mythopoeics

[ Waking up in an apartment that wasn't his own wasn't a surprise. Really, he'd become far too used to all the relocation. Waking up alone was even less of a surprise. It was the Beretta laying on the pillow next to him that gave him pause. He'd never really been a firearm person, being someone who preferred more intimate weapons-- blades, for instance. But he'd take what he could get.

Tucking the gun into the back of his jeans, he'd scoured the apartment, which was bare bones enough to suit his tastes. But he wasn't going to stay. He wasn't going to reach out just yet either. Stepping out of the apartment, he noticed something wasn't quite right. It was too quiet. He wasn't going to risk calling out, in the event something unexpected decided to show its face.

They appeared once he'd managed to get himself a block away from the complex. So New York was overrun by plant life, no big deal. The velociraptors that hopped onto the car in front of him were another story. The fuckers were hurling themselves at him before he had the chance to draw the gun. The Starbucks across the road called to him, and so figuring the door wouldn't just happen to be unlocked, he shot three times at the door, slamming his weight into it and shattering the glass. By some miracle, the bathroom door was not locked, and so as he threw the door shut, he felt one of the raptors slam into it. He locked it, stepped away, and collapsed against the closest wall.

Well, fuck.]

[ mass text to mordred, horsemen, and raven ]
are you fucking serious

[The family surgeon had taken care of the gash on one arm she sustained after having been tackled by one of her men and had dug the bullet from leg with an efficiency that even impressed Death. He hadn't had the luxury of time to make it painless but Death's mind had been elsewhere anyway. Maybe she should have seen it coming. A drive-by, the rivalry. If she hadn't been involved, she would have given then whole thing an admiring glance but some of the men that had gone down had been her property (whether they believed that right now or not) and she had had a bullet dug out of her leg.

And between the two who had been closest to her, the fucking heavyweight had taken her down. For her own good and all but she had a feeling there was a cracked rib to be minded.

Someone was going to pay.]

What a noisy afternoon yesterday contained. Some people.

[Filter: Horsemen]

Yes, I was involved if you heard about what happened. Yes, I'll live.

No, of course I'm not letting this go, temporary era or not. Blood will stain these streets again.

[She had woken and found her wardrobe changed. Not a big deal but enough to make her cautious. She's ventured out after changing into something bright orange with pearls (she loved throwing off others). But when she made a move to go out, she was asked "to where?". It gave her pause as she eyed her driver that she had known for a long driver before she told him exactly where: to the den.

Instead of agreeing, he laughed and told her that her father would kill him if he let the man's "little girl anywhere near that place". Never one to let her anger show or even be her first choice in emotional response, she asked when this had started.

Apparently it always had been in place. Knowing it was more logical to figure out things that force the issue, she retreated to one of the rooms after finding her journal to speak with those on the community.]

I don't even know where to begin except I know the clothes do not make up for the troubles this place causes.

[Filter: Horsemen]

How are all of you?

Seeing fat people not only eat, but also lick the grease off their fingers, is nauseating. I nearly threw up my lunch earlier. No one can tell me otherwise.

[ filter; war ]
Feeling any better these days?

[ filter; horsemen ]
We should do something, the four of us.

[ filter; gabriel ]
If you touch her, I'm plucking your wings.

Single white female searching for a job. Will not do anything too disgusting or unethical, but is open for suggestions. Prefers to do as little as possible for as much money as possible.

[Filter: Horsemen]
Are you done talking about humping?

[Filter: Horsemen]

technically, we can't fucking kill archangels, can we?

[ filter; gabija & mordred ]
It occurred to me I never told you my mortal name. It's Carmine. Whether or not I'm in uniform if we meet, Carmine is more socially acceptable than Uriel. I'd also like to ask you a favor: please do not divulge my real name publicly. I don't plan to make my presence as an angel known.

[ filter; diva ]
I'm visiting Lucia tomorrow at 1, if you and Mark would like to come. I know it's last minute.

[ filter; horsemen ]
I am aware of our arrangement in Zurvan, but it no longer is our reality. We co-exist and share this earth together, but it isn't in our nature to mingle or procreate. However, should you have need of me, I will do what's in my power to help you. You know what I'll allow, and what He allows of His angels.

[ filter; death ]
You aren't still with child, are you?

[ filter; gabija ]
Are you feeling better?

THERE IS A FUCKING WINGED FUCKER OUT THERE WHO IS GOING TO DIE.


TWO FUCKERS ACTUALLY.

RUN, BITCH.

