mythopoeics

[Having had time to accept what was happening, it seemed that now was an ideal time to reach out to all those of her pantheon. To see if any among them could offer up ideas. Plans. Anything to help them get out of this or manage it.

She was never going to get a quiet existence. Ever.]

[Filter: Egyptians]

This is not my thing. Someone take this from me. Fast. I pray someone has some idea of what we should do. Can we really carry on as if this is normal? Because I think not. But we haven't a way out, at least not one that I know of heard of. Once more, we are at the mercy of those we know next to nothing about.

I also hope that we are all here. That we are not badly scattered or even divided by worlds.

Of all things which could have happened, of all the actions and events, this never touched my mind.

I have a son who once hated me, my child is lost to me, my sister knows me not, my husband, heavens. And him.

I need to return home. Right.

Home?

I will make my way to Svarga once I am no longer needed.

I don't know, I think I'm more amused than anything. I can't be the only person who's sitting back and laughing. Maybe I should make a list of places to pillage before anything else happens? What to do, what to do...

P.S.: Lamb is delicious. I still regret handing over the leftovers.

Academic and political circles debate what poverty truly is; many perceive poverty through different perspectives, depending on the wheeling and dealing that must be endured by our dearest politicians. While they sit in their armchairs before the fire, people of our common places struggle to survive in the barest ways. Almost like animals.

But really, the question I ask. What is poverty? I feel that once the question is answered then surely the culprit may be accountable. Is it a social concern? An ethnographic problem, or a theoretical concept with no true bearings? Perhaps it's merely politics.. or even just the luck of your hand by being a locational concern. Whatever the case, who do we hold responsible?

If it's social, then might we all be responsible for the poor? Might we all feel guilt for not helping our brothers and sisters in their less than necessary and entirely non-noble struggle? If it's ethnographic, then might the academy be held accountable? They examine, write and exoticize our under represented masses. Or no, perhaps it's theoretical and all wise men are to blame. But politics. Politics seems most likely, and I don't say this blindly. Our politicians, our monarchy even, has its way with the world as the cost of those that serve them.

For them, poverty and indebtedness--slavery if you will--is a God riven right to their comforts and luxuries. The monarchy stands upon its high grounds and looks down upon the fragile world, watching it breathe and weep for its misery and feeling no remorse. No indeed, why should they? All their comforts are provided. Poverty then, for these moral-less rulers, is a product of social inequality. It is a direct result of the struggle between the political and the Divine Right of Kings.

The amoral guardians of our dearest Ilium practice a thing called oppression. I use oppression here not to signify cruelty, but more of an unjust treatment of our fellows. An unjust and absolute control where our brothers and sisters have no power over themselves, the products of their labor or even of their fates. Our brothers and sisters have been reduced to animals, stripped of their freedoms and their rights, stripped of their humanity to serve like baseless dogs the Kingdom upon which our monarchy stands! And it's wrong, I argue, because the monarchy of Ilium should defend its people and seek to raise them up high, not drive them to the ground.

But, no! No indeed, for the people over which they rule are no better than the dogs that feed from the scraps at their feet. That's what they've been reduced to. Animalistic barbarism where survival alone is the only key. The only aspiration, no matter the means to their end.

It is an inherently unfair system. A system that was deliberately created by our industrious monarchy of Ilium. A consequence, perhaps, a punishment to show just who has the power; putting people in their rightful place.

And so I call, now at the last upon the springs of revolution, for a transformation of society. For a rebirth. Transformation is necessary, from industrial dogs to egalitarian freedom! To equality. Equality to achieve autonomy.

Saw some red-footed falcons today.  They usually stop by Ilium during the spring, when they journey north.

Guess it's coming early this year.  Time to change the crops. Anyone like lettuce?

[Filter: Dad]

Fucked of me to filter to you now that you're gone, I know.  But I'm doing my damnedest by you.  You weren't the king of Glastheim or some shit like that, but you were are my father.

