A Visit Home (Greek Pantheon)
After starting two schoolyard brawls last week, and a near-riot at a bar the week before, Deimos was feeling quite satisfied with himself. Sure, it was about time to start some new trouble, but he knew a surefire way of doing that.
Olympus was always quiet. Probably the size of the place, Deimos reflected, because despite the Big Twelve having the big-ass throne room and everybody else having a room or a suite in one of the trillion temples that littered the landscape, they were still inhabiting A WHOLE BLOODY MOUNTAIN.
But that satisfied Deimos; that just meant there were more temple halls he could skate up and down, more shouting and loud noise-making that he could do, and more trouble that he could sow. Plus, there was also the side bennie that he might run into his parents, or his grandmother, and he really hoped to not run into Granddaddy Z. Because really, Hera was his favorite grandparent, anyway.
After thoroughly searching the main temple and finding absolutely no one in residence, Deimos cheered himself up with the thought that he'd made enough of a mess training dirt and crap from the mortal world into the great hallowed halls, and headed right back outside.
Where to go, where to go. Too many choices, and he nearly rubbed his hands together with glee. Temples galore, with many, many residences inside them, and everything quiet.
The kind of quiet that needed to be broken up by a hand grenade.
Or a howitzer.
The only real sound of habitation came from off the side, the not-so-subtle fussing and rustling of bird feathers. He figured those had to be Hera's herd of peacocks, and while he was relatively certain that more than a few of the birds needed thinning out because they were annoying as anything, he really wasn't going to piss Hera off by upsetting her flock. After the incident with Argus... Deimos shuddered. Peacocks off-limits. Check.
Scuffing his feet in the bright, green, perfectly manicured lawn, Deimos made sure to trample as much grass as he could, dragging his feet through it and leaving behind deep muddy furrows and heavy boot treads. "Knock knock," Deimos called out, strolling casually across the mountain. Maybe he was out of place in jeans and a t-shirt, motorcycle boots and a leather jacket, but hey, it was a lot better than the toga and sandals crap that he'd rocked back in the day. "Anyone home?" He was delighting in the chaos left behind in his wake, and his one biggest regret is that his jacket wasn't doing any additional damage. Oh, well. At least he'd left dust trails on the white marble inside before heading back out. "Ma! Pops? Grandmother?" Yeah, he called her Grandmother. He wasn't about to have Hera up his ass about that. "Any one of my fifteen thousand eight hundred and seventy two half-or-more siblings, cousins, aunties or uncles?" And in some cases, the deities here qualified as more than one of the above.