| Never Tasted Sweeter (Prometheus) |
[22 Dec 2007|12:41am] |
(After this.)
Peitho was gone now, and Aphrodite was left alone with Prometheus. Already her powers were working. It wasn't that Aphrodite didn't want Peitho knowing about what she was going to do; if her daughter inquired Aphrodite would tell her the truth. There was nothing wrong with what she was going to do with Prometheus. Not after what he'd done to her. It had been a long time since it'd happened, but it just made revenge all the sweeter as it boiled over inside of her. Her eyes were unforgiving and cold as they watched him. She would have loved to tear his throat out or chain him to the mountain again. But Aphrodite was not a violent Goddess. Instead her revenge for him would be of a much sweeter sort.
The space between them was dropped, and Aphrodite was against him before he could move away. Voice sweeter than the melodies Philammon blessed the world with. "Prometheus... It's been ever so long since you've been to see me. Why is that?" They both knew why, but the more naive she looked the sweeter the act about to happen. Aphrodite and Prometheus were not strangers to each other. The titan liked feeling powerful didn't he? He liked being wanted, and needed by someone. Aphrodite did want him, in more ways than one. She'd kill two birds with one stone. She needed someone strong enough to curb her desire, and she needed Prometheus to be in as much pain as she had been.
It was perfect. She looked perfect. The Goddess' skin was perfect and unmarred. The tan was set into her skin without the aid of the sun. Eternal youth and beauty staring right back at Prometheus. "Didn't you miss me? Didn't you miss what I could do for you?" Aphrodite's sweet voice turned on a dime and dropped into a breathy whisper. "Don't you miss what I used to do for you? I know you do. I know you've thought about me. No one is ever going to compare to what I was or what I did for you." Aphrodite's warmth dropped away as she stepped back.
"I should leave you to your thoughts." Not that she would. But now he had the idea planted into his head, and Aphrodite fueled it. Lust twined around him and Aphrodite just stood there, looking towards the door, as if she were going to go. He had ever so much to think about. Limbs tangled together and gasping for air they didn't even need.. He could think about that. In fact. She placed the very thought into his head.
She loved being herself.
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| Floating Between Worlds (Erebos; Open to Erebos' Family) |
[22 Dec 2007|08:56am] |
There was a nervous pitch of activity at Epidaurus that Asklepios could not remember since... well, he couldn't honestly remember a single incident that had caused so much grief for either side. Zeus had a temper, and anyone who crossed him was a fool for forgetting, but somehow the healer didn't think that Erebos had forgotten a thing. It had been difficult, trying to ask any questions of the Protogenos. He was not yet prepared to answer any questions, and Asklepios did not truly know why he was asking in the first place. He certainly couldn't approach Zeus to tell him that Erebos was alive. Asklepios' domain was smaller than the king of the gods, or the king of the sea, or the king of the underworld. It was nothing more, really, than a few humble buildings of stone and an amphitheater. A gymnasium and a dining hall. It was his domain, nonetheless, and he had long ordered that no violence would be done here. Whether or not Zeus would respect that order was another thing entirely. Asklepios knew that no wound could be given or suffered here, but pain was still possible, and he risked having the ire of Zeus turned against him for sheltering Erebos here.
Still, the news of the day was good, from the god of medicine's point of view.
( Erebos was alive. Darkness had returned to the world. )
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| Bass Kick (Tyr) |
[22 Dec 2007|09:15am] |
The night had turned into something of a whirlwind. One after another, never stopping to check, never wanting to know where they were going. Shamash had either had too much whiskey, or not enough. But lights blurred together on South Beach, especially when you didn't really care where you ended up. After leaving that club, they went on to another. And another. Somehow they were the life of the party, a one handed bushman-looking guy with long hair and a sword along with a tall and narrow pale man who had too many lines in his face. They never ran out of money. Distantly Shamash's mind told him that they would destroy the U.S. economy if they kept minting their own money, but that was before the transvestite had struck up a conversation with him. They were living the lives that people only dreamed of living in the span of one night, and Shamash was sure that it would kill him. He wrote a note on his chest, in special marker that only appeared under blacklight. Disjointed, crude and upside down - you would have to stand on your head to read the note properly - Shamash had reminded himself never to go out with a Norse god again.
