ΗΑΔΕΣ (underworldly) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2017-04-04 11:57:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, hades, megara |
Who: Hades & Megara (with Cerberus the hellhound)
What: Teaching Meg the art of potioncrafting (making an immortality potion!), talking about hairy family situations, and a casual proposal
When: Tuesday night
Where: Hades' Lair
Rating/Warnings: Mostly low, save for sass and some innuendo
Status: Complete
Frazzled nerves, all of them jumping together in different directions. And Hades didn’t usually get this way. Every muscle felt tight, ready to spring into action - even his face felt all clenched up, like he’d never remember how to smile casually again. Was this what Botox addicts experienced? Frozen everything, wrought with tension? It didn’t help that his mind was replaying epic crashes over and over on a loop - oh, this could go wrong. And so could that, plus so could everything else. Not only was Meg going to eventually drink an immortality potion - one meant to be modified by him - but he only recently found out that his son sent for a mail-in DNA test (what the fuck, those things actually existed?) to compare samples with some random kid who was now claiming a blood relation. Could be possible that Percy was another Zeus spawn the Senator refused to acknowledge, like Thalia, but Hades doubted it - seemed appropriately dramatic that he’d have a half-brother he never knew about. He, Zeus, and Poseidon divided up all of creation in most mythological tales, he should have known that the missing part of that trio would pop up somehow. But, well. If he was going to talk to Zeus for the first time in twenty (had it been that long?) years, may as well go into it with some sort of ally. And if Megara wanted to do ‘eternity’ with him, this was the kind of shit she’d be walking into. “Figured we could also do some potion lessons, since you were talking about learning,” he said, cracking open the book he’d need. The paper of the pages was soft, oniony, and very thin - and the tome itself smelled warm and dusty, the interior of an attic. “If you still want to, that is.” They were in his detached guest house, overlooking the Pacific ocean, part of the sprawling Laguna Beach mansion - the same guest house Hades had turned into his own magical ‘lair,’ for all intents and purposes. It looked something like an apothecary, with shelves lined with bottles and books, straight from the Underworld, and all sorts of other trinkets he’d received from the dreamworlds too. Not just books, but a bow and a set of soul-ripping arrows, his robes hanging on hooks, even a crystal ball right in the center. Nice touch of decor. Meg liked the space. It felt like a little slice of the Underworld had surfaced from down below - whether she openly admitted it or not, that place back in ancient Greece, with its moaning rivers and draft air, was home. Above all it was a peaceful refuge away from the insanity his actual house could be, which, well, it really seemed like he needed it with the way she’d notice his jaw was ticking. All the signs of duress were present. “That I do, Flaming Hades,” came her answer from her cozy, cozy spot on the chaise lounge chair she’d claimed for herself - she was in an ivory sundress somewhat grecian styled, bracelets dangling from her ankles, thick hair down from its usual ponytail. Her eyes watched him, the specks of green in them bright today. “You’re good with now? I know your head’s a little scrambled from everything. No one knows family drama like the gods do.” Seriously. At least there was less incest, rape, and full-grown goddesses born from someone’s head during a splitting (hah, literally) headache. “I’m fine,” he promised, and maybe he wasn’t but he was trying to compartmentalize - put ‘Meg, immortality’ in one corner and ‘I have a missing brother’ in another. It was working. Kind of. “Are you good with now?” Cerberus lifted his head(s) from where he was lying near Hades’ feet, ever the dutiful companion. The ripple of a growl that came from him sounded layered, like haunting music. Giving in, Hades bestowed a few chin scratches on him, and his eerie red eyes glowed with pleasure. But he didn’t want the gigantic hellhound in the way, so he shooed him off and Cerberus relocated to a cushion on the other side of the room. “Here, let’s try a forgetting potion since we have water from the river Lethe here already,” he went on, shaking the clear glass bottle of yellow-colored liquid. It had been one of his dream ‘presents,’ and he had water from the River Styx too. In case he needed to really ruin someone’s day. “I’ve got the correct page - “ Now he did, anyway; one book fell closed, an exhausted sound because these treasures were old, Just meant another opened. “It’s your job to tell me what you think we do first.” The correct answer was select the proper potion base, but he’d see how Meg did. Aw, poor babies. Her fingers brushed through the darkness of the hound’s fur in passing - she loved Cerberus best, the hellish beast (who was a real baby sometimes). Now was good, though. He needed the distraction. “Hmmm, sacrifice a