Immediately waking and knowing she was home again, Death went to have a full examination of herself. The absolute works to make sure nothing undesirable lurked within. When the assurance of that was given, she took to her bed during the day and threw herself into work at night. There was zero contact with the other Horsemen and she knew it was wrong, neglectful and unlike herself for sure. But there was a certain fury and even madness that has dragged her from her comfort zone, something she did not want to throw toward those she held nearest to herself. In all her previous lives that she had been damned with children, she had never recovered well.

The package was a surprise. She needed to read the card to remember she had turned twenty-eight years old today. A warmth crept into her as she read the words her bony one has written. In some form, it was encouraging though she immediately snorted once the word popped into her brain. It was the first time since her unpleasant realization she was in an unwanted situation that she actually felt a bit lighter.

She'd give him and War a call later. A 'hello', an implication of an apology for her silence, something that would last below a couple of minutes but be meaningful enough.

It's too bad this war has to get all the attention. I'd start my own if I could.

[ filter; horsemen ]
Horsemen and archangels in holy matrimony, who would have thought?

So who is more likely to win this war? If I don't say my own region, I'd be such a shit Iriyian, wouldn't I? Even if I identify as being something else by birth.

[filter; death]
You've been quiet.

While I'd love to say something like "Iriy, my how you've changed", I hardly think now is the time.

[Filter: Private]

No one should be sick this long. Something is very much not right.

[Filter: Uriel]

I wanted to write 'cough cough' but I'm not coughing, I'm sore, headache-y and nauseous still, doctor. Diagnose me and then cure me. No one should have to look at their bedroom ceiling for this long. Unless they are a sex slave but one would presume they would be flipped once in a while on to their knees. Or be put up by their wrists. Or against the wall.

Yes, you may ignore everything after the third sentence.

[Filter: Hades]

If I die, I am going to haunt you. Without provocation, of course. You are free, however, to give me a reason.

who in the fuck makes letter openers so sharp

unless this wasn't





GABRIEL WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS KNIFE DOING HERE

[Iriy was better at night, Famine realized, even when the streetlamps bled into the forgotten alleyways and lit up the crooks and crannies that were meant to be hidden. He didn't want to use the word "prettier", but it was. Easier on the eyes, easier to slip in and out unnoticed. He could be anyone in the dark.

Not in the best of moods that night, nor in the best of neighborhoods, he was momentarily blinded by the headlights a passing car before he felt the blade of a knife pierce him through coat and journal. And had the journal not been there, maybe the knife might have gone deeper. The wallet was picked from his pocket, and soon the knife and the person holding it were gone into the wind. Mugged and stabbed in an empty street. It was pathetic.

So he laughed.]

[ filter; family ]

fuck

[It had taken her a good few repetitive scrubs all over until she was raw pink ever inch and two baths in near-scalding water to completely feel she had become clean again. Then the servants had been set to making sure the bathroom gleamed like new so her husband would never realize how much blood (and who knew what else) had just gone down the drain. And if she was asked why she was so squeaky clean? She'd tell him it had to do with her lady parts.

The life of being a secret criminal. It was so hard sometimes.]

[Filter: Hades]

Dear older brother,

Today, I had the opportunity to be soaked in blood. It was irritatingly messy since nearly one-half of myself was nearly drenched and I have spat more than a camel today whenever I think I taste blood. Contrary to popular belief among the staff, I don't like the taste of blood and never well. But it appeared he had been cheating us in one of the gambling dens. It wouldn't have looked good if someone else had handled it.

Uriel is still unaware he touches hands that have probably seen more death than his. But then he is a man who heals and treats. Grips hands gently until the life is gone from the body. I'm oddly possessive of him as I am with all of my family. He fits in well here.

And that is what has been happening in Iriy. Please tell me you'll be visiting at some point.

Probably with some kind of love,
Death

P.S. Also, I know this isn't a real letter but I felt like writing one.

[filter; mordred & gabija]
I hope my letters got to both of you. The post is not always reliable. How are you both?

[filter; death]
I'll be home late tonight.

[Imagine her surprise this morning when the delivery came... for her. And imagine her surprise upon realizing how...pink it was. Frilly and pink and... proper. It was not a cheap dress either.

Only her siblings would think this amusing. War did crack a wry smile before returning to her usual rant-slash-rage self.]

[Filter: Gabriel]

Do not. fucking ask about the pink.

Just. Don't.

[Filter: Siblings]

If anyone ever sends me anything pink again, I will go to your home and feed it to you.

I know where you all live- DEATH.

[ private ]

Medb. Medb. I'm not sure whether to yell and shout or laugh out right. Conchobar lays dead, the pestilent, disgraceful maggot. Cúchulainn followed. And that thing my sister spawned is food for worms.

Good.

