|Abel Parrish + Fenrir (devourer) wrote in paxletalelogs,|
@ 2017-08-21 10:43:00
|Entry tags:||fenrir, hades|
you know the sleeping feel no more pain
Who: Abel [Fenrir] & Obed [Hades].
What: One underworld god tries to convince another that his current path isn't going to help anyone.
Where: Some amalgamation of the Pax hallways.
When: Some place, some time.
Fenrir had no idea where he was; nothing about this place was at all like the caves he'd been bound up and thrown into without a second thought. Tile screeched beneath the claws of one paw, and his head brushed the ceiling of this strange, rectangular dwelling. Doors lined the hallways, flashing numbers that he did not care to remember. All he knew, in that moment was that he was free.
Gleipnir was nowhere to be found, not on his person or elsewhere. He knew he should care how this came to be, but for the moment, he was content to stretch (insomuch as he could, inside this strange place). Then he set about sniffing, his great nose brushing the doorways, marking them with a slick remembrance of his passage as he subtly recalled different persons behind each.
Some were tied to those he knew in the past -- in his former life, the one he was bound to relive over and over and over again until the end of time. That had come, hadn't it? At least, for his people, it had, but it hadn't turned out quite the way they'd hoped. And now, he was here, and he was free, and what more did he care beyond that?
He stopped by a door marked 105, and began to paw at it, curious about the innards of these peculiar little entrances. Perhaps they were elf hills, doorways to the fae. There was only one way to find out.
Behind him a presence grew, darkness coalescing into tangible form. It was a silhouette at first, the mere suggestion of a man. Then limbs stretched out from within that inky void, and thin, pale fingers spread from beneath a night-black cloak.
"Leave it," Hades said, with a voice that neither brooked disobedience nor offered explanations. Blue eyes pierced the wolf sharper than any blade. He studied the beast before him, and something like recognition lingered in his gaze. "What brings you here, Lýkos?"
Fenrir snarled, his giant head moving away from the door he'd been attempting to breach.
"If you're seeking answers, the proper tone and courtesy would be appropriate. Honey is sweeter than vinegar, or did no one ever teach you that?" A lesson from his own father, learned through the trials and tribulations of a young mind aged much too quickly.
"What brings you here, to hover over all with your darkness and gloom? I'm merely attempting to...satisfy a curiosity." He reached out, large claws raking over the doorway with the bright, brassy numbers displayed front and center. His claws dented the wood, carving huge chunks of it away and to the floor; one of the numbers was torn off completely. Hades watched it clatter to the ground; his stony expression did not waver.
"What lies behind that door is mine," Hades said, already certain his words would go unheeded. "And you would do well to let your curiosity lead you elsewhere." Cold blue eyes narrowed to slits. In silence he studied this other god, the line of his jaw growing ever tighter as he did. "I know your kind," he said. "I have kin like you. Greedy and hasty, always rushing headlong into whatever strikes your fancy at the time. Do you lack all sense of self preservation? Do you not know a wrong path when you see it?"
His great paw met the ground, sliding back from the door as he turned to look at this interrupter anew. If it were possible for wolves to frown, it was obvious that Fenrir would be doing so now, his dissatisfaction with his fun being interrupted written all over his expression.
"Did my father send you? Or someone else, another of the Aesir, come to chide me again for things I'm accused of but have yet to even come to pass?" His great form shifted itself, coming about to face this strange man with fresh eyes. There was nothing... Ah, well, there was something familiar about him. Fenrir knew him, or at least a version of him. Much like the meat suit that he walked about in during the day, this one lingered in his periphery. He wasn't as interesting as some, but still...
"I know you. Not you you, necessarily, but... you're quite familiar."
"As are you." Hades was still for a moment, unblinking, as the two gods took one another's measure. The living shadows that surrounded him continued to move, their greedy tongues lapping at the air and earth around them, stretching out toward the great wolf's paws. Then he gave a small shake of his head. "I am no Aesir, nor do I perform anyone's bidding save that of my queen. I am Hades, God of the Underworld. And you, wolf? Are you Aesir?"
Fenrir laughed, a stark, cold sound that reverberated up and down the hallway.
"No, nor would I want to be," he replied. Not any longer, he added in his mind, the honesty shaming him a little. "I have been turned away by my own kind, left to rot in a stone cage wrapped with ribbon. But now I am free, and I have no inclination to return to my bondage." One great, yellow eye turned in Hades' direction, the better to study him with. He moved forward, his huge form filling his passage, forcing him to almost crawl awkwardly.
"Why, then, are you here? Why are you come to tell me that what I do is wrong? Who are you to tell me I am wrong, god of the dead?"
"Is that not answer enough?" Hades smirked. "I am God of the Dead. I know their deeds, and I see the winding roads that take them to their final judgment. I have seen enough to know to know foolishness when I see it. And trust me, nameless wolf, foolishness is wrapped around you more tightly than whatever ribbon you loosed." He gestured, as though such bonds were plain to see.
"Your path, Lýkos, this one you've set yourself upon… where do you suppose it ends?"
"The end," Fenrir replied, a far-too-sharp grin following his words. His huge tail swished, pleased by the change in topic, crashing into each wall on either side of the hallway with barely half a movement. "That is what I've been accused of, Hades. But I suppose someone stuck down in the underworld wouldn't be as keen to the current goingson up above, hm? My sister would have much to say on that topic, I think, but I'm not sure she's around to ask.