few newborns, throw in a frog’s eyeball, stir, season to taste?” Kidding. Megara rose from the chair, arms crossed right below that bosom, and the sauntered over close with bare feet. Really, she watched him go mad god scientist around here as it was anyway - she always seemed disinterested while she filed her nails or flipped through a trashy tabloid, but she was actually very attentive. Acting like she was ignoring him when she was in all actuality observing him was how she survived being employed by him, after all. “You need a liquid base,” was her final answer, rummaging through his knick knacks like the nosy assistant she was. Don’t worry, she wasn’t going to break anything and blow this place up, but she did select a bottle. “I’ve seen you use this one before.” Hades fully expected Meg to select a bottle, and he nodded when she made her choice. “It’s wormwood,” he winked. “Want a taste?” In fact, it probably wasn’t very good by itself (bitter and minty, but mostly just bitter) but it made for a decent potion base - alcohol was generally the best bet. Now, time for a lesson. “The quality of your base depends on how many ingredients you can add,” he explained. “Before something goes wrong, I mean, but it’s something to keep in mind. So you always want to select a high quality base like this one. We can add up to five ingredients. These here - “ He pointed, a sweeping gesture, “You’ve got your spirits and your pure distillates - they’ll only let you add up to three or four ingredients though, before shit starts backfiring.” Or literally catching fire - always the fun part. He got out the cauldron and heat source, along with the cutting board for preparing ingredients, and lastly with the mortar and pestle - an important contraption any potions master must have. “We need to grind some herbs and make powder, to add after we begin building from the base up. Give it a try on the rice first, make me some white powder, and try not to slip.” How well would she do this? Oooh, aaah, don’t worry - he had plenty of herbs for the purpose, in case this batch got all cocked up. But that’s why you practiced with the rice initially. Some couples cooked together, and then some did this - which was a lot like some culinary task anyway with all the edibles around, the tools used. “Thanks, but, uh, nooo thanks on the wormwood front,” she answered, making a face. Wasn’t that the kind of stuff they put into that hallucinogenic licorice booze anyway? Could she not be tripping balls while handling potentially volatile items, please. Megara followed his instructions ever so dutifully, however, sprinkling rice into the mortar to cover the bottom. Pestle grabbed, she went onto the twisting and pulverizing - some grain scattered around at first but she remedied the technique. “You could always put a picture of Zeus’ face in here, you know. It’ll make you grind things up with extra efficiency, don’t you think?” Wiggle wiggle went those eyebrows as she poked him with her elbow. “You’ll need to expel some aggression before you see him in person. Or take a xanax.” “I don’t want to look at his face,” Hades grumbled - that may be because he was reminded of how much they resembled each other, though Zeus, wielder of thunder and lightning, had those electric blue eyes he’d unknowingly passed on to his daughter (unknowingly because he refused to even talk to the poor kid). Hades’ own eyes were hazel, with flecks of green and gold depending on his mood - when he let his guard down though, they were bright yellow suns. He didn’t usually walk around with skin the shade of ashes and fiery hair to boot, however. If he could change his appearance, you can bet that was going to happen. But right now, in his own lair, it was a rare space where he didn’t have to. So no, he didn’t want to look at Zeus’ face - nor did he wish to visit his brother. Couldn’t this be done through a phone call? “I can’t believe Nico just took a DNA test and then waited a couple months to mention something - who does that?” Poof there went his hair, a spark and a flame before he tamed the potential wildfire. “Doubtful Zeus even knows anything. If he does, he wouldn’t tell me. I might have to twist his nuts. Here, grind these herbs next - “ He just kept talking, continuing the lesson, opening the boxes they’d need. “Then once you have the powder, add the base first go in order, turning up the heat as you do and remembering to use the stirring stick so it doesn’t clump. The water from Lethe is last - the instructions for the potion are in Latin though so how’s your knowledge of dead languages?” Oh, geez. Meg should have figured he’d have gone ‘flame on’ mode when mentioning the delicate subject of Zeus, the the legend himself. Please keep the incineration to a minimum, hon. Funny. In her dreams he was a moronic meathead with pectorals so massive they’d fit into a bra cup (much like his son). Pretentious, but not intentionally malicious. And it wasn’t surprising in the slightest that he had scattered unclaimed children out there, either, probably enough for an army. At least Hades stepped up to the responsibility to care for his own offspring. “Nico’s