[ / ]

While your actions were misguided and odd, you have my gratitude, sister. Or whoever you are in the larger scheme of things. I would appreciate this was a one time event.

And the woman who helped me. I suppose you didn't do this for words of thanks alone.


This will take some getting used to.

[When she finally woke up, War felt uncomfortable and cranky. Lord, she was fucking cranky. The ceiling was too white, the sheets were too itchy and there too many tubes going into her mouth, her wrist- and the instinct was to shove them all out. So War did just that, to the alarm of the nurses - which had then ended up in the whole fiasco of having to be strapped to the bed. A week or so trapped in a chemical-induced calm had War so furious it was a miracle no one had been set on fire by the power of her will.

War waking up to flowers and a pair of hulk hands was never going to end well. It just couldn't end like that, even if the ghost of a smile crossed her expression. She's drowsy as fuck, but that had never stopped War before. Oh well.

Her wrists unstrapped, she yanked off the drip and reached over for the phone.]

[Filter: Gabriel]

you feathery fucking stalker

[Filter: Horsemen]


im awake now someone bring me something to fucking eat

[Filter: Gawain]

our parents are freaking the fuck out
tell them to calm down
or ill have to punch someone.

[Filter: CuSith]


rematch bitch

[Filter: Horsemen]

I was patient for a while. And then I decided not to be any longer.

Famine, do you know where War is?

War, if you see this, tell us where you are. And, from now on, we are one another's emergency contacts if we already aren't.

[ filter; apollo ]
Why did you do it?
Why did you make us
Are you home yet?

[ filter; calliope ]
She didn't watch did she?

[ filter; angels ]
I'm sorry
Everyone alright and accounted for?

[ filter; war ]
Are you alright?

[ filter; public ]
Well this is new; I've never been a zombie before.

Apparently the hospital staff frowns upon patients trying to insistently check themselves out in a stupor. Needless to say I'm well rested now although my side and gut still feel as though they've been split open, and pretty sure I've eaten my weight in blue jello.

Lena I'm sorry for falling into that candy striper, and knocking over a gurney... and anything else any damages I may have caused the hospital. Thank you for having them sedate me

Nyx woke up connected to tubes and machines. Her head hurt. Her side and ribs hurt. She felt she'd been torn open. She didn't know why. Or what. She remembered fighting in the arena. But this was NY. She could tell by the smells and the fact she was a in a real hospital. Her lips pursed as she tried to move but found she couldn't.

Her eyes drifted shut. Then snapped open. She'd DIED. Her mother had let her DIE. Her mother had engineered her death in some fashion. That made her angry. The monitor on the side of her bed started beeping as her blood pressure climbed. In a minute she was surrounded by nurses and a doctor, who were struggling to hold her down. Despite the pain (and by no mistake there was a lot of it) and wounds, she wanted to find and strangle her mother.

They shoved her back down as gently as possible, and shot something into the IV line. She had a moment of clarity before she drifted under. When she woke again a few hours later, she remained calm and made a quiet request for a laptop and that the lights remain low. She inquired as to what had happened. She was confused to learn she'd been shoved, they said, off the balcony of the second floor of Nightshade and had landed on a table, some glass and other misc bar things, and had done internal damage as well as broken a few ribs, plus some nasty gashes. "Oh. Right. I.. sorry the meds, you know." she waved her forgetfulness off with a sigh, "I don't want any more medication, please"she said softly and waited for them to leave.

Well. It's nice to be home. I think.

Also. Ow.

( let the flames begin )

[War was not dead. That was the first foolish thought Death had. The second was that she could deal with this. That was a utter fucking joke, just the way Khaos had made death seem (unforgivable, it was unforgivable entirely).

The loss of Famine a year ago had been bad and the sense of feeling lost and uncertain had come before weighing heavily on them all. It had also been the start of her realizing they were not nearly as strong as she believed them to be.

Through no fault of their own, of course. It was that Khaos bitch. She had condemned them and she had lead them to this existence as perishable meat. Throughout the months, Death learned to cope and even began to allow those not in their tight little circle to help them. To be of use. They had to learn to cooperate with those around them, at least those worthy of them who would not wreck their balance or overtake another Horsemen in importance.

And now War was dead. And Death, as calm as she appeared outwardly, felt something crawl around inside even as it began to fester. She hadn't left the arena when she began to write to her comrades.]

[Filter: Horsemen]

I want her body. We need to find a way to get her body.

I am perfectly calm, I don't want to be questioned, we just need to get her back before they do anything to her. Anything at all.

You know what?

Go fuck yourselves. Yeah, read that right. FUCK YOU.

No fucking words.

[filter; echo]
Polly.

