Antigone Grace Winchester - Princess of Troy (antigone_grace) wrote in utr_logs, @ 2008-07-30 00:40:00 |
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Current mood: | determined |
WHO: Antigone Grace & The Fates
WHAT: A formal invocation
WHERE: Elsewhere, clearly
WHY: No more pain for the Winchesters
STATUS: Finished [Narrative/Closed]
The formality of what she was preparing to do was not lost on Antigone. She knew, without being told, that asking a favor from Fate was just as crazy as a mortal asking a favor of their God. The possibility for mercy was there, but there were rituals to be followed, tradition.
Part of propriety was dress, and the Princess had merely changed her clothing with a thought, the traditional chiton draping from her body as if it were meant for her. In reality, it was. Her tiara sat on her head, the dark hair curled and braided around it. Another thought had her on a dark plain, waiting. It was time.
Raising her arms, she invoked the Sisters of Fate. It was an ancient language; a ritual that went far past the conventions of mortality and godhood.
"Daughter of Hermes. Invocation of Moirae?" Atropos stepped from the shadows, her hands hidden by her cloak. Formality for formality.
Antigone's deep curtsy was met with a responding dip of the head. Once she'd risen, she spoke. Her voice deep, husky and very, very respectful. "There have been things done that-" Not 'should not have been done', she cautioned herself. "-that I would ask be undone." A pause, her own cloak swishing as she stepped forward. "A friend, dear friend, was ambushed-"
"Do you think we don't know?" Atropos' smirk was incredibly clear, even in her voice. Antigone ducked her head. Of course they'd known. Atropos had cut the thread herself.
"To have him back, for his sons, of course, would be an amazing gift." She wasn't looking at the Eldest Sister as she spoke.
Atropos stepped closer. "Your interest is not purely selfless."
"No. His son Sam-" Antigone stopped. Of course they knew.
Atropos pondered the younger Goddess for a long moment. "A sacrifice for this gift. Godhood."
Antigone took a deep breath, closing her eyes. Of course there would be a cost. Of course it would be hers to give. And of course she would give it. "Done."
"Done." The Eldest's voice snapped. Somewhere, John Winchester was alive. And Antigone Grace, Princess of Troy, was mortal.