Shadows of Olympus: Chapter Three IC

[Lillian Thorne]

Kate Helens walked home late from the office as if she owned the world. Perhaps that was because she once had, at least a small part of it. Once upon a time she had been called Hecate, but now she was more frequently known as Ms. Helens and that was fine. Even so, the night was her time and she’d never feared it. This city had been her home off and on for a great many years. Riddled with crossroads it supplied her with small trickles of power that kept her sated. The recent events with her fellow gods only increased the wisps of power that came to her from the whispered prayers of the faithful and those who had come to believe after witnessing the battle in these very streets. She’d not been there to defend this city and so she wasn’t as well fed as Athene or Hephaestus or the others who had been seen, but she’d never exactly been starved either.

She looked down as the phone in her pocket chimed, slipping her finger over the face of it to unlock it and began to read the notes about her meetings the next day, just sent by her assistant. Because she was occupied with her phone the missed the sounds of footsteps behind her, a rookie mistake that she would have been embarrassed to admit to had anyone been given the chance to ask. When she did hear the sound of shuffling footsteps behind her she rolled her eyes and readied herself to cast something nasty at the purse snatcher behind her. She was a goddess after all, it might drain her resources but it would be worth it. She turned, hand held high, a dense ball of darkness pulsing within her palm only to freeze. It wasn’t a purse snatcher, it wasn’t even a pair. It was at least a dozen and all of them looked at her with a strange expression on their faces. It was something akin to lust and hunger but twisted, a distant relative at best.

They were the usual sort for the most part, hollow eyes people with varying degrees of jaundice or tooth loss depending on their preferred poison. Some of them were the sort to shake cups at you listlessly from doorways, change clanging in the bottom of it. A few of them were not the usual sort. A young girl, probably in high school stood in the back, her face flushed and her manner nervous but still she looked at Kate with that same hungry expression. Not far from her, as if they sought each other out for normality’s sake was a business man, approaching thirty and fighting it if his body were any indication, there was muscle under his suit.

That was when she saw it. A small pulsing golden light flickered under his skin and then disappeared. Once she saw it on him she began to see it on the others. There was no rhythm to it, just the occasional appearance under their skin, on all parts of their bodies, gone as soon as it was noticed. She was unsettled by the appearance and began to back away slowly, knowing not to run. She’d been around Artemis enough to know that you never turn and run if you wished to avoid being hunted. It didn’t matter. They weren’t animals. Animals would have been kinder.

One of them hissed, voice thick with need and phlegm “I can smell it, she’s full of it.”

It was as if the words were a switch, in unison they sprang at her, roaring inhumanly and moving faster than they had any right to. She stood no chance. They had her and she was buried under the lot of them. There was no time to think, no time to react, there was only time to die as hands and mouths found their way to her body, piercing her flesh and draining her dry.

Athene moved about the cabin restlessly. She’d been so happy there despite the pain she’d been in. The whole world had been the four walls of the cabin, her life beginning and ending with the inhabitants. But that was when she’d been helpless and hurting. Now she was well, or well enough she could fake it. She still had deep gnawing pain that she hid for the most part. It made her grateful, that pain. It made her appreciate every breath she took, every breath he took. But he wasn’t there just then. He’d had to go back to his mortal life, even if only briefly and she suddenly had a great deal of sympathy for her stepmother. Which was not a comfortable place to be in. No, she didn’t care for that.

She hadn’t heard from her father, but then she hadn’t expected too. Even though she had been the worse of the casualties he wouldn’t have approved of her company and so had stayed away. She supposed he might think he was doing her a favor. He wouldn’t have been able to hide his disapproval so he’d given her silence. Still it stung more than a little to hear on the news of all things the main reason for his disappearance; it seemed Hera was pregnant. It was shocking really, the first god to be born in her family in forever it seemed. What would it mean to be a god born to this modern, unbelieving world?

Leave it to her father, he’d turned a tricky situation into campaign gold. He’d withdrawn from the race to stay home and tend to his wife whom Athene had to admit, glowed for the few seconds they’d had the camera on her. This had had a strange effect on nearly the entire female voting base and Athene was certain once he got back on the campaign trail the numbers would be vastly different no matter his “conservative views”. She snorted thinking of it and was only momentarily distracted by the boredom setting in.

She needed to get back into the world. Her spiders brought her plenty of tidbits, keeping tabs on most of her family but it wasn’t enough. She like Hephaestus was a god of the people. She’d spent so many years of her immortal life fostering and mentoring worthy men. She felt cut off and alone without some interaction. She’d toyed with the idea of slipping in to the military. She’d done that before. Through her guidance she’d brought many a promising soldier into prominence but it seemed too much like crowding her love. The military was his life right then and she was so new at being with someone that she didn’t want to misstep and crowd. Though her body and heart sang from their time together her mind was filled with doubts. She’d waited so long for this that it still seemed like a dream and she waited with baited breath for him to compare her to his wife and realize the mistake he’d made. She hated that she was being so irrational but she couldn't seem to help herself. She took herself out to the porch and leaned against one of the posts that held up the roof, twining her long arms around it, pressing her cheek into the smoothness of it. She stared out at the woods that had been her own personal haven and considered not for the first time seeing if there was enough juice in her to leave, to walk the ways to her old home and begin again. Not leaving him, no, never that but getting her own life back, not separate from him but apart. It didn’t make any sense to her, even as she said it to herself. She supposed it was from a lifetime of being a goddess alone.

Just as she closed her eyes and began summoning her strength the phone rang. It was an old phone, one with a rotary dialer and thought they were not connected to any phone lines that she knew of it worked. Hephaestus hadn’t cared to explain and she’d liked the twinkle in his eyes when he’d refrained from answering so she hadn’t pressed. Now she strode over to it and lifted the receiver.

“Hello.” She said into it, her voice a purr, a strange tone for a goddess of wisdom to sport.

“Is this Minerva Grey?”

Startled she answered in a short surprised tone. “It is, what is this in regards to?”

“Were you aware that you were listed as the next of Kin for Kate Helens?”
Kate Helens? Athene was momentarily stunned and then it came to her. Hecate. Next of kin. That wasn’t good.

“Yes, is something wrong? Tell me.” her words came out in a sharp crack, a voice that had commanded armies, won battles.

