It's Brittany, Bitch | Ερις (eristic) wrote in paxletalelogs, @ 2017-02-12 19:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | ares, eris |
I go about things the wrong way, baby
Who: Daniel [Ares] & BB [Eris]
What: Dreaming gods wander where they shouldn't.
Where: Storage room, Pax Lobby (behind concierge desk).
When: 3:15 a.m.
Ares awoke again in an unfamiliar place. Compared with the limpid pool and tall grasses he had found in his prior outing, this place was sparse, unnatural, and cold. No sunlight glinted overhead; no breeze cooled sweat and blood from his skin. Instead only a pale and sickly light shone above. Beneath his sandaled feet, cold, smooth, grey stone. Even the air smelled stale: neither warm nor cold, and with all the stillness of a room shut up for far too long. He paused a moment, collecting himself, getting his bearings in this strange place.
Beside him, long racks awaited, their contents unevenly distributed, all of them covered in a fine layer of dust. He reached out and trailed his hand down one shelf as he passed. Some items looked like weapons, others like toys, or books, or simple statuary. Bits and baubles taken from myriad owners, put away here where none might enjoy them save the one who had the key. It was a common trick of conquerors, one Ares recognized. He had often stolen what others loved, if only for the sheer pleasure of possessing those things for but a moment. He had learned this from his father, from his siblings, from his lovers. This room felt like one of those conquests, but he had not conquered it alone. Someone else was with him now; someone whose bloodsoaked scent he recognized.
He turned on his heel, his fists ready at his sides. He did not call her name, but it was on his lips and in his mind, so prominent and forceful she might have heard it anyway.
Eris felt like she was floating, though her feet were firmly on the tiled floor beneath her. Everything had a slightly warped look; that is, until she adjusted her eyesight and the shelves found a level to fix themselves, running straight once more. She moved forward -- or was it backward? It was hard to remember, sometimes -- nearly running into a shelf that held an item that looked oh-so familiar. It was a little necklace, gold in color, with an apple on the end. A single greek letter that looked like an English K was carved into it; she reached forward with an arm that was more tentacle than appendage and plucked it up.
"Oh, brother, don't be shy," she said, her voice at once both loud and deathly soft, the twinness reverberating in the air before her. She switched to something that seemed akin to water dribbling on stone. "It's been some time since we've seen one another." The gold chain folded over her skin, into it. She dropped it down, displeased that the apple was not the one she sought.
"Too long," he agreed. He watched the chain as it fell, black eyes alighting on the apple, at once familiar and not, for only a moment. He moved closer to her, his fists still clenched, his body still ready for a fight if she chose one. But there was an earnest smile on his face all the same, an obvious joy in his posture and mien.
"What is this place?" he asked. "Was it you who called me here?"
Her head shook in various directions, implying a negative response to his question. Her voice changed again, this time a burning, crackling flame eating away at wood. "Does this look like the sort of place I'd call you to, brother?" A clawed hand, extending from her right while the left remained in its tentacle form, reached for one stack of shelving and gave it a careful push. It wobbled in place, but held fast.
"I don't even know why I'm here," she continued, giving it another, harder shove. This time, it fell away from her touch, crashing into the next one over but not with enough force to knock it down. Items pelted to the ground -- boxing gloves, a gaming console, a handheld mic. Dust flew up into the air, swirling down around the two deities. "I thought we'd left this place after the last time."
"We did," he said. "And something brought us back. That is enough for me."
He walked through the debris she had stirred. Something crunched beneath his heel. He looked down to see a small glass ball, shattered into razor-sharp, curving shards. He ground his heel with his next step away, and the glass was crushed to dust. "It feels different now," he said. He touched another shelf. A music box sprang open, its soft song tinkling through the still air. "Something has changed."
Eris' head swiveled toward her brother, though her eyes pointed to the ceiling. They fell down, down, down landing on her brother at last.
"I feel it too," she agreed. "Not a thing, but a one. A... person." She moved away from Ares, through the other racks, glancing at the slightly ajar doorway that had allowed them entrance into this room. She faintly wondered why no one had come running at the sound, the destruction caused, but that was a thought easily dismissed.
She returned to her brother, two caterpillar brows arching. "Do you plan to do something about it?"
"Plan? No." He laughed, low and loud, a rumble that echoed through the room. "I am too glad to be back. Shouldn't we see what entertainment can be had first? And then…" He looked up, where her gaze had fallen before. He could sense the presence far above, though he could not determine its nature. Not yet. "Then we will do what must be done."
"Oooh, yes," she gurgled in reply, her strange hands meeting in front of her in mimicry of a clap. "A whole new box of toys, a whole new game." Eris glanced away from Ares again, her attention drawn by a dog collar. A silver tag with the name Jack etched into it dangled from the red band. Eris lifted the collar, twirling it around one finger. Parts of the red were darker than others, as though stained.
"And maybe we will remember more?" She turned to Ares, tossing the collar at him, uncaring if he caught it or not, because her attention was already turned away.
"I suspect we will." He caught the collar; he passed the pad of his thumb over its cloth, and felt the stirring of memory somewhere deep within him. "I would like to," he said. "I hate things being kept from me." He dropped the collar and walked in his sister's wake, crushing to shrapnel and dust what she had already cast aside.
"I feel others here," he said. "Some I remember. Others I do not. Should we take them a gift from these treasures?" He leaned down and retrieved an item from a low shelf. It was a small mirror, its surface reflecting nothing back when he gazed upon it. Instead he saw an island, a rotting corpse resting on its shore. He tossed it back down to the shelf, and walked away. "Something to welcome them back from wherever they have been."
"Oh, yes!" She repeated, though this time her voice sounded like a gunshot. She clapped her hands again, spinning, making her form blur. "Wake up all our friends, have all the fun! Oh, which should we send first?" She turned back to the shelves, her fingers wiggling with excitement in the air.
"I have some ideas," Ares said. He stepped neatly around her, well accustomed to working around her strange ways. A golden net had captured his attention; it was far smaller than the one that had once trapped him with his lover and left them for the voyeurism and mockery of their siblings, but it was enough to jar her memory, enough to perhaps return her to him, if only for a moment. He smiled, and it was sharp and bloodstained.
WIth renewed purpose they busied themselves going through shelves and cabinets and boxes, cataloguing those things of particular interest, casting aside those that were not, readying themselves for the mischief to come.