( They were going to ruin him. )
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| Hocus Pocus (Set) |
[22 Dec 2007|09:46am] |
That was the problem with burning down your sister's home. What did you do for a follow-up? Gwydyon knew that she wasn't dead, knew that she couldn't possibly have killed herself. But for that small second, he'd been fooled. That little minx. She wanted him to follow her, even if she didn't know it. And that meant that Gwydyon was going to stay away. He was going to be very public in every thing that he did. A lovely home. A great deal of money and status that went along with it. Very, very public. When she was tired of waiting for him to come to her, she was going to come to him. The thought made Gwydyon smile. Arianrhod would come to him sooner or later, seeking to take things that meant nothing more to him than the effort he'd put into acquiring them. And that was when he'd send her on her way for good, make sure she knew the truth of the situation. All those years he'd spent believing that she was dead were growing sour for him; with each that second that passed, he imagined another thing she loved vanishing because she was too proud.
Because she had hated their son. Their son, dead and gone now, was well-hated by Arianrhod.
( There were other things to do, now. )
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| Miss Information (Tag: Peitho) |
[22 Dec 2007|11:12pm] |
(OOC: This takes place before this thread.)
Set stared up at the ceiling, blinking. Just sort of blinking, and letting thought after thought run through his mind. Counting to ten to deal with his frustration had proven just about as useless as any other method, and he had tried a good deal of them. So now he was just staring, recalling the things that had ticked him off lately as he relaxed in his bed inside his temple in Egypt. That little boy on the tower was one, and that ice bitch, whoever she was, was another. And then there was the shrink, though that was mostly a poor choice of words on the guy's behalf. Set understood that. He didn't consider himself to be unreasonable, he'd just been pissed off at the time. And then there was Alathea, who had become his friend and then up and hated him ten minutes later, for why he still couldn't figure out. And Set couldn't forget about Isis, the sister who sought to rub his face in a pile of shit as if she were the master and he was some type of dog. Ironically enough it was Isis' shit that stunk, and not his own.
And all of that in less than a week. Set laid out his bed in his temple in Egypt in a pair of red silk boxers, with red silk sheets reaching up to about his waist. One arm relaxed over his bare stomach while the other was nestled between his head and a pillow, propping his head up a bit as he just stared at the ceiling. He breathed in, and breathed out, just trying to relax. Trying to let it all flow, to let it roll off his back like the rain. He wasn't unreasonable. He wasn't. He wasn't the animal here. They were. He wouldn't prove them right. Wouldn't give them that kind of satisfaction. His teeth clenched and unclenched, his fingers tightened and loosened as he thought, continuing to lay in bed and stare up at that boring, drab fucking ceiling.
( He really needed a painting up there, or... or something. )
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| Pick yourself up, brush yourself off, start all over again |
[22 Dec 2007|11:37pm] |
from here
"I don't remember," Eos paused. "No, wait. I think it was Sooo..." She made a face. "Sooooooo...so...ter? Soter. I was very drunk. I don't know where he went to, but I think he helped me get to the bathroom I passed out in."
She didn't mention Enyo because she wasn't sure if she'd really seen her or not and because it wasn't a name to invoke in front of someone as kind as Sif. Saying a god's name was invoking them in a way. Like saying Voldemort...only Eos was pretty sure Enyo was worse than Voldemort. If Enyo was given a pet bunny, she'd kill it, smear the insides on the wall and throw knives at the skin. It was an awful opinion to have of someone. Eos realized this. Enyo had never been rude to her nor had she thrown knives at bunnies in her presence, but sometimes she could just read these things in people.
The more important topic, aside from her own drunken adventures, was Sif's renewed interest in Loki. Perhaps the love goddess of her pantheon was out to curse the poor woman. Eos did not have any fondness for love goddesses for that very reason. They were petty and cruel.
"It made you wonder what it would have been like, if you'd been with him instead?" Eos asked. She placed a hand on the shoulder of her golden-tressed friend. "I've heard the stories of your people. I know how you feel about him, but I can't help but think you should be glad you weren't with him. Catching poison to keep it from dripping on your lover's face doesn't sound like a life to want or need, does it?"
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| Uncertainty (Nyx, Hades, Hermes) |
[22 Dec 2007|11:43pm] |
It had been a rage-filled king of the gods, when his son returned to him with the news. What was more foolish - war, or pursuing the course of peace without first speaking to him? The conversation had been spirited but short. Hermes seemed to think that Hades wished to... if not show a measure of humility, at least apologize for those transgressions he had committed. Or something to that effect. The idea of war was not one Zeus especially savored, and if he could gain those things that he wanted without it, he would try. Athena's words still echoed in his mind. Essentially calling him a fool. Essentially questioning his wisdom. She had not shied away from a fight, once, long ago. When the world by any standard had still been young. Zeus didn't know if she was right or not - what he did know was, one way or another, he meant to end the attacks on his family. If that meant destroying all of them in one pure go, he would do that. Without any hesitation. If that meant shedding his own brother's blood... he had killed some more important to him, and for less.
( The time had come to end this. )
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