[IC] 𝑫𝒆𝒔𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 {A God RP}

[Mixtape Ghost N]

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G O D O F F I R E & L I G N T N I N G
G O D O F F I R E & L I G N T N I N G

^{Seattle University}

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“Dial it down a bit, Shango. Everyone knows the last Conclave was a poor excuse to get the pantheons back together.”

Athena

A smirk formed on Shango's face as the little God who decided to become a copper told him to simmer down. Normally most of the Greeks gave Shango his space... which was evident in how the room was practically full of Greeks and other Gods and not a single one spoke. Except for her. While Shango would have normally scoffed at the thought of listening to Athena, even he had to admit that was respectable. If nothing else, Shango gave Athena a brief chuckle.

"Last one? Bet this one not going to be any different," Shango chuckled yet again. "The Morrigan should just make a country club instead of making us drop everything because she got lonely." He shrugged.

“I’m happy to see that, at least from where I'm standing, your fashion sense has improved in the last seventy years.”

Athena

He couldn't help but chuckle again.

"Thanks, you're not looking too bad yourself," Shango started before he looked her up and down, "Though, I prefer this to your blue uniform."

[Boreas]

ᴄᴀsᴀ ᴅᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ↠sᴜ ᴄᴀᴍᴘᴜs

ᴍᴏᴏᴅ: #TILFAlert

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^{ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs: @fledermaus}

Bentley never had dreams. When those monolids closed shut and she finally hit that REM, what was usually followed was nothingness. A passage of time, from dusk to dawn... or more frequently dawn to midday. But today, REM introduced her to herself.

Everything was dark, save for the gentle moonlight that illuminated a reflection of her face staring back at her. There was no wetness where her feet should have been submerged, no chill of a breeze that always surrounded bodies of water like this, and not a single thing sent ripples across her pristine face. Ben knew she was dreaming, and the recognition did little to empower her movement. Frozen in place, she was made an audience to the shifting of her reflection; it was a timeline of all the Benzatien’s she had presented to the world, starting at the beginning of the colossus.

A thousand and ten lives morphed before her eyes, an empress, a slave, a scholar, a handmaid, a traitor. She had been a war hero, a tyrant, a person glorified in history, and another erased from the books.

The final face was brief, perhaps a glimpse into the future or a passing desire of the heart, and when it quickly withered away Benten had already forgotten what it looked like.

The clouds parted, and she was back to being “Bentley Stark” and getting her daily reminder that being friends with a god of sun wasn’t always as cool as it sounded, especially if you enjoyed your late mornings.

And perhaps Prof. Mori knew best that Ben liked late mornings if sneaking in his Organic Chemistry Lab every Tuesday and Thursday halfway through the class was any indication.

Bentley fought against the warm sunlight pooling overhead, feeling the clutches of sleep slowly receding, but she dug in, rolling over to bury her in her pillows that smelled faintly like raspberries and vanilla. Well, at least she tried to, instead of falling back to sleep, she was rolling out of the daybed and right onto the hard surface of the ground. A groan signaled her displeasure and a dainty middle finger directed at the sun hidden again by the clouds was a symbol of her defeat.

Ben remained on the ground, wallowing in despair and wondering how else she could go on for precisely 1 minute and 9 seconds before the sounds of people leaving Case de… Apocalypse... Uh- whatever Broacles and Sunny D called it… encouraged her to move around too.

Apparently everyone had made like an egg and cracked—that wasn’t right.. but regardless the house was empty. The emptiness beckoned to her, to do something great for the vlog and to gift Apollo and Heracles with torment because how dare they leave her behind. But a pesky little reminder held her at bay, she didn’t have time to prank her bros and make it on time for a dramatic entrance to wow her princess. Professor Byrne was the winner of today’s inner turmoil of choice-making, if only to win over her heart and put her “yes mistress” to practical use.

Benzaiten’s imagining of grandeur and kinky roleplay carried her all the way home from Casa de Acropolis.

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Home for Bentley happened to be the Sigma Chi house, which usually was not open to prolonged stays from women but... Well, it’s a long story, best saved for a “story-time” video on her channel.

Expertly, she avoided her fellow “brothers”, not like many of them were up this early anyway and locked herself in the bathroom. Benten never took long getting ready, in this life, it wasn’t necessary and she preferred to make people comfortable around her rather than impress them.

When she squeaky clean of any sins from the night before and clothed in the first thing she grabbed she was bursting out of her room. Slapping a few man asses and offering short greetings— ”good morning sunshine” on the way to the front door and saluting her groggy looking “Big” as she slipped past it. Bentley practically skipped across campus, stretching her legs out to cover as much ground as possible with her short stature.

Running would have gotten her to the meeting room much quicker but she couldn’t afford to look a sweating mess-- at least not when the Morrigan didn’t have a hand in making her so--and ruin her entrance.

Okay so looks mattered a little bit, can’t blame a girl for trying to impress her senpai.

“You must wait no longer, my fair lady~!” Bentley smoothly slides into the room and towards the front, her dark eyes landing straight away on the god of the hour, the gather of immortals, slayer of GPAs, and conqueror of her heart, “Did you get my email about next semester?” Bentley asks as her lips graze the back of Profesor Byrne’s hand, ignoring the gods around her, “Not that I mind seeing everyone still alive and kicking, but you don’t need to throw these little meetings to see me, I’d come wherever you asked me to.”

[KZOMBI3]

ѕтяєєтѕ σf ѕєαттℓє | ѕєαттℓє υиινєяѕιту

ᴄᴏᴍᴜs & ʜᴇʟ; ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ

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After having laughed her way out of the bathroom Comus made sure to snatch a few more pieces of bacon on her way out the door, dodging a petite redhead that looked a little too peppy for even Coco's liking. She did however have her hands full and Comus is nothing if not generous. A quick, "Let me help you with those," was falling from her pale painted lips and she was grabbing one of the cups from the young woman’s grip, not at all ignorant of the pointed stares she was granted. Some mumbled words of thanks were uttered and before anything else could transpire, Comus planted a quick kiss to her cheek and she was out the front door.

The crisp autumn air bit at her exposed skin and she was kicking herself for forgoing her leather jacket back at the Acropolis, “Skatá...” the warmth in her hands doing nothing to help keep the chill from traveling up her spine, nipples hardened from the exposure.

Comus continued on her way through the streets, bobbing and weaving through the steadily growing crowds occupying the Seattle sidewalks. Mortals are too busy with their noses in the phones either catching up on the latest news and trends or conversing with late night lovers and friends alike. It didn’t matter, it was all the same. The coffee in her hands was quickly downed and just taking up space in her grasp, something to do with her hands as she strode towards the university.

Flashes of the last conclave meeting jumped to the forefront of her mind, souring her mood. How could she forget that the Morrigan, along with half a dozen other gods, threw her name into the lotteries accused of starting the last great war. _{’Gamiméno geloío’} Which must have translated quite easily to her features because she garnered more than a few uncomfortable glances her way. _{Honestly it could have just been her attire, it was a lot of older mortals who were the ones to give the odd looks...} She wasn’t alone with her thoughts for very long, having noticed a black Mercedes tail her a good two blocks ago. The vehicle slowed down and as soon as the grecian beauty spotted the driver the muscles in her body began to ease out of their tension. At least somewhat. “Heya Hel, you come here often?” Body language teasing and suggestive just as her tone, but what was anyone to expect coming from Comus? Chastity and naïveté?

“Not really.” Hel answered through the opened passenger seat window with a faint smile, ignoring the suggestive tone Coco was using entirely. Her features hadn’t changed in the last few decades. Her eyes were still sunken and sullen, yet the sapphire color in them was bright and full of life. As if she was both deadly tired and brimming with energy. She looked pale and gaunt, and had seemingly forgone make-up all together. None the less there was an icy beauty to her still. The goddess looked at Comus with a worried expression. Like a mother who had finally found her child after a long night searching. “Do you want a lift? I was told it’s cold today…” The car would’ve been as cold as well, as Hel rarely felt the freezing temperatures of Seattle during winter. It was only after she spotted the half-dressed goddess that she began to blast hot air throughout the car. Though again, she could hardly gauge how warm it was now. “…and a girl like you shouldn’t walk alone on the streets.” There wasn’t an ounce of chastisement in her voice. Only worry and kindness. On the speaker system of the car you could hear the soft, droning Norse music Hel was so fond of, and of which she had been slowly and softly singing along for the past half hour.

The dark, dry sounds of the culturally appropriate music seemed to calm the small turmoil within her as she just smiled towards the older woman, “A ride would be lovely.” With the door soon unlocked, Comus found herself climbing into the luxury car, the leather seats squeaking under her movements and she stifled a chuckle, the gang would have made an inappropriate comment at the noise alone. Like she would be any better. As soon as the seat belt clicked into place Hel pulled away from the curb and they were off down the road.

