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Dead inside, but somehow still kicking.

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In 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟ → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖚𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘
𝕯𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖚𝖘𝖘𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘

location: Outside Odin's Place | In the car
interactions: Anteros | Hati | Tochi | Hermes
mentions: Deimos | Odin | Athena | Isabel



Anteros stood outside Odin’s apartment building, his tuxedo now covered by a heavy coat to combat the Seattle chill. He wrung his hands together while he waited for Hati to return from Odin’s penthouse, trying his best to push thoughts of his sister from his mind. Athena is on it. She will find her.

He’d wanted to go up with Hati, but he allowed himself to be relegated to this vantage point outside. He could’ve fought him on it, but he respected that Hati and Odin had a complicated relationship, one that Hati wasn’t exactly keen to have on display. He could relate to that. Still, worry for his friend continued to creep through his thoughts until Hati stepped outside and he was able to breathe a sigh of relief.

“How did that go?” he asked, stepping off the wall and smoothing out his coat.

A lot of things were turning over in his mind, so much so that it made his head hurt and stomach churn the more he thought about it. But there was just something about all of this that screams of corruption in a way that was much, much larger than anything he had faced before. Larger than even the High One could ever hope to orchestrate. His gaze only softened when eyes raked over Ant’s features, huddled there under the awning trying to keep dry and warm. It was as if a wave of relief washed over him, to see the Erote there, waiting for him.

Sighing heavily and running a hand through his hair, musing it up in the process, he voiced some of the issues plaguing his mind. It would be a moment before the winged messenger came to pick them up, they had time to mull over the events of the day. "It went about as expected, the old man is saying he doesn’t know anything but I call bullshit," The pressure from grinding his teeth together was enough to be heard, even as he continued on, "He knows something," his hair was slowly growing more and more out of control the longer he continued to play with it. A habit only showcased after speaking or coming into contact with the Norse Zeus.

"What is he playing at? Why hadn’t he informed the divine within the confines of the law about the weapon and its capabilities—"

Anteros stepped closer to the wolf, and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. “Don’t let him send you spiraling. That’s the last thing we need right now.” He removed his hand before his emotions could overtake him and he attempted to smooth out Hati’s hair. They had not been those kinds of friends for quite some time.

“If Odin’s claiming the weapon was used without him knowing, perhaps that answers your question. You know him better than I do, would he really announce to all the pantheons that his vault had been pilfered?”

How Hati wished that he had kept his contact with him. How he craved it, though he wouldn't be so bold as to say as much now. Not today. After everything that has transpired between waking and now... it wouldn't be fair to either party involved; even to those not present. Sighing heavily he nodded, Anteros was always someone who could speak sense into that thick canine skull of his, and for that he was more than appreciative. "You're right. He would have gloated and made some kind of show... even in riddles he can't hide his pride for long. And there was none of that." A beat passed between them as the rest of the world continued on around them. Lights and sounds and smells jumbled amidst one another, pieced together to make up the night; an almost calming end to a chaotic day.

"Tell me," Hati began carefully. How he chose his next words could either break their lifelong friendship or break Anteros mentally, and the Moon Chaser would much rather break their relationship over seeing him so torn up and empty. "That woman I told you about earlier. The new client turns out she is your half sister... and I think she's involved with these crimes," He scanned the Erote's profile for any signs of agitation, trying to prepare for whatever came next.

Pursed lips betrayed Anteros’ feelings on the subject, even as his eyes darted away from Hati’s. A mortal half-sister to replace the immortal one. The Fates certainly had a cruel sense of humor. “My siblings do have a penchant for violence, more often than not,” Anteros said with a sigh. This day was neverending, and so it seemed, was the flow of unfortunate news. He clenched his fist, digging his fingernails into the skin of his thumb as he fought to remain his calm and composed self. He did not have the energy to lose control of his emotions once more. “Why do you suspect her? Cause if it’s daddy issues, I might be inclined to take her side.”

Hati couldn't help the barking laugh that escaped him. "Daddy issues... how I wish it were that simple. If that were the only deciding factor than a lot more than your new found half sister would be on the list." His insensitivity was not at the expense of Anteros' suffering, never. But he found the comment, though poking it was, to be the sort of dark humor he needed. "No, I suspect her involvement because of how she came into town, the day the Festival began, so high and mighty. There's no way she wasn't aware of the divine, us meeting for the apples. Seeking me out for some fool's errand? It all seems too convenient for my liking. Why else would she be here than to cause some chaos?" He shot a glare past Ant's head towards the oncoming headlights as they stood, huddled beneath the awning.

"Nothing about this day feels right. It's been off since this morning... since meeting her. It's when this, static like apprehension began. I don't like this, Ant. Something is very wrong, I can sense it." As if realizing his words however, he spun to face the young man beside him, grabbing a hold of his shoulders tightly, comfortingly. "I will do whatever I can to help aid your father and Athena in searching for Pothos, you know that, right?" Hati needed him to understand that. He wouldn't just let Anteros suffer in such a way. He hadn't had Sköll with him for ages now and he knew the ultimate grief that had begun to set into the bones of his old flame. It was only a matter of time before darker stages took root. Hati would do whatever it took to chase those demons away.

The moment between Anteros and Hati was looking closer and closer like something out of a saccharine soap opera and the only ones who liked those were retired or divorced women. It was scientifically proven. The headlights that had been seen were abruptly shut off as the vehicle rolled to a stop across from where Ant and Hati stood. Before a response could be given by Anteros, a sharp, loud, bleating blare of a horn pierced through the air. It lasted for what seemed an eternity - as anything loud and annoying does -and when it stopped at last there was an almost two second window before it sounded again. This one, somehow, lasted even longer. Naturally there was a third one that, strangely, was cut off far more quickly than the first two. The passenger side window rolled down and the shit-eating, wide grin of Huixtocihuatl smiled towards the pair under the awning.

“I hope you guys got condoms with how badly you’re eye fucking each other. Get in the car, nerds, I want a Happy Meal.”

Idle complaints from the driver could be heard, though not audible over the sounds of Tochi’s never-ending banter. Once she finished though, the driver side door flew open and a familiar voice filled the air. “For fuck’s sake, Hati, I’m not ubering you to a love hotel, my man. Sorry about her, she’s moody because I wouldn’t swing through the drive-thru on the way over here. Fuckin’ brat. Bet I’m expected to pay, too.” By the time Hermes had finished speaking, he was out of the car and leaning on the roof of it to peer over at Anteros and Hati. “Ant, you comin’ with us? We got an adventure to go on. And we’ll be going through the drive-thru.”

He paused and looked down at the car where Tochi still sat, before idly nodding his head with an overly dramatic sigh, “And yes, I’ll be paying, so don’t bust out your pocketbooks yet, lads. Let’s rock and roll. The backseat is dark, you guys can make goo-goo eyes and suck on each other’s tongues or whatever there.” Hermes said, drumming his hands on the roof of his car as he gestured for Hati and Anteros to move it along, “we’ve got a long night ahead of us, and I gotta feed my tortoises, so time is of the essence.”

