| No Satisfaction (Narrative) |
[02 Nov 2008|12:02am] |
Alfheim. Lush, green. Sunny, warm, inviting. Beautiful, dream like, picturesque, and peaceful. It was everything that mortals thought of, when they envisioned a fantasy world populated by Elven people, and so much more. The Elves were perfect, with physical features and a natural grace that no human could ever hope to emulate. There was no war here, no civil strife as there was in Midgard. No darkness, only light.
It was no wonder Freyr had a hard time staying in the realm any longer than he ever had to. He was their patron god and ruler, sure, but more often than not he found that his people were so 'pure and good' that it irritated him. Lately, he found that the only pleasure he derived at all from them, were in the nights he chose maidens to grace his bed with him, and he was even growing weary of that. No matter how many he took with him...
( There was just no satisfying him. )
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| History [Tag Perses] |
[02 Nov 2008|12:47am] |
The door of Zeus' temple never closed loudly unless it was the King of the Gods himself who closed it. That soft rasp-click of frame and door connecting was too gentle for her mood. Styx wanted to break things. She wanted the door to slam. She had to settle on the click-click of her stiletto boots on the marble, had to make do with the grinding crunch of gravel under her soles. It wasn't nearly satisfying as she would want.
When she was on the path leading away from Zeus' temple, she made herself stop and drew her corpus roughly into place. Until that moment, her skin was flexing between pale and watery-black; until that moment, the slink of her walk was more fluid than any being within flesh should be - even if that being was a goddess. Her fingernails curled into her palms and bit into solid skin and muscle. With a hiss, she let out breath, then glanced over her shoulder.
Kids.
Leave them on Olympus for a few millenia, and they forget just who they really were. Just where they had come from. And just who, exactly, their mother truly was. Since Pallas, she'd never been anything less than calculating, political, canny. No one had taken advantage of her - with the possible exception of Moros - and no one had pushed her into a place where she couldn't still maneuver. Why they thought for one moment that anything had changed, she couldn't fathom. But it infuriated her. They had just proven that she'd been right not to tell them about what she'd done with Akheron -- and why. For them, it must be so easy. Their loyalties were not with Hades, and not truly even with their family anymore. They didn't even acknowledge their family. No, their loyalties were with Zeus, and it seemed, Zeus alone, only excepting themselves. How then could she expect them to understand the position she had been in? How then could she explain to them that she could not have done anything other than what she'd done in the first place?
Why did she ever think that telling them even a little of the arrangement she'd had with Akheron was anything other than an exercise in futility?
And then Zelos had mentioned him. And what had happened between her and him. It was an unspoken rule that they never discussed Pallas, and never, ever discussed what Pallas had done to Styx. To have it used against her and Akheron - who had only ever been good to her, excepting the madness with Olympus - was all that much more galling. Pallas. The love had remained for longer than his life, and only through the work of more clever hands than hers had she been rid of that tie finally. Bless Hekate. But the anger still had not faded, even with the time between then and now. Pallas. Styx nearly turned around to find Athena and ask to see his skin on her shield. Nearly.
But as she decided against it, her eyes fell upon a figure across the courtyard. Familiar. More than familiar. Hot dread and fury and ... surprising longing... jerked up from her stomach and pushed her forward. No, it couldn't be him; Pallas was dead. Long dead. She had seen the last of his ruined temple destroyed in the Underworld. There was nothing now left of his body.
Unless....
Had Hekate found a way?
She slid quietly behind the Titan until she could reach for his shoulder. With trepidation, she finally did just that, tugging hard enough to make it known that she wanted him to turn around. But if she knew Pallas - and she did, through and through - he wouldn't turn unless he wanted to.
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