The woman did. As her hurried words came out the goddess leaned against the well made wall upon which the antiquated phone hung and slowly slid down to the floor, horror and remembered pain threatening to overwhelm her.

[Fallenreaper]

Nemesis

It had been a long chase, her wings to head ached with a throbbing that seemed to pound at her focus then again she been up late into the night. Black wings pressed deeply into the mattress, too exhausted to shrink them, and engulfed her body in soft feathers. Gently she stirred as light, harsh and deeply penetrating hit her eyes, as her arms stretched out to fold into the pillow. Eyelids flutter open to reveal drained amber irises to take in the daylight streaming in casting a dim pale glow on her white skin. Pain pulsed in her head setting a terrible rhythm in the back coming in waves as she forced her body up, the smell of dark coffee broke giving off a heavy rich scent to arouse her mind from its sleep.

Her right felt puffy, light black bruising around the socket made her drew up delicate fingers to prod it. The finger started from the duct tracing the cheek bone to the other side. It made her hiss, tender to the touch and sore with a swollen feeling it like water trapped in the flesh. The criminal’s lucky strike and her own carelessness, that was all, so it was best to get up to tend to the result. No matter how much Nemesis didn’t want to get up. Better not delay, afraid any longer then Nemesis would not at all, as she moved. Then again it was her fault for hanging the 40 pounds more than her weight man by a bungee cord just a few feet from the concrete road outside the local police station, it was bit going overboard.

Pulling her body up with the ache flooding her muscles to sit up in bed, her red hair slightly matted and tangled, before pressing her two fingers into the bridge of her nose. The sudden rush of blood to her head made Nemesis dizzy, pausing for a moment while the room spun and her left leg flopped over the bed’s edge to touch the floor with bare feet. To be truthful, Nemesis felt like a drunk after a heavy night of partying then a fight barely remembering anything save the highlights, not even when she managed to change into a white spaghetti strap tank top or blue mini shorts. After a moment or two, her other foot touched the ground. There was a rustle of feathers which scratched the cloth sheets that wrapped about, detangled by her hands as Nemesis pulled them away. She wondered if the movie character Batman had ever felt like this some days. A joint in her elbow popped abruptly when she put pressure on it, lips pulled up in a cringe and surprise followed by other small crackles.

Part of her been happy for a while now yet… it didn’t seem enough. Nemesis had wanted separate beds, but the problem sharing with the room in their shared small apartment that it barely had any room for anything extra or duplicate. So she decided to take shifts or offered to sleep on the couch. The money they made had to stretch and she knew this, but it didn’t mean Nemesis wasn’t disappointed by it. Better than nothing she thought and her body finally wobbled to a stand. Her stomach was growling as she inched her way to the kitchen hearing the crack and sizzle of something being cooked over a skillet, smiling at the man that was likely making himself something to eat unsure of the current time. Likely it was late afternoon.

Placing her hand on the smooth stone like surface of the counter in her way to him, passing freshly washed dishes and damp towel underneath to catch the water drips as well as the brewing coffee streaming black liquid into a glass pitcher. Nemesis stopped, turning her front to face the edge, to pull her hand to open a cabinet and pulled from it a porcelain mug. It clattered to the top before the other came to clasp the handle, pouring the thick hot caffeine rich wakeup call into the mug. A small commercial yellow bear filled with honey stood nearby beside a bowl of sugar cubes, creamer and spoons. Nemesis took the honey and snapped open the lid, pouring the golden syrup into it before taking a spoon and stirring it.

It cut the bitterness yet left didn’t override the flavor giving it a heavy over sweet mocha taste some flavored creamers did. Her hands wrapped about the coffee drawing it up to her lips, blowing softly as it passes though down her throat warming her from the inside out. Her mind shook the sleep just a bit more from her focus making it least hazy. Once pulled away her lips turned in a smile before turning to Jeremiah and speaking.

“Is too late in the day to say good morning?” Her eyes wondered to watch the oil leaping in the pan, that overprotective need filled her as her left forefinger tinged the mug’s side with the nail. She was fighting the impulse to ask if he wanted her to cook that for him instead distracted herself with the warm colors of the kitchen.

[Hale]

Some days are worse than others...

For a long time now, Dionysus struggled to keep the darkness that clawed away at his sanity at bay; over the eons of his existence it came and went without warning. The last time it had taken him was more than half a century ago; in that time millions had perished in one of the most destructive wars in recent history. Whatever triggered it caused him to descend into the pits of consuming madness, a madness that held it's own secret agendas that eluded him. Dionysus knew it was because of the lack of power and influence over the mortals, he dared not to think of what it would be like the next time it returned.

Riding in the backseat of the Rolls Royce Phantom Limousine was as menial to him as a man taking the bus to work; it was all just an appearance that came with the identity he now assumed; not the man he really was on the inside. Man, the idea of him being mortal did not sit well with Danny Wilde... no, Dionysus of Olympus.

“Fifteen minutes until we arrive, Mr. Wilde.” The chauffeur called from behind the wheel, bringing his focus back to this world. He was happy to be done with the oversight committee and wanted nothing more than to escape to his penthouse, there was a bottle of cognac of suitable vintage calling his name. He shut his eyes and let the sounds of a string quartet playing a rendition of a cello concerto by Brahms, he felt his spirit being washed away on the tune of the sombre piece. Exquisite.

Why was it that when he was most at peace he saw her in his mind? The relentless hound that besieged his thoughts and haunted his nightmares, she who hated him so intensely as an infant because of his illegitimate birth. Born to a god and mortal, born again to his father... raised by many yet loved by so few. Even his name portrayed him as a foreigner among them, an outsider who rose to the heights of the Olympians. But she loathed his existence, a reminder of the infidelity of her husband; Zeus, king of the gods.

Hera...

I want you to know something, mother of gods, one day I will have my revenge for the hatred you poured out on me. So that not even the memories of mortal men shall know thy name; when that day comes I will be free of you, forever. A smile grew on his lips as he relished the thought of sating his vengeance, only to turn to a frown as he knew it would be a long time before such a thing could happen. For now, distance was his only reprieve; one of the reasons he abandoned the Olympians in a moment of doubt.

“We're here, sir.” Danny's eyes snapped open to see his chauffeur looking back to him curiously, he must have been out of it for awhile. Oh, well, now that he was home he could put today behind him and retreat into himself; a stiff drink and perhaps a bath were in order.

