smarty0114

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

_{location: The Olympic Club
a @smarty0114 & @KZOMBI3 collab}

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As soon as Anteros moved to sit himself in the seat beside the Norse wolf, Hati relaxed into his chair. There were few people he could let his guard down around and Ant held the number one slot. A lifetime together listening patiently to the whingeing that fell from him in those late hours as they sat together admiring the moon in the comfort that only night can bring. Wrestling among the sheets as Catherine the Great reigned in the distance. Anteros grounded him in a way that was too familiar for the wolf to not latch on to. A semblance of home.

So, as he sat there beside him - pleased though Hati was - and spoke of finger sandwiches, he could tell that there was something much more there in the tone with which Ant spoke, bubbling under the surface; threatening to escape and rush forth. Being the terrible influence he is he would just have to coax the coals of action himself.

“Mmhm, yeah, finger sandwiches. Not entirely what I would have liked it to mean… but we know your wonderful grand-ma-ma isn’t one for making such a scene. Wouldn’t want to bring out the degen sides of the gods now would she?” There was a humor to his own words as he shifted his gaze upon the Erote. Hati was never one for sentimentality but here he was admiring the golden man with memories flashing before his eyes, a cunning smirk playing upon his lips.

Anteros grinned. He couldn’t help himself. Hera might disapprove of the company he kept, Ares might’ve looked down on how he spent his time on Earth, but it did not seem to matter when he was in the presence of the wolf. He wondered if the nights they’d shared all those centuries ago still played out in the theater of Hati’s mind, like they did in his own. Surely not.

“My grandmother prefers all scenes revolve around her,” he replied, looking out into the crowd. “Of course, as a loving grandson, I could not condone any actions taken that might disrupt the festivities. As a son with no desire to see his father however, well,” Anteros paused and took a sip from his glass. “I guess I wouldn’t mind if someone sent it all to shit.”

Hati nodded along in agreement, Hera is one to enjoy the spotlight, much like his own ‘King of the Gods’. He internally groaned when he had spotted the Allfather enter the club and make a beeline towards the trickster. An odd combination the two of them made. However probably no more odd than a Love god and a moon chaser. Hati couldn't, wouldn't, stop the smile that snuck through his cultivated brooding appearance. Anteros did that to him.

"A literal shitshow, huh? I'm sure I could make that happen," It would be too easy to do otherwise. Too boring as well. However, Ant's words caught up to his ears and if they were any more wild like they would have physically perked up. "Speaking of the one whom you wish not to see. Mind if I pick your brain a bit about the man?" Who better to gather info from than his closest friend? Someone who Hati had no qualms discussing his new and strange case too.

Anteros cocked an eyebrow. His relationship with Ares had never been especially loving. That wasn’t surprising, especially within his family. But Hati knew all that. He knew of the scorn Ares looked at Anteros with, and knew how much the word ‘failure’ had come to sting. If Hati was asking about his father now, long after Anteros had drunkenly shared the sorrowful lows of their relationship, it meant someone else was looking into him as well. Interesting. “Not my favorite topic of discussion, but I’ll make an exception for you,” Anteros said, reflexively looking over his shoulder, as if his father might appear at any moment.

A groan escaped the white wolf as he leaned back and rubbed his hands along his face, snagging on scruff in the process, "I know this is a lot to ask and normally I wouldn't. It's just a new client, they want all the deets on Alexander Marvos. And how could I pass up screwing over your father?" Another flash of a toothy grin to cut any tension that might have settled between them. Hati knew how much he despised the war god and yet here he was bringing him up. Disregarding feelings.

It made him feel like shit. And Hati never felt bad when it came to doing his job. But with Anteros nothing was ever what it seemed. Nothing was "how he normally did things". It was always softer, newer. More real. Hati shook those thoughts away, _{'Now is not the time,'} he chastised himself.

Ares’ mortal name summoned a scoff from his son. “Is that what he’s going by now?” Anteros shook his head, forcing a smile through the painful absurdity of his situation. “I haven’t really spoken with him in, I don’t know, twenty years? He’s been off the grid, besides the festivals. He barely even talks to Hera anymore.” Even Hati’s presence couldn’t quell the rage bubbling up inside his chest. “Best guess? He’s been too busy playing at brutality to give a shit about anyone else. Of course, that implies that he ever gave a shit at all, and I’m not sure he did.”

Anteros downed the rest of his champagne. He would not explode, not here, or even in the privacy of his apartment later tonight. He was not meant to glow, incandescent with rage. He was the perfect son, poised and perfectly put together. The boiling water inside him would stay inside.

“Honestly, that’s probably all your client needs. A millenia on Earth couldn’t make Ares care about anyone other than himself, I doubt a new name and some-” Anteros trailed off as his father arrived. He watched eyes pass over him, like he was just another face in the crowd. Of course he wasn’t enough for Ares, today or any day. “I stand corrected. He’s gotten worse.”

There was no mistaking the bitter taste that seemed to linger in Anteros’ mouth at the mere mention of his father. It was enough information as he was going to get from the male beside him. There wasn’t a need to press any further for fear of truly hurting him. It wasn't something that he enjoyed doing to him though that seemed to be all he ever brought to the table when it was the two of them. Always seeking the Erote out to help him with his issues. Even after having essentially ditched him all those years ago. Hati didn't deserve Anteros, in any capacity. Friend or lover.

Offering a content, thin lined smile Hati patted the male on the back, nodding in agreement, pulling him closer and into his side. "If it makes you feel any better," He licked his lips after taking another sip, finishing his glass and waving a server down for another, "This... client of mine seems extremely interested in him. Obsessively so. It would be such a shame if this information, of her and her intentions, were to be leaked to the rest of the gods. Perhaps causing a sense of discord among lovers," Steel eyes didn't miss the arrival of the Aztec and wondered just how much pain she could inflict on War. Her own pain would be a small price to pay if it meant that Anteros' blood would simmer and the loving passion that is Requited love would shine brightly once more.

Anteros smirked through the rage as he followed Hati’s gaze. “Y’know, you are much more clever than Odin ever gave you credit for.” Anteros was not normally one for tricks and schemes, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make exceptions. Tricks and schemes were embedded in his DNA after all. Manipulating Tlazolteotl’s emotions felt dirty, but better that it came from him than someone else. “Who is this woman anyway? Lover? Enemy?”

If Hati were in a more advantageous position he would have bowed at the compliment. It wasn’t often he was able to have his fur ruffled in all the best ways with words of affirmation. Especially from one as beautiful as Anteros. "Get this, a mortal.” Hati nodded as if it were scandalous gossip. ”Some woman named Isabelle or some such iteration. I’m assuming it’s a fling with the size of the hard-on she's got for your old man.” He graciously accepted his new drink and with a flourish downed it quickly. "Not entirely sure if she’s scorned or not. She wants information on him; everything about him actually. Family, friends, business endeavors and the like. It struck me as very strange, but there was nothing… otherworldly about her so she couldn’t be a hunter of some sort.” Hati shrugged, not exactly sure of something in his hunt got under his skin. It wasn’t like him to not know something about his prey. Regardless of if they knew their role in his life.

"Either way, information will be gathered and delivered to her sporadically,” another wolfish grin placed perfectly across his features, sharp eyes flitting between scanning the room and darting back down to the male still hugged to his side. He would burn anyone else to ensure that his closest companion wouldn’t hurt anymore. If that meant he too would pay the price, then so be it. But there was going to be some fun to be had before it was all said and done. "It’s the least I can do in order to ensure chaos follows all the right people. There are always some casualties of war, aren’t there?”

Anteros looked between Tlazolteotl and his father. Even now, he sensed the forces moving between them, the pulls of love. It was practically a fog, filling the ballroom with a rosy haze. “That there are. That there are.”

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

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Covetous Eyes
Covetous Eyes

_{location: The Olympic Club
mentions: Melinoe @KZOMBI3 |
a @horangi & smarty production}

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In a private suite tucked away in the west wing of Seattle’s most luxurious country club, Hera preened in front of a mirror. Delicate, slender fingers pulled her hair into place, and fastened it with a pin, pearly white and inlaid with diamonds. She’d arrived hours before, and had been working tirelessly on her image, while the employees below worked to arrange the luncheon she’d arranged. With Anteros joining the fray, she was putting the finishing touches on her look. Perfection could not be perfection without a little bit of work, after all.

By now, the servants employees had finished with their preparations, and the other deities had arrived, bringing with them the stench of desperation and classlessness. The only thing she enjoyed about these festivities was the opportunity to posture over the others. It was her arrangements on which immortality rested. Sure, Persephone tended the garden with her bastard hands, but it was Hera who brought them together, Hera who allowed them to eat. Or so she liked to think, at least.

Giving her reflection a once over, she decided that she was done. She smiled at herself, and strode out of her room, long legs carrying her forward with all the elegance and grace of a true queen. In her strut there was power, authority, dignity. Mortals, clad in the country club uniform, scurried out of her way, already well aware of the stories detailing Marilyn Montgomery’s infernal rage.

The stairs into the foyer provided her with an overview of the assembled deities. Piercing green eyes scanned the crowd, sizing up each and every one of her rivals. She saw Loki, the foul heathen, smiling his conman grin, and Zeus, whoring his way throughout the room. If it was up to her, they’d both be barred from the festivities, left to rot in their mortal bodies. Alas, access to the fruit was not truly in Hera’s control, loathe as she was to admit it. Zeus and Loki were painful reminders of her failings in this regard.

Artemis stood against a wall, alone, thankfully. The country club had been given a very explicit guest list, mainly to ensure that none of the Moon Witch’s savage girls made it through the doors. Surely they were watching the perimeter, but at least Artemis would have to rely on her own ears to gather information today. Anything that weakened Zeus’ bastards, was worth the fuss.

Lips curled in a practiced smile, Hera waved over a waitress as she descended the stairs, swiping a champagne flute from her tray, a fork from a nearby table, and raising both in the air. Clink clink clink went the fork against the glass, a summons of divine importance.

