mythopoeics

[Teaching Gwynevere how to ride a motorcycle -- or, at least, attempting to -- had put Mordred in a far better mood than he assumed it would. After a few hours in her company he was starting to get an inkling as to why his father would consider throwing aside the ideals of the kingdom for the woman, though he could say with a certainty he held no attraction to his former stepmother himself. She was lovely, of course, but not his type.

Feeling a vaguely renewed sense of purpose, he decided to start putting forth some efforts towards seeing what -- if anything -- he had worth living for. His time in Zurvan had convinced him that all it might take for him to feel more fulfilled in his shallow life was to go about the motions of finding a wife and making a family, but the reality of the situation was that nobody out there would ever want to marry someone like him, nor bear his children. This realization upset him, but it didn't deter him. There was always vengeance, the purpose that fueled him since his earliest days, and with Merlin around that was seeming more and more the easiest route to take.]

[filter; family (excluding Arthur)]
If any of you are stuck on a potential birthday present for me, might I suggest getting Merlin stranded on a boat out at sea headed towards some rocks?

Denizens is such a good word~

KNOCK KNOCK

WHO'S THERE?

[filtered AWAY from family (not including horus)]
I was wonderingggg. How does one go about an engagement party? Those things happen before weddings, right? I'M NEW TO THIS.

[filter; cu sith]
YOU + ME.

( tiny narrative. )

Oh... Oh my. Just - just brill.

[A peal of soft laughter.] That is the last time I'm burning my chicken. I shall enroll myself in a basic cooking course as soon as possible. [A humming sound, as if she's mulling it over briefly. Then a sigh.]

This probably will not end well.

[Filter: Heimdall]
[Filter: Mordred]

Thank you again for Saturday. The pancakes were as good as you said. And the ride was thrilling.

Do you think I could please [pause] give it another go?

[Ever since getting her piano keys fixed (as wafers were rather difficult to play on), Calliope had been at her piano nonstop, testing out the new keys. Her piano always brought her peace, and so upon signing into the community, she decides to record the following.

At the end of the recording, there's a sound of someone (something) pawing at a key repeatedly, and there's laughter from Calliope as she allows her fluffy companion to paw at one more key before the recording cuts out.]

[Night had always been the time of day in which Hypnos was most active. He wasn't running around or doing aerobics, mind -- he was simply more alert. It gave him time to contemplate the things and the people in his life, those well and those unwell. His father, who had fallen ill again, had been occupying his mind for some time. But unwilling to share that information just yet, Hypnos instead turns to a comfort of his: his native tongue.

His voice comes in in soft Danish, lightly accented by his acquired American one. He speaks about his father, how the man had undergone surgery months ago, and how suddenly he was ill all over again. He mentions having Zeus as a father, but doesn't mention the man by name, simply referring to him as 'the man who was my father'. Finally, he reverts back to English, all of that off his chest.]

I wonder, sometimes, if Zurvan was just a dream or if it was real. It felt very real. But I've also had dreams that felt very real... and I've always woken up from them feeling strange.

[Guilt was not a familiar sensation to Famine, but over the last couple of months, it was all he could breathe. It was all he could feel upon laying eyes on Pestilence, who had once been a source of amusement for him. Instead of living with his brother, he felt as if he was living with a beacon for all of the guilt that had been festering inside. And he hated it.

Vodka and cigarettes were what he could turn to for immediate relief, but even three screwdrivers couldn't assuage those feelings. If anything, it made him feel worse. It was against his policy to get smashed, but he was well on his way there (a lightweight, this one) when he flipped open his laptop to consult everyone else. Someone had to have an answer.]

If you had the ability to erase all capacity for feeling, would you do it? Not in death, but in life.