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rezathevamp-blog · 8 years

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I Lava You || Reza&Zack vs. Clark&Oakley (POTW)

"Ladies, gentlemen and other creatures; welcome to the first event that these lovely contestants must pass in order to continue into the next round of eliminations. Let's give a hefty round of applause for Clark, Oakley, Reza and Zachary. For today's event, we have a hot twist on the regular cat-walk." The loud cheering made the whole experience of standing on a large, open field of crusty rocks; red hot lava visible through the many cracks, that much more surreal. Even more surreal than the fact that Reza was desperately trying to keep his balance on the red, strappy stilettos, arms crossed over his bare chest. At least he had the luxury of wearing swim trunks while Zack, standing next to him, was donning a speedo. This was more ridiculous, and dangerous, than anything Reza could have imagined out of this ridiculous contest, and he couldn't even see the other two contestants, most likely somewhere on the other side of the arena, past rocks and rivers of molten lava and they were wearing heels and fucking hell, this was horrible. "The name of the game is getting to the middle, fast as you can. While looking stunning, of course. The stakes are high so tread with care." Glancing over at Zack, Reza wiped sweat from his brow, already feeling much too warm.

Zack was more than aware of the cameras panning over his face to project the scene to a massive screen for thsoe a little further in the back, and smiled winningly, giving the public a wave as the spotlight passed over him. Though he was less than eager for the kind of media attention that would come with winning, or for the entire town to know his face, there was an undeniable charm to being where he ought to be - in the thick of it, earning his rightful place as the victor. The surreal-looking lava oozing slowly between the rocks and platforms only made sense. He'd been warned that there would be a challenge, and a challenge this was indeed, especially with those rickety stiletto heels he was still swaying on despite the practice he'd sneaked in earlier. There was a tinge to the room, the stiflling oven-like warmth and the smell of crispy things that brought back his burns like a phantom ache, the smell of his own burning hide square in his nostrils, but bravely (for now), Zack was determined to see this through. He shifted his weight and tried to cut a relaxed, appealing-looking figure for the cameras, and turned to Reza with a slightly nervous smirk - the choice of opponent was ironic, but he had little to fear from the pasty-looking teenager. "You should be smiling," he told him, and waggled an eyebrow. "Wouldn't want your boyfriend to think you were chicken, would you?" Any moment now, the signal for the race to start would be given, and Zack was already surveying the way ahead, looking for likely obstacles.

Reza glared at Zack, or as much of a glare as he could manage with his heart pounding at his ribs, just as eager for escape as he was. Taunting him about Heath right before they did... whatever it was they were doing (this still didn't make much sense) was a low blow, and the fact that there was a possibility that Heath was watching, perhaps even his father and sister as well... It didn't help in making him feel less self-conscious. Made him wonder if he could get away with running while keeping his arms wrapped around his chest. It didn't do much to cover up the scars, fresh and fading, but still. "Just worry about yourself," Reza muttered back, Miles' advice still vibrant in his mind. Compete but don't comply; don't draw attention to yourself. A loud noise echoed out of nowhere and they were moving, heels cracking against the crisp ground. Running was actually slightly easier than walking, if he just kept his weight centered and didn't think about Zack right there next to him and that a bunch of people were watching him. Just don't trip and don't die.

Heart in his throat, Zack took off after him, already swaying a little on his high heels - probably a crueller part of the challenge than the lava. Balancing with his arms, Zack struggled for a foothold as he scaled a rocky, uneven slope alongside Heath's boytoy. Something came sputtering and hissing out of the lava to his left, and he flinched, mouth tensing slightly. His chest and wrist felt painfully bare, the transformation inducer and the remote having been left with the rest of his clothes. Not that they would have been much use - he knew how badly he fared against fire, and tearing into the public around him was unlikely to get him into the good graces of the judge. (If it were, he'd have tried that right at the start.) No, falling into some of the lava pits... didn't bear thinking about, so he scrabbled at the rocks near the top to pull himself upright and focused on his competitor instead. Heath had good enough taste, he had to admit with a sideways glance at the kid's elegant frame - if just a tinge too young for comfort, but who was he to judge? Zack had to suppress a grin all of a sudden, remembering where else Heath's tastes ran, and wondering now if he could use that to his advantage. "Do you think he's watching?" he asked the youngster, letting his smirk show a little. "Which one of us do you think he's rooting for, mm?" He made as if to wait for Reza's response, then took off at a sprint towards the next section of the obstacle course.

