Member
Sapphic Pigeon
TheMushroomLord
Dion
Venus
AlteredTundra
Prints Avoid
Punished GN
HeMandaddy
sly13
Boreas
𝗃 𝗎 𝗉 𝗂 𝗍 𝖾 𝗋
𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓵𝓲𝓼 𝓡𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓽 10:45 AM
MOOD: ᴍɪssɪɴɢ ʀᴏᴍᴇ.
Patterns existed in everything; nature, humanity, business, godhood. It’s why Jupiter found them so comforting; patterns meant predictability and predictability meant that Jupiter always had the upper hand. The god himself had a predictable schedule: wake up, work, jog, work, shower, work, work, work. However, none of the brothers of the Archaic Triad could be considered predictable themselves. Jupiter may maintain a predictable livelihood, under his dark hair stirred plots from all angles. Because of his capricious nature, Jupiter is of the understanding that Mars and Janus are also of the same nature. Brunches may be the bane of Jupiter’s existence (brunch for this, brunch for that, brunch for family, and brunch for business), it was good to take the time to catch up with his duo that complete his trio and some of the other Romans.
If he could get out the door, that is.
“Mr. Kingsley, you have received an important message from – ” His assistant hurried after his steps, his formal shoes clacking on the tile like tap shoes on a mat.
Jupiter didn’t bother glancing up from the newspaper he was reading, “No.”
The assistant hesitated and Jupiter’s long strides took him far away from whatever nobody wanted to contact him. He passed by the circular desk at the front of the building, and Helena perked up at the sight of him. Her eyes roved over him, looking for anything out of place, until she spotted something absolutely juicy. Nothing could get past Helena, the gossip hound of the company.
“Mr. Kingsley, did you fall and bruise your neck?” She asked innocently, as boldly calling it a ‘hickey’ would certainly land her in hot water. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself!”
“I’m fine.” Jupiter responded, turning the page of his newspaper and hurrying up to the glass doors.
And once he thought he was free from his nosy and noisy employees, he was greeted by a small protest at his doors. Surely over some clean energy thing that Jupiter had no interest in at that particular moment. Sure, the environment is important – matter of fact, Jupiter thinks it is extremely important if he is to bring Rome to its former glory – but his aerospace company is a long way from being able to operate without jet fuel.
“Mother earth killer!” Someone shouted at him and Jupiter sighed as he tucked his hands into his pockets. Hypocrites, all of them. They like to degrade his use of jet fuel until one of them needs to fly halfway across the world.
Jupiter tossed the newspaper towards the protester and the protester fumbled to catch it, “Recycle this please.” Plebeian.
A black car awaits him at the curb, bodyguards holding back the protesters who seem more confused than organized. The driver had been informed ahead of time where to drive him, a preference Jupiter expressed to his assistant as he likes his car rides to be as silent as possible. Instead of making light conversation, something he finds rather wasteful of his breath, Jupiter stares out the window at the American citizens he will one day make his. He nearly grins at the thought of it; Rome, glorious, built again. Some might call it an obsession of his, but Jupiter prefers to think of it as a purpose.
The car pulls up to the restaurant and Jupiter slides smoothly from his seat. He throws a couple of bills onto the seat he once occupied, tipping his driver a little something extra as there is a chance he’ll come back with a temper. Not that his brothers made him temperamental, but rather discussing godhood politics was a source of great frustration for him.
He didn’t bother listening to the owner of the restaurant, not even acknowledging him as the owner greeted him with a ‘Mr. Kingsley, you’re brother is-‘. Jupiter knows where his brother is; the penthouse, like always. It’s a waste of conversation to confirm something Jupiter already knows, so Jupiter sees no point in discussing it. Instead, Jupiter enters the elevator and presses the button to the top floor.
The doors open into the penthouse; it is nice and beautiful by modern mortal standards, yet Jupiter can’t help but compare it to the sweeping architecture of Rome made with hard labor and mathematical precision. And there was his brother, Janus, standing amongst it all. Of them all, Jupiter believes Janus adapted the best, as expected of him.