It was very unlike Comus to be silent in the presence of others, but there was just something about hitching a ride with Hel, specifically, that just felt like she was riding with her mother to school. There was a calmness in the relatively silent cab, enough to prickle the hair on the back of her neck. It just felt like she was in trouble. Like she had been caught sneaking out in the middle of the night. “So, uh, what do you think the meeting’s about this time?” Coco tried to keep her voice even, body threatening to sink into the warmth surrounding her, but she couldn’t afford to lower her guard in the company of a god from another pantheon. Even if it was Hel.

The ruler of Helheim had no such reservations. Ancient prophecies that foretold her and her kin’s doom now served as her protection. She couldn’t be present at Ragnarok if something had happened to her. And the prophecies were clear in her presence. At least at the start. Instead of guarded she felt good, happy perhaps, to help out a fellow deity. Mortals were… tough to care for at times. The dead were easier. There was more time, more patience, more space of kindness and understanding. It gave her purpose and satisfaction. Not a day went by that she did not yearn to return to her frozen realm. In that place, there was even room for silence. Comfortable, contemplating silence. Quite akin to the silence inside the car.

Which was soon broken by Comus. Hel did not blame her for it, though she was much worse at small talk than silence. “I don’t… know for sure.” The goddess of the dead admitted. Some time ago she thought she felt something happen. An unnatural shiver had traveled through her whole body. It felt like an omen of something terrible. Something grim, even though she could not pinpoint what it exactly was. Though she did not want to laden the pretty goddess with such grim thoughts. “So how are you doing… In Seattle, I mean?” She said, attempting to switch the subject, with a reassuring smile. While at the same time hoping the girl was comfortable. Was she warm?

Being asked about herself was something Comus was good at. Great even, if she were to brag. Which she did. It also helped that speaking about something that wasn’t conclave related was just what she needed to keep her mind off of the shit show that was bound to take place within the hour. Taking a steadying breath she began spewing anything and everything; it wasn’t until she paused for air that she grimaced at the thought that maybe she was talking too much. She knew enough about the goddess to know that she wasn’t one for the company of the living, at least not in the same ways that Comus was, and therefore wouldn’t really care to listen to her recalling the time that the party squad got shitfaced and tried to extra money from an ATM using Yugi-Oh cards, or the armpit smelling competitions that take place a little too often for her liking.

“Sorry…” she muttered under her breath turning to look out the car window, head in her hands. The comfort of the car’s warmth was well appreciated and she made sure to mention it to the goddess before another small silence engulfed them. But silence begets thinking. And in this instance it is not something that Comus desires, so she once again breaks into the space between them, words tumbling from her mouth as she slowly turns her attention back to the blonde woman, “So, umm, what about you? How’s Seattle been for you? I mean, you must be doin’ well to be driving this baby around on a daily!” Affectionately running her fingers over the stitching of the seat beneath her a reminder that not all the gods were on equal footing here amongst the mortals. A bittersweet thought.

The next few minutes were quiet again. Hel was about to tell Comus she could keep talking if she wanted, when the Greek goddess turned the tables on her. One thing Hel genuinely just sucked at was talking about herself. What was happening in her life? Same old really. Talking with the dead. Tending to the cemetery. Dissecting bloody corpses. Cooking, a little bit. Now that she started thinking about it, those were the same things she did before in Washington. Before that only the dissections were new. And before that… nothing changed. She came to earth and just started working in graveyards. Waiting for the inevitable to happen while simultaneously trying to keep her mind off it. “I… guess not much had changed.” She admitted, rather absentmindedly. “Just same old routine.” No sleep. Only work. Hel couldn’t remember the last time she had slept. It must’ve been early spring...her eyes grew a little heavy. Realizing how long it’s been. Was she tired? What even was tired? Maybe tired was her normal now? Could she know?

Tires shrieked, horns were honked, lights flashed. Hel’s eyes went wide open. Realizing at the pivotal second that she was about to slam into the car coming from the other side. She swerved, dodging the car. Turning sideways. G-force threw her against her own door. Momentum threw the Mercedes towards the parked cars on the side of the road. Incomprehensible computer systems took over. Making sure all four screeching tires remained on the ground. The steering wheel was flung the other way as Hel slammed and pulled every break there was in the car. It stopped, standing straight on the road again. It all happened in less than six seconds. The car she had nearly rammed passed her showing something obscene. She hadn’t seen it though. She was still shocked, wide eyed and breathing heavily behind the wheel.

An elated shout had escaped her lightly painted lips as soon as Comus could feel the jolting of the vehicle beneath her, as if she were in the first cart of a roller coaster, and she had just hit the tippy-top and the drop was soon to follow. Along with her shrieks of joy and merriment Comus threw her arms into the air, or at least as high as she could given the cramped confinement of the cab. With the car back in it’s forward facing position, both goddesses staring straight ahead, clothing ruffled, hair tousled, Comus could feel the shock coming off in waves from the woman beside her. “What a rush,” she squealed brushing her tresses from her face and turning to look to the driver, ”Hey, you alright? You look like death warmed over…” a small chuckle passing through her at the senseless joke.

It took a second before Hel had processed everything. Including what Comus had just said. She blinked three times before she shook herself up from the daze. “Yeah… yeah I’m alright. I’m…- I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to get you in danger.” Slowly she started the engine again and continued driving. Wide awake now. When they were on a straight bit of the road she turned to look at Coco. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head? Not feeling dizzy? Not feeling nauseous? Tell me if something’s wrong.” Guilt washed over Hel, which was quickly turned into overly motherly worry which she projected towards the young-looking goddess. She kept up the barrage of questions, asking about every specific body part and if ached, felt warm, felt numb, broken, bruised, stiff. Pondering on whether or not she should just turn around and head for the ER. Perhaps luckily for the both of them the college where the conclave was to be held was looming in the distance.

“Whoa, whoa!” Comus turned in her seat so she could face her, “I’m OK. Seriously. If anything I’m feeling more like myself because of it!” She didn’t need to elaborate, she hoped, for the other goddess to catch her meaning, though she was honestly a little more than grateful for the near death experience. It energized her. Refreshed her, similar to the ragers she and the others throw and partake in. Makes her live like she did in the old days, when she was free for the most part to cause chaos as she saw fit because she was bored and it was something fun to do. Something that that cup of coffee from this morning could never hope to hold a candle to.

As the adrenaline coursed through her veins she was vaguely aware of the motherly tones and concern being shown to her. Something that she wouldn’t forget. It was something not even her own mother would have shown her - let alone her father. _{’No… gotta remember that he’s trying… not like he knew...’} Her heart thumping, skin prickled with goosebumps not associated with the chill of the outside air and her nerves buzzing she reached forward and grabbed Hel’s hand with both of her own and gave her a reassuring squeeze, “Thank you.” was the only thing she could coherently utter that would convey her sentiment to her. She hoped at least, spotting the university’s parking lot come into view.

“Are you sure?” Hel pressed at first. Though then she realized to whom she was talking to. The rebel. The living embodiment of excitement. What just happened… Yeah. It made sense. In a weird way. “Okay. Okay.” Hel repeated, reassuring herself as much as she tried to reassure Comus. She tried to take deep breaths to calm herself down a little. To little avail really. The guilt didn’t want to go away. Not until Coco took her hand. Hel nearly jolted from the touch. But then she relaxed. Her nerves calmed down as the girl thanked her. With conjured up a small smile on Hel’s face. Somewhat at ease she pulled up into the university’s parking lot and found a spot to squeeze the car into a parking spot.

When the two goddesses got out, it instantly drew the attention of everyone in sight. A big black car. Two hotties, one clearly older than the other. One dressed… provocatively. It raised questions. Hel didn’t care. “Oh wait!” She quickly said as Comus got up. She opened the car’s back door and pulled out a long, thick, high-class wool coat. It probably didn’t look as edgy or rebellious as the leather jacket Comus no doubt wore. Nonetheless Hel threw it over the car at Coco. “To keep you warm to the door and well… in case you decide to take a walk after this is done.” She said with a small smile. Ready to let the goddess of parties go. Surely she wouldn’t want to walk into the Conclave next to Hel. At least not if she wanted to keep up a reputation. Hel wasn’t sure if she did. Still, few people chose to be near her for very long. It was normal. She cared for them. Nurtured them if possible. And then she let them go.

Looking down at the coat gripped in her clutches, the soft yet coarse fur brushing under the tips of her fingers, Comus couldn't help the swell in her chest. The warmth of the fabric she slipped over the sheer mesh she wore, was little compared to the pure concern radiating off of the older blonde. That alone made Comus’ heart soften ever so slightly, as she nodded and bundled herself a little deeper into the coat tossing a “I’ll catch you inside,” over her shoulder before she began her trek towards the meeting.

