Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by Fabricant451
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Fabricant451 Queen of Hearts

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𝒟𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝑀𝑒 𝐼𝓃





CW: Self Harm

What would you rather do: play the lottery for twenty million dollars or be given two million dollars to stand on the roof holding a metal rod in a lightning storm? Most people would pick the lottery and they can't exactly be faulted for anything other than playing it safe. The only danger in playing the lottery is the amount of pocket money it costs to buy a ticket. But what if I told you the odds of getting struck by lightning even with a metal rod in your hand was 1 in 15,300? Changes things, doesn't it? Would you do it? The odds of winning the lottery are 1 in 302,575,350. You don't need to be a mathematician or a statistician to know you have higher odds of getting struck by lightning than you do winning the lottery. By those odds you're more likely to get struck by lightning 250 different times than you are to win the lottery once. More people die every year from car accidents than lightning strikes, but you don't see people refusing to drive.

Knowing all that...what would you rather do?


Lydia Economos gazed at the blade of a pocket knife shining with a dull sheen on the onyx grip. They'd been staring at the knife for an eternity - five minutes to be exact - to the point where they could identify exactly how many ridges made up the blade from tip to bottom and back again. There was something in Lydia's gaze that suggested a deep connection with the knife, as if they were trying to communicate with it, to tell it some deep message that would only be understood between the pair of them. Lydia and knife. Knife and Lydia. Symbiosis. And then with a flick of their eyes downward, the knife was in midair freefall, Lydia's grip leaving the hilt for a brief moment before returning, now closing their fingers around the hilt like a vise; using the same momentum and speed, the knife descended downward like a snake snapping at its victim.

Stab. The knife hit the cherrywood top that made up part of Lydia's desk. The serrated edges were mere centimeters away from piercing Lydia's flesh, specifically the fingers on their right hand which were spread apart and laid flat on the desk. Behind Lydia there was a window overlooking the city below like they were a villain in an action movie making a gesture how the city was in the palm of their hands. Far from it, though; Lydia just liked the view. It reminded them that for all that had been lost, they were still here. For better. For worse.

Stab. The knife stabbed between index and middle, coming even closer to piercing skin but fortunately cutting only air and poking into the desk. Outside of Lydia's office there were thousands of people shoving quarters into machines and pulling a lever. There were hundreds exchanging money for chips, and hundreds more deciding if they should hit, stay, call, raise, or fold. On a good day, The Trojan Horse made just shy of two million dollars a day and today was looking like a good day.

Stab. This time the knife was between middle and ring but there was plenty of room left. Not even close. The Trojan Horse employed a staff just shy of nine thousand. Once upon a time Lydia knew them all by name but that was a lifetime ago. Some were fired. Some quit. Some were dead. Some were poached. It's hard to say goodbye when after a while every face looks the same. It's hard to care when you're thirty six going on thousands. Lydia could blink and another staff member hands in their resignation. Lydia could cough and four more take the place. Lydia could turn around and it's ten years later.

Stab. Lydia saw red. Just a dot. A speck. Their pinky was bleeding. That tended to happen when a knife sliced a thin cut on the side of a finger. Tonight in the theater there was a performance from some rock band on tour. Tickets sold out eons ago - months - and there would be increased security detail to deal with scalpers and people trying to get in for free. Lydia wasn't a fan. They liked music well enough, just that this particular band traded more on sex appeal than musical ability. Perhaps, they think, mother was right. Perhaps it always boils down to sex.

Stab. More red drips onto the desk but Lydia doesn't flinch. They watch. Curious. Is it normal to feel no pain? Or has this finger been cut so many times that it no longer registers? The head chef at the on-site restaurant, Attica's Attic, is having a baby. Specifically he and his husband's surrogate is. There was a big fuss some time back because Lydia hired an openly gay chef to a prestige restaurant which apparently is news for some people. Lydia didn't care about the man's sex life. They cared that he could make a damn good plate of saganaki. The secret was in the olive oil. Of course it was. It was a Grecian dish.

Stab. The knife stabs into a divet groove that had been there a while now, a constant reminder that for as often as Lydia plays this game, they never seem to stab the middle finger. There are hundreds of emails and calls they need to be making, but no matter how many they respond to, there will always be hundreds waiting. Lydia's mind wanders whenever the specter of responsibility looms large. They chose this career. They could've done anything. Followed in father's footsteps. Gone to sleep with mother - not like that - though they weren't so sure that was a choice and thinking on it, they did sort of miss the way mother talked of her many dalliances. Absence and fondness so often go hand in hand.

Stab. This one hurt most of all. Lydia took their hand off the hilt of the knife and saw that it didn't fall down. How could it, when the blade was sticking out of Lydia's index finger. Not deep enough to pin it to the table, nor wide enough to be an amputation. But just enough that they could register that it hurt. Stung. Just enough to feel something, even for a maddening fraction of a second. Would the feeling return if they pulled it out? Would it be so bad if they pushed it in just a little more? Felt the numbing sensation of blade on bone? Is this what addicts felt? The same addicts that gave money to Lydia's house? The people who get a brief rush of something when the lights flash and the sound of coins hitting the tray plays louder and sweeter than any song? Lydia wasn't so different from those people. On the surface.

You're probably wondering why someone would willingly leave a knife in their finger. Or maybe you think it's a little dramatic. Maybe you're right. Every day this knife plays five finger fillet and every day it hits a different assortment of fingers. Some days it's one. Others it's none. Never the same combination two days in a row. Do you know the odds of that? Do you want to know? Does it matter? You might be wondering if playing this game is worth it. To that I ask you: is anything? Worth is what we make it. To some, it's worth it to cancel plans last minute because a nap is preferable to spending time with people. To some, it's worth it to order food and pay more rather than cook it themselves. Worth is an arbitrary value humans assign to things. What makes a virgin worth more than a whore? A cow more than a pig? One life over many?

The door to Lydia's office opened suddenly and Lydia's eyes shifted from the knife still lodged in their finger to that of a silver haired, suit wearing gentleman with an earpiece. Josh. Or was it Jacob? Jason? Doesn't matter. Pit boss. Going on...twenty...thirty years now? Not at the Trojan, he's been here for 8. I poached him from a rival. Still under the impression that he has a chance to make an honest person of me.

"Ma'am, there's....are you alright?" Joel seemed worried about the fact that his boss had a knife sticking out of her finger. Granted, it wasn't a big knife, but when it came to a knife being stabbed in someone, did size truly matter? The last time he was in here, Lydia was holding her hand over a lighter. The palm of her hand was black by that point but she didn't even seem to care. That was the first time he had truly considered retirement, but all he would have to show for it were his fish at home.

"Never better." Lydia pulled the knife from their finger without breaking eye contact with Joel. Blood continued to drip from the fingers they had previously nicked but if it bothered her, she didn't show it, instead staring towards the pit boss as if daring him to explain why he inerrupted.

"....'Kay." Retirement was definitely looking like the best option. "There's a cheater down at the tables. Figured you -" Lydia was out of her seat as soon as she heard the word cheater. She was pushing past Joel as if he were a prop. "Right, well, he's at table sixteen." Joel shook his head as he was alone in Lydia's office. "God, I miss mob casinos."

Out on the floor of the Trojan Horse, the sights and sounds were intoxicating. Slot machines whirring and spinning. The background music playing over the speaker systems. People ordering drinks. Dealers and gamblers exchanging words. People at the craps table being happy...or sad. The entire spectrum of human life could be found in the halls of the Trojan Horse. And numb to it all was Lydia Economos, marching down the carpeted floor with heels clacking along, fingers bleeding, and expression neutral as can be.

You ever wonder why casinos play music that seems like it fell out of America in the prohibition era? It's because people want to believe they're in a classy establishment. It's an illusion. There's nothing classy about spending money on the chance of winning. But play a little crooning music written by dead people and everyone will assume they're punching above their economic class. It's also why the drinks are free. Drunk people are more likely to make dumb decisions. I never said casinos were moral. But they do make a lot of money.

The pit boss told me there was a cheater and I'm inclined to believe him. There's always people who think they can game the system. Count cards. Devise some sort of method to rig the bet and line their pockets. Part of me respects it. The other part realizes it comes from a place of desperation and arrogance. No one can rig chance. I would know.


It was obvious who the cheater was for no reason other than there was a crowd around the poker table. The dealer, a cute red head who was barely six months into the job, was trying to keep cool but the sweat rolling down their face made it clear that that was a difficult ask. Lydia observed a moment. The cheater in question looked fairly middle aged, strawberry hair, and a smug smirk that said enough about him - he craved attention, loved knowing that he was beating the unbeatable system.

"Mind if I deal in?" Lydia tapped the dealer on the shoulder and a sigh of relief washed over the dealer's face as they stepped away from the table.

"What an honor. The owner." The cheater couldn't contain the arrogance in his voice. "Nothing more important to do?"

"I take cheaters very seriously." There was an audible call of 'ohhhhh' in the air and Lydia could see the cheater's face twitch. "You don't have to say anything. But let's make it interesting."

The way his face twitched means one thing: he knows that he's been found out and he knows the power is in my hands now. He's much more likely to make a mistake in trying to swing things back to his favor. Just from that little twitch I know exactly the kind of man he is. And I have him right where I want him.

"One hand. Best hand wins. If I win, you're banned for a year. If you win, you carry on as you were." Despite what happens in mortal media, we don't pull cheaters to a back room and beat the shit out of them, as much as we might like to. It's not technically illegal. Frowned upon? Yes. But not illegal. Every casino has a list of names and faces of 'undesireables' that have been caught or suspected of cheating. I don't care if someone wants to cheat, to rig the odds in their favor. That's just human nature.

The cards were shuffled and two were dealt to Lydia and the cheater. Lydia looked at her cards, her face as neutral as ever. In all the world there was hardly a better poker face. No one had ever been able to read her and she knew this cheater wouldn't be the first. The cheater looked at his cards and twitched his head to the left. I've got nothing, but he's got a tell so I've got more leverage. There's no point in dealing in percentages and probabilities before the first cards enter the flop.

Three cards were dealt to the middle. Two red. One black. Lydia didn't check her hand again, but the cheater did. He didn't tilt his head this time, but he checked his hand a third time and the corners of his lip twitched as if trying to smile. He's got something. Base assumption is a pair, at least. The way he checked his cards twice in succession means he's relying on the turn to truly make his hand. If he was cheating, he wouldn't need to know the number of the turn, just the suite. A flush. That's the likely play. Two red, one black, if he's going for a flush and needs the turn then he has one black in his hand.

The fourth card is dealt to the middle. Red. Lydia again doesn't look at her cards and neither does the cheater, who tilts his head to the left but keeps his grin wide. "Should we just call it now? You can't beat me now." Lydia's response was a simple shrug and the fifth and final card, the river, was dealt. Black. The cheater blinked and looked at his hand again, his twitching smile fading, replaced by rapid blinking.

If he were playing any other person, he would've won. Lydia flipped over her hand. "Straight flush beats a straight."

"How did...I haven't turned my.."

"The river. You expected it to be your ace, no pun intended, because you play the probability angle. Problem is, you forgot to account for one thing. The house always wins." Lydia unbuttoned the arm of her shirt, and cards fell forth, dropping to the table like paper raindrops.

"You..."

"Cheated? Takes one, doesn't it. See you in twelve months." Lydia snapped her fingers and two burly men appeared as if from nowhere behind the cheater. They didn't put a hand on his shoulder, that was a lawsuit, but they did clear their throats and beckon him to follow them. The only thing missing was applause. "Free appetizers, all of you!" There it was. The applause. The sounds. Everything back to normal.

I didn't cheat, but I've been in this world long enough to know people love a show. Some of them probably think this means dealers cheat, but that won't stop them. They're at a casino. They've made their choice. Distracting them with free stuff makes them forget about potential rigged games. Same as it ever was. Shame, though. I wanted to lose. By all accounts that last card should've been in his favor. But then...I'm me.

So let me ask you something. Would you rather play the lottery for twenty million dollars or throw your money away?





Tyche saw it but she didn't believe it. Corpses. Godly corpses. As if fallen from Olympus itself. Her eyes were glued to the scene. Mind racing. Wondering how it happened. Who did it. What it took. How. How. How. Why them. A million questions all twisting and turning to the same inevitable conclusion. Jealousy. She looked at the drink in her hand, the champagne flute, and her fingers were shaking. The glass was in danger of shattering in her grip but an elbow to the side brought her out of the reverie.

"Some party, right? Better than last year."

"Bad luck. That's all it is."

Tyche stepped away from the scene, leaving the room to make for the outside. To get some air. To get away from the grisly scene. To...process. A million more questions swirling. Bad luck. Just a bit of bad luck. Just some luck.

Some people have all of it.


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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by KZOMBI3
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KZOMBI3 thuggy-lewd-dere

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𝖗 𝖊 𝖆 𝖜 𝖆 𝖐 𝖊 𝖓
𝖗 𝖊 𝖆 𝖜 𝖆 𝖐 𝖊 𝖓

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. ???
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Coco
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬.



Steam. But it was cold, almost freezing. Dry even. She remembers it coating her skin like a second layer, a dusting across her frame, light enough to not be seen but heavy enough to feel. There wasn't a lot that she knew of the situation, just that it happened. Whatever it was. What she did know however, was that the voices in the dark weren't accompanying her anymore. Rather, they weren't as loud.

As soon as she was able to open her eyes once more from her confines in that cell, she was greeted with the night sky. No more a blurry, metal grated ground she had crawled along instead replaced with clear skies and twinkling stars, winking as if they knew something she didn't. It was pleasant. For a moment. Holding her hands out above her she examined them, the smal cuts and bruises there, the blood from her fingernails dried and caked with mud. Comus didn't think of anything. There was no need to, not when she hadn't been thinking for the better part of a millennia. All was well. Until the voices came back, speaking in hushed tones in a language that wasn't familiar to her ears. The dewy grass beneath her drenched her back and she felt almost sticky. It wasn't the most comfortable of feelings. But it wasn't the worst either. Comus was just glad to feel something aside from utter nothingness again.

Turning her head this way and that she was able to ascertain that she was in a field of some kind. A public one at that, as she took notice of a couple entangled in each other during a late night dalliance not even fifteen meters from where she lay, stark naked as they were. 'The voices... she mused as she realized the internal voices were just of these mortals caught in the act of passion.

A wicked smile found a home on her face as she rolled to a sitting position and walked straight out of the thin bushes separating them - flagging down those same mortals. They jumped apart from one another initially before clinging tightly back again, anything to protect themselves and prevent their bodies from being under a watchful eye. A scream escaped the female before silent tears too their place on her face. Both of them clearly shocked and surprised and taking in the sight of this woman covered in what looked to be dried mud and something they couldn't tell without getting closer. And they did not want to get closer. Eyes wide and manic under the remaining glow of the moon Comus approached them with a stagger, half out of show the rest from not using her legs for such a long time.Χαίρετε. Θέλετε να παίξετε?~?"

They ran, screaming, dropping items as they fled and Comus found herself picking up and sifting through them in an attempt to find what was useful and what was not. In the end the daughter of Dionysus pulled the articles of clothing up and over her head, covering her body as best as these pieces of fabric could and began on her way. Not knowing anything about the world around her gave her a high that she hadn't felt in a long while. It was new and ripe for her, like a blank canvas ready for an artist's first brushstroke.

Only Coco was itching to make a bigger splash.

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Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by smarty0114
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smarty0114 Human

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Location: The Olympic Club Bathroom
Interactions: Anteros and Ares
Mentions: Athena
A @smarty0114 and @Legion020 collab




Zagreus and Macaria lay atop shattered glass, blood leaking from wounds that would not heal, and all that Anteros could think about was his sister. He looked up from the bodies, expecting to meet her gaze, and when their eyes did not lock his stomach sank. Where was she? He pushed through the crowd, gently at first, then rougher. With every moment that passed he felt his desperation grow. She was not in the crowd, but why? She would not have hid, that was not Pothos at all.

He burst forth from the throng of people and began moving towards the other rooms of the first floor. The kitchen was filled with frightened and confused mortals, unprepared for the chaos that had erupted in the ballroom. The lounge was empty, barely touched. The bathroom felt like a last resort.

Until his foot landed upon the golden apple he’d watched Hera hang around his sister’s neck. He knelt down and picked up the pendant, closing his fist around it and closing his eyes. On any other day, at any other party, he might’ve been able to calm the sea of emotions that began to churn inside him, but now? After two bodies had fallen from the ceiling? He feared the worst.

Anteros’ desperation was replaced by purpose, as his strides carried him back into the ballroom. Athena and Hera had tried their best to calm the gathered gods, to mixed results. The man he was looking for was not scared though. Ares did not get scared, Anteros knew that well. His father would solve this, he would have to. Whatever his thoughts might be about his children, Anteros knew how seriously he took his honor. This was more than a move against Pothos, it was a move against Ares and Aphrodite both.

Like the Minotaur raging through the Labyrinth, Anteros intercepted Ares as he moved towards Athena, placing his slender hand firmly against his father’s chest, and letting the pendant hang between them. “This,” Anteros said, “is Pothos’. Grandmother gave it to her earlier. She is missing, and you need to find her.” Anteros had imagined their reunion to be filled with clever jabs on his part, but he did not have the time. His sister was missing, and he would not endanger her to prove something to his father. Even as his hands trembled with rage and the red hot anger inside threatened to spill out, he grit his teeth and pushed through. For Pothos.

Ares looked his son in the eyes. Probably for the first time in decades. His eyes darted towards the pendant that Anteros was holding up, then towards Hera, then back to Anteros himself. The situation became clear in an instant. He looked towards Hades. I’m sorry uncle. He thought to himself. I have my own child to save. It was a harsh thought, but a necessary one. In truth Ares could do nothing for Hades right now but he could save his own daughter. All his focus – which was spread out in the entire room to mark off who was there and thus couldn’t have slain the two Greek deities – narrowed down. All of it fell upon Anteros.

He took the pendant with one hand, then put the other on his son’s shaking hand. It was gently, but it was firmly. “Calm down.” Ares said. His tone was flat and constant. It conveyed no rage. Poor Anteros, in the end he really was his father’s son. “Show me where you found it.”

Anteros nodded, removing his now still hand and silently moving towards the bathroom. When they arrived, Ant propped open the door, and pointed at the spot just near the entrance where he’d found the pendant. “It was just here, on the floor. I don’t- His words fell off as he took in the scene with new eyes, ones not clouded with desperation.

The bathroom had seen a fight, that much was clear. The mirror had been shattered, and a painting on one wall had been knocked askew. He could see drops of blood on the ivory tile, and he turned his gaze on his father, his eyes renewed with fear. “I didn’t even see her come in here. I don’t–I don’t know where she is.” He had never had to truly fear for Pothos. His stomach flipped over itself. He could not fathom his life without his sister.

Ares, meanwhile, took a deep breath. Shock and confusion were the enemy in a situation like this. He unbuttoned his vest as he looked over the scene. His eyes went from the broken mirror to the blood drops on the ground. Ares had been in his own fair share of bathroom fights. There were telltale signs showing him the flow of the battle. Pothos was attacked, probably from behind. For a second the god of war felt a sense of short-lived pride. Most of his children took after their mother so much. Yet Pothos fought.

He crouched down to look at the blood droplets. They were still liquid and fresh. Whatever happened here, it happened recently. He hoped that Athena was as pragmatic as she so often claimed to be. The blood would have to be analyzed.

The scene spoke of a fight but Ares wanted more. He ignored the lamentions of his son behind him. The boy was already losing himself to panic. He wouldn’t be of much more help now. It was an old, mortal trick he used now to observe the scene. When you’re expecting nothing, that which doesn’t belong easily jumps out. Like the glint of a metallic object a bit further away. He reached for it. It was a cufflink shaped like an anvil. There was really only one god who wore those. “What have you been up to, brother?” He put the cufflink and Pothos’ necklace in his pocket.

Then he turned toward Antheros and looked him straight in the eyes. He took the boy by his arms, firmly yet not painfully. “Listen to me boy. You will walk out of here and tell Athena to look at this. She needs to examine the blood. Tell her that I will talk to her this night. Do you understand?”

Anteros nodded, the shock not yet faded from his face. “What are you going to do?” These words at least, came out calmer than they might once have. He’d always been averse to his father’s bloodlust, the ease with which he embraced violence. Now though, he wished he had more of that animalistic nature inside him. If his father was a boar then he was a dove, and doves were not suited for war. Whoever had taken his sister needed to pay though. He wondered for a moment if a dove could survive the coming days. He thought not.

“I’m going to pay my dear brother a visit.” Athena would probably quickly realize where he would be going to. At least, if Anteros would be able to keep himself together for long enough to relay the message. He wasn’t the man for this. Few of his children were. He would need more. After that he prayed someone would catch him.

“Anteros.” He said, holding his boy firmly by the arms still. “Look at me. I will find her, I will find Pothos.” Alive or dead. And if he found her dead, then the world would have another enraged Greek god to handle. “Now go.” He released his son and motioned towards the door. Just to make sure the boy wouldn’t stay frozen in the bathroom.

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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Aewin
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Aewin Chomp!

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𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐲?

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝐔𝐖 𝐌𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Isabel, Ares @Legion02 & Sekhmet @Aewin



Perhaps it truly had been a mistake to attend the luncheon.

Sweet Macaria, her only ally in a disturbed world. The only Goddess that Sekhmet bonded with on another, a deeper level. The closest thing to a best friend the Egyptian goddess had. Had. Macaria, who had been kind and accepting, the one who supported Sekhmet through her darkest years, now no longer counted amongst the living.

Had.

Tearing her eyes from Macaria to gaze upon the second body hurt just as much. Whispers around her named him Zagreus, but she only knew him as another forgotten name; as the beautiful mortal with so much life in him. Sekhmet choked on her spit, climbing from her seat beside Thor to stagger outside. The smell of blood was too much; it called to her.

She knew she couldn’t remain at the festival any longer in this state. Somehow Sekhmet managed to take her leave, practically throwing herself into her car in her haste to get away from the scene. As she pulled out, her hand dipped into her pocket to pull out her phone and ring the only number that frequented her call history besides Macaria.

The phone rang twice before she heard a familiar voice through the line - a sweet nurse on phone duty sounding infinitely as tired as Sekhmet felt. “I’m going to be early for my shift. I’m already on the way.” She was met with a pause and shuffling of paper on the other line.

