We're All Mad Here (Tag: Apollo)
(Takes place before this thread.) (Warning: Gore)
It was on fire. Everything. All of it. Hedylogos' home in Paris, France bore the signature of Pyriphlegethon, embers dancing from the rooftops, smoke billowing into the night sky.
"He finally shut up."
'At least one of them did.'
'Oh fuck you!'
'Fuck yourself, bitch!'
'Why don't you just go already? He doesn't want you here. He wants me. Isn't that right, dear?'
"I wish you would both stop arguing. You're going to drive me mad." Calm. Impassive.
There were four of them now, two having taken residency in his head. The voice that had come into possession of his sanity ever since Tartarus was still there, now with another to keep it company. A female voice. Now that Artemis' mouth was free of the spear she spoke to him openly, half with affection and half with complaints.
'Well then tell him to stop being an asshole, honey.'
'See that? She's telling you what to do.'
"..."
'Just ditch him Moros! Then we can go get my body back, and we can be together forever!'
'Just look at what we've accomplished together. What did Artemis ever do? She died, while everything was in her favor.'
'Shut your mouth! He's mine! I'll fucking kill you if you take him from me!'
'Ha. Because we've seen how good you are at killing anything above a gnat.'
"You're both... going..." he spoke softly, kneeling on the floor by Hedylogos' body, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, "to drive... to..."
'She started it.'
'Moros, sweetie, just get rid of him and-'
"To drive me MAD!!" he screamed, pushing himself to a stand and grabbing at his hair in desperation. "MAD!" Moros echoed the yell, eyes clenched shut, booted feet stomping around the room as his body twisted wildly, trying to shake these voices free.
They were still in Hedylogos' home, all four of them. There were a few bodies laying strewn about, but for the most part the living had long since abandoned this place, flaming debris falling from the ceiling, large sections of the walls and floors scorched black. The fourth was Hedylogos himself, laying a few feet away on the floor, his body stripped naked and pierced through with the broken shaft of Artemis' spear. His had been a much different experience than Artemis', his impalement and the final moments of his life running parallel.
He had still been alive when the crazed god ran him through with the wooden shaft, the tip piercing through his asshole, running all the way up to his throat. It had been broken when he struck Asklepios with it earlier, the metal tip breaking off, leaving a sharp wooden edge. And unlike Artemis who'd had it jutting out through her lips, Hedylogos' body had it coming out through his neck, just below his chin. Due to its reduced length his arms and legs weren't bound, instead left to hang freely. A similar gash was cut down the center of his abdomen, so the god would be able to lift and carry him with one hand when desired. 'NOT ARTEMIS' was carved along the god's chest in large, bloody letters.
'I concur. Indubitably, if our host does not wish a petty squabble, perhaps we should all be polite and abstain.'
Moros' eyes opened wide. He whipped around quickly to Hedylogos' body.
'Oh for fuck's sake, now we've got another one talking!'
'Please, our host has expressed a disinterest in our arguing. And furthermore, I do not believe such language to be suitable around a lady.'
'A lady! Do you hear that?'
'More like the Tramp if you ask me.'
'I'm a virgin you fucktard!'
'Only if you don't count anal.'
'Fuck you! I've been saving myself for my Moros!'
"STOP IT!!"
'Moros, when you come across the opportunity, would you mind terribly if you removed this pole from within me? I am unsure if you are aware of how many splinters I have incurred. Also, once you have finished with them, would you be so polite as to return my wings?'
All Hedylogos had left on his back was the bloody, broken cartilage that had once been laced with hundreds of beautiful white feathers. They had been harshly plucked off while he was alive, and now adorned Moros' back in a creatively similar fashion. It was actually quite interesting how the god had twisted a half dozen wire hangers, spray-painted the pile of feathers black and duct taped them to the wire frame to create a set of 'wings' that now sat on his back.
'I like them. They match his hair. He looks really hot.'