It didn’t take her nearly as long as she thought it would have, to find the room where the Morrigan had decided to set up shop this go around. Upon entering the room Comus could feel the heat pouring off of her body, the heater must have been kicked into overdrive, that coupled with the amount of other bodies in the room made for a very, very warm Coco. She removed Hel’s coat, making a mental note to return it to her when she walked in. It was sure to raise some brows. For now, she preoccupied herself with stealing a few sour gummies from Hermes before sitting towards the back of the room, feet propped up on the table in front of her, legs crossed at the ankles.

Hel watched Comus go for a bit, until she turned around to lean against the car. From her pocket she pulled a cigarette and lit it. Billowing out that first puff of smoke. She didn’t particularly like smoking. Nor did she love it. It was just something to do when you wanted to be alone but not appear that way. In the past century smoldering tobacco had become a loyal companion. It just allowed you to wait, in silence. When, after a slow burn, the cigarette was burned up she put it away. Ready to be thrown out in a bin, not on the ground. People who did that disgusted Hel. With that, enough time should’ve passed to appear as if she and Coco had come in separately. To her own surprise, still quite a few heads turned to look at her. Probably assuming she was some hot guest speaker. It didn’t take long before she found the room to which The Morrigan had called them. Probably thanks to the fanfarious way others had entered, Hel could slip in almost unseen. Quietly making her way to her spot.

As soon as Comus caught sight of the goddess who was generous enough to pick her up earlier that morning she jumped up from her lounging position in the back of the room and made a beeline towards where Hel had sat down, coat in hand. “Hey,” she called out to the woman, a small smile on her lips, free arm waving erratically. As erratically as one could in a room slowly filling up. In no time at all she was besides her intended target, shifting the coat between arms, choosing to instead hold it out to her, “Thanks again, for well, everything this morning. It was a shit ton more fun than me just wandering around the city. Next time you wanna crash a car, lemme know, ‘k?” Coco couldn’t keep the laugh from bubbling up, a small indication that the adrenaline from earlier was still present.

For a second Comus startled the goddess. She didn’t expect to be approached right now. Perhaps only by her father? Not by the young goddess though. “Oh…” She said, completely surprised by the kindness of Coco. Though it made her smile a little bit as well. Quite embarrassed she looked down at the carpet as Comus mentioned the near-car crash. “I will.” She joked, before looking up to face Coco. “And if you ever need a lift, just call me.” Hel took the coat, but then wrapped her arms around Coco to give her a deep, close hug. Sadly, Hel was not known for her warm hugs. The embrace of the dead had a chilling effect. No matter how much her heart wanted to give hugs that were comfortable and pleasant, they’d always be frigid. Numbing, when they have to. But not always. Realizing that, she quickly released Comus again. “I’m sorry. I-I should take my place. Take care Comus.” With that said she gave her a small kiss on the cheek and passed her by to find her seat.

The feeling of Hel’s abrupt embrace was something that she didn’t expect, as cold and chilling as it was, causing the eruption of gooseflesh to coat her skin, there was something about it that picked at the back of her mind. It wasn’t like the embrace of a lover, nor really and truly that of a friend. Something a little deeper. If she weren’t mistaken - which wasn’t often - OK yes all the time it was vaguely reminiscent of what a familial embrace should feel like. Comus had felt herself melting into the feeling, enjoying it a little too much. However, she didn’t get to enjoy it for too long, before she knew it Hel was pulling away and placing a quick peck to her cheek and moving away. Comus was operating on autopilot as she turned and began heading back to her previous seat, and just sit back, munch down on the danish she snatched up, that great uncle Zeus was so gracious to provide, and wait for the shit show to begin.

_{collab with @Legion02}

[Akayaofthemoon]

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YASMIN

_{THE UNIVERSITY, SEATTLE}

_{Mood: At least it isn’t all bad}

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If anyone entered, Hathor hadn’t noticed and tried her best to tune out the noise of those that had already gathered. It wasn’t that the gods and goddesses were bad to be around, heck, sometimes their antics were enjoyable to watch but this was just not her day. She could hardly keep herself from bouncing or tapping her foot in irritation, the lack of sleep and memories from the past making frustration rise at the situation of the Conclave and disappointment to flood her that more horrible news was just on the horizon. Nothing good ever came from these group get togethers after all so she wasn’t going to put hope into wishing differently. She would much rather be at home right now doing stars forbid anything else other than this.

She felt the vibration of an incoming text message beneath her fingertips but chose to ignore it for the time being, knowing she could answer it later or that the person would probably understand. After all, most of the people that even possessed her phone number were people that would either be arriving soon or humans that knew she should be sleeping right now. Instead, she let her attention be pulled into some random mind numbing game on her phone to keep her entertained until people she was more familiar with made an appearance. She didn’t know how much time had passed while she lazily swiped and clicked her phone but it all grounded to a halt when she heard a feminine voice speaking to her. Hathor’s muscles tensed, her hard gaze sliding slowly away from her phone only for her eyes to land upon Bastet.

She felt herself relax, the almost glare she had recently been sporting lightening up, her appearance resembling more of a defeated look as a weak smile pulled at her lips at her sister’s question. ”Is it that obvious?”, she sighed, tucking her phone away and trying to relax. She could tell that she must be more on edge than she realized since Bastet seemed careful in her approach. It wasn’t fair to take her bad mood out on anyone else even though she desperately wanted to snap at someone or do something to get rid of these negative emotions. She took a deep breath, smiling a little more normal as she decided to try and stir the conversation elsewhere than her plaguing nightmares.”How have you been? How are the three precious furbabies?”, she asked, honestly wanting to know how her sister's life was going.

Her dark eyes drew their attention away from the woman next to her as Zeus entered, announcing to the group that he had brought danishes for everyone. She didn’t really know him personally but she had definitely heard stories, some may or may not involving goats but that wasn’t even close to the other treatments of his many...many children. It made it hard to want to really jump into knowing the Greek God. He was apparently trying to make it right but even then, she was skeptical. However, the danishes were doing wonders on getting on her good side for the morning since her stomach was protesting at the lack of breakfast, coffee only taking her so far. She debated on snagging one once the box was set down. Not all danishes were good but anything had to be better than nothing and if her name was already in the pot then might as well snag one. Hathor was dreaming of what kind she could weasel out of the box when someone literally came barreling in. One could even say it was a flawless entrance as the man had at least ended up on his feet by the end of his tuck and roll.

Hathor felt herself bite back a chuckle, a bright grin lighting up her face as she leaned down to grab her thermos, taking a sip of coffee. At least having her sister here and a few small positives to make her smile had helped her feel a little more like herself. As she set it back down in its place, she heard a good morning which drew her attention to the speakers knees before slowly dragging her eyes up, pausing for a moment to admire a fine set of abs before tilting her head to look at a pair of blue eyes and a bright smile that was a bit on the goofy side but it just worked. She sat back up, raising a brow at the overused pick up lines or at least one she had heard plenty at the club. It still made her smile as she replied,”I don’t but maybe you can change my mind.”

---

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Speaks With: Bastet @Rockette,Heracles @metanoia
Mentioned: Zeus @beetlemoth

[Eidolon]

_{ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ɴʏᴍ'ꜱ ʙᴀʀ & ɢʀɪʟʟ » ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ}

ᴍᴏᴏᴅ: ᴡᴇᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ɢʀᴇᴀꜱʏ? ʜɪɢʜʟʏ ɴᴇʀᴠᴏᴜꜱ

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<sup>𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑖 𝑠𝑎𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑒𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑟𝑚
𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒—
𝑠𝑢𝑛 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑡ℎ
𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑠

𝑑𝑜 𝑖 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒?
———————</sup>

^{———————}
"'Ey! Cabrón" Poseidon blinked. Once. Twice.

He looked around with foggy intent before his eyes settled on the dirty apron'd man calling to him over the divider between kitchen and diner. Clinking and clattering hit his ears next, then the small din of quiet conversation and laughter. Poseidon tilted his head, then widened his eyes as he moved toward the swinging doors.

"Why'd you got your dick in your hands, dude?" the chef who'd called him asked.

"Sorry, Danny, I just fell out of it for a moment," Poseidon responded. He scratched at the back of his head and gave a cough. His shift was just about over, yet he still had two orders to slide to the row of two chefs blazing seafood and dunking fries into hot oil. "Oh, how's the studies going, by the way?" Poseidon asked with a pull to his lips.

"What're you my dad?" Danny scoffed, head pulling back with a cringe.

"Ha, you wish he was your papi," a young woman piped up, slapping her coworker's ass with the back of her spatula.

"Please, put that in the—" Poseidon started and she shut him up with a purse of her lips and withering look. The spatula clattered as it fell into the sink. He began walking toward the back, untying his server's apron while he popped the crick in his neck. A light laugh escaped Poseidon's lips as he listened to the bickering behind him.

