| Out of the Closet (tag: Philotes) |
[07 Jan 2008|04:21pm] |
Tyche had gone to harass the kitchen about their bad room service, leaving Nemesis alone in Fortune’s penthouse. That also left Nem alone with her thoughts. Sometimes, being alone with her thoughts was not a good thing. This was one of those times. There was too much going on, to many people thinking of getting back at someone else.
Too much need for Retribution. Yet none called for her.
Zeus wanted payback for what Erebos did; Akheron wanted justice for what was done to his son; Lottie was pissed about being locked away from the fighting. And then there was Nyx and most of her siblings upset about what Zeus did to Daddy.
There was one of those that Nem could do something about. She could take care of it while Tyche took care of room service, or whatever. She scribbled a quick note to her friend, explaining where she went and that she would be back as soon as she could. She should be gone long. Might even be back before Tyche if it went well.
She opened the door to the bathroom in Tyche’s penthouse and walks though to her own bedroom back at Caesar’s Palace. She couldn’t leave Philotes and Oizys confined, even if it was for the best. She moved armoire away from her closet door and knocked once.
“Lottie? Oi? I’m going to let you out now.” Nem opened the door and stepped back, not being exactly sure how her sisters were going to react after being locked away against their will. Perhaps she could talk to them and make them see how things really were. Especially Lottie.
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| Golden Opportunity (tag: Eos) |
[07 Jan 2008|05:21pm] |
It had taken her more time than she would have liked, but far less than she’d indicated to Aphrodite that she would need, to come up with a way to put their plan in motion. The difficulty that she faced was not only how to reveal what had transpired between the goddess of love and Prometheus, but coming up with a plausible reason to contact Eos in the first place. After all, if she simply showed up and dropped the bomb, there was every chance she wouldn’t be believed. Which amused her in a rather twisted way.
After her meeting with Aphrodite, she’d returned to the forge, and though she’d considered finishing her cleaning project, she was more than happy to put it off. Physical labor was not her thing, no matter how badly Dolos’ room needed to be sterilized. She did nothing more than rid the room of the trash bags she’d already filled, though sadly she didn’t burn most of them in the forge as she’d planned. There really wasn’t time for that, but she couldn’t let go of the idea completely. So one bag was dragged toward the heat of the oven.
It was only after the smell of burning plastic and rubbish began to fill the space that Apate realized she should take this opportunity to poke around while Prometheus was absent. Surely there must be something here that she could use, some sort of information that could be gleaned. And certainly, there was. Just very little of it that could be applied to the current situation.
( Until she found the jar. )
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| More Than One Way to Skin A Cat (tag: Bast) |
[07 Jan 2008|07:28pm] |
Zelos’ head was in a million different places. This was not a good place for the king’s bodyguard to be. He needed to be prepared for anything and sharp enough to see that trouble before it could come into contact with Zeus. Especially now. The Underworld was stirring, plotting who knew what. Probably ready and willing to overthrow Zeus and take over for themselves. Odds were that he would end up having to fight his blood family before this mess was over.
Then there was Nike. Usually when he was having woman troubles, Zee would go to either Kratos or Zeus to talk. This time however, that choice just would not work. Kray would most likely be wrestling with his own feelings on Nike’s return. And this would not be a good time to disturb Zeus. The King had more pressing issues to deal with than Zee’s love life. Or lack thereof.
( It was time to get away for a bit. )
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| Algolagnia (Tag: Akheron) |
[07 Jan 2008|09:03pm] |
NOT WORKSAFE. PR0NZ.
High ran the cliffs upon which Hate stood, pale hand shoved hard against the cold metal comprising Akheron's door. He was inside; she felt her blood -- the same that ran through his veins ran through hers -- and she had little doubt he knew she was here, too. The welcome Deimos had given her the night before was as great as Akheron's lack of welcome now. The chill of it thrummed through her fingers and ran down her arm, like poison traveling insidiously to the heart of her. But Akheron was bound as all the rest of them to take her in at her request.
It felt like cheating. When last she'd left her river-brother, it had not been on the best of terms. Bold of her to come to him again, favors yet unasked and waiting on her tongue. They mingled bitterly with the taste of Deimos' vodka still coating the inside of mouth. For once, Styx doubted her own strength to travel the path she'd set before herself. She needed Akheron. She needed Pain. Whether or not he would help her remained to be seen.
A stiff wind roared over the thin landing just before her brother's door. She leaned her body against the metal to keep her balance. It was cold... Cold, very cold, like the water that ran in her river some distance from here. Strange that it did not feel good to her. Perhaps it was the alcohol in her system. She raised her fist and pounded on the door. There was no hope to hear a thing past the heavy metal, but if anyone had asked, she was certain she could hear screams. Doubtlessly they came from the souls her brother took into his tender care. Sometimes Styx wondered if the Oathbreaker's punishment was better or worse than what Akheron gave to his mortal charges. It hardly mattered... But she'd always been curious.
"Akheron," she said at the door, when he didn't immediately come to let her in. She wasn't one to beg; she hadn't begged since.... She couldn't remember. The vodka which had gone down so smoothly in the good company of Deimos began to sour in her stomach now. She despised asking for help. She should be strong enough to manage what must be done now, she should be able to manage herself well enough to endure whatever punishment she must in order to remain no liability to her family. But she wasn't.
She wasn't, and she knew she wasn't.
"Akheron!" she called, this time more insistently. Still, he made her wait. Crimson nails raked her newly-azure bangs out of her eyes. Those eyes deepened to a green darker than the summer leaves that scattered through the groves of white poplars below. Finally, she whispered, "I need you."
Galling.
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