mythopoeics

My brother and I have managed ourselves a flat. Not the biggest thing on the market, but with the two of us, we don't need much space. The view is fantastic. That's about the only good best thing about it.

[filtered to pasithea, minos, helen, menelaus, zeus, syrinx, and mordred]
[address]

Buzz number is 1506.

There are a lot of you I need to see, because I have a lot of things to say, and I don't know where to start. Words have never been my thing.

[filter; galahad]
Galahad?

[filter; echo]
Tell me you're alright.

[Ashes tip over into his lap, scattering across a thigh. Brushing them away would have to mean giving a shit, and Agravaine has no solitary fucks to give.

He hates being 'that brother', the one who gets emotional over another brother's death, but after Gawain's untimely one months ago, he isn't sure he wants to witness another one. Mordred was the last straw. Mordred, the one brother he cherished above all, dead. And then alive again. How much longer were they going to be played? Why were all the brothers he wanted alive dying, and the only one he wanted dead probably alive somewhere?

If it was really death. Agravaine doesn't believe in ressurrecting the dead, but then again, he didn't believe that a shitload of things could happen until they happened.

Top it all off with getting laid off from work, and he just really wants to fucking punch someone, so he smashes his last bottle of vodka into the kitchen wall and watches it explode into pieces.]

[filtered away from family (morgause & co, and pheme)]
I need a fucking drink. I just ran out.

[Some part of his brain is telling him that whatever happened in Zurvan was real and not a passing dream. It was most emphatically not a hallucination induced by Mordred slipping something into his drink at a bar. It would've perhaps been more acceptable to be drugged than the knowledge that they're playthings of a God. That whole thing sounds like fuckery. And Galahad?

(You can't even make him accept that this whole thing is actually the way it is- you really can't). He might not stab you in the eye with a hot french fry, but that does not mean the urge is lacking. Somewhere among the depth of his so-pure knightly instincts is the urge to put an end to the whole thing.

Galahad does not support this fuckery. Really, he doesn't. At all. (Most importantly) You can't make him.]

[It had taken Hermione some days to come to the point where she even wanted to think about her parents. Menelaus, the man she'd met in the streets. Helen, the queen of Ilium. But no, they were themselves now. Now she couldn't help but wonder what sort of lives they led, what their names were, if they had pets.

All the most useless questions began bombarding her -- do they have accents? where are they from? -- from all sides until she'd had enough.]

[filter; menelaus]
Can you see this?

I'm ready to talk, but not face to face. Maybe.

[Filter: Zurvan family]

Please tell me if you're well. I'd like to know.

I'm ... doing as well as can be expected. Nothing missing or that can't be handled. I pray.

[Filter: Iseult]

I know you were Mordred's bride. I'm just now catching up on all that happened after the revolt. Even what happened during.

Are you well?