn't breathe, and he hurtled through space, asphyxiating, unable to stop, spinning, twisting, crashing, hurting--
-- Kris woke with a start to find he was drenched in warm sweat. He glanced at his alarm clock: 3:45. The worst. He was too tired to shower, but too awake to fall asleep immediately. He rolled onto his chest -- and gasped. A soft, delicate, and from the feel, quite sizable, presence on his upper torso prevented his complete turn. He groped around in the dark and gasped again, louder, as he discovered that his nipples were now much more sensitive. He smacked the light switch and gaped in horror as the damning light revealed his worst fears: he had breasts. Breasts which were certainly not there the night before. As he stared at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed other changes: his hair, previously a short mens cut, was now past shoulder-length in length, and was the lightest shade of blue, almost white. His cheekbones were now slightly higher set, and his shoulders were slimmer. In grim anticipation, he thrust his hand into his boxers, fearing the worst. A sigh of relief escaped him when he felt nothing but his familiar instrument. Apparently, other than the hair, the cheeks, the shoulders, and the breasts, nothing had changed. Now Kris was thoroughly confused.
"What am I? What happened"
But no answer greeted him.
There was only silence as he fainted onto his bed out of shock.
His new breasts gently rose and fell with his breathing.