"Why the hell would you say that, just because..." Danny quickly divulged a deluge of stammering Spanish while his coworker tossed him more ingredients.

"Oooh, duro! Papi Peter!!!"

"Shut the fuck up, the customers are gonna hear you."

Poseidon shook his head, sliding into the back room to hang his apron and unbutton his shirt slightly. When the door swung shut everything drowned out to the quiet buzz of the A/C. He let his back hit the cool brick wall and tilted his head up. How could losing all that godhood suddenly make bones creak and muscles ache more over a long, hard day at work? Even centuries later, Poseidon still didn't understand why mortals would allow turmoil to rule their lives so readily.

Yet, he grinned. Perhaps it wasn't the turmoil that ruled their lives, but the chase of those moment to moment drips of glee. That seemed more optimistic, no doubt.

Gods, was that smell him? Poseidon lifted his arm to press his shirt to his nose. Deep-fried fish with a hint of milk and lots of grease. He cut it close already with his shift today, though. If he went back home for a shower and a nap he'd miss the Conclave entirely.

Poseidon's lips turned up into a contemplating frown. Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad — nope. No. No, no.

Push through it you fucking pansy. Poseidon thought hard, eyes squeezed shut and fist clenched. Every part of him tensed and revolted.

He shrugged as much of it off as he could, grabbed his phone and keys from his small locker and barged out of the back room. Danny tossed a look over his shoulder, eyeing the bag and cup on the counter nearest to Poseidon. With a nod of his head, the old god swiped the bag of food and milkshake.

"Don't give the boss too much blood to mop up tonight," Poseidon said. He tossed the two a salute as he hurried out of the diner.

---

---

Well, maybe the smell of overpriced fish food and a grease stained button up was just what he needed to come back from the dead with. That's what he told himself constantly on his drive over. And he was starting to believe it until he saw a few students give him a weird look when he passed them by. It was likely because he stepped too close to them and they wondered where exactly that smell was coming from.

Poseidon paused near a lamppost to pinch the bridge of his noise. Once he stepped foot in that conference room with a back of what was likely a fucking disgustingly smelly fish sandwich and a raspberry milkshake there was absolutely no coming back. Which was exactly why he plopped himself down on a bench and devoured his lunch, while ignoring what he assumed to be a volley of pitiful looks from professors and teachers alike. Deep down he knew no one gave even a modicum of a shit about a random stranger eating on a campus bench, but the shame still washed over him.

Every deep chew as Poseidon leaned back, head pointed upwards, throttled his reality further and further into his mind. Decades. Centuries. Millennia gone into hiding. The shadows that hung over him whispered the many lives he lived and lost to the spinning wheel of time. Poseidon had died a long, long time ago in the waters of Istanbul, shriveled up into what was left of Peter Samaras' hand.

It ached. It burned until the beverage dropped onto the bench seat next to him. Poseidon clenched his teeth as it stiffened.

From park bench to full stride, Poseidon weaved through his surroundings until they blurred into a background. The back of his head pricked like needles that road down his spine. With every heaving breath that pulsed his chest, Poseidon fell into a dark corner of the campus where he could press his forehead to the concrete wall.

Beyond the myriad thoughts that plagued his mind, there laid a door he left closed many years ago. All he had to do was step through it. Yet, what would they think of an Olympian falling prey to mortal ailments. They'd question his mental fortitude and wonder at the monumental fuck up that laid bare Poseidon's glory. Where the purpling thunderheads would rain down terror through the endless, colossal waves that speared the Grecian rock face and brought navies to their knees, the racing thought of showing his face again after spending years a ghost forgotten would seize the ocean's spirit and break panic through his mind.

He was making a big deal out of nothing again. Poseidon thudded his head against the wall. Where the was his milkshake again? Oh, in his hand. Ah, it was half spilled.

"Hey dude," a voice called from behind him, "You, uh... you lookin' to score?"

Poseidon's lips straightened and turned to push past the dumbass. He spared the man no remark. He gets his shit at the dispensaries, anyways. And if he was trying to sell him some kind of hardcore drug, he'd gladly pass. He'd leave that kind of coke induced partying to his wayward brother.

---

---

It took a solid thirty minutes of wandering before Poseidon found the conference room. He didn't need a map, but he did need a few fingers pointing him in the right direction. Looking around the hall, he puckered his lips slightly. Everything was slightly dusty or grimy with either overuse or under-use. Poseidon couldn't pinpoint it exactly. Still, at least the dress code he'd imparted upon himself matched the location. Apparently so did his smell. He still cringed at his appearance.

It took another five minutes just outside the doorway for Poseidon to psych himself up enough to enter. But first, he had to pace for another few minutes. He clenched the milkshake in his hand still, forgetting the stickiness of his fingers as he gripped it just slightly tighter. He took a long draw until the rattling slurp drew him out of his thoughts again.

"Hey urp... mmnnnn—" Poseidon announced himself, bursting through the doorway with an arm wide in greeting. Yet he stopped himself, burping slightly as something came up his gullet. His face paled quicker than the lights flickered over head and suddenly he'd turned to bend over and upchuck his fish sandwich on a pair of likely extremely expensive shoes.

"Are those genuine Armani?" was the only thing that came to mind when he looked up to stare directly into Zeus' eyes.

^@beetlemoth

[KZOMBI3]

𝐓 𝐋 𝐀 𝐙 𝐎 𝐋 𝐓 𝐄 𝐎 𝐓 𝐋

_{ᴊᴀᴅᴇ ᴊᴀɢᴜᴀʀ » ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛʏ}

ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss ᴀs ᴜsᴜᴀʟ

---

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Business the night before the Conclave meeting was booming. Patrons from all walks of life were lined up along the walls, standing room only, by the time the clock struck eleven. It was truly a sight to behold, one that made the hairs on the back of Tlazolteotl's neck stand up in excitement. She could practically smell the bills as they fell to the fiberglass platform her girls danced on. Hear the snapping of their G strings back in place, securing their tips to their bodies. It was a shame that her favorite male god wasn't present, he would have brought in even more clientele. Tlazolteotl just sighed, _{'What a shame...'} Though, to say that the Goddess of Lust was without entertainment of her own wouldn't be entirely true, especially as she eyed the long haired dock worker that just strolled into her club. All muscle and flowing dark locks. It would be a shame to not enjoy his physique on a more, personal level. Not like it hadn't happened before... something for later then.

As the hours dragged on she was pleased to find that the Jaguar hadn't lost it's capacity. The girls pulling their clients to the back as the rooms freed up. There were the few instances where she had to go and forcibly remove patrons from the rooms, a word of warning passing her lips, eyes almost aglow under the saturated lights. A sight for sure seeing as they would agree to just about anything under the current circumstances. With a final warning and nod to her employees she was back to pacing the floor. Dodging and weaving between tables, making small talk with the customers, VIP clients and girls alike. No one was too insignificant for the Goddess to turn and aid. What kind of higher being would she be if she were to abandon her devoted followers patrons in their time of sinful need?

Though the club was meant for eyes to be trained on the spread of supple flesh on display prancing around in their uniforms, or up on the stage, dancing in practiced choreographed steps to their song of choice, it wasn't like eyes didn't wander across the ebony skin of the beautiful bartender in the back. Tlazolteotl would be lying if she said that her own eyes didn't wander back towards her friend every now and again in throughout the woman's shifts. So it isn't uncommon for those same wayfaring gazes to hone in on the owner of the establishment from time to time as well. Tlazolteotl thrived under the scrutiny she gained from her patrons under those low lights. The way her body swayed as she moved, all muscle and tone, curves in all the right places, as if she were a jaguar cursed to walk among mortals. She couldn't contain the grin plastered on her face as she thought about it more, _{'How close to the truth they would be...'}

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The progression of the night ended at closing with Tlazolteotl pulling the god of storms into one of the private booths off of the main room, foregoing the tug of the curtain down in place to obscure them. It's not like they were going to need it. Aching body twist and turned beneath the loose sheet that was haphazardly thrown over the frames taking up the leather couch in the Red Room. There was a comfortable weight resting across her bare midsection, a type of warmth that provided a sense of comfort, regardless of the thin and flimsy linen bunched around their waists. In the midst of her groggy, in between state of restlessness, she could almost smell him, the scent of fresh rain in autumn, the kind with a crisp kinda chill to it, the smell of a warm blanket straight from the dryer, a hint of bite from an old, shelved bottle of liquor. It all came crashing down around her as she turned in his grasp to see the long dark tresses of the storm god and not the wisping rays of sun made flesh.