“But you still have six hours-”

“Don’t care, I’ll work for free if I have to. Just get ready for the handover in thirty.” Sekhmet clicked the hangup button before tossing the device to the back seat. Any arguments the nurse would have could wait till she arrived. Not that it mattered, there was always a shortage of help in the wards. Nobody would complain about having the extra hand.

The immediate distraction that driving to work provided was welcome. Sekhmet parked in her usual bay before pulling out a fresh set of clothes. The last thing she needed was for people to question the club attire in the staff room.

When Sekhmet finally arrived at the emergency unit, she felt her grief go numb as though someone else was controlling her. She checked the nurse’s station for the list of active cases, anticipating her first case of the shift to be the one to make her forget the events of the day.

Time passed as it always did. People came and left, one way or another.

At night the paramedics rolled in another victim into Sekhmet’s emergency unit. There was no real haste to it. The wound was patched and the victim wouldn’t be bleeding out any time soon. It was a simple stab wound. The victim herself wasn’t too thrilled about that too. She was just frowning as the gurney she was on was wheeled in.

“Female, 27, stabbed in the left thigh with glass. No shards from what we could see. Hasn’t consumed alcohol or drugs. Allegedly.” One of the paramedics said as he passed Sekhmet and handed her the quick notes they had taken. It was mostly about her physical condition and status. She was a remarkably healthy woman.

“I haven’t!” Isabel was quick to retort. The paramedics didn’t acknowledge her complaints as they rolled her into one of the rooms.

Before Sekhmet could get into the room the paramedic quickly stopped her. “She’s an angry one.” He warned.

“She won’t be the first or only in this ward,” Sekhmet deadpanned. She took the notes and gave it a cursory glance but most of her attention was on the woman in front of her. The stab wound had been dealt with by the paramedics, but they couldn’t take any risks. Even the slightest nick to the femoral artery would spell a bloody end for the mortal.

The paramedics left the women in the ward, so Sekhmet started her usual routine. “I need to follow standard procedure, need to make sure you’re not dying.” Sekhmet warned. “You’ll need an MRI scan to see if there is any damage to your muscle tissue, and some blood tests to ensure there are no internal bleeds. But first…” The notes mentioned a regular blood pressure but things could change very quickly at the wards. Luckily the patient - Isabel Markov according to the notes - hadn’t been stitched prior to admission, making things slightly easier. “Can you tell me if you are hurting anywhere else?”

“Did you just really ask me that?” Isabel said with a raised eyebrow but she then quickly let out a sigh and fell back into the bed she was placed on. “My leg hurts like hell-“ She had refused any painkillers in the ambulance. “-but otherwise I’m feeling perfectly fine. Despite what those guys seemed to insinuate I really didn’t take any drugs or alcohol. Even though I could really use a drink.” Not that she was going to get one. In between antibiotics and god knows what else she’d have to take she wouldn’t be allowed to touch booze for two months. That was far too long to process the fact that she had some sort of crazy, psycho, killer sister.

As she laid down she did turn her head towards her doctor. “Hey… you’re not going to call my emergency contact for this right? Really it’s just a little scratch. It just looks bad I think. Lots of blood but that doesn’t mean anything. Right?” There was just a slight hint of desperation in her elsewise fairly neutral tone. She didn’t want her dad to know she got stabbed. It would create too many questions and there was far too much going on already for her to tangle him up now with this as well.

Sekhmet considered her options, pursing her lips in thought. “Can you tell me about the incident? Obviously this isn’t self-inflicted.” She probed instead, before sighing. Angry patients don’t like being questioned and Sekhmet wasn’t in the mood to be annoyed. “I can’t report anything you don’t want me to, but I will need to write up an incident report without your personal details if you don’t want the police or your contact involved.” Perhaps a little comforting, perhaps not. Ms Markov was a grown adult, and if her reports came back normal and nothing developed overnight then… Sekhmet had no choice but to follow her patient’s wishes. Her eyes caught nail wounds on Isabel’s hands that had been cleaned and disinfected by the paramedics on the way, confirming Sekhmet’s suspicions that Isabel had been under stress up until recently. “I won’t call your emergency contact, but I may need to should something happen overnight.”

Isabel let out a sigh of relief when she heard her emergency contact wouldn’t be called. The last thing she needed was for her dad to come rushing in. Isa had far too many questions for him right now to meet him on such unequal ground. She lifted her hands up meekly. The adrenaline was already leaving her. Her body began to feel sore from the fighting. “I didn’t do this myself this time.” She quipped as she felt hazy for a second. The second she heard herself say it she snapped out of it. She pulled herself up to sit upright in the bed. It hurt but she would withstand it. “Right, report.” She quickly changed subject as she tried to appear more awake. “It’s a weird story. I just came into my room and there was some… stranger standing there. One thing led to another and we got into a fight.” She left out the fact that said stranger was some highly trained and blood curdling savage fighter. And that she was her sister in at least some capacity. The cops didn’t need to know that. “I would’ve won if she didn’t stab me! Right then security came in. After that things are a bit.. fuzzy.” She quickly added. She would’ve won if that stranger hadn’t stabbed her. She was sure of that! She always won. She always had to win.

After she said her story she knew she couldn’t hold the upright position on the bed. Slowly she let her fall back again. She felt a bit sleepy. That was probably the blood loss. Nothing she couldn’t fight with some will power. “Not really the five star hotel suite bed I was hoping to sleep in tonight, but I guess there are worse places to have to stay at night.” She said with a faint smile. Then she looked back at Doctor Ayad. “I’ll be alright, right doctor?”

Isabel’s wavering speech and declining consciousness was alarming for Sekhmet, and the swelling around her thigh seemed to be getting worse despite the bandages. Something told her that she didn’t have much time to demand a scan from the radiology department before Isabel’s injuries would turn critical. Her hand hovered over the pressured bandage, her godly essence probing at the wound to seek for internal damage.

There, roughly half an inch of glass embedded deep into her thigh and dangerously close to the femoral artery. As Sekhmet pressed the emergency call button beside Isabel’s bed, she kept her hand against Isabel’s thigh to maintain pressure. “Ms Markov, we need to retrieve this glass shard still in your thigh. You’ll be fine, but because you’ll be under anesthetic I will have no choice but to call your emergency contact.” Sekhmet warned as doctors rushed into Isabel’s ward.

“There’s swelling of the thigh, I can feel an object still embedded. Suspected aneurysm. Send her to the OT, it needs retrieval and stitches.” Sekhmet barked orders as assistants flooded the room. She turned back to Isabel one more time, giving her arm an assuring squeeze. “You’re in safe hands, Ms Markov. Leave it to us.”

“Wait what?” Isabel jolted up when she heard she had to be put under, but was immediately pushed down again by a nurse. “Don’t call him! Really you shouldn’t-“ Her eyes darted around. It was happening fast, but Isabel was used to these kinds of situations. When something escalates this fast all you can really do is go with the flow. She swallowed her last words of protest. Instead grabbed her doctor’s arm and looked her straight in the eyes. “Do me a favor alright. When he comes in, tell him I know about my sister.”

Sekhmet remained in the ward as Isabel’s bed was wheeled out. There wasn’t any time for her to worry for the little mortal when there was so much left to do. Sekhmet wasn’t even sure if she wanted to get involved with petty family drama when her own was enough. She followed the team shortly afterwards, maintaining distance as Isabel was prepared for surgery and only left the viewing room when the anesthesiologist walked in.

Duty calls.

At the nurse’s station, she pulled up Isabel’s admission records, allowing the Goddess to quickly pull up the number of her next of kin - Alexander Markov. As expected, Isabel didn’t want her father to get involved and considering the favor she’d asked of her? Reality television levels of drama could be expected. She dialed the number on the screen and when she heard the call get picked up, Sekhmet got started.

“Good evening, I am Dr. Nadia Ayad from UW medical center. Is this Alexander Markov?”

There was a very long pause coming from the other end.

“Sekhmet?”

“Yes, good, so-” It took a moment for Sekhmet to register exactly what she heard from the other side, having been relying on auto-pilot to guide her through the phone call. The voice was unmistaken on the other end, and her face immediately soured. “Ares.”

It took another moment for Sekhmet to realize exactly why she was on the line in the first place. “You’re Alexander Markov?”

”I am. Why are you calling me?” There was just a slight hint of worry in his voice.

Perhaps it was the result of the day Sekhmet had, or perhaps she was always waiting to get one over Ares. Regardless, with everything fitting into place as it was, she was thrilled. “It appears Isabel Markov is listed here as your daughter, interesting. Is that what you’ve been up to these last-” She paused to read Isabel’s date of birth, “Twenty seven years?”

“Sekhmet.” There was clear exasperation in his voice. “What happened to her?”

“Like father, like daughter, Ares. Getting into trouble where she shouldn’t. Mortals are terribly weak, so easy to break. A single stab wound is enough to send them to the gates of death’s realm.” Sekhmet couldn’t hide the malicious grin any longer, having to turn her body to face the wall so her co-workers couldn’t question her.

Again there was a long pause from the other end.

“It’s good to hear that deep down I am still right about you. I’ll be there promptly.” After that Sekhmet was met with beeping noise only. Ares had hung up.
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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by sly13
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sly13

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𝐦 𝐞 𝐫 𝐜 𝐲
𝐦 𝐞 𝐫 𝐜 𝐲

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘭𝘺𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘤 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘣
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝘗𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦 @Aewin, 𝘏𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘴 @sly13 & 𝘏𝘢𝘵𝘪 @KZOMBI3



Blood.

Divine blood.

It stained the bottom of Persephone’s shoes a deep red, the glass crunching beneath her feet as she tread closer to the scene. Dread filled her stomach, something telling her not to see. Not to explore further into the room, but her feet moved before her mind did.

The mangled bodies of her children met her eyes, punishing her for her curiosity. Her first words were inaudible, and frankly Persephone was barely in control of herself in the first place. She fell to her knees beside her children, one shaky hand touching Macaria’s cold face while the other reached for Zagreus’ hand. Neither moved beneath her. There was no life in them.

A sinking pain enveloped her heart, numbing the sharp dig of glass shards into the Goddess’s legs. Λουλούδι μου, please, wake up. Hades, why are they lying here? Why? Why?

The world around Hades seemed to fade away into nothingness until all he could see was his wife's crouching figure and the lifeless bodies of his two children. The whispers and the murmurs no longer could be heard by the god as they were replaced with the sounds of his own heart beating. As he stared at the body of his lifeless son for the second time in his long life Hades felt truly powerless for the first time in his long existence. As the feeling of hopelessness began to set in, Hades noticed his wife had asked him the simplest of questions and he felt his spirit destroyed once again.

Hades felt his knees give as he grabbed his wife and embraced her as tightly as he could not caring about the shards of glass digging deep into his flesh. “I'm so sorry, Persephone. I'm so sorry.” Hades did his best to console her as he slowly whispered the apology to his wife.

Persephone clung onto Hades like a lifeline, but it couldn’t wipe the blood that burned her palms - the blood of her, their children. Zagreus, who they had only just gotten back before the fall and Macaria who still was growing into a strong woman in her own right. No more would Persephone get to use mortal technology to contact them, if only to hear their voices after a bad day. Their family of five was now a family of three and Persephone wasn’t sure if they would be lucky to get their children back a second time. “I’ll… I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them all. Somebody harmed our children” She hoarsely promised into Hades’ shoulder. “We’ll get them back. They’re waiting for us at the gates, we’ll get them back.”

After having rounded up the mortals and assured them that the situation was nothing other than a murder mystery luncheon - of which they believed quite easily - Hati returned to the main area where the commotion had taken off. There were some missing pieces of this game, having slipped out from under the brilliant detective's nose, to which he scowled.

Eyes darting around the room they landed on the grieving parents kneeled down beside the bodies. As quick as the wind, and just as graceful, he was beside them gently laying a hand to Hades’ well tailored suit, motioning for the pair of them to stand. It was a tricky thing for the white wolf to be so careful, trepidation wasn’t a strong look on him and he worried what the outcome of being so close to the Greeks would be. Yet, here he was, biting his tongue from spilling too much information to upset them further and end his life this day as well.

“Come, we must get you out of here,” His voice was low and soft, a whisper to anyone else listening in, “There is nothing more for you to do here. Don’t let your wife suffer more with this sight…” If he couldn’t pull them away with physical strength he would pull via the heartstrings. No one, parent or child, should have to sit among their dead like this.

As Persephone sobbed and threatened the world many times over, Hades just held her tighter as he tried to comfort her. “I promise I'll find them and when I do they will wish Tartarus was their destination.” Hades could barely contain his anger and his sorrow within him but did his best if only for his wifes sake.

As he was attempting to comfort his wife Hades felt hand on his shoulder causing his head to whip around. His eyes glared at the poor soul who dared to touch him at a time like this. As the lord of the dead stared at the intruder he nodded at his words agreeing with the norse god before turning to his wife. “We need to leave honey.” he whispered to her as he lifted her from the ground and began carrying her away from the scene. ‘Charon, if you're still down there, please guide our children across the river.’

The presence of Hati was no comfort. Persephone was ready to wrap her hands around the young God’s throat for daring to take her from her children but Hades’ firm arms around her body kept her grounded in their reality. What good would it do harming Hati when he was likely one of the few that they could rely on? “What of Melinoë, Hati? Where is my daughter?” Panic started ebbing up her throat as her thoughts grew uncontrolled.

When she rounded on him Hati feared more for his life than with Hades. A mother's wrath is nothing compared to a father's. Scanning the room around them once more he noticed that Melinoë had long since been pulled away, a blessing in disguise. Steeling himself the Norse wolf turned to her with a small smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes, "Phobos and Apollo have pulled her away. Most likely taking her back to the Acropolis." Extending his hand to the Queen of the Underworld he motioned with his head once more towards the door.

"We really need to get you two out of here. Someplace safe. I don't have to know it, just get there and wait to hear from Athena and Artemis, they're running point," With an added thought he continued on, "We're going to find who did this to your children. It's not just an attack on you, it's an attack on us all."

Hades nodded at hearing that his daughter was safe, or at least with other gods for the time being though he would much prefer her under his watch. As they exited the door Hades glared towards the valet who appeared to be shocked for only a moment before running away with the keys to grab their car. In truth Hades was not happy about being told to sit on the sidelines as the norseman was insinuating they do. This feeling wasn't exactly helped either by the fact that his nieces were apparently taking charge of the situation. It wasn't that he did not believe in their ability, if anyone from their pantheon could find something it would be the goddess of wisdom herself. But the last thing Hades wanted was to be left out of the loop of information while Athena reported to his brother Zeus. “Well if they learn anything please let us know.” Hades let his words hang with a hint of threat to them that he was sure Hati could detect.

Likewise Persephone struggled with the idea of handing over all control to the rest of the Gods, but Hades’ threat was enough to quell the growing storm in her chest. She left a hand on his arm, hoping it was as comforting as he had been to her. Leaving it up to Athena was the best they could do for now. Persephone could trust the Goddess, her friend, but that trust in the other Gods was beginning to wane. One look at Hades confirmed that neither of them intended on staying out of the investigation for long. She gripped his hand, “Come, αγάπη μου, let us get some rest. We will need our strength, so that even the Erinyes will be begging for our mercy when we find the ανόητος αρουραίος that dared to cross our family.”

The valet returned with the keys, shakily offering to the God without looking him in the eyes, as to avoid incurring his wrath. Before climbing into the car, Persephone turned to Hati to offer him one last look. “Thank you, Hati. I, too, hope to hear something soon.” ‘For all our sakes’ remained unsaid.

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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by metanoia
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location || Olympic Club Ballroom → Rooftop
mentions || Hati
Interactions || Anteros @smarty0114

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"What a disaster," Athena muttered after Hati informed her of her new-appointed duties, as well as other troubling bits of information.

No, not a disaster. A disaster would be if those two death children, Zagreus and Macaria, Athena's cousins, didn't lay as still as the mortal dead did but somehow rose from their position in some crude prank only those belonging to the Realm of Death would be amused by. It would be in poor taste, but everyone who stood around -- at least those who weren't petrified in their place or felt unphased due to them not having any personal attachment -- would have eventually moved past the tasteless prank.

But that's not what happened. No, the Goddess of Wisdom understood what happened and that struck fear that only her father, when he was feeling it, was capable of. The kind of fear that might make a few of the deities present feel. It was the first time since when? Since the fall, perhaps, that even Athena felt as helpless as a mortal. She understood what this meant. If someone like those two, Zagreus and Macaria, could be slain like regular mortals, did that mean the rest of them could be?

Shrugging that moment of weakness off, she had a job to do. Athena would be the one to be appointed lead of solving this. Not that she necessarily disagreed with the choice. She wanted justice for those two who were slain. It was strange. Even though she wasn't the least bit close to her Uncle Hades nor necessarily close, the loss of life, especially if it was a meaningless loss of life, enraged her. And she was in the best position to get to the bottom of this mystery. She also had the deductive skills to help illuminate the mystery, even if just slightly.

Humming, Athena's gaze went up. "To the roof then," she muttered to herself.

Athena made quick work of the stairs and found herself on the roof. Ominous or not, there was an eerie chill up top. She looked down at the broken skylight and caught the glimpse of something of interest. A sword. It was an intriguing sword, the Goddess of Wisdom and Crafts (among other things) thought. "So this is the weapon."

In the years that passed, the centuries she has been in the realms of Mortals, there were few things that truly made her wary. Creations upon creations from divine weaponry to Greek armor and swords, Athena had knowledge of how weapons were crafted, knowledge of things that only two had: herself and Hephaestus. Hephaestus, who was the real brainchild behind most of the most infamous weapons that any of the Olympians had in their arsenal, but she had knowledge of them too. She consumed many tombs and textbooks that were from other religions and other pantheons. Eras past and present, but the Dáinsleif, this was one that had the least amount of information about it. Small snippets here and there, but nothing truly concrete.

But these runes.

"There's no doubt about it. Norse Runes." There was a sense of dread. Even holding the sword, Athena sensed the bloodlust. Or maybe it was that she sensed something quite dark. Was it because of the death children whose very essence was darkness or was it something else?

That aside, something else stood out to the Goddess of Wisdom. Its condition. "An old blade like this, as old as time itself, it appeared to be in perfect condition." She found that very intriguing for a lot of reasons and many of them remained unclear to her. Many things went through her head but one that persisted was why Zegreus and Macaria? Why kill them? And why this blade? It puzzled her beyond anything had before. Not even losing out to Aphrodite puzzled her more. "Enlightening, but the answers I seek aren't here--"

Athena heard something and her attention was immediately drawn to the steps she had just climbed up. "Whoever that is, you shouldn't be up here." She didn't know who followed her, but as the steps got louder and a form revealed themselves, she blinked at them, almost surprised. "Anteros? What are you doing up here?"
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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by smarty0114
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Location: Under The Tree -> The Outskirts of Seattle





When he awoke, he was alone, as he had been all those centuries ago. His ears rang as silence broke for the first time in two thousand years. The sudden sight he’d been gifted was overwhelming, and he shoved the palms of his hands against his face to block out the dim light of whatever cavern he’d awoken in. He leaned forward, fell, and stumbled to his feet, still blind. He could feel fresh air blowing against his skin, could hear the patter of raindrops, could taste the scent of pine and moisture on his tongue.

Warily, he made his way towards the breeze, eyes screwed shut and hands out in front of him. He tripped up a flight of stone stairs, but he did not slow his ascent. His skin prickled as the cold air of this strange land whispered against his bare skin, and he shivered as the first drops of rain fell against him. For a moment, he basked in the cold, letting the water run over him. Despite the chill, he could not help the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth. It reminded him of Helheim.

Finally, he dared to open his eyes to the world around him. He squinted as the cloudy light of the forest shone down upon him, looking around for any sign of where he’d been. He could see that he’d emerged from a tree, though that was hardly the strangest of occurrences in his life. More curious to him was the vast stretch of emptiness that went on for leagues, completely unmarred by buildings. Was this where he had fallen? How long had he been asleep?

Questions began to swim through his head, drowning him in uncertainty. Voices swam through his mind, but were they memories, or whispers of the draugr that haunted this place? Was he dead, or reborn? The confusion shocked his still foggy mind, and he let out an anguished scream, falling to his knees in the grass, and letting his fear and confusion tear through him. He was lost, and he was alone, and he had nowhere to turn. His scream died out and his panting breaths filled the silence. He clenched his fists, willing himself to stand up, and go, anywhere. He just needed to move. And so he did.





He walked for hours, naked and alone, stoic as he strode across this foreign field. Rocks and thorns littered the ground, but they did not mark his feet with blood, and so he took no notice. His eyes were trained ahead of him, at the small cottages rising over the hill. They were brighter than those he’d known, sturdier it seemed. There were so many, so close together, a small village just past the fence, standing in an orderly line.

The dirt beneath his feet faded to stone, smooth and grey. Wooden fences lined the back of each homestead, blocking the world behind their borders from his view. He watched the neighborhood from his vantage point in the woods, debating his options. The lights burning in each window told him there was plenty of help to be had here, assuming the townspeople were friendly. Perhaps they worshipped his father? Though he was not sure anyone who saw him now would believe him to be a son of Odin. His face was streaked with sweat, his feet caked in dirt. His blonde hair, once so brilliant, was dry straw brushing against his neck. Still, he would not make it far on his own.

He strolled forward with the purpose of a soldier, knocking on the door of the first house he passed. His knuckles rapped against the wood with a satisfying thud. He had been asleep for quite some time it seemed. The mortals had gotten much better doors.

“He-What the fuck?” the door swung open to reveal a startled, older woman, dressed in a nightgown despite the sun’s rays still peering over the horizon. The words she spoke were unfamiliar to him, a garbled mess of sounds that fell upon deaf ears.

“Minn nafn er Baldr Odinson, ok ek þorfuþinnr fylgjagð,” he said, earning him a look of fear from the woman before him. The door slammed in his face, and he heard the woman’s voice call out. Perhaps she was fetching the servants to prepare his room? The mortals had certainly grown stranger.

Suddenly the door swung open and something was being pointed in his face. It was not a sword. He knew swords. This was different, something new. He blinked in surprise, but remained still, unsure of what exactly he was facing.

“Listen buddy. You’ve got five seconds to step off my porch and get the fuck outta Dodge, okay?”

Baldr blinked again.

“Are you stupid? Get the fuck outta here!”