"My name is Fenrir, and I am the bringer of the end of days. So, from your words, it sounds as though I'm on exactly the right path. If I'm to be blamed for death, I might as well create some, shouldn't I?" He moved closer to the other god, sniffing gently at the edges of the shadow tendrils that writhed about him. "So far, there's only been mortal death. Perhaps I should aim higher up the food chain."
"If you think you can," Hades answered. "My brother would have more to say on that score."
He watched, impassive, as the great wolf's curiosity turned to his own person. Shadows licked like flame at the other god's muzzle; they did not injure, only caress, one thing of darkness recognizing another. Something in that touch, to Hades, seemed almost sad.
"I care very little for the end of days, or for the death you may cause. Such endings only increase my kingdom." His dark head tipped toward Fenrir, blue eyes shining like cold fire. "I speak of your ending, Fenrir. There is bitterness in you, and anger, and they are a flame that will consume you from within. There is much to be said for self-control, even for deathbringers like us."
The great wolf snorted, withdrawing a little from his examination. He rolled his shoulders, settling back onto his hindquarters.
"One might think you'd welcome expanding your kingdom. And this is my destiny, according to all those who know me. I'm not allowed any other course. How does one bend fate, Hades of the underworld?"
Hades smirked. "It is no easy thing," he said, "but it has been done more than once. Mere humans have succeeded, and many more have at least tried. Do you think yourself weaker than they?"
Fenrir snarled, lips pulling back to show overly large, dagger-like teeth. Saliva fell from his mouth to the floor, where his nails were curling into the hardwood, leaving large, curved indentations that would surely leave anyone who found them wondering as to their origin.
"Watch your words, Hades, lest you become that which you rule over," he chided, trying to keep his temper in check. "Besides, what's the worst that might happen? That this sorry world might come to an end? There's nothing wrong with that. Everything has a time and a place. Perhaps this one's is over."
Hades arched a pale brow. "One would almost think 'destiny' is no more than a convenient excuse for you to do as you please." He shrugged. "There's nothing inherently wrong with that, of course. But it seems rather cowardly to hide behind the concept of 'destiny' rather than simply being honest." He moved closer, his head canting as he regarded the great beast. Shadows coiled like smoke around their feet. "Make your choice and stand by it, Fenrir. But when you reap what you've sown, know there's no-one to blame but yourself."
If the dark god's words were meant to insult, they landed true. Fenrir pulled himself up completely, his hackles on end as his snark wound anew in the air between them.
"I am," he returned. "I made the choice foisted upon me long ago, by churlish and selfish people who did not know better, or did not care. And now, I think, I'll start with you." The conversation was at an end, as Fenrir's great claws dug into the floor once more, hurling him forward toward and into Hades; his great jaws focused on the god's head, with which he would have more than ample room to snap it clean from his shoulders.
Hades scarcely seemed to move. He watched the wolf's progress as though he were merely a disinterested observer. He felt hot breath on his throat, saw the gleaming bone-white of sharp teeth. His shadows gathered him up and pulled him aside. Not quickly enough. A line of flesh unzipped at the hard edge of his jaw. Blood welled in the cut, deep red dripping to the floor beneath. Still his face was impassive, his posture relaxed, as though the idea of death even at the hands of an unfamiliar god did not particularly concern him.
"We might have been friends, once," Hades said, with a shake of his head. "I suppose we might still be, for whatever time you have left. Find me again when you manage to calm down."
Fenrir's great tongue licked blood from his teeth, his jaws pulled apart to show those teeth clearly. More saliva dripped to the ground, tinged slightly red.
"And where do you think you're going?" He kept moving forward, filling the space Hades had placed between them for his own safety. Claws ground into the wood floor, carving large marks as he walked. "Are you going to run away from a challenge? Is this how the god of death greets his own end?"
Hades smiled. "This is neither a challenge nor my end. This is the path I choose: one that diverges from yours. But don't worry, Fenrir. If it is as you say, you have no shortage of prey already given to you by fate. I'm sure you can make do without me."
The teasing, amused reply did little to soothe Fenrir's wrath; he lunged forward again, seeking to rend the dark god into several pieces, a thought that seemed more like a memory from recent times. The thought pleased him, and for a moment he thought it might be enough to sate the growing, black hole inside his gut, the one that whispered such dark thoughts through his ears, the thing that he blamed for each and every action that he took. Claws whipped forward, pushing Hades back, teeth snapping in the air not unlike a buzz saw directed toward the huge wolf's prey.
Sharp claws dug into Hades' chest, but the god of death was not so easily caught. A door opened behind him, a yawning chasm that led only into blackness. He did not turn his back to the great wolf. He sank back into the void, his face a cold and stoic mask. The door closed behind him, a soft snap to mark their separation.
Anger settled over the giant wolf like a thick, red cloth; frenzy took him when he could not take his prey. The obstacle that kept him from the god of death felt his fury a thousandfold as his claws attempted to rend the door into a million pieces.
It did him little good, for once he was left panting and spent a few moments later, the thing still stood as a sign of his opponents' escape.