“Julius, you are here early. Like always.” It’s the most Jupiter has said this morning, having been buried in paperwork since the early hours, and ignoring anyone who tried to hold conversation with him. “The others must not be long now.”
Jupiter meandered around the room, studying the interior that he has grown accustomed to. Jupiter has always lived as a King, lavishly and extravagantly, but being a capitalistic king was a whole new experience. Well, it was some odd years ago when he first conquered the transportation industry.
If he could get out the door, that is.
“Mr. Kingsley, you have received an important message from – ” His assistant hurried after his steps, his formal shoes clacking on the tile like tap shoes on a mat.
Jupiter didn’t bother glancing up from the newspaper he was reading, “No.”
The assistant hesitated and Jupiter’s long strides took him far away from whatever nobody wanted to contact him. He passed by the circular desk at the front of the building, and Helena perked up at the sight of him. Her eyes roved over him, looking for anything out of place, until she spotted something absolutely juicy. Nothing could get past Helena, the gossip hound of the company.
“Mr. Kingsley, did you fall and bruise your neck?” She asked innocently, as boldly calling it a ‘hickey’ would certainly land her in hot water. “I hope you didn’t hurt yourself!”
“I’m fine.” Jupiter responded, turning the page of his newspaper and hurrying up to the glass doors.
And once he thought he was free from his nosy and noisy employees, he was greeted by a small protest at his doors. Surely over some clean energy thing that Jupiter had no interest in at that particular moment. Sure, the environment is important – matter of fact, Jupiter thinks it is extremely important if he is to bring Rome to its former glory – but his aerospace company is a long way from being able to operate without jet fuel.
“Mother earth killer!” Someone shouted at him and Jupiter sighed as he tucked his hands into his pockets. Hypocrites, all of them. They like to degrade his use of jet fuel until one of them needs to fly halfway across the world.
Jupiter tossed the newspaper towards the protester and the protester fumbled to catch it, “Recycle this please.” Plebeian.
A black car awaits him at the curb, bodyguards holding back the protesters who seem more confused than organized. The driver had been informed ahead of time where to drive him, a preference Jupiter expressed to his assistant as he likes his car rides to be as silent as possible. Instead of making light conversation, something he finds rather wasteful of his breath, Jupiter stares out the window at the American citizens he will one day make his. He nearly grins at the thought of it; Rome, glorious, built again. Some might call it an obsession of his, but Jupiter prefers to think of it as a purpose.
The car pulls up to the restaurant and Jupiter slides smoothly from his seat. He throws a couple of bills onto the seat he once occupied, tipping his driver a little something extra as there is a chance he’ll come back with a temper. Not that his brothers made him temperamental, but rather discussing godhood politics was a source of great frustration for him.
He didn’t bother listening to the owner of the restaurant, not even acknowledging him as the owner greeted him with a ‘Mr. Kingsley, you’re brother is-‘. Jupiter knows where his brother is; the penthouse, like always. It’s a waste of conversation to confirm something Jupiter already knows, so Jupiter sees no point in discussing it. Instead, Jupiter enters the elevator and presses the button to the top floor.
The doors open into the penthouse; it is nice and beautiful by modern mortal standards, yet Jupiter can’t help but compare it to the sweeping architecture of Rome made with hard labor and mathematical precision. And there was his brother, Janus, standing amongst it all. Of them all, Jupiter believes Janus adapted the best, as expected of him.
“Julius, you are here early. Like always.” It’s the most Jupiter has said this morning, having been buried in paperwork since the early hours, and ignoring anyone who tried to hold conversation with him. “The others must not be long now.”
Jupiter meandered around the room, studying the interior that he has grown accustomed to. Jupiter has always lived as a King, lavishly and extravagantly, but being a capitalistic king was a whole new experience. Well, it was some odd years ago when he first conquered the transportation industry.
