☆ — Prometheus had always been a rebellious man; it was in his nature to fight, and even more so to refuse to back off, even when it was clear that he would not have an easy victory. Thus, sharing the most unpopular opinion in this tamed kingdom was one of his many feats, and the only to date. If you had told him as a child that he would lead a new organization into becoming an independent country from the only home their people had ever known, he'd scoff and steal away like the petty thief he'd been. Thief. His powers made such a thing so easy. A mutant, an anomaly, someone to be shunned and kept to the edges of society for fear that he would use and abuse such attributes against the people. It was luck that placed him at the king's side, and luck that let him get away from it with scarcely a fight.
Prometheus' namesake had been a hero. He'd given the people fire when they had none, taught them the essentials, gave them the courage to fight their fears and move forward. That was what he was to his people: a hero. To the rest of Griffingate, he was nothing but a fool, singing songs to the fellow fools who strummed a civil war with his bony fingers for naught but his own pride and selfless need. As he was selfless, just as he was selfish, wanting to save all of these people outside of their too-safe walls from annihilation at the hand of human kind's own rage against each other.
"Aye, perhaps I am a fool." he'd told them one day, standing tall, white button-up shirked up to his elbows as he faced the rowdy crowd. "But what does it say for you, down there, who would rather live in comfort than help save your race from the brink of extinction? Nothing good. Nothing good at all." they had belittled him for that, as they always did. Prometheus, always a source of a good chuckle if he was in the right mood.
"Frederick." his voice was even, not too sour and not too sweet. He was the perfect image of calamity, even if every part of him thrummed with renowned grievances at an old friend who now faced him from the other side of the room. Prometheus walked forward. "I don't suppose you've agreed to meet with me to say that you've changed your mind so we could mend this once and for all. You're desperate, but not that desperate." I know you, we were friends once, was what he said in the recesses of his mind, where Frederick could not reply in kind. Sometimes he wondered: was it his powers that disturbed his former friend the most, or the fact that they had different expectations for the future of Griffingate? Prometheus was a fool, a rebel, a dirty, no-good naysayer mutated to the point of exceeding the bounds of "normal". How he had ever even become to like Frederick and Frederick like him was beyond him. He figured it must be beyond Frederick, too.
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