| Return of the king (Phobetor) |
[14 Apr 2008|10:27am] |
Hades knew he had spent too much time away from his people - even in search for the answer to forestall of the battle to come. Instead, the bloodshed never happened and what alarmed - even frightened him was the silence that came after the deadline had passed.
That eerie weighted vacuum that no one could dispel or interpret.
He did not trust his brother nor anyone else - but the frustration that had been pent up in him could not be denied his outlet - just as he knew he should not delay his return any longer.
In a brief moment, he was back at the steps of his temple, his head bowed low as he reached out - where was everyone? Persephone? Makaria? His attendants scurried around upon his return but in their babble, he failed to understand what they were saying.
This numbing fear seeped through as much as he did not want to acknowledge it. "Leave me." He commanded the attendents as he retreated back to the judging halls, upon his throne - feeling the entire of Haides seeping into his being again. He was - one with the land, the kingdom, the rivers before him.
Hades did not call out to them but merely reached out - a strange new activity in a corner of the realm that triggered his consciousness with a quirk.
"Phobetor, son of Hypnos." the name barely left his lips.
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| Flood (Aphrodite) |
[14 Apr 2008|08:50pm] |
After returning from his visit with Eir, all Asklepios really wanted to do was fall back into bed. Sink into a wonderful mattress and forget he was conscious. Of course, events as they had so often done lately conspired against him. Late night rounds were not uncommon for him. Check in on the patients. See to their needs. No one ever went without in Epidaurus, and that was especially true now with the end of the conflict upon them. What Asklepios could not understand, however, was why any of his attendants had allowed Aphrodite to leave. Under her own power or not. These things did not make any difference. Her wounds were still fresh enough to require constant care, and with his ambrosia tonic in such short supply Asklepios refused to be without an emergency reserve. Life-threatening injuries only, he'd told himself, and he meant it. An hour of searching for Aphrodite somewhere in his temple, on the off chance she'd reconsidered, yielded no results that he would intentionally refer to as positive.
That meant she was gone.
( Somewhere. )
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| lack of decorum (Eris) |
[14 Apr 2008|09:40pm] |
The office door was open. The nameplate on the outside of it didn't match the goddess inside, but no one really ever noticed that. Everyone at the museum was fine with 'Ama;' they never asked what it was short for. And her false last name was plain enough that it didn't make anyone bat an eye, either.
Amaterasu was biting a pen between her two front teeth, alternately writing notes in a book by her left hand and scrolling through a list of recent acquisitions. The poster she'd hung behind her chair was one of them, and the other items from that same 1909 exhibit were on the list in front of her. No one even realized that, in 1909, Ama had done the exact same thing. Just somewhere else. And without a computer.
She needed a break. The goddess was in a very good mood, thanks to a certain sun god. But this was a lot of work. ( She had been cataloguing for hours. )
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| Norse Invasion (tag: Idun, Eir, Pothos) |
[14 Apr 2008|10:07pm] |
It was shameful really. Sigyn had been so wrapped up in cleaning and repairing Hedylogos’ home that she’d nearly forgotten about his brother. Someone that she actually had considered a friend. And she’d not remembered to think about him or his condition until Idun had brought him up. A surge of remorse pushed her into action. They would simply have to go see Pothos.
( But how? )
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| The Play's The Thing (tag: Bragi) |
[14 Apr 2008|10:09pm] |
Spring was definitely well underway in Goochland County, VA. The evidence being that the open air theater in the small park near the courthouse was staging the first play of the season. A musical play. A very specific type of musical play, actually. A melodrama.
Bast had been unable to resist when she had stumbled across the bright orange flyer advertising The Great Ice Cream Scheme. Serendipity, that’s what she decided that had to be, since she didn’t believe in coincidence. Given that she had just finished playing with ice cream with her best friend, it was simply too much to deny her curiosity. Besides, the Egyptian loved melodramas, and had since she’d discovered the plays just after the turn of this century. Right before the beginning of moving pictures actually, and the plays had been translated to film fairly easily. Though no words were spoken or sung, the musical cues were still given with the new form of media. You could still tell who was the good guy, who was the bad guy, and just what sort of mood was supposed to be set by the music played by the pianist, organist, or occasionally in larger cities, by the orchestra. Though in her opinion, the best was the Wurlitzer organ, especially when they used it to do sound effects as well.
( Tonight, it looked as though they’d be getting music in the form of an electronic keyboard. )
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