“So, we find ourselves here again. Another year, another festival. Oh how the time does fly,” Hera said. Her words dripped with the saccharine sweetness of a practiced politician, a woman who chose her words with care. “It is truly wonderful to see you all once again. Truly. Lunch will be served shortly, and then, a bout of my favorite game. I’m sure you all know the prize. So, go and do what you are best at. Eat, drink, and be oh, so merry.” Hera punctuated her speech with a sip of champagne, before gliding forward to play the game she truly favored. The politics of the gods.

No sooner had she stepped onto the board than her favorite player arrived, dressed to kill.

“Word on the street is you’ll be able to put away your smoke signals kit soon thanks to your second favorite grandchild, love that for you!”

Hera did not need to feign a smile for her granddaughter. She wore a rare grin as Pothos took her place beside her.

“Darling! Did you see my speech? It was a good one this year, not that anyone here can appreciate it,” Hera punctuated her boast by finishing her glass and leaving it on a passing waiter’s tray. “How is the music going? Well, I presume?”

The brightness in Hera’s smile cast away the gloom that dared to creep up in Pothos’ subconscious, daring her to turn from the beauty of her mother and give into the wrath of war that coursed through her veins, but Hera was a safe haven for her, whom had been abandoned by all but her brother. Pothos returned the smile and released a breath that relaxed her shoulders, her arm slipping away from Hera’s to give the woman a once over and then an approving nod, “I got in near the end of it, but you’ve always had a wonderful way with words. The music?” Pothos repeated her brows furrowing slightly as she pondered what a good answer would be to that.

Of course in the span of her perpetual life her music career was great, but in her current life she, as Amor, she had yet to release her Sophomore album, ” It’s going, still working on the second album, but art takes time, you can’t build an empire on a single track list, ya know?” Pothos was content with that answer but wanted to avoid further conversation about her music career, lest she be subject to disappointing someone else in her life and so she cast her eyes to the growing crowd of gods, “Seems like the crowd is still quite large, I see that some of our favorites are still kicking around..” Pothos’ gaze wandered over the crowd and landed on her brother and his peculiar companion, “Ant made it seem like you were looking for me, was it just because you missed me or did something happen?”

Hera clapped her hands together, surprise and excitement bubbling over as a gasp slipped past her lips. “Yes, yes, I almost forgot,” she said. Reaching into her clutch the Queen of the Gods produced a black, leather box. Popping the lid back, Hera revealed a pendant, a small, shining, golden apple, attached to a thin chain, and nestled against the black velvet of its box.

“Once upon a time, your mother and I went to war over an apple like this. Heroes fought and died for a fruit that they would never taste. We fought and fought and fought, and that apple remained untouched. I thought…” Hera paused, ran her thumb against the edge of the box, “well, I saw it and I thought you should have it.” Hera pushed the box towards her granddaughter, a softness that most would’ve found alien, overcoming her usual icy poise. “A reminder that it’s far more advantageous to be coveted, than to covet.”

Pothos’ eyes widened as she appraised the necklace that was thrust into her hands, she snuck a couple glances at her grandmother’s face as the reminder she shared hung in the air. Did she know? The thought popped up as she lifted the necklace by the dainty chain, her eyes glanced over the swarm of gods once more as she undid the clasp, there’s no way she knows… no she definitely knows! Pothos held up the unclasped necklace to request her grandmother’s help before turning and lifting her hair, only just realizing how silent she had been while her mind raced, “I love it!” her words came out in a rush, an octave off from her usual tone and she grimaced at the forced sound.

After a beat she cleared her throat and tried again, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting to receive something so beautiful, really, I’m grateful for this… and for everything you’ve done for me, for us.” Pothos reached a hand to touch the pendent that rested against her clavicle, “I won’t tell Ant you gave this me, he’ll get jealous.”

Hera smirked, content in believing her gifts took everyone’s breath away. She placed her hand softly against Pothos’ shoulder, protective and firm all at once. “You always did know how to keep a secret,” the matriarch said, eyes flitting out to scan the enemies that walked amongst them. “Do me a favor, and keep an ear open today. You can never be too paranoid, especially at a festival.”

Pothos simply nodded at Hera’s words, though her thoughts lingered on trying to pick apart her tone, “Speaking of paranoid, have you talked to your likable son recently?” Pothos started and leaned forward against the stone ledge to search for the face of her uncle, “He stopped by the studio when I was on my way out the other day, he didn’t seem… well, like not sick but something was definitely bothering him.” Pothos turned again, away from the party and to cross her arms over her chest as she rose a curious brow, “Also, guess he’s not in on the family drama, he thought I would have information on Ares-pfft, yeah, barking up the wrong tree with that one.”

It took Hera a moment to place exactly which child her grandchild was referring to. “He did stop by the office last week,” Hera said, looking off into the distance as she recalled her most recent meeting with Hephaestus. “I thought he was there to discuss his campaign, but he was asking about the family as well. Something about Athena, maybe?” Hera waved her comment off; she’d never given much thought to Hephaestus, despite her oh so maternal nature. “I wouldn’t give it much thought. He’s sentimental, in his own ways.”

Pothos pursed her lips while taking in her Grandmother’s expression, for a moment she opened her mouth ready to pose her next question, but held back and pulled her lips into a smile as she straightened from her position.

“As much as I adore all the time I spend with you, duty calls. I’ve got to make my rounds as the Super Star around here, and you’ve got to be the Hostess with the Mostest.” Pothos grinned, eyes twinkling with mischief as she touched the Golden Apple again, “Or rather, I need to put myself in a better position to be coveted.”

Hera smiled, genuine and full of pride; she might have made plenty of mistakes, but her grandchildren were not among them. “That’s my girl.”

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

_{location: The Olympic Club
mood: wallowy
interactions: Hera | Hati @KZOMBI3 | Pothos @Horangi}

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A cloud of grey, acrid smoke spooled out from the soft lips of the second Erote, the loneliest of them all. Anteros had quit smoking forty years ago, and yet, his habit returned for one day every year. He adored many things in this world: his grandmother, champagne, and the pleasant little stories mortals acted out before his eyes. He did not, however, adore the egos in the room below him.

This would be a day of sharp words, and the truth was, Anteros was tired. As he leaned over the second floor balcony, his shoulders sagged, heavy with what seemed to be the weight of the world. It was easy, in these times of gathered gods, to recognize his own loneliness. Loneliness, he supposed, was his curse. He was, after all, little more than a child’s teddy bear, only with thoughts and feelings and hopes and dreams.

“Anteros!” his grandmother’s scolding straightened his back, a smoking stick frozen on its journey back to his mouth. “You know my thoughts on smoking,” Hera said as she stepped onto the balcony.

Anteros smirked as he turned around to face her. “Always offer one to the hostess?” he said, fishing out a fresh cigarette and a light from his jacket pocket. She was much too regal to carry her own, it seemed.

The pair took simultaneous drags, and sat quietly for a moment as their smoke mingled together in the air above them. Hera broke it first.

“No sign of your father?” The question hung around for a moment, like the smoke that would no doubt hang off his suit.

Anteros sighed, diverting his attention to the sky and its myriad of blues and greys. “Not yet. Don’t know if he’ll have much to say anyways.” If this bothered the seemingly young man, it did not show. He had inherited his mother’s poker face.

“My son is many things, but a great speaker? Unfortunately, that has never been his strong suit. It is hereditary, I suppose.” Hera and Anteros shared a smile. “He never had my taste though, and we both know that, unlike your mother, I’ve never supported a losing side.”

Hera’s words eased the burden of his existence, at least for a moment. He understood all too well how the other Olympians felt about their queen, but to him, she had always been this way. Strong, scary even, but supportive, even at the worst of times. At this point, she felt more like family than his parents did.

“I should go make my appearance. Wouldn’t want the children left unsupervised,” Anteros said, crushing the butt of his cigarette against the stone railing he leaned against.

“If you see your sister, tell her I’d like to speak with her as well,” Hera said, waving lazily as Anteros stepped inside. He nodded, before shutting the balcony door, and stepping out of Hera’s private suite. He swapped his cigarettes for a phone. Once he had been a squire for his brother, then his mother, and now, his grandmother. Anteros was ever the dutiful servant.

To: Pot Head
Are you here yet? Grandma wants you and she still hates using a phone

Down the stairs, the growing chatter of the Festival grew louder, and it wasn’t long before his legs had carried him into the crowd, swimming amidst faces, some of which he hadn’t seen since the last gathering. Love both faint and intoxicating swirled around him, disorienting him for a moment. The feelings of gods and the mortals who served them were waves threatening to drag him under, but he had long ago perfected his backstroke. Breathing deeply, he maneuvered his way through the divine bodies. With no sign of his sister yet, he was looking for one deity in particular.

He found him watching, like he always was. Hati was observant, and he should be; he made a living off of it. Anteros sidled up to him, that man who seemed to watch everyone but him. He wore a smirk, despite the feelings inside him that threatened to go to war over the slightest provocation. “So, are you as excited for finger sandwiches as I am?”

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

As The Sun Rises, The Moon Sets.

_{| Location: Apollo’s Studio -> The Festival |}

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“Goooooooooooood morning Seattle, Alex here, Riseing and Whineing, as always. Wonderful, beautiful, people can you guess what I’m here to whine about today? If you guessed, luncheons that start at ten am, then you, my friend, are a winner. I mean, let’s all say be real, that’s a brunch. Anytime before eleven is when you eat cereal, and omlettes, and perhaps, a well made breakfast sandwich, but a ham and cheese at ten in the morning? Now that, good souls, is absurd. Nevertheless, until I get dragged off to eat teeny tiny little sandwiches, I’ll be keeping you all listening to some, dare I say, groovy tunes.”

Apollo’s voice poured out of radios to eager listeners all across the city, but in his studio, only Artemis was listening. She scowled at the sound of him playing the fool. She’d long ago become immune to the charms of his oh so musical voice. When he had finally finished, and stepped out into the room, she’d finished four of the sleaziest magazines she’d ever read, in an effort to empty her mind before the approaching festival.