[filter; horsemen]
So I got a job. [address and store name] I don't know what my hours are yet. But it's full-time.

If you're going to make a joke about sausages, I suggest you make it now.

[filter; mordred]
Alive still?

Her family rarely had complaints about her. Aside from her lack of boyfriend - or girlfriend, her mother suggested one day in an attempt to feel our her daughter's interests but it just results in triggering a loud laugh from Death - she was perfect. She ran her end of things with the smoothness that was expected of her, never got into unnecessary fights. She came to dinner and remained until the night was over, not leaving a moment before. Her mother was allowed to run freely through her home, redecorating however she pleased. Her father could always count on his daughter to be prompt when asked for.

These people were just mortals who she would own one day. They weren't even close to God. They were deeply flawed and would never be seen again most likely. She would leave them no direct branch if she had things her way. Death simply found it entertaining to be this daughter. To witness their ups and downs, to play along with her perishables parents. They weren't boring in the slightest so why ignore them? Their deaths, when they would come, would be memorable.

And that was why she was at her mother's side soon after the woman wrecked her car and broke her leg, allowing her to clutch at her hand and moan loudly even after her father had told her to be silent three different ways.

He'd been the first to clutch someone's hand and offer a prayer of up to Him for not letting the accident end in tragedy. But Death saw no reason to point it out. The story worked better if she watched more.

Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya..

Actually it's Nate. Though some know me as Gabriel. I'm a Leo; I like average walks through the city, traveling, talking for hours on end, and I will eat anything you put in front of me that has an unhealthy amount of sugar. So what's the buzz, tell me what's happening?

Who do I know, who don't I know, who should I know? Talk to me, Goose!

[Azazel's perfect world should have been a harem of men waiting at his every beck and call. But it wasn't. In his perfect world, he had a family who loved him unconditionally. His family included not only the mortal parents who had disowned him, but all the other Blackwells, and his two sisters from Zurvan. And he certainly didn't mind the presence of Samael's lovely little concubines. They weren't exactly the Brady Bunch but Azazel was having one hell of a good time. In the back of his mind he knew it wasn't real, that it couldn't possibly last forever, but why not enjoy it while it was?]

Bottomless supply of wine. Check.

Every season of Project Runway. Check.

I would invite some of you over to partake in this glorious fiesta, but my flat is literally filled up!

[Pestilence's idea of a perfect world is not different from Famine's. In it he has two legs that work; his siblings are in harmony; Beast is not dying. But War and Death are not his only two siblings around. One of his half-sisters from Zurvan is a notable addition to the cramped one bedroom apartment. Sigyn spends most of her time draped across the couch in the living room, the scrawny feline named Gaunt all but glued to her lap. Or, at least that's what he sees when he returns home late at night and leaves early in the morning before Famine can question him about her presence.]


Is it over yet? These stupid tricks of theirs never last. Nothing ever does.

I dislike being kidnapped, maze or not, in group or not. I suppose none of you wackjobs has a proper explanation for this matter?

With my luck, you would claim to be a 'miracle' or a 'god' of some sort.

Good to see nothing changes.

I find myself in need of company for a formal dinner, male or female. Those who I do know here, I'll make an effort to be a proper date. Maybe with some alcohol in the mix, someone will cough up whatever's going on.

Carry on.

No more interning. No more. Big boy's a resident now (with a major loan to pay to Uncle Richard but hey, details, details). Still means I'll camp in the hospital but being paid better now's good.

Kids are good, apparently they spent the entire time while I was in Zurvan (with pod!me) cleaning up the house. Pod!me was one creepy dude. We've been putting it back to its decent, weird state now.

Angels. Bros. Hoes. Speak to me :( I miss you.

[Guilt was not a familiar sensation to Famine, but over the last couple of months, it was all he could breathe. It was all he could feel upon laying eyes on Pestilence, who had once been a source of amusement for him. Instead of living with his brother, he felt as if he was living with a beacon for all of the guilt that had been festering inside. And he hated it.

Vodka and cigarettes were what he could turn to for immediate relief, but even three screwdrivers couldn't assuage those feelings. If anything, it made him feel worse. It was against his policy to get smashed, but he was well on his way there (a lightweight, this one) when he flipped open his laptop to consult everyone else. Someone had to have an answer.]

If you had the ability to erase all capacity for feeling, would you do it? Not in death, but in life.

I am forty-something and I am bored. A most dangerous combination. Friday the thirteenth came and went with disappointing tedium and I am itching for a fight~

[filter; private]

Perhaps I can find some underlings who have misbehaved. A few bouts in the ring or in an alley might be just what I need, and I need my knuckles to split and bleed.