“Thank you, Henry.” He smiled and let himself out of the limo, servants were not the same as worshippers; he knew that their love came at a price. That is why he found himself in his current occupation; he was already loved by millions and that was enough to boost some of his power. As he stepped out of the limo, he looked up at the tower before him; one of the many acquisitions that the oversight committee had brought up during his meeting with them. Why have money if not to spend it? Of course, he didn't say that to them, a grin formed as he thought about how well the verbal fencing went.

Time to unwind...

[Vanquished]

Aphrodite and Hermes


Purplish blotches were beginning to form. Aphrodite took in her body as she stared in the mirror. She rotated slowly, looking at her arms, her legs, her bare abdomen. None of it would be permanent, but the bites, scratches, and bruises would be a brief yet pleasant reminder.

Hemers wiped his hands and stood in the doorway watching her. Damn even in different colors she was amazing. She didn’t see him of course. She was looking at herself. She was pleased with the slight imperfections that were beginning to show because on her they were gorgeous, like everything about her. He could appreciate that. Still, it was time to let things go. Fly off on a good note, a high one, a moan at least. Before she turned he moved back to the bedroom. He quickly flew to the window pretending to watch the sky line of Rome.

Done with the inventory, she watched the woman in the mirror smile back. She had kicked out the mortal, his screams and sobbing had been much too much. Hermes had been kind to the man, but the look in the god's eyes had sent shivers down her spine. It was more than she could have hoped for; the fire, the dark passion. She licked her lips at the thought but put on a red silk robe. It barely covered her past the hips. She tied it loosely and returned to the bedroom. Her eyes found Hermes, "It's still over you know. And with that mess..." She gestured towards the bloody mess, "I won't be staying much longer either..." A slight set back, to leave residence and job behind. But moving to a new city with a new name would not set Aphrodite back for long.


When she walked into the room Hermes smiled and nodded at her release. She told him it was over as if he needed the words. He knew. He knew. He turned from her and looked out at the night sky. It was full of fake lights that covered the stars, like small bruises that hide pleasures and pains.

He slowly looked back. “I think we should leave now and not wait. Each our own way,” he opened his hands, “but what do you say we do something different? Something not expected? I mean I am tired of running from one place to the next until bores me. What do you say we go to the place we would lest be expected?” He waited to see if he had caught any of her adventurous spirit. If she wanted some excitement, if she want the purple of bruises and the thrill of danger, he knew where he should take her. He knew where he should let her go, or more importantly where she could feel the thrill of walking away from him.

“ Let’s go see Ty.”

Aphrodite's posture changed in one quick moment. From lounging back, pleased with herself, she was now tense, a scrutinizing look upon her face. What was dear Hermes playing at? Ty. It was the first time Aphrodite had even thought of her in how long? But Ty was in Hades and Hermes seemed eager to submit himself to torture. Aphrodites wondered briefly if this was meant to be payback, but there was hell to pay to those in the confines of Hades. Especially Persephone.

Her face relaxed and returned to its serene beauty. Green eyes twinkled in city lights as she joined him by the windows. Fingers traced his back lightly, "I'll go. Wouldn't want our daughter to think father loved her more, hm?" She arched an eyebrow and laughed lightly at the sarcasm in her voice. Hermes would regret this, of that she was sure.

[May]

Persephone & Ares

She knew he had to be near by. She could feel him. They'd only been together for a little while, but they'd been so very very close in that time. Even if he was a few rooms away, she could feel his presence as she grew closer to it. And that was rather what she was after. He'd not said for certain, but she knew that she calmed him as much as he ignited her. It was a strange sort of exchange, but one she enjoyed far more than she should.

But she shouldn't dwell on that any. He made her happy, and that was what she needed more than anything else. He made her smile when very little else could. Even when he wasn't just taking out his anger on her in other passion fueled ways. She felt the one corner of her mouth pull up in a little smirk as she finally rounded a corner out onto a balcony that over looked a field of asphodels. He was looking brooding again, and frankly, she wasn't surprised.

Persephone said nothing as she padded forward on her barefeet, slipping up behind him again like she so often did to slide her arms up his sides, splaying her hands and fingers out across his wide chest. Her face pressed into his back for a moment before she pushed up on her toes to rest her chin on his shoulder. "I'd ask you what you're thinking," she murmured softly, "but I already know how much you hate him for what he did..."

Ares' masculine face was now the color of smudged slate, a hue unfortunate in its lifelessness just like the domain he was cursed to dwell in. His eyes seemed flat and now dry of venom unlike how they were once filled with. One would've wondered as to where have the unquenchable malice, which had been there in its resource as far as anyone could recall, gone to. Most knew that empathy did not exist within him and in its absence would've been something cold that thrived, always promising a kind of brutal glee at every victory, be it real or imagined, obvious or subtle.

As soon as he felt her hands upon his sides, the Wargod shut his eyes and rested his chin over his chest. Her touch alone could take almost anyone's breath away. An art made to perfection, the wordless language of the romantic. No matter how angry and painful he was, the God just couldn't bring himself to end the initial moment without returning a gesture. Thus it usually came with a tight squeeze from his own hand. A squeeze which transformed that wordless language, dispelling all notions of romance and filling the vast, prolonged absence of decorum with bald contempt. Spite was reserved for those who deserved it, Ares reminded himself and it was in that instance that he pulled her almost crushed hand to his lips as if to mend it with a kiss.

Even so, the pressure of that kiss and the slight tremble at the restraint grip was like a gesture whispering an elaborated schemes of vengeance against the hosts of slights. His fingers then interlocked and rested over his heart before he lifted his chin, exposing the tendons of his neck to her as Ares stared skywards.

Do you not hate him for what he'd done to you, Persephone?

He wanted to ask, but that would be introspection, wouldn't it? Too trying a task, pursuing such questions. It's much easier following the commands of another. A trait where all the rest of the Olympians shared. Defiance were bound to be punished. But just whose orders have the King onced followed? How then was he made to lead?

The God of War then sighed and turned to face the Queen of the Underworld. He reached for her waist and pulled her towards him, staring into her eyes in utter silence for a moment.

"I was thinking of how I could bring joy into your life in this... God forsaken place..." Ares said before he managed a smile.