“Why do you insist on doing all this…nonsense?” Artemis asked, gesturing around the room.

“Same reason you insist on collecting girls like Hera collects enemies,” Apollo said, striding gracefully over to a minifridge, and pulling out a bottle of sparkling water. “It’s fun.” he said, unscrewing the cap and taking a gulp.

Artemis scoffed and began walking towards the exit, unamused. Her arms were crossed in front of her, lest Apollo forget her mood. “You’d think two millenia would’ve been enough time for you to grow up. When are you going to realize there’s more important things than fun?”

“When the sun rises in the west, and sets in the east.” Apollo checked his reflection a final time, more so just to admire himself, before following after his sister. “Certainly couldn’t hurt you to have a little fun though. Y’know how I have so many friends?” A silence filled the air as they stepped out into the cold. “Comeon, ask me!”

Artemis sighed. “Let me guess. Idiots attract?”

Apollo laughed. “Close. It’s my winning smile.” Apollo grinned then, to prove his point, as Artemis rolled her eyes and ducked into the limousine that was waiting to drive them out of the city. Inside, a young woman, hardly older than the co-eds that often populated his and Hercules’ parties, waited in the driver's seat. Apollo flashed said smile in the rearview mirror, summoning a stern look from his sister.

“What did I say about the girls?” Artemis’ cold voice cut through the melody of his laugh.

“Look, but don’t touch?”

“I seem to recall the words I used were, ‘Don’t even think about it.’” Artemis signaled for the driver to begin the journey out to The Meridian, the country club that Hera had secured for this year’s Festival.

Apollo, ever the optimist, kept smiling. “Well, I wouldn’t, if you stopped bringing the pretty ones around.” Artemis shook her head, unsurprised. This was how it always was with them, the sun and the moon. Their bickering sustained them as the limousine wound its way towards the edge of the city, the driver silent in the presence of these two fallen gods.

They arrived with their usual splendor. That is to say, Artemis stepped out, looking the part she meant to play. She would never be accused of being underdressed. Apollo, on the other hand, was another matter. As long as Hera had been arranging these get togethers, he’d been ignoring the dress code. He was more than happy to mar her aesthetic with an old jacket, jeans, and a pair of flip flops, like he meant to flip the Queen of the Gods the bird with his feet. Truly, it wasn’t that far out of the question.

They approached the entrance together. Artemis wore her trademark face of stone, harder than any statue any mortal had carved in her likeness, and Apollo wore his shining smile. Turning heads was never Artemis’ goal, but Apollo didn’t bawk at the attention. He beamed at more than one server, blessing them with just a moment of his gaze.

“I take it you’ll be able to find a ride home?” Artemis asked, scanning the assembled gods for the face of one particular Aesir.

“What, you don’t want to debrief afterwards? Rude.” Apollo was too busy looking for his own mark, but the assembled eyes were too plain. The ones he sought sparkled with madness, but none as exciting as those were waiting here. Yet.

“Your company is exhausting. Are you surprised?”

“Can’t say that I am. The women I meet do seem to sleep well.”

Artemis responded with one last indignant snort and shook her head as she strode into the crowd, leaving Apollo to his own devices. He shrugged, alone at last, and set out for one of the passing waiters. If he was going to enjoy this, he’d need champagne. Or a good lay. Possibly both.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Anteros, god of lovers

g o d o f l o v e r s
_{A N T E R O S 
A N T E R O S}

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx	harris dickinson | #facade ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Erote ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ requited love and lovers ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{i am your sweetheart psychopathic crush, drink up your movements, still i can't get enough}}

████████████

 L O V E ' S T O U C H
L O V E ' S T O U C H

^{What was once a piece of a larger group of powers that could bring Greece to its knees, is now just a sliver of divinity. Anteros once reigned over those sweethearts so happily in love, second only to his mother in that domain. Today, he is still tapped into the power we call love, though his grasp on it is tenuous at best. Once though, he could send mortals swooning after one another, proclaiming their eternal love, and it would be real. Now, he has only the most minor of influences over the minds of mortals and gods. He has no power to place love where it has never been, but where there is a mutual love, he can sense it and nudge the participants together.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{I overthink your punctuation use, not my fault, just a thing that my mind do}}

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Jacek Philon ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty one ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ pansexual, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ College Student

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{our thing progresses, i call and you come through, blow all my friendships, to sit in hell with you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Before Pothos, there was Eros, the winged god of love found through lust. Atop Olympus though, Eros was one of few children, and so, as gods are wont to do, Ares and Aphrodite conceived a playmate for Eros, a brother. For love must not be alone, to flourish. So it was that Anteros sprang into being, a boy with a pleasing disposition and the wings of a butterfly. He was born to keep Eros company, to keep him happy, and so he did. The brothers spent those years as a duo. Eros, with his bow, drove the humans into the throes of passion, and Anteros decided which pairings were meant to be, tying people together with his own arrows. He grew fond of his position, content to follow Eros, so long as none interfered in his pairings. Of course, interference was inevitable. Soon, two became three, and with the birth of Pothos, Anteros became part of the Erotes. Pothos and her lead arrows brought complications, wrenches thrown into the delicate gears of the relationships he so loved to cultivate. He took to stealing away from his siblings, hiding those couples he valued most from their prying eyes. He found Apollo and Hyacinthus on one of these days, and watched as their love turned to ashes pressed against the sun god's chest. He watched as Theseus deposited Ariadne on a desert island, scorning the love that Anteros had so carefully cultivated. He saw Patroclus fall, and Achilles driven into madness by fate. In these stories and many others, he learned something. It was not Pothos who brought pain to relationships. Her meddling was not required most times. To love was to lose, to hurt. This revelation brought him to his knees, forced him into mourning. For what was he if not a bringer of pain? Was he any different than Phobos and Deimos, the twins of terror? Perhaps it was his siblings who were merciful, for all he did was ensure the pain of a broken heart. If he was intent on finding an answer to this eternal problem, it was of no use. As Anteros struggled with his place, the World Tree was shriveling, dying, poisoned at the root. With a terrible roar, Olympus fell from the sky, and Anteros fell with it. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ Mortaldom was, surprisingly, the perfect antidote to his melancholy. Anteros became known amongst the fallen gods for his fast and fleeting romances. He was prone to falling headfirst into passionate, whirlwind romances that left him reeling. He entered a cycle, finding a new lover, exhausting them, wallowing in the pain of the breakup, celebrating his new freedom to love and be loved, and starting the whole thing over again. Throughout the years on Earth, Anteros was never one to stray from his family. His earlier gripes had been washed away by their new situation, and without the weight of their responsibilities, Anteros found his siblings more tolerable than he had in the days of Olympus. Modernity ushered the world into ever changing eras, and as wandering became less viable, Anteros surrounded himself with mortal youths. He enrolled in college, too many times to count, less for the education and moreso to be around the myriad of young adults searching for love between classes. As his own human dalliances bored him more and more, he once again took pleasure in pushing people together and playing matchmaker. No longer was he forced to watch people fall apart. He could watch the good part, and pretend it all worked out like the fairy tales. In Seattle, Anteros has found himself at school once more, enjoying his endless days. Mortal life has only grown infinitely more interesting to him in the centuries since the Fall, and he is not likely to give it up anytime soon. He's come to enjoy the quirks of this life, and the ease with which he moves through it. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Anteros is driven by two things: his own whims, and those of his family. He does what he wants, most of the time, and what he wants is hardly of importance to the likes of Zeus and Ra. However, when his mother or siblings come calling, he is a loyal servant, born to follow them wherever they might lead him. He wants what they want, even if it kills him sometimes. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ Love, hate, sadness and pain. These are emotions that Anteros knows well. Fear though, is unfamiliar to him. He felt it first, as Olympus fell. Later, he felt the gnawings of it at his stomach, when Eros skipped a Conclave. The centuries have given him time to mull on that which makes him afraid, and he's concluded that it is the idea of losing his family. Not necessarily because of the pain (though he imagines there would be quite a bit of that) but because he is unsure who he is without them. He is an Erote, even as a mortal. All his running from them would never change the fact that he was born to keep Eros company. Without the others, he is nothing.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Hera, goddess of marriage

g o d d e s s o f m a r r i a g e
_{H E R A 
H E R A}

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	cate blanchett | #7845b8 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Queen of the Gods ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ marriage, women, and childbirth ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl}}

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 U L T R A S O U N D
U L T R A S O U N D

^{As the goddess of childbirth, Hera oversaw the birth of most children, mortal and divine. In her mortal form, Hera is still very much a fertility goddess, able to sense the pregnancies of nearby mortals and gods alike. She has no control over the fate of the child, but she is something better than an ultrasound. Her gift allows her to determine sex, parentage, even health.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Empathetic & Shrewd Resourceful & Resolute Inimitable & Maternal⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Envious & Vindictive Judgemental & Selfish Callous & Shortsighted ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Marilyn Montgomery ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ forty three ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ heterosexual, female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Divorce attorney