With a groan and a smack to her face, the filth goddess quickly got up from the makeshift bed, spitting Nahuatl curses in whispered breaths before walking bare as day she was borne into this mortal body of hers pulling her clothes from the night before off the floor and back onto her body. Checking her watch, after securing it to her wrist, she took note that there wasn't enough time to get a proper shower and change of clothes before the conclave was to start. "Ugh, this'll have to do..." and without another word she pushed past the draped velvet curtains and made a straight shot for the bar.

Not even ten minutes later and she was brandishing a quick cup of coffee, heavy on the whiskey and cream, and starting on her way back to the red room and kick Raijin awake if she needed to. They were going to be late if they were to fuck around any longer. Not that it wasn't appealing, but there was a certain someone she was looking forward to seeing a little more than pleasing her current suitor. Her gait increased at the sound of something, or rather someone, hitting the ground with a clatter.

When she rounded the corner she was graced with the ass end of a very, very naked man and she could do nothing but lean against the frame, mugs in hand as her eyes scanned the sculptured body she had the pleasure of sampling the night before. His muscles flexed, satin bedding scattered beneath him, as he pulled himself up off the ground rubbing his face, a grin - or what could count as one - plastered on his face as he uttered an endearing nickname her way, reaching out to take one of the mugs off of her. "Hey yourself. C'mon, get dressed. We'll head to the university together." With that she left him to his drink and to dress as she went to the backroom and touched up her makeup. No sense in looking completely sexed up while walking into the conclave. She had to laugh at herself in the mirror, _{'Not like they won't know.'}

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Arriving to the conclave in time was something of a miracle, what with the incessant teasing going on between the two of them along the way there. However, as disheveled as they were, her more-so than him it seemed, and the stench of liqour and sex clinging to the fibers of their person, they walked through the doors of the room rented out specifically to house the gods for this dog and pony show. It was all just a way to throw blame onto one another in the event that something horrendous took place, of gods forbid they take the credit of something great. _{'We'd never hear the end of it,'} she was thrown back to a time when the Greeks took credit for all things, positive and negative. This was likely to be the same situation.

And just as she predicted, as soon as the two of them walked through those doors, one right after the other, they were under the gaze of a few, scrutinizing them - for the better part of knowing their dalliances or not, Tlazolteotl couldn't care less. She was not one to shy away from the spotlight. However, it was one god's thoughts and input she craved the most. If nothing else than to get him riled up and a tad bit jealous. A long shot, yes, but worth a shot regardless. As she walked through the room she took note that she was seated next to her late night confidante. Subtly be damned as she sent Hathor a thumbs up, which she's almost positive resulted in an eye roll from the goddess; Tlazolteotl was sure to get an earful in the near future. For now, she was content in glancing back over towards the Herald of the gods, desperately hoping that she had at least made some sort of impression on him. The same way he did all those years ago...

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

interactions @BeastofDestiny | mentions @Danvers @Akayaofthemoon

[Boreas]

A N U B I S

_{Courthouse ⇀ Seattle University}

Mood: tiredt of this shit.

---

interactions:@Gothelk@Akayaofthemoon@Rockette mentions: @beetlemoth@metanoia

“The motion to reduce the bail for Mr. Andre Lawerence has been rejected, we will convene back here to continue this case bright and early on Monday. This is day five, Mr. Isam, let’s not drag this on much longer, alright?” The judge didn’t await an answer, in fact he didn’t expect one, at least not one he’d get the chance of hearing. His position in the world afforded him a certain immunity to tongue lashing that'd otherwise be directed at him.

Instead, the wood of the table splintered under the pressure of the fingertips that pressed into its surface. That jaw clenched so tight not even the boiling of rage bubbles past Mr. Islam’s lips. Those dark, enigmatic eyes of his stoned cold like the pieces of the Sphinx. His back held higher than the pyramids of his home despite the weight of life that hung from his shoulders.

For a time he stood there, remaining behind as the room cleared out. The density of sin trickled out as a tune of feet burdened by heavy hearts shuffling along the immaculate carpet. The thought made Anubis smirk, but only that was brief and his straight back slacked under the weight of what felt like the world. What faced him in the next room over was a creation of a cycle the god of the dead had vehemently come to hate. A single fist of his was enough to break through many doors, drywall, crack into some stones, but alone it was not strong enough yet to break through the foundations of the system that dared to run him ragged. Ragged was acceptable if victory followed, no... when victory followed.

Anubis exited the room and entered another. He’d be exiting and entering a lot of those today, but rarely by choice of his own. Duty often trumped his desires… desires, Anubis didn't have time to fantasize, even in his mind, he couldn’t make proper time for her.

“I just had a baby man. My girl needs me! I can’t afford that bail and I sure as hell can't afford to get locked up for something I didn’t do! I’m not a killer dog, I might have had a hand in selling some stuff when I was in a tight spot but I’ve been doing good, we been doing good. You believe me right?”

Anubis could see into the hearts of man, and die to their simple nature he rarely needed to look. Hearts blackened and rotting with sin were common among mortals. When he looked into Andre for the third time, despite not needing to, he saw an imperfect man but not one with a black heart. The deep pools of obsidian looked up to the chocolate brown that peered back at him, Anubis knew that look, someone trying and failing to decipher him. Many arose to the challenge but none had become a victor, if being impassive was an Olympic sport Egypt would have a monopoly on those gold medals.

“I wouldn’t represent you if I doubted your innocence. I am charitable but I am not a saint, Andre. Going forward things will be harder, but I need you to stay diligent. You may not be able to return home yet but the sun will rise again on the day you get to kiss your partner and child.”

” You might talk weird but I know you got my back. Honestly, I’m glad it’s a dude that looks like me defending me in there, I guess I’ll see you Monday then.”

“Monday it is, try to take care Andre.”

---

With a new found fire fueling his footfalls the click-clack of confidence carried him from the courthouse to the conclave.

There were many other places Anubis would have rather found himself than at a private university and among strangers and foes. Only a few in attendance he’d dare call a friend and even then only two remained in his heart as pillars he could lean on in a time of need. Another dazzled in his mind, like the sun reflecting off the Nile, maybe it was her certain attendance today, or the frustration he felt for the judge, but no willing was strong enough to quell his yearning this time.

Anubis tried to swallow it down as he entered the halls of the prestigious school, but his attempt only carried his feet faster through the tiled halls. Even if for a moment he could sit in the warmth of her embrace and see the world through her golden eyes, maybe he’d be braver yet to take on the systems of oppression by himself. Often he believed in the kind of man he saw in her eyes, even if he was reminded of the one he wasn’t, the one he couldn’t be for her, he’d pledge to make the necessary sacrifices a millennium ago… and only in the twilight of fevered skin, swollen lips, and shouts of ecstasy did he ever regret that promise.

The smell of something deeply unpleasant pulled him from his train of thoughts. Anubis couldn’t contain his face and allowed his lip to curl in disgust as he hid his nose from the offense, of course, it was the Greeks. There was disdain in his obsidian pools, switching from the unfamiliar face of the “upchucker” and the familiar one of the “King of Fools”.

"Perhaps seeking cleaning tools is a better solution than inquiring about the authenticity of material goods?” Anubis’ deep tone was laced with annoyance and he turned on his heel to do just as he suggested.

When he returned with a janitor in tow, the room had grown more occupied, and yet his eyes gaze was saved for a sole person. Poised yet relax, regal yet approachable, she was a dream he couldn’t escape and a wish he could not obtain, and though a wise man would have strayed away from her, he found himself taking up the role of the fool.

“Good morning Hathor…” Anubis’ tone was pleasant enough, his eyes meeting with the goddess for a moment before he took a seat next to Bastet,”Malikati, good morning to you as well, it’s been quite some time since we last saw each other. I hope you have been well.”

Anubis paid no mind to the Grecian standing in front of his fellow Egyptians, his body turned away from him and towards Bastet who his eyes gently settled on.

[fledermaus]

𝕃 𝕆 𝕂 𝕀

_{ᴛᴏᴅᴅ'ꜱ ᴍᴏᴍ'ꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ ⇀ ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛy}

MOOD: ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

---

interactions:@Gothelk@Icy Hot@Legion02

Basements are inherently dastardly. Nothing good ever came from the bowels of a basement; so, Loki makes it a habit of conducting business in luxurious hotels and fancy rooftops – things befitting a rich underground bookie who makes millions off of gambling addicts. Then, the damn police came sniffing around his base of operations, and his little meeting was changed from the coziest conference room in all of Seattle to fuckin’ Todd’s mother’s basement. It is supremely low class of him.

“This is supremely low class of me.” Loki repeats for his minions to hear, legs crossed imperiously on his camping chair with expensive brandy in expensive glass sitting in the cupholder. His minions – Todd and the new guy – stutter, unsure if they should agree or refute his opinion. “Christ, you act as if I’ll hit you. C’mon, guys, it’s me! The Leo-ster! You don’t have to act so formal around me.”