Anteros sighed, the mood having been very passionately and violently murdered. He wondered if that was such a bad thing. He and Hati had given it a go, back in simpler times, and all he’d gotten for it were emotional scars and a penchant for troublemakers. “Hermes, Tochi, always a pleasure,” Ant said, stepping back from Hati. “Only you two could be present for a double homicide, and still be in the mood for chicken nuggets.” Anteros went around to the driver’s side and slipped into the backseat. “What exactly is this adventure?”

“Who cares about a double homicide? That happened like forever ago.” Tochi scoffed as she waited for the slowpoke lovebirds to get into the car; every second they wasted getting in was a second she was without late night McDonald’s in her throat. And everyone knew late night McDonald’s was one of the few things the mortals did that might have earned them a spot in paradise. “Oh wow someone died so sad. Let’s all stand around moping and discussing boring shit like ‘mortality’ or whatever and then later we can pull on each other’s dicks and smell our own farts.” Tochi’s voice was a mocking tone, she sounded as if she was trying to both be fancy and uptight but also someone masculine, like she was trying to be the Greek philosophers of old. Or what most poor people thought rich people with monocles sounded like.

“For the record, I don’t even want to be here, but Jerkass here kidnapped me. By getting into the car you’re both accessories to the crime, just ef-why-eye. Speaking of Jerkass, hey, Jerkass, lemme have the aux. You promised.’ He did no such thing and the last time Tochi had control of the aux when around Hermes she played Take My Breath Away by Berlin on loop. She hated the song, yes, but she liked making fun of Hermes for thinking the movie it came from was the apex of cinema. And then she played Disco Duck. Tochi was nothing if not an audio terrorist when given the opportunity.

“I still don’t even know why I’m here. I mean other than he promised McDonald’s. Why are you guys coming? Do you want me to adjust the mirrors so you guys can make out back there? I can promise to only watch until it gets creepy. And then a little more.”

The comments in general, for the moment that was there at least, were unwelcome, but nothing could be done about it now. Their ride was here. Hermes had mentioned something about needing to swing by and grab Deimos when he called his friend earlier. Not ideal, but what could he do? "Ah, little sister, good to see you too~" He purred, making sure to ruffle her hair a little more than usual as he made to sit in the cramped backseat. It would bother her no doubt - it's why he did it. "And if you want to watch so much, please make sure to record and post it. I'd like to make some money off of it." His quip didn't hold the same lightness to it that it typically would. Hati supposed it came from the agitation he still held from his meeting with Odin.

Hermes had pulled away from the curb as soon as the door closed and they were off on this "adventure" of grabbing food. The car was silent except for the Aztec gremlin's snorts and giggles as she shuffled through song after song all in the hopes of annoying the passengers around her. How in the world she was from the same pantheon as Tlazōlteōtl was a mystery to him. "Where is our lovely Dread this evening that she would need you to pick her up? Finally get caught doing something illegal?" The white wolf couldn't help but release a chuckle of his own as he peered at the driver from his place in the back. Anteros so close to him and yet much too far.

Anteros scoffed. “Knowing my sister, that is exactly where we are off to.” He shook his head, floored by the myriad of directions his family had managed to pull him in today, and by his own willingness to follow along every time.

Hermes adjusted the mirror to look back at Anteros and Hati in the backseat with a smirk on his lips. He hadn’t realized he’d have the honor of being the first to tell Anteros his sister had ended up in prison again. “From what she told me… she seems to have stabbed someone. And, as the one who holds her leash, it unfortunately falls on me to pay her bail and pick her up.” He adjusted the mirror to make eye contact with Hati, adding. “Don’t stick your dick in crazy, my man.” He said, before shifting the car into gear and pulling away from the curb he’d picked them up on.

“I hope she was wearing something cute when she got picked up, because we’re going to a party after this. And yes, Tochi, I’ll buy you chicken nuggets.” Hermes said, figuring that all of his i’s were dotted and his t’s crossed. “Any issues with the plan, tell me now.”

“You hold her leash? You’re not that kinky, dude and you’d definitely be the type to be led around by a woman. Cuz you a bitch!” Tochi took the opportunity to press a button on her phone which, because it was now hooked up to the speakers in the car, blasted the passengers with a loud, abrasive, piercing air horn straight from an app that existed only to play the air horn sound. “Get it? Cuz…bitches are girl dogs? I’m funny, it’s funny!”

Her point made, Tochi went back to doing what she did best: finding the absolute worst possible song for them to ride to on their epic journey with a wide smile on her face the entire time, like the kind a psychopath in a comic book would have just before gassing the mayor’s speech and getting punched by a freak in a black outfit. “Chicken nuggets? And a McFlurry. And a happy meal, but they better put it in an actual box. I’m tired of these clowns putting it in a bag. And an apple pie. And nuggets.” Her order continued until she found it. The perfect song to put on loop until Hermes tried to snatch the aux and potentially take his eyes off the road and cause an accident as Tochi snatched the aux away in an eternal game of snatch and grab.

“Hell yeah, let’s go to McDonald’s. And I guess break someone out of prison? I don’t know you guys bored me and I stopped listening. ONWARD.” And with the press of a button, their rescue anthem began to play to a cackling goddess of salt bouncing in the passenger seat.
In DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME] → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Sometime between 6AM - 7AM

Introducing and featuring students:
Phoebe Masterson, Brenna Lancaster
Light mentions of: Damon Day
Includes teachers: Bishop Hardy, Rebecca Morgan,
Eliana Lovelace, and Perseus “Perry” Creeden


____________________________________________________________________


____________________________________________________________________

@LovelyComplex & @smarty0114

On one side of the Arena, a CrossFit class was being held. Damon was showing a demonstration of a tire flip. Start off strong, make sure as you underhand grip, that your hands are placed on the treads. And lastly, power. Power is key. Drive up through your hips. Don’t use your back. This is a compound movement, a total-body workout. Build those muscles and get some cardio in too. When he watched the smaller people follow his lead, he nodded and moved to another group that looked exceedingly more fit. Walking past them, he went to the arch, gesturing for the few to follow him. He led them to a group of large boulders. They were regulars so they didn’t need a lesson and went straight to using their muscles to push the giant rocks.

Instructor Bishop Hardy leaned on the coliseum bench, beside his coworkers, Rebecca Morgan, Perseus “Perry” Creeden, and a restless member of the Academy, who wasn’t part of the Department of Discipline & Management, Eliana Crowne, Lovelace, or whatever the fuck. He sipped earl grey tea out of a paper cup. This was the start of his morning, supervising the CrossFit class. As for the rest of them, well, it was becoming a weird tradition for the gym teachers to sit here and drink their tea, coffee, and coffee spiked with booze (looking at you Perry). Eliana was a surprising addition this morning, but nevertheless welcomed by the Crestview staff members.

“Can’t stand this whole goddamn agenda you’s got going on,” Hardy glanced over at Eliana who was sitting two people away from him, “By you’s I mean your fucking family and all them special lineage motherfuckers. If people knew half the shit we knew. Fucking diabolical. Supes over here giving people false hope, and you’s over here enabling that mentality, making powerless pricks depend on the broken system. Don’t say you’s don’t think it’s broken either, Crowne. I see it. In your eyes. You know.”