She cringed the slightest bit when he squeezed her fingers a bit to tightly, but she didn't pull away. He'd not meant to hurt. And he did often forget his strength. But that didn't mean that her fingers weren't in pain as he squeezed them. The kiss soothed any anger she might have had, though it was nothing to her just then.

He turned to face her again and she could see the soften angered in his eyes, and she just looked up at him, stepping to meet him while he pulled her in by her waist. He wanted to make her happy? Didn't he know he did that already? The only other thing he could do to make her happier, they were sorta already working on. And really...it wasn't that bad down here, you grew used to it. But the few weeks it had been hadn't seemed to be enough for him. She didn't think he wanted to get used to it anyways.

Slowly, she opened her mouth, the corners of her lips tugging up into a smile. "You do bring me joy," she murmured softly, her hands sliding up his back to rest on his strong shoulder blades. "And you bring me to joy quite often." The Queen of the Underworld chuckled, licking at her lips for a moment at the thoughts that that had brought up. "But truly, you do. And lots of other wonderful feelings as well. Just wish I could light the fire in you like you do to me..."

His eyes shifted from one to the other as he held her gaze. He had seen all manner of women for aeons, both devine and mortals, from the sincere and loyal to those lustful. Persephone, unmistakenly the former than the latter, had answered him with a kind and assuring words but the impact of those voices flung his way was like pebbles thrown at the Wargod's shield. It merely bounced off the shell of his deep wounds and hatred, barring him of acceptance, deafening him from reasons and blinding him of beauty. Yet it was a miracle that they'd not numbed him of touch.

A hand then reached up for her cheek, coarse and huge as he caressed her; "You deserve more than just this, my Queen.." He slowly leaned forward, "..and until I've presented that to you..." his lips then grazed hers. "..I shall isolate myself and wait for such an opportunity.." Ares finally claimed her lips, fingers threading through her hair before they curled to grab a handful of her filaments and held her in place as the kiss deepened.

What are we to them, Persephone? We are nothing! Blunted, just like my gladius which'd longed for the taste of blood. Softened by the dullness of this realm, in the absence of colors. We have lost our simplicity, Persephone, lost its purity. We are the Dark without even a hint of mystery. How do you expect me to burn like I once had when HE had persistently poured water upon the source, extinguishing the very element that made me who I am? This is the terrible price for following HIS orders, Persephone.. Casted out to guard our own prison where we learned about the dead. Where we.. or at least I'd also learned that love does not belong in this world...

Nonetheless, the Wargod had always appreciated her love for him. It was pure despite what he'd assumed. She'd always been that way, brave and strong even when the odds seemed to be against her. It was these facts that'd made him wanting to pursue what he thought she deserved. Conserving his heart for her until the terms were met. Slowly, he pulled his head back and turned to stare at the distant horizon. Stroking at her hair as if comforting her as he pulled her head to his chest, over the soft and seemingly weak beatings of his heart.

Persephone settled against his chest after the kiss, enjoying just standing there with him. He always seemed so determined to make sure that she remembered her position. To make sure she was rewarded for it. And she couldn't help feeling that he was right. That she did deserve more than this and that she should take it if the opportunity presented itself. She was daughter of the King of the Gods, and here she was shut off for the rest of them for the most part with only the eldest son of the King with her.

Her hands clutched at the soft fabric that covered over his wonderfully sculpted body. "We will get what's rightfully ours," she murmured against his chest, looking up at him with a mischievous smile tugging up the corners of her mouth. "We will win."

Just then, something seemed to tug at his instincts. An irritation which was unwise to simply ignore. But he couldn't yet tell of it's nature. Ares frowned, concentrating on the source. Something was coming, he could feel them. An intrusion, an unexpected visit or an invasion? The Wargod just can't confirm which. Was this how the ruler of a domain always felt like when somebody or something stepped foot on their realm, pondered Ares.

"Go and see to our guest, Persephone.." he said without looking at her. "..I sensed trouble approaching..." Ares told her as he released her from his embrace.

Persephone perked up like a dog sensing someone coming. The look on Ares' face told her that he felt much the same as her. Someone was in her kingdom, and as it's guard, he could feel it too. But as this was her realm, she could tell who was in her kingdom. And if that harlot thought that she could come back in and take him away from her, she had another thing coming.

She reached for Ares' hand, pulling him along with her as she made her way to the throne room to meet their newest guests. Her face was set in something of a scowl, her dark eyes flashing with a light that they hadn't shown since the fight to save the Underworld a few weeks back.

[Fallenreaper]

Tyche

Crash!

The glass vase shattered into pieces, the cylinder shape cracked and spider webbed like the delicate master pieces of Athene’s many spies. It slid loudly to the floor farther breaking the chucks smaller, grounding into the golden flower carpet with red background. Then she could hear a second sound in the earsplitting crash as silent that follow settled, a sound that drowned it seemed even the heavy and labored breath of the goddess of luck. A hand pressed against the wall was bleeding letting the red liquid flow across the planes of the palm and wall to the mess below. A gash, deep and shredded from close impact, had a dark line trail along the curves of too thin muscle leaving a wet and warm sensation.

Yet the hand felt numb. It tingled; shocks of tiny sparks seemed to leap on the surface of her skin like it was sleeping. Tyche could feel the bones on the verge of breaking with the rocketing trembles made by the fury she felt. Her skin took on a red tint as the rage once more took over; blood pounded in her ears and drowned out her hearing. It will pass, her mind screamed, it will PASS! She was determined to ride out like all the others. The only thing that scared her was the fact they seemed to be getting worse, not better as each one now ended in her injuring herself just to stop.

It was a release to relieve in the moment. A burst of rage Ty knew well yet never knew how to stop, her hand had reached for the closest item to her: a glass vase with etched flower of poppies with plant dye coloring the shapes creating a see though opaque look, before smashing it’s side into the wall so hard that her hand was now touching it. Her chest hurt but she knew only she could feel the pain, only she knew why it feel like a hole had twisted itself into her core. Her bright green eyes seemed to trace the arm to the beginning of dark purple bruises just a few inches pass the elbow and faded red cuts, blotched made from self-inflicting, that made a chaotic like path up the upper arm to the shoulder and though she couldn’t see them, she knew it reached the back as well. Some were fresh while others were yellowing into old memories. It was like the sea’s tides. It flooded up to drown her, boiling her and no matter how much she tried to hold to it back, never enough to stop the eruption before it came out. Finally it receded into a cooling period that she could control and put away. For how long varied, mostly on damage given as well as time it lasted.