an adult, and prone to make mistakes out of your control,” Meg reminded, eyes flickering to him briefly before she continued on with his instructions - she was a quick learner and the saving grace is that she’d also watched him work through several concoctions already. Mimicking his practices should come seamlessly. “And your family’s the definition of complicated at every angle that he probably didn’t know how to break the news to you - but he’ll just have to learn from making his own crap decisions.” And that they did effect other people. What a concept, huh? Standing on bare toes she reached to kiss his ashen cheek. “And my knowledge of that one in particular is nilch, so do you want to be my deathly attractive babble translator?” Well, alright, he wouldn’t make his naughty student (did he get to fuck her on a table at some point?) bust out with the Latin dictionary and translate each word. Many of Hades’ spellbooks were in dead languages - Latin, ancient Greek, even probably Elvish or Draconian? These days you could just google shit to figure out what the hell you were doing. “Base first,” he reminded, measuring the wormwood to put into the cauldron - it was alcohol, so it burned, and now they were cooking with gas - or a flammable substance, which meant lean too close and your eyebrows would get singed off. “Now let that bubble for about thirty seconds, and add the powder you grinded up. This symbol here means simmer - or the Latin bullire.” He still had trouble thinking of Nico as an adult - the kid was barely nineteen, but shit, sometimes his dad just wondered what the fuck was going on in that head of his. Therapy seemed to be working though, Nico hadn’t asked to stop going - so Hades would take that as a positive. And making crap decisions was just part of the experience. “I’m not sure how many more random nieces and nephews I can handle,” he said, another grumble. “The first one hates me because of the version that sent hellhounds after her or something.” Which he had never done personally, thanks very much. “Besides, you like the paps best don’t you, Cerberus?” Oh, yes. The three-headed baby wanted only the tastiest in human sacrifices. Ancient Greek, she could do - obviously, considering the era of their dreams - but the rest? Nahhh. One day, though. It’s not like either of them were going to be strapped for time. “These things never smell good when you’re cooking it up,” she gagged and reeled her head back from the fumes (her eyebrows were nice, she’d ideally like to keep them). “Anyway -” The powder was set aside and ready while they awaited in their half-hour limbo. “Who knows how far Zeus has spread his seed, and Poseidon’s probably a manwhore too. Must run in the family?” Megara was teasing, alright - it was no secret that her deadly god had some indiscretions in the past all before her, and it was her job to consistently give him shit throughout this relationship. All in joking humor. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him down for kisses to help ease him, grinning against his mouth. “How sure are you about your own possible random set of illegitimate children out there, by the way?” “Pretty sure. I don’t have any more, promise,” though he supposed it was a ‘never say never’ sort of thing. In terms of mythology, he was always depicted as the loner of the bunch - less of a manwhore than his brothers, usually stewing in his own doom and gloom. But here? He would be the first to admit that he hadn’t been great at the whole husband thing. However, he was proof that someone could change - if they wanted to. It had taken an actual godly transition, Meg’s death, his coma, and learning that eternity lay before him to realize that he wanted and needed an actual partner for all that. One that he could trust. He chuckled deeply and gave her all the kisses she wanted, and then some - complete with a flash of those demonic teeth. “Only a few seconds, Nutmeg,” he said about the bubbling potion. “Add the Lethe water now and stir, and it’ll be complete. Next you can make the immortality potion on your own - the first one your own. No need to actually drink it now, but,” he sighed. “You’ll have it for when the time is right.” Most of it was done already - it had arrived in the form of a potion meant to take away immortality. Specifically, for Hercules. But in order to reverse the effects, it required a few other things - Hades’ blood, for one. And mushroom powder - more practice with the spice grinder. “Promises, promises,” she teased, a little brush of her nose to his godly one - though in all seriousness, let him not have another spawn show up on his doorstep. Family complications existed enough here with all those unknown relatives, from nephews and nieces to brothers. It’d all make an interesting reality television show, all ‘Real World: Greeks’ style. Meg gave his ass a supportive pat before selecting the vial of water, uncorking it, and adding it to the mix - blublubblublub with a little bit of smoky poof happened. “We’ll make something special about it,” she said, referencing the whole immortal cocktail they’d be mixing up. “It’s practically liked getting