“It really is too early for this, Bishop. Like goddamn. I don’t come here to talk about philosophy or conspiracy or shitty people. I come here to drink coffee and wake the fuck up. Oh Becs, I love that top, who are you wearing?” The Crisis Manager and teacher of all things Crisis and Disaster related, took a sip of his coffee only to grimace and mumble, “Not enough whiskey.”

“Oh, this?” Rebecca Morgan looked down at her top, a flowing, black, silk blouse. “It’s a gift from the hero days. Donatella was a big Aurora fan,” she said, sipping from her own coffee.

With her arms crossed, she listened to the two Crestview teachers in silence, while watching two girls on the other side of the arena, sparring. Eliana didn’t sleep the following night. She couldn’t stop playing back the night Crestview College burned to the ground. How unsettling it all was and felt. This wouldn’t be the first time something in Crystal Peak went down in flames and unfortunately for her, she was part of that fire too. Was this simply PTSD or was it something more? “I wouldn’t say I’m enabling anything, Instructor—”

“Bishop. None of that title shit.”

“—Bishop. I can only speak for myself. All I can do is prepare these kids for the world they’re getting thrown into, to the best of my capabilities. No one, not even you, can dismantle years of history.”

“She has her points, Bishop,” Rebecca said, eyes still trained on the students below them. “We can’t raise the next generation to be a bunch of anarchists like you. Where would we be then?” She smiled and turned to Eliana. “I take it Illuria is settling in well?”

“As much as she can for her first week. Please do challenge her differently than the rest of her year.” Eliana uncrossed her arms and reached for her phone in her purse, having felt a vibration by her foot. “With her exercise intolerance and insomnia, I do worry she’s going to pass out one of these days.” Grabbing her phone, she saw the notification of her uncle’s email to the student body. Quickly peering over it, the Dean's letter was rewarded with an eye roll. Placing her phone back into her purse, she returned her attention to Rebecca, “My biggest concern with her is her outbursts when she feels cornered. Her heart can’t handle that.”

“Fucking Christ,” Bishop listened to Eliana explain her daughter’s conditions and took another swig of his tea. “Lots of issues on that one if she ever gonna’ break into the industry.”

After downing his coffee, finishing it with ease, Perry clicked his tongue and dramatically proclaimed, “Speaking of issues!” The trauma man, the grief counselor, the one that has a degree in emergency and disaster management, the sponge for all things fucking tragic, Perry gestured to the two girls sparring. Phoebe Masterson and Brenna Lancaster. “Those two seem to be keeping their head above water. The fire really did paint them out to be the bad guys. Sad. They’re smart girls.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about them too much, Perry,” Rebecca said, smiling as Brenna and Phoebe traded blows. “Those two have never had an issue when it came to keeping up with the class, and I imagine they’ve grown used to some nasty looks.” Rebecca felt an attachment to all her students, but Brenna and Phoebe held a special place in her book. They reminded her quite a bit of herself at that age; strong willed and independent, with more than a few chips on either shoulder. “They have work to do, but I’m confident in both of their abilities, especially Phoebe’s. Who knows, if things continue as planned, this year’s graduating class could be the strongest in years.” Becca took another sip of her coffee. “Although, since when has anything in our lives proceeded as planned?”

If you’re fighting for your life, there are no rules. Brenna Lancaster was a master at that but when facing Phoebe, her endurance could not compete no matter how many low blows she tried to attempt. “Come on, don’t half ass,” Phoebe pulled back with her bo staff, rotating it around her hands and then swiftly spinning it, passing it from one hand to the other behind her back.

While this wasn’t Brenna’s preferred method of fighting, nor her first rodeo with her friend, Phoebe knew it would help the Ice Queen’s body overall. It wasn’t about who finished the obstacle course first. No, it was to see who could finish the combo first and with the staff, it was devastatingly quick in the right hands. Incredibly mobile, switching from high/low to low/high in a few simple motions, and when the sparring really got going, you could hear it whizzing in the air.

Still, it wasn’t about the fight. Brenna was too offensive at times. This was about defensive fighting, especially when you were at harm’s way, which Brenna wasn’t usually. Not really. She had the safety net of distance usually at her side. The best form of attack was defense. If there ever came a time when their powers suddenly disappeared, would Brenna be able to protect herself? That’s what Phoebe Masterson cared about.

To Phoebe, if you can master a stick, you can master other weapons easily, it simply depends on the amount of endurance you’ve built over time to wield it. Sure more archaic weapons and not guns, but relying heavily on the growing technology of the world would limit your potential. One should still learn how to use a gun, but if you didn’t have one and were left with just yourself, what would you do? How would you survey your environment? Could you take down the stronger opponent?

At least through this training, she could teach Brenna to use all her force, again and again and again, and drive past resistance when her arms wanted to fall off. Any idiot can swing a staff, but a trained warrior struck with intention and never wasted a step. Phoebe didn’t expect Brenna to become a staff wielder when her friend alone was a weapon herself, what she did expect was for Brenna to build up her technical aptitude so her ice complimented her. Powers were just that. An accessory to who you were. Martial arts was all about balance.

Poor footwork, bad stances, weak base.

Brenna was better than that. She was a queen, who fought alone, just like her, and they needed no one to make the world shake. As quick as Brenna charged at her, she was back on the floor with a quick leg swipe, while forcing her friend back with the bo. “Okay, no more stick,” Phoebe threw it to the side and offered her hand to Brenna, looking at her with a smirk on her face.

Phoebe was right. Brenna was better than that.

Brenna flashed a grin at one of the few people she called friend. “If you say so,” she said in between breaths, before gripping Phoebe’s hand with her right and yanking her towards the ground, while her left wrapped around Phoebe’s shoulder and shoved her towards the concrete, trading places with the older girl. Suddenly, the tables had turned, and Brenna was now straddling Phoebe’s back. “I do prefer it this way,” Brenna taunted.

The ice queen leapt up, stepping back in preparation for Phoebe’s own assault. Her arms burned and her legs screamed, but her face wore a smirk that she rarely graced others with. Good humor was hardly her strong suit. Nevertheless, this fight had her thrilled. It wasn’t that Brenna lived to train, but she did live to win, and right now, victory felt close enough to taste.

While Brenna was aiming to defeat her opponent, Phoebe wanted to overcome herself and all her limitations. One of her limitations was going too easy on her best friend. Like the element she learned to master, Phoebe became an accelerating burning inferno (metaphorically speaking) and quickly advanced toward Brenna. She lept in the air and went in for a full force kick and by seconds, Brenna dodged it and that’s when the fun began.

With whirling circular blocks, quickness, and aggressive strikes from both her fists and legs, Phoebe showed no mercy toward her friend, which she knew she’d return the favor. And Brenna did, matching her energy and getting plenty of hits in return. Phoebe preferred this type of fighting, without powers. It brought out the best or worst in people. She liked to size her challenger up with how their body handled its environment. How their mind dealt with constant pressure hitting them. Over and over again. And how the person tried to overtake her.

