The Half-Way Mark (Apate)
Dawn came and went very easily. When at last Prometheus woke up, there was nothing to mark her passage. Nothing at all save the rosy light in the courtyard. And a single rose on his chest. Probably another ode to his manliness. Prometheus smiled distantly, mind fogged with sleep. How long since he'd slept that well? Too long. And try as he might Prometheus couldn't think of any reason to delay what was coming. One at a time, and with as much discretion as he could. The urge might have been to break down Apate's door and cut her throat - but that was not his way, not anymore. Better if Apate learned through other means that trying to ruin Prometheus' life was not a sound plan of action. Only he didn't know what the hell he was supposed to say. His best attempt had been given some time ago, and there was nothing left. Apate didn't want to face the truth. It would hurt too much, shatter too many preconceived notions. No one really wanted to face the truth.
He just had to find a way to make her do it. By hook or by crook, he had to find the way. Otherwise it was going to come to blood, and no amount of lies would protect her from him then.
Washington, D.C.
If there was a haven of deceitful men and their lies, it was the capitol of the United States of America. Here anyone could be anything they wanted to be, including a fraud of a politician who was interested only in how much money he could make for himself on the side. Prometheus could see why it agreed with Apate. This little brownstone was just like a thousand other brownstones. There was nothing conspicuous about it at all. Maybe he was just indulging his ego to think that she'd chosen it for a reason. The same reason drug dealers in New York chose them. All he could think of now was Guns N' Roses. Not that he would ever actually admit to listening to Guns N' Roses. Or owning a single one of their albums. Prometheus didn't listen to music very often, but when he did... tch. Not at all the reason he was here. The reason he was here had more to do with Eos than it did anything else.
He had his plan.
Now all he needed to do was execute it.
Any faith he'd lost, any misgivings he'd had, Eos had put them right. In... what seemed a very short amount of time. If she was going to be... what he hoped, then... it was all for the good, wasn't it? Sounding like a twenty-something college student now. Someone who had no idea what a mature relationship entailed. Prometheus hated himself for leaving, instead of waiting for her to come back. There might have been something to the idea that he had his tasks while she had hers. And she'd laid out clothes for him. That was almost too much to believe. The typical suit jacket, and a t-shirt. He probably wouldn't have chosen it for himself, but that didn't stop him from wearing it. And getting a good laugh out of it.
It was time to stop reminiscing.
Prometheus' bronze hand fell heavy on the door. Once, twice, three times. Over his back was the bag he'd been given at Epidaurus - and inside the bag was more than one valuable piece of miscellanea. His sword. The jar. Bandages. More. One way or another he was going to settle this today. He had to. Vengeance... it wasn't what he had to believe in. Prometheus had tried to live on revenge, once, and found himself starving to death. For Eos. Because he wasn't going to see her face carry that expression again. Not while he had the power to stop it, and here he did. Apate was home - she had to be, didn't she? Not in the Underworld. That wasn't really her style. Not when she would barely admit to caring what happened to Dolos unless it was for the purposes of cursing you for stealing her brother. Prometheus knocked a second time. Standing on the streets of Washington, D.C. with a sword over your shoulder was a good way to get arrested.
Or shot.
"I know you're there," Prometheus finally said.
She must have been busy. Apate didn't seem the type to hesitate on the verge. No, he was going to get one of two welcomes, but a total lack of a welcome wasn't in the cards. Apate, not knowing why he'd come or what he was going to say, might have assumed that her fraud just wasn't noticed. Either that or Prometheus had thought all of it was Aphrodite's fault. One way or the other... was he really going to compel himself to do this? It seemed almost wrong somehow. in a way he couldn't quite define.