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{And I never got past what you put me through, but it's wonderful to see that it never phased you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Hera's life before the fall is a famously tragic tale. Swallowed by her father only moments after birth, she grew up in darkness, with the earliest of Olympians. She remembers little about that time, save the blinding light that came to save them from imprisonment. That, she will never forget, not even when her skin and bones have crumbled into ashes and rejoined the silt of creation. When Zeus freed his siblings from his father's stomach, he enlisted them in his war against the Titans. He took Hera as his queen, a marriage before a war. By his side, Hera slew countless foes. The war raged on, the land torn asunder, and still she fought. She fought for her new husband, and the children he would grant her. She fought for the splendor he would lay at her feet and the throne that he had promised her. Hera's prowess in battle was oft forgotten by the likes of Homer, but it was prevalent nonetheless. She was an Olympian, after all. When the Titans lay broken at the feet of their usurpers, Hera rejoiced with the others, and cradled the empty womb, sure to bear the Prince of Olympus. Only, Hera's child was not the first to be born. Zeus sired three children, one with Metis, two with Leto, before deigning to lay with the woman he'd married. This was only the first of many slights. Hera was forced to watch as Zeus paraded his dalliances across Olympus. She became known for her rage, and Zeus? He became known for his power. It sickened her. Watching him reap the benefits of her work. It was she who tended the divine court, she who wore the crown of a queen. Yet, her son received scorn, while Zeus' bastards were lauded with accolades and power. Wise Athena, Golden Apollo, Shining Artemis. The ever present thorns in her side. Of course, it was not enough for Zeus to simply humiliate her. She could live with humiliation, if it meant that Ares would one day get the position he was owed. When she heard of Zagreus, the unnatural spawn of Life and Death, she was appalled. Zeus had promised the boy a marriage, and a throne, a throne that was her son's by right. This would not stand. She met with Leto, away from the watchful eyes of her brethren, and together, they hatched a plan. United by their hatred of this usurper, the two women led him on a wild goose chase, into the maw of Tartarus. Her only regret was that she needed Leto's help to make it happen. She had plans for Olympus, for Zeus. With Zagreus gone, only Athena and Apollo seemed to present worthy threats to her son's inheritance. Artemis was unconcerned with the power plays of her family, but Athena would claim it, simply to vex Ares, and Apollo was a glutton for spectacle. He would not easily turn his head at a crown. No matter. These two were simply obstacles to be removed. And they might have been, had the world not suddenly crashed in all around her, crushing any hopes she had of redemption. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ What does a queen do without her throne, her crown, or her subjects? Hera had never been forced to ask the question before, but in the wake of Apocalypse, she found herself desperate for an answer. Strong as she was, she had never been...alone. Not once. If she was not accompanied by one of the Olympians, then her handmaids trailed behind her and served at her beck and call. Now, cut off from her power, she had nothing, nothing except her family. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was old habits, but she tried and failed to make Zeus an honest man. Mortaldom had not changed him much, it seemed. Failing with her husband, Hera turned to her children, rotating amongst Ares, Hephaestus, Eileithia, and Hebe. Some enjoyed her more than others, though none could say that Hera had nothing to offer. Overbearing as she was, her mortal life gave her more time to devote to their wellbeing, and their ambitions only benefitted from her continued attention. Far from Olympus, she still fancied herself a kingmaker. The occasional desire for independence surfaced sometime in their third century on Earth, a nagging whisper in her head. She followed it, out into the world, and found that being alone was not quite so frightening as it had been. She did not need Zeus, or her crown, to prove her worth. The mortals saw it, painted across every inch of her. She was regality incarnate, and where she walked, they practically begged to serve her. When Hera wasn't advising one of her children, or meddling in their lives, she found herself hosted in the courts of kings, an enigmatic woman of mysterious origins, paying her way with secrets and whispers. She went on like this for centuries it seemed, the picture of the middle class divorcee, centuries before it would be so in vogue. Loathe as she is to admit it, Artemis was the inspiration for the next phase of her mortal life. Her affinity with the savage girls she collected gave the queen an idea. The mortals clearly needed saving, uplifting, and Artemis certainly wasn't doing them any favors. So it was, as the world prepared for a second war Helena Albrecht arrived on the streets of London, a matronly but stern governess, and the headmistress of Albrecht School For Girls. It was a surprisingly apt role for the former queen, and she grew to think of the girls left in her care as her own children. She did not teach them archery or espionage like Artemis. Rather, she taught them etiquette, literature and poetry, with a healthy dose of statecraft, for every woman must know how to rule, even if her kingdom is just four walls. Then the bombs came. In an instant, the Fall returned for her, and her world was torn asunder. She choked on fire and ash, awash in chaos. When she awoke, she was alone, in the ruins of her school. Her children were gone, and with them, her good will. Hera had been scorned for the last time. She grew colder, if that was even possible. Her walls became bulwarks, and whatever glimmer of mercy that shone inside died with the girls of the Albrecht School. Hera sharpened her edges in America, as a businesswoman, as a small town politician, even as a crime boss. Seattle has witnessed this queen reborn in the form of Marilyn Montgomery, suave and sophisticated socialite, stunningly effective divorce attorney, and ruthless social climber. Rumor has it that Marilyn has eyes on the mayor's seat, but the truth is, Hera has much bigger plans in mind. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Hera wants power, plain and simple. She strives for the respect she's entitled to, not just for herself, but for her children as well. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ The death of all her children.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Apollo, god of music and oracles

g o d o f m u s i c
_{A P O L L O 
A P O L L O}

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	brenton thwaites | #eed873 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ The Bright One ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ oracles, the sun, music, healing and poetry ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{so many tears I've cried, so much pain inside}}

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 P R O P H E C Y
P R O P H E C Y

^{Many people, including Apollo himself, have forgotten his role as the patron of oracles. The universe, it seems, did not. Apollo's songs, enchanting as they are, are ever so often tinged with words of prophetic wisdom. He knows precious little about what the future holds, only that sometimes, his lyrics light the way.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{but baby, it ain't over till it's over}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Optimistic & Creative Passionate & Empathetic Loyal & Brave⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Hedonistic & Impulsive Vengeful & Manipulative Juvenile & Vain ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Alexander Calimeris ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty four ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ bicon, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Host of popular radio show, Rise and Whine.

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{so many years we've tried to keep our love alive}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Zeus had never been known for his fidelity, of that, everyone can agree. Leto was just another woman in a long line of affairs, hardly even the first to get pregnant. Nevertheless, Hera came at her with all the rage she usually mustered, and sent the serpent Python slithering after the pregnant Leto. Tired and alone, with the serpent closing in, Leto found refuge on Delos, the ever moving island. Unbound, Delos floated across the many seas, keeping Leto safe from Python. It was on Delos where the twins were born, first Artemis, and then her brother, golden Apollo. Suckling on nectar and nibbling on ambrosia, Apollo grew faster than any mortal. He was fully grown within days, and hungry for vengeance on the beast that had hunted his mother. A babe in man's clothes, he slung his bow across his back and set off to slay a monster. He found the serpent at Delphi, guarding the resting place of his mother, Gaia. Their battle raged for three days, and three nights, but as the sun rose on the fourth morning, Apollo loosed his final arrow, and the great Python fell to the ground, dead. Apollo took Delphi as his sacred site after the battle, and in the years to come, he'd be known as the patron of Oracles. As a young Olympian, Apollo flaunted his divinity every chance he got, leading him into a myriad of troubling situations. Everyone knows the story of him, Daphne, and Eros' accursed arrows. For a long time, Apollo was a sort of proof that gods were just as unchanging as the mortals they lorded over. That is, until Hyacinth. Brash and braggadocios, Apollo was known for falling fast, and leaving faster. What drew him so closely to Hyacinth, none can say for certain. Perhaps it was his beauty, supposedly unmatched, or perhaps it was the fact that Hyacinth chose Apollo over all his other suitors? Whatever the reason, their love, like everything Apollo was apart of, was bright and splendid. Of course, like anything involving a mortal, it was also fleeting. Hyacinth's choice had angered Boreas, the North Wind, and he was not known for his forgiveness. One day, while Apollo and Hyacinth were throwing a discus, Boreas swooped down, and sent the disc crashing into Hyacinth's skull. He was dead before he hit the ground. Apollo held him until the sun went down, and on the earth, where divine tears and mortal blood mingled, a flower grew. Apollo named the flower for his dead lover, and buried him at the foot of his temple. Then he swore his revenge. Zeus had forbade him from taking revenge on the winds, but he had said nothing about the other Titans, those who'd sided with the gods and been allowed to keep their domains in return for their loyalty. Boreas' uncle, the titan Helios, held the sun, and his aunt Selene, the moon. With his sister at his side, Apollo challenged Helios to an archery contest, demanding that he answer for his nephew's crime. Artemis demanded the same challenge of Selene. The stakes? The coveted chariots of the Sun and Moon, one a shining star of gold, the other a shimmering silver. The titans lost that day, and with their chariots went any hope of a return. The Olympians had taken what remained of their regality, and they had nothing left but immortality. Gilded as he already was, the sun was little more than a trinket for Apollo. The awesome responsibility of the chariot was often lost on him, a child in the body of a man, who would rather pluck at a lyre than do any real work. Apollo, more than anything, loved to be worshipped. The sun was ultimately, just another source of mortal prayers to feed his immortal ego. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ The lead up to The Fall is still a dark spot in the sun god's memories. A fuzzy period, within which he can find no solid ground. Those early days though, after The Fall? He remembers those well. The chaos the gods found themselves in, the despair they all shared. Apollo had despised his mortality, had raged against these new chains. In the months following his new status, he drowned himself in the physical pleasures of the earth, base as they may be. No mortal music sounded quite the same as the melodies that he had commanded on Olympus, and no mortal lips were as sweet as those of Hyacinth. It was Artemis who pulled him from melancholy, with news of the Tree. Not the World Tree, that had upheld their mighty realms, but a sapling, one that might maintain their immortality, preserve their godhood until the day it might be saved. So it was, that Apollo found himself at the first Conclave, eating the fruit of this new Tree. As months became years, and years decades, Apollo began to adapt to his new situation. He was petulant, certainly, but there is only so long that one can be resist the workings of fate. He knew this better than most. Mortals were entertaining, at the very least, and with the passage of time halted by his yearly ambrosia, he had eternity to spend amongst them. He traveled far and wide, to Babylon and Constantinople. He watched as empires rose and fell, as mortals discovered new ways to inspire him. Legends circulated of a man, a wanderer who brought only instruments and revelry. Some whispered that if you pleased him, he might even leave a prophecy behind, as a thank you. He misses those days, when stories were just stories, and he and the others had the freedom to exist as they pleased. Of course, the mortals had to go and muck that up too. Apollo might've given them music and culture, but Hephaestus had given them industry and innovation. With that spark, they created even more weapons to defend their great works, and they destroyed any who threatened them. By the time the gods and their tree finally left Europe, he was glad to be free of the continent; the taste of the air had soured there. In America, Apollo found a new home. He'd been before, to sample the liquor of Prohibition, but the country waiting for him two decades later was much different. He was particularly partial to the 60's, when free love reigned and a party was never hard to find. Recent years saw him following the Tree, still beholden to it for his immortality, and immortality he has no intention of ever losing. Mortaldom might be a punishment, but it is nothing compared to the darkness of death that plagues his dreams. In Seattle, Apollo has become Alexander Calimeris, a minor local celebrity thanks to his radio show, Rise and Whine, where, in between carefully curated song selection, Apollo complains about a new thing everyday. In truth, Apollo isn't doing anything differently. He's partying, and inspiring mortals, all with his usual casual attitude. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Apollo gave up on goals a long time ago. He's enjoying immortality as much as he can, uninterested in the greater machinations of his family. He will fight for them if the time comes, but it's been a long time away from Olympus, and any threats have yet to show themselves. He's beginning to think they never will. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ Death. The permanent one. He knows what awaits gods when they die, or at least, he knows it's not Elysium.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Artemis, goddess of the hunt