Loki stood up and did a turn in his casual black silk button up and black slacks, as if to show that he’s one of them. Of course, he isn’t. He’s an immortal, a fuckin’ god to these ants, but fear never was the way. Loki carefully lowers himself back down into the precarious folding chair, winking mischievously at his underlings as their shoulders relax.

“Now, status report!” Loki says cheerfully, careful to not disturb the casual atmosphere he created. “Did you do what I asked of you?”

“Yeah!” The new guy (Carl?) exclaims, excited to prove his worth, before sitting back and clearing his throat. In a more macho voice, he continues, “I have a feeling Rotger won’t be walking anytime soon.”

Loki’s eyes widen comically, and he leans forward, “What? You broke his legs? What kind of operation do you think I’m running here? I’m not a damn gangster!”

“O-oh, well T-Todd said that –” the newbie stumbled over his words, cowering slightly while playing with the ends of his shirt.

Loki couldn’t contain it any longer, he falls backwards and bursts into laughter. “I’m just kidding man, nice work. Fuckin’ Rotger, hope the little bastard’s kneecaps heal slowly.”

“O-Oh.” Slowly Todd and the new guy start chuckling too, nervously and hesitant.

A ringing echoes in the dingy basement, disrupting the unease like a knife on a chopping board in a horror film – that is, to say, it didn’t disrupt it at all, but rather made it worse. Loki looked down at his phone and jumped onto his feet, “Well, I have an appointment. Good job with Rotger, guys. Knew I could count on you!”

Loki whistled a jaunty tune as he leapt up the stairs, twisting his hips this way and that to the sound of a beat no one else heard.

______________________________________________________________________________

It didn’t take long for Loki to find the conference room after exiting his nice, sleek black car. He just had to follow the scent of Greek desperation and Celtic ire. It also helped that the door was left slightly ajar either from tweedledum’s somersault into the room or that nobody’s projectile vomit relay race. Loki smiled to himself at the chaos around him and took off his sunglasses.

“Nice aim, dude.” Loki cackled, patting the man that stunk of fish on the back as he passed him by.

Anubis passed Loki by to bring back materials to mop up the mess. “Hey, Assface.” Loki greeted, moving away from the straight-laced man before he could respond.

Normally, Loki would find the time to antagonize every human being in the room, but he was more preoccupied with making a beeline straight for his daughter. Like an angel, Loki spread his arms wide and beckoned Hel in for a hug, “Oh my lovely daughter, what a sight for sore eyes! Give daddy a hug!”

[baraquiel]

---

APHRODITE

_{APHRODITE'S APARTMENT → SEATTLE UNIVERSITY}

mood: beautiful and loving it

---

It was quite a hectic day. A lovely apartment with a beautiful view of the city of Seattle got turned into a temporary make-up and styling station. People wearing full black outfits were busy making sure one particular woman will be much prettier on that specific day. Well, they didn't have to do much actually because the woman they were busy with was already gorgeous herself. The woman in question was none other than the goddess of love Aphrodite who had changed her name throughout the years. Currently, she was Helen Beauregard, a sex therapist and a marriage counselor as well.

That day, Helen was very busy chilling as her whole glam team made sure she would look even more stunning for the Conclave which her team thought was just an ordinary business meeting. She thought about the gods and goddesses she was going to meet there; she's also sure she's going to see new faces as some of them didn't attend the Conclave way back. Helen really hoped she could see her son, she's been texting him and hitting his number up but got no reply per usual. She sighed sadly and began to have doubts about coming to the meeting.

"Now, now. Don't frown, dear. A frowning face can't bring out the beauty that you are." Danny, Helen's most-trusted make-up artist said, said when he noticed she was frowning more.

Helen snapped out of her trance and looked at Danny's reflection in the mirror. "You're right. Thanks, Danny. You're always there for me." She said to him with a wistful smile. Even when her make-up's halfway done, she's still prettier than all the models in the magazines yet she felt very hollow whenever she remembered the pain and hardship Eros had to go through. She could only hope he was doing okay on his end, wherever he may be.

Danny smiled sweetly at him and patted her shoulder. "Whatever it is you're worried about, it will pass. Nothing lasts forever, after all." He reassured her before instructing the others to go get her dress ready. Helen smiled and was now at ease as her secretary gave her the set of pearl earrings she ordered from the latest runway in Paris.

As her glam team put the finishing touches on her while she looked at the mirror, Helen couldn't help but let out a smile that figuratively lit up the room and boosted everyone's moods. No matter what happened, every day was still a great day to look gorgeous. "Thank you all so much for your wonderful efforts, my dears. All of you will be generously rewarded for your hard work. Now, I believe it's showtime."

---

Students and professors alike were gawking in awe as Helen got out of her sleek, black car while assisted by her driver. Her light pink couture dress fitted against her curves perfectly, her blonde wavy hair framed her light brown-grey eyes very nicely, and her expensive high-fashion heels and pearl earrings made the overall look of the outfit even better. They couldn't even tell if she was wearing make-up or she just woke up like this.

"Thank you, my dear. I'll call you later when the meeting's over." Helen said to the driver as he was giving her one of her Birkin bag at which he nodded and drove to the parking area.

She gave the onlookers a flirty smile and wave as she made her way to the conference room. Her heels clicked against the tiled floor as she looked around while walking. The Morrigan could've picked a better choice for a meeting, perhaps a high-end restaurant or a cozy cafe where they could drink mocha lattes while talking but she supposed this will do. She couldn't help but wonder what the meeting was all about but she was certain all the gods wouldn't meet up if it weren't so serious.

Helen opened the door of the conference room and gave the present gods there a very sweet smile. "Bonjour, everyone!". Her nose was instantly assaulted by a foul stench as she saw a janitor cleaning up a pile of vomit. She rolled her eyes and gave her fellow gods a teasing smile. "Really guys? We all haven't seen each other in a while and the first thing one of you did was puke? Tsk tsk, how naughty." She said with a giggle as she approached them, the aroma of her expensive perfume slowly wafting throughout the room.

"My oh my, all of you are so handsome and beautiful! It really is a pleasure meeting you all again." Helen sweetly and genuinely said with a curtsy. She noticed Eros wasn't in the room yet she could see Hera and Ares at her peripheral vision whom she chose to ignore for now. She's going to try to act as professional as long as she could before this whole thing blew over. She could already tell the room was filled with tension due to the long history between each of the gods and their experiences of living in the same city together. She was already bracing herself for the storm of drama and chaos that will eventually come.

[beetlemoth]

---

XOLOTL

_{𝙱𝙴𝙰𝚄𝙵𝙾𝚁𝚃 & 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙴𝚁 𝙻𝙻𝙿 » 𝚇𝙾𝙻𝙾𝚃𝙻'𝚂 𝙰𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃𝙼𝙴𝙽𝚃 » 𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚈}

𝙷𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝚃𝙰𝚁

---

For Xolotl, a new case meant late nights at the office, mountains of paperwork and falling back into old habits.

So far, he’s got all three checked.

There’s a stack of financial records from the auditor he has to look through by Friday. He’s already on his sixth (or was it seventh?) cigarette. And a cursory glance at the clock tells him that it’s a quarter past two.

Sighing, he leans back in his chair, eyes squeezed shut, and raises a hand to pinch at the bridge of his nose. All around him, blue tendrils of nicotine-tainted smoke dance through the air, curling around his hair like dragon’s breath. Good thing there aren’t any smoke detectors in here, Xolotl muses.

The last thing he needs are the sprinklers turning on and drenching all these documents.

He’d actually quit smoking a few centuries ago, way back during the Industrial Revolution when tobacco actually tasted like tobacco. Nowadays, it was all filler, smoke without the buzz. Anyone with the barest scrap of discernment would know that modern cigarettes were nothing compared to a good, hand-rolled cigar from Cabañas.

Still, you get used to it. Hell, if there’s one thing Xolotl has learned over his many, many years of existence, it’s that you can get used to anything, even the bitter tang of tar, anise and menthol. Besides, he kind of liked having something to do with his hands, and smoking was a great excuse for lulls in conversation.

Right now, however, he’s doing it because he needed to, the whole ritual of lighting up and smoking a cigarette, drawing the fumes deep into his lungs —– it calmed him. He isn’t nervous or apprehensive, though, just… concerned. Xolotl has always prided himself on his resourcefulness, on his ability to turn any situation to his advantage. That’s what made him so good at his job, and why his clients were willing to dig deep in their pockets for him to represent them in court.

Rumor was you could never get Salvador Ochoa to sweat because he was always three steps ahead of everyone else in the room.

But even the most consummate professional could be caught off-guard.

When Xolotl opens his eyes again, he’s staring at a cream-colored envelope on his desk. He’d opened it earlier, breaking through the wax seal with a letter opener, but even before he read through what was within, he already had an inkling as to what its contents entailed.