Left foot, right foot, left foot -- shit, the heel is stuck, wait, there we go -- right foot. Breathing through his nose, ignoring the pungent smell of burning, Reza kept his eyes on his feet and the glamorous shoes, treading quickly but with care, almost running. He could feel Zack by his side, hating that it had to be him, and trying not to get distracted by glancing at the other man and growing curious about his scars. So far, so good, as long as he didn't think about the occasional spurt of hot lava and the giant river and small maze ahead. His concentration so intense, Reza almost shushed at Zack when he spoke but the question did raise a point. A point that Reza had been wondering about already on his own. "What?" Warmth filled his throat as he spoke, slowing down to watch Zack before the other man took off, a distraction and a dick move. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean..." he muttered under his breath as he hurried to catch up, steadying himself with a large rock and cursing when it scalded the skin of his hand. His calves were already starting to ache and another spurt of lava made him speed up further, screw looking graceful or whatever, desperately trying to catch up with Zack.

Zack almost tossed a lethal smirk over his shoulder but was forced to focus on his footwork, and besides, killing the other contestants was surely forbidden. Surely. He hadn't actually checked, which did seem an oversight, but... Would Heath have a problem with it, if he did? Difficult to know the mind of an angsty go-getter like Heath. Even so, Reza probably wouldn't be missed terribly much, so if he could throw him off his game a little more... and fuck, he had problems of his own, right now, in the shape of the lava river that rose up above, seemingly with no way over. Zack backed up, flinching as a scaldingly hot gust of air rose in front of him and trying to stay still, aware of what little lead he'd gained quickly dwindling. "Just wondering which one of us's his favourite, that's all," he told Reza when the teenager caught up, going for a casual tone, even as his eyes were flicking around for a way across. More than one meaning to his words - a favourite not just in the contest, but in Heath's proclivities, as well. Zack didn't stoop to thinking of himself as being on Reza's level, a bloodbag to be drained at Heath's leisure and kept manipulated and pliant, but it was difficult to deny the vampire - eretich - was uncannily good at getting what he wanted. As the faint faded marks on Zack's neck could attest, even if had been only the one time, and- there! Zack stared as a chain of stones seemed to grow out of the lava as if raised by some platform, barely more than bumps in the oozing fire. "Wait," he hissed to Reza lest the kid should get it into his head to sprint foolishly across, and turned to watch them instead. He was abruptly glad for the heels if only for the distance they put between his heel and the ground, and had to mutter under his breath - and even as he watched, the rocks disappeared into the lava again, one after the other, in the same order they'd appeared. Well, fuck. He'd liked platformers as a kid, but this was too much.

Which one was his favorite? What the hell did that even mean? Was that even a question? Reza was trying his best to lower the withering glare but it was hard when Zack was smirking like he knew something that Reza didn't. There was an obvious answer to the question, seeing as only one of them was dating Heath. Although now was not the time to think about this, stored in the form of an anxious knot in his stomach. "That's a stupid thing to wonder about," he muttered, coming to a halt a few feet away from Zack, not really trusting the guy not to shove Reza in, just because he'd been given the opportunity. The hissed command made Reza frown, arms crossing over his chest stubbornly. The stones disappeared the same way they came and his eyebrows slowly rose, eyes widening. "That's... wow. What the fuck..." Taking a few shaky steps closer to where the stones disappeared, Reza sighed. Great. He'd never been good at PE. Still, Zack's taunting was still running through his head so as soon as the first rocks appeared again, pushing off the edge and stumbling across them as they appeared, one by one. Halting on the last one, the realization that there was floating lava all around him, Reza stumbled a step, heel cracking and breaking before he jumped off onto the other side of the river, staring wide eyed at the ground. He'd actually... made it?

