Only the dead have seen the end of war. -- Plato Who: Cronus (usurped_usurper) and Poseidon (wheresmytrident) [Narrative] What: The kind of events that once took place will by reason of human nature take place again. -- Thucydides Where: Zeus' penthouse When: Saturday afternoon. Warnings: None.
Nothing was out of place; no broken glass, no sheets askew, nothing knocked over, nothing where it shouldn't have been - not even a single photo on the wall was tilted. Everything looked right and everything looked the way it should.
Except, something had to account for what happened a few hours earlier. It wasn't just another ordinary afternoon in Zeus' expansive penthouse in Manhattan. Even if there were neighbours, they wouldn't have heard the tense conversation going on behind closed doors.
Poseidon didn't say anything wrong. He was merely trying to be the voice of reason with someone who didn't have the same view of 'reason' as what might be considered the 'general', 'normal' population.
Cronus thought it was cute. And equally, a shame. It seemed almost unfair to be doing this to the only one who would call him 'dad' and wanted no trouble - to the point of being self-sacrificial. He never took his second son for a pacifist - and certainly history had proven on numerous occasions that Poseidon was anything but pacifistic - but it seemed that with the decline of their powers came a re-evaluation of their priorities.
Or at least, that was the case with Poseidon, anyway. He couldn't say the same for the other two belligerent boys.
The penthouse fell quiet after a brief struggle and a muffled protest. The two of them were gone. There was a streak of blood splattered over a small area of the sheet of glass covering the floor aquarium, the fish swimming beneath seen only through a red tint.
And then there was nothing.
The laptop on Poseidon's bed in the room Zeus was putting him up in was still running. Only the notepad application was open; only three words followed by a flashing cursor line.