Truth be told, she was best with her takedown defense, grappling and apprehending, and the greatest thing about martial arts was it taught you humility fast. But this wasn’t about winning, this was about tiring Brenna out. To see who would be the last one standing in the end. So, Phoebe would hold off on her strong suit, keeping herself in motion.

Deadly serious, the Queen of Ashes showed her friend why combat fighting was not something to help her win, it was part of who she was. The very breath she breathed. Without her gifted eye, all Phoebe would have was herself and that is why the scale would be unbalanced between them and have a higher chance tipping in Phoebe’s favor. This was more than just a training session for her. This was her life.

Brenna Lancaster was not one to give up. Even as she and Phoebe traded blows, she kept coming back for more, desperate to prove herself. To Phoebe, to the teachers watching, to the whole fucking gym. Brenna wanted everyone here to remember exactly who she was.

As the two continued sparring, Professor Morgan and her colleagues kept their vantage point, watchful eyes looking down on the various matchups. She leaned over to Eliana, smirking ever so slightly. “One thing you all should know about Crestview kids: they don’t go down easy,” Rebecca said, a touch of pride in her tone.

And they didn’t. Five minutes turned into ten which eventually turned into twenty. They were drawing a crowd, even getting Damon to stop and watch. The dedication in these girls was admirable. If only more students were like this. Then again, a hero also needed to know their limits, which it seemed neither girls did. Or if they did, they were stubbornly trying to surpass them.

As lovely as their fighting was to watch, it was almost approaching seven which meant soon kids would start trickling in for the early morning gym class. “Okay. They had their fun, now it’s time for them to get out of my arena,” Bishop was quick to stand up, ready to restrain them apart, knowing how stubborn they could be.

Instead, Eliana stopped him by raising her hand and smiled, “I can take care of it.” Rising up from the bench, she turned to the Crestview team and concluded, “Thank you. This was fun, and it’s amazing to see your students at work. I hope they like me!”

“Oh Ellie, you’re one of the more bearable Academy teachers. I’m sure you’ll do just fine in the popularity contest. You might not get catcalled like your sister, but you care and that’s all these students need. Someone that cares,” Perry waved at the science professor, simultaneously bringing his drink to his lips. After a few more exchange words between teachers, Eliana was making her way to the arena, to the girls that were sparring.

As she watched them go at it, she took in every motion they made, every breath they took, and every wince of pain they showed from getting hit by their comrade. For most teachers, this would be hard to keep up with but for Eliana she could see this playing out and even knew how it ended, if no one cut in. She knew who would win, and how they would. Her perception, her adaptive mind, and her ability to sync her actions in time with other’s made her one of the harder Crownes to take down. Reality was, rarely was Eliana surprised and when she was, they were usually out of her control and out of the hands of time. Not even the Timekeeper could keep track of everything because some things simply ignored time. Man alone measures time. Man alone chimes the hour. And because of that, it’s men that fear their own internal clock, running out.

“Excuse me,” Eliana cleared her voice, trying to get Phoebe and Brenna’s attention. After another minute, she realized neither girl was paying attention to their surroundings. They had been fighting for so long that they no longer were fighting as well as they could, because even heroes tire out. Stepping into the line of fire, knowing exactly where the two girls would hit, Eliana crossed her arms and waited for their blows to go into her, or to see if they were smart enough to pull back.

Phoebe was the first one to notice the teacher and stopped her fist from going straight into Eliana’s face. Phoebe was surprised with how nonchalant and unexpressive the science teacher was, as if she knew neither would get a blow in even if they tried.

Whether or not Brenna could’ve stopped herself is something only Brenna will ever know. Her fist continued on its course, a jab meant for the stomach though it found only air. As quickly as Eliana had appeared, she had dodged Brenna’s attack, effortlessly throwing the girl off balance. Brenna, unprepared for the lack of connection, stumbled forward, just barely managing to keep her feet under her. Breathing heavy, Brenna straightened herself and brushed off her clothes, quickly reverting from a warrior to a queen.

“Where I’m from, Professor Lovelace, you don’t interrupt a fight unless you intend to join,” Brenna said, coyly toeing the line between playful and churlish.

“That’s cute,” Eliana politely smiled at the Ice Queen, who was as unoriginal as they came, committing to the stereotype. “Where I work, students can fight in the presence of a teacher and seeing how it’s almost,” She glanced at her wrist watch then back at Brenna, “Quarter after seven, your instructors will be going about their day, as should you. You’re more than welcome to sign up for another session. But for now, it’s time to go.” With her hands clasped together, Mrs. Lovelace surveyed both girls, waiting expectantly.

“Yes ma’am. Sorry… we got carried away,” Phoebe answered first, in hopes that Brenna did not sass out their Physics teacher. Knowing her friend, Brenna always wanted to have the last word. Sometimes, she caused more problems than not.

“No need to apologize! I have nothing against that. If anything it shows your dedication. But I’m just doing my job and Bishop needs his arena.”

“We’ll get out of your hair then,” Brenna said. Phoebe’s answer had called her to heel. Whatever indignation she might feel towards her professor, she shoved it aside for the moment, and played the part of the prim and proper girl that so many expected her to be.

The two girls stepped out of the ring, Brenna following Phoebe’s lead as they headed for the showers. “I don’t think I like her that much,” Brenna muttered to Phoebe. This couldn’t have been much of a surprise. There were very few people Brenna did like, and very few of them were people with any authority over her.

“Well you don’t need to like her, but you do need to pass her class,” Phoebe teased before hooking her sore and sweaty arm around Bre’s. “I’m proud of you. For a second, I thought you were going to spank me, but then I was like nah, the only person you’ll spank is your boytoy.”

Brenna smiled and shrugged. “Sometime’s he needs it.”

Nearing noon…


The girls followed up their showers with breakfast and books. One week at Crystal Peak had already earned them more assignments than free time. They had holed up inside the cafe, coffee and pastries scattered around textbooks and notes. Admittedly, they would’ve been further along in their work, but Brenna had spent the last thirty minutes ranting about her boytoy.

“It’s just like, what the fuck is ‘im busy’ supposed to mean? He’s busy? I’m fucking busy. You’re fucking busy. He’s just infuriating,” Brenna said, shaking her head as she began packing up her things. Regardless of how she might be expressing herself, it was obvious to most that she would be over this bump in the road sooner rather than later. Sometimes, the ice queen just liked to storm about. “Fuck him though, let’s go play nice with the silver spooners. I want to beat Cashmore at her own game.”

Phoebe sometimes wondered why Brenna wasted her energy on Blackwell. While Abe was brilliant, probably too much for his own good, he wasn’t the best when it came to romantic emotions and communication, let alone transferring his attention on anyone else that wasn’t himself, and his work. Then again, Pheebs didn’t know him like Brenna did. Maybe somewhere deep down, he cared for her friend as a lover. Why else would Bre date him? Unless he was good in another department but ew, Phoebe didn’t need to vomit right now.

