[center][url=https://fontmeme.com/greek/][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/220820/cd766fbf1473b57f23ad0abf5bbcf1f1.png[/img][/url]
[img]https://thumbs.gfycat.com/AlertCanineAnole-size_restricted.gif[/img]
[right][sub][color=gray]Location: The Acropolis
Interactions: [color=87575c]Xochi [@Aewin][/color], [color=FF446E]Eros [@Danvers][/color], & [color=#b2617f]Comus [@KZOMBI3][/color][/color][/sub][/right][/center]
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Apollo’s after-death omelettes had led the group of deities their separate ways. Apollo had helped Phobos put Melinoe to bed, before he scurried off himself to find some peace. The events of the day had exhausted him, drained him of his good humor. He desperately needed it returned to him. His feet carried him through labyrinthine halls, until he came upon an open room, luxuriously furnished and filled with instruments of all shapes and sizes. 

A piano sat in the center, but the walls were lined with guitars and violins and trumpets, with sitars and bagpipes and banjos. There was hardly a space in the room where music could not be summoned, in all its brilliant intensity. Mortals he spoke to had often forgotten about this aspect of his being. They knew him as the God of the Sun, if they even knew him at all. It was rare that he met a classics major. Even now though, millenia after the fall, eons after he’d won the Chariot of the Sun from Helios, music was still one of his truest loves.

He sat down at the piano, releasing a deep sigh and letting the tension of the day fall off his bones. He did a good job of masking it with smiles and jests and tranquility, but he was not immune to tragedy. Not in the slightest. His slender fingers fell upon the ivory keys and [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-GUdzTshz4U&ab_channel=YANTA][color=eed873]melodies[/color][/url] began to pour forth from the piano, and as they did, he thought of Olympus, and Zagreus, and betrayals big and small. 

By nature, Apollo was not prone to worries or anxieties. It was rare that the gnawing jaws of fear clamped down upon him, but they were there now, chewing at his insides with jagged teeth. Was it war, or something else, something darker and more sinister? Two thousand years he had walked this Earth, and for two thousand years he had been free of fear. Why now, did he feel so cold?

He toyed around with the idea of calling his sister, picking her brain for information, but he suspected she would be of little use. He knew Artemis would want to keep the circle of information as controlled as possible. His father might be useful for a distraction, but he would have little in the way of information. Athena might be willing to share what she had discovered, but again, she’d probably be looking to keep her cards close to her vest. He couldn’t quite blame either of his sisters for not trusting him with secrets; he was all too prone to a loosening of lips when he drank, and he drank often. 

Instead, he kept his fingers dancing across the piano, closing his eyes and letting the notes fill the room. He felt each one burning inside him, a flame that would reduce him to ashes were it not released. He wondered if other gods could feel their own divinity as he did in this moment. He was lost in it, drunk now, on his own artistry. Shivers ran down his arms, flesh raising in response to the melodies he magicked into being.

The song he played was an endless one, not unlike his life. Everytime he approached the end he looped back to the beginning, unwilling to sacrifice the comfort the music brought him. Here, in this room, safe in his cocoon of musical notes, he allowed himself to feel the pain of the day’s events. The bodies of Zagreus and Macaria flashed in his brain, and Melinoé’s scream echoed inside his head. He could not help but feel responsible, at least in some small fashion. It was like the past had come back to haunt him, to tease him with his previous failings. Perhaps Daphne had awoken from her oaken slumber too, and would arrive soon to taunt him.

He let the music keep his mind afloat, even as it drifted off into dark, uncharted waters. He knew no other way to cope, other than to push through the pain that threatened to pull him under. He would not, could not, share these moments with anyone else. He was the Sun, after all, and he could not dim while eyes were on him.

The melancholy musings of the God of Music were interrupted by the sharp clang of metal against metal, and his hands faltered on their journey across the keys. The music ceased, and his mood soured as he stood. Someone had ruined his meditation.

He didn’t know who to expect as he made his way towards the sound of voices. So many people, mortal and immortal, came through the party home, it was difficult to predict the next guest. He knew for a fact though, that he had not been expecting Comus to be the one disturbing his peace. 

In the presence of guests, the Sun brightened. [color=eed873]“We traded two of Hades’ children for you? This seems like a scam,”[/color] Apollo said, smirking as he pulled his deeply debauched niece in for a hug. [color=eed873]“I’m assuming you have a very interesting story, one that I would like to hear after a shot or three.”[/color] His gaze traveled first to Xōchiquetzal, smiling his most charming grin, before falling on his nephew. [color=eed873]“Xochi, always a pleasure. Eros, you’re more than welcome to enjoy whatever festivities unfold, but only if you admit that I’m a better archer than you.”[/color] His smile only grew bigger as he opened a cabinet that would earn anybody else a very serious intervention. It seemed as though the Sun had risen.[/color][/indent][/indent]