mythopoeics

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: Castor]

♥ Nice try, kitten.

[Filter: Public]

It seems I have to head out of town this weekend. Croatia, it seems. I should just purchase a little vacation house there one day. It's idyllic.

Someone make sure Liam doesn't get into a fight bigger than he can handle.

Don't mind me. I just want to try something.

For the record, yes, I am Theseus. Yes, I probably have fucked you over. And ate your lamb. It was delicious.

[Filter: Children of Theseus (Zurvan, NYC, myth) + Pirithous]

Daddy is saying hello, kids. Don't be shy. Come to Papa. Also, tell me who your mother was so I know if you're from Greek times, New York or now.

( may the lights in the land of plenty shine on the truth some day )

Svarga's always nice in the winter. But I think I'm done here now.

I'm definitely being overcharged by my blonde redheaded friend anyway. Gods know she's good but she'd not sparing me. Wants to take every coin I have and can get my hands on. It's sort of cute.

Should probably count what I have left in a moment.

[Filter: Pirithous]

I feel like Mictlan's calling to us, brother. I'm heading out tonight there from Svarga. Should be there in about a couple of days. What do you say?

It feels a little stupid to have to say this, but apparently people: 1. Aren't using their brains. 2. Aren't in possession of a brain. or 3. Don't know the point of a graveyard.

Playing hide and seek and using the graves I'm digging as a hiding place isn't smart or polite. The next person to do so might find out what it's like to get buried alive.

Just stay the fuck out of my graveyard.

One of my sons gripped my fingers and smiled.

I'm proud to be a father.

A man approaches you in the woods and attempts to steal your food from you after you haven't eaten in days. You're starving and exhausted. He's more worn out than you are, and you debate keeping the food for yourself, sharing it, or giving it away.

What do you do?

All this talk of nobility and marriages makes me want to celebrate. Actually, I lie. It makes me want to hit things or drink something so potent that I run the risk of blindness. Seriously, who are these people that these are problems?

To that end, I think I will be spending the evening at our local tavern. There are barstools and heads to be broken and bigger fish to fry.