mythopoeics

[It was everything she'd ever wanted, and it was nothing at all. Her mother, her father getting along just fine- Zeus didn't have his crazy harem of...whatever they were hanging around.

And yet.

It was all wrong. Even Jim (Heimdall, Heimdall, Heimdall) seemed a little too perfect, a little too wrong. He pushed (never too little, never too much) always just right (wrong). Sigyn was uncomfortable.

More than that, there was the shadow of a man who followed her every step, knowing her better than she knew herself. More importantly, he knew things about her that Sigyn didn't yet know. It was perfect and it was creeping her out.]

[It was all perfectly and comfortably black. Helios was the only light. She had been shocked that it was him, out of everyone who could've been there, it was him. She hated it.

Leukothoe felt disjointed. Even if he was here things could never go back.]

This wasn't cute at first. And it is not growing any more endearing as the days go on.

Seconding what Echo said -- this was nice until it got real weird. Having so many people around after a couple of days is kinda strange. They never leave, either.

[filter; galahad]
You're here, too.

[Pestilence's idea of a perfect world is not different from Famine's. In it he has two legs that work; his siblings are in harmony; Beast is not dying. But War and Death are not his only two siblings around. One of his half-sisters from Zurvan is a notable addition to the cramped one bedroom apartment. Sigyn spends most of her time draped across the couch in the living room, the scrawny feline named Gaunt all but glued to her lap. Or, at least that's what he sees when he returns home late at night and leaves early in the morning before Famine can question him about her presence.]


Is it over yet? These stupid tricks of theirs never last. Nothing ever does.

[Azazel's perfect world should have been a harem of men waiting at his every beck and call. But it wasn't. In his perfect world, he had a family who loved him unconditionally. His family included not only the mortal parents who had disowned him, but all the other Blackwells, and his two sisters from Zurvan. And he certainly didn't mind the presence of Samael's lovely little concubines. They weren't exactly the Brady Bunch but Azazel was having one hell of a good time. In the back of his mind he knew it wasn't real, that it couldn't possibly last forever, but why not enjoy it while it was?]

Bottomless supply of wine. Check.

Every season of Project Runway. Check.

I would invite some of you over to partake in this glorious fiesta, but my flat is literally filled up!

[There was a very good reason why she had been quiet until now. Perfect!Set had received her laptop to the skull for being so frighteningly good to her before she ran out of the apartment for work. When she had gotten home, the mess had been tidied up for her to deal with later.

It was only that afternoon she purchased another laptop and then hid in her closet from her flawless family to type up something for the community.]

I suddenly appreciate almost all of you for who you are.

[Having her sisters around, at first, seemed like a dream come true. However, as time went on and it became more apparent that they were just facsimiles and not really her fellow Mousai, Euterpe found herself attempting to avoid the house she and Calliope shared as much as possible. Thankfully, it was the time of year when finals were on the horizon, so she was able to sequester herself in the library and music rehearsal rooms of NYU for most of her waking hours.]

The concert on Friday evening was amazing. Jack White played a combination of new and old stuff, and proved he's a consummate showman. The thing that made the night that much better was the older man who went off on a rant about how music is a corrupt institution and boy bands were designed to sell sex to teenage girls. I think anyone who can listen to 90% of the current boy band pop songs and miss the sexual implications has to be ignoring the lyrics. The good thing is I'm totally going to use that argument for my symbolism paper.

Otherwise, I think everyone else has said anything I might've thought to say about this latest situation, so I'll keep my thoughts on it to myself.

Anybody want to come out drinking with me tonight?

Weeks like these make me glad I put a cot in the back of the pub.

[filter; private]
It was swell for the first few days but I can't fool myself into thinking any of that is real.

Oh. Hello world.

[ this wasn't the wife he remembered. That one he had taken in his king's name, given her choice and received a companion in return. That wife, he respected. This one was slowly but steadily keeping him away from home. He didn't want to pretend to be married, didn't want to play along with those people's illusions all over again. And more than anything, he wouldn't betray his present.

But he couldn't deny. To have his brothers nearby; younger, happier, carrying no hatred nor disgust, reminded him of happier times. Unlike his wife, he welcomed these illusions, spending time with both parents and siblings as if the world outside was Camelot.]

I feel tired.

When it comes to odd events, I prefer this one. Less violent.

I have never thought I would see my mortal father hanging around with my mother. My real mother. I think the image is now burnt on the back of my eyelids.

They gave me Apollo. They gave me this imitation of him and expect me to be happy? Screw you. I swear, if I ever get my place back, I'll give you this a thousand fold back.

[ it wasn't like she was complaining or anything. It was just. Fine, so maybe she was. But her father - the man who had pretty much ignored her all her life - was acting like she was suddenly her favorite child. And dear gods in the sky, if that wasn't freaking her out, then her siblings (mortal, mortal because her immortal were so much better) certainly did the trick.

Excuse her as she played pretend and avoided these.

The door to her room was closed and locked, keeping those illusions well away from her. But the part of her which was still Hemera, still day and ageless, hadn't been able to ignore the immortal part of her family. Lyssa sat by a corner, the Moirai to themselves as ever, Moros, Nemesis, it was a wonder how so many fit. Right behind her rested Aether, an arm carefully enfolding her shoulders as he spoke of whatever he had seen during the day.

It was also an illusion; all of them were. She soaked up every detail and word anyway ]

I remember now why I didn't live with my mothers.

I never realized how time-consuming taking care of two children can be.  I don't know if I feel guiltier for wishing this was over or apparently wishing for this in the first place. 

Though it is nice to pretend, even if that means having it all ripped away again.

[Filter: Egyptians]

It's been selfish of me to keep so distant, and I owe an apology for not trying harder to overcome my reservations. 

I need to get out for a bit, if anyone is interested in joining me for a picnic in the park.  Nothing too elaborate, I just miss the fresh air and wouldn't mind the company of somebody real.

[Thoth hadn’t been awful to deal with. No. He had been… perfect. Her perfect amazing husband. God knew everything in her wished she could fall back in the old routine, accept that that was really her husband. Ma’at knew better. She looked at him in all his perfection and saw the little flaws, remembered that when she closed her eyes to sleep, in the morning, she would wake to an empty bed. The heartache wasn’t worth it.

So the woman was fleeing. Brian tightly held in her arms, she spent as much time outside the house as the little boy would stand – hushing and consoling him when tiredness became too strong and he wanted nothing more than rest.

The worst was how Ma’at couldn’t decide whether she wanted her husband back, mortal and by her side, or protected where he was far more than a finite creature, subjected to sickness and ill fortune. In her old age, the woman was becoming quite selfish. Oh lovely. Another reason to avoid his ghost. Last thing she needed was to have a very personal conversation with herself about how human she was becoming.

“Mom? Can we…?”

“We’re going home right now, sugar.” Ma’at kissed the boy’s forehead and sighed. Time to face the music again.]

[Phonecall to Set]

[Never let it be said that Tezcatlipoca didn't know how to play his part well. Perfectly normal, mirroring amusement that he was incapable of feeling (or if felt, he didn't feel like it like others did- like one should). His iphone had the most ridiculous picture he'd manage to take of Set. Well. Why not.

He let it ring and waited patiently.]