Zack cursed under his breath when Reza dashed ahead as soon as the outcroppings reappeared again - even as he hung back, hesitating, too busy staring into the lava and feeling those phantom burns on his skin to force himself to make a move. And just as soon, the rocks were gone again, and so was Reza, over by the other side and with a lead Zack would need to push himself to make up again. It didn't matter how dangerous at was (and it was dangerous, almost surprisingly so for a beauty pageant but then again this was Ashkent Creek), Zack needed to prove himself the champion and make it across before the pasty human - or even the other two contestants he'd barely had the opportunity to size up, and couldn't even see right now. Even if there was likely very little coming back from a plunge into lava, he needed to do this, there was no other way across. As soon as the first rocky outcropping seeped up from the flames again, Zack was making his move, wincing with pain as the scalding heat bit at his bare calves and the rock jolted his feet as he landed. Barely, he managed to keep his balance and make the dash to the next stone as it popped along, and the next, and then the next, he could do this - or so he thought, until a spurt of spitting lava had him flinching back midway into his jump, almost stumbling into the fire. No, this was- maybe there was another way. He glanced behind, just in time to see the first stepping stones already disappearing with a fiery gurgle, and panic seized him. No way back, and only a fraction of a second before the stone he was on would give way with him on it. Heart in his throat, Zack made a leap more suited for the vicious-toothed creature that was his second nature, heels skidding over the stones and lava splashing between his steps. Before he knew it, and yet as if a century later, he was clinging to the rocky, charred ground on the other side, even as the last stepping stone disappeared with a splurch. Zack winced as he stumbled back to his feet, rubbing the burns on his calves before remembering himself. His display would have hardly gained him much sympathy with the judges, and Reza- that fucker was already too far away. Adrenaline pounding at him like a sickness, Zack shook himself and went off at a loping run, swaying on his heels with every step.

There was a moment in which Reza hesitated on the other end of the river, heart pounding in his ears. Compared to every other ridiculous, life threatening situation he'd been in, this had actually seemed... easy? Sure, his legs were shaking and he felt on the verge of passing out from the heat but he was... doing this. Whether it was the thought of Heath watching or some pseudo competition with Zack taking place not only here but also in Reza's head, Reza felt more confident about this than he had in a while. Not to say that he was pleased about being here or anything but this... he could actually do this and survive. With everything else he'd survived, a beauty pageant wasn't going to fucking kill him. Sparing a glance over his shoulder at Zack, who looked angry, Reza took a few steps forwards and almost fell, cursing. Right, broken heel. Shakily, he raised the other leg, snapping off the second heel. There hadn't been any rules that said he couldn't and he was feeling confident about this so fuck it. The ground was even hotter through his feet as he began sprinting ahead of Zack, raking back his sweaty hair as he approached the tight maze walls. He had to be close to the middle.

Zack had no idea how the winner would be determined - logic dictated the one who won was the fastest one across, but who knew what counted as grounds for disqualification? When he saw Reza snap off his heels, he briefly considered doing the same, but only hobbled on, trying to catch up, wincing with pain. His joints had picked a hell of a time to start acting up, flaring in a dull ache despite the supposedly soothing heat suffusing him. Ahead of him, something like a maze was looming up, walls of dark stone with lava oozing through the cracks. If the room had felt hot before, this felt suspiciously close like being barbecued, and Zack had to double over for a moment to catch his breath.