Either she lashed at an object or when that didn’t seem enough, it was herself. It happened often enough to leave her shaking, exhausted, and aching. She wasn’t here and this pain was Tyche’s own for many a centuries. She felt it didn’t matter if she suffered just that she made the numbness stop. Lashed out in any way she could and make it go away leaving her in peace to fall asleep, not which was better. It was hard with reoccurring nightmare of bites and teeth ripping in her all before they melted together into three misshapen hags that reached their crone hands out to toy with her thread. Pull it farther until she never see the end making her scream out of her dreams into the real world itself.

Damn them… damn the fates. Especially Atropos, for Tyche knew she was the one to severe the thread like a wolf spider on a helpless insect, but why? Left something cold and dark in its place, something Tyche couldn’t bring herself to be swallowed in and instead let another more violent emotion take its place. Even pain was better. Though now, her cuts and bruises seemed to have dulled. The room was sound proof or she assumed, last thing she wanted to hear was Ares waging sexual war on her Aunt each night so there no need to worry over Persephone rushing in to the noise. Tyche turned, pressing her back against the wall as her body sank down with the glass bits biting into her bare skin. Her body was trembling violently, like someone else had control, while her arms wrapped tightly about her curling up legs. Balling up in her waiting for it to pass, nails dug into the soft flesh drawing fresh from indentions.

It strange as inflicting pain brought her relief. Her eyes sought something else to focus on while her body seemed to burn into ashes, uncared for the glass bites or the gash on her palm. She could deal with this alone and those later. The room was a wreck progressing worse each episode, holes of her dagger blade penetrating the wall and dents of her fist made shattered cracks from the impact. There was no fixed pattern just where she happened to been. A beautifully carved dresser with a long full face mirror on a tilting pivot was nothing more than splintered firewood as she taken one of the posts off the bed with her bare hands to beat the thing leaving scuffs, broken pieces and unhinged draws to scatter across the room. The mirror itself was gone, broken so far into pieces it was like sand embedded in the floor and dress’s top. That didn’t include the blood she loss in the event some of it was crusted on in hand prints and smeared leavings. The bed…well the only thing useable was a pillow that escaped. Though it was thicker and should have lasting longer, it was among the first victims of her anger in the beginning now stood as a messy pile of feathers and rags overlapped by the framing that came down over top. It all she had the will to focus on as the quakes became more violent catching her attention, forcing her to realize this was far from over.

It will pass…she coaxed her mind to stay with her, to starve off the heat that seemed to cook her alive. Too shaken to scream or seek help and in the end, a dead truth seemed to cloud her mind. Growing up meant being alone… just a bit longer, hold on a bit longer and she would be fine. Tyche hoped anyway. By the gods, the goddess of luck hoped as the tremors seemed endless. It would stop quicker if she willed it away but for now, with Persephone tied to Ares’s hips and her rage, she more afraid going out might end with her hurting someone she loved…worse part is, Tyche wasn’t sure if she could stop herself in time.

I can handle this…she lied to herself.

It will pass…she continued to sooth herself like a terrified child though inside she beginning to doubt her thoughts more and more, it will pass… “Please just let it pass.”

[May]

Artemis & Orion


Word had come at last. And while she should have been happy to know, it was upsetting to say the least. Hecate couldn't do it for them. There were suggestions to accept the help followers of hers, or to find some shawman or something. Use magic that wasn't hers to command in such ways anymore. The spell she'd whipped up to bind Orion's soul in the first place had been something she'd done without real thought. She could have killed him just as easily as bound him to the owl. But undoing, that was trickier, and she didn't want to be the one responsible for that if it failed.

Thankfully, Artemis wasn't above accepting help from mortals who weren't total idiots. And if Hecate was associated with them, then they shouldn't be. So when this mystical man showed up at her cabin and didn't bat an eye at the normally imposing-to-mortals figure of Fowl standing behind the Huntress at her door, she let him in.

He reminded her a lot of the druids who's numbers had dwindled so much over time. Which was a shame, she liked them. They respected the earth, the creatures, the wilds. They were her type of people. He spoke with a strange accent she didn't quite know where it was from. She'd not traveled much in recent decades and when she did, she didn't speak with the locals. He seemed native to this place though, as he moved about her cabin, setting himself up. He added nothing she would object to in her home, preparing the air more than anything for what he was about to do.

The Huntress settled herself down on the pile of furs she had set up near her low burning fire that still flickered in the hearth even in the heat of the day. Her hounds stayed back, as did Fowl, leaving her alone. Well aside from the one who should be at her side then. Orion.

Orion tilted his head to the side somewhat, a dull hoot coming from his open mouth as he watched the human arrive, walking around and setting up his things. After a few moments, his heart started to beat a little faster - he'd seen Artemis the last few hours, rushing around the cabin, perhaps preparing for something - maybe she'd finally found someone to change him back?

Excitement clutching at his heart, he opened his wings wide, soaring down from the gutter - landing on Artemis' shoulder, digging his talons into her bone. He folded his wings close to his chest, nuzzling against her cheek lightly in greeting. There was a few moments of pause, before he attempted to speak to her in the language of owls - hooting and moving around on her shoulder.

"Is that a solution to my problem, love?"

The small hiss and grunt at the pain of his talons in her shoulder slipped by quickly. She'd grown used to it, not just from him, though he had done it the most. But it still stung to have the sharp points made for tearing at the hides of animals pushed into her soft flesh. She said nothing though, and closed her eyes at his nuzzling. He at least was happy with her today. And that was excellent.

"Yes," she murmured, running a soft finger along the crown of his head, thinking that at last, after this day, she'd not be running her fingers over feathers but through his wonderfully soft curls again. Artemis didn't have the heart to admit that this could fail. She didn't want to admit to herself, let alone to him. "This is the solution to our problem."

The man still didn't look at the two of them, humming something as he worked, getting things set into place.

He tilted his head to the left as she hissed, pulling his talons out of her shoulder some - shifting about to a position where he would weigh less upon her shoulder, thus making her more comfortable.

