mythopoeics

[It was getting increasingly more difficult to stay happy as a housewife when one was not happy as a housewife. Agrat felt herself falling into a mood which only soured when her husband came home. The conversation the followed didn't help any more. She'd left the house after a shouting match, making sure to throw the dinner she'd been making in the trashcan. That would teach him. Stupid husband. Even if she probably had overreacted, she didn't care. If anyone would be making apologies, it would be him, not her.]

Is there a husband donation clinic? I have one I'd like to donate. No. Really. Someone else can have him. I'd give him up for Lent, but then I'd have to want him in the first place. sdkjfalnsdjkasdnds I wish you could donate humans to good will or something.

[Filter: Asmodeus]
I may be insane for writing this, but are you here? You might know me as "mother"...I suppose.

Also, is it just me or am I surrounded by a lot of Greeks?

[Ever since getting home, she'd been having strange dreams. She always woke up feeling like she'd missed something. None of it made sense. Parts of the dreams she could remember. She remembered running. She was looking for something...maybe someone. She wasn't sure. She just knew she was searching for something that was lost. After she woke up, she'd hug her pillow and try to quiet her thoughts. It was confusing. She couldn't be sure if she was remembering things like Aidan said she would or just having dreams brought on by something she'd eaten or seen during the day.

Whatever it was, it was unsettling. More unsettling than the frog sitting in her greenhouse. Part of her wanted to ask Aidan what he thought, but she decided against it. Maybe when she had more to give him than "searching," she'd say something. Maybe. Maybe it was just a bad dream and it wouldn't even matter. Instead of over thinking it, she decided to turn over and close her eyes. Hopefully she could get a few more hours of sleep before work.]

Talk about desperate and needy. Today at work, it was like a gathering of who could have stood to have worshipped me harder. Or could have stood to have had more self-respect. No one's going to give you a role again if you start flirting with the married director. Especially not after I took a photo and plan on sending it to the wife, you ho. How dare you go for my part? As if you could pull off alluring without looking like so bargain bin. Well, trash is trash!

But during it all, there was this super adorable little girl who plays my little sister and she would clutch at my hand whenever we talked. And I just felt giddy that she was so fond of me. I may have put make-up on her.

And then, after work, my ex picked me up because I really needed a ride and I convinced him I deserved to be treated out after such an exhausting day. I'm so cute in pink, so course he agreed. But it didn't even get that far because my shoe's heel broke and I nearly fell. So I had to be taken home and had to settled for take-out in the end, boo. I'm still kind of hungry.

Oh. I guess you can call me Luna. ♥ I don't really want to out myself yet! Hello! Glad to meet you all!

He wakes to be told that he has been in the hospital for several days. That only the smallest handful of people know where he is due to the investigation and issues surrounding the shooting. The details around that aren't coming to him but he only nods and offers the fewest of words to show understanding.

When he has finally been left alone, Troilus then lets his eyes close in disinterest to everything around him. His mind is flooded with memories of a wife, an unborn child and siblings that should not have been his. A place where he had been happy - that didn't exist, did it? But, as expected, he had died in war. The constant that would not leave him.

He doesn't know what he will do when he gets out but space is needed. Would be gotten and kept for as long as he wished it.


[ ooc: he will update over the weekend to let some people know where he is. for now, only uriel and aeneas would be now told of troilus' whereabouts and to keep it quiet for now. ]

[Filter: Private]

Thank God for twins who make themselves available instantly. My daughter. I have a daughter and yet I don't and I am very firmly going to avoid alcohol. It won't help. At all.

[Filter: Public]

I don't care if I'm saying this wrong, I feel like Leonardo DiCaprio Inception-ed me AKA sometimes I think even this world can't be real. A Greek goddess stomping about, dictating things to us. I'm a fucking Vanir, who is this brunette bitch to me? Hell, the Greeks wish they could be like me and my kind.

People say we are myths. People say we cannot exist and, yet, here we are. And then there is Zurvan, a place we say that cannot exist and is false. But what if those people we have left behind are real? They do exist?

What a tiring thing living as a mortal has become. And I don't even think I've gone on long enough as one.

[Filter: Private]

And I think I need to consider moving on.

I'm going to be perfectly frank here, and feel free to not stop me as I go on, but when women complain about men hitting on them while they're wearing short items of clothing, they really are just asking for it. What, exactly, is the point of wearing short dresses or skirts if you don't want men to strike up a conversation with you or call you gorgeous? The logic eludes me. Men don't complain like women do.

What a world it would be if women didn't bitch all the time.