Amphitrite (ocean_swell) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-12-12 17:10:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | amphitrite |
Who: Amphitrite [Narrative]
Where: Poseidon's home in Hawaii
What: Receiving the note
When: Very early Saturday morning
Warning: Self-destructive reactions
The sky was painted red in early morning, an ancient harbinger of a storm, and Amphitrite had slipped out to walk along the shore and enjoy the familiar tug and pull of the atmosphere against her senses. When she returned home, there was a small parcel resting against her door.
She opened it carelessly, with light curiosity. Perhaps one of the nice boys who she'd been speaking with had left her a present. A folded note and a blood-stained gold band tumbled into her hand. The wedding band wasn't connected to her, but she recognized it anyway. Poseidon did have five wives, after all, he couldn't always be expected to remember to switch the bands between visits.
It took her a moment to understand what she was seeing before Amphitrite sunk to her knees. Trembling hands unfolded the note in small, jerky movements. The writing was in dirty, crusted brown. Blood. She threw it from her with a small cry.
He'd been taken. He was hurt! And whoever had taken him knew enough to send the information here, where she was staying, where her son and granddaughter were staying. She was trapped on an island, thousands of miles away, with her husband's most steadfast warrior trapped with her. She knew that Triton would feel an obligation, both to go and to stay.
Zeus' hospitality was apparently worth less than the paper her husband's blood had been written on - there was no protection, no security, and apparently no food or generosity left to his name. Why had Poseidon gone there in the first place?
The terrible power of the ocean needed little encouragement to show its strength. These waters were not her, but all water shared with each other, and all of the elements were already in place. This was not her time of power, but in her rage and grief, Amphitrite did not have to reach very hard to accelerate the process.
It was like reaching outside from the inside, tugging at the constant swell of the deep, moving what water molecules would respond to her in the right pattern for just the right effect. When she was finished, and the roar of the ocean could be heard even at this distance, and the sky was dark and threatening, Amphitrite was pale and trembling. One hand went out behind her to support her weight, but soon even that crumbled, and she fell backwards. Wasted with the effort of her fury and the exercise of the remnants of her power, Amphitrite passed out on her doorstep, the gold band and the note thrown carelessly to the side.
Far beyond the reach of her power, the ocean roared like a living thing, spending her rage and her fury in impartial waves and violent swells.