ΗΑΔΕΣ (underworldly) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-06-13 09:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, hades, megara |
Who: Megara & Hades (and also Pain & Panic, in bunny and chipmunk form)
What: Meg has started dreaming and has a few things to go over, including Hades' 'transition' into his dream self
When: Monday
Where: Hades' place in Laguna Beach
Rating/Warnings: Relatively low!
Status: Complete
How was it that both her lives - yes, both, because now she was victim of the hallucinogenic koolaid that allowed you some kind of metaphysical window to a former life - were distressfully defined by awful, wretched, terrible judgment in the face of men? Men in whom she allowed entrance to her vagina with their disco sticks in the spirit of some love or some crap. And while, sure, rotten decisions were made in regards her previous relationship, she could thank the mechanics of this world for making sure soul-selling was not an actual, legitimate thing. Except now. Really, she was going to take that entire expression of fucking gratitude back. Megara awoke with a feeling worse than hell and reality was currently a bit of a bitter pill to swallow. Hades was right (not something she’d like to admit often) about her dreaming about things soon - it was a world of gods and monsters, and the concept of heroism seemed hysterical. This woman she was once was so much more weary about everyone and everything, beyond jaded, and how could she not be? Have a whirlwind of romance with the Prince of Thrace, and to save his life, make a bargain with the Lord of the Underworld only to have her lover fuck off into a field of daisies with some Aphrodite-esque skank and leave her to rot. With Hades. She couldn’t shake him no matter what, could she? It was tempting to take a personal day and hide under her covers to avoid life for twenty-four hours. It really was. But she guessed the best course of action was to suck it up, dress up, apply a bronzer to make those fabulous cheeks stand out and make her look like a regular human being an exhausted pile of skin with breasts. Do the regular routine of leaving her home, starting the day by fetching the first two caffeinated beverages of the day (hers was cold, his was as hot as the blue hair she dreamt of him having), and off to his house. Today they were supposed to carpool for a clusterfuck of errands, and with the spare key she had for professional purposes, unlocked the front door. “You better be awake,” she called out into his home, loud but with a tone that hinted she’d rather be run over by a lawnmower than be a functioning adult. “We need to talk.” There really wasn’t anyone else Hades would trust with a key to his house, let it be known. But Meg was - well, she was Meg. He wasn’t comfortable around a lot of people in general, they tended to grate on his nerves like nails screeching over a chalkboard, but she was about as close to ‘comfortable’ as a constantly guarded person like him ever got - and really, it was twenty-four seven with Hades. Titanium reinforcements, moat with alligators swimming around, poisonous vines and barbed wire - probably why he sucked at being married. Memo to him: Never get married again. Anyway, he heard her bellowing and was alert. Mostly busy sprucing up for the day that lay ahead of them and, with a frustrated rumble, popped the pair of blue contacts in - meshing with the yellow shade to his eyes, they made the irises look green. He hadn’t quite bit the bullet (though it sure looked like he did, didn’t it?) for dentures yet, but baby steps. Maybe it’d happen - though if he was going to change all the way, he didn’t see the point. Sharp teeth that could cut through flesh like tissue paper was going to be the least of his concerns, with flames for hair and skin that was ashen. Ahead of him, a chipmunk raced down the banister - while making these chirpchirp, whistling, trilling sounds - and then a bunny, thumpthumpthump. Like he was living in a goddamn zoo which is what it felt like. “Pain! Panic!” He tried to reel them in; they’d stopped short of where Meg was in the foyer, looking up with those huge, watery, sweet eyes. “Get lost.” Hades hadn’t perfected the teleportation trick yet, so he had to use the stairs normally. Another chirpchirpchirp from the chipmunk, with the bunny thumping his furry paw again. “Carrots in the other room, go,” he shooed them. “Hey, sorry, yeah. Let’s talk.” Oh. My. Fucking. God. It was one thing to see the random forest critters (did Hades dreams take such a sudden twist he’d been turned into a singing Disney Princess?), though that in itself was the definition of bizarre - but what he called them was what made the look on her face contort into sheer