InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Jinkies!"

Much Millerson (muchofamuchness) wrote in nevermore_logs,
@ 2020-11-21 15:02:00

Entry tags:

athena, much the miller's son

WHO: Much and Athena
WHEN: Saturday night
WHERE: Diogenes Club
WHAT: Athena has connections all over the place...
WARNINGS: TBA

Movement kept catching his eye; Lars reached across the bar for a bottle of Cointreau, Asterion shifting position by the door, the door to the restrooms swinging open as a tall man with dark green hair stepped out, a strand of his own hair falling into his peripheral vision. Everything drew his attention, in case the movement turned out to be the Sheriff. Or Gisborne. Or Hermes.

Or Marian, walking back in with a sheepish look on her face, holding Rob’s hand We got carried away… But we’re fine!

The hope was thin, and felt like a lie. Will was right, Marian’s disappearance was down to the Sheriff, and now she was chained to his bed like Marcie had been. Leila’s observations were probably right as well; Gisborne had finally found Rob.

It seemed prudent to assume, as Stutely had suggested, that the Sheriff and Gisborne were working together again. Much was trying very hard for things like prudence, very hard to stay away from other thinks like panic and recklessness.

Enemies were closing in. He had to be smart and careful.

He had to stop thinking about Merlin’s words. You won’t find any of them. Because if Merlin’s prophecy had come true for Marian, then her instructions for Much to forget his prophecy, to ignore it, well… they were a big old bit of bullshit, weren’t they.

You won’t find any of them.

You can’t stop her from dying.

Still, Much knew himself. He knew he wasn’t going to stop trying till his very last breath.

He also knew this about himself: he was gonna function better, less anxiously, if he threw a couple of shots of vodka down the hatch. Just to give himself a boost. Just to shut up the little Merlin voices and the memory of Marcie in chains. Just to stop thinking about Marian’s fear. About the team of the Sheriff and Gisborne. Just -

Maybe three shots.

Maybe three shots and then he was going to gather up an armful of dishes and take them out back to be washed and give them all the scrub of their fucking lives.

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polymetis
2020-11-21 05:02 am UTC (link)

It had been the usual sort of week, which was to say that between teaching classes and grading papers, Athena had enjoyed a productive meeting with a former mentee freshly elected to the New York City Council, a less productive but nonetheless illuminating meeting with a counterpart from another pantheon (that both were Wisdom didn't mean they were both of one mind), quashed a blackmail attempt (too amateurish to even be interesting, alas), fielded several pressing demands from her father the king (who had seduced his personal lawyer's daughter, again, and presented her with the fallout... again) and talked her stepmother down from a laundry list of creative forms of retribution.

By this evening, she'd finally managed to tie a bow on her father's affairs (at least until the next time) and was looking forward to escaping into the smaller, more diverting intrigues of the Diogenes Club. But when she caught the eye of the bartender, Athena sensed something amiss.

It was Much, of the Merry Men. She didn't know him especially well, they'd only spoken in passing across the bar, but his jumpiness was hard to miss; his eyes seemed to dart at every stray movement.

They'd never gotten in contact, the Merry Men, after her chance encounter with Will Stutely a few weeks ago. Not that she'd been holding her breath. Neither Stutely nor Scarlet showed any particular inclination to trust an Olympian, and why would they? They were outlaws, and Olympus was, or had been, the ultimate manifestation of the privileged establishment.

But heroes had always held a soft place in Athena's heart. And she could never walk away from a riddle. How do you stop an immortal who isn't deterred by death? Much's anxious demeanour suggested they still hadn't found an answer to that one.

"I was going to order a drink," she said, a wryly sympathetic smile brushing her lips, "but you look like you need it more than I do."

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muchofamuchness
2020-11-21 05:53 am UTC (link)

Much's stomach leapt when he caught sight of Athena. Out of all the people he'd been keeping an eye out for tonight, her name was near the top. Under Rob and Marian's, sure, but still, significantly high on the list.

He'd been a little bitter toward Athena after she'd spoken to Stutely. A little jealous. A little worried that Stutely was so much more obvious of a hero than he was (especially if words like you can't stop her from dying were true).

But now? He was a little too desperate and worried and stressed to let any feelings of inferiority get in the way now. Maybe the vodka helped.

"Aah," said Much, wisely, as he slid an armful of clean martini glasses back on their rack above the bar. "The great thing about this world is that it's generous with the crap it doles out; we can both need a drink. At the same time and everything. What can I get you?" He gave her a wry smile in return, only his was a little wider, a little more self-depreciating than hers. Athena's face didn't look the type to carry any kind of self-depreciation, though the sympathy was evident.

Well good. Marian and Robin were missing and Much was ready to grab onto any potential ally, caution be - well, not damned, exactly.

Caution be regarded as unhelpful at this current juncture and set aside. As sayings went it wasn't snappy, but it was true enough. He was past worrying about any future consequences asking for an Olympians aid might bring. But then, worrying about future consequences had never really been Much's forte.