[center][hr][hr][h2][color=6ecff6]Something Wicked, This Way Comes (Back For More!)[/color][/h2]
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[hider=21st Century Kouros][img]https://gayside1.files.wordpress.com/2016/02/greg-nawrat.jpg[/img][/hider]
[b][u]Location:[/u][/b] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FG1NrQYXjLU]On the floor of Tokyo, or down in London town to go-go...[/url]
[b][u]Interacting With:[/u][/b] [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FG1NrQYXjLU]The record selection and the mirror's reflection[/url][/center]

Apollonian philosophy.

In Nietzschean theory, Apollo represented the apex of rational discourse. The god of light, poetry, and medicine was a standard for all reasoned men to strive for - a beautiful being defined by his logical thinking and approach to all problems with careful, measured thought. Apollonian thought was regarded as a complete opposite to the chaotic, free form, hedonistic thought of Dionysian philosophy. The two had mingled over the centuries, but only reluctantly, Nietzsche argued, and the Dionysian path was a slippery slope where rough edges and loose cannons made their home, thankfully segregated from the illuminated Apollonians.

[color=6ecff6][i]Bloooooooooow it out your aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssssss, Freddy~![/i][/color]

You had to wonder what was so dispassionately objective about a guy who had nearly gotten himself locked up in Tartarus more than once in his lifetime, or what made the guy who tricked his sister into no-scoping her [i]husbando[/i] such a beacon of rationality. Perhaps Nietzsche had no idea how Greek myth worked. Perhaps he had been hitting the sauce too hard at [i]Oktoberfest[/i] before he wrote [i]The Birth of Tragedy.[/i] 

Or maybe Apollo had just managed to shape up a little, and had chucked all his impulses and bad habits a generation or two down the genealogy bonsai into our hero - Dallas Brett Relo, a Roman Catholic by birth, a trickster god by reputation, whose shrine was any couch on the Golden Coast of California. He had been under covers so often that he was expecting a license to kill any day now. A free spirit, through and through...forrrrrrrrr about two or three months outta the year. The rest of his time was now spent at Olympus Academy, a destination he loathed the thought of so much that he was hurtling towards it at around 95 miles an hour with no seatbelt.

The journey had eaten up the better part of eighteen hours, and he had long ago stopped getting Snapchats from other demigods (many of whom did not share his true love of reckless driving) as they had each started road trips of their own. Dallas, having to drive through two and a half enormous states, spent more money on gas and more time trapped in this Red Comet of a WRX STI than most others, was having no more of it. Hence why the Snapchats he was sending out like distress calls tended to be earmarked with higher and higher measurements of speed the closer he got to Olympus.

By the time he made it, ride screeching into the Olympus Academy student parking lot, he was practically breaking at the seams with unused energy. He left the car before parking it correctly (he had taken up half of his designated parking and about a third of the space allocated to Jonas' shitty old Ford) hopping over the driver's side door without opening it and whipping out his phone. From the distance, he heard loud wailing in moonspeak [i]([color=6ecff6]too manly to be Dana...[/color])[/i] but didn't follow up on it instantly. Instead, he kept an eye out for the other familiar offenders - and, finding none, decided to make his own entertainment.

[color=6ecff6][i]To the Bratcave![/i][/color]

And with a push of his hair away from electric blue eyes, Apollo's one true dipshit and heir began whistling to himself and struck off towards the dorms, intent on making sure no one was currently scoping out his dorm.