| Novocaine for the soul (Phobetor) |
[11 May 2008|12:05am] |
His neck still sort of hurt where Enyo had grabbed it.
Morpheus left Bucharest the minute he was out of that cafe, and got himself home, immediately. He needed a break. War. Hades in his bedroom. Family meeting. Flaming table. Getting throttled by Enyo. All he wanted was a few minutes to himself, in his own space, to clear his head. And Dream didn't think that was unreasonable, at all.
The scowl and the anger had worn off--slightly. Morpheus still looked a little out-of-sorts as he made his way to his building, but the Louisiana air was helping. It was amazing how someplace that wasn't the Underworld could feel so much, so very much like home.
( Before coming back to his apartment, he'd stopped for coffee-- coffee he'd actually get to drink and savor. )
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| No Apologies [tag: Eris] |
[11 May 2008|07:19pm] |
Out of the stillness of the bath a toe broke the surface, creating wake before continuing on to fiddle with the faucet. A faucet that didn't run water. Much like the water in the bath, all it poured forth was crimson. It wasn't just any bath, it was a warm and relaxing bath in the blood of her slain. Something she had needed since Morpheus had left her.
The boy had some nerve, talking to her in such a way as if Enyo was nothing but some commoner. She was a daughter of Zeus and Hera, no matter how little that meant now, and she was a warrior who saw no equal among women. She was not some pansy girl who would take his rudeness lightly. Enyo would neither apologize, nor weep for forgiveness that she had put Dysnomia in harms way. However unintentional that had been. Enyo did not have to answer to Morpheus.
No. There were only two people she would answer to. Dysnomia herself, who likely wouldn't say much of anything about it, having earned the honor to grace her aunt on the battlefield to begin with. Second, and more importantly, to the girl's mother. Eris was probably not going to take it lightly; though the sisters would not quarrel over it for long, if at all. After all, Enyo held her twin in the highest regard.
The highest.
( Sisters. )
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| Buds (Erebos) |
[11 May 2008|09:43pm] |
The temple of Night and Darkness was well-known to him. His own temple not far from here, not far at all, Hypnos had spent much of his time as a youth in this place. Passing through the door was like passing through the gateway of eternity and facing every single incarnation of yourself that had ever existed. Hypnos the proud, who had just defeated Thanatos and his mighty host in a match of stick-fencing that might or might not have actually occurred. Bad as he was with a sword, Thanatos had always been leagues better than his brother. Hypnos the dejected, returning from a fortnight spent outside the window of his dearest love only to have her call out that she would have no son of Darkness. Hypnos the coward, having fled the wrath of Zeus. Hypnos the unrepentant, he was. Hypnos the gleeful, after his darling Pasithea had given birth to a thousand sons. A thousand. If he'd been fit to burst, she actually had, and it was hard looking back to remember who had been more prideful. Even if she wasn't there, Hypnos let Pasithea win this argument of no consequence in his mind. He loved his sons.
( But peace at home was important. )
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| Melancholy (Idun) |
[11 May 2008|09:47pm] |
The sun-stroked bowl of Epidaurus' amphitheater was the perfect place for a night of relaxation and reflection. Since so many patients were being housed here Asklepios had started up something of a tradition. If you went to the amphitheater, something was always happening. Twenty-four hour entertainment, seven days a week. Right now, so close to dusk, the light was wretched for a dramatic performance of any kind. Instead the performers were playing music as though accompanying the descent of the sun and playing final tribute to it before the end. Asklepios didn't like their choice of song, even a little. They were playing as though they believed the sun wasn't going to come back - a position that he could not in good conscience accept. Nothing was ever joyous in his home these days, and the black mood of the place was starting to affect him in ways he could never have anticipated. Aphrodite's depression was the worst, but there was nothing that was good about this situation. Asklepios had seen it in the way he almost didn't rise from bed in the morning. The way he looked around in confusion at certain times throughout the day.
Almost as though he was searching for something that wasn't going to come.
( Absolution? )
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| The Only (Peitho) |
[11 May 2008|09:58pm] |
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he did was drag his hand - the real hand, his right hand - over stubble on his face. A sandpaper scratch answered his movement. Ignoring the hard growl of his face, Prometheus sat up slowly. He remembered sitting down at a table. Everything that happened afterward was a blur. At the very least he knew that he didn't have a problem with saying anything foolish, so he felt reassured in that regard. Philammon had been there. And a foreign goddess named Ninkasi. She had either created the most potent beer in the world or she'd slipped him a mickey. Eos had been there, too. Just thinking about her made him smile. And the smile grew when he saw a rose sitting on his leg. Fallen from his chest. Eos had dropped him off at home. Ha. Grizzled and bleary from drink, Prometheus laughed. Eos drank him under the table and left him a man rose. He might have asked her why she kept doing that, but mostly he didn't want to know. It would ruin the fun of it. Besides, Eos couldn't have been that much more sober than him, could she?
( He'd woken up outside, in the shoeing yard. )
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