Hope the spring's coming there, too.  Wherever you are.

I'd like to know: what or who gives you inspiration? Who gives you the strength to carry on or the inspiration to do something new, or perhaps something familiar?

It feels a little stupid to have to say this, but apparently people: 1. Aren't using their brains. 2. Aren't in possession of a brain. or 3. Don't know the point of a graveyard.

Playing hide and seek and using the graves I'm digging as a hiding place isn't smart or polite. The next person to do so might find out what it's like to get buried alive.

Just stay the fuck out of my graveyard.

I believe that if we all embraced our histories we would come to realize that all of us are, in fact, criminals. There is a large history of crime through mass executions, power changes and genocides that can't be denied. And yet it's odd that when one claims one's identity it is never in an open acknowledgement of such historical events.

So what then does it mean to be Ilian, Svargan or Mitclain? What does anyone really take on when they lay claim to those titles? Do you deny your historical connections? At what cost?

Such events are not privileged narratives, but rather a fundamental truth to the human and Divine nature. And yet it speaks most heavily of nationalism. And what is nationalism but an excuse for prejudice and genocide.

"You aren't one of us."

What a series of awful words. Doesn't it just ring in your ears? Give you a chill. Especially if it were coming from the mouth of a bigot.. of a racist. Imagine, for a moment, if such men and women waged a war of supremacy. Chaos reigns supreme.

Sometimes she missed being in a marriage. What she had now was not a marriage even if she was, under the law's eyes, married. She knew her husband was keeping his own company and made all the effort to not care. It hadn't worked, it had become something bitter.

It wasn't worth holding on to but, unlike a common man or woman, divorce would leave her ruined. If she was going to work for her region, she didn't need to be ruined. She didn't need to hear about her husband's playmates from other people either but Nephthys supposed that was asking for too much apparently. Nobles were cruel in their own way. Petty and sharp, unable to help themselves because perhaps launching their barbs at the lower classes was getting to be laughably expected.

Even Nephthys wasn't so pure and saintly, oh no. She saw the distinctions between herself and others, knew it existed for a reason. There had to be one. This was the way the world was and why attempt to change it? She did not fling tart comments around but she wasn't going to ever support a merge of classes. Those thoughts moved to one side, her mind back on her husband. He had no issue playing with women of any class. She supposed he thought himself allowed to do that.

Maybe she ought to visit Isis one day or another just to get her husband a 'gift'. Something to say she still thought of him and something that would make sense once he was bent over and howling in pain.

In hindsight, I too easily allow myself to get talked into things that perhaps aren't as good of ideas as they sound read seem.
Not that I don't still expect those apples.

Anybody in/around/nearby Svarga know what to do with a broken leg?  (A lamb's, not mine.)  I do not have a lot to pay, but I am good for favors if necessary.

Dear lungs,

I am extremely pleased with the work you have performed since my birth, truly. But lately I've been denoting the propensity for you to attempt to leave my chest via coughing and I'm really not happy about it. Kindly understand your job is for life.

Love,

Hemera

Being sick? Never gets old.

[ a long long list of ingredients features here, amounts and scribbled notes on how to prepare several mixtures. While most are impossible to read due to a chicken scrawl any modern doctor would be proud of, some ingredients can be discerned. Feel free to guess what they are.

But spiders, venoms and long forgotten plants do feature. And things with more teeth than it should be healthy. Enjoy. ]



This is not my notebook.

[Comforting the living relations of the deceased, the underworld, decay - she was once responsible for such things and more. If death had been coming for her under normal circumstances, perhaps she would have accepted that, would have said her good-byes and let it happen.

This was normal or right. This was some goddess - some Greek goddess - on a power trip apparently. Something had to be done and someone had to at least get the ball rolling.]

[Filter: All except Khaos & her helpers]

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I am not a leader. I dislike it and I find I don't do well in such a position. However, I do wish to stress that that announcement cannot be tolerated.

Does anyone have any ideas? Any at all?

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]