Crushing the remains of his cigarette into an ashtray, he picks up the letter again, drags a nail along the crease where it had been folded. The paper feels rough between his fingers, heavy, but beneath it all, there’s something else.

Something magic.

Weak as it may be, he could still feel it fizzling away under the surface. Every deity left behind their own magical signature, and the Morrigan was no different. Hers felt like… electricity and ozone. The scent of petrichor after a rainstorm. If the seal on the envelope hadn’t been enough of a giveaway — a crow with its wings spread and talons outstretched — Xolotl could have guessed who the sender was without even looking.

And when you received a message from the Morrigan, there was usually only one reason.

He just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.

Quietly, he slides the letter back into its envelope and tucks it inside his jacket, casting another look at the clock —– 2:21 A.M. Everyone else had already gone home for the day, and Xolotl was the only one left in the office. That’s how it was, most days. After the final stragglers clocked out around midnight, the whole place would be left to him alone. He doesn’t mind staying late, though. It gives him a little extra time to hone in on specifics, iron out the details, and he likes the quiet.

He stands up then, walking over to the floor-length window that separated his office from the city outside. The streets below are empty, bathed in the orange glow of sodium street lamps. Occasionally, a car will zip by, and Xolotl will stare at it until it disappears into the distance. This high up, they look like toys —– small and utterly insignificant.

…Fuck it.

He could put off preparing for the case for a day or two, but if he had to listen to god-knows-who arguing about god-knows-what at eleven in the morning, he’s going to need a little more than two hours of sleep. And so, trying to ignore the already-growing headache behind his eyes, Xolotl turns back to his desk to click his computer shut, slips a fresh cigarette between his teeth, and prepares for the long drive home.

---

He’s up bright and early the next day —– or the same day, technically, but he doesn’t see the point in being pedantic about such things.

There’s a sense of unease in the air as Xolotl goes through his morning routine. This was the first Conclave they’ve had in, what, eighty-one years? And he can’t stop thinking about what could possibly be important enough to warrant them all coming together again.

(Part of him wonders if it all couldn’t be summarized in an email instead. He’s not exactly looking forward to dealing with the Greeks. Mostly because more often than not, they were the ones causing the problems that everyone else needed to solve. It’s sort of become routine at this point, cleaning up after their messes, and frankly, he’s getting a little tired of it.)

But Xolotl knows as well as anyone that there’s no sense in delaying the inevitable, and so decides to take one last look at himself in the mirror before heading out. He’s wearing one of his cheaper suits, an Alexander McQueen knockoff he’d just gotten back from the dry cleaner’s. It’s charcoal black, cut in a way that’s elegant yet discreet —– just the way he likes it.

Satisfied, he turns to leave, though not before slipping an unopened pack of menthols into his pocket.

The drive to the university is uneventful, filled only with the purr of an engine and the occasional click-click-click of his turn signal. Once he actually gets there, it doesn’t take him long to find the conference room the Morrigan had been talking about in her letter; and already, there seemed to be some sort of commotion going on inside.

Business as usual then.

…The smell of vomit is new, though.

It’s the first thing Xolotl notices when he steps inside, though he doesn’t give the perpetrator more than a brief, withering glance before moving towards the two most familiar faces in the room.

“Tlazōlteōtl. Xōchipilli.” He greets each of them with a nod, and settles down into the seat he’d been assigned. It’s cheap, plastic, and exceedingly uncomfortable. Xolotl supposes it’s a fitting metaphor for their current situation.

“So,” he begins, reverting to his native tongue of Nahuatl, trying in vain to find a position that doesn’t make him feel like he’s strapped to a medieval torture device. He’s hoping Xōchipilli and Tlazōlteōtl might be able to provide some much-needed distraction. “I take it didn’t miss anything important?”

_{@Mao Mao@KZOMBI3}

---

ZEUS

_{𝚂𝙴𝙰𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝚄𝙽𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚈}

𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙾𝙵 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙶𝙾𝙳𝚂

---

Things were actually going… well?

In fact, things were going so well that Zeus had almost forgotten exactly why his family was such a mess in the first place. He was just happy to see everyone back together again —– Apollo, Athena, Persephone, Comus… Even Ares and Heracles. Hermes, on the other hand, seemed intent on stealing his thunder with a secret stash of gummy worms, but he was in a good enough mood to let it slide.

If he had known baked goods were such a hit with gods and goddesses alike, he would’ve done this sooner.

So yeah, he was pretty damned pleased with himself. For once, he wasn’t going to fuck things up. For once, he would prove to everyone that Zeus, King of the Gods, was not a narcissistic maniac with coping mechanisms more toxic than the ruins of Chernobyl, but actually a pretty okay guy you could totally be friends with.

…Seriously, though. He should’ve known better than anyone than to have such unwavering confidence in himself. Back in his day, such behavior was called hubris, and would earn anyone a swift smack in the face from Nemesis herself.

So it only made sense that the second Zeus started feeling good about himself, started thinking that “hey, maybe this won’t be so bad”, everything began to fall apart.

The first sign of things going south was the arrival of Hera. Technically, she hadn’t done anything but show up, but the look she shot him as she walked in was enough to make whatever words he’d wanted to say die in his throat.

Ex-wife jitters. Classic. He’ll give her some space. She’s clearly not in the mood to talk to him right now.

The second sign was when a man smelling of grease and fish food all but careened into the room, and Zeus noticed that he was looking — pardon the pun — a little green in the gills. But he didn’t have much time to wonder just who the hell this guy was before he started blowing chunks all over his very expensive shoes.

The noise that escapes him then is more of a gasp than a whimper, and it takes a few more moments after that for the man’s question to register.

“They’re Tom Ford, actually.”

Somehow, in that single, horrifying moment, that’s all Zeus can bring himself to say.

Gods, he’s gonna be sick.

No, wait. Throwing up here is a terrible, terrible idea.

Hold it together, asshole. Don’t you dare lose your shit now.

When he starts to lift his foot, the carpet makes sort of a… wet squelching noise that nearly sends him retching again. But through sheer willpower, he manages to swallow it down, and with two trembling fingers, slides off his newly-ruined shoes.

Now what the hell was he supposed to do with these? Throw them out?

But they looked so good on him…

In the end, after what seemed like an eternity of internal deliberation and weighing out the pros and cons, he just dumps the shoes into the lonely, little trash can sitting in the corner of the room. Sure, his shoe guy might’ve been able to scrub them clean, but deep down, Zeus knew that they would never be the same again.

Rest in peace, shoes.

It’s kind of amazing, isn’t it? Just how fast things can change. A minute ago, he felt like he was on top of the world —– everyone was loving his danishes, nobody was trying to kill each other, and he still had two shoes on his feet.

Now, he’s just standing there, shoeless, toes wiggling in his socks.

What a fucking nightmare.

He’s not even mad, really. Or maybe he is, and his brain was just trying to deal with the shock of it all before moving on to anger. A betting man would put his money on the latter, because if this happened back during Zeus’ heyday, he would’ve already turned whoever was responsible into a pile of electrified ash.

Still, he was trying to change, trying to be less like the murderous tyrant he used to be. And to be fair, he’s sort of distracted trying to figure out exactly who this greasy, pukey man was to really get angry.

That fish smell is familiar, though. And the voice. And the general air of melancholia that hung over him like a funeral shroud.

Where exactly did he remember him from? Gods, it’s just gonna keep gnawing away at him, isn’t it?

He had to find out.

“Hey, uh, don’t worry about the shoes, alright? I think we’ve all had days like these.” He tries for a chuckle, hopes to Cronus it doesn’t sound too much like acting, and reaches out to place a hand on the man’s shoulder, giving it a consoling pat.

“It’s just… You don’t look so good right now. Maybe you should sit down somewhere. And we can talk. About stuff.”

_@gothelk

[Sugar and Spite]

---

【Ｈｅｃａｔｅ】

_{Casa de Witchy --> Seattle University}

"Where's the fucking chandelier?"

---

The thing about the Conclaves was that there was always an unmentioned competition for the best dressed. Of course there would be talk of official business, drama, and the kids getting smothered by their absentee parents. (Hecate couldn't relate. She loved her children and grandchildren dearly and made it a point to be as involved in their lives as possible). Regardless of what we going to or not going to happen at the Conclave, she wasn't about to show up looking like trash. Tessa planned on winning the non-existent trophy, and that was exactly why she chose the dress that she did.

After doing her makeup in a natural look and styling her hair just right, Tessa was ready to head to the University. Ordering an Uber, Tessa arrived a few minutes late per usual. Good things came to those who waited, and the gods were about to be blessed with absolute perfection. Pushing the doors open, the bright smile on the woman's face would quickly disappear.