[Filter: Horsemen]

Come out, come out. I want to know if you're all whole.

Especially you, Pestilence.

[Filter: Public]

Did you all enjoy your Easter? My household has never managed to get it right. The air was pierced with shrieks and threats before some mangled idea of peace came. My mother's Easter has yet to come, though, on the fifteenth. That should be good.

Last year was more entertaining when it fell on the same day for both Western and Eastern Orthodox Christians. And, to think, neither of them are strongly faithful.

I sometimes wonder what I'll do without these two. I'll find out one day.

The lightness of her New York apartment unsettles her as she rises. She half-expects monsters to come creeping out of the silence. Monsters in the form of children she'd never had, eyes dark with the sting of betrayal. She'd betrayed them somehow, hadn't she? Why else would they be so battered, skinny and uncared for?

It takes a few steadying breaths to remind herself that these children are figments of her imagination. Merely machinations from the tender hands of that woman.

Her anger could not have been put into words, but she rallies herself into working order with the mundane routine of her typical workday. Soon enough her cheeks are dry, her expression drawn taut in forced normalcy. However, she does not forget that she owes her life to Death (as she always has) and types in a quick filter as her lunch break begins.

[Filter: Death]

Is your ... brother all right?

The jötunn Angrboda missed me when she tried to strike back. Is it hard to be so weak now, without the strength you once had?

Hm. The next one didn't escape, though. I left the wheelchair. It didn't seem important while taking the Horseman.

I'm getting so sick and tired of this. I have a life to deal with, I don't need be running around nowhere for who knows what reason. I need to bash something against a wall.

Who else is... here? Donovan, are you still alive? I don't know where this is, Google Maps isn't working and all I have is a compass. It's the 21st century, we have something called GPS.

[Death has been collecting people, it seems. It's not been so bad. Bodies she could use in case of, well, anything. She wasn't naive enough to think perhaps they also didn't think this way. It was the right way to go.]

I wish I had some cards on me. not for gambling but solitaire.

how many of you suspect those taken are actually dead?

[Ever since coming across Mordred, Famine had realized one thing: he wasn't unhappy. He remembered living a similar life in Zurvan, unaware of where he was going next, how he'd get to the next place. Though he was without horse and better supplies, it wasn't too bad.

But really, that was just an invitation for things to get worse. Best not to say all that outloud.]

[filter; private]
And happiest of birthdays to me.

[filter; horsemen]
General locations? I'm South of somewhere. Not sure which side I'm on.

I found a bunny in my trousers this morning!

I've decided to keep him. He looks rather angelic, all fluffy and white. Now which angel should I name him after, hmmm?

[filter; death & nanna]
I know we haven't spoken since we returned, but I hope you're all right, my darlings~ I will still think of you both as my sisters.

[filter; samyaza & kokabiel]
Brothers~

I need your opinion.

Online dating. Y/N?

What in the fucking hell is wrong with me? I have not had a proper goddamn smoke all goddamn day, because every fucking time I go to light the fucking thing, I'm holding a pigeon or a snake or some shit. I tried to smoke this morning, went to light the damn thing, and bam. Fucking baby snake.

Yes I'm fucking mad.

[filter; death]
It's cancer, but it was caught in an early stage. For the dog.

[filter; public]
For you, little brother.

[Filter: Death & Pestilence]

Death. Job details?

Pestilence. Nice job on the poisoning shit.



So we're all on the same fucking page: yes, I'm still pissed off at Famine for being a fucktard a few months ago.

[Filter: Lucifer]

Dude. Loserfer. Let's go set someone on fire.

Well. That was fun.

It's a shame we couldn't stay longer. I enjoyed it. I particularly enjoyed watching Glastheim burn to the ground while the people puked their guts out.

[She had gotten back to work fairly quickly. There was no hesitation. She had woken up, washed up and gotten to her gambling dens in time to collect. There were new faces, old faces that really showed what staying around her dens could do. Within days, she had gone over all that people owed her. Money, irreplaceable jewelry, cars, homes, even organs.

If she couldn't be given what she believed was still hers, this would do for now. At least until things were as they were once more.]

I did miss food of this world. Mostly fast food. I've a fondness for suspicious burgers right now. And tacos.

It's good to be here, I suppose.

[Filter: Horsemen]

Let's have dinner. Where Famine can eat not even one-tenth of what's on his plate but I'm selfishly thinking of the rest of us anyway. Besides, I'm looking forward to seeing how big the doggie bag gets for Beast. And the runty black creature that's more eyeballs than anything else.

But before that, War? I need something handled. You're jobless, right? It will pay though I think you'll enjoy it no matter what the amount is.