"That is.. good. It fills me with joy." He replied, hooting softly - pressing closer against her, his soft feathers rubbing against the skin of her cheek. As she ran a finger down his crown, he hummed lightly in pleasure, nipping her finger possessively as she removed it from his head.

"Much as I love being an owl, it will be good to have you back in my arms again.. where you belong." He hummed again, starting to bring down his walls - after all, what was the point in being angry if she was going to fix everything? Artemis.. his love.. the cause of all his grief and anguish - but also the only person he lived for.

It was a complicated thing, and his head was whirring around as he stared at the man setting things up with his bright amber eyes, cocking his head to the right. Gazing at his movements with curiosity, Orion leant forward a little - unintentionally digging his talons deeper into his lover's shoulder.

The man finally turned to face them, a bright smile on his lips - bowing from the waist, inclining his head a little. "The ritual is ready to begin."

She didn't want to be separated from him just now, but she had no choice, and let the man offer a arm for Orion to perch on to be moved to where he was needed at to make this whole thing work. There was more chanting, changing the feel of the air inside the cabin. It felt like the air was growing thicker, blotting out the light that was coming in through her drawn curtains.

She watched, mesmerized, as the whole event took place in front of her. Lights flashed here and there, the song took on a feeling all its own and worked its way into her very being it felt. Then the light that had been slowly working its way from the inside of the owl that was her lover became too bright for the goddess to look at and she had to look away for the first time. When she looked back though, it wasn't an owl sitting there anymore. But flesh that was covered in fine hair instead of feathers.

He was back.

"Orion?" she called hesitantly, waiting for him to turn and look at her before she moved forward for just a second before she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms about him and holding him like she expected him to be pulled away from her at any moment.


Orion was slightly hesitant to be taken from Artemis, but he complied when the man held out his arm - tentatively transfering himself from his love's shoulder and onto the man's arm. He dug his talons in, an awful lot harder than he'd meant to - most probably a result of the anxiety he was feeling. Artemis hadn't said anything about it going wrong, but he knew there had got to be a chance something bad would happen. Maybe he'd get stuck as an owl forever - or maybe he'd die, or lose his memory.

He was set down on a small stone pedestal, and told with a soft murmur from the man to remain still - he hooted softly, hugging his wings close to his body, scrunching up his face a little.

When the chanting started, he started to quiver unconciously - despite being a Great Hunter, Orion was still easily scared. But he forced himself to be still - to be still for Artemis, to be strong for her.

Lights flashed in front of his eyes, and the chanting rung in his ears as it sped up and got faster. He was dazzled and dazed by the flickering flashes of light, his head spinning around - he hardly noticed as his form started to get bigger, his wings slowly stretching out, his feathers falling away, replaced by skin and a layer of hair on his arms, legs, chest and crotch.

When the transformation was complete, he was huddled up on the pedestal - his knees touching his chin, his arms wrapped around them. He opened his eyes slowly - blinking upon seeing that he could still see everything with the heightened senses of an owl, and his ears were still just as sensitive - when Artemis called his name, he looked up, the familiar feeling of his curls bouncing causing his lips to curve upward into a smile.

"Artemis!" He yelled, throwing his arms around her and hugging her close - not caring that he was naked, and she clothed - and that the man who had transformed him was still around. He pressed his head into the side of her neck, a single tear rolling down his cheek - pulling back after a few long minutes of holding her, he stared into her eyes with his bright, intelligent amber orbs. "It's good to be back, my love." He murmured, leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers gently.

It was wondrous to be back in his human body - to feel her skin against his, her hair on his cheek - it was so amazingly soft. He smiled, closing his eyes as he held her - what he'd been dreaming about for years.

She could feel the hot tears as they rolled down her face. But she didn't care. She didn't care at all if he saw her crying. It wasn't the first time, and she knew it wasn't going to be the last. And just the thought that he could wipe those tears away now made her cry more. He was back, he was really, truly back. When he kissed her she didn't move away any but pressed forward breathlessly. It was nice to kiss him again, even better that there was no looming battle ahead of them.

Artemis pulled back from the most wonderful thing she'd ever tasted to look at the man who'd brought back such wonderful joy to her life. She didn't disentangle herself from his arms any, just looked to the magic man who'd made her wildest dreams come true. "I have nothing more than words to thank you with and even that does not seem enough," she mumbled, her voice thick and rough from her tears.

"Just enjoy each other," he said as he started to back towards the door, his face all knowing smiles. "I will receive my rewards elsewhere." And with that he was gone, leaving the hunters alone again.

Artemis looked back to Orion, the tears silently streaming down her face still. "I am never letting you go again, my love," she whispered, pressing close and kissing him again like she'd never get the chance to again.

[Eastra Rain]

“But I want my juice nooooow!” the toddler screamed, her face cherry red. Her little fists were balled up, her feet planted firmly close together, and snot and tears ran in one stream onto her blue little dress. A “darling” her mother had said, forcing the girl’s fingers from her skirt earlier that evening. “Always behaved,” she had said, her smile strained. Patience wasn’t the woman’s virtue, and right now it wasn’t Kardia’s either. In the time when she fled to Earth for life, there had been so many snot nosed brats she thought that eternal patience, unlike her youth, would keep her well until sanity took claim.

No this girl was going to bring her to the brink of destruction, all because she wanted her juice.

The other children were playing with old blocks and discarded dolls that Kardia had found in the trash. (The new people are so fond of ridding themselves of perfectly fine things.) They knew the rules and respected her. Many of them were like her own personal children. Their parents discarded them, took their keys out of flashy purses and worn pants, and jingled back into their vehicles to rush life away. Kardia was stooped over this child, her face, once a mass of kindly wrinkles and twinkling eyes, was now creased together like cooling lava after an explosion, and those eyes of her were like dark waters filled with debris after a storm.

“Stacy,” she snapped! “I said no. If you cannot wait 15 minutes for your juice, then you will get water instead, and the others were get your share.” This only made things worse. Stacy, her green eyes like a grassy meadow, were dewing up with fresh tears.

“No juice?”

“None.”