horror. As if the rabbit and wanna-be squirrel were, in fact, roaches. “Um,” Meg so eloquently began, widened earthy eyes following them as they scampered off into the other room. Which had a stash of carrots, supposedly. “Did you - ? What did you - ? Is that them?” Please, for the love of the entire Roman and Greek pantheon, please let it not be them. But it was, she knew it in all the rubble that was her heart. It was the demonic versions of Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum wrapped in pelt, unless he felt so lonely that he adopted two very random animals to substitute those incompetent minions. With a very disdainful utterance of ugh, she thrusted the prepared coffee into his hands. “They were just here, not like I could do anything about it,” Hades rolled his fake green grass eyes to the ceiling. Who was he supposed to call upon for patience? Zeus, almighty king of the gods? No thanks, he’d rather become an atheist in some ironic and rebellious twist. “They also wouldn’t leave.” Like any evil minions would, they steadfastly stuck by their boss and, well, he didn’t have it in his own shriveled, lump of coal heart to light them on fire. Oh, good, coffee. Sweet delicious caffeinated morning fuel. Hades took the cup and sipped - on a hot summer day, he’d still prefer his cuppa joe boiling. Quirks - he had them. “What did you want to talk about?” he asked. “Should this happen in the car or did you want to come in and sit?” Really, didn’t matter to him. Their errands could wait an eon or two. After a long, gracious sip of iced coffee from the straw, Meg came up for air and wiggled her pink towards the direction of the demonic forest creatures. “I know a reaaaaaal good recipe for rabbit stew,” she mentioned ever so nonchalantly. “Chipmunk meat might be a good addition.” No, she wasn’t really a fan of those brainless demons, but at least they wouldn’t hop around her roughly saying heeey, sister! Maybe their silence could make them endearing after all. What a foreign concept. But she took a quick glimpse of her phone to gauge the time and right now, they were ahead of schedule - mostly because she’d woken up so early and couldn’t (and didn’t want to) go back to sleep. “I can come and sit, we’ve got time - and we can discuss what’s going to become of your hair once it bursts into flames. Or your soon-to-be grey skin condition. Which means, yes, I saw what you meant by my shit taste in men.” Also, whether or not becoming a man-hating lesbian was a cliche route. Could she stick her head between a woman’s thighs and go at it with her succulent oyster? Eh. Probably not. Hey, if Nutmeg ever did decide to indulge in the glory of the pink taco, maybe she’d let her employer watch - okay, nevermind, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Hades canted his head toward the living room - featuring some of the best panoramic ocean views, through those floor-to-ceiling windows. Lots of cream and grey, soothing neutral tones, a chandelier overhead - but as soon as they sat down, the sound of nails clicking on the hardwood floor could be heard. Cesare, the sleek Italian greyhound that belonged to Nico, trotting in to say hello. By jumping on Meg’s lap and lying there. Hello, human. Pet me. “Still trying to teach that dog to clean the toilets but it’s not working too well,” the Lord of the Dead grumble-growled. Okay, so more like they’d go for ‘roll over’ first, but you know. This damn house was turning into a zoo a little faster than he cared for - because what the fuck was he going to do with a rabbit and a chipmunk? “Alright, but anyway...” He sipped his coffee, like it was a lifeline. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t want to be in the Underworld any more than you do.” Who would want to be? It was a dreary, depressing place and basically the dumpster of their world - and Hades got stuck as the reigning King, because sure, toss him the scraps. Give Zeus the skies and Poseidon the oceans, that was cool. No one would mind, right? “And as for what to do about my skin and hair conditions, I’m kind of at a loss.” Fuck. Couldn’t fix Hazel’s problems, couldn’t fix his own - this was beginning to irritate him a little. Pinned by a dopey-looking dog. Faaaaaantastic. Meg sighed, succumbing to the fact only because there was a lint roller that’d come to the rescue in this house - somewhere. “Misery loves company,” she toasted with a raise of her plastic cup, lips widened into a brief and sarcastic smile. Not like Hades had come up and stolen her soul to keep her tethered to him; she was the one that gave it away, willingly, for someone who wasn’t worth even a two-second handjob on the back of a pickup truck. “You’re becoming a god. An actual