For the first time, Reza was actually appreciative of his slender and almost gangly form, thin arms and chest making it easy for him to tread sideways through the maze-like walls, keeping away from the scalding hot walls. Sweat dripped from every surface of his skin, or so it felt as he determinedly made his way past each wall and turn, starting to feel faint, vision blurring. Lava started dripping down the walls and he winced, keeping away as best he could, which clearly wasn't enough, skin feeling like it was about to sizzle. He felt just about ready to pass out when there was a sudden opening and he burst out into the relatively cooler air, the soles of his feet so disgustingly warm but he pushed it away once he spotted the other team so close to the middle, designated with a fabulous flag. Not daring to look back in case Zack was catching up with him, Reza jogged towards the middles, already envisioning the blisters his feet were sure to have; both from the heels and the heat.

Zack burst out of the maze seconds after, panting and shuddering - but if there was one thing to be said for an arena finely coated in ash, it was the way a footprint was quite easy to follow, so much easier than the faint trail of a buck weaving through muddy leaves. He could do worse than stick on Reza's tail, as strategies went, and the idea proved fortuitous when the teenager led him straight to the exit. And a good thing, too, because Zack wasn't sure he would have been able to keep his mind working a minute longer in that scalding, stifling place. He didn't even want to think about the condition his skin was in, or the disaster it spelled for any more traditional swimsuit portion of the pageant, but first he needed to worry about winning. With a last-ditch burst of effort, Zack ambled after Reza, sprinting for the finish line among hissing steam and spitting ash and unable to quite feel his feet.

[Meanwhile, on the other side of the field...]

Oakley was excited and nervous and amped up. Being in the pageant wasn't ever something he saw himself doing, but once he saw that poster, he knew that he wanted to win. Having said that though, standing on the edge of a large, open field of uneven rocky ground...with red hot lava visible through the cracks. The name of the game was to get to the middle first- while looking fabulous since it was still a pageant after all. He felt sweat (and sap) start to bead up. He was a being made of wood who was balanced on precariously high heels...on the edge of a field of fire wearing nothing but a speedo. This was going to be a precarious situation but one he was certain he could win.

Clark would be lying if he said he wasn't a competitive guy. He was almost valedictorian in high school and that didn't just come from intellect. When he saw that poster, it triggered something in him that brought with it a sense of competitiveness unlike any other he had ever experienced. He was ready to fight. He was ready to win. The only thing he didn't count on, however, were the five inch heels that seemed to be nailed to his feet. The lava was a bit of a surprise, too. Nonetheless, he was ready to race to be the first competitor to make it to the middle. Clark looked over at his competition who was also decked out in a speedo and heels. He couldn't help but notice the body on him. The guy was kind of huge... and hot. No matter, though - looks wouldn't help him out in this game.

Oakley watched and waited before the signal was given and the race was on. He took a faltering step or two, working to find his balance in the heels. He began to sweat outright now, but he made an effort to walk fast while still making an attempt to strut it. He knew he couldn't come in last- but he also knew that sprinting wouldn't be the way to win either. He was trying to look confident, he wanted to win...but his heel caught and he stumbled a step but remained upright. He looked around and saw his competitors in the distance. They weren't moving too fast either.

Clark jumped as the signal sounded. Adrenaline pumping, he dashed forward lost in the moment and completely forgetting he was wearing heels. Narrowly avoiding a face plant into the hot rocks, he regained his balance. This wasn't so bad. He couldn't exactly run, but he found a pace that was decent considering the situation. The main trouble now was figuring out how to maneuver around floating rocks. Even from his height in the heels, Clark could feel the heat blasting from lava.

Oakley was frustrated at the pace he had to take. If this had been a straight up race, he had no doubt he would've made it to the middle already. However, between the speedo, heels and heat, he was pretty sure that he was most likely in last place. The most direct path involved stepped on a floating rock- the closer he got, the hotter it got and he was worried he would be forced to give the rocks a wide berth lest he go up in smoke. He waned to win- but a win would be worthless if he were dead. He picked up some speed, caring less about strutting it and more about getting out of the field of fire. Noting that one of the other competitors- Superman he thought- was doing the same, getting closer to him. Close enough he thought there was a chance that they might bump into each other.