Baldr remained where he was, an immovable stone. In a flash, the man’s hand whipped out, smacking him across the face with whatever strange weapon he held in his hand. His face turned to the side, due more to surprise than to any strength this mortal might possess. Shouts filled the air, but he could not hear him over the whispers in his head, the whispers that spurred him on. The whispers told him that he needed to kill this man and his wife, make them pay. And so he did.

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Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by Legion02
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Clarion Call

𝐋𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Hephaestus’ Workshop
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: None


Ares had genuinely looked forward to being guided through Seattle. The guide herself wasn’t particularly cheap either. Everything was supposed to be normal and in control. As he was driving through the streets with his own car he thought back to that plan. He’d slowly introduce Tlaz and Isabel to each other. Both women had a temperament. At first they’d clash, of course. After a while though they’d start to grow on each other. Before she’d know it, Isa would have the family she always wanted. After that she’d probably need a few visits from Anubis before Ares breaks the big secret.

Instead, he was zipping through the streets of this city in an effort to save Pothos. The plan didn’t need to be dropped entirely but it most certainly would need to change a little. That and someone was going to get nailed to a cross with rusty nails for even thinking they could go after one of his children.

After driving for what felt like hours he finally arrived to where his GPS told him Heph’s workshop should be. It wasn’t called that of course. Still, when Ares pulled up to the place, he was slightly surprised. It didn’t look at all like something a god would want to be at. It was in a dilapidated part of town, surrounded by hollow husks of factories. Broken glass and shattered windows were abundant. Nobody cared, clearly. As most of the broken windows weren’t even closed with something like cardboard. The concrete underneath Ares as he stepped out of his car was cracked and broken in places. Why would Hephaestus ever want his workshop here?

Unless there was a more sinister purpose. “What did you get yourself involved in brother?” He said to himself again as he approached the warehouse door. It opened without issue. The inside looked almost as abandoned, almost. But several years of war taught Ares to recognize the tracks of a hidden base. Often times the clues were right there: a somewhat clean, dry floor. Hephaestus was here for sure.

Ares heard a sudden hissing noise. He turned around. Two darts flew straight for him. Suddenly all his muscles tensed up as hundred volts of electricity coursed through him. His own nerves fought the overwhelming force of the electricity. He grabbed the wires with one hand. Then with the other, then he let the jolting shocks do the rest as his tensed-up muscles ripped the cords apart. “A taser? Really Hephaestus?” Ares shouted out. That wasn’t going to stop him.

But it did make him pull his pistol and made him regret not wearing his bulletproof vest. Those were things to worry about later. He kept going through the corridor. He tried to evade a few more tiles that looked a bit too loose. Then accidentally pushed against something to the wall. Again something hissed. Ares ducked. Scalding steam shot from a valve to the side. A second too late and Ares would’ve been seriously burned.

Two steps further and he heard the clanging of metal coming down. Ares never looked up. He rolled out of the way. Just in time. A metal cage fell down where he was just minutes ago. The god of war turned to inspect it. A small, knowing grin formed on his lips. He recognized the shape of the cage.

Eventually, he reached the end of the winding corridor though. It led to a locked door with no intercom. A fool might think the lock was something simple. Not to Ares. He saw the lines and connections. Hephaestus was always fond of his complex creations. Ares could crack it though.

The god of war had different ideas though. He went back outside to his car and popped the trunk. There was a reason why he took his own car. He rummaged through a few things. For a moment he pulled out a big sledgehammer. No, too slow. Crowbar? Not strong enough. Wireless electric saw? Decent, but he had something different. Eventually, he grabbed a small pot filled with grey dust in it. “I don’t have time for your games Hephaestus.” He said to himself as he made his way through the trapped corridor. He taped the pot to the door and lit the fuse.

Exactly thirty-five seconds later the fuse lit the thermite. 4.000°F heated metal burned through the lock like a blowtorch through butter. With a heavy thud the core of the puzzle lock fell down, drenched in molten slag. Ares waited patiently until the reaction ran its course. In the end the metal door had a decently sized hole burned through it. But when Ares tried the knob it opened up. Revealing a staircase leading down.

Hephaestus was nostalgic if nothing else. His workshop’s layout had some clear callbacks to the one he had back when he was a god. For Ares that was a good thing. He knew where to look and what to ignore. His notes were haphazardly strewn around but the God of the Forge always had a logic to his chaos. Ares was quick to piece the notes together. “Elysium steel.” Ares said as he picked up and puzzled together some of the notes. He didn’t know what it meant but it couldn’t be good. The god of war’s heart then dropped.

Tacked on a corkboard, almost hidden in plain sight, were two things that did not look like they belonged there. Ares took the first one.



“What have you gotten yourself into brother.” Ares said as he looked over the card. This reeked of a cult. He turned the card over.



A shiver went down to Ares’ spine. Until now he had hoped and wished Hephaestus was another victim. Perhaps his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Not anymore. He was invited to a cult. Humans could’ve figured out that the divine are real. Gears started to twist in Ares’ mind. They could hurt his children, they may already have. They could also hurt Tlaz and that was a thought Ares could not bear.

With a brisk, anxious pace he made his way back to his car. Once inside he pushed the pedal to the metal and started calling.

~

Ares called people across the globe from his car. Baghdad, Seoul, Brussels, New York, and Washington were all called. The call never lasted longer than half a minute. Within the intelligence community, it would not make ripples. It would make waves. Within a minute of being called, a highly trained and dangerous killer booked a charter flight to Seattle leaving within three hours. Bullets were bought along the way. Armories were emptied. Something was afoot. It was as if the Epilektoi were preparing for a war. It would worry many that almost all were clearly converging towards one place. Two operatives did not take a plane. Instead they got into a car and started driving to a particular address in Washington.
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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Akayaofthemoon
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Akayaofthemoon

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𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖔 𝖘
𝖈 𝖍 𝖆 𝖔 𝖘

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: UW Medical Center
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Tlaz, Hathor, Sekhmet, Isabel & Ares
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: a whole bunch of Ares shit-talking
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Stray tears slid down her cheeks, dropping onto the carpeted rug beneath her as she lay there, heartbroken and physically feeling numb to the world around her. She couldn’t find the will to get up to function just yet. She didn’t know how or when she had arrived home, everything being fuzzy since the moment her eyes had locked with another pair that she recognized, ones that were dulled of life, and cold in a way they never should have been. Death was the parting and the new growth of life on the mortal plane but that meaning was lackluster and very different when seeing the result on people that had touched your heart. Hathor’s reasonable side shouted that she hadn’t known, couldn’t have known, that even if she had…it might not have changed his fate but it still hurt. They had confided in each other about so much and had found an easy friendship, one that was short, a mere few months in the making but one she had cherished. She had hoped to hold onto their connection as long as possible for a mortal life and now, she found out too late…they could have been friends for far longer than the small blip of a mortal lifespan….and they both could have spoken the secretive truth of their existence….. they could have said their real names instead of keeping up a farce with each other….now it would never happen…. someone had stolen that from her. Had hurt not only her but others that she cared for by such horrendous actions.

Zion….no…’

….Ζαγρεύς, Hath whispered weakly, another fresh batch of tears flowing as she curled tighter into herself. He was…gone and while she didn’t know Macaria very well, the Greek goddess had deserved better than what fate had granted her. She couldn’t imagine what Persephone and Hades were going through right now, having never been a parent or lost a child. Her heart bled for the two that she cared for. She didn’t even remember if she had let them know she was here for them. That she would hunt down the one who did this. They would pay with suffering, blood, and bones. The killer would feel the pain they all felt a million fold if she had anything to say about it. A swell of rage grew once more, boiling under the surface and mixing in with her sorrow as she wanted to hunt, shred, and destroy. A happy chime pulled her back to the land of the living, bursting the bubble her mind had created to just wallow in her swirling thoughts and emotions. She blinked slowly, letting everything come into focus once more as she felt uncomfortable…the rug was digging against her skin and caused an itchy feeling, her dried tears felt sticky, she was having trouble breathing from the amount of crying, there was a slight stinging sensation near her ankles while everything else felt stiff.

Rising weakly into a seated position, she looked around the room and noticed the chaos all around her. Objects were smashed to pieces, items toppled over and scattered about, stains from broken wine bottles littered the floor, and glass of different kinds were all about. It looked like a war zone or maybe even worse than that with the exception of the patch she sat in. She looked down at her legs, a few little nics most likely from splashback broken glass but nothing deep or worrisome. She pushed off the ground to stand, carefully weaving through the mess to the source of the noise that drew her away from pleasant numbness. The phone glowing with a notification stating it was time for work, bringing her thoughts to Tlaz and reminding her that there were still dangers lurking. Ones that could remove even more from her. No, she would protect them. Determination filled her as she turned away to get cleaned up and ready for the rest of what was left of this horrid day. She would not fail anyone else.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••


Hathor stepped into the Jade Jaguar, looking very much the goddess she was instead of the weak woman she had been within the safety of her home. She walked with purpose, people naturally stepping out of her way as if creating a path and she didn’t know if their internal instincts warned them of the danger lurking behind the surface of calm or if they knew exactly who she was and the direction she would ultimately be taking. The moment she slid behind the bar, she felt her nerves starting to soothe a bit as she felt in her element and safer amongst the crowd of people. ”Hey hun, I got it from here. Why don’t you get out of here while you still can?”, she stated with a smile to the current tender who was filling up trays as well as assisting the current clients deciding to partake in refreshments from the cushioned seats there. “Sure thing! Thanks Jas!” she smiled, eagerly handing over the vodka bottle in her hands and not giving a look back as she hurried away. Hath shook her head lightly at her retreating form and had she been in a better mood she might have even chuckled but instead her sharp gaze glided over the crowd, feeling on edge when she didn’t spot Tlaz right away.

There was a tremulous amount of emotions bubbling up inside Tlazōlteōtl that she wasn't entirely sure what to do with. All she knew was that she intended on confronting Ares with the little information she gathered from this evening. God's safety be damned. The more she thought about it the more somber she became and the more somber she became the more it fueled her to become even more enraged than she had known in quite a long time.

Thirty fucking years. No call. No letter. Absolute silence from the one who claimed to adore her. Love her. It tore her apart piece by piece. She thought she was over this issue by now. Snatching up anyone available mortal and god alike. But upon seeing him earlier today and the words he spoke that little, dying spark of hope reignited once more. But now? Tsk. Now she would get her answers. No more would he be allowed to hide and lie to her again.

She was storming past the secondary bar, the main one seated towards the front middle of the establishment, when a familiar set of eyes caught her attention. Planning to inform Hathor of the situation she sharply turned on her heel and made it to the counter in record time. "Yolicniuhtli
I will be stepping out for a while. Don't know if I will return tonight, do you mind closing up?"


As an afterthought she added, "I'm hunting for War," and the gleam in her eyes screamed for a fight.

”You know I would do anything for you but please sit, have a drink, and tell me what happened? Not that you need a reason in my book to hunt down War but I am worried about you roaming the city alone after…today.”, voicing her concern and fears as she reached under the counter, pulling out a glass and already setting to work to pour her friend a drink. If anything, it would at least calm the nerves a bit.

Sighing through her nose she listened to Hath; she had no reason not to. But she didn't want this… motivation to fizzle out before she had a chance to find the god in question. "One drink," lithe fingers held the glass and swirled it, eyes watching the liquid twist and turn like the emotions within her. Finally taking that first sip she looked to her friend. "Would you believe me if I told you he had a child, one that wasn't already known to you?" The words felt like hot coals in her throat and there was no stopping her from biting her lip to keep her composure as she delved into the conversation just moments before with this daughter of his and the stories she weaved.

At the end of it all, Tlazōlteōtl had had a few more than just the one drink, her anger still present just taking a backseat to the confusion trying to take its place, "He left me, in Madrid… for someone else. Had a child with them… I should have listened to you when you told me not to get involved with him. Should have listened to everyone…"

This was one of the few and only times that being told ‘you were right’ didn’t feel enjoyable and instead filled her with all encompassing wrath. How dare he? Thirty years? Not once had he had the courage to say what had happened while still claiming to love her upon return? It felt familiar to her, being played for second best if this child had been at all truthful. Hathor wished she had been here to question the woman herself but Ares would be the next best bet. Tlaz was right, he needed to be hunted down and forced to explain with no more secrets or omissions.

A loud piercing scream brought her out of her murderous thoughts, letting her claim the reins on her rage momentarily which was getting out of hand today, not that she could be fully blamed for those feelings. Either way, it flew her into high alert to see what had caused the mortal woman’s distress but only found the horrified expression addressed in her direction. Hath let her eyes drift down where all the stares from the patrons were locked and found large pieces of glass scattered over the bar, vodka spilling onto the ground and mixing with a growing puddle of blood pouring from her hand. The pain receptors started to activate now that it had been brought to her attention and she shakily opened her hand so she wasn’t pressing the glass embedded there deeper into her skin. She wanted to tell the others panicking not to worry but everyone was already on their phones, most likely calling emergency and other waitresses were gathering while expressing first aid knowledge which might have been more useful if she hadn’t been a goddess. Hath just looked up to Tlaz while ignoring those around her, an apologetic gaze as she would have to play along since there was no brushing off this kind of wound with so many witnesses to the event unfolding.

It was a sight to see for sure, as blood dripped from Hathor’s injured hand, and then to have the people in the immediate area run around trying to help. They wouldn’t ever believe that it was a blip to the likes of them. But nonetheless, Tlaz nodded in response to her friend’s gaze, they would need to play it up for the masses. “No worries everyone, it was an accident. I’ll make sure she gets to the hospital in one piece,” At the same time as she was standing, offering a hand to her injured friend, she called out for one of the managers - a veteran in the club. “Jacob love, would you mind taking over tonight?” The stoic male behind the bar nodded and took charge offering a round of drinks to get everyone’s attention off of them two.

Tlaz nodded gratefully towards the mortal male before turning all her attention towards the Egyptian beside her. The two were able to effectively walk out of there and into the cool night air to the concrete sidewalk. People bustling about, pushing this way and that only seconds before, parted like the Red Sea when their eyes laid on the godly figures before them. They were easy to ignore. All that was on their minds was getting out from under the curious gazes inside the Jaguar. “Do you need me to go with you? We can meet with Sekh, I think she’s working tonight?”

”I’ll be alright, go hunt down your man and show him who is boss. I’ll go see Sekh and see if she can’t patch me up. Be safe and keep me updated.”, she answered, flagging down a taxi with her good hand. Hath opened the back seat, pausing to give Tlaz a weak side hug and a quick ‘love you’ before hopping instead and giving the hospital address.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••


A mortal child.

It had to be a joke. That was what Ares was hiding?

Sekhmet listened to the dial tone ring for a few moments longer, allowing herself to linger in the absolute delirious state she was finding herself in, unable to hide the laughter erupting from her chest. So the great Ares had a weakness after all.

When she finally put the phone back down, Sekhmet staggered from the rush of different emotions overwhelming her. She had barely managed to unpack that luncheon before fate threw another curveball at her. Maybe she would not be so surprised if she sees Ra step through the emergency room doors tonight. Not that it would be pleasant…

Sekhmet chose to move from the nurse’s station, opting to check on her new favorite mortal’s recovery while she prepared herself for the inevitable chaos that Ares would bring upon his arrival. Isabel’s surgery was going as planned, and by Sekhmet’s estimate the little mortal would be wheeled out very soon to recover in her private ward.

She didn’t get very far however when a nurse quickly flagged her down. “Dr. Ayad! Glad I caught you! We have a patient that entered into emergency and she is refusing any assistance or treatment from anyone that isn’t you. She isn’t being unruly but was very persistent that no one else will do. She said she would be willing to wait if you were busy but her wounds are pretty deep, needing glass removal and stitches.…oh, and she also told me to tell you that ‘Ra is trash’ but I have no idea what that means?” he stated, trying to explain the situation and provide as much necessary information as possible. “Are you available to assist?”

Sekhmet had been ready to shoo the nurse away, her entire focus on preparing herself for the inevitable shitstorm that Ares would bring with him, but the code had the words stuck in her mouth. Unable to hide the giggle - because really, it was funny and there was only one other person that Sekhmet knew that could say something like that.

“Thank you, I’ll take it from here.” Isabel could wait, perhaps having Hathor’s support wouldn’t hurt. After dismissing the nurse, Sekhmet found the ward that Hathor had been assigned, entering the room with no hesitation.

“Hath,” Sekhmet greeted with a smile. “What can I do for you?”

”I could really use a hand.”, Hathor weakly joked with a smile while raising her damaged hand for Sekhmet to view. It still had pieces of glass stuck within and buried into her palm as she didn’t want to cause more problems by pulling it out. It would heal in no time but better safe than sorry so she had actually committed to going to the hospital instead of home or rampaging for War. ”I accidently forgot my own strength and the fact I had a bottle in my hand when receiving some interesting information.”

Sekhmet offered her hand, allowing Hathor to place her injured hand over her palm so she could examine it. “Today has been an interesting day for the two of us.” Sekhmet gingerly started treating the wounds, keeping hold of her hand so she could use her ability to speed up Hathor’s healing process. “Tell me as I work, that’ll be my payment for today.”

”Apparently, Tlaz got an interesting customer at the Jade Jaguar in the form of a daughter of Ares but a mortal one. She decided that telling Tlaz what Ares has been up to in his missing years and just how loved her mother was as if it was a wonderful idea. I realize that she doesn’t have full context if she is willing to step up against a goddess but it seems malicious all the same. If it is at all true, I would love to give Ares a piece of my mind or deliver him to Tlaz in a less than perfect condition so she can rip him a new one. All this time and he couldn’t even communicate with her! He left her for another and had the ones that truly care for her pick up the broken pieces of her heart!” she stated as Sekh worked her magic, she rage bubbling once more as she thought of all those weeks and months after the incident. He had hurt her deeply and came back in as if it were nothing. Hath didn’t even know if he realized just how badly he had messed up and the lack of communication and secrets just made everything all the worse. Ra had left her feeling second best and no one should have to feel that. Tlaz didn’t deserve it and especially not the secrecy of a child. Ra was an ass but at least he had been upfront when he had chosen another.

Sekhmet listened to Hathor rant, her own thoughts running amok as things started slipping into place. A mortal Ares child, a malicious mortal of Ares’ blood. “You wouldn’t happen to know what she looks like, do you?” Sekhmet asked. Karma worked rather quickly if it was indeed Isabel that Tlaz met. Was Hathor the reason Isabel had a glass shard embedded deep in her leg? No matter, Hathor would get her answers soon enough. “What if I told you… Ares is coming? Here, to the hospital. To see his daughter.” Sekhmet asked.

”Sadly, I was not there to see the altercation but Tlaz did give a brief description here and there.”, Hathor shrugged, figuring trying to find the mortal child would be like a needle in a haystack, where Ares was an easier target. Her curiosity peaked at Sekhmet’s next words though and a slow grin crept onto her face, Really? Isn’t karma just a bitch. I am assuming that the…daughter in question that he will be visiting is of mortal nature because it would be delightful to deal with two birds with one stone.”

Sekhmet mirrored Hathor’s expression, the air around them turning electric. “You’re correct. Stabbed sometime after visiting Tlazolteotl but she never revealed who. Isabel Markov is her name but here’s the interesting thing.” Sekhmet leaned closer to Hathor, as though she were revealing a big secret. “There’s nothing in her records. Birth certificate is government issued from Colombia, no mother’s name, no hospital details, nothing.” The lack of information was rather odd, but considering Ares was involved, it had to be for good reason. “The mortal even told me something before she was wheeled off into surgery. She knows about her sister.” The Lioness began to laugh earnestly, throwing her head back as though she heard the greatest joke in the world. “Ares wasn’t just loyal to Tlazolteotl, he wasn’t even loyal to his mortal.”

”Unbelievable! I swear…when I get my hands on him….I’ll make him pay but first, I think I need to give this mortal a visit.”

Although the bombshell was her favourite part of the gossip, Sekhmet couldn’t help but wonder about how perfectly the documents surrounding Isabel’s birth had been scrubbed. The goddesses discussed the mystery, long enough that even Hathor’s hand had fully healed by the time a timid looking nurse knocked on the door to the ward.

As Sekhmet approached, the nurse spoke. “Doctor Ayad? I was sent from gen surgery, your patient has been moved to her ward.” She announced, low enough that only Sekhmet could hear. Not that it mattered, Hathor would find out anyway.

“Is she awake?” Sekhmet asked, only for the nurse to nod in confirmation. “Thank you for letting me know, I’ll go check on her.” Sekhmet’s eagerness must have shown through, as the nurse nervously pulled at the threads of her sleeve before making her leave. With the nurse gone, Sekhmet turned to face Hathor. “Shall we?”

”Lead the way.”, Hathor replied with just as much eagerness.

The room chosen for Hathor and the room Isabel was recovering in weren't far apart. Sekhmet guided the enraged Goddess to the little mortal’s room. “Oh, I forgot to ask if Ares made it.” Sekhmet clicked her tongue in displeasure. Oh well.

Isabel’s room hadn't changed much since the last time she'd been inside. The only difference was the IV stand beside Isabel’s bed, attached to her arm as part of routine care. “Ms. Markov, welcome back to the land of the awake.”

“Oh heya doc.” A drowsy Isabel said. She was already sitting upright on the side of her bed. “Someone stole my clothes.” She noted off-handedly. The nurse in her room checking the IV rolled her eyes and walked over to Doctor Ayad. “She wants to leave.” The nurse noted dryly before walking out the room.

“Yup!” Isabel said as confidently as she could sound in her current state. “I’m leaving.” She grabbed the IV stand and with as much strength as she could muster she pulled herself up. Her left – stabbed – leg buckled immediately.

Sekhmet’s feet reacted before her mind did, crossing the threshold of Isabel’s room to reach her side and stabilize her. The fact that the little mortal was already pushing her limits by standing up (and getting far) was impressive to the Goddess. “Not so fast, Ms . Markov. I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

Hathor’s nose scrunched up while a frown of distaste plastered onto her features for a brief second at Sekhmet’s assistance of the little mortal but then again, she was a healer and if anything had appearances to keep up. She stepped out of the doorway, gently shutting the door before silently moving over to the window looking out into the hallway and closing the blinds. Normally, she would have taken one of the visitor chairs and blocked the door but who knows when their other visitor would arrive and it just wouldn’t do to have him kept from her or to ruin the ultimate surprise. She slowly turned around, a cheshire grin creeping onto her face as she grabbed the nearest chair, dragging it closer and sat down, crossing one leg over the other. ”And even if she was inclined to allow your release, you would have to get through me first and I promise…I am more than I appear. Now, we have a lot to discuss, you and I. Please, have a seat before I get up and assist you myself.”, she stated, her words calm and gentle as one would speak to a child but the hidden and deeper threats sat on the edge. Hath slowly slid into interrogation mode that she had used when working for Hades and was preparing to deal with her promptly to get what she needed and iron in the rules she would set.