“You like what you have with Athena?” Phoebe closed up her books, one being a leather journal for personal use. In this journal she had her thoughts and scribbles on the occult, with a section dedicated to her analysis on a couple of students that piqued her interest. When all her things were gathered, she turned her head sensing a familiar presence. A white raven. As she left the table behind, she lifted her wrist up for Milky “MK” Way to land on her. When MK settled herself, Pheebs gestured with her head for the bird to climb up her arm and rest on her shoulder.

“She’s a challenge, at least. She’s smarter than the rest of ‘em. Don’t know how smart it is to trust a telepath though,” Brenna said, moving her face with a practiced and perfected coolness. Brenna would’ve been lying if she said Athena didn’t intrigue her, but there were no lies between her and Phoebe.

With a simple conversation through their eyes, Phoebe mentally asked for MK to hold her thoughts, likely the latest gossip of Crystal Peak, before bringing her attention back to Bre and earnestly admitting, “I feel like you’re going to find your place here before me.” Douglas and Brenna got the soft version of Phoebe, they earned it. If there was one person that always had her bitchmode on, it was Brenna, she was the Ice Queen after all. With Phoebe, she only needed to activate her raging inferno when she was protecting something she believed in or those she loved. Those she felt responsible for. Other than that? People simply didn’t like approaching her in the halls. People didn’t trust her easily.

Maybe she was unapproachable, or maybe she gave off an energy that was foreboding. Dangerous. Maybe she was feared because people thought they’d get burned. Regardless of what it was, Pheebs knew this transition wouldn’t be easy. It took her most of her underclassmen years to get people to trust her at Crestview. Now it felt like she was back at square one, trying to regain trust, all because a rumor painted her to be the bad guy.

To be honest, for someone who usually carried herself with confidence, determination, and strength, Phoebe’s tone showed her buried anxiety. Would she be able to keep it together? Or would she be ripped apart at the seams? Even strong people needed support from time to time. After having sat in a conference room, with people she barely knew deciding her fate, and a science professor protecting her honor — the same science teacher that came in between her and Bre from sparring — Phoebe wondered if this was even worth it. Would she have enough energy to finish this school year? Was all this pain, suffering, and endless struggle going to amount to anything?

Her life was full of hardships and she wanted to keep going, she desperately needed to, but she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t tired. In addition to her exhaustion, the constant migraines, the sudden wash of negative energy, like depression but not really, and the endless thoughts from her hyperactive brain did not help. Phoebe knew where the moments of immense negativity came from, and it wasn’t from her, it was from the thing resting in her eye. She also knew at this point, her intelligence came with a price of never being satisfied, which meant she would compromise sleep if it meant she’d discover something new.

Her need to know surpassed every logical thought in her brain that told her to take care of herself. She hated it and yet she couldn’t stop. This was how she’s always been. This is how she’s survived this long. Still, Phoebe Masterson hoped her mind was playing games with her and that this new year wouldn’t be that stressful. That this year would actually be fun. She hoped, for once, she could catch a break or at least have something to look forward to. Instead, she played her role, as a leading figure at Crestview College, and continued to aim for the stars. That’s all she could do while so many people looked down on her. Aim for the stars. She had no other choice than to go high. If she didn’t, what would the board do to all these kids they did not believe in? What would the world do if she didn’t break this generational problem of people being treated less than because a piece of paper, or their family’s history deemed them unfit? What would happen if she didn’t fight?

Nothing.

Nothing would happen.

And that’s where the problem lies. That’s what she hated the most. That’s why she has to fight.
In DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME] → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME] → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

In DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME] → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
In DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME] → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Location: Training Center -> The Quad
Interactions: Will | Alyssa @Hey Im Jordan


“Will, seriously, can we take a break?” The voice of Matthew Cashmore rang out through the empty training arena, from his position on the concrete floor, the annoyance in his voice clear as day. He’d been on campus for hardly more than a week, and already his cousin was trying to kill him with training. He’d thought the trainers at Cashmore Manor were tough, but it turns out, Will had become their shining star since he’d gotten to Crystal Peak. Every afternoon since he’d arrived had been spent here, in the training center, getting his ass tossed around like a ragdoll. He was most certainly not loving it.

“That doesn’t sound very Cashmore of you,” Will responded, smirking as he adjusted his stance and prepared for another round. “I told you, these kids aren’t gonna take it easy on you, especially once they hear your last name. I’m doing you a favor.” Will could not have been less fazed. For him, training was as simple as eating, a mandatory part of his routine. In fact, the time he’d been spending with Matthew was easier than any of the training regimens he’d adopted for himself over the last four years. He’d have to get in some extra time to make up for it.

Matthew groaned and picked himself up off the floor, brushing off the shoulders of his training uniform, and putting himself into a fighter’s stance. Fists up, feet squared, mind ready. He could sense his cousin’s thoughts pushing at the edge of his mind, awaiting his call.

“You ready?” Will called out, flexing his fingers in anticipation.

Matthew shook his head. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

And with that, the fight began. Will watched as fifteen Matt’s appeared across the arena, jumping into action. He shook his head. “I told you to come up with a new technique,” he shouted, effortlessly throwing two of the illusions into the wall and watching as it faded back to nothing.

“I did!” Matthew’s voice came from every copy of himself all at once. Will looked around, noting that the Matthews he’d supposedly taken down, were back. “You thought about throwing them into the wall, so I made you think you did. Pretty cool, right?”

Will smirked. He was pleasantly surprised by his cousin’s ingenuity. Of course, it wasn’t going to stop him from winning, but then again, nothing Matthew threw at him would. This exercise wasn’t about letting Matthew win, it was about teaching him how to keep going when you’re completely outmatched.

The Matthews began circling Will, closing in like sharks on a wounded seal. They were identical, in looks, in movement, in technique. The only flaw was that they wouldn’t be able to touch him. This was a trick, meant to make him feel cornered. Oh fuck.

The moment the thought of being trapped crossed his mind, Matthew pulled it out, into the world. The concrete walls of the arena began closing in, forcing him into a very literal corner. The Matthews were gone now, replaced by the box he’d found himself in. A jab took him by surprise, catching him in the side, another came for the back of his head. He couldn’t see Matthew, but Matthew could still see him, and he was taking advantage of it.

Will grunted as a fist connected with his face, bursting through the wall then disappearing as quickly as it came. He shook his head, and cleared his mind, and then, he let it explode outward. Telekinetic force rippled out from him, and the walls that had surrounded him only moments before, flickered and faded as Matthew was sent rolling across the floor. Will clapped as his cousin groaned.

“I fucking hate it when you do that,” Matthew said, picking himself up once more.

“Most people do. Of course, if you had made those walls tangible, it would’ve been a lot harder.”

Matthew rolled his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if Will thought about anything besides getting stronger. “How many times am I gonna have to tell you people, the illusions don’t work like that. They’re just thoughts, I don’t even know what I’m gonna get half the time.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re underestimating yourself.” Will closed the space between them, fixing his cousin with a knowing look. “Trust me, Matt, I’ve seen what illusionists can do. Not to be too cheesy, but belief is half of the equation.”

“If I could, don’t you think I would’ve already?”