g o d e s s o f t h e h u n t
_{A R T E M I S 
A R T E M I S}

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	hunter schaefer | #5e74ee ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Lady of the Hunt Mistress of the Wood Diana ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ the hunt, wilderness, the moon, chastity ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{easy they come, easy they go, i jump from the train, i ride off alone}}

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 T H E C A L L O F T H E W I L D
T H E C A L L O F T H E W I L D

^{There was a time when Artemis was a storm of divine power. The trees bowed for her, the animals of the forest loved her kind hands and feared her swift arrows, and she had mastered the moon and all its silver light. Once upon a time, she was a terror to those who'd scorned her, but now, Artemis is little more than a dog whisperer. While she retained a stunning control over wild animals, the rest of her divine gifts seem to have faded.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{i never grew up, it's getting so old, help me hold onto you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Diligent & Reliable Honorable & Brave Wise & Responsible⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Vengeful & Petty Hypocritical & Manipulative Arrogant & Cruel ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Selena O'Ryan ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty four ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ lesbian (except for that one time), female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Owner and operator of Moon River Retreat

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{i've been the archer, i've been the prey. who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Perhaps Artemis' nature is not surprising, given the nature of her beginning. Conceived out of a tryst between Zeus and Leto, Artemis and her brother were forced to face Hera's wrath while still in the womb. No place was safe for her mother, not with Hera's serpent following her every move. When Leto finally found refuge on Delos, the twins were nearly there. Artemis came into the world, stoic from the moment she opened her eyes. Her infancy was short lived, as moments later, she helped deliver her brother. While her brother sought immediate vengeance on Hera's beast, Artemis, always the more calculated of the twins, was far more willing to bide her time. While her brother gallivanted across the earth, inspiring mortals and finding pleasure wherever a lyre was plucked, Artemis spent her time traipsing through the forest, hunting the creatures of the earth and exploring the unknown wilds. She did share her brother's interest in mortals though, at least certain ones. Artemis was known to collect young maidens like they were coins, often saving them from the terrors of the forest. Always young, always virginal, always beautiful. These were the benefits of being a Huntress. Some think Artemis' vow of chastity is as old as time itself, entwine with her essence. While it's true that she took chastity as a sign of devotion in her Huntresses, Artemis did not take her own vow until later. Not until Orion. He had been a demigod, a child of Poseidon and a princess of Crete. Their meeting was fortuitous, and Artemis, whose eyes were rarely drawn to anything other than adventure, found herself enthralled by the young hunter. She began to spend her days with him, the first man to hold her bow, and those days turned into weeks, and then months. At night, they lay beneath the moon and watched the stars. It was perfect... until it wasn't. Mortals don't live forever, she knew that, but she had not expected him to be taken so suddenly. The scorpion moved faster, even faster than her, and she'd turned her back to him, and... when she turned to face him again, he was dead. She asked her father to bury him amongst the stars, and swore off love and anything that might lead to it. Artemis was always colder than her brother, more prone to offense, but after Orion she seemed to grow even closer to the wilds that she loved so much. Her vengeance became legendary in the wake of her grief. The likes of Actaeon and Niobe learned that the hard way. Artemis' wrath was terrifying, and lasting. When Apollo came to her, fuming over Hyacinth's death and seeking revenge on Boreas' blood, she was all too happy to help. She'd always thought it silly to entrust Titans with the Sun and Moon. The only trustworthy one was her mother. She took the responsibility of her chariot much more seriously than her brother. In part, she enjoyed the solitude, and the respect the mortals heaped upon her as she drew the silver light across the sky. Truly though, what she loved the most, was the proximity to Orion. Every night, she got to visit his resting place, where he watched over her with shining, bright eyes. She would've traded anything, to stay there amongst the stars with him. Alas, the Fates had other plans. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ At first, there was darkness. Never ending shadows, impenetrable, unescapable. Soon though, the darkness faded, and dreams swept her away. Orion was there, guiding her through the labyrinth of her mind, until, with a crash, he was taken away again. As she and the other gods began to stir, the dream faded away, and when she awoke, she was not alone. Perhaps it was a good thing that Artemis was one of the last to awake. Had she had it her way, there would've been a massacre, but cooler heads prevailed. She stuck around long enough to learn that nobody knew anything truly useful, before slipping off to explore this new world. When she wasn't checking in on the immortal leech that was her brother, she was hunting in the woods. She never lost her love of followers, and wherever she tread, young women seemed to trail close behind. Some were girls she'd rescued from danger, others had simply heard tales of a band of women traveling through the wilderness, and sought to join. Artemis offered them a rare form of adventure, not easily found for girls of the town. All she asked for in return, was devotion. In the early years, she did not hide what she was from them. She saw no reason to. But mortals were cruel, and soon, word of her travels reached the wrong ears. After centuries on Earth, many of Artemis' memories have blended together or faded completely, but she never forgot the night the Christians came. The sound of hooves beating the ground raw woke her, and she opened her tent to see them bearing down on her camp, bringing fire and steel. Her and her girls fought back, valiantly. She called on the forest for aid, but she was not the goddess she once was. So she was forced to watch as men ripped her life to shreds. They killed her, and left her for dead, and while her consciousness swam in a formless haze, she plotted. Revenge, not on the men who'd wronged her, for they were numerous and masked. She'd have to settle for those they protected, those they fought for. When she rose again, she set out on her bloody path. In between Festivals, she tore swathes across the countrysides, a pale spirit of vengeance haunting from the shadows, all those mortals who turned to that false god. She was not such a great warrior that she was free from defeat. But each time they cut her down, she rose, made stronger by rage. A boogeyman to haunt the Dark Ages. The years fell away however, and Artemis' crusade did little in the grand scheme of things. She watched as the monuments to her family were torn down, as the remnants of her people were scattered to the winds, or forced under the yoke of the Nazarene. Few know why Artemis ceased her bloody vengeance. She has always kept her pain close to her. Apollo though, and a handful of other Olympians, know that it was love that stayed the Moon's blade, just as it had set it into motion. Her name was Esther, and she was everything. Courageous, compassionate, willful. When Artemis came for her village, it was Esther who stayed the moon goddess' hand, froze the notched arrow. In Esther, Artemis was reminded of the virtues that mortals possessed, and so she agreed to spare the town, so long as Esther traveled with her. Initially, Esther resented the arrangement, but this only made her more unique in Artemis' eyes. In the woods, they grew close. Esther was wise, and Artemis enjoyed that wisdom. She had grown so tired of nights without conversation, nights without love. Esther unearthed a kindness in her that Artemis had thought lost amidst the stars. Under the light of the moon, a bond grew, deeper than the one she'd shared with Orion, or anyone before. In the end, it was Artemis' own hubris that cost Esther her life. After a year together, Artemis brought the young woman with her, to the next Festival of Life. There, in secret, Artemis fed her share of ambrosia to her lover, in the hopes that divinity might reach out its hand and grant her eternal life. Instead, it strangled her. Esther screamed, and writhed, and within a moment, was burned away by the fruit of the gods, her mortal soul scorched by the light of the divine. Artemis held the corpse in her arms, and swore an oath; no more innocents would fall before her. And so, after decades of rage, Artemis finally calmed herself, for Esther. She was an arbiter of justice no longer. As castles rose and with them, new empires, Artemis positioned herself in places of power, a wise woman on the shoulder of kings. She did what she could to honor Esther, to hold true to her vow. She preached moderation in times of excess, restraint in times of war. Her folly was not in her words, but in her belief that deep down, every mortal was as good and innocent as the woman she'd loved. The truth was that few were. Every day without Esther reminded her of the sins of man, and made it harder and harder to keep her oath. Artemis kept her oath though, until the world demanded more of her. She did not give in to the rage she'd felt once before. She approached the world with her old calculated certainty, an arrow in the dark. Subterfuge and politicking became her arrows, whispers her bow. Violence was no longer her way. Of course, words can be just as violent as a blade. With a new group of girls to serve as eyes and ears, Artemis built influence and wealth across her many identities, enough so that she could live luxuriously, while tipping decisions in favor of the downtrodden whenever she could. Was she a champion of the people? That's likely too generous. However, in the faces of beggars, she saw Esther staring back at her, challenging her to do better, to be better. She helped where she could, while she secured herself a position in the world of man. She carried her influence over to America, and now, in Seattle, she continues her games. Selena O'Ryan is an enigma in the city's high society. Little is known about her prior to her arrival on the coast, but it's clear that she is ambitious. Officially, she runs a meditative retreat on the edge of the city, dedicated to women's health. Unofficially, she is the woman with an ear in every office, a girl in every room. She is the Moon, and the Moon is always watching. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Artemis is swayed by little. While her family is always a priority of sorts, she long ago learned to leave them to their mistakes. She will defend them if need be, but she despises their petty drama, and does her best to rise above it. That is of course, until she finds herself offended. Primarily, Artemis desires the safety of her girls, by whatever means necessary. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ The day the mortals find them. She does not need her brother's gifts of prophecy to know that they will come again, just as they did all those centuries ago. The world is advancing, and she worries about the day when humans tire of Prometheus' Flame, and fill their greedy hearts with the desire for more.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Artemis, goddess of the hunt

g o d e s s o f t h e h u n t
_{A R T E M I S 
A R T E M I S}

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	hunter schaefer | #5e74ee ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Lady of the Hunt Mistress of the Wood Diana ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ the hunt, wilderness, the moon, chastity ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{easy they come, easy they go, i jump from the train, i ride off alone}}