“This sucks.” The only mortal in the room said dryly before she let herself fall backwards on the bed again. In an hour or two she’d try again. She did refused any further help from her doctor. If she got out of bed on her own she would get back into it on her own as well. However, with her test of strength so thoroughly failed her fight against the drowsiness of the drugs began to waver as well. When she had her back comfortably against the bed she let her head roll to her side to look at the new person who entered the room. Isabel didn’t recognize her.

“You’re pretty.” She said with a slight giggle. “Are you a friend of doc?” She tried to raise her arm to point at Doctor Ayad but her limb just mostly flopped.

Hathor chuckled lowly, ignoring the compliment for now before replying, ”You could say that but family would be closer to the truth. I happen to have other friends you have possibly met. A certain one at the Jade Jaguar comes to mind.”

”She was pretty too.” The mortal’s tone had shifted a little. Her brain - while slowed - began to realize what was happening. She just leaned back to make herself comfortable. This wasn’t going to be nice.

”Indeed she is. Now, it has come to my attention that you enjoyed a little conversation with her concerning your father. Now, while I don’t very much care or like your father….their relationship is none of my business so it damn sure isn’t your business either. Let me make this clear so your morphine riddled brain can comprehend. You stay away from her. You keep your mouth shut in her presence. I am being…..merciful in my request since I have complete faith that you know nothing about your father…well, not the important matters anyway. Do I make myself clear? Because next time, it won’t be a warning, that I promise you.”

Isabel gave this strange, new woman a sideway glance. Her heart was beating slightly faster. A bit of adrenaline was being pushed through her blood again already. Who the hell did this woman thinks she was? The fact that she seemingly knew more about Isabel’s father did make her a little curious but not afraid. Too many strange things happened already. By now it was just easier to go with the flow. Once she would be out the hospital, preferably before her father could get here, she’d start stressing about piecing it all together.

“You were very clear.” Isabel noted, though she was again looking up at the ceiling. She had been threatened enough in her life. “But not very convincing. I don’t really care about your friend. If she does what I think she’ll do then I probably won’t see or speak to her again.” There was a malevolent grin on her face now too. “So take your threats and just go. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

”Oh, I guess you don’t understand what clear means. Allow me to enlighten you.”, Hathor stated, all the gentleness leaving her voice and becoming cold, lifeless, and a glimpse of pure unfiltered rage that usually boiled into destruction. She stood slowly, moving to the bedside as she purposely dug her nails into the freshly fixed wound and wishing she had kept the glass that had been in her palm not long ago. She pressed in harder, leaning to the girl's ear so close that her mouth was touching the shell as she whispered, ”I don’t make threats. I make promises and not even your father could stop me if I saw fit to make you my target. Whatever game you think you are playing, you are fighting a losing battle. She will not react how you want and all you have bought is her rage at your father which usually leads to results you clearly won’t enjoy. Next time, stop acting like a child and confront your father about what is really digging under your skin….” Hath pushed more of her strength into putting as much harm that could be easily fixed quickly by Sekh as she could and dug even deeper into the wound. ”….or I will physically dig into yours in a way that will not be fixable.”

She finally pulled back, placing herself back into her seat and looked at her hands, inspecting them as if she had broken a nail and was determining how to fix it. She didn’t like this child’s mouth but that was clearly a trait her and her father seemed to share. If he would just show up already, she could do what she craves without holding back. Isa was already pushing her luck and limits as it was and Ares would be so much more fun to hassle. She was about ready to just spill everything to the mortal child just to watch her brain overload to process it.

It was a crying shame that she was a child of Ares. In another life, Sekhmet could have liked the little mortal. Not many were able to talk back against the great Hathor, though perhaps the little mortal simply wasn't aware of what she was getting involved in. There was a pool of blood slowly building around the wound Hathor had caused, the stitches from surgery broken like string. Sekhmet wasn't in any hurry to heal the wound just yet. She would be patient. “What have you gotten yourself into, little mortal?” Sekhmet asked patronisingly.

If Isa wasn’t on painkillers Hathor’s torture would’ve had her squirming on the bed. Luckily for her morphine blocked a large part of the pain. The rest she could easily embrace. That was the trick with inevitable pain. Fighting it made it worse. Embracing it, accepting it, was the only way. At least in the short term. Inside though she did grin. Whoever this woman was, she gave her a little more insight in her adversary. Hatred and rage wouldn’t win? Perhaps she would have to do things the other way around then.

Of course, first she would have to find out who this woman was and utterly ruin her life.

She wasn’t going to say that part out loud of course. She just turned towards her doc, who was probably in on it but she couldn’t really blame her. That was what family was for right? You helped each other, no matter how weird or dangerous a request. There was still a bottle of whiskey from Isabel waiting for her in the future. Though it probably wouldn’t be top shelf stuff.

“Right.” Isabel just said as she grabbed the IV stand again. “My stitches…seem to have… broken.” She managed to get out. Her breathing was heavy and labored. She was pushing her body. The bleeding didn’t help. Isabel gave her doctor a small smile as she again swung her legs out from under her bed. This time she only dropped on her left leg. It could hold her weight for now. Just barely. “I better… find a nurse to… patch tha-” Her words slowed as she couldn’t even finish the sentence. Her brain was getting a bit foggy. No matter, she’d push through. She always pushed through. With a hop, she began to make an attempt to move.

Sekhmet blocked her way once again, with an arm stretched in front of Isabel to hold onto her IV. “No need to panic, Ms. Markov. If you cooperate with us, I could heal you till you're capable of sprinting out those doors within hours. Doctor’s promise.” Sekhmet paused briefly before adding. “And… Well, we’re still waiting on one more guest. I can't let him not see you like this.”

“I seem to be expected.”

Ares stepped through the door just in time to see Sekhmet holding back his wounded daughter and then at Hathor with a bloodied hand sitting in a seat next to the bed.

”I have to say, your daughter is as thick headed as you are. Seems she wants to ruin your relationship before it’s even gotten its footing again. Keep that wreck away from her. I mean it. I won’t clean up your mess again. She gets hurt and I won’t play nice. We can discuss details after our kind doctor gives you the details of what I reopened.”

The arrival of Ares brought a malicious grin on Sekhmet’s face, allowing the God to witness the state of his daughter before coaxing Isabel to lie back down on the hospital bed. “The apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Your daughter pissed someone off and got to face the consequences. This,” Sekhmet gestured towards the reopened stitches before placing her hand over the wound, “This is just the start. I won't be here to heal her next time.” A promise was a promise, and Sekhmet was a Goddess of her word. She had no hatred for the little mortal in front of her, it was just a shame her father was who he was.

Isabel felt like she was on the brink of passing out until suddenly she felt a warmth radiate from her leg. Her lucidity returned to her as the distant sting of her wound began to fade. Until it was gone completely. She gave her leg a practice swing. The muscle was fully restored. With shock and confusion she looked at Sekhmet.

“Go outside.”

She looked up at her father. “Dad… how.. did-“

“Go outside.” He said again. In a way telling her he wouldn’t negotiate with her. Not right now. Right now she had to follow orders. Even if she had a million questions. Quite meekly and wordlessly she passed Doctor Ayad and then her father. Who had his eyes still trained on the two other women in the room. After what felt far too long, she finally got out of there.

“Both of you… are exceptionally cruel. She is a mortal! And wounded! Yet the both of you come in here barely masking your own divinity over what?” He then turned specifically towards Sekhmet. “You created the expectation that you were better than that. You’re falling short.” And after that he left. He had nothing more to say.



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Legion02

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“Miss Krogh.” The older doorman of the apartment complex at which Hel arrived greeted her with a small, almost grandfatherly smile. Hel returned it, though made sure to keep her distance a little. The night air felt chilly, but it wouldn’t be nearly as chilly as a handshake from her. That was not something she wanted to invite. “He is home.” The man continued before he opened the door for her.

“Thank you Oswald.” She said with a smile as she stepped inside. Expensive buildings had a way to make it feel warm without letting you feel a real transition from the outside. Unlike most, Fenrir did not have a front door you could knock on. That was a shame. There was something about knocking that used to make visits feel so much more personal. Though Hel really didn’t want to buzz her brother’s intercom and spoil the surprise like that. “Oswald, dear. Could you help me with something?”
~

Hel could barely feel the elevator slow down. It was such a smooth ride. The first time she visited she thought the thing was broken. Then she stepped outside and saw the view. A ding heralded someone’s arrival in Fenrir’s home. The goddess’ heels announced who it was.

---------------

"Suck on that J!" Fen smirked, nudging his sibling playfully in the side as King Boo raced across the finishing line, placing him firmly in first place. This was ignoring the fact that she had completely obliterated him in the previous two races and that, he suspected, was with her going easy on him. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll get you next time!” Jorm chuckled, a grin easily finding its way onto her face at his antics. Tossing the controller onto the opposite side of the large corner sofa, the wolf god was leaning to wrap his lithe fingers around a bottle of beer when the doorbell abruptly rang.

"Precisely on time as always." He winked at Jörmungandr before hopping up, taking a swig of beer as he strolled towards the wooden apartment door. It was a surprisingly lengthy walk, space being one of the things that had been a must when he'd been searching for somewhere to live. It just happened that spacious apartments also tended to be luxury ones. Pulling the door open, he immediately embraced the goddess with an enthusiastic hug. Though she was icy cold to the touch, he tended to run on the hot side, so it sort of balanced out...even if he did have to suppress a mild shiver. "Hel! Come in! Beer? Mario Kart?" He offered as he walked ahead of her, already heading to the fridge to look for more refreshments.

“Heya sis! Come take a load off!” she called out from her comfy spot, the controller having been switched out for a bottle though it was quickly discarded all the same in favor of hopping over the back of the couch and wrapping her sister into a constrictive hug. She knew that Hel wouldn’t hug her back but was determined to show that some touching wasn’t the end of the world. It was the hope that someday, she would stop being so afraid and go a little more on the wild side, take a risk. Jorm let go after a few seconds, practically leading Hel to the kitchen by keeping an arm around her shoulder as they walked. “Tell us how the shitfest went while we wait on the stew to finish! No one gave you too much trouble right?”

The goddess was – as always – surprised by the sudden embrace. She didn’t return it. Though in her heart it pained her. She just hoped, every time, that her brother would understand her own strange beliefs. Not that she truly had ever explained them to her siblings. They all had their strange quirks, a result of the injustice done to them. “Water.” She quickly followed up on her brother’s summing up. Helheim was not a place of beer or mead. There was no celebration there. Its denizens subsisted on fresh spring water alone. It wouldn’t make for a party, but then again they weren’t worthy of Valhalla or Fólkvangr. So fresh water would do.

She smiled at her older sister’s invitation to ‘take a load off’. Jormungandr always told her to relax. Not that the goddess of the graceless dead ever could. For millennia she was duty bound. No amount of time on earth could ever change that. None the less the invitation – given every time she and her older sister met – was well appreciated. It showed that despite how Hel was, her siblings still cared. After all, the goddess was well aware that the not returning of physical affections made her a hard person to like, let alone love.

Just like with Fenrir, Hel did not return Jorm’s hug. Though she did give her sister the biggest smile she could give. Not that it was very big, really. A colleague once told her that her smiles had something melancholic behind them. As if they had some deep sadness behind them. She never really gave it much thought.

Then her sister mentioned the luncheon. Her demeanor shifted ever so slightly. Few would recognize it, but her siblings would. Something made her deeply unhappy. “Macaria and Zagreus suffered the true death.” Hel said. She remained just inside of her brother’s apartment, near the front door. “They fell from the skylight but were dead before they hit the ground and… did not rise again. They are gone. Seemingly forever.” She said. The goddess of the dead did not move. She wasn’t sure how well her siblings knew either of the dead deities, but in times of grief it was best to give the information straight, correct and without too much emotion. So those who heard the information could freely feel their own emotions. Sadly, that meant that Hel had to hide and suppress her own feelings. Luckily enough she was very well practiced in doing so.

Unlike her sister, always one to control her emotions and suppress them, Jormungandr was the very opposite. She was an open book, everything written on her sleeve and her words sometimes punctuated with harsh truth so when she heard of the two immortal deaths, it froze her in place. She felt cold seep into her veins that had nothing to do with Hel’s temperature and everything to do with the rush of fear and concern. If someone or…something had killed immortals then none of them were safe. The two that she loved, that were in arms reach…could be taken from her again but this time no reunion to be had or looked forward to. The others that she cherished that were not present could be in danger. ”H-How could this have happened?! This shouldn’t be possible.”, she wheezed, horror and panic etched into every word as she began to shake as she held herself. She didn’t know the two lost but their names were definitely locked into her brain now. She couldn’t imagine what their family was feeling. Family. ”Where is father?! Hati?! Everyone? W-We need to call them. Are they safe?” Jorm might dislike the Aesir, some on the border of hate but they were still her pantheon.

Fenrir passed Hel a glass of water before leaning against the marble countertop, silently observing his two sisters as the news was broken. Sharp blue eyes, always intense even when he didn't mean to be, watched for the subtle or not so subtle (in Jorms case) changes in their body language.

"Dead Greeks. Well that's going to be a shitstorm..." The wolf eventually piped up, a small sigh escaping his lips. If it had been any other pantheon maybe there could have been a semblance of moderation in their reaction. But with the Greeks, he was sure that would not be the case. "Any god or goddess who thinks they're still invulnerable is mad. Even assholes like Odin barely have any influence now, beyond the small worlds we've created around ourselves." Fen wasn't trying to be cynical but his fall from...no it definitely hadn't been grace. His fall from one hellscape to another had left him under no illusions about how weak they all now were.

Moving over to Jorm, he clapped a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. "But anyway, two dead deities does not a Ragnorak make." He shrugged nonchalantly, trying to hide his own uncertainties. If this was Ragnorak, it was better than the prophecies had stated. He for example, was by no means capable of consuming the entire world.

"So...how exactly did they die?" He asked as he turned back to Hel, shaking off thoughts of eating Odin before raising a questioning eyebrow. Fen didn't want to care, in fact he wanted to remain firmly planted in the shadows, but he couldn't help but feed that small well of curiosity that rose up inside of him.

Something inside of Hel – a more human side perhaps – wanted to rush over and hug her panicking sister. It hurt the goddess to see Jorm like that but there was nothing she could really do and a hug would only make things worse probably. So she kept her distance. As always. “Father is still safe when he left the luncheon. Though I couldn’t figure out where he would be going.” She omitted the fact that she had gone up the roof herself a bit later instead. And that she had visited the morgue instead of following Loki. Still, if there was ever a divine who could weasel his way out of a dangerous situation it would be her father. “Hati is working with Athena.” She continued to explain. “So he is safe as well.” Hel didn’t care for the rest of the Norse. Only the blood Loki counted for her.

As always Fenrir came out exceedingly cynical. Hel expected it. There was no point in engaging it. Not really. Then he asked his question. “They were cut down.” Hel said matter-of-factly. “After that they fell through the skylight of the club down to the floor. Everyone expected them to rise up again but.. well. That did not happen. Cuts could be seen. Though nothing that shouldn’t heal.” Her eyes darted over her two siblings. The point was easily made. “There is a weapon out there that can kill gods.” Just for a second, a moment, Hel’s heart quickened. Just the thought that such a weapon really existed made her excited. Yet she couldn’t show that. Not even to her siblings.

“That does leave the matter of the Ambrosia.” Hel quickly changed subject to what she thought to be more important in the moment. “Hera was smart enough to give everyone in attendance for the luncheon their apple. Persephone might be a bit preoccupied with giving them out now.” She removed the top of the whiskey tube and pulled out the Fruit of the Tree of Life. “I kept it for you.” She gently put it towards Fenrir. Then she turned towards Jormungandr. “You should probably ask Hebe for yours. Things are heating up, so don’t wait too long. Okay?”

Jorm nodded to her brother, feeling more stable with his hand on her shoulder. It was a physical reminder that she was not alone and they were in this together. ”As long as you are sure they are safe.”, Jorm replied, grateful that the people she cared about most were most likely out of harm's way. She didn’t like the explanation any better than when her sister had simply said other immortals had perished. A weapon? An actual killer of immortals? How was this even possible? She was fearful for who would be next or if it was someone close to them all out to get other immortals. The change in conversation was much needed and openly accepted, happy to just put that mess and fear behind until more answers became clear. ”I think the Greeks are probably gonna have their hands full for a while and a year added to my age isn’t gonna kill me. I’ll hit her up whenever I see her next if I remember to do so. I know she sometimes goes to Acropolis parties and I’ll be dead before I get caught going into Odin’s building or whatever.”

Fenrir took the apple in his hand, tossing it idly in the air before catching it once more. Was this a chain of sorts? He could never truly leave, never truly be away from the Aesir with their immortality threatened so easily. "You sure?" He glanced at Jorm, "I'd happily go give cyclops a visit." Fen grinned wolfishly, pointed canines bared as if in threat before they sunk into the apples soft flesh.

"But anyway, this talk of dead gods is boring me." He spoke up once he had finished his snack. It was boring him, that was true. And he had not failed to miss the almost imperceptible and brief change in Hel’s presence as she'd spoken of the weapon. She had no reason to kill any Greeks, though he was certain the keeper of Helheim would use it on Odin if she got a chance. Wrapping his arms around the shoulders of both his sisters, he pulled them closer. "I want to hear all about what my lovely sisters have been up to. I want tales of draugr Hel and the tallest building you have jumped off recently Jormungandr."

Hel managed to quickly free herself from Fenrir’s second embrace. She enjoyed them a lot, but it was better to not get used to them. It did worry her that Jorm seemed so nonchalant about aging a year. Well, she was planning to see Hebe anyway. Hopefully, the charitable goddess would give her two apples. If not well, Hel was the youngest. A year would do less to her than to Jorm she reckoned.

But then it happened. She turned her head towards the glass windows. There were whispers coming through. Only the goddess of the graceless dead could hear them. She stepped towards the window. The whispers became hoarse voices. Their words and meaning were just under the surface. A flat hand reached out towards the cold glass.

Hel’s eyes went wide in shock and surprise. ”I have to go.” She said. Her voice was shaking. She rushed over towards the hallway. “Jorm, get your apple!” She shouted at her sister before leaving.

”Wait!…And she is gone…..what just happened?”, she asked, looking at Fen utterly confused before sighing and shaking her head. It seems family time would have to wait, well, at least with all of them anyway. ”Oh nevermind, I’m pulling off the stew. Don’t know about you but I’m starvin’.”
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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Hey Im Jordan
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Hey Im Jordan Ichi, Ni, San

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Location: Various
Mentions: A fair amount
Interactions: Persephone, Hades, Athena & Nike @Aewin, @sly13, @metanoia, @Fabricant451


Earlier


When she woke up, she first realized two things: Clark Rogers was nowhere near her. The second thing? The second thing was somehow even more disappointing. During the night, the lights were set for the mood, and she’d hardly paid attention to the room. But now? Now, she saw it in plain view: Clark Rogers was a nerd. Like many of his fans, she had convinced himself that his air of nerdiness in interviews had simply been a facade to sell the role to fans of the source material. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be the case.

She sat up in the bed and clutched the blanket to her chest, frowning a bit as she stared across the way toward a massive oak slab of a desk, more specifically she was gazing at the huge poster that hung on the wall above it. There was a typewriter on the desk, one that looked like it belonged on the set of a period piece, and not in the home of an incredibly affluent actor. There was a piece of paper on it, with some lettering typed on it, and the raven-haired woman drew herself from the bed and walked toward the desk, picking the paper up and reading the words typed on it.

.03 Seconds: A Memoir

The greatest mistake I ever made was putting a wedge between myself and my brothers. I think, in my long list of regrets, it’s the largest one. Jake Joseph John has hardly spoken more than a word to me in years. Why would he though? Back then, I thought he was lesser than me, and for that I sent him down to take the job no one else wanted. The truth is, no one else could have done the job. Let alone as well as he did. Alan Arthur Atlas (???) and I never got along. It was almost always a fight from birth forward… Does he really believe I’ve changed? I need to believe he does, or this whole effort is really for nothing. I don’t even know where to begin with my childr—


With a start, she dropped the paper as she heard a voice coming down the hallway…

A good workout was the start to a good day. That was something Nike had told him, a long time ago. Of course, back then, she’d been trying to drag Zeus out of his funk. Often, he found himself wondering if it upset or frustrated her that despite all her efforts, it had been the written word of mortals that had ultimately made him think there was a chance. He liked to assume she was just happy for him, regardless of how he got out of it. One day, he’d repay her for the effort she wasted on him. One day.

Having had that ‘good workout,’ Zeus was confident he was on the path to a good day. Between the five mile run and the weight lifting he’d busted out, the Almighty was feeling pretty damn good. It was barely 7 A.M., but the god of the sky was feeling… loose, limber, lubed up. Ready for the day that was laid out before him! It was going to be pretty straight forward: arrive, eat apple, flirt with cute Aztec goddesses, and leave before Hera registered his presence. As much as he wanted to repair his relationships with the members of his Pantheon, Zeus wasn’t sure the house of Zeus would survive another Zeus and Hera interaction. The relationships he was working on rebuilding already felt like a glass house… seeing his ex-wife just seemed like throwing a massive boulder at it.

With a towel loosely wrapped around his neck, he was heading back to his bedroom with music blasting in his headphones. Used to being alone in the house, Zeus had lost himself in the groove. As he neared the door, the drum part came on… and he couldn’t help himself. Flailing his arms in a way to mimic how he’d once seen Apollo play back in the old times, Zeus bellowed. “Bodoop badoop, bodoo doop doo doo!” He froze as he looked into the room, staring at the woman he’d hooked up with the night before. A finger tapped the earbud, and the music stopped in a most dissatisfying moment.

Zeus frowned. “You’re still here? Uh, please leave.” It didn’t even register how rude it sounded. Generally, Zeus was pretty well spoken and charismatic, but he was caught off guard.He wasn’t used to seeing his hookups the morning after… Usually, Nike got rid of the trash for him while he was off clanging and banging in the iron paradise. He thought about what to say next, but before he found the words, he noticed the sheet of paper at her feet, and how his typewriter was empty. This only made him furrow his brow more. It was going to be hard to set the fucking thing right where it belonged. “Do you often touch things that don’t belong to you?” He asked, bending down to pick the piece of paper up and set it on the desk as he eyed the woman over his shoulder, a smile so short it might as well have been a smirk on his lips.

