Prometheus - Titan of Forethought and Knowledge (the_firebringer) wrote in deities_dot_com, @ 2013-03-28 22:21:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~prometheus, ~zeus |
A Humble Return (Tag: Zeus)
Prometheus had spent a month trying to sort out the return of his immortal grace. After he'd calmed down, he thought maybe it was a fluke. Perhaps Zeus had gotten distracted by something, or had undone some other proclamation and accidentally undid his banishment as well. Then he thought maybe he wasn't actually un-banished, and he'd always still had the ability to bring to life small things. Just... in two thousand some odd years he'd never accidentally used it? Yeah, that had made little sense to him. It wasn't likely that this was an ability he'd always had and could just now use. Then he spent a week or so thinking that perhaps it was just something small, it wasn't his full powers.
Then, one night, he'd drank a fifth of whiskey, sat with a pile of clay in his studio's work area, and created a full sized version of the dancing hippie statuette he'd made last month. He'd lost himself in working, and was surprised when he looked at the clock and saw only an hour and a half had gone past. Not quite what he used to be able to do, but certainly a massive improvement over the usual weeks he'd spend working a clay statue. He walked around the figure, occasionally reaching out to tweak a spot here, touch up a spot there. Once he was happy that it was perfect, he reached out and placed his hand on the top of the statues head. He took a deep breath and focused. The girl's body began to turn from clay to flesh, skin going from the bisque grey color of the mix Prometheus preferred to work with to a healthy olive glow, textured coils on her shoulders turning to braids. She blinked and looked up at him. Then she smiled. She was alive, real. And he'd made her. Prometheus was back in business.
He made a few calls, booked himself on a flight to Marakesh. It was the first place he'd told himself that he'd go if he ever was un-banished. He spent the land rover ride to Mount Tobukal in silence, and once he'd arrived, he made the hike down the mountain's side to a hidden cave entrance by himself. He could have simply willed himself here but... A part of him didn't want to presume his newly returned powers were up to full snuff quite yet, and another part of him didn't want to put his new powers on anyone's radar. But the realistic part of him knew that he was afraid of what he'd find in the mountain. Were he still mortal, he wouldn't be able to see the cave's mouth, but there it was. The pilars marking it's entrance had crumbled some over the years. As he passed through them, they were restored with a wave of his hand. He walked the path through the mountain, listening for any sign of his brother, Atlas, but he did not hear it. As he stepped into the cavernous center of the mountain, he called out. His voice cracked, "Atlas?" A pause, no answer, "Brother?" He didn't mean to sound so scared.
He raised up a hand to summon fire to light the cavern and it was then he saw his brother for the first time since they'd been separated after the Titan War. His face was stone, hair turned to limestone curtains, hands melded into the rock the held up so fully he could not tell where the mountain ended and Atlas began. "Oh, brother..." he walked up sadly and placed his hand on his brother's cheek. It was warm, almost like skin. The living heart of the mountain. Atlas was still alive, for what ever that meant. However, the look on his face was not anguished. It was, if anything, it was almost peaceful. Perhaps in his solitude, Atlas had found something to find comfort in. A cause. Atlas had always liked causes.
Prometheus spent a day in the cave, talking to his brother. He never heard Atlas speak, but just being there was what Prometheus needed. He could feel Atlas' presence, that was enough. He left the mountain, found his very bewildered guide, and headed back to Marakesh. By now, he had a plan of his next actions.
He booked a flight to Athens, then hired a car to take him to the base of Mount Olympus. It was still early for tourist season, but spring had already started to appear around the mountain's base. Some things never change he thought to himself as he dodged around the national park's ranger station and started the hike up the mountain's side. It was the path of the humble, to actually walk up Olympus before phasing through to the immortal plane. He hoped it would buy him some political currency.
Olympus smelled exactly as he remembered it. Two thousand years, and a world of change around it, but the gardens and hallways still smelled the same. He was about to open the doors to the throne room when a nymph stopped him. She looked a little like his hippie golum girl. "Can I help you?" She sounded sweet enough, but most nymphs did.
Prometheus straightened himself out some, "I need to speak with Zeus."
The nymph smiled, "He is in his office. I can take you there."
He nodded in thanks and followed silently. As they stopped outside the office door, he took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Remember. Keep calm. It's been thousands of years. Bury the fucking hatchet.