mythopoeics

You fucks are so unoriginal.

I mean fuck, setting half the city on fire and poisoning the water supply? Fucking lame.

Apparently it is very difficult for most people to engage their brain. Not impressed. mildly amused.

Ho hum... I'm bored. Why does it seem like all the interesting things happen everywhere but here in Svarga?

( underneath a setting sun, something wicked your way comes )

[ ooc: attn Glastheins! part of your city near the palace is now on fire, and some of the water supply has been poisoned through the wells. you're welcome. ♥ ]

Svarga's always nice in the winter. But I think I'm done here now.

I'm definitely being overcharged by my blonde redheaded friend anyway. Gods know she's good but she'd not sparing me. Wants to take every coin I have and can get my hands on. It's sort of cute.

Should probably count what I have left in a moment.

[Filter: Pirithous]

I feel like Mictlan's calling to us, brother. I'm heading out tonight there from Svarga. Should be there in about a couple of days. What do you say?

[Famine was not a fan of cold. It got deep in his bones, and a limited body heat was hardly sufficient to last in the region that was Glastheim. He'd been particularly good at keeping his mouth shut, instead hating with his eyes. Not his companion, but simply the choice he'd made to be in a frozen wasteland. Or so he saw it.

But sometimes, keeping quiet wasn't an option.]

[filter; pestilence]
This is not a complaint. But why are we still fucking here?

I ruined my dictionary. I had it hiding under the chicken coop but a fox got to it. Can someone help me write a letter?

A man approaches you in the woods and attempts to steal your food from you after you haven't eaten in days. You're starving and exhausted. He's more worn out than you are, and you debate keeping the food for yourself, sharing it, or giving it away.

What do you do?

[ handwritting is slightly scratched and bumpy because this is being written against his horse's head. Yes. ]

Wait. No. This way to Mictlan. What way? How come you get a sign in the middle of nowhere to indicate the way and forget adding the indications?

Farm.

Horse.

Fence.

Bloody corpse.

Trees.

More trees.

Thief.
Again.


I'll never understand why people think I have money. It should be pretty obvious I don't.

A description of my day sounds awfully boring, doesn't it?

Shit.

RIGHT. Wedding over, everyone happy? Everyone should be fucking happy after that fucking epic.

I remember my wedding day damned well, you know. I've no fucking doubt that there are those men who would pay the world to swap with me and those who likely think I'm some whipped mutt who does his queen's command without question.

I do Helen's command. Of course I do. There's no fucking shame in being consort to a woman like her. I appreciate strong women. I never had a doubt about marrying her. I have an older sister who's one of the strongest women I know. It's no shame.

It's when people get ideas above their station that we have a problem. I know my fucking place. Do you?

Don't get me wrong. Weddings are great. They're lovely. I'm a romantic at heart, honestly, but... what else is happening in the world?

I feel like now would be a great time to share our tales of human endurance any maybe brave pets who pull their owners from flaming carriage wreckages and all of that. Something to remind us of the simple things in life.

So come on, folks. What has your dog done today?

(I don't have a dog, by the way. Had a parrot once. Little bastard bit me.)

A farmer's - or in this case the handsome, hardworking, son of a farmer - work is never done. At this rate I'll never catch a break.

[filter; hebe]
I found a book about stars, but I can't figure out all the words. Want to look at it with me?

[(is this thing on?) (flick to video feed) Zeus' expression is sombre and his tone is quiet and only those who know him can likely tell how angry he is, though the flickering of the video feed gives away a little of his state of mind]

This is not ideal, to say the least. I propose we gather together. Strength in numbers might not matter a damn but we all have our abilities, diluted and lessened though they are. I refuse to cower under a bed or hide at the end of a bottle. We're going to Dylan Thomas this bitch, you hear? Though the night may not be good, we'll not go gentle, either.

Blackwells. Maud and Milly. Dante. Reza. Gregory. My Katie. Olympians. Demi-gods. Heroes and beauties, children of mine. We'll not go gentle.

There are others here, I know. Different Pantheons. I do not see your kings here and perhaps therein lies your hope. Come now. Be strong. (Rage.)

To the lobby is the worst battle cry ever uttered but it's where I'll be.

Thanks and all, but I'll pass.

A year since I brought you all to me, a year. It is time we met face to face, Godlings. My name is Khaos and your lives will be ending shortly. And most assuredly painfully.

What did you think, that everything was just a coincidence? There are none. You're mine, all of you. Bending, breaking, twisting beneath my will and desires. You feed me and I keep you from becoming nothing.

Did you like my friends? Those who have been watching you alongside me? Your arrogance brought your downfall before little ones. It will soon end and you will be nothing- not gods, not mortals, no souls- nothing but forgotten stories the mortals tell poorly.

Good-bye.



[ooc: remember to direct any ooc questions & the like here]

( nothing is really what it seems )

[ ooc: backdated to early morning of the first day ]