“Oh, uhm… you have brothers? And… kids?” The woman who had managed to slither her way into Clark Rogers’s bed considered herself to be a superfan. She would know that kind of thing. “It’s your memoir… right?” She asked, knowing she was being pushy. Especially considering he’d just asked her to leave, but that wasn’t going to stop her. If she could get just a single answer out of him… it would be worth it to gush about it on tumblr.

Zeus chuckled in response to the woman’s question, and shook his head. “Kids? You could say that - I have ninety-two.” The woman laughed in response to the absurdity of his answer, but Zeus shook his head and stayed insistent. “No, for real! What you don’t understand is that I’m the god of the sky. Zeus, the lord of Olympus… No, not lord, he somewhat scoffed the word, as if the title of ‘lord’ were beneath him. “I am Zeus, King of everything. I’m writing my memoirs because I want to share how I feel with my family. My brothers, Hades and Poseidon haven’t looked at me as their equal - let alone their better - in years.” She laughed again, and Zeus couldn’t help but crack a smile. She didn’t believe him, why would she? What he was saying… to a mortal’s ears, it probably sounded insane. “Don’t laugh! John and Atlas are simply the mortal names they took. Disguises to be tossed aside once we regain our divine powers. I’ll need a queen when I take up my throne on Mount Olympus once again. Perhaps you’re up to the task?”

She hadn’t stopped laughing the entire time he’d been speaking. In her mind, she’d realized the truth. Once he finished his proposal, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You’ve taken on a new acting role, haven’t you! That’s so exciting, it’s great news… will you still be doing this other, uhm, project? If you’re writing a memoir in character, I bet it’s a pretty big project… you probably won’t be available for this! I might be your last one.”

Zeus frowned again. He hadn’t expected her to believe him, but… she seemed so self-centered. Is that what he had seemed like to his fellow deities? By Odin’s beard… It’s no wonder they hold such a low opinion of me. After he’d sobered up and had a chance to get to know Odin, Zeus had pretty quickly taken up the habit of saying ‘by Odin’s beard.’ They were of similar standing, and Zeus had a deep respect for him. “Well, now that you’ve figured me out, I hope you — “ His cellphone rang, and he took a quick glance at the caller ID before he put it to his ear without much hesitation. This call was important. “Hello? Of course I’ll be there. Yes. Yes. I always do. Okay, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up and looked at the woman with a somewhat disappointed smile. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave. I’ll have my driver take you wherever you want to go, okay?”

Though she was disappointed, she nodded. At least he hadn’t frowned at her again.



Later


Carefully, Zeus picked a piece of lint off of the suit he wore, and flicked it to the side as he headed toward the building, dressed in full costume for his most iconic role: Superman. The man at his side was speaking, maybe to him, or maybe to the bluetooth earpiece he wore, but Zeus’s mind was in the clouds as it often was.

Why was there lint on his super suit? Zeus paid his assistants handsomely to make sure that everything was perfect. He wanted to put on a killer performance, every time. And yet? Lint. Right on the fucking S.

“You know, Clark, you don’t have to do this… Wouldn’t your time be better spent, I dunno, letting me get you actual acting roles?”

Those words pulled Zeus back down to reality almost immediately and he shook his head. “What, are you kidding me? Of course I have to do this. Superman would do this, and I am Superman. I have to do this.” He shook his head. His agent wasn’t really willing to forgive him for publicly announcing his retirement from acting at the height of his career. And then, when Zeus wanted to do charity cases like this? “Come on, my man. For the love of the game?” He asked with a warm smile, flashing his perfectly white teeth.

His agent couldn’t help but sigh and give the slightest of smiles and a shake of his head, “Fine. For the love of the game. Look, Clark, I gotta run for a meeting. She’ll meet you inside and take you where you need to go, okay? I got some new scripts for you to look over, I’ll send them your way… check your damn email.” He waved, and turned to leave. Before he was even three steps away, he was already talking into his earpiece again about something that didn’t matter.

Zeus liked it better when his agent wasn’t around anyway. He let him leave, giving him a chance to say something else if he was going to… then turned his attention to the sliding glass doors that awaited him. He stepped through and to the counter, tapping on the table to get the attention of the busy woman seated behind it. Before he could even speak, the nurse beat him to it. “...Clark Rogers?” She asked, almost apprehensively. It was clear she wasn’t sure about this, but that was a feeling Zeus was used to. He caught it from all angles… his family, his children, deities from the other pantheos, and now? Even the mortals didn’t seem happy to see him.

“Yep, that’s me.” Though this might have been her first rodeo, it sure wasn’t his. As Clark Rogers, Zeus had granted hundreds of wishes for the Make-A-Wish foundation at children’s hospitals across the United States. Being dragged to Seattle for the yearly festival just gave him a chance to do it here. Many of the other deities didn’t seem to care about the mortals, but Zeus couldn’t help himself.

As the nurse stopped in front of the room where he was going to be meeting the child, Zeus looked inside the bag he was carrying, checking that the gifts he’d brought the child were ready to go. Of course, Zeus wasn’t just going to show up to say high in character and then run off. He looked at the nurse, who nodded, and then he took a breath before he stepped inside the room, closing the door behind himself.

Interacting with the patients who were likely terminal was more difficult than he’d thought it would be. In Zeus’s mind, a lot of the modern day problems could likely be traced to the Fall. There had been a time where he could have called Apollo and solved all the medical problems in the building, but today? Today they had no power, and all he could do was offer a shoulder and an ear. With a smile, Zeus approached the bed with the frail child in it, holding out a hand for a shake.

“I heard you wanted to meet me?” He asked, and the young boy looked him up and down and frowned. It stung when they still seemed distant, but it was Zeus’s job to make them smile before he left. He pulled his hand back, and instead reached inside the bag he held, pulling out the gaming console he’d purchased. “Do you want to play? We’ll have fun.”

“You’re not the real Superman, are you?”

Zeus hadn’t been expecting that kind of sass from such a small, frail child. It kind of made it hit a little harder. He held out the Nintendo Switch, nodding toward it, “Oh yeah? What makes you so sure of that? Don’t I look like Superman?” Zeus knew perfectly well that he looked like Superman, especially with the smile on his lips. He watched as the kid opened up the Nintendo Switch, and he kept talking. “I am Superman, you know. I’ve saved the day countless times, I’m just not the Superman you know. He fights Lex Luthor… me? I fought a cyclops, a giant, my brother… Just as epic as a fight against Darkseid, I’d say. Besides, don’t I look good in the costume?”

As Zeus bragged about the glory days, he veered off on a bit of a self-centered comment. That sort of thing seemed to always happen when he spoke, but he barely even noticed. Continuing his rambles, he only stopped when the child spoke again. “This is dead. I can’t even play it.” Zeus paused. The child clearly either wasn’t listening, or didn’t care about what he had to say about the good old days, but he found himself wondering what would happen if he flexed just a little bit. If Hera found out, he’d never hear the end of it.

Showing off might make the kid smile… that was well worth the risk. Besides, he’d already risked blowing their cover twice today - once with the woman who was in his home, and once with the child already. “Never fear, Superman is here.” He smiled, and held out a finger. Zeus concentrated, and a tiny burst of electricity appeared over his finger. The child’s expression immediately warped from disappointment and sadness to one of wonderment. Zeus knew he had him in the palm of his hand now.

He bounced the lightning bolt up and down off his index finger, smiling as he watched the child’s eyes follow it up and down. He didn’t say a word, he was saving that. He pinched the lightning bolt between his two fingers, and threw it toward the Nintendo Switch. There was a quiet shock sound, and then the Switch came to life in the child’s hand and Zeus watched the expression of awe carefully. “See? I told you. I’m Greek Superman.”

“How… how did you do that?”

“The Last Son of Krypton. Make sure you keep my secret, alright?”

“Thank you Mr. Superman!”

After that happened, it was easier for Zeus to chat and talk with the child. The energy and the air in the room had changed - and for the most part, he managed to not talk about himself for too long. When he finally left, the child was all smiles and laughter as he walked out of the door and looked over his shoulder, putting a finger to his lips to remind the child to keep the secret and when he nodded, Zeus smiled and looked to the nurse who was waiting diligently outside of the room. “What did you do…? I haven’t heard him laugh in weeks…” She asked as they walked away, and Zeus shook his head.

“I can’t reveal my secrets, can I?”



The Present


Having to run back home to change caused Zeus to be later than he wanted to be. There was hardly going to be any time to hit on any of the other pantheon’s goddesses, and he was probably going to miss his own children. The festival was the only time he got to speak to some of them. Mostly, because they hated him and ignored him. But he was working on that!

Still, something was off as he sent his car off with the valet and approached the festival. It was quieter than it normally was, and the energy was wrong. He couldn’t explain it, not until he saw the congregation of people crowded around something, and heard the shouting. The king of Olympus was late, but he wasn’t a fool. He could smell it in the air, the blood of the divine. His heart sank as he approached the circle and he realized who was dead. It was his grandchildren.

Zeus had seen his family die before, but for some reason this was different. Before, there was always the chance they would come back, but felt… final, like there was no way to come back from this. Zeus was having trouble understanding the different emotions exploding in his chest. Rage, sadness, confusion, frustration. If he felt this way, he couldn’t imagine how Persephone felt.

That thought brought Zeus back to reality, and he looked around. He didn’t see her or her husband anywhere - nor did he see Athena. He knew she would have already jumped on this, who else was going to solve this case? He stepped away from the commotion, and pulled out his phone. His finger flew across the letters as he sent messages out.

To: Persephone
I know you’re going through a lot right now. If you need me, tell me.


The first and most important went to Persephone. The second to her husband, and that was much more simple.

To: Hades
I’m with you. We’ll get them together


And finally…

To: Athena & Nike
When are we going to meet?


With those out of the way, Zeus ran a hand through his hair and dropped his phone in his pocket. Once he had more details, he’d figure out what his move was. He wasn’t about to start tearing the world apart trying to figure it out himself - that was the Zeus of old. The new Zeus would at least give Athena a day to figure something out.
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Hidden 2 mos ago 2 mos ago Post by Danvers
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Danvers boo

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The Morrigan will admit that she had, at first, been too preoccupied to even notice the bodies. And the whails of despair. It wasn't her fault. It really was very hard to concentrate when your mind was trying to rip itself into three pieces. Anand had tried to claw her way out, bloodlust drumming through their body. Seeking, wanting, needing. "So much blood, I want to-" The voice purred, low and sultry. It wrapped around their body like a snake, waiting to squeeze, to bite. To free itself. So much chaos would make it easy to take control. They just needed to-

"Be quiet. I'm trying to think." Badb snapped, quieting the other voice. She looked every part the socialite she was, posture straight, legs crossed, eyes unwavering. Her dress was flowy and pink and very Macha. "But it's so pre-" It was unfortunate that by the time she'd realised the sovereign goddess had dressed them, she was already running late. "I said shut up." Badb muttered. Her gaze cold, the celts attention was drawn to a mortal rushing past, phone in hand as they frantically began to dial 911. Well that wouldn't do.

"I don't think you should do that." A hand shot out, gripping onto the mortals forearm, neatly manicured nails digging deep into the soft flesh. The waiter yelped in pain, dropping the phone, which Badb easily caught before depositing it into a nearby glass of red wine. His face fell, surprise drowning out the agony pulsing through him. "Now off with you. Let the adults handle this." She snapped, disdain dripping from her words like venom. The mortal muttered and fumbled with his hands, opened his mouth once...twice, saw the stare that was being fixed upon him, and left.

The crowd in the room had begun to thin, gods and mortals alike frantically leaving, for even being near death was abhorrent to so many of them. Badb instead stepped closer to the bodies, lifting up her dress so not as to drench the ends in blood. It stained the marble floor, seeping into cracks where even the most diligent of cleaners would have difficulty reaching. She had never seen death as peaceful. It was bloody and violent and terrifying. It was beautiful. Delicious.

Deep brown eyes took in the forms of the corpses. A senseless giggle escaped her lips but stopped almost as soon as it had started. "I will murder us all if you continue." Badb muttered. It was not easy to maintain control when the stench of death permeated everything. Her body tensed, and she closed her eyes, slowing her breathing as she wrestled with the snake. If you don't let me do this, we can never get our revenge. The snake hissed and snapped, but was unable to uncoil itself in this place. It would be patient for longer, even if it did not want to be.

Finally, she relaxed. A hand reached over to the goddess Macaria, whom had been gifted with overseeing those lucky enough to receive a blessed death. Ironic really. Badb let the breath slowly leech out of her body, a prolonged sigh, the room around her falling away like pieces of a broken jigsaw puzzle. The present disappeared, and her mind grasped for something else. It was peaceful in these moments, for this power was not the domain of Anand or Macha, it was hers and hers only to wield. In this place she was the hooded crow once more.

Jet black wings flapped and she took flight, until she landed in a forest of bone white trees. The past, present and future were not like people thought. They were entangled, like new lovers, difficult to seperate. Once she could easily grasp ahold of these strands of fate but now, she pondered as she hopped onto a small branch of one tree in particular, all she had was half truths.

It was easy still to find the right tree. Without contact to the person themselves, or something precious to their heart, she could not land upon their boughs. The goddess waited patiently, until a pool appeared at the foot of the tree. Its waters were dark and seemingly endless. The crows head tilted as beady eyes watched the eerily still surface. Time did not exist in this place and she did not feel the passage of it. It was simply there, to be peered at but no more. It would not do to swim in its depths, though many had tried and failed.

After both forever and never, ripples appeared, and with it, flashes of half-truths.

Ⱥ հօօժҽժ ƒìցմɾҽ. Ƒąçҽ մղʂҽҽղ.

Ⱥ ʂաօɾժ, ąղçìҽղէ. འմղҽʂ çąɾѵҽժ ʂҟìӀӀƒմӀӀվ ìղէօ ìէʂ ʂմɾƒąçҽ.


Ⱥ քɾօէҽçէօɾ...էհօմցհ ղօէ ƒօɾ Ӏօղց.


The crow ruffled its feathers in annoyance as the pool and trees of this windless place disappeared. Badb removed her hand from the now cold body, eyes narrowing. What was she supposed to do with that?

Kill, kill, kill.

I hate you.
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KZOMBI3 thuggy-lewd-dere

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Together Again

location: Denmark Seattle
interactions: Týr & Sif @Danvers
mentions: Odin | Thor | Others




This was not the place where Týr wanted to most be. It was the season of the Festival and here he was in some hovel in Denmark overseeing some potential artifact discovery for the "good of the company". He scoffed. What a load of shit. Odin would be sitting amongst company of the most questionable degree, sipping champagne and eating hors d'oeuvres, kicking back and relaxing in ways that Týr wished he could divulge in.

The life of a second fiddle. Honor and justice indeed.

A twisted grin replaced the sour look on his rugged face as he pulled out his phone and dialed the Allfather's number. It rang only three times before he picked up. "Hey there chief. Just wanted to update you on the latest information on this artifact for you. No, no, don't worry, everything is going according to plan. Better even," He bent the truth just a little. He had yet to see this object in all it's glory, the thing currently being in transport as he stood there with his business partner and long standing friend. "It will make a fine addition to the collection."

His goal was to keep him on the phone long enough that it would ruin, even a tiny bit, of his Festival enjoyment. It was only right to do since Odin sent him on this fools' errand specifically to get him away from the event. What was the harm in a little payback? Nothing ever exciting ever takes place at those things anyways. Especially with Hera running the show. Why did they allow that? A question requiring an answer for another time, he mused to himself as his gift of gab continued to keep Odin on the phone. 'The longer the better.

The cargo truck finally pulled up the dirt road he stood on, the sun casting it's final rays over the horizon creating a serene landscape for him to enjoy on company time. Opening the large crate before him he stared in wonder at the sight, "Look big guy, I've got to go now, but they did mention something about paperwork for you to fill out once I bring this bad boy back to the office. I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle," the smirk was evident in his voice and he was position Odin could see it just as much as he could definitely hear it. "Catch you in a few!" And with that he promptly ended the call before moving to examine the priceless piece brought to him. It was a tricky position he had found himself in. Or rather... it was unwelcome. He wanted to be there among his godly peers, enjoying the ambrosia he waited an entire year to taste once more.

It wasn't fair that he was to be sent like some errand boy to fetch a parcel for his high and mighty ruler. But as is the relationship between the two of them. Nothing was ever the same when Odin usurped him on Asgard, or in the event of the loss of his hand by Fenrir - and that was after he had built a fondness for the beast; another thing Odin could not tolerate - though they were close; closer than Odin was with any of his other sons that is, the bond wasn't truly as strong as it was before. Týr always had this inkling in the back of his mind that Odin did not trust the Bringer of Justice; his paranoia always seemed to be placed in the forefront of his mind, though Týr had never given him any reason to think so.

Picking up the sheathed blade that lay atop a bed of dried hay, Týr could feel himself being transported back in time. A time when he ruled his domain and no one stood against them. No one stood against him. His blade returned to him at long last. It was all making sense now as to why Odin sent him. To have this marvelous piece of magic'd steel in his hands once more. It was enough to tug at his heart strings - just for a moment - before he composed himself and placed the weapon back into the box. "It's perfect."



Even for Denmark the land was a desolate one. No cities lay close and the nearest village, which most would drive to, was only made up of a few houses & a farm. It wasn't exactly a place one would choose to visit, the absence of man made sounds reflecting this. Wind whipped through a small cluster of spruce trees, forcing a sleeping owl from its perch. Below the door of an extremely out of place looking pod slowly opened, hinges creaking from misuse. Most of the land around it had been excavated, leaving the device looking eerily similar to a crashed alien ship. There were dints and dents hinting at places where mortals had tried & failed to open it, rusting tools littered about the ground. The door uttered a final groan before failing to open fully. As it ground to a stop, a lethargic hand reached up to ease it the rest of the way. Steam curled in the cold air, rising as a figure sat up, long hair draped around their slim frame. Eyes blinked drowsily at first, before widening as their mind began to wake. Dreams and nightmares fell away like rocks from an eroding cliff, and Sif was violently forced back into the land of the living. Sitting there naked, she shivered, utterly exposed to the elements. Her face was a picture of confusion and fear, one which was mimicked perfectly by her hair as it faded from one colour to the next.

"Shh, munu quiet hárr!" Sifs hands ran through her disobedient locks of hair, gripping onto the ends anxiously. "Þú're svá annoying!" She exclaimed. Frowning as she looked around at the nothingness, she felt tears begin to well up in her eyes, threatening to spill over onto her cheeks. Sif brushed them away, taking deep breaths to calm herself. She couldn't cry now, it wouldn't do anything to help. Stop it, stop it, stop it. It would be more than embarrassing if someone found her in such a state.

Hair still flashing every colour of the rainbow, Sif stood up. Thankfully her hair remained extremely long and at least gave her a minute amount of dignity, even if it did look like she was trying to mimic the aurora borealis. Stepping out of the...chamber she'd been in, she looked around hesitantly. Had Ragnorak happened? No, she wouldn't be alive if that was true and she was pretty sure that she was still alive. Was this another trick of Loki’s? Maybe, she wouldn't put it past the trickster to do something so mean. But if that was the case surely Thor would be looking for her. As it was though, she was thoroughly alone and she knew she had to do something. So, she began to walk.

The soles of her feet quickly became black with dirt and dust as she walked through the empty expanse. Rocks and stones were hard against her bare skin but she continued on, ignoring the pain of fresh cuts and scrapes. She hummed to herself as she kept her stride, trying and failing to soothe her hair. Suddenly, shapes began to appear in the distance. Letting out what could only be described as a squeak of excitement, she quickened her pace, making her way over to the makeshift tents (though Sif initially did wonder if they were just weird shaped hills).

Peering through a gap in the material, the earth goddess let out a sigh of relief when she realized there was no-one there. There were small beds, stacked wooden boxes and...there! She ran over to one of the beds, lifting up a piece of clothing. The goddess didn't recognise it as anything they would've worn on Asgard and the small circles stumped her for a few minutes. Chewing down on her bottom lip in concentration, she eventually managed to figure out the complicated contraption. Pulling on what she would later find out was a men's shirt, she secured the circles in place once more. Sif looked down at herself, glad to see that it just managed to hang past her buttocks. Guess it's better than nothing. She also tried on some of the shoes but they were far too big and she was used to walking around barefoot anyway.

Her curiosity quickly got the better of her and she sat down cross-legged on the ground as she began to look through the rest of the belongings, frowning at the strange collection of objects. "Þessi jörð er strange..." She muttered to herself as she held up a small rectangular box, poking it and getting no response. It didn't seem magic. Cautiously biting the end, she stuck out her tongue in revulsion at its awful taste. Not edible either. Pressing a sticky out bit on the side, she yelped and dropped the box when it suddenly burst alive with a flash of light and noise.

"Þat eigmunur magic..." She pondered after realizing it wasn't going to imminently explode, poking at it cautiously with her foot and hoping it was not the work of a dark and evil sorceress.

Things were moving smoothly, smooth enough that he would be able to hop on the jet as early as that evening. With a bit of luck and the wind on his side he might even be able to squeeze some ambrosia from Persephone in the near future. Things were definitely looking up for the Justice Bringer.

Bidding farewell to the mortals delivering the goods to him, Týr happily made his way back towards his tent, intending to gather up his belongings for the nonstop flight back home. Home. It was weird to think that that place was home and not something more opulent in views. Like the forests surrounding the countryside where he currently found himself. He missed the homeland where those who worshiped him once dwelled - those mortals few and far between nowadays. With a heavy sigh he looked out at the scenery before him, then turned on his heel like a well trained militiaman, and walked back into his temporary lodgings.

Upon entering, Týr was confronted with a sight that he hadn't been blessed with in over two thousand years. A woman half dressed, in his shirt no less, sitting cross legged on the ground trying to figure out the small contraption in her delicate hands. A chuckle escaped him, alerting her to his presence, "Gaman að sjá þig, Goldie~. það er búið að vera langur tími."