married, isn’t it? But without the legal paperwork or tax breaks, though if we’re taking the stretch beyond that - maybe we should. Do the legal paperwork. And benefit from the tax breaks.” So casual, the way she practically proposed to him - she was even humming as she stirred the potion in the works despite being well aware of her implications. Wait. What? A few seconds of silence passed before Hades could remember to even blink again. Because his eyes were wide as dinner plates and his jaw had fallen open, about to completely fall off the hinges, in fact. “Um.” That wasn’t a response, was it? Maybe, technically, it could be - but it wasn’t even a word. It was more like a grunt. Come on though, he had to think about this. Up and down, he swore that he’d never get married again. That it was one ritual that really wasn’t for him - and yet, he had known deep in his fire and brimstone heart that if Meg wanted to, Hades would do it. If it was important to her. And sure, he guessed it made sense - since they were going for eternity together, why not just get married? “That’s...what you want? You’re sure?” he asked, hand raising to smooth over his hair that had just burst into flame again, because of nerves. And really, a whole bunch of different emotions, all churning at once in a washer load about to explode. Ah, did she hit a nerve? The corner of her mouth pulled into a half-smile, half-smirk. “Don’t piss yourself, Hades,” she chuckled in that rich, dark tone - naturally husky, and at times seductive. Megara oozed sexuality but she wasn’t one to give it up easily at all, having always erring on the side of caution. But she trusted Hades with everything, even the rest of her life. He’d given hers back at the time of death after all, didn’t he? “I think my spending forever with you speaks more volumes than a notarized document proving our union.” That spoon was pulled from the cauldron and she wiped it on the edge so the residue could fall into the pot, and then she used it to give him a loving whack on his ass with it. “I might as well get the benefits - you have killer healthcare, for one, and imagine the tax break.” There wasn’t a ‘dream wedding’ she had fantasized about in her youth despite her quasi-romantic tendencies but she loved the cheeky bastard, she did. Taking the immortal trek with him was more romantic than anything ceremony she could come up with. What the fuck did he care about tax breaks? He made an insane amount of money, enough to be in the rich portion of the country that threw off the curve for everyone else. But alright, healthcare for an immortal - why the hell not. “You’re so romantic and convincing,” he snickered, hands smoothing down Meg’s oh-so-dainty waist. He anchored himself in closer, to feel the softness of sensual curves pressed against him like honey. They could get back to their lessons and practice in a moment. “So, hey, I say yes to your proposal,” he grinned, showing off teeth that could be mistaken for razors. “And...we’ll get married. Make it official. Have a honeymoon with us and this potion.” If she wanted to make it special, drinking literal eternity, then he would do that too. He summoned the glass vial they would need, uncorked it (the topper looked like a snake-eyed angry face, how appropriate to represent his hatred for his dumb blonde nephew) and held out his hand, giving her the pads of his fingers - for the pin prick, to get his blood. Honeymoon and an immortality potion. Sounded kinky. Sex rituals ahoy, just to give it a little kick - Megara would do some google-fu on that. “You do know a visit to the courthouse would suffice for me,” she told him, reaching for something sharp among the plethora of arcane stuff he had on the shelves. Looked like a big sewing needle, the kind the Fates wove their tapestries of destiny with. “I’m so devastatingly simple, but we can save the best parts for the honeymoon.” But oh, now for the moment she’d been waiting for their entire relationship! A chance to stab him. Tenderly. Only a minor puncture to create those necessary droplets of blood. “This is for all the times you’ve ‘fired’ me, by the way. All my stabbing threats have come to fruition.” “Courthouse is a-okay with me too, Nutmeg. So is a party after and then the good stuff for the honeymoon,” Hades readily concurred. He was completely fine with something simple, nothing over the top, and just focusing on why they were doing this in the first place - because their sexual chemistry was dynamite (for an eternity). Oh yeah, and he loved her too. Enough to last forever, and then some. He made a grumbling tiger growl of a sound when she pricked his finger - yeah, now they were getting a preview of the good stuff here. “Kinky,” he winked. “Didn’t know I was into bloodplay, but this is getting me kind of switched on, you stabbing me. Don’t think I won’t return the favor though.” Though he’d just stab her with his godly cock, not an actual blade. Better that way. When his blood went into the potion, it made a distinct hiss of a sound, smoke emitting. Now for the mushroom. Almost there. Almost done. He was fine, really. “It’s the red one - on the shelf, next to