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 T H E C A L L O F T H E W I L D
T H E C A L L O F T H E W I L D

^{There was a time when Artemis was a storm of divine power. The trees bowed for her, the animals of the forest loved her kind hands and feared her swift arrows, and she had mastered the moon and all its silver light. Once upon a time, she was a terror to those who'd scorned her, but now, Artemis is little more than a dog whisperer. While she retained a stunning control over wild animals, the rest of her divine gifts seem to have faded.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{i never grew up, it's getting so old, help me hold onto you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Diligent & Reliable Honorable & Brave Wise & Responsible⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Vengeful & Petty Hypocritical & Manipulative Arrogant & Cruel ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Selena O'Ryan ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty four ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ lesbian (except for that one time), female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Owner and operator of Moon River Retreat

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{i've been the archer, i've been the prey. who could ever leave me, darling? but who could stay?}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Perhaps Artemis' nature is not surprising, given the nature of her beginning. Conceived out of a tryst between Zeus and Leto, Artemis and her brother were forced to face Hera's wrath while still in the womb. No place was safe for her mother, not with Hera's serpent following her every move. When Leto finally found refuge on Delos, the twins were nearly there. Artemis came into the world, stoic from the moment she opened her eyes. Her infancy was short lived, as moments later, she helped deliver her brother. While her brother sought immediate vengeance on Hera's beast, Artemis, always the more calculated of the twins, was far more willing to bide her time. While her brother gallivanted across the earth, inspiring mortals and finding pleasure wherever a lyre was plucked, Artemis spent her time traipsing through the forest, hunting the creatures of the earth and exploring the unknown wilds. She did share her brother's interest in mortals though, at least certain ones. Artemis was known to collect young maidens like they were coins, often saving them from the terrors of the forest. Always young, always virginal, always beautiful. These were the benefits of being a Huntress. Some think Artemis' vow of chastity is as old as time itself, entwine with her essence. While it's true that she took chastity as a sign of devotion in her Huntresses, Artemis did not take her own vow until later. Not until Orion. He had been a demigod, a child of Poseidon and a princess of Crete. Their meeting was fortuitous, and Artemis, whose eyes were rarely drawn to anything other than adventure, found herself enthralled by the young hunter. She began to spend her days with him, the first man to hold her bow, and those days turned into weeks, and then months. At night, they lay beneath the moon and watched the stars. It was perfect... until it wasn't. Mortals don't live forever, she knew that, but she had not expected him to be taken so suddenly. The scorpion moved faster, even faster than her, and she'd turned her back to him, and... when she turned to face him again, he was dead. She asked her father to bury him amongst the stars, and swore off love and anything that might lead to it. Artemis was always colder than her brother, more prone to offense, but after Orion she seemed to grow even closer to the wilds that she loved so much. Her vengeance became legendary in the wake of her grief. The likes of Actaeon and Niobe learned that the hard way. Artemis' wrath was terrifying, and lasting. When Apollo came to her, fuming over Hyacinth's death and seeking revenge on Boreas' blood, she was all too happy to help. She'd always thought it silly to entrust Titans with the Sun and Moon. The only trustworthy one was her mother. She took the responsibility of her chariot much more seriously than her brother. In part, she enjoyed the solitude, and the respect the mortals heaped upon her as she drew the silver light across the sky. Truly though, what she loved the most, was the proximity to Orion. Every night, she got to visit his resting place, where he watched over her with shining, bright eyes. She would've traded anything, to stay there amongst the stars with him. Alas, the Fates had other plans. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ At first, there was darkness. Never ending shadows, impenetrable, unescapable. Soon though, the darkness faded, and dreams swept her away. Orion was there, guiding her through the labyrinth of her mind, until, with a crash, he was taken away again. As she and the other gods began to stir, the dream faded away, and when she awoke, she was not alone. Perhaps it was a good thing that Artemis was one of the last to awake. Had she had it her way, there would've been a massacre, but cooler heads prevailed. She stuck around long enough to learn that nobody knew anything truly useful, before slipping off to explore this new world. When she wasn't checking in on the immortal leech that was her brother, she was hunting in the woods. She never lost her love of followers, and wherever she tread, young women seemed to trail close behind. Some were girls she'd rescued from danger, others had simply heard tales of a band of women traveling through the wilderness, and sought to join. Artemis offered them a rare form of adventure, not easily found for girls of the town. All she asked for in return, was devotion. In the early years, she did not hide what she was from them. She saw no reason to. But mortals were cruel, and soon, word of her travels reached the wrong ears. After centuries on Earth, many of Artemis' memories have blended together or faded completely, but she never forgot the night the Christians came. The sound of hooves beating the ground raw woke her, and she opened her tent to see them bearing down on her camp, bringing fire and steel. Her and her girls fought back, valiantly. She called on the forest for aid, but she was not the goddess she once was. So she was forced to watch as men ripped her life to shreds. They killed her, and left her for dead, and while her consciousness swam in a formless haze, she plotted. Revenge, not on the men who'd wronged her, for they were numerous and masked. She'd have to settle for those they protected, those they fought for. When she rose again, she set out on her bloody path. In between Festivals, she tore swathes across the countrysides, a pale spirit of vengeance haunting from the shadows, all those mortals who turned to that false god. She was not such a great warrior that she was free from defeat. But each time they cut her down, she rose, made stronger by rage. A boogeyman to haunt the Dark Ages. The years fell away however, and Artemis' crusade did little in the grand scheme of things. She watched as the monuments to her family were torn down, as the remnants of her people were scattered to the winds, or forced under the yoke of the Nazarene. Few know why Artemis ceased her bloody vengeance. She has always kept her pain close to her. Apollo though, and a handful of other Olympians, know that it was love that stayed the Moon's blade, just as it had set it into motion. Her name was Esther, and she was everything. Courageous, compassionate, willful. When Artemis came for her village, it was Esther who stayed the moon goddess' hand, froze the notched arrow. In Esther, Artemis was reminded of the virtues that mortals possessed, and so she agreed to spare the town, so long as Esther traveled with her. Initially, Esther resented the arrangement, but this only made her more unique in Artemis' eyes. In the woods, they grew close. Esther was wise, and Artemis enjoyed that wisdom. She had grown so tired of nights without conversation, nights without love. Esther unearthed a kindness in her that Artemis had thought lost amidst the stars. Under the light of the moon, a bond grew, deeper than the one she'd shared with Orion, or anyone before. In the end, it was Artemis' own hubris that cost Esther her life. After a year together, Artemis brought the young woman with her, to the next Festival of Life. There, in secret, Artemis fed her share of ambrosia to her lover, in the hopes that divinity might reach out its hand and grant her eternal life. Instead, it strangled her. Esther screamed, and writhed, and within a moment, was burned away by the fruit of the gods, her mortal soul scorched by the light of the divine. Artemis held the corpse in her arms, and swore an oath; no more innocents would fall before her. And so, after decades of rage, Artemis finally calmed herself, for Esther. She was an arbiter of justice no longer. As castles rose and with them, new empires, Artemis positioned herself in places of power, a wise woman on the shoulder of kings. She did what she could to honor Esther, to hold true to her vow. She preached moderation in times of excess, restraint in times of war. Her folly was not in her words, but in her belief that deep down, every mortal was as good and innocent as the woman she'd loved. The truth was that few were. Every day without Esther reminded her of the sins of man, and made it harder and harder to keep her oath. Artemis kept her oath though, until the world demanded more of her. She did not give in to the rage she'd felt once before. She approached the world with her old calculated certainty, an arrow in the dark. Subterfuge and politicking became her arrows, whispers her bow. Violence was no longer her way. Of course, words can be just as violent as a blade. With a new group of girls to serve as eyes and ears, Artemis built influence and wealth across her many identities, enough so that she could live luxuriously, while tipping decisions in favor of the downtrodden whenever she could. Was she a champion of the people? That's likely too generous. However, in the faces of beggars, she saw Esther staring back at her, challenging her to do better, to be better. She helped where she could, while she secured herself a position in the world of man. She carried her influence over to America, and now, in Seattle, she continues her games. Selena O'Ryan is an enigma in the city's high society. Little is known about her prior to her arrival on the coast, but it's clear that she is ambitious. Officially, she runs a meditative retreat on the edge of the city, dedicated to women's health. Unofficially, she is the woman with an ear in every office, a girl in every room. She is the Moon, and the Moon is always watching. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Artemis is swayed by little. While her family is always a priority of sorts, she long ago learned to leave them to their mistakes. She will defend them if need be, but she despises their petty drama, and does her best to rise above it. That is of course, until she finds herself offended. Primarily, Artemis desires the safety of her girls, by whatever means necessary. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ The day the mortals find them. She does not need her brother's gifts of prophecy to know that they will come again, just as they did all those centuries ago. The world is advancing, and she worries about the day when humans tire of Prometheus' Flame, and fill their greedy hearts with the desire for more.