At the sound of his voice Sif haphazardly scrambled to her feet, a blush creeping up her face, hair momentarily turning pure white from shock. "Týr!" She exclaimed, pulling at the bottom of the shirt, which now felt impossibly short. Part of her desired to rush over and hug him. Maybe just because he was a familiar face but also because she had always wanted to. Instead, she jumped onto the nearest bed, pulling a rough woolen blanket fully over herself. "Don't look at me!" She stated demandingly as she realised exactly how embarrassing this situation was. No-one but Thor had ever seen her in such a state of undress. There was no way he wouldn't think her utterly ridiculous.

"...what are you doing here?" She finally mumbled after a few moments of silence, her breaths slowing to a resting pace as she remained hidden. Sif felt tears, of confusion and shame, well up in her eyes once again but she was quick to angrily brush them away.

Her mannerisms were just as cute as ever, so flustered and easily cornered. If things had been different… 'But they are different,' the little voice in the back of his head reminded him. There was the Fall, surely that negated the laws of marriage back in Asgard. No. This was his brother's wife. He couldn't think such things. Oh, but how easy it was, especially with her wearing one of his shirts, hiding beneath the covers of his cot.

Physically shaking impure thoughts from his mind he simply smiled at the goddess before him. ""I'm here on an errand for the Allfather. The real question, my dear, is what are you doing here? Where have you been?" There was a sense of urgent concern to his voice as he examined her as best he could with a sheet pulled up to her neck.

Sif was covered in dirt and a few scratches, most likely from wandering through the brush. Hair aglow in the most beautiful way, creating a halo around her. Týr was enamored, just as he was so very long ago. "Come, you need to bathe," he extended a hand to her, ""I won't peek, swear." He held a large hand out for her to take.

The goddess eyed Týr warily. Not because she didn't trust him but because he made her feel impossibly nervous. Looking at him, she realised that he looked different than she remembered, although she couldn't exactly pinpoint why. Still, he was right. Now that the adrenaline was no longer coursing through her system, she could feel the sting of the scrapes and scratches upon her feet.

Hiding her hands behind her back, Sif offered him a small, almost coy smile. "Okay, I'll bathe." She finally agreed, standing up as she hesitantly left the blanket behind her, allowing it to pool in a heap on the ground. She couldn't bring herself to take his own hand however, worried that it would set off her hair once more.

Stepping closer towards the god, Sif considered his earlier question. "I haven't been anywhere..." She frowned, uncertainty etched across her delicate features. Her nose scrunched up as she tried to recall her last memories but it was difficult, and she felt her mind clouding, unable or unwilling to differentiate dreams from reality. "I was on Asgard looking for Thor...and then I woke up here. I kind of assumed it was some trick of Loki's…"

He listened to her story, about how she dreamed of everything and nothing all at once. How she wasn’t sure she was in Asgard or some other plane of existence and Týr knew all too well what that meant for the goddess. He too spent his share of time in the frozen sleep, the frosinn svefn. He spent enough time in that chamber like prison to know how she was feeling, having just woken up and found herself in a strange new place; so unlike what they were used to so long ago.

Týr stood there, on the other side of the shower curtain, as crude as it was, adhering to his promise of not peeking as she showered the grit and grime off of herself. It was the least he could do. There wasn’t much in Denmark for them, other than the retrieval errand Odin sent him on. He would take her into town and get her some necessities before offering to take her back to the states where everyone was at.

At the mention of his brother’s name he stilled. There were things about this new Thor that he wasn’t sure Sif would enjoy hearing. ”Well, after you’re done in there…” he started, before laying out his plan for the two of them, ”We’ll hop on the plane tomorrow morning, at day break, and be back with the others in no time. What do you say?”

Gripping the side of the shower curtain, Sif peeked around it, eyes widening in a mix of excitement and trepidation. "I can see the others?" She paused. The water was warm and sent pleasant shivers through her as it dripped down her back. Her body ached less and she felt herself becoming more present. What he'd told her was still completely insane but at least she felt more herself. Plus she knew Týr wouldn't lead her astray...or at least the old Týr wouldn't have.

"Sure but um, just a couple of questions first maybe. What's a plane? And what was that strange box I was holding before?" Sif asked, leaning closer whilst still trying to maintain her dignity, curiosity once again getting the better of her. The goddess wasn't a naturally shy person and despite the fact that she was still entirely naked & in arms reach of him, she was starting to feel more comfortable. As long as she didn't think about Týr too much and the fact he had probably also used this shower. Naked. Definitely naked.

""Oh, and...do you have a towel?"



They had gone out into the small, modernized village not far from his campsite to purchase her more appropriate attire to wear; though if one were to ask him he would say there were no complaints at seeing her wearing his tunic and constantly trying to pull it further down her expanse of leg. It took a lot for him to focus up on things of pure and innocent nature.

Time seemed to have gotten away from the two Norse deities as Týr explained all that he could of the last two thousand years or so. It was a lot, that was no surprise, but he didn’t want to overwhelm the young goddess, there was still so much to show her and teach her about this new place that he didn’t want to ruin the excitement she was surely to have upon experiencing it herself. He would have stopped long ago but Sif had pleaded for him to continue, and so he had. There were few things that could sway the mind of the Justice Bringer - Lady Sif was high on that list. It had always been that way.

“Tell me, Goldie,” Týr began as he sat cross legged across from her in the private jet provided by Saga Antiquities, a glass of whiskey sitting on the small side table beside him. He was further from her than he would like, in reality they sat a perfect distance away, a reasonable, respectful distance - but there was something inside of him, calling out for her. A calling that he was having to constantly tamp down on. “What happened? What was the last thing you remember? What are you most looking forward to?”

Sif turned from the window, which she had been curiously peering out of, her expression a picture of awe. Once she had gotten over the fact they were flying impossibly high, higher even than the birds themselves, it was kind of fun. "What do I remember?" She pondered, a small frown of concentration marring her features.

"Well..." The last thing she could recall was looking for her husband. Týr hadn't mentioned the god of thunder and though she didn't know why, the thought of potentially seeing him felt like a heavy weight in her stomach. Two thousand years was so long, even for a god. Had he missed her? Had he forgotten about her? Not wanting to show her worries to Týr however, she simply smiled at him.

"Right before the fall I'd sort of decided that I didn't want to just be an earth goddess anymore. I wanted to try other things." She drew her legs up, chin resting atop her knees as she spoke. "I know it's dumb and that you can't change who you are...but I was bored." Sif felt guilty for admitting it and immediately she wanted to take the words back. The god of justice, always so by the book, would of course not approve.

"But what I want to do now is try some of that!" She pointed at the whiskey, keen to move onto more lighthearted matters. Her legs brushed against his own as she shuffled to the edge of her seat, curious about the liquid that was neither mead or beer. "And for you to tell me about yourself. All i know is that you're working for old one ey-...I mean Odin." The goddess grinned sheepishly at her slip of the tongue, gaze moving to meet his own. "I really am very curious about you…

He leaned forward on his knees, enjoying how close the two were. It filled him with a sense of home. Týr snorted at her name for Odin,it wasn't the worst one given to the old man and it wouldn't be the last time someone referred to him as such. The Lawbringer held out his glass for her to take, waiting to see her reaction to it, "Careful, it's not the same as mead. Not as sweet."

Carefully watching her, a smirk on his face he delved into answering her questions. It was only fair, "I can't fault you for growing bored. There is only so much to do, back then, before all of this," he gestured around them on the whole, "As far as working for 'old one eye'," another smirk shot in her direction, a show of good faith that he too could be more than stoic all the time, "It just made sense at the time. He needed me and I needed something to do. There was a time where I served in the military but eventually I grew bored of my domain and the… repetitiveness it provided."

Their time spent in the jet was well spent, conversing back and forth, discussing the wonders of what she had missed, and reminiscing of their home back in Asgard. The good and the bad. The limited interactions they had back then. He dared not speak of the longing looks he had then, only for her to be married off to his brother. It wasn't his place to covet what was not his to begin with. A struggle he's held on to for eons.

"How do you like the whiskey?" He nodded towards the glass in hand.

"It's..." She paused after taking another sip, before sticking out her tongue in a gesture of dislike. "I'm sorry! I...don't think it's for me." Sif passed the glass back to him, a contrite look about her. She didn't want to move away from him after but it was kind of silly for her to remain hovering on the edge of her chair in such a way.

"Thank you by the way...for helping me. I can't imagine what I would've done if you hadn't been there..." It hadn't taken her long to realise that the shirt had indeed been Týr's, a highly mortifying revelation. "I guess I'd probably still be naked." Her hair flashed bright pink for a second, hinting at her playfulness, prompting a shh from the goddess. It had never been this misbehaved before and it was starting to get highly annoying.

"So you like working for Odin?" Sif asked forthrightly, hands moving to idly plait, and contain, her disobedient locks.

Týr found her cheekiness endearing, even if she didn't want it out in the open. It was refreshing. "Not a bad sight to walk in on though," he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for her to hear. He pretended to cover it up with a cough before taking another sip of his glass. "Ah, yes, the dreaded Odin question," he mulled over what words to use to describe the intricate nature of their relationship. It wasn't the easiest to endure given their history together not only as father and son but when the Allfather decided to take the throne of Asgard for himself… well, Týr didn't put up much of a fight. Not that he didn't want to. It just wasn't in the cards for a victorious outcome for him. He wouldn't willingly walk into a battle that was entirely one sided; unless it was in favor of him.

"It's been difficult, but not everything is. Just being sent on errand missions is a little below my pay grade and expertise, but it is what it is. The fact that I was sent to Denmark must have been planned by the Nornir, wanting us to meet back up after so long. A pleasant surprise. I, We have missed you," he offered her a sincere smile over the top of his drink once more.

Sif was still trying to recover from his earlier comment, feeling like she must be blushing from head to toe. She'd buried into the oversized hoodie she was wearing, pretending that she was simply cold. Why, even after not seeing one another for so long, could he still prompt such an instant reaction from her.

"I guess I'll have to thank him too then." She added with a small laugh. Though it did seem unfair that Týr was being treated in such a way, even if he didn't appear to mind. Guess things hadn't changed too much.

"Um, I know you're probably super busy but maybe you could show me around sometime?" Sif asked after a few moments of silence, the goddess staring out of the window as the plane began to descend. Midgard sounded impossibly big now and the idea that, once they'd left the plane she might not see him again for a while, made her feel strangely sad. "Only if you have time of course…"

He smiled widely at her question, she hadn't changed much but he noticed that there was a spark within her threatening to be released. A notion within her that he recognized as one that was within him too; long ago. Standing up to stretch he held his palm out to her just as he did so many hours before. "Lady Sif, Goldie, I would be honored if you would accompany me around town. Will you grant me such a wish?" He bowed lightly, placing a chaste kiss to the back of her in the process and threw on the most atrocious sounding accent, all in the hopes of keeping that beautiful smile on her face. 'Just for a little longer,' he thought selfishly.

Her hair glowed golden and bright as she laughed, his play acting far more charming than any one god or person should be. "I will gladly accompany you Tuisto." She grinned, eyes twinkling with humour.

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𝖌𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖆 𝖌𝖔
𝖌𝖔𝖙𝖙𝖆 𝖌𝖔

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Olympic Club ⟶ Acropolis
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Phobos | Melinoë | Hercules | Apollo | Hebe
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬. Hades



There was no limit to her strength when it came to clawing her way back to her siblings’ lifeless bodies still there on the floor out in the open. Uncovered. Their deaths screamed out to her. Or it could have just been her own voice echoing off the walls. She didn’t know anymore and she didn’t give two shits. All she wanted to do was get to them and hold them tightly and never let go. Melinoë had made that mistake once before.

Phobos was instructed to grab and pull her back and if she were to stop and think about it she would have felt extremely apologetic for the blood she was drawing on his arms as he yanked her backwards away from the scene. But she couldn’t find it in her to care, or even acknowledge, anything else at the moment. The unburied dead called to her, in their voices. The hauntings were starting already and the sounds coming from her frame, terrified even her.

He gritted his teeth against the pain, tightening his grip around her waist so that he could lift her off the ground, pulling away from her two dead siblings. Only moments ago the heavy weight of fear had come crashing down upon his shoulders, the sheer physicality of it hauling him back to his days on the battlefield. Phobos felt a part of him ache at Melinoë's screams, like daggers in his chest, he wondered why he had never reacted this way to the wails of death before.

"I'm here Mel." He whispered almost imperceptibly, knowing and hoping that she would not hear him. Blood dripped from his arms but it was nothing. He was created for such terrors.

Apollo returned from his sister’s side, his face uncharacteristically grim. He was not accustomed to such a tragedy. The wails of Madness pierced him, drove ice through his veins. They needed to get her out of here, wrong as it felt to take her from her siblings. He stopped for a moment beside Hercules, sharing a worried look before he whispered, “I think you better pull the car around,” and continued towards Melinoë and Phobos.

Reading the room and understanding his role, Hercules nodded at Apollo. “Right. I’ll do that.” And find Hebe, of course. She’d probably want to come, too. So that’s what he did, leaving Mel in Phobos and Apollo’s capable hands.

He knelt beside the pair, meeting Phobos’ eyes and for a moment, sharing in his concern. They both cared for the goddess before them, different as they were. Whatever game Phobos’ might’ve interrupted between he and Mel, it was irrelevant right now. The best they could do was help. “Mel, we need to go. Please. Come back to the Acropolis, and we’ll talk.” He did not dare to spill what Artemis had shared with him. If she was right, and a Norse blade had claimed the lives of Zagreus and Macaria, then war was brewing. Secrets would have to wait for the privacy of his walls.

Melinoë heard without listening, so wrapped up in still trying to get away that nothing else, no words or gestures would soothe the wounds inflicted on her. Her wails had slowed at least, a good sign no one could be so sure, but it was a start. Her grip on Phobos wasn't as vice-like though she refused to remove herself from him entirely. Anything to keep her grounded lest she spiral once more and who is to say she would come back down?

With a silent nod, a hiccup or two passing her lips, she tried to push herself to her feet, allowing Fear and the Sun to help her outside. She half expected it to be twilight, or even some form of night - all tragedies take place in the evenings, don't they? Bright light from the sun's rays fell like beams of light to the ground, a scattering of clouds to reflect the sour mood of the Death family. And to top it all off, raindrops plummeted to the ground not unlike her sibling's bodies what felt like eons ago. But when the warmth of the sun hit her face, drying the tear tracks on her skin she felt… sick. Though it didn't stop the series of mad giggles spilling from her.

"All the heavens will weep for you…" she mused through her twisted laugh, the sickening feeling taking root within her, refusing to let up, "It was the last thing I said to Macaria… before the Fall."

Her mutterings broke through the silence, only footsteps to accompany them. With a sigh, and a quick glance at Apollo, Phobos suddenly lifted Mel off the ground, cradling her in his arms. It wouldn't do if she fell before they had even reached the car, her gaze focused on places far away from here. The laughter, the strange words, it didn't perturb him. His sister did not fare well in this world and he had been the only one willing to deal with the messes she created. People broke like glass shattering and he had learnt long ago that gods were no different. It was sad but life was sad…he had no way to change this.

As they walked the rain fell atop his dark curls, dripping irritatingly onto his forehead. He let out a murmur of annoyance as he tightened his grip on the goddess, trying to shelter her from at least some of the rainfall. Where was the wonder boy?

As if like some sort of divine intervention, the roaring, purring engine of a red Ford Mustang pulled in front of the club. Hercules, the great wonder boy, drove and Hebe, Goddess of Youth, rocking shotgun. That’s what had taken him a bit longer than it normally would to bring his mustang around. He had to search for Hebe. After he had explained the situation to her and did the bare minimum of begging, he managed to convince her to come along. Mel needed them more than ever and he had one job, so he was determined to make sure he did it without fail.

“Someone order an uber?” Wonder Boy joked. Despite everything, that was one of his specialties: make people smile, laugh, or even just shake their head. If it raised spirits, bet your ambiguously greek ass he’d do it.

“Brother,” Apollo grunted a slightly more somber greeting, as he clambered into Hercules’ car, doing his best to remain unbothered by Phobos’ little show. I could’ve picked her up. He ran a hand through his once golden hair, massaging the rain drops into his wavy locks, and spared a worried glance at the goddess next to him. He resisted the urge to break the tension with a dark joke, instead choosing to lean forward as Phobos shut the door. “Back to the Acropolis. I’m starting to feel like this whole club is a giant fucking target,” Apollo said.

Leaning back, he hazarded another glance at Melinoë. He was not good with tragedies, never had been. He was the Sun. He was light and laughter and joy, and he did not like to focus on the sad stories, did not like to acknowledge that he too, was familiar with pain. “We will find whoever did this, Mel. No one strikes against us without repercussions, you know that.”

Being squished into the backseat of Hercules’ mustang wasn’t ideal, but Melinoë was the furthest from concerned about her comfort levels at this point in her day. It had started off shitty and only got worse. What’s a little cramped space going to do to her?

Apollo spoke to her, in the same careful and calm tone that Phobos had used just moments before he carried her like a swaddled babe. It was embarrassing, she remembers thinking. She could barely pick up the words spoken to her, soothing and warm, a feeling of home; of the old days swimming back to cloud her already distant gaze. Melinoë was very much aware of two pairs of eyes watching her like a hawk, probably to ensure there wouldn’t be any more damage done, to them or to herself. On some level she was sorry for that, it wasn’t her intention to harm them, but they needed to realize that all she wanted was to be there with her siblings. She didn’t want to leave their sides.

For a moment, Melinoë calmed, no longer trying to claw her way through the throng of immortal beings to get to her siblings. There wasn’t enough space in the muscle car for the three godly beings to sit comfortably, so instead of sitting in either one of their laps - of which she gathered would set them off into some kind of war - Madness laid there across the both of them, legs thrown across Apollo’s lap, curled up and just… there. While her top half rested neatly on Phobos’. She resigned herself to being this lifeless doll, staring up at the ceiling of Herc’s too small car; as nice as it was. Only ever flicking her gaze to catch the son of War watching her with a concerned look upon his face. A furrow in his brow. ‘It doesn’t suit him,’ she remembered thinking before turning her attention to the Sun incarnate. He too wore a look that was too far out of place for his jovial nature. It was unsettling to say the least, but there wasn't any notion within her to broach those topics for the moment. Instead she turned her gaze back to the fabric lining the roof of the backseat.

It wasn’t the most ideal, but what about today was?

The son of war mirrored these thoughts of the daughter of the underworld, wondering why he was even surprised by the levels of chaos that the gods seemed to attract. At least he was away from the crushing fear that had begun to permeate the country club. Though initially it had felt immense, he now felt guilty that part of him, probably the true him, basked in it. That could, if given a chance, work to make that fear more.

Inwardly sighing, he continued to look out of the window, having turned after catching Mel's gaze upon him. A hand resting near her head but not atop it. Pulling out his phone, he quickly brought up Hades' number. There wasn't much to say or ask, but Phobos was certain that he would worry.

To: Boss
Mel's safe. Let me know what I need to do.


His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the passing landscape, knowing that most of his family would be on the case. His father was likely on some sort of self-righteous rampage. He would help Hades if he needed it but Mel might want him to stay. Though he suspected not. It wasn't exactly the nature of their relationship and he'd been a bit of an asshole to her only moments before their bodies had fallen. Great job Phobos...

Hercules tried to focus on just driving. He and Hebe rode front, of course, but that didn’t mean it was easy to focus. He wanted to say something, say anything that would be a comfort to Mel. To help in any way that was in his power. He hated being so useless in the sense of that, but Apollo and Phobos had that handled. Everyone had a part to play in this. They were to help her by just being there and Hercules? His part was to make sure they made it to Acropolis in one piece.

It was a lot easier, but Hercules was rarely the time to solely focus. Maybe that’s why he had crashed into a streetlight earlier. Ironically, Hebe was next to him just like she is now. Circumstances might be different, but that single thought renewed his focus as they turned a left into the long winding driveway and he slowed down to a reasonable speed, something no doubt the others would note, especially with the impressive Casa de Hercules and Apollo -- AKA Acropolis -- in the immediate distance.

“Never fear, dearest friends! We are here!” Hercules announced as pulled into the circular part of the driveway, directly in front of the front door. Hebe’s door was the closest to it and Herc just smiled at her. “Pretty spankin pad, huh?” Sure, it might’ve not been the best time for jokes, but what else could he do? This was his thing. Some people excelled at being able to comfort people with emotional words and assurances, which was amazing in its own right. He wished he had the capacity for that or the ability to do it in an effective way. Sadly, Hercules wasn’t wired like that. What he could, however, was make people smile and laugh and lift their spirits up. And he took pride in that.

Hebe brushed away the tears that still marred her face as she let out a small laugh, Herc's words lightening the heaviness in her heart if only a little. "It's amazing..." She replied truthfully, before opening her door slightly. Hebe couldn't deny that her presence at Acropolis felt sort of awkward. She really didn't have any reason to be here but still, she knew she should do something, and she felt sure that Mel would not want them all hovering around her.

Leaning over to Herc, she indicated for him to come closer before whispering gently in his ear. "Um...maybe we should get Mel some water...and make sure her room is okay?" She shrugged her shoulders, the gesture uncertain. "Give her some time and space. At least...I think that's what I would want…"

“That’s a good idea,” Herc muttered. He got out of his car, which he dubbed Pegasus because a mustang is a horse and he missed Pegasus. He glanced towards the backseat. He knew he should say something. It would just be rude of him to not say anything. “You guys can hang tight. Me and Hebe are gonna go inside and make sure everything is situated, okay?” It was at this moment, his eyes went to Mel. “Just take your time. There’s no need to rush anything. Promise!”

Feeling that he did as good of a job as he could, Hercules closed the driver side door. As he glanced over at Hebe before rounding around the front he was at her side. “The crib awaits!” He gave her a small smile as he walked towards the entrance, keys in hand.

Apollo slipped out of the car. “I’ll start some food,” he said, leaving the door open behind him so that Phobos and Mel could follow. As he walked up towards the front door, he stopped and looked out onto the street. Theirs was a peaceful suburb, lined with magnificent homes too big for any one person. He’d always felt safe, here in this perfectly manicured slice of Seattle. Now, he was not so sure. Were eyes on them now, watching and waiting? He made a mental note to discuss upgrading security with Herc. Perhaps they’d grown too cautious in their comfort.

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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Aewin
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Aewin Chomp!