Clark wiped the sweat out of his eyes. Well, it was more like he tried to. The heat was so intense that no matter what Clark did, he couldn't wipe away the salty substance. By the time he got close to the floating rock where it seemed his competition was struggling, he gave up on the whole sweat thing. He just wanted to win and he wasn't about to let biology get in the way. He half-strutted, half-stumbled around little jets of lava that shot up between the cracks and caught up to Oakley. It didn't look like he was doing so hot. Or rather, he was doing /too/ hot. Part of Clark wanted to help the guy out, but the other part of him was overwhelmed with the desire to win. Deciding to test the intentions of his competitor, Clark reached out his hand unsure of his own intentions. "Need some help?"

Oakley was still moving on but the longer he stayed out in the field to more he realized that he was in trouble. There was no avoiding the floating rocks anymore. If he had any hope of winning this thing, he couldn't avoid the floating rocks- it would take him too far out of the way. He swore after a moment he could smell wood burning- he was going to catch fire- and he almost imagined smoke when Clark approached him asking if he needed help. He hesitated, not knowing what the other man was up to- but he thought with someone by his side, he might be able to reach the middle before he turned to charcoal. "We need to get to the middle and fast. Once we get within 30 feet or so, we'll split up again..."

Clark paused for only a few moments. It was all the time he needed to decide two things. First, Oakley was being genuine. The guy looked like he needed help and unless he's the world's best actor, it looked like he meant it. Second, it would be easier for Clark as well if they teamed up even for just a bit. The floating rocks definitely would be a challenge and his feet were already in pain. "Alright," he said,"Sounds like a plan." He moved to put his arm around Oakley, intending to share each other's weight so that moving would be easier in their foot prisons. He would help him until they passed the floating rocks, but then it was back to being solo.

Oakley thought for a moment Clark was going to just ditch him. He would't have been able to blame him- they all wanted to win. He needed the help though- his feet were starting to ache and he was definitely smoking. If he were out on this field much longer, he was positive he would burst into flames- its not as if they hadn't already proven they were willing to kill. The other man agreed and he felt his body flood with relief, the younger man putting his arm around him until they were both past a certain point. He wrapped his arm around him as well and they started to limp their way across the floating lava rocks.

Clark grunted as he bore the initial wait of the other, but after a few moments he grew used to the awkward weight placement and it was actually helpful. As the two somewhat clumsily made their way along, Clark couldn't help but let out a short, breathy laugh. "You know," he began,"and excuse the pun on this one, but this would be kind of... hot if it were under normal circumstances." He snuck a peak at Oakley's impeccable figure. "Seriously dude, how do you get that fit?" For a split second, Clark considered staying with him just to flirt some more, however the feeling was short lived as the rush of competitiveness flowed back through him. Under the spell of the enchanted poster, even Clark couldn't be held back.

Oakley hissed as they first started to move, but eventually they found a rhythm and Oakley was appreciative of the man pressed in close. They stumbled once or twice, neither used to heels and the heel getting stuck in a rock. Clark laughed and he looked down with an inquisitive look. He gave him a long smile when he said to excuse the pun- but this would be hot under normal circumstances. "That it would be." He said, allowing a moment to take in the young blonde with his arm wrapped around him. He asked him how he got that fit- "Lots of heavy lifting...and swimming...and climbing trees." He answered, thinking he might slow a little to buy him more time- but then he got a rush of adrenaline, a reminder that they were competing and he wanted to win. He could see their agreed upon break off point looming and he refocused on the game. Maybe after all this was over they could pick up their flirting where they left off.

Clark managed an exhausted smile in reply. He wasn't exactly the fittest guy in The Creek and the combination of the heat, weight, and overall physical exertion was starting to get to him. He couldn't let that stop him, though. He had to pull through and win. "Climbing trees? Alright I'll take note," he replied before pulling together all his strength for one final exertion to carry him and Oakley to the break off point. Clark had a plan in place. As soon as they got there he ducked out from underneath his competitor, leaving him to make the rest of the journey on his own. "Sorry!" he shouted, already wobbling onward. "Nothing personal."