And thus Stacy, her 5 year old self denied the one thing she solely wanted in the world, fell to the ground and started to stomp her little hands on dingy carpeted floor, her feet kicking out randomly, and started to scream. The other children had stopped playing and were watching the spectacle with the calmness one does seeing a movie. They accepted her tantrum as part of their daily lives, and when Stacy had spent herself to exhaustion, went back to their toys and pretended she didn’t exist.
“
Snot nosed brats”, Kardia hissed under her breath.

Stacy lay there on the floor, her pretty blue dress rumbled and stained with tears and snot, and ignored Kardia completely. The only time she mentioned her presence when is when she called her a “bitch”, and Kardia had all she could stand of that nonsense. She hefted Stacy up, who started kicking at beating at her calling her a bitch all the while, her tired body unable to do more then leave small bruises on the old woman’s skin, and was chucked into a cradle, tucked in like the baby she was, and left in the room screaming obscenities.

The other children watched for a reaction. At a tender age they learn the moods of the temperamental adults and can turn themselves practically invisible. Kardia refused to let her face show the dark anger bubbling underneath her skin. If she was a goddess still, that child would be cursed, and the little brat deserved it. Since when did kids become so foul mouthed and spoiled, she wondered out loud. It use to be they knew their place and were nice to work with. Now she detested most of them, and her patience was growing thin. It wasn’t just her pride smarting, it was her heart.
Goddess of the hearth, she once was. A protector over the household, a good omen. Now…divorce rates up and hope failing…It wasn’t just her magic failing, it was herself. She wanted to help and protect, but these humans just seemed to throw themselves into whatever danger they have, expose themselves to evil that they could easily avoid, and were on a collision course with destroying themselves. There was nothing she could do to stop it, not even if she had influence and power like the olden days.
She hobbled outside, looked from her sagging porch at the other houses, and closed the door soundly behind her. This wasn’t her time anymore. She didn’t belong, and wasn’t needed. A goddess without power, a goddess without title. Useless.
Just for a moment, just a second, she used the old power, the dwindling supply that was feeding her from her brother’s and sister’s, and allowed herself youth. Allowed herself hope. Her hair, auburn, blew in the wind, her eyes the heat of a hearth’s glow.
“I will make a place for myself,” she whispered. “I cannot just give in and remain in a state of consciences until time stops altogether. These people need all the help they can get, and with the gods trying to claim their places against scheming…” Little news came her way, but she knew enough about the problems that were laying claim to all kindred.

As she leaned on the railing, her hands cupping her heart-shaped face, a idea came to her. It use to be they would put laurels at their fireplaces as a sign of thanks. The children believed anything, and if she were to give them to them…tell them to pray to her…Well, maybe it would spread, and soon the town would be feeding her. Maybe she could become uncrippled…maybe she could stop running from her old life and meet up with them again, talk to them…Maybe she could give them what she had been giving everyone else until Christ became popular, and the Romans converted to Christianity.

Maybe…

Stacy came outside and looked at her with wide eyes. How long she had been standing there, Kardia didn’t know, but she would be the first believer. Changing herself back to preserve power, Kardia took her to the side and talked to her.
Maybe she wasn’t so useless after all.

[Lillian Thorne]

Jeremiah

Jeremiah grinned to himself as his partner wandered into the kitchen. She was a bit of a bear when she woke up and he’d learned to let her break the silence rather than speak and (likely) say the one thing to set her off. Some days such diatribes amused him and he began the day with a casually dropped “mornin’ Dame” or some such triviality meant to rouse her ire, but she looked battered by life enough that it wouldn’t’ be fun. Like shooting fish in the barrel, stealing candy from a baby or any number of over used idioms. He hissed in pain and swore a little as the hot oil popped and hit his knuckle. He jumped back and his cane, resting near at hand clattered to the floor. He popped his knuckle into his mouth and nursed it with the look of a surprised boy, who seemed surprised to be hurt never mind that he’d been the one to stick a coin in the eclectic socket.

“I got it.” he said without looking as he bent to pick up his cane. Abby was a sweetheart, ancient goddess or not, but she had a hard time letting him be a big-boy for all that he’d been tying his shoes for himself for years before she showed up at the office. Thoughts of being a big boy took on a different tone when his ass hit her delightful hip as he retrieved his aid. Cursing their small digs he straightened, re-positioned his cane and turned off the heat. He then slid the ham steak and eggs onto a plate and handed it to her.

“It’s too late to be morning but I’ll take it.” he said with his boyish grin in place as a stray lock of hair tumbled forward over his eye, further enhancing his boyish appeal with his constant need of a haircut. “I knew you were about to join the living, your snore pattern changed.”

Having delivered his gift of food he took up his cane and made his way painfully to the small table where a manila folder sat. He sat opposite it and tapped it with one long finger.

“Some light breakfast reading. A shared report from our friends with connections. No sharing this, but it is something to keep our eyes on.”


Melanie

The woman waiting in the shadow of the tall building watched the limo open and a man get out. Her breath sucked in as his face was illuminated by one of the many lights that lined the street. He was beautiful, more so in person, some inner light shown in him that made her dizzy even all the way to her vantage point. She ran her hand over her legs, drying her palms against the soft fabric of well worn jeans as they cupped well turned thighs and a perfectly rounded ass. Her golden tattooed belly was a study in softness, a tribal sun spiraling out around her pierced navel, her skin glistening as if she wore body glitter.

Her face rapt upon him she stepped out of the shadows and approached, her movements like a dance, all liquid grace and leonine power. She wasn’t a Hollywood beauty as such but there was a feral beauty to her that spoke of a heritage that long past might have carried the blood of a maenad, the fanatic followers of the god she unknowingly approached. Her head was covered in a mane of small brown, well tended dreads, tied back from her face with a silk scarf in a leopard print. Her breasts pressed fetchingly up against a simple black tank, cut high enough to show off her ink. She didn’t know what she was doing, didn’t know what she was going to say only that she needed to speak to him. As she neared him she slowed her steps, like stalking prey even though there was nothing overly aggressive in her walk, just simple confidence.

“Good evening,” she said, her voice a welcoming purr, her eyes almost fever bright.


Trouble for Tyche

In the silence of her room, her sound proof room, forms began to swirl. At first they seemed to be just the errant sprits that roamed the realm of Hades, incorporeal and only the dream of being human. But as they increased in number they took on stronger forms, human-shaped wisps of smoke but dotted all over with light flashes of gold, like fireflies or a dream of the sun that would never reach these parts.