Member Seen 0-12 hrs ago


𝖘 𝖔 𝖑 𝖎 𝖉 𝖆 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖞
𝖘 𝖔 𝖑 𝖎 𝖉 𝖆 𝖗 𝖎 𝖙 𝖞

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Hades & Persephone's home
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Thor @metanoia, Hades @sly13 & Persephone @Aewin
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Odin || Heimdall
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Though the God of Thunder had never met either prince or princess of the underworld, that didn’t mean he didn’t feel some aspect of pain seeing their bodies laid on the floor. The screams alone that filled the halls of the Olympic club from both Melinoe and Persephone had the penetration power that would make any great warrior cry or feel some form of grief. Thor was no exception to this. He never met them, it’s true, but he heard stories about them from Persephone, and part of him had come to know and appreciate the love that they gave her. As a father himself, though it’s been many years since Thor has laid eyes on both Magni and Modi, he couldn’t comprehend the loss this must have on the Greek’s death family.

Over the duration that she had been his pupil, Thor had grown especially close to her. Whether during their lessons or after or before, there was always one constant and that was family. She'd speak highly about her family: her husband, her kids, Melinoe, Zagreus, and Macaria. Thor had never met them personally, as he never had any reason to past the many stories he heard about them from their mother's lips and the supportive words she spoke about them.

After the brief, yet noteworthy display of heartbreak and anguish that Persephone displayed and she was left with her husband and being guided out of the club by Hati, Thor made his exit too. There wasn’t anything he could do at this point. He wasn’t an investigator like Athena, his brother, Heimdall, or any of the other gods who might be a detective. He’d only get in the way, and of course, there was the matter of his heart hurting for Persephone.

Thor was still in a rough shape, that much was true. His wound was still healing. His shoulder hurt, but it didn’t matter to him as much. Sekhmet, before she ditched him, had done all that she could. HIs main focus was to check on his friend. So that’s what he did.

Hopping into his truck, Thor drove across town. In the hindsight of everything that was happening, he was thankful that Persephone had occasionally invited him over to her home. Or sometimes she’d ask if her lessons could be carried out at her home. Thor didn’t mind because it still meant he was getting paid and sometimes a change of scenery was good for the soul and focus. The drive itself was long.

Going across Seattle, using the highways and street roads, one thing Thor would never grow tired of was the environment that Persephone’s home was in. All natural forest, it reminded him vastly of the forests of Asgard. How green and majestic they were. There was nothing quite like it and the rejuvenating feeling it filled you up with.

“And there it is,” he noted, coming to a stop at the drive way. Still as beautiful as it was the first time he came here. Thor did have a moment of apprehension, though. It was mostly about her husband. Hades, King of the Underworld. It was, if nothing else, intimidating for Thor and he seldom was intimidated.Shaking it off, he exited his truck that sat off to the side and made the trek up and gave the door a few knocks, standing and waiting in long silence.

“Just make sure they're here alright. I wish it was under different circumstances but we don't have time for the normal routine.” Hades paused for a second waiting for the confirmation from the other end of the line before ending the call and placing the phone in his pocket. Hades turned to look at a small picture frame on the shelf just above the fireplace. It was old by the standards of mortals he supposed but it felt like only yesterday to him. It was one of the few occasions the whole family had gotten together for a picture. Seeing their smiles brought back the raging anger that took all his control to keep a lid on top of. “What I wouldn't do to see those smiles one last time.”

Knock Knock Knock

The sounds of knocking shook him from his thoughts as he made his way to the door. Hades slowly opened the door revealing the norse god before him. Hades stared intently at the man before him looking him up and down as if he was judging him before allowing him entry into their home. Hades didn't have any strong feelings one way or another about the norse but Thor had shown his wife kindness and thus earned himself a small pass from the judgment of lord of the underworld.

Almost instantly Hades demeanor softened ever so slightly as he welcomed the Thunder god through his doors. “Thor Odinson, welcome to our humble home.” Hades stepped aside allowing him to enter. “Please join us in the front room, Persephone will be with us shortly.”

“Who is that? Oh!” Like she was summoned, Persephone greeted Thor and Hades at the entrance hall, a tray in her hand with a steaming tea pot, mugs and some biscuit assortments. Persephone looked at Thor in surprise before ushering him further inside the best she could with busy hands.

When seated in their living room, Persephone started pouring tea for Hades. “Would you like some tea, Thor? I’ve brewed us some lavender and chamomile tea.”

When Thor took his seat, opposite of the couple, of course, because he may have been a Norse, but he wasn’t a caveman. He knew how manners worked. “Yeah, sure that sounds nice.” Thor always did like the tea that Persephone brewed up even if he wasn’t much of a tea God himself. As she poured it, he kept dividing his occasional gaze between both Persephone and Hades.”I didn’t mean to drop by unannounced. I imagine with…everything, the last thing you wanted was someone showing up, but I was concerned for you, Persephone. And you as well, Hades. I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

Hades allowed himself to relax ever so slightly as he took his seat beside his wife. As the thunder god spoke Hades watched intently in between sips of his tea. Though he had a feeling he could trust Thor it was simply in his nature to be skeptical of most everyone. “Well I appreciate you stopping by to check on us. Now more than ever it's important to have friends close by.”

Persephone gave Thor a watery smile, grateful for a friend like him. Persephone had chosen to contact Thor to join his dojo out of boredom one day, hoping to spend some hours of the day away from the world tree. Learning self defense never hurt anybody, and Persephone had hoped that she could utilize whatever she had learnt to protect her family. Unfortunately, the choice was stolen from her. “Thank you, Thor. I appreciate your visit too, it helps to know we have support from other pantheons.” While Persephone did not want to dwell upon it, but the death of her children meant that there was a way to kill other Gods as well. Danger loomed over them all where not even ambrosia was enough to save them.

With a smile, Thor nodded, taking a small sip of the surprisingly delicious tea that Persephone had brewed for the three of them. It was true, Thorcould understand the idea of what they were literally experiencing. Since the fall, he had not heard from nor been aware of his two sons’ survival, whether Magni or Modi were alive or dead. That in itself, that he could understand and that’s what pained him the most: to see anyone suffer through that kind of pain -- real or not -- hurt his soul.

He could see the pain in their eyes. Hades was better at hiding it, but no man, god, or primordial being could hide that level of sorrow, so Thor knew what he must do right now was to shift the tone just a little bit. “This tea is delicious by the way. The lavender really highlights the chamomile. And the biscuits are delicious. They’re so buttery!” Even though he wanted to help either her or Hades smile, Thor was genuine. He found the mix of the flavors of tea and the biscuits to be a great combination, despite not being the kind of God that ate anything like it on the regular. He was more of a take-out kind of God.

Hades smirked slightly at the thunder gods' antics before his face returned to his normal stoic one. He could appreciate the efforts Thor was pouring forth to make the situation even the slightest bit more comfortable. It was never easy for anyone to be in such a situation, nevertheless being forced to stare someone such as himself down. “Persephone has always had a way with tea brewing.” Hades said, placing a hand on top of his wifes and looking at her lovingly. “I myself am hopeless when it comes to such skills.” As soon as Hades finished speaking an older woman stepped into the room.

“Excuse me Mr. Blackwell but some of your investors have arrived.”

“Ah yes, thank you very much Grace.” After she left Hades turned to his wife and placed a kiss on her cheek while giving her hand one last squeeze before standing. “Well I suppose business never stops, does it? It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Odinson.” After finishing his farewell Hades turned to leave the leave room where three finely dressed men had appeared and were now waiting for him. The first man was in his late 40’s, the man beside him was clearly in his 50’s to 60’s with a full head of white hair. The last one was a much younger man who could only be in his 20's, possibly 30’s at most. “Right this way gentlemen.” Hades said as he led them down the hall and out of view.

Persephone watched her husband disappear down the hall, a soft smile left on her face after his compliment. “I don’t know what I would do without Hades either.” She admitted to Thor, somewhat lost in her own thoughts. “I wouldn’t be sitting here alive, right now, if it weren’t for him.” To Persephone, her children were everything. Her family was everything. “I wish I had the chance to say the same to my Zagreus and Macaria. Tell them I love them.” Finally Persephone looked at Thor, really taking in his features carefully.

“Even if you’re not close, I hope you can tell your family that you love them. Never take the ones you love for granted.” Persephone had to learn that the hard way, for a second time.

Thor couldn’t help himself from glancing at the investors that passed by the hallway. His eyes counted three of them. It was difficult, even now, for Thor to shut off his naturally curious self. Be it at a friend’s house and comforting them or on the streets of Belltown as The Blue Crusader, he could never truly shut it off. In the back of his mind, he wondered what Hades did. Must be a solid job to afford a place like this fancy house. Definitely made his small studio apartment look like an ant in comparison.

He took a sip of his tea, refocusing on the real reason he was here and what, honestly, mattered the most. As she talked about Hades and her children and just about family in general, Thor couldn’t say he had the same loving relationship with his own. Heimdall was probably the only one of his family he held in any favorable light and even then, that relationship was strained at best. “I wish it was that easy, Persephone, I really do. My family…there’s so much to unpack there that I wouldn’t even know where to begin, you know?” He stared down into the cup in his hands, thinking about the last time he didn’t have a loathing feeling for his father. Heimdall, as less of a pain in the ass as he is in comparison, was a kissass. And Thor just couldn’t ignore that, or maybe he refused to?

Persephone took a sip of her tea as she listened to Thor. “Perhaps now is the time to consider your relationships carefully, whether holding onto the past is such a good idea.” Persephone knew it was easier said than done, she had her own grudges she was fighting. Demeter came to mind, a loving mother that tore the world looking for her but Persephone never appreciated the effort in the past. Her heavy heart sank some more as she realized the pain she put her own mother through, dismissing her as an overbearing parent only so Persephone could enjoy the taste of freedom offered by Hades. “I apologise for meddling, my thoughts are all over the place.”

Thor shook his head. “No need to apologize. It’s quite alright.” The truth was Persephone was absolutely right in everything she said - the God of Thunder knew that much. He might not be ready to do what she said quite yet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t see that what she said was right.

Between his brothers and his father, Thor had avoided them for so long. He neglected everything that Odin tried to do in terms of reaching out, refusing to even accept his olive branches. For decades, Thor tried to justify it by what happened in the past, but how long could he truly keep putting it off? How long could he justify not at least hearing Odin out? Eventually he would have to be the honorable god he always professed that he was and at least give Odin a chance to either surprise him or prove him right that he always will be swine.

“You know what’s hilarious? I came here to check up on you, but here you are doing that very thing for me. Maybe the student has surpassed the teacher.” He chuckled at the thought.

Persephone laughed alongside Thor, allowing the bizarreness of their situation amuse her for a little bit. “Everybody needs someone to look out for them. I’m glad I have you to turn to. And I hope to be a good friend in return.” She paused for a moment, the quiet comfortable between the two of them. Another thought lingered in her mind, a worry that felt selfish to even consider above her grief. “I had been looking forward to the luncheon for so long. It was the first in a while that Zagreus and Macaria decided to attend. I wanted my family in one place, so I could have broken the news to all at once.”

“News?” Thor muttered. He studied her face, the way her expressions changed from content joy to something that made him think she was bothered by something.

What was once meant to be a golden opportunity for bonding and delight now tainted by darkness and blood. “I’m with child. Hades… he doesn’t know yet. I wanted to tell them all together, to celebrate together. Now… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

The God of Thunder stood there, still looking at Persephone, trying to process what she just confessed to him and not her husband. That alone was something worth taking a moment or two to digest. Did it speak to the level of comfort their friendship had? Perhaps, but Thor also couldn’t stop his mind from going to a place of even greater concern for her. A day that was supposed to be filled with cheer was now one they would never forget.

“Persephone..” Thor spoke until he got her attention, “I’m so sorry. For everything.” Though he sat across from her, Thor moved to the same couch that she sat on, sitting next to his friend, and grabbed her hand, squeezing it just slightly. “I don’t know what you should do, but if you ever need anything, I promise as your friend and your teacher, I’ll do anything I can to help. Should you wish to tell Hades and want support, I’ll be there in the hour! I promise you’re not alone in any sense.”

It was like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She hadn’t meant to reveal everything to Thor, especially in such a sudden manner. His support meant the world to Persephone, a friend in her corner in a time she felt so lost and unsure. “Thank you, Thor. I didn’t expect you to have the answers, but your assurance alone means so much to me.” She spoke sincerely, giving him a tired smile. Exhaustion was starting to set in after such a trying day - or maybe it was the double dose of calming tea she had brewed that she could blame - but she slumped forward with her elbows on her knees holding up her head. “Thank you, really.” She repeated, unable to say much more.

“You never have to thank me. You’re my friend and favorite student.” Of course he wished he could do more to help her, but perhaps this was where he tagged out and let her husband, or that friendly butler take over. At the end of the day, her knowing that no matter the time of day or where he might be or what state he might be in (especially given how reckless he’s been as of late at night) that Thor would drop everything to be there for her was enough to not fret over.

Thor stood up, offering a hand for a tired Persephone. “I think it’s time I take my leave. It’s a long drive back into town, but will you be okay? I can stay a bit longer if you need me to.”

Persephone lifted her head to look at Thor, shaking her head in refusal. “I have taken more than enough of your time. Thank you again, for listening.” The thanks came out without her thinking, making Persephone offer Thor a sheepish smile. Persephone then stood up, giving Thor one last hug before seeing him to the door. With Thor’s assurance still ringing in her head, she waved her friend goodbye with renewed morale.

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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Hey Im Jordan
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Hey Im Jordan Ichi, Ni, San

Member Seen 23 hrs ago





Location: His home → The Bruncheon
Mentions: Deimos @Danvers
Interactions: Tochi @Fabricant451, Hati @KZOMBI3


The call of an alarm wasn’t really necessary to pull him out of his slumber. Years of service in the military had given Hermes an internal clock that brought him up at five A.M., music or no. Some of his fellow deities thought he was weak for going to bed at 1130 sharp every night, but Hermes didn’t care. Truth was, Hermes didn’t care about a lot - he lived his life the way he wanted, and that was perfect for him.

He rolled out of the bed and caught himself as he caught the ground, beginning a wake-up workout. By the time the song finished, Hermes had finished his one hundred push ups and hopped up to his feet, and paused in the hallway. He looked to the left, where the garage and his home gym were, and then turned his head toward the right, where the television and his PlayStation 5 awaited. Once upon a time, Hermes had heard a saying from one of the most profound mortal philosophers of all time.

“I understand there’s a guy inside me who wants to lay in bed, smoke weed all day, and watch cartoons and old movies. My whole life is a series of stratagems to avoid, and outwit, that guy.”
Anthony Bourdain


Hermes was finding it hard to win the battle against that guy today, and after a few minutes of quiet contemplation, he hung a right and flopped on his couch and picked up the controller. He checked his watch, and nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I got time. What’s Hera gonna do if I’m late to her brunch? Tell Perse to not give me a fuckin’ apple?” He asked no one in particular as he fired up the console and the game.

The game in question? Fortnite. Hermes fancied himself as something of an ‘epic gamer.’ He learned the term from Huixtocihuatl, though he was pretty sure she used it as a derogatory term. He thought it sounded pretty dope though, so he referred to himself as it to annoy her often. It was part of the fun of their relationship.

He loaded into the game with his random teammates, and adjusted his head headset slightly. Clearing his throat, Hermes pressed the push-to-talk button. “Mic check?”

“What the fuck, dude? This guy sounds like he’s a fuckin’ grandpa. Where do you wanna drop, gramps? The retirement home?”

It was always something with the kids he played games with. And it was always kids! What was the deal with that shit, no matter what time or what day he got on to play, there were always fucking kids on his team. And he hated dealing with the children, listening to them talk grated on his ears. They were squeakers, and it was sooo annoying.

“Drop tilted, you little shit.” Hermes said, rolling his eyes. He watched the screen as they fell down to the drop zone he’d asked for. At least the kid listened well. Hermes was focused on the game for the next twenty or so minutes. It wasn’t until the end of the game that they started talking again, with Hermes trying to direct the traffic.

“Left, dude. DUDE. HE’S LEFT. HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU.” Hermes screamed into his microphone, and the kid didn’t seem to pay attention to his words at all, and Hermes was forced to watch as an angry looking John Cena burst through his teammates walls and shot him in the face with a shotgun. “Kid, I fuckin’ told you that they were coming for you, what the hell?”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, OLD MAN. SHUT UP. SHUT UP. DON’T TELL ME HOW TO PLAY.”

The screaming kid distracted Hermes from the business at hand, and a purple saxophone playing banana burst onto the scene and shoved an uzi up his ass. It was, at this point, that Hermes became heated. There had already been about thirty goddamn minutes of this crap, and it wasn’t like this kid was ever going to see him again. Stuck in the spectator mode, Hermes listened to the kid continue.

“I didn’t know they let the geriatrics have wifi, dude. Jesus fucking christ, people like you ruin this fucking game. Fucking boomers can’t even play and they can’t do anything but try and run other people’s lives -”

“By fucking Zeus’s beard, kid. I swear on my life I will wireshark your IP and I will send my psycho fuckbuddy to your house and she will stab you with a fork.” He growled into the mic, and to his surprise, the very legitimate threat was met with… laughter.

“Bullshit dude, you’re probably a forty year old virgin, up at five AM playing competitive Fortnite.”

There was a pause, as Hermes couldn't figure out how to reply to that comment. And then, a new, third voice joined the fray. “Hey guys! Sorry, I couldn’t get my mic to work until now. We did pretty good! Fourth place isn’t too bad.”

Hermes sighed, and just shut his PS5 off. That’s the last time I play Fortnite at five A.M… Hermes told himself for the fourth time that week, then stood up and stretched his arms over his head. Yeah… yeah, I got time. He decided, and then he stumbled into the garage to get his morning workout in.

Before much longer, Hermes was dressed, and on his bike. He flew through the streets of Seattle with his music blasting from the speakers on the bike. Hermes wasn’t a savage - he wasn’t stupid enough to ride the bike with earbuds in. He was just stupid enough to ride the bike without a helmet. Once he arrived at the location, he dropped gears and brought the bike to a stop, tossed the keys to the valet.

Once he was inside, Hermes found himself two glasses of champagne off of the plate of a passing waiter. He slammed one and put the empty glass down as he looked around. He was searching for his favorite Aztec goddess, the goddess of salt. She had to be around here somewhere, surely. Looking around, he found the group of people in the center of the building and headed that way. If he had to guess, Tochi was probably in there.

"Some party, right? Better than last year."


There she was. His target sighted, Hermes easily stepped through the crowd to her voice, and when he saw her, he scooped her up and over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. He knew she wouldn’t like it, but he had a feeling he’d like what she was holding up to her behind his back: a glass of champagne. “I heard you running your mouth on your stream, you know —”

Hermes stopped before he could even address the claim that he finished fast, as he realized what the people were congregating around: the bodies of his friends. “What the fuck…” Was all he could say. Keeping Tochi slung over his shoulder, he pulled out his phone.

To: Brother Wolf

Dude… what is going on?


If anyone would know, Hati would.

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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by smarty0114
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smarty0114 Human

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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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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by KZOMBI3
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A n s w e r M e

location: Odin's Penthouse
interactions: Odin & Hati
mentions: Loki | Children of Loki | Isabel | Ares @Legion02 | Hermes @Hey Im Jordan




It was easy to slip away from the thrilling luncheon, away from the other pantheons and their preening gods. In any other circumstances Odin would be pleased to join in on the festivities, but today, with everything that has happened so far, he just wanted to get away from everyone. Take it easy. Enjoy himself and present company; at least until he dropped him off back at his own home. His latest call from Týr brought good news, the weapon had been located and was en route to be delivered and placed in his collections as soon as they landed back in the states. A wonderful start to what he hoped was going to be an even better day.

Loki had been uncharacteristically solemn as of late and it worried the Allfather to no end. Though he would never admit to it aloud for fear of it being used against him. Like everything else seemed to be. If it wasn't his children taking shots at him - Heimdall excluded, it was Loki's children attempting to end his life. "Like father like offspring," he chuckled to himself as he made it through the threshold of his penthouse suite. Felt as though he had been gone eons, the place felt unfamiliar to him in the moment and though he would have liked to dwell on that feeling and figure out it's origins he brushed it aside and instead focused on the task at hand - stepping back and enjoying the dredge.

The silence and time alone didn't last long as there came a rapping at his door. Frustrated that someone was even able to get up to his floor, a disgruntled, "What do I even pay the front desk security for," tumbling from his lips as he got up from his comfortable high back leather chair and made his way towards the offending noise. Swinging it open, a threat already on his tongue at the ready, his eyes locked in on the young man standing there.

Hati stood, a little more worse for wear than he usually was. There was a hardness to his eyes, that wasn't so uncommon anytime the white wolf laid his gaze on the Alföðr. But there was something different about it in this moment. Something that told the Norseman this was going to be a serious visit. "What can I do for you, Hati?" He was cordial, inviting his lover's grandson into his penthouse with a wide gesture. Hati wasted no time in slinking past him and roaming the home, following his senses as he did so. A faint, almost invisible trail flitted around the space, twisting and curving around corners and through doorways before finally ending back at the door. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Nothing out of place since the last time he had to visit Odin. So... what was going on?

Rounding back to the homeowner Hati took notice that he was back at his personal bar, pouring out two drinks. "Why did you leave the luncheon so early?" Came his question. It wasn't tactful nor was it delivered with any sense of patience or decorum. As was normal for Hati; especially when it came to Odin. "It isn't like you to just... disappear from a lavish event. Especially if you knew there was discord to be made." Hati continued to glance around the apartment searching for something, or someone. "Where's Loki?"

Odin turned with glasses in hand, extending one out to the wolf pup - who graciously took it, even if he hadn't realized it. Must have been some party after he left for Hati to willingly consume something from him. "He said he wasn't feeling too well and asked to be dropped off back home. Is something the matter? What happened after I left?" He sipped from his glass once he sat back down in his favorite chair, empty hand absentmindedly drawing patterns along the arms, pressing into the hammered rivets that lined the edges. It was an old habit of his, whenever he was deep in thought or listening intently; idle hands do the devil's work - wasn't that the mortals' saying?

"I'm assuming I'm the cause of some horrendous outbreak. Let me guess, Huginn and Muninn broke in and tore up Hera's dress? Plucked someone's eyes out? Stole some jewelry?" He couldn't stop the laugh that had bubbled up in his chest from escaping into the space between them. Hati still hadn't moved from his place in the middle of the room, back to the large windows, an eye on both the Allfather and the front door. 'Always so paranoid...' he remembers thinking as he sipped once more.