Will smiled. “I think, that you are just the tiniest bit afraid of what you can do,” Will said. “That’s normal though. I was scared of myself when I first got here, hell, I think it just means you’re on the right track. You should be cautious with your powers, but you don’t need to be afraid of them.”

Matthew stayed silent. It was easy for Will to say that. Will was perfect. It didn’t matter that he could throw a punch without even lifting a finger, he would never, ever, go bad. It was so far outside of the realm of possibility, Matthew couldn’t even comprehend what that reality looked like. Him though? He was the son of Alexander Cashmore, and maybe the world didn’t know what kind of man he was, but Matthew did. He knew it was the powers that made him that way, and he knew that his own would lead him down the same road. How could they not?

“Same time tomorrow?” Will said. Most days he was so wrapped up in training that social cues were lost on him, but he could tell when Matthew was over a conversation. This was certainly one of those times.

“Do I have a choice?”

“Sure you do. The choice between me, Athena, or Lyss. Who do you prefer?” Will smirked and cocked his head, already well aware of the answer.

“I hate you,” Matthew said, giving his cousin a weak punch to the shoulder before he headed for the showers.

“That’s the spirit!”



Matthew emerged from the Training Center, feeling sore and more than a little bit dejected. His first week at Crystal Peak left something to be desired. His closest friend was still his cousin, and people wouldn’t stop looking at him whenever he spoke. The Cashmore name was following him like a plague. Surely, he was not cut out for this.

Whether or not that was true though, he was here, and he didn’t see a way out. If he dropped out, his father would likely disown him, or worse. He’d probably rearrange his brain until he wanted to be here. At least right now he was himself.

Reluctantly, he made his way towards the quad. Matthew was not a social person, in any conception of the term. If he could’ve gotten away with spending the next four years alone, he would’ve leapt at the opportunity. Of course, his family would never allow that. Will and his father weren’t the only Cashmore’s trying to shape him. His sister had decided that he would be joining her band, because Matthew Cashmore didn’t get to make decisions for himself it seemed.

A piece of him wanted to believe that this was a friendly gesture from his sister. If it was Will, he wouldn’t have doubted it. His sister was many things though, and selfless wasn’t one of them. He figured there was something in this for her, and he also figured that she’d be a mythic bitch if he flaked on her. The least he could do is show up and be as unimpressive as usual.

When he’d passed through the Quad on his way to the training center, it had been something of a ghost town, save for the clubs setting up their stands. Now though, it pulsed with life, and thoughts. He could feel the surface thoughts of the crowd bearing down on him, and it took all his self control not to supplant their thoughts into reality. He stood on the outskirts of the crowd, too afraid of himself to let himself be enveloped by the throngs of people. He pulled out his phone and began texting his sister, possibly because he was a good, and honest brother, and possibly because he was a glutton for pain. Who knew?

To: Lyss
there are too many people here. do i have to come to this?
In DWS [SHELVED UNTIL BETTER TIME] → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Location: Clearview Street Residential Complex



To the uninitiated, virtual space could be somewhat intimidating, to say the least. The area was both limitless, yet confined, a world in which anything and everything was possible. To Douglas, it was perfectly comprehensible, another dimension made just for him. Here could be everywhere, anywhere, all at once.

Right now though, here was a pristine living room, furnished with leather couches, white fur rugs, and floor to ceiling windows that looked over the Manhattan skyline. Everything was tinged with a certain energy, the mark of virtual space, but it was not all that dissimilar from the place he’d once called home.

“Douglas, it is your move.” Sitting across from him, at a chess table, was his perso-assistant, Jocasta. Dark hair, cut perfectly straight, framed her face, where dark eyes sat, watching, seeing things even Douglas could not. Here she was not made of pixels and projected light, and her voice had no trace of digitalization. Here, she was flesh and blood. Well, simulated flesh and blood.

“Hmmm?” Douglas looked over from the window, where he’d been lost in the horizon. He had not seen that view in a long time. “Sorry,” Douglas’ eyes refocused on the board, hand hovering for a moment before moving his queen into position. “Check.”

“You are distracted. That is not like you.” Jocasta’s eyes locked onto Douglas’. She was more than just his assistant. She was a friend, a caregiver, a mother. Years with Douglas had led to a relationship that might’ve confused most people, if they’d known about it. To him, Jocasta was not just technology; she was a person. To Jocasta, Douglas was one of a handful of people that saw her as more than a collection of 1’s and 0’s.

The technopath shook his head. “It’s nothing. Just…thinking.”

“And you do not wish to share these thoughts?” Jocasta moved her king out of danger, eyes barely glancing down at the board.

Douglas chuckled. “You’re quite nosey, you know that?”

“You have told me that exactly seven times since we first met.” Jocasta smiled softly. “Is it about your mother?”

Douglas sighed. “Her visitation rights were denied. Again.” Douglas shook his head and clenched his fist. Some days, it felt like he’d never gotten a win, and he never would. “Apparently she’s just too ‘high-risk’ for anyone to see her, whatever the fuck that means. It’s not even about me it’s…”

“Your brother?” Jocasta filled in as Douglas trailed off.

He nodded. “He barely remembers her, y'know. Everything he knows about her is from letters, and who knows what makes it inside that place. He deserves to see his mom.”

“I do not have any ‘biological family’ to have taken from me, so I am afraid I can not fully relate to your experience . However, I do consider you to be part of my ‘found family,’ as humans call it.” Jocasta offered Doug a smile, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I would be sad if you were taken from me, and so I understand that you are sad about your mother being taken from you.”

Douglas did not like tears. He thought they were useless. Tears did nothing but fall. “Jocasta, I think we’re going to have to finish this game tomorrow.” He stood up from the chess table, and began walking towards the front door. Jocasta remained.

“Have I upset you?”

“No, no, I have training, and lunch with Phoebe and Brenna. It’s a busy day for Douglas Wolff.” Douglas did not know why he lied to her. He knew that she knew it was a lie, but he still did.

“I will save our game then.”

“Thank you, Jo,” the technopath said before walking out, the world fading into brilliant, blue light around him as he returned to his body. He was sitting at his desk, phone in front of him. Outside, the sun was well on its way to the peak of its arc. He stood from his chair, ignoring the clutter of his desk, and stepped towards his closet, rubbing the soreness from his neck, and steeling himself for the day ahead of him.

The rest of his room was free of mess. His bed was neatly made, his floor clear of debris, and his walls lined with abstract art and pictures of his life from over the years. A photo of him, Phoebe and Brenna, taken last year before Crestview had burned down, another of him and Abe in the Crystal Peak workshop. The one picture that his eyes avoided had been taken years ago, when he was still a child. His mother, his brother, and him, sat outside in Central Park, laughing.
He did not like to think of those years, or what he would do to bring them back. He did not like to think about the rift that had grown between him and Dylan since that night, or his father, or the way in which his mother so closely resembled Jocasta. He did not like to think about any of it.
In 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟ → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


Location: The Acropolis
Interactions: Xochi @Aewin, Eros @Danvers, & Comus @KZOMBI3



Apollo’s after-death omelettes had led the group of deities their separate ways. Apollo had helped Phobos put Melinoe to bed, before he scurried off himself to find some peace. The events of the day had exhausted him, drained him of his good humor. He desperately needed it returned to him. His feet carried him through labyrinthine halls, until he came upon an open room, luxuriously furnished and filled with instruments of all shapes and sizes.