Oakley noted he had a nice smile, even if it did look exhausted as they limped across the field. The heat and the heels, really just the stress of it all was grinding them down. He could see though that they were close to their break off point. He laughed when Clark said he'd keep climbing trees in mind before they they pushed forward to get past the last of the floating rocks. Before he could blink, Clark ducked under his arm and took off, apologizing that it was nothing personal. He shook his head and reached deep before rushing toward the finish line seeing the other competitors were close as well. This was the final stretch and he had to cross the finish line. He gave up the strutting and just...ran because really he had a feeling if he finished last, it wouldn't matter how good he had looked getting there.

Clark didn't dare to look back. Admittedly, part of him did feel bad for just ditching Oakley like that, but the rest, and albeit greater, part of him just wanted to win. He had cleared the floating rocks by now and could see the flag ahead of him. That had to designate the end, or rather middle, right? His already ragged breath became like fire in his lungs as he pushed forward, determined to not let the pain or anything else stop him. Something moving in the distance past the flag caught his eye. Was that someone from the other team? It looked as if they had emerged from an opening between tall rock walls. The two sides of the race course must be different, because there were no high walls on this end. Instead, Clark realized as he looked ahead, there were hundreds of pebbles scattered across an otherwise relatively flat surface between him and the flag. This would be quite the task to take on in heels...

Somewhere further off were the other two competitors, looking blurry and distorted due to the heat rising from the ground, and Reza stumbled forward. Seconds later, he heard the click clack of heels behind him, panic rising in his throat for some reason. Not because he wanted to win but because it was Zack and he didn't want him to catch up, not after the taunting that left a bitter taste in the back of Reza's mouth -- even though that could have been the sulfur. Not even sparing a glance at the other two after noticing that they'd halted for something, most likely a new obstacle, Reza pushed through until his lungs felt dry and crusty and there it was, the fucking pole. Finally daring to stop as he approached it, Reza tentatively touched it, hissing and cursing when it burnt the tips of his fingers. Still, it seemed to do the trick as a loud bell chimed, confetti drizzling down, some of it setting on fire as it came in contact with the lava. What the fuck... Did that mean? Shit, he hoped not... Legs shaking, threatening to collapse under him, Reza wrapped his arms around his chest once again as Zack came sprinting, watching the other two with a bated breath. Maybe he'd be disqualified for breaking the heels or something... God, he hoped so.

After a momentary pause, Oakley was after Clark. It looked like they had gotten past the worst of it and they were in it to win it now. He was tiring and he could feel the heat beating down on him, making his ache (and creak but luckily no one could hear that). His legs were aching and his heart was pounding but he could see the flag...and the other contestants. He was jealous they had rock walls- he would've taken a maze over floating lava rock any day. He could see Clark- and he was standing there staring at the ground. 'Now what...' he murmured to himself. There was some distance between him and Clark but now he could see what was making him hesitate: pebbles- marbles really- between them and the flag. He smiled and started to ice skate into the pebble field, kicking the pebbles out of the way, never lifting his feet so they couldn't get under the shoes and trip him up. Maybe he could win this thing after all.

Clark didn't know what to do for a second. He faltered, right leg hovering in mid air above the pebbled ground. Was it best to tread carefully or just plow through it? He slammed his foot down, deliberately hitting some of the pebbles directly below them. They broke into pieces, the smaller ones even crumbling. Okay, so they weren't as solid as he originally thought. Clark decided the bet plan of action was not to run or tiptoe through the obstacle, but rather stomp through it. It was a little awkward at first, but Clark grew used to it and soon enough the flag was close enough that he could see its pattern vividly. He looked behind him to see where his competitor stood. He was getting closer. It was now or never that Clark pushed past his boundaries in order to get there first.