There was a stiffness in the air that neither one of them could ignore. Something sinister in play. Hati just assumed it was the stench of death that lingered on his person, that he trekked into the space with him. Odin knew it as the remnants of the draugr from before. Neither of them understood the others trepidation. The silence between them was broken when Hati muttered, "...death..."

Odin, being the ancient being he was, couldn't hear, nor understand the context of Hati's words and asked for him to repeat them. In response Hati downed the rest of his glass, emitting a satiated sigh before repeating himself louder, "There have been two deaths, you old fuck."

"Whoa, whoa! Calm down -,"

"No! I will not!" His eyes held a feralness to them, one that Odin hadn't seen in many, many years. He would never admit to it, but the sight alone brought back terrible memories, of the time before. It haunted his dreams - not Hati's look per se, but nevertheless, ran his blood cold and his bones shook. He was able to mask the fear he felt in Hati's presence for the fear of the news of a permanent death. The idea was ridiculous. There had not been a perma-death in eons. Not since the beginning of the Fall. And that was simply because the other Gods would not take the fruit, they missed their old lives, the old ways. Wanted the suffering to end. By what the wolf was saying, it didn't seem like this was the case.

Hati explained to him, in his rage filled monologue, about how the bodies simply fell through the ceiling, not long after Odin himself had left; Loki in tow. How they were killed with a weapon, a sword known to the both of them all too well. One who never missed a target and that if unsheathed the blade itself would not be satisfied unless a life was taken. "Dáinsleif..." The name caused a shiver to race down his spine as he sat forward, elbows on either knee and his head in his hands. "It was stolen."

"What?"

"Dáinsleif. It was stolen about a month ago," Hati scoffed and rolled his eyes, because of course it was. As if reading his mind Odin stood up and made his way to the bar, effectively trapping Hati there between him and the counter top. "I even went through the proper channels with the police in order to make sure that if it were to ever come up, they knew that it was dangerous and where to return it too."

The white wolf scoffed once more, "Yeah, they just didn't know how dangerous did they? Did they?!" The anger in him flared up again, causing the old crow to back up in response. The young wolf pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing deeply. There wasn't any use biting off Odin's head, no matter how much he wanted to in that moment. It wasn't entirely his fault. Not this time at least. "They are all going to come after you, you do realize this." He muttered, snarl still fixed in place, finding himself pouring himself a large and generous drink. Odin didn't have the mental capacity to stop him. With just a look the older god could tell how much of a toll this was taking on his company. It was unlike any side of the wolf he had ever seen and he wasn't about to be on the receiving end of what his jaws and claws could do when directed at him in the moment.

After another large swig of the peat liquor, Hati narrowed his gaze towards his former employer, "Athena and Artemis will want to question you. The entire Greek pantheon will want blood shed, thankfully they don't know it was a Norse blade that had done the Death kids in. So, we're safe on that front..."

Odin cut in, "I didn't do this, Hati. Of all the things you know me to be, would it behoove me to start a war? Now of all times?" Hati didn't look convinced, "Especially against those kids, whom I hold no ill will towards. Why not against Hel, or you? Hmm?" It was then that Hati placed his drink down slowly and began to move away from the man before him. "I didn't mean anything by it," It was Odin's turn to roll his eyes, setting his own drink down, placing his arms out wide in an attempt to seem less threatening.

There wasn't anything about this situation that didn't scream out to the wolf that this was not going to end well. Maybe it was the stench of death, maybe it was the lingering effects of the draugr on Odin, maybe it was just the fact that the Festival was being kicked off with a fucking luncheon... regardless this day had not gone well for the son of Fenrir. Thankfully he was saved by the proverbial bell. A chirp of his phone drew his attention, only for a moment. Hati had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at the name and number flashing across the screen, but curiosity got the better of him and he opened the message. It seems his little bit of information passed along to Miss Isabel was well warranted. Greattttt. Just what I needed. Honestly, with all the commotion of deaths and then this investigation, he had completely forgotten that he had even sent something to the bitch.
To: vile witch
glad to help.sent

It was short, sweet and to the point. One that he would have liked to stick to her at some point. It seemed like everything was going to shit since he met with her this morning—

Like being struck by lightening he was awake and filled with a renewed sense of energy. And not all of it good. He held a theory, one that he couldn't hold on to. It was probably nothing, but he couldn't take that chance. Not with a god killing weapon out there somewhere. And now with this new mortal player in the works, something didn't add up. He had to tell someone. He needed to confirm shit. Ares! He was bound to know something or other about his little love child. One that definitely wasn't related to Aphrodite or Tlazōlteōtl in any way. And even as much as it would pain him, it was likely that he would have to go to the source of all his headaches. Without a second thought given to the old man, Hati turned on his heel and headed back the way he came. Receiving another text as he did. Half expecting it to be Isa once more he was pleasantly surprised to find Hermes name attached to the message; wondering what it was that was going on.

Hitting dial as he stood inside the lift, waiting to go down, he waited for the winged messenger to pick up, tapping his foot incessantly. On the third ring the receiver was answered and Hati could hear the commotion going on in the background - most likely still at the Olympic. "Hey, man, look. I'll tell you everything I know but I'm gonna need a favor."


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Hidden 2 mos ago Post by Aewin
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𝖜 𝖊 𝖑 𝖈 𝖔 𝖒 𝖊 𝖕 𝖆 𝖗 𝖙 𝖞

location: Arriving for the party at the Acropolis
interactions: Coco, Eros & Xōchi
mentions: Acropolis Crew



“Maitea! Look here!”

“Turn this way!”

“Is it true that you’re dating your co-star?”


“Oh my god I love you!”


The screams were endless. The chaos a blur amongst the crowd. Some were leeches hoping to take a picture, others trying to sell the next big story on the likes of US Weekly. Some were regular mortals, swept up in the hubbub of witnessing a celebrity with their own eyes. Xōchiquetzal gave her crowd a practiced smile.

It had been her who tipped off the media of her upcoming presence at Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, her flight from LA long enough for the paparazzi to set up camp right by arrivals. Turning to the last person who declared their love for her, she leaned slightly into the stranger to pose for a selfie with her devoted fan, giving the camera a sweet smile and wink before being ushered away by security.

The easy smile remained on Xōchiquetzal’s face until the doors of her black Range Rover Evoque closed, hiding her from the crowd outside. Only then her mask slipped, leaning into the comfortable leather seats for only a second before she called out.

“Alright, take me home.” Her driver nodded at her from the rear mirror before following her command wordlessly. The luncheon was likely long finished by now, the twinkling stars painting the pink skies like little freckles on delicate skin. She contemplated changing her destination to the Jade Jaguar to surprise her mother, but the thought escaped her when she looked out her window, a familiar figure meandering on the side of the road.

“No fucking way- STOP THE CAR!” Xōchiquetzal shouted, her driver slamming on the breaks in reaction. Xōchi barely waited for the car before she rolled down her tinted windows, pushing her head out the window to gaze upon the woman carefully. “Coco? Is that you?!”

Comus was content waltzing down the street dressed in garb commandeered from the mortals she scared away. Thankfully the fountain in the park was filled with water for her to wash the filth and grime from her body, cold though it was.

She was intrigued and amazed at the sights of the world around her, no longer was she among the Golden Age, nor was she still in Italy - that much was evident in the languages spoken around her. Though she was able to gather some latin roots here and there no one seemed to speak the beautiful language itself. 'Such strange creatures they are,' she found herself thinking, eyes twinkling with the fire lights surrounding the buildings she passed, both big and small.

A large black carriage of sorts pulled up beside her as she skipped her way through town, a window down and a head of hair popped out knowing her name. At a quick glance her eyes gleamed on mirth, "Xōchi?! Είσαι εσύ! Πού ήσασταν; Πού έχω πάει; Τι είναι αυτό το μέρος; Πεινάω έχεις φαγητό?" Her grecian language was coming out in full force but she couldn't be blamed when most of her life on earth was spent in some nightmare fueled slumber. Didn't have any time to pick up the newest languages of the world. It didn't stop the agent of chaos from running up to the window and throwing her arms through the open window and around the beautiful goddess, squeezing her tightly afraid it was all still a terrible dream.

The Aztec Goddess squealed in happiness, taking Coco into her arms in what could be argued as the world’s most uncomfortable hug. The ramble of Greek spilling from Coco’s lips made no sense to Xōchi, but the excitable greeting helped with the context. “You’ve been gone for so long, I haven’t seen you for millenia! And this is how you show up, looking like a street rat?” Not on Xōchi’s watch. “Come in, get in the car. We have so much to catch up on!”

It didn't take being told twice for the dark haired beauty to comply and hop into the large contraption with her long standing friend. If anything Comus was excited for what the rest of this night would bring.

After sitting beside the Aztec for what seemed like ages, when in reality it was just a few moments, Coco began asking questions about the wonderous world she had woken up to. "What is this contraption? How long have I been gone?" Her English was beginning to figure itself out the more she spoke, especially since it was something Xōchi called to her with. Though, it was a lot different from the last time she had heard and used it. So strange to come back to such a changed environment.

It made her wonder about everyone else. Clearly they didn't all sleep as she had. Were they still around? Had any died simply because they felt like it? 'Did someone manage to kill one of them?' her mind was running a mile a minute, only coming to an abrupt stop at her latest thought. An audible gasp spilling from her.

Finally her eyes focused back on her friend beside her, no longer glassy and far away as she was lost in her own world. Voices ushering themselves off back to the dark corners of her mind allowing for listening ears to take a turn in the driver's seat.

In the meantime, Xōchi ordered her driver to make haste back home, there was a fashion emergency awaiting them and Xōchi couldn’t stand seeing Coco look so shabby beside her. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were gone for a long while. It is the year 2022, the Festival started today.” Right on time for Coco to wake up then. “And this ‘contraption’ is a car. Where were you all this time? Nobody has seen you take the ambrosia, how are you alive?” Something wasn’t sitting right with Xōchi, it was like Coco had slept while the world turned without her.

Luckily the airport wasn’t a far journey from Xōchi’s home, so the Goddess was able to usher Coco inside. “The shower is here, my closet is yours. Choose wisely, we’re heading to Acropolis to see Eros.”

Upon entering the lavish home of her dear friend Coco was star struck. She admired everything she passed, running her fingers over the surfaces of things, before her attention was pulled elsewhere. Upon hearing Eros' name the mischievous one grinned and giggled before skipping into the bathroom to figure out how to work the knobs of the shower.

After it was turned on, many attempts to get it right only resulted in Xōchi having to step in to help, she nearly melted down the drain below her bare feet. The feeling of water rushing over felt cleansing, ridding her if the stickiness of sweat that covered her like a second skin. Of the dryness of that… chamber she was bound in for so long.

It was strange, surreal even, the long sleep she had found herself in. Well, she hadn't realized what it was at the time. But after speaking with Xōchi, through her spacious powder room, about what has happened in the world without her, it was the only thing that made sense. Why else would she have missed the last few hundred years or so? Definitely not something she did on purpose. Why would she willingly miss out on all the potential chaos and debauchery? The idea made her sick.

Once the grime and grit were washed from her body it didn’t take Comus long to find the enormous closet filled to the rafters with cloth of varying colors and textures. Her eyes aglow with the excitement of getting to choose something from the beauty’s own personal collection. She called out from the maze that was her closet, “Are you sure I can have one?” Though she knew the answer regardless.

For her long time friend? “Everything in that closet is yours, noyollo icniuh.” There has been far too much that Coco missed out on. The Goddess had mentioned to Xōchi that she had been asleep, the chamber she rested in freezing her in place until now. Perhaps Comus' awakening was a sign that chaos was incoming. The thought of chaos was absolutely thrilling knowing that her boredom will be quelled.

Xōchi and Comus shared the title as Gods of excess, and many of their initial gatherings were spent playing and partying with other Gods and mortals alike. With Comus back, Xōchi felt like the party could truly begin again. But for that, they had to get to the biggest party hotspot first.

“You’ll enjoy Acropolis, Coco. It is a haven built for the likes of us. Xōchi told Comus, putting the final touches on her makeup and outfit, refreshed from traveling at the prospect of having a party. “It is the perfect place to make your debut after sleeping for so long.”

Stepping out of the luxurious wardrobe, a wicked smile plastered across her face, the goddess of revelry and anarchy struck a pose against the doorframe, “Then we shouldn’t keep them waiting~!”



Upon arriving at Casa de Acropolis, more information had been divulged to the now woken goddess. Not only had she missed centuries of new inventions and fun new ways to cause chaos, a different type of chaos; one of death, recently struck the first day of the Festival just moments before her supposed awakening. Suspicious to say the least, but Comus wasn’t concerned about that. Truthfully, the connection never crossed her mind. She wasn’t one for searching for a deeper meaning in the world around her, too focused on making the most of the here and now.

Which just happened to place them on the doorstep of the infamous party house, run and owned by the frat boys of the Greek pantheon themselves; Hercules and Apollo. Seeing as their car was placed haphazardly in the front, Xōchi’s driver had to swerve in order to not hit it - a bummer in Coco’s eyes - it was clear that they were home. Though from what she had heard about this place the silence stemming from the mansion was a little off putting.

“So much for party,” she pouted and kicked in the door, voice carrying through the seemingly empty and silent home, Ω ρε γαμώτο! Πού είσαι?!

The Greek god of love, who had been meandering lazily out of his room, arm slung round the dainty shoulders of some mortal, suddenly stopped when he heard an oh so familiar voice. Practically, and in his defence entirely accidentally, pushing the poor girl over, he ran to the top of the staircase. Hands resting against the bannister, he leant over, it being a miracle that he didn't fall. Eyes, emerald and bright, widened in joy at the sight before him.

Unable to wait any longer, Eros bounded down the stairs, before sweeping Coco off her feet and swinging her around in a wide, and thoroughly unnecessary, circle. "Comus ρε ράτσα, πού ήσουν! Είμαι σε απόλυτη απόγνωση χωρίς εσένα!"

Putting the goddess down, he turned to her companion, slipping back into English as easily as breathing. "Xōchi! Looking beautiful as always." He grabbed her hands, holding them gently. "Tell me. Where did you find her? I hope off causing utter chaos somewhere?" His lips turned up at the corners in a wicked smile as he beamed at his friends.

Xōchi leaned over to give Eros a kiss on either cheek, a formal yet playful greeting amongst the two. “Wandering the streets looking terrible, but I fixed our little Chaos up and brought her to the best place where she can thrive.“ Xōchi then took a moment to look around, sighing in disappointment when she didn’t see the typical Acropolis vibes in place. “Looks like you guys need her.”

Comus screamed with laughter at being rushed and swung around, the adrenaline of seeing such an old friend bringing a sense of euphoria to her. She placed a kiss of her own to his cheek as he set her down and stood off to the side watching her two closest friends greet each other and nodding along as Xōchi explained the situation. “She did and you absolutely do,” she kissed Xōchi once more in thanks for helping her so.

Without giving either of them a chance to react her manic eyes landed on the mortal still standing at the banister above them, hair disheveled and tussled. Looking thoroughly satiated but the expression she wore was one of pure annoyance and jealousy. “Aw, love~! Don’t be upset. Not many people can satisfy our boy here. Well,” she looked between herself and the Aztec, We can. The smirk that graced the Grecian's face was downright smug, haughty even. The poor girl didn't know what hit her as she huffed and stomped her way down the stairs, roughly pushing past Chaos like it wouldn’t result in her breaking a bone or two. In the blink of an eye Comus had snatched the mortal by the hair and smashed her face into the door before opening it and pushing her outside in a single, smooth motion.

”I’m so glad to be back~!" Dusting her hands as if she had completed some menial task - like taking out the trash. Now, let’s get this started! There isn’t anything fun going on here. What’s happened? Someone die~?” She laughed, though it felt so strange coming from her, a sound not heard in hundreds of years even to her own ears. Her dark, albeit annoying, laughter that filled the space around them bounced off walls. A dark omen surely to follow.

"I know, it's all terribly droll." Eros replied idly, his gaze moving away from the door as it swung shut. He did feel bad, she had seemed nice enough, but Comus tended to bring out his mischievous side and he wasn't about to deny the goddess her fun after so long away. "They're all at the festival. Though I do hope my grandmother has murdered someone for eating too many hors d'oeuvre..." He stretched his arms above his head lethargically. It had been a night of little sleep and he'd only strayed from his bed when...Amanda? Ashley? When whomever had insisted they head out for food. "It would at least be something to talk about."

Xōchi barely gave the mortal a glance before Coco dealt with her pride accordingly. Of course it was expected for the little girl to be jealous of Coco and herself, what could a mortal do to compete with two elite Goddesses? She waved lazily at the swinging door, her attention directed to her companions instead. “What if I told you there has been a murder, dear love.“ Xōchi answered Eros, as though what she said was a fun bit of gossip (well, considering her companions…). “A shame that none of us were there to see it, but my mother saw the bodies of the two Greek children of death before she left.“

Coco's attention had been piqued a d as she whipped her head back towards their friend , her eyes shone with an emotion unfamiliar to her. "Which ones? Was it Melinoë? Poor Hades… well, poor souls who thought they could get away with it," another laugh. It really would be a fantastic death to witness, someone getting what they're due. The idea made her giddy.

"Makes sense why the house would be so silent. Death clings to them… we should fix that. Give 'em something to celebrate and I guess get their minds off of the tragedy," the brunette finished with a roll of her eyes. Waltzing through the expanse that is the Acropolis, Coco banged on counters and cabinets alike trying to get any and all attention on the fact that they were there and ready to party. It wasn't in her nature to have a party for any other reason than just because. But for the circumstances she supposed a distraction is as good as any.
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metanoia

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𝓵 𝓪 𝓶 𝓮 𝓷 𝓽 𝓸 𝓯 𝓽 𝓱 𝓮 𝓼 𝓸 𝓾 𝓵
𝓵 𝓪 𝓶 𝓮 𝓷 𝓽 𝓸 𝓯 𝓽 𝓱 𝓮 𝓼 𝓸 𝓾 𝓵

𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Seattle U → Beach near his house
𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Hera (via voicemail left) @smarty0114
𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: Odin || Hera || Zeus || Hades || Jormangdr
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅


“Is it really that late?”

Poseidon glanced at his phone, noting the time. It was significantly later in the AM than he originally thought. He opted not to cancel his lecture, thinking it wouldn’t go over and he would be able to attend the luncheon as he originally intended. What he didn’t factor in was one of his students decided that she would be feeling argumentative with him. Which of course wasn’t a bad thing. Poseidon -- or rather Professor Leventis -- had always encouraged his students to challenge his thoughts. He wanted them to bring their thoughts into the forum of the class, express them freely, and above all else, formulate an approach that worked for them.

Free thinking was the name of the game. It didn’t matter if it was just Environmental Science. Occasionally, he threw in some classic greek philosophy. Poseidon couldn’t help it. No matter how many years that went on, not since his conversations with his dear friend, the Norse World Snake, he didn’t get the chance to engage in mental thought experiments.

But it was late. Later than expected, Poseidon was hurrying out of the lecture hall, making his way through the campus as swiftly as his legs allowed him. Getting to his car, a nice tesla at that, he didn’t leave his reserved parking space just yet. Instead, he went to give that Queen of the Olympians and organizer of the Luncheon a call. Dialing her number, it rang and rang until he got her voicemail.

Shrugging, Poseidon waited for the beep and left a message. “It’s Atlas. I would have preferred to talk to you directly, but I suppose it couldn’t be helped, right? My lecture went over, so if i missed anything - and if it’s not too much of a hassle - just have the fruit sent to my house whenever at all possible. If I’m not there, have whoever is handing them out this year just text me.”

Satisfied (but not really), Poseidon didn’t account on this. He figured it was already too late and, honestly, as much as he wanted to attend late, facing an even more irate than usual Hera wasn’t something he was looking forward to. It didn’t matter whether or not he was trying to be a better God, a better man, and a better brother. If Zeus or Hades actually attended, that would have been a good opportunity to start rebuilding the bridges that were burned, soaked, sunken into the ocean, and completely left to wither away while the crashing waves of time prevented restoration.

But at the same time, there was a deep, impending dread building inside his stomach, rising like the tide and making him feel sick. It was a case of better said than done and Poseidon wasn’t quite sure he was ready for that particular task.

So he drove home. Or at least he was. He was on the highway, going as fast as he needed, that anxiety that he felt was still present. It was as prevalent as it has always been, so Poseidon took a detour. Not turning on Olympic View Drive like he would have to go home, but rather went straight for the ocean. He parked, walked on the sand, took off his shoes and socks. Poseidon sat as close as he could to the ocean without touching it. He just sat there, legs up, arms resting around his legs, and let the sound of the crashing waves fill up and relax him.

The God of the Sea closed his eyes, matching his breathing with the waves. Deep, slow breaths. In and out. In and out. With every swoosh and crash, he could feel it working. With every second of the gentle waves coming after harder ones crashed deeper into the great pacific, Poseidon could feel that dread fading back into a subtle worry. That was a manageable pain compared to the crippling panic he knew was coming. And with that panic, came the familiar rage that he tried so long to keep buried down, to keep away from the surface. The Poseidon who caused tidal waves for fun wasn’t a pleasant God and Atlas Leventis was not that person anymore.

Or at least he tried not to be. With it being so long since Poseidon had felt an everlasting calm, not since the last time he spoke with Jormungandr. How he missed his friend, to hear their voice. They spoke a language that not many could understand -- not even their own kind, the Norse. But Poseidon, being universal at understanding aquatic life, could. Not even barriers of different pantheons could prevent him from knowing what the World Snake said and felt. They both were strangers to their own and felt a loneliness and a lack of longing that nobody but each other could provide for one another.

In a word, they were soul mates. Twin flames.

But like without the moon, without that comfort, the tides within Poseidon threatened to consume everything that he held dear.

“My friend, I wonder -- are you awake just like the rest of us? Or are you still caught in Cronus’ everlasting, infinite wheel of time?” Poseidon lamented as the water touched his foot. It was cool and almost rejuvenating. Paired with the subtle breeze, it almost took Poseidon’s mind off of his longing to hear the World Snake’s voice again.

And there it was. Faint but there. A presence that he immediately recognized.

Eyes widened and Poseidon could feel it all around him. It was in the sea. In the heart of the sea. When the water touched him, he heard something. His friend’s voice…and it wasn’t far.

That was all that he needed. With that renewed vigor in his eyes, Poseidon rushed to his car and drove. He drove and let his heart guide him. It would show him the way.

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