But such shades never made it there, not into the inner palace of the Rulers of the underworld. They were usually stopped by the natural barriers that existed in this place, cordoning off the by type. Yet there they were, hovering before the young and wounded goddess. Their attention was fixed upon her, or more accurately on all the points on her body where she bled. Just as she would have become aware of them and noted their strangeness they pounced. A dozen forms launched themselves at her, their seemingly incorporeal hands stronger than they had any right to be as they gripped at her and phantom mouths lowered to her myriad cuts and began to suck.

[Lyzan]

Ares & Tyche


He whipped his head around to face the Goddess, pulling away his gaze from the horizon to the back of Persephone's head. Staring intensely with a frown of disappointment but with an absence of anger. Like a dog on a leash with the tail between it's legs, she led him towards the throne room by the hand. Ares, the one from back then would've swatted her hand and probably reached for her hair or neck to remind her of her place but the one at present simply lowered his chin in submission instead, remembering his position in the Underworld. He thought she would leave him be and heed his words like she'd told him she would once. It seemed that Zeus had somehow given her an order to keep the Wargod under control, to watch over his every actions and to keep him on the right course. Probably indirectly and without him knowing.

Silently and with a gloomy but sinking feeling, Ares the God of War followed. He forced the tension on his shoulders, to protest the submissive role, away. Something stirred within his chest then. His breathing shallowed and his tear ducts burned. There was pain as well, an irritation that gripped tightly around the lump of blood which pumped within his ribs. But there was nothing he could do.

As soon as they'd reached the throne room, he watched as the Queen took her place. Ares stood for a moment and focused on his instincts once more. Something was amiss, but couldn't she feel the same as he, pondered the Wargod. He turned his head sideways and concentrate a little harder, confused as to why Persephone had not heed his advice and see to Tyche, their guest and instead wait here as if to welcome new ones. She was more interested in flaunting her newly acquired authority and power in the Underworld and to also flaunt at how she'd managed to keep Ares as her slave who'd come to bend at her will instead of checking at her niece.

We can't win like this, Persephone.. Not, when my words are ignored.. We can't win..

The Wargod had no idea that the Queen have somewhat misinterprated his words and had sensed Hermes' and Aphrodite's approach. To him, it was an act of selfishness and an act of superiority. And he suddenly saw Zeus in her place, blinded with power and clueless as to how to run a kingdom.

"I'll be checking on your niece.." said Ares before he proceeded with or without her consent.

You can sit there on that throne and welcome whoever it is that you feel coming..

Ares wanted to say as he gave a disapproving glance to the Queen of the Underworld. Before Persephone could retaliate, the Wargod have already slipped through a passage for Tyche's room. His walk was brisk. Each step he took was like adding a brick to the wall of discomfort. Quicker he moved. Ares suddenly grunted and burst into a run as he whiffed the familiar scent of blood. His spear then manifested in his hand before he kicked at the thick door. Swiftly and with a quick precision aiming, Ares tossed the spear for the head of the threat closest to Tyche. To his chagrin however, these beings weren't made of flesh and bones. His weapon found the wall instead as it rushed through the target like a stick thrown to a fog.

Pshaw! The Dead?!

Impulsively, the Wargod tapped into the power that was entrusted to him as the Guardian of the Underworld and as the Protector of the Queen. He shot out his arm and spread his fingers as if to choke at something whereby multitudes of thick rope-like smoke suddenly emitted from his forearms. Like tentacles, these shiny black chains with flames rushed towards the damned. As the Queen's defender, surely he was granted with some powers to control what's already dead and in all sort of forms. He knew he'll be exhausted after that though. So like a whip, he slashed the chains at them, sending them to smash over the walls.

Threads…sliver snips of unattached life threaded their way about those..those thing’s limbs. Tightly they held and dug in deeper as if all the anger, hate and hurt pour a determination to make them hurt. If it was a living person then their limbs would have been cut off with the severe coiling while leaving nothing more than a stump then a limb. She strained at the pure effort to hold the creatures that lounged for her. Ty’s breath was labored, far worst then it been moments ago, heaving up and down. Her fists balled up with the wound left bare and exposed on her the white tank top now drenched in sweat chilling her body. Tyche felt filthy as they swarmed, touching her to feed themselves while she blocked the memories away for later. Not now. She couldn’t deal them right now, those green eyes looked hard and steely to the things that caused her pain.

The red liquid ran from Tyche’s wounds, bleeding and reddened from the greedy needs to feed their filthy mouths. That blood-her blood-was smeared on their lips some with blacken teeth, other missing completely while few held the perfect pearly whites snapping in the air. Snap went the choppers, their forms nothing more than mist as she stood driven by pure adrenaline and rage that boiled her veins. Her hands were shaking as she steeled them back knowing it did no good. It hurt…more than the injuries, more than their hands gripping her and held her to their appetites. Knees seem to quake, unsteadying the goddess that room felt like it should have been spinning. Right now Tyche’s mind was in the moment. Too flooded with fury to see straight anymore, it was miracle she was standing and more so she wasn’t as drained as she should have been.

This was the first time tapping in this part of her. Not the hate or rage, but the fate that Tyche could barely stand to admit was part of her was flesh and bone. Something she wished didn’t exist in her. a thing she would give up in a moment if she only could, now all she saw was red.

Those things were breaking loose, the threads she made already failing as they stretched beyond their normal limit slowly snapping the many threads one by one. A slight trickle of blood dripped down her nose. Wetting it along the curve like her brain was suffering, a drowning headache at back of her mind ignored only by the pounding of drums in her ear. Swimming, her mind felt like it was underwater and something wasn’t right. Wrong…Tyche knew she would pay for this but how, she could only guess since the consequences could be as chaotic as her realm. She barely heard the door as it busted open.

Ares?

“Ares…it won-“ before Tyche could get the words out, Ares had attempted to slice down a…she guessed, wraith? They remembered her of ghostly vampires truthfully as she tried to stay upright, a struggle in itself not just from them but her own self damage as well. Her bruises were easily seen along her body adding the horror of her cuts to the mayhem, telling a tale of punishment and pain.

Now he was trying something different…she only hoped it would work or she was the first one they were going to head for. It would end her.