Oakley looked up when he heard stomping. Apparently the pebbles weren't all that solid after all. He realized it too late though as he watched Superman stomp his way across the finish line in first place. He picked up the pace, watching the others approaching just as fast. At the last moment though, his heel hit a crack and it stuck, causing him to stumble. He crossed the finish line last, though just barely, and he knew that there was an extremely high probability he had just gotten eliminated from the pageant.

Zack knew the moment the bell went ringing and confetti of all things went spraying down into the lava that his chance to win was gone, over with, disparu. And that should have pissed him off, it really should have, except right now he was bizarrely glad he had even made it that far, as he stumbled to a stop next to Reza (though a cautious distance away) and nearly leant against a scalding boulder for balance before he could himself. His lungs were on fire (thankfully not literally), his ankles and knees were killing him, and glancing back over his shoulder at the obstacles he had already put behind him nearly made him keel over again. Over, this was over with, and- was he supposed to touch the pole thing too? Zack winced and reached out to brush his knuckles against it, pulling his hand immediately. "Good run," he rasped in Reza's general direction, and wiped sweat off his face to look at the other two approaching.

"There's no need to mock me," Reza mumbled back, almost panting, still bitter at the comments from earlier, not wanting to even imagine whatever Zack had been implying. Because there was no way it would ever happen. Thankfully, the appearance of the other half of this event came hurtling towards them. Clark, Reza recalled, seemed to have the lead, joining them at the pole, followed by the other man who owned that cactus cat. "Well, well, well," sounded Aris' obnoxious voice, slowly clapping as he neared them, looking impeccable in spite of the heat. The three surly judges followed, holding clip boards that held the four contestants' fates. "What a smoking hot event that was, am I right?" The crowd, momentarily forgotten in all the excitement and panic, whooped and cheered and Reza almost expected more confetti to stream down. "But we cannot all be winners and in front of me stand two losers, chosen by our lovely judges. So, without further ado, let's give a big round of applause to our fastest winner, Reza, and an even bigger applause to our most charming winner, who definitely made those heels work in his benefit, Clark!"

Oakley was sweating and he was hoping that no one could smell the maple syrup that he tended to give off when he did. The host- the one who'd blown up a man- appeared, looking incredibly dapper with the miserable looking judges behind. Oakley nearly jumped at the sound of the crowd- he didn't remember that they were even there. Oakley wasn't holding his breath when he said two were winners...but he still felt his heart drop when they announced Reza and Clark the winners. "Congrats Superman." He murmured to Clark who was standing next to him. He was upset and he was embarrassed but fighting wasn't going to change anything. He only hoped whatever gift he got would have at least been worth it.

Clark didn't register that someone was speaking at first. He thought the excitement and leftover adrenaline still coursing through him just manifested themselves as a voice in his head. It wasn't until Aris entered Clark's field of view that he realized something was actually happening. He heard something about Reza winning and focused. Aris announced that Clark won. He won. Clark let loose an ecstatic laugh and threw his arms in the air. He kicked off his shoes and began dancing around the flag pole, even attempting hideously to perform some weird pole dance move he probably saw on television. It didn't matter, though. He didn't have a care in the world during that moment. When he heard Oakley congratulate him, Clark looked over. "You weren't so bad yourself," he mentioned with a flash of a wink.

The overjoyed laughing was a hilarious and ironic contrast to the sinking feeling in Reza’s stomach, the dryness in his mouth now making him nauseous. He’d have to go through another one of these hell trials? Looking over at the dejected Zack, a part of him was glad that he’d bested him while a larger part simply dreaded more of this pageant. “Guess there won’t be a problem with picking favorites, now,” he found himself muttering, at least having one thing to enjoy about this whole ordeal. Zack seemed too beat to even give him a reply, which was fine by Reza, who right now craved nothing more than a freezing shower and a lie down, preferably until this whole thing just passed by. Hopelessly, Reza found himself thinking that maybe the next part of this wouldn’t be as bad? Yeah, right. Just as long as it wouldn’t involve more heels...

#touchofchatzy #touchofpotw #p:clark #p:oakley #p:zack #potw

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