the stone as white as the moon, and some spare moss.” You never knew what you’d find in a potion master’s lair. Aw, did that hurt? Meg set the needle down and put the tip of his finger in her mouth - a gentle suckle, a kiss as a bandaid, all while delivering him a clear set of ‘fuck me’ eyes. “Red mushroom, roger,” she said and peeled away from his smoldering body to retrieve it. The one next to the lunar-looking stone and, sure, the moss - she’d ask about that particular ingredient later, because what the heck? Inquisitively, she twirled the stem in her fingers. “You needed mushroom powder so let me guess: mortar and pestle action until its pulverized? What’s this even supposed to do?” Assuming it wasn’t the kind of ‘shroom that’d put her into a psychedelic state. It was very possible Meg would be tripping balls a little, when she drank the final product - just made it all the more fun, eh? “It’s a type of mushroom that has been used to fend off aging, for maybe like...a couple thousand years?” Hades shrugged. “Just something else to add the eternity aspect, and be powerful enough to reverse the effects. Go at it with the mortar and pestle again, and I might get even more turned on.” To see her so diligently grinding? Oh yeah. Totally hot. “See, potioncraft isn’t too hard. Keep practicing and you’ll be golden.” It took patience to learn, but he personally thought all the work paid off - there were some tasks that were best with potions, and not your typical ‘razzle dazzle’ magic. Besides, it was a portion of all things arcane that most anyone could learn, with the proper diligence. “Blood, grinding shrooms - you’ve got some straaaaaange turn ons today,” she leered, tearing the mushroom into pieces and sprinkling it into the mortar. Easier to smash up that way, she thought, and she did proceed to that slow, steady grinding that would make it into a fine (and snortable, she guessed) powder. But all in all, the craft wasn’t difficult to learn. Meg knew it’d take study and continuous practice - along with a couple mistakes - and it was something they could do together, something therapeutic that wasn’t just a fuck at the edge of the table. Not that she was complaining. Multiple stress outlets were just better to have. Now, to add it to the potion. “Let me know if I need to stop or just pour it all in.” “Just pour it on in, then stir,” Hades instructed, hands resting on Meg’s shoulders for a moment, sliding down her arms lightly, then he stepped back to give her the space to finish completing the potion. “After you give it a good stir, cork it up with the topper and you’re done. It needs a little bit of time to percolate.” The finished product didn’t look very appetizing - the original potion glowed crimson, whereas the newer, reversed version would be a fine verdant shade (green being on the opposite end of the color spectrum and all). “Then once we have that courthouse date, it’ll be...smooth sailing? Maybe.” And a honeymoon destination. Someplace private, secluded, just for them. Hades would research it. Maybe it would even be in Greece, as a homage to their roots and places even the Gods couldn’t resist, with miles of velvety sand and seas as clear as diamonds. Meg had to give it a good whiff to test out the aroma - it tickled her nose, not unpleasantly, and the scent wasn’t (surprisingly) anything awful. With one of its most important ingredients being the blood of the God of Death, she expected it to have a sulphuric sort of hell stench. After one last good swirl, she popped it closed and done, the end of mortality in liquid form, bottled up. “Should we expect side effects?” she asked, eyeing it with some suspicion. “Are we going to have to be bringing barf bags just in case?” Emergency prune juice, maybe? Was she going to piss green for awhile? “My hair isn’t going to catch on fire by association with it having some of you in this, is it?” Side effects didn’t sound very romantic for their special day, so Hades hoped not. Originally he just assumed that downing the potion would bring about a need for a vomit catcher - but then again, that would be pretty counterproductive, having the damn thing come right back up. “Honestly? No idea,” he crinkled his nose in thought. “Worst case scenario, it might conk you out for awhile - then when you wake up, you’ll be a whole new person.” An immortal. Meg wouldn’t really look any different, but she might feel stronger. More energized. No need for a coffee IV anymore - he had definitely cut back, but then again, it was some type of thing where every person’s experience must be different. “The original potion wasn’t meant to really do any damage, with lasting side effects, just take away the immortality. So I’m guessing the reverse is true too.” “If not,” Megara began, setting the precious vial aside - an arm hooked around his neck to pull him down, giving his lips a peck. “I’ve got a long, long time to get payback in the scenario I start growing hair out of straaaaaaange places, Hades.” Mostly kidding. She trusted his guidance, anyway, trusted this recipe because it came from him and just trusted him, overall - it’d be an interesting eternity. |