deity. Can’t you change forms? Didn’t Zeus turn into a swan and sexually assault someone in the stories?” It was something like that, and she knew bringing his beloved brother’s name into the brew of the conversation was opening a can of worms - but he did get the shit end of the stick in all that, having dominion over the doom and gloom of death and the souls of the departed. If anything she could consult the cousin for some advice; Zatanna likely witnessed all kinds of things, maybe she knew something? “The magic I seem to have in the Underworld is pretty omnipotent, so changing forms - yeah, I’m sure I could do that. I can’t yet,” Or else he would have saved himself from the annoyance of potential dentures, “...but maybe the powers trickle in gradually. Hell if I know.” Because this was definitely a first for him - and if they were talking about the old stories of ancient gods, he was pretty sure that Hades didn’t have as much of an affinity for fire either. But his dream self? Completely different story. He was literally a hothead. A hothead who tried not to squirm too uncomfortably at the mention of The Brother Who Shall Not Be Named. Quickly, he changed the subject - otherwise things would just start snowballing. “Becoming an actual deity is - does that actually happen here? Like with the whole ‘hey, I’m immortal’ shit?” He didn’t want to be immortal. He didn’t think he wanted any of this - all the powers and responsibilities that came with being the Lord of the Dead? That was a laundry list. People’s souls would actually be in his hands - and the soul was the very essence of a person. No pressure or anything. Ughhh. Give her a second, she needed to wriggle away from the awkward-looking canine. “Off, boy,” she commanded with a snap of her fingers. “Anyway, I’ve heard of someone turning into a massive spider and crushing things, so - I mean, maybe?” Becoming a monstrous arachnid versus immortality were two different things, but the consensus was that change happened. Big change happened. Megara sighed, flipping back those silky tresses of mahogany hair - there was chestnut in it, a couple highlights streaks too. “I guess play it by ear? I don’t know, but with this whole mess…” Time to get sentimental here, and she braved through it with a reluctant roll of her eyes as she cupped her hand over his shoulder. “We’re in this one together. Like most things here. So whatever happens, I’ll...be here to help adjust.” Whether it was contacts or filing the paperwork for a dentures appointment, or rearranging his entire schedule while it all tossed a wrench in his plans. Most of the time she came off very guarded in a perpetual state of exasperation, but she wasn’t heartless. And she cared. Hades hired her off the bat with a minimal amount of experience, and thanks to him and this job he kept firing her from on a weekly basis, she was able to rebuild the hot mess that was her life post-bad relationship. If there was one guy she met (that wasn’t related to her) that came through, it was the pointy-teethed lord of the dead. In Greece? Well, she could at least be thankful he didn’t throw her into one his rivers to die. He kept her around, and it didn’t take a genius to realize that the Underworld was a lonely place to rule. It really fucking was lonely, was the thing. Hades would never say it out loud, but Nutmeg at least wasn’t asking him to. Could be that she already got it (and probably, she did - because she’d been there, she’d seen how the place was all despair, bones, and literal shades of grey). Which could be something to technically make such a closed-off person like him uncomfortable, but he found that he wasn’t. While stuck in the Underworld, all wanted was a chance to be someplace else, and to do something else besides cloak himself in death. Maybe find someone to rule beside him as a partner so it wasn’t like he was looking into the abyss, with nothing looking back? Eh. Dream big. Zeus was the one who had married Hera and was having all the offspring - bachelor Uncle Hades was there only slightly jealous, with skull pacifiers to offer as a gift. “I think that was your sweetest moment to date, and that’s saying a lot,” he chuckled. “Thanks...just promise you won’t decide to quit when my evil plan of destroying Mount Olympus comes to fruition.” And eventually failed, because come on, he could see where this was going. “But I guess you’re right, we’re in this together - so if you want me to do anything godly and terrible to someone you hate later on, I’m on it.” Plus, he’d listen if she wanted to talk or...whatever. He wasn’t too awful at it - more than decent, actually, for someone he cared about in turn. Megara gave a deep chuckle, the corner of her mouth quirked to what