Anteros, god of lovers

g o d o f l o v e r s
_{A N T E R O S 
A N T E R O S}

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xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx	harris dickinson | #facade ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Erote ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ requited love and lovers ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤	xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{i am your sweetheart psychopathic crush, drink up your movements, still i can't get enough}}

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 L O V E ' S T O U C H
L O V E ' S T O U C H

^{What was once a piece of a larger group of powers that could bring Greece to its knees, is now just a sliver of divinity. Anteros once reigned over those sweethearts so happily in love, second only to his mother in that domain. Today, he is still tapped into the power we call love, though his grasp on it is tenuous at best. Once though, he could send mortals swooning after one another, proclaiming their eternal love, and it would be real. Now, he has only the most minor of influences over the minds of mortals and gods. He has no power to place love where it has never been, but where there is a mutual love, he can sense it and nudge the participants together.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{I overthink your punctuation use, not my fault, just a thing that my mind do}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Compassionate & Clever Loyal & Patient Trusting & Sincere⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Gullible & Vengeful Controlling & Emotional Shortsighted & Self-hating ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Jacek Philon ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty one ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ pansexual, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ College Student

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{our thing progresses, i call and you come through, blow all my friendships, to sit in hell with you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Before Pothos, there was Eros, the winged god of love found through lust. Atop Olympus though, Eros was one of few children, and so, as gods are wont to do, Ares and Aphrodite conceived a playmate for Eros, a brother. For love must not be alone, to flourish. So it was that Anteros sprang into being, a boy with a pleasing disposition and the wings of a butterfly. He was born to keep Eros company, to keep him happy, and so he did. The brothers spent those years as a duo. Eros, with his bow, drove the humans into the throes of passion, and Anteros decided which pairings were meant to be, tying people together with his own arrows. He grew fond of his position, content to follow Eros, so long as none interfered in his pairings. Of course, interference was inevitable. Soon, two became three, and with the birth of Pothos, Anteros became part of the Erotes. Pothos and her lead arrows brought complications, wrenches thrown into the delicate gears of the relationships he so loved to cultivate. He took to stealing away from his siblings, hiding those couples he valued most from their prying eyes. He found Apollo and Hyacinthus on one of these days, and watched as their love turned to ashes pressed against the sun god's chest. He watched as Theseus deposited Ariadne on a desert island, scorning the love that Anteros had so carefully cultivated. He saw Patroclus fall, and Achilles driven into madness by fate. In these stories and many others, he learned something. It was not Pothos who brought pain to relationships. Her meddling was not required most times. To love was to lose, to hurt. This revelation brought him to his knees, forced him into mourning. For what was he if not a bringer of pain? Was he any different than Phobos and Deimos, the twins of terror? Perhaps it was his siblings who were merciful, for all he did was ensure the pain of a broken heart. If he was intent on finding an answer to this eternal problem, it was of no use. As Anteros struggled with his place, the World Tree was shriveling, dying, poisoned at the root. With a terrible roar, Olympus fell from the sky, and Anteros fell with it. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ Mortaldom was, surprisingly, the perfect antidote to his melancholy. Anteros became known amongst the fallen gods for his fast and fleeting romances. He was prone to falling headfirst into passionate, whirlwind romances that left him reeling. He entered a cycle, finding a new lover, exhausting them, wallowing in the pain of the breakup, celebrating his new freedom to love and be loved, and starting the whole thing over again. Throughout the years on Earth, Anteros was never one to stray from his family. His earlier gripes had been washed away by their new situation, and without the weight of their responsibilities, Anteros found his siblings more tolerable than he had in the days of Olympus. Modernity ushered the world into ever changing eras, and as wandering became less viable, Anteros surrounded himself with mortal youths. He enrolled in college, too many times to count, less for the education and moreso to be around the myriad of young adults searching for love between classes. As his own human dalliances bored him more and more, he once again took pleasure in pushing people together and playing matchmaker. No longer was he forced to watch people fall apart. He could watch the good part, and pretend it all worked out like the fairy tales. In Seattle, Anteros has found himself at school once more, enjoying his endless days. Mortal life has only grown infinitely more interesting to him in the centuries since the Fall, and he is not likely to give it up anytime soon. He's come to enjoy the quirks of this life, and the ease with which he moves through it. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Anteros is driven by two things: his own whims, and those of his family. He does what he wants, most of the time, and what he wants is hardly of importance to the likes of Zeus and Ra. However, when his mother or siblings come calling, he is a loyal servant, born to follow them wherever they might lead him. He wants what they want, even if it kills him sometimes. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ Love, hate, sadness and pain. These are emotions that Anteros knows well. Fear though, is unfamiliar to him. He felt it first, as Olympus fell. Later, he felt the gnawings of it at his stomach, when Eros skipped a Conclave. The centuries have given him time to mull on that which makes him afraid, and he's concluded that it is the idea of losing his family. Not necessarily because of the pain (though he imagines there would be quite a bit of that) but because he is unsure who he is without them. He is an Erote, even as a mortal. All his running from them would never change the fact that he was born to keep Eros company. Without the others, he is nothing.

Apollo, god of music and oracles

g o d o f m u s i c
_{A P O L L O 
A P O L L O}

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	brenton thwaites | #eed873 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ The Bright One ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ oracles, the sun, music, healing and poetry ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{so many tears I've cried, so much pain inside}}

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 P R O P H E C Y
P R O P H E C Y

^{Many people, including Apollo himself, have forgotten his role as the patron of oracles. The universe, it seems, did not. Apollo's songs, enchanting as they are, are ever so often tinged with words of prophetic wisdom. He knows precious little about what the future holds, only that sometimes, his lyrics light the way.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{but baby, it ain't over till it's over}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Optimistic & Creative Passionate & Empathetic Loyal & Brave⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Hedonistic & Impulsive Vengeful & Manipulative Juvenile & Vain ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Alexander Calimeris ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ twenty four ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ bicon, male, he/him ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Host of popular radio show, Rise and Whine.

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{so many years we've tried to keep our love alive}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Zeus had never been known for his fidelity, of that, everyone can agree. Leto was just another woman in a long line of affairs, hardly even the first to get pregnant. Nevertheless, Hera came at her with all the rage she usually mustered, and sent the serpent Python slithering after the pregnant Leto. Tired and alone, with the serpent closing in, Leto found refuge on Delos, the ever moving island. Unbound, Delos floated across the many seas, keeping Leto safe from Python. It was on Delos where the twins were born, first Artemis, and then her brother, golden Apollo. Suckling on nectar and nibbling on ambrosia, Apollo grew faster than any mortal. He was fully grown within days, and hungry for vengeance on the beast that had hunted his mother. A babe in man's clothes, he slung his bow across his back and set off to slay a monster. He found the serpent at Delphi, guarding the resting place of his mother, Gaia. Their battle raged for three days, and three nights, but as the sun rose on the fourth morning, Apollo loosed his final arrow, and the great Python fell to the ground, dead. Apollo took Delphi as his sacred site after the battle, and in the years to come, he'd be known as the patron of Oracles. As a young Olympian, Apollo flaunted his divinity every chance he got, leading him into a myriad of troubling situations. Everyone knows the story of him, Daphne, and Eros' accursed arrows. For a long time, Apollo was a sort of proof that gods were just as unchanging as the mortals they lorded over. That is, until Hyacinth. Brash and braggadocios, Apollo was known for falling fast, and leaving faster. What drew him so closely to Hyacinth, none can say for certain. Perhaps it was his beauty, supposedly unmatched, or perhaps it was the fact that Hyacinth chose Apollo over all his other suitors? Whatever the reason, their love, like everything Apollo was apart of, was bright and splendid. Of course, like anything involving a mortal, it was also fleeting. Hyacinth's choice had angered Boreas, the North Wind, and he was not known for his forgiveness. One day, while Apollo and Hyacinth were throwing a discus, Boreas swooped down, and sent the disc crashing into Hyacinth's skull. He was dead before he hit the ground. Apollo held him until the sun went down, and on the earth, where divine tears and mortal blood mingled, a flower grew. Apollo named the flower for his dead lover, and buried him at the foot of his temple. Then he swore his revenge. Zeus had forbade him from taking revenge on the winds, but he had said nothing about the other Titans, those who'd sided with the gods and been allowed to keep their domains in return for their loyalty. Boreas' uncle, the titan Helios, held the sun, and his aunt Selene, the moon. With his sister at his side, Apollo challenged Helios to an archery contest, demanding that he answer for his nephew's crime. Artemis demanded the same challenge of Selene. The stakes? The coveted chariots of the Sun and Moon, one a shining star of gold, the other a shimmering silver. The titans lost that day, and with their chariots went any hope of a return. The Olympians had taken what remained of their regality, and they had nothing left but immortality. Gilded as he already was, the sun was little more than a trinket for Apollo. The awesome responsibility of the chariot was often lost on him, a child in the body of a man, who would rather pluck at a lyre than do any real work. Apollo, more than anything, loved to be worshipped. The sun was ultimately, just another source of mortal prayers to feed his immortal ego. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ The lead up to The Fall is still a dark spot in the sun god's memories. A fuzzy period, within which he can find no solid ground. Those early days though, after The Fall? He remembers those well. The chaos the gods found themselves in, the despair they all shared. Apollo had despised his mortality, had raged against these new chains. In the months following his new status, he drowned himself in the physical pleasures of the earth, base as they may be. No mortal music sounded quite the same as the melodies that he had commanded on Olympus, and no mortal lips were as sweet as those of Hyacinth. It was Artemis who pulled him from melancholy, with news of the Tree. Not the World Tree, that had upheld their mighty realms, but a sapling, one that might maintain their immortality, preserve their godhood until the day it might be saved. So it was, that Apollo found himself at the first Conclave, eating the fruit of this new Tree. As months became years, and years decades, Apollo began to adapt to his new situation. He was petulant, certainly, but there is only so long that one can be resist the workings of fate. He knew this better than most. Mortals were entertaining, at the very least, and with the passage of time halted by his yearly ambrosia, he had eternity to spend amongst them. He traveled far and wide, to Babylon and Constantinople. He watched as empires rose and fell, as mortals discovered new ways to inspire him. Legends circulated of a man, a wanderer who brought only instruments and revelry. Some whispered that if you pleased him, he might even leave a prophecy behind, as a thank you. He misses those days, when stories were just stories, and he and the others had the freedom to exist as they pleased. Of course, the mortals had to go and muck that up too. Apollo might've given them music and culture, but Hephaestus had given them industry and innovation. With that spark, they created even more weapons to defend their great works, and they destroyed any who threatened them. By the time the gods and their tree finally left Europe, he was glad to be free of the continent; the taste of the air had soured there. In America, Apollo found a new home. He'd been before, to sample the liquor of Prohibition, but the country waiting for him two decades later was much different. He was particularly partial to the 60's, when free love reigned and a party was never hard to find. Recent years saw him following the Tree, still beholden to it for his immortality, and immortality he has no intention of ever losing. Mortaldom might be a punishment, but it is nothing compared to the darkness of death that plagues his dreams. In Seattle, Apollo has become Alexander Calimeris, a minor local celebrity thanks to his radio show, Rise and Whine, where, in between carefully curated song selection, Apollo complains about a new thing everyday. In truth, Apollo isn't doing anything differently. He's partying, and inspiring mortals, all with his usual casual attitude. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Apollo gave up on goals a long time ago. He's enjoying immortality as much as he can, uninterested in the greater machinations of his family. He will fight for them if the time comes, but it's been a long time away from Olympus, and any threats have yet to show themselves. He's beginning to think they never will. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ Death. The permanent one. He knows what awaits gods when they die, or at least, he knows it's not Elysium.