A piano sat in the center, but the walls were lined with guitars and violins and trumpets, with sitars and bagpipes and banjos. There was hardly a space in the room where music could not be summoned, in all its brilliant intensity. Mortals he spoke to had often forgotten about this aspect of his being. They knew him as the God of the Sun, if they even knew him at all. It was rare that he met a classics major. Even now though, millenia after the fall, eons after he’d won the Chariot of the Sun from Helios, music was still one of his truest loves.

He sat down at the piano, releasing a deep sigh and letting the tension of the day fall off his bones. He did a good job of masking it with smiles and jests and tranquility, but he was not immune to tragedy. Not in the slightest. His slender fingers fell upon the ivory keys and melodies began to pour forth from the piano, and as they did, he thought of Olympus, and Zagreus, and betrayals big and small.

By nature, Apollo was not prone to worries or anxieties. It was rare that the gnawing jaws of fear clamped down upon him, but they were there now, chewing at his insides with jagged teeth. Was it war, or something else, something darker and more sinister? Two thousand years he had walked this Earth, and for two thousand years he had been free of fear. Why now, did he feel so cold?

He toyed around with the idea of calling his sister, picking her brain for information, but he suspected she would be of little use. He knew Artemis would want to keep the circle of information as controlled as possible. His father might be useful for a distraction, but he would have little in the way of information. Athena might be willing to share what she had discovered, but again, she’d probably be looking to keep her cards close to her vest. He couldn’t quite blame either of his sisters for not trusting him with secrets; he was all too prone to a loosening of lips when he drank, and he drank often.

Instead, he kept his fingers dancing across the piano, closing his eyes and letting the notes fill the room. He felt each one burning inside him, a flame that would reduce him to ashes were it not released. He wondered if other gods could feel their own divinity as he did in this moment. He was lost in it, drunk now, on his own artistry. Shivers ran down his arms, flesh raising in response to the melodies he magicked into being.

The song he played was an endless one, not unlike his life. Everytime he approached the end he looped back to the beginning, unwilling to sacrifice the comfort the music brought him. Here, in this room, safe in his cocoon of musical notes, he allowed himself to feel the pain of the day’s events. The bodies of Zagreus and Macaria flashed in his brain, and Melinoé’s scream echoed inside his head. He could not help but feel responsible, at least in some small fashion. It was like the past had come back to haunt him, to tease him with his previous failings. Perhaps Daphne had awoken from her oaken slumber too, and would arrive soon to taunt him.

He let the music keep his mind afloat, even as it drifted off into dark, uncharted waters. He knew no other way to cope, other than to push through the pain that threatened to pull him under. He would not, could not, share these moments with anyone else. He was the Sun, after all, and he could not dim while eyes were on him.

The melancholy musings of the God of Music were interrupted by the sharp clang of metal against metal, and his hands faltered on their journey across the keys. The music ceased, and his mood soured as he stood. Someone had ruined his meditation.

He didn’t know who to expect as he made his way towards the sound of voices. So many people, mortal and immortal, came through the party home, it was difficult to predict the next guest. He knew for a fact though, that he had not been expecting Comus to be the one disturbing his peace.

In the presence of guests, the Sun brightened. “We traded two of Hades’ children for you? This seems like a scam,” Apollo said, smirking as he pulled his deeply debauched niece in for a hug. “I’m assuming you have a very interesting story, one that I would like to hear after a shot or three.” His gaze traveled first to Xōchiquetzal, smiling his most charming grin, before falling on his nephew. “Xochi, always a pleasure. Eros, you’re more than welcome to enjoy whatever festivities unfold, but only if you admit that I’m a better archer than you.” His smile only grew bigger as he opened a cabinet that would earn anybody else a very serious intervention. It seemed as though the Sun had risen.
In 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟ → 2 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

𝖔 𝖓 𝖙 𝖍 𝖊 𝖈 𝖆 𝖘 𝖊
𝖔 𝖓 𝖙 𝖍 𝖊 𝖈 𝖆 𝖘 𝖊

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Olympic Club Rooftop → Bathroom
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Athena @metanoia, Anteros & Artemis @smarty0114
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Ares
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅


Anteros’ legs carried him through the ballroom, any care for decorum long since abandoned. Fear and anxiety threatened to drag him to a shivering, sobbing halt, but he pushed onwards, past the bloody crystals of glass and Zagreus and Macaria’s broken bodies. His father’s order echoed in his ears, driving him up the stairs and out into the Seattle rain. His eyes, wide with fear, fell on his aunt and before he could calm himself his words began spilling from his mouth. “Athena! Pothos she–well I went to find her after the–,” Anteros’ eyes flew towards the shattered skylight, filling in the blanks better than he ever could. “She’s missing is all, and my father and I found blood in the bathroom. He told me to show you,” Anteros said.

For the first few seconds before her nephew had started to speak, Athena had the entirety of her mind to politely (or polite for her) suggest he leave. The pure and simple fact of this being part of the crime scene aside, it was no place for a child and the fewer people who knew of the existence of the Norse weapon that rested behind where she stood, the better the chances of this not reaching ears that would damn everyone. In her vast mind, she tried to keep it from Anteros’ view, but then as he spoke about his sister, who had gone missing, she understood the severity of what was happening.

Closing her eyes, she centered and realigned her priorities. There was a lot happening, but family was family. “It’s going to be okay, Anteros. Take a deep breath, okay?” She approached him. Athena had nothing but adoration for her nephew. Ares was a pain at anyone’s side, but every once in a while, even he could do the right thing and sending his son to her side was the right thing. She placed a hand on his shoulder, keeping it there and looking at him until she knew he had a handle on his emotions. He had every right to be worried and fearful of Pothos’ whereabouts, but carrying on with a clear head would help their chances of finding her. “Take me to where you and Ares found the blood. Can you do that, Anteros?” She asked, still with a supportive hand on her nephew’s shoulder.

Anteros nodded, shaky but still helpful, at least for now. He turned and led Athena back down the stairs, to the bathroom where the spots of blood were already beginning to dry. He pointed to the now empty space on the floor, where the lapel pin had rested. “There was a pin there. It looked like an anvil or something. I’d show it to you, but my dad took it. I think he went looking for Hephaestus,” Anteros said, shaking his head.

Athena scanned the room. From the stalls to the sink, she could see there was some sign of a struggle. A struggle, if she were to make an educated just based off what she saw, wasn’t entirely one-sided. Not at all unsurprising. There was no doubt in her mind, which had been balancing many theories as it is, that Pothos (if it was indeed her blood) wouldn’t go without a fight. She took pride in that and looked at her nephew.