could almost be a smile; or more of a smirk, something subtle. “If you promise not to seriously fire me, I won’t. You pay me too well to quit just because your plan’s going to blow up in your own face,” she told him, giving him a playful punch to the sucker. No, she wouldn’t leave - there was also too much personal investment, probably because Hades was the closest thing she even had resembling the fabled icon of a ‘best friend’? Oh, barf. What was their lives. Honestly. “Anyway,” she went on, then gave his knee a particularly sharp slap. “Manhandle my soul, I’ll run you over. Think of it was multi-tasking - we test your immortality, and it’ll make me feel better.” Not that Hades had control over his actions in Ancient Greece, but she assumed nothing pleasant was written in the stars with what was going on. Her fate was sealed with that invisible, hellish contract she signed. Ow, geez, all these punches and slaps (at least it wasn’t to his nuts) - and it wasn’t as if Meg punched like an old lady. Cesare had indeed jumped off and was now lying nearby, wishing someone would give him a belly rub. Pain and Panic - who knew where they were, probably getting into something they shouldn’t. Hades would keep listening for bangs or crashes, his house being destroyed by two little imps in fuzzy animal form. And to keep Meg from clawing at him or something, he wrapped an arm around her that was potentially a hug - neither of them hugged (sometimes he made exceptions for his kids) but after telling him she’d run him over, such poetic promises deserved a reward. Ha. “I’m pretty sure I’m not going to manhandle your soul here, so...I’ll bet you’ll get a happy ending,” he tried not to scoff - not because he didn’t think she wasn’t deserving of one, but because he was going to go through all this and have nothing to show for it. “You also don’t need to sell your soul. Keep it...wherever it is.” Actually, he could sort of pick up on it, if he focused hard enough, extended those senses outward - that essence, the life force, something all biological organisms had. Some non-biological too, like the ocean, or rivers, mountains. It was obviously different for each person though. Oh, wow, a surprising fact to know that her skin wasn’t sizzling into boils and warts at some kind of quasi-affectionate reaction from the boss man - Meg gave that masculine, godly chest of his a pat-pat in return. “Happy endings are for fairytales and Disney movies, Hades,” she snorted, but the sentiment was nice, she guessed. “I’m your little partner in crime in your uprising plot. I could just tell you ‘no’ and snub you, but I don’t think that’d end too well for me.” And what the hell did she have to lose, exactly? Estranged from her family, abandoned by someone who’d claimed he loved her only to stab her in the heart - she had no one to fight for but herself and that’s exactly what she was doing. The bed was made, and she could either do the honorable thing and dig her sandals into the rocks of the Underworld with a stubborn no, or lie in bed with the ruler of the dead himself. Metaphorically. It was a figure of speech. Really. “And with the day starting out as normal as it could get…” A sigh as she straightened, finishing off her iced mocha. “I’m already in need of my second cup, and we should get going while your hair’s still looking normal.” Down the hatch, his own coffee went to - that delicious boiling hot nectar of the gods, a prime way to jumpstart Hades’ creative juices and ‘go getter’ attitude without resorting to cocaine. Man, it was going to be a long day, given how it had fucking started. “We can stop on the way, though I guess errands won’t run themselves.” Errands wouldn’t run themselves, there weren’t any clones to send to meetings - damn. Maybe eventually. “Let me just - “ He stood up, making a note to ensure sure the dog was fed, when all of a sudden.... BANG, CRASH Well, shit. “Pain! Panic,” he groaned, massaging his temples. Memo to him: Feed the dog, and boil the chipmunk, maybe skin the rabbit. Yep, definitely going to be a long day. Better get used to it, boss man, there was going to be a lot of that going around. Megara adjusted her purse’s strap, and then pushed him aside. “I’ve got the gremlins,” she snickered, mostly because she also knew where he kept the broom to give those furry fuckers a sufficient spanking. And to probably sweep up whatever they shattered. “Handle whatever else, and I’ll meet you outside. No rush.” They had time, and while it wasn’t in her job description (nor in her contract), making sure he didn’t lose his deathly marbles was a task she personally assigned herself. It was amazing how much of an efficient minion Meg could be when she didn’t detest his immortal guts. |