Hera, goddess of marriage

g o d d e s s o f m a r r i a g e
_{H E R A 
H E R A}

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	cate blanchett | #7845b8 ████████████████████████ 𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊   𝕿 𝖍 𝖊 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 ⌜ 𝐄 𝐏 𝐈 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐓 ⌟ Queen of the Gods ⌜ 𝐃 𝐎 𝐌 𝐀 𝐈 𝐍 ⌟ marriage, women, and childbirth ⌜ 𝐏 𝐀 𝐍 𝐓 𝐇 𝐄 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Greek ♤

𝐃 𝐈 𝐕 𝐈 𝐍 𝐄 ♤ 𝐏 𝐎 𝐖 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒
_{^{'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl}}

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 U L T R A S O U N D
U L T R A S O U N D

^{As the goddess of childbirth, Hera oversaw the birth of most children, mortal and divine. In her mortal form, Hera is still very much a fertility goddess, able to sense the pregnancies of nearby mortals and gods alike. She has no control over the fate of the child, but she is something better than an ultrasound. Her gift allows her to determine sex, parentage, even health.}

𝐈 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐑 ♤ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐋 𝐅
_{^{I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐫 𝐭 𝐮 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Empathetic & Shrewd Resourceful & Resolute Inimitable & Maternal⌟	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅	▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ███████████████ 𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬   𝐕 𝐢 𝐜 𝐞 𝐬 ⌜ Envious & Vindictive Judgemental & Selfish Callous & Shortsighted ⌟

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	████████████████████████ т н є м σ я т α ℓ   т н є м σ я т α ℓ ⌜ 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐀 𝐒 ⌟ Marilyn Montgomery ⌜ 𝐑 𝐄 𝐂 𝐎 𝐑 𝐃 𝐄 𝐃 𝐀 𝐆 𝐄 ⌟ forty three ⌜ 𝐒 𝐄 𝐗 𝐔 𝐀 𝐋 𝐈 𝐓 𝐘 & 𝐆 𝐄 𝐍 𝐃 𝐄 𝐑 ⌟ heterosexual, female, she/her ⌜ 𝐎 𝐂 𝐂 𝐔 𝐏 𝐀 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 ⌟ Divorce attorney

𝐋 𝐈 𝐅 𝐄 ♤ 𝐒 𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐘
_{^{And I never got past what you put me through, but it's wonderful to see that it never phased you}}

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▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲   𝐌 𝐲 𝐭 𝐡 𝐨 𝐥 𝐨 𝐠 𝐲 ⌜ 𝕯 𝖎 𝖛 𝖎 𝖓 𝖊 𝕷 𝖎 𝖋 𝖊 ⌟ ♤ Hera's life before the fall is a famously tragic tale. Swallowed by her father only moments after birth, she grew up in darkness, with the earliest of Olympians. She remembers little about that time, save the blinding light that came to save them from imprisonment. That, she will never forget, not even when her skin and bones have crumbled into ashes and rejoined the silt of creation. When Zeus freed his siblings from his father's stomach, he enlisted them in his war against the Titans. He took Hera as his queen, a marriage before a war. By his side, Hera slew countless foes. The war raged on, the land torn asunder, and still she fought. She fought for her new husband, and the children he would grant her. She fought for the splendor he would lay at her feet and the throne that he had promised her. Hera's prowess in battle was oft forgotten by the likes of Homer, but it was prevalent nonetheless. She was an Olympian, after all. When the Titans lay broken at the feet of their usurpers, Hera rejoiced with the others, and cradled the empty womb, sure to bear the Prince of Olympus. Only, Hera's child was not the first to be born. Zeus sired three children, one with Metis, two with Leto, before deigning to lay with the woman he'd married. This was only the first of many slights. Hera was forced to watch as Zeus paraded his dalliances across Olympus. She became known for her rage, and Zeus? He became known for his power. It sickened her. Watching him reap the benefits of her work. It was she who tended the divine court, she who wore the crown of a queen. Yet, her son received scorn, while Zeus' bastards were lauded with accolades and power. Wise Athena, Golden Apollo, Shining Artemis. The ever present thorns in her side. Of course, it was not enough for Zeus to simply humiliate her. She could live with humiliation, if it meant that Ares would one day get the position he was owed. When she heard of Zagreus, the unnatural spawn of Life and Death, she was appalled. Zeus had promised the boy a marriage, and a throne, a throne that was her son's by right. This would not stand. She met with Leto, away from the watchful eyes of her brethren, and together, they hatched a plan. United by their hatred of this usurper, the two women led him on a wild goose chase, into the maw of Tartarus. Her only regret was that she needed Leto's help to make it happen. She had plans for Olympus, for Zeus. With Zagreus gone, only Athena and Apollo seemed to present worthy threats to her son's inheritance. Artemis was unconcerned with the power plays of her family, but Athena would claim it, simply to vex Ares, and Apollo was a glutton for spectacle. He would not easily turn his head at a crown. No matter. These two were simply obstacles to be removed. And they might have been, had the world not suddenly crashed in all around her, crushing any hopes she had of redemption. ██████████████████████ 𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲   𝐁 𝐢 𝐨 𝐠 𝐫 𝐚 𝐩 𝐡 𝐲 ⌜ м σ я т α ℓ ℓ ι f є ⌟ ♤ What does a queen do without her throne, her crown, or her subjects? Hera had never been forced to ask the question before, but in the wake of Apocalypse, she found herself desperate for an answer. Strong as she was, she had never been...alone. Not once. If she was not accompanied by one of the Olympians, then her handmaids trailed behind her and served at her beck and call. Now, cut off from her power, she had nothing, nothing except her family. Maybe it was hope, or maybe it was old habits, but she tried and failed to make Zeus an honest man. Mortaldom had not changed him much, it seemed. Failing with her husband, Hera turned to her children, rotating amongst Ares, Hephaestus, Eileithia, and Hebe. Some enjoyed her more than others, though none could say that Hera had nothing to offer. Overbearing as she was, her mortal life gave her more time to devote to their wellbeing, and their ambitions only benefitted from her continued attention. Far from Olympus, she still fancied herself a kingmaker. The occasional desire for independence surfaced sometime in their third century on Earth, a nagging whisper in her head. She followed it, out into the world, and found that being alone was not quite so frightening as it had been. She did not need Zeus, or her crown, to prove her worth. The mortals saw it, painted across every inch of her. She was regality incarnate, and where she walked, they practically begged to serve her. When Hera wasn't advising one of her children, or meddling in their lives, she found herself hosted in the courts of kings, an enigmatic woman of mysterious origins, paying her way with secrets and whispers. She went on like this for centuries it seemed, the picture of the middle class divorcee, centuries before it would be so in vogue. Loathe as she is to admit it, Artemis was the inspiration for the next phase of her mortal life. Her affinity with the savage girls she collected gave the queen an idea. The mortals clearly needed saving, uplifting, and Artemis certainly wasn't doing them any favors. So it was, as the world prepared for a second war Helena Albrecht arrived on the streets of London, a matronly but stern governess, and the headmistress of Albrecht School For Girls. It was a surprisingly apt role for the former queen, and she grew to think of the girls left in her care as her own children. She did not teach them archery or espionage like Artemis. Rather, she taught them etiquette, literature and poetry, with a healthy dose of statecraft, for every woman must know how to rule, even if her kingdom is just four walls. Then the bombs came. In an instant, the Fall returned for her, and her world was torn asunder. She choked on fire and ash, awash in chaos. When she awoke, she was alone, in the ruins of her school. Her children were gone, and with them, her good will. Hera had been scorned for the last time. She grew colder, if that was even possible. Her walls became bulwarks, and whatever glimmer of mercy that shone inside died with the girls of the Albrecht School. Hera sharpened her edges in America, as a businesswoman, as a small town politician, even as a crime boss. Seattle has witnessed this queen reborn in the form of Marilyn Montgomery, suave and sophisticated socialite, stunningly effective divorce attorney, and ruthless social climber. Rumor has it that Marilyn has eyes on the mayor's seat, but the truth is, Hera has much bigger plans in mind. ██████████████████████ 𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬   𝐌 𝐨 𝐭 𝐢 𝐯 𝐚 𝐭 𝐢 𝐨 𝐧 𝐬 ⌜ α м в ι т ι σ и ѕ ⌟ ♤ Hera wants power, plain and simple. She strives for the respect she's entitled to, not just for herself, but for her children as well. ⌜ f є α я ѕ ⌟ ♤ The death of all her children.

Descension {A God RP}

#blessed