| Patience ( Open ) |
[02 Jan 2008|07:51pm] |
How long had she been waiting? How long had it been since the night at the Opera with her sister Athena? She hadn't recounted any of this to her husband, who was not with her now. No, she'd simply hoped that Athena would relay her troubles as she could not do so herself. Maybe she should call on her? Calling her sister and asking about progress would make her seem a little desperate maybe, but she had not gotten word, not even a message of how things went. She was quite visibly worried. She worried over many things, even as to how Zeus would react to her trying to reach him in such a way after all this time of estrangement. She was wondering what he'd said or if Athena had even mentioned her name. If she had gone, she would have done everything in her power to change his mind. Anything. She would protect her kingdom and her subjects to the best of her ability. She would have done her best to slow if not stop the gears of war from turning. His insistence that she stay behind was a bit disconcerting. She understood that she had constantly shown distrust and distaste of her father, but this was something that had to do with her kingdom. Her lack of presense made it feel like he needed to protect her. She understood why he'd feel that way. ( She was pacing. ) |
| What Skin Is Not [ open to Tyche ] |
[02 Jan 2008|08:55pm] |
Anteros removed himself from Olympus when the first stirrings of his father's element took to the air. After his unexpected run-in with Deimos, he wasn't sure if he could stomach another war. Why couldn't there be time to repair damages that still lingered from the last battle? Why couldn't there be time to find what was lost? Anteros wanted the chance to know his brother again before uncrossable lines were drawn in the sand. There weren't many times in the past where Anteros could have a conversation with Fear that didn't end in the exchange of punches and arrows. Deimos had changed and Anteros wanted the chance to know how. This constant cycle of death was worse than any Spanish day-time soap opera he'd watched on his vacation, the one that seemed to have happened so very long ago. Perhaps he needed to take another vacation. This time in another part of the world where Greeks were few. Maybe Iceland?
He came to a stop in the hallway of the Bellagio. Was it unfair that he was here now? Would she hate that he'd returned as silently as he'd left her? It would not be the first time he'd held a fragile feeling in his hands and ruined it. There were walls that he'd passed through the last time he visited her and he'd given her space, to decide what she thought of it. She hadn't been able to tell him then. Anteros was concerned with her thoughts. If he wasn't, then this would have been a game.
Anteros paused and watched her exit her rooms. Tyche either hadn't noticed his presence yet or didn't want to acknowledge him. He watched how she turned the lock as if she needed it and flipped up the collar of the coat she wore. Something was lacking in her posture. As she turned on her heel and made to walk in the other direction, Anteros caught up with her and reached down to capture her wrist.
"Where are you going?"
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