An anvil? It certainly would point to Hephaestus. Just the thought of him made her almost as full of ire as Ares. She wondered if Ares came to the same conclusion she was about to: that maybe that troll had something to do with this. But why Pothos? What could he want with her? And if he wasn’t, Athena had a theory that maybe somebody might be setting him up. No matter which it was, one thing that was absolute was that Pothos was missing and Hephaestus may or may not have a hand in it. “Do you happen to know where Ares would go? To find Hephaestus, I mean.” Athena asked, her mind churning as well. The irony of this all was how she and Artemis were both talking about Hephaestus and where he was. He wasn’t at the festival, or at least not that neither Athena nor Artemis were made aware of. If that was his pin and he was here, then the next thing she had to figure out, in addition to the crime scene, was to find her brother.

“He didn’t. He just said he was going to pay him a visit, and he told me to tell you he’d speak with you later.” Anteros shook his head. “You know my father. Act first, explain later.” His hands reached up to run through his hair, stopping midway and pulling at the waves. The pain grounded him, but it did not make him feel any better. He was a failure, useless in the face of whoever had come for his sister. If they could not find Pothos… well, he didn’t know what he would do. He could not imagine a world without his sister in it, and now…now he was alone. “This is my fault. I should’ve been with her. I could’ve helped her,” Anteros mumbled, his voice cracking with pain and grief.

She looked at her nephew. His love for his sister and the pain he was going through, particularly when it came to not knowing whether she lived or if she would join the Death Children, she felt his pain. She felt it to the point where she tried to hide how angry she was at whoever did this. She was not Ares and would not lose herself to it, but this was family. Calm and collected or not, Athena was personally attached. Above everything else, though, Anteros was one of the sweetest of her nieces and nephews, the one who remained untainted by the cruelty of the world. Untainted by the vulgarity and horrors things like death and kidnappings bring out in the average mortal, much less gods.

She went closer to her nephew, in a showing of affection that many associate with Athena anyway but not in a public sense. She held her nephew in an embrace, making sure he knew he wasn’t alone. “Listen to me: you are not to blame for this, Anteros. The only blame that should be cast is on the person who has Pothos.” When she felt certain enough that he understood, she let him free of the embrace and looked at him. “I promise you, we will find this person. We’ll find them and bring them to justice and return Pothos to her family.”

Anteros nodded, tears flowing freely from his eyes. He wiped them from his cheeks, breathing deeply before saying, “Thank you,” and trying his best to return to the stoic and steely look his father had mastered so well. He did not capture it quite as well. “I just–I need her to be okay. To be alive."

“She will be. I promise--”

Their conversation was halted by a gentle cough from the doorway. Anteros turned to see Artemis, leaning against the doorframe, still graceful in the face of tragedy. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, eyes flicking across the bathroom. Her eyes betrayed the questions she so clearly wanted to ask, but she held them for a more opportune time. “Hati wanted me to keep you in the loop. He’s going to find Odin, to ask about the sword.”

Athena’s observative eyes went from Anteros to Artemis. “It’s rare that the wolf has good ideas, but this might be one of those rare instances.” The relationship that Athena had with the bounty hunter had never been positive. To her, he wasn’t a real investigator -- not like herself and Heimdall. But these were different times brought on by circumstances nobody could have ever predicted. Hati going to see Odin was a smart idea. If anyone would know about that sword which was of Norse origin, it might be the Alfather. “Hopefully this sheds some light.” She looked around and let out a small sigh.

Athena’s eyes fell on her nephew and she smiled at him. “Anteros, you needn’t worry. We will find your sister and if someone took her, we will bring them to justice!”

Anteros looked between his aunts and offered up a weak smile. Despite the hole left inside him, he appreciated their words. He dug deep, for the resoluteness his father seemed to wear so effortlessly, and wiped the tears from his eyes. “I want to help. With the investigation, I mean. I don’t have anything else to do anyways, I need something to distract me. I can catch up with Hati, and keep you guys updated. It beats sitting around my apartment and waiting for a phone call.” He neglected to add that the wolf was one of the only people he had any desire to speak with at the moment. Hati would know what to say, he trusted that much.

As much as Athena wanted to decline her nephew’s help only because she was afraid he’d only get in the way, the truth of the matter was they were shorthanded. Only a few people knew exactly what was going on. But if he was insistent on it, who would she be if she told him no after seeing that look of renewed light in his eyes? There was a determination that made the Goddess of Wisdom smile. “Very well then. Go to Hati, Anteros. You have our numbers if there are any updates.” She gave him a nod and a quick hug. Athena wasn’t typically this outwardly affectionate, but she was genuinely worried for her nephew. “And please be careful and safe. If you sense any danger, you call me immediately. Am I clear, Anteros?”

“Of course,” Anteros said, “thank you.” He nodded at Athena, then Artemis, before exiting the way he’d come, hands already fishing for his phone.

When Anteros left and Athena was left with Artemis, she turned her attention back on the crime scene in the bathroom. “This is a mess, Artemis. Hades and Persephone’s children are dead and now Pothos is missing. Anteros came to me and found me and this was the last place she was last seen.” Athena reached into her clutch, which had been snug inside her dress this entire time. She pulled out two things: a personal CSI kit that included one pair of gloves and a swab. She put on both gloves, removed the swab from the small container it was in, and went over to where she saw the most blood. Stroking the small patch of blood, she placed it back into the kit and looked at Artemis as she stood. “He also told me our brother found a pin. One that was shaped with an Anvil.” She would admit, looking troubled as she thought what that could mean. “I suppose that sheds some light on our conversation earlier, doesn’t it?”

“It certainly adds a new facet to all of this,” Artemis said, punctuating her words with a sigh. “If Ares knows about this, then it means he’s out for blood. If this is a war, that could be helpful. It’s what he’s built for after all. If this is something else though…I worry he will break something that can not be easily fixed.” The huntress shook her head. “I can have my girls keep an eye out for Pothos. If Hephaestus has her, it’ll hopefully slow him down. Make him easier to trace.” Leaning against the tiled walls, Artemis looked at her sister with her usual brand of stoicism. If this day was flustering her, it was hardly apparent. “You trust Heimdall?”

Athena thought about Artemis’ question. Heimdal was her partner. Whether she was on the battlefield or protecting and serving the city of Seattle, one thing Athena has always known to be absolute was whoever your right hand and left hand were, they were to be trusted. Heimdall was an honorable God. Recent events put a small doubt in the back of her mind (among everything else she was balancing), that didn’t change. “Heimdall is my partner. He has had my six for as long as we’ve been partners. We can trust him. I imagine, much like Hati and all of us in the know, he wouldn’t want a war to break out either.” Athena had worry in her voice but not because of Heimdall specifically. It was about Ares and his headstart. It was Pothos missing, and the blood. It was Hephaestus. So many pieces were spread across the puzzle board and Athena had no way of knowing what connected to what.

Artemis nodded. “Might be time to bring him in,” she said. “Have him check camera footage and test that blood. I’ve got an idea of who might know where Hephaestus’ hidey hole is, but I don’t think I can be trusted to go alone.” Artemis stretched her hand out in front of her, examining her nails like this was just another Tuesday. “Let’s be honest, Hera and I alone together is a disaster waiting to happen.”
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