At first glance, the conference wasn't that bad, but if one dared looked twice --

Forcing herself to remain calm so that she wouldn't shiver in disgust, Tessa grimaced at the coffee stains in the carpet just in time for Poseidon to throw up all over Zeus's shoes. Lips curled in disgust, Tess made her way over to where the danishes were sitting before promptly grabbing one from the box.

"That's incredibly disgusting," she said looking from Poseidon to Zeus, and back again. "Shame about the shoes. They were so nice... And to think you had a sense of fashion for just a second. What a shame."

As her facial expression switched to that of a pout, Tessa turned her attention to The Morrigan. "No chandelier this year?"

[Mao Mao]

---

XŌCHIPILLI

_{SEATTLE UNIVERSITY, SEATTLE}

THE FLOWER PRINCE

---

Even though Xōchipilli was on his phone, he was still paying close attention to the door. For example, he made sure to wave back at Kore after she waved at him. But other than that time, he didn't interact with everyone else other than a glance. There was Zeus with some danishes, but all that did was made Xōchipilli cringed at his attempt. Then, Hera arrived, and her brief words to everyone was enough to make him roll his eyes. Suddenly, his phone notified him of a text message for one of the workers at the club.

hey. something's wrong with the booth again.

Oh great, Xōchipilli thought to himself while typing up a response.

Are you sure it isn't just the laptop?

Another text soon appeared a few seconds later.

i don't know. matt's taking a look at it. will keep you updated.

Xōchipilli took a moment to make a mental note about the booth. The next thing he noticed was his brother finally showing up. And then, he started to speak in their native tongue of Nahuatl, which caught Xōchipilli off guard. It had been a while since he last heard the language in person. He mainly talked in English and Spanish to act as human as possible. It took a few seconds before he was able to remember some words in Nahuatl.

"Yeah, you didn't miss anything. Other than whatever the Greeks did. I wasn't paying attention to them honestly." Xōchipilli chucked and then noticed his sister was sitting nearby. "Oh, hey there. How's the business doing?"

---

^{interactions | @beetlemoth, @KZOMBI3}

[Boreas]

Sleepy Gods

_{Seattle University ⇀ Flower Field}

Mood: dis tew cute.

---

interactions: A @Danvers x @Gothelk x@Icy Hot collab mentions: @KZOMBI3

The room was quickly filling up with bodies. Kore felt embarrassed by how little she interacted outside of her normal sphere. Each god entering after her was a strange face, a pair of gods with palpable tension sat near the Morrigan and Korea Immediately felt bad for the goddess. Then came a face that brightened the spring goddess up, “Good morning, Ms. Parvati!” an enthusiastic wave echoed the warmth she exuded from her smile. The sleepy baritones of one of her dearest friends pulled her gaze away and she was quickly latching on to him.

“Hi Hypie” she cooed nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder, “I missed youuu~” She pulled back only slightly to check the image on his phone, the effect of his aura turning her bright smile into a cute sleepy grin, “Oh my gosh, they’re so precious! They look so happy and healthy, seee I told you! You have a green thumb, now what do you think about getting a hanging plant? I have the sweetest boy for sale that needs a good home and… I’ll give you a discount.” Kore caught herself in her rambling a slight hue tinting her cheeks as she clasped her hands around his.

Having another plant to care for outside of his poppies had Hypnos biting his lip, but the look on Kore’s face could break steel. Sliding his phone off, he let a hand rest against the table before he leaned forward again. His eyes looked up in contemplation, then fell back to Kore. ”I… I dunno, Kore,” he admitted, ”Well… well, maybe I could try it out. But! If it looks anywhere near distress you take it, okay? I’d be crushed if I killed one of your babies.”

Hypnos turned a look up at Kore while squeezing her hand. His lips pressed into a pout and his always hooded eyes lifted just slightly. A yawn took him as he spoke again, ”And no discount. I wanna pay in full ‘cause you’re my friend.”

Kore pursed her lips for a moment, pretending to contemplate his counteroffer but eventually, it crumbled away into an eager nod of her head, “Yeah, of course! The string of Pearls is really hard to kill like you’d have to try and you almost cried when you killed that spider on accident last week in my bathroom.” Kore teased playfully toward Hypnos’ growing pout and let her eyes linger around the room, which had gotten noticeably fuller since she had arrived. A wave caught her eye and a twinkle of affection appeared in her honey brown pools as she returned Artemis’ greeting with the same enthusiasm she afforded Parvati earlier.

“People are actually getting here one time…” The empty seat beside her caught a glance before it bounced to the door as another person entered, not who she wanted to see but the offer of pastries only made her sit back in her chair with a cute pout, “Well some people are anyways…”

A frown caught Hypnos lips while his eyes followed Kore’s own. ”Hey, spiders deserve to be mourned over,” he said, though his frown turned into a lazy grin at Kore’s exasperation, ”Do you want a danish or are you pouting for another reason, Sweet Kor-n?” He gave a light poke to her side.

“I’m not pout-“”You need a nap? Maybe to pass the time quicker for a certain someone?” Hypnos teased, though he took a quick look around in slight fear of another certain, more moody someone.

“Hey Kor Kor! Hey Hippo!”

Kore’s planned grumbling at Hypnos’ teasing turned into a surprised squeak as she jumped at the sudden greeting, “Oh lillies--Hermes!” her voice was a playful whine as she swatted a light hand at his shoulder, that slid easily along his biceps and lingered on his forearm not yet pulling away, “I thought you were going to be late again, but instead here you are scaring me half to death!” the whining was lightened by the cheeky grin she offered him.

At the mention of gummy worms, she raised an eyebrow, “Hmm... I suppose this can go towards your pardon…” Kore leaned close to him, and then even closer, but instead of the kiss it looked like she was going for she slipped a sour gummy between her plump lips and sat back happily savoring the candy, “Mm I actually quite enjoy these! How was the party last night?”

All the while Hypnos quietly slid a few gummies into his own hand. He stared at the two for a second, head still laid upon the table. He’d nearly choked on the gummy he slid into his mouth at Kore’s tease and promptly turned to cough away. ”Y-yeah, Herm, how was that party?” he looked back, eyes slightly teary.

The gaze of the trickster god had been darting across Kore's delicate features, a small, barely perceptible frown pulling at the edges of his lips when she moved her body away from his own. “Mm, the what?” Distracted by thoughts of gummy worms and lips, Hermes was slow to acknowledge the question posed to him. “Oh, it was great! Well, what I can remember of it. You guys should be super jealous though...I got an up-close showing of Hercs bare ass this morning.”

Laughing at the memory, he mimicked Kores actions from earlier, moving to lessen the gap between them. Perhaps he should be more aware of the others but his attention was easily diverted, barely noticing when a certain underdressed someone stole several of his gummies. “Would’ve been more fun if you’d been there though.” A mischievous smile lit up his face, whilst a hand reached up to playfully poke her nose.

Kore’s nose wrinkled at Hermes’ touch and she was able to imagine a million and one circumstances that had Herc baring his glutes (fortunately not one that put his extra appendage near foul waters). “Yeah, yeah, I bet you say that to all the ladies in your life.” Kore teased her voice not reflecting the spark of envy that flashed in her. Her wandering gaze did little to hide what was currently on her mind as her sparkling eyes kept stealing glances at his softly parted lips.

”Only the ones I really like.” Hermes quipped back, before momentarily managing to tear his gaze away from hers. “You too sleeping beauty.” He shifted his body slightly so he could see the primordial god as he spoke, offering him a small wink. Hermes knew full well that Hypnos tried to avoid their shenanigans but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try to persuade him otherwise.

”You know these gummy worms are REALLY tasty, huh?” Hypnos could not be blamed for anything that occurred between the two, but he sure as hell knew Demeter would still have his ass for it. And therefore the sleepy god ignored Hermes’ coy wink and proceeded to grab his chair by the bottom and insert himself between the two. He yawned loud, mouth gaping as he planted himself in the middle, half of his body already splayed against the table.

”So, like, what would you two say to a… nap?” he gave a lazy smile to both Kore and then Hermes when he asked.

“Hypnos, The Morrigan is going to be extra mean to you since you messed up her seating chart.” Kore grumbled a frown tugging at the corners of her lips. Even though she issued the “threat” she knew it would fall flat and instead resorted to declaring, “A danish sounds better than a nap” and stood up to go snag one.

”Nothing’s better than a good nap,” Hypnos pouted back.

“Dude…” It was Hermes’ turn to pout as he reached to move the bag of gummy worms away from his friend, his eyes widening in the infamous look that usually got him his way. “I don’t wanna sleep. I’m not tired.” He stubbornly retorted as he watched Kore stand up, his blue eyes lingering on her form whilst she walked away.

Having a complete inability to sulk for longer than a few seconds, a broad smile suddenly spread across his face. It was one that was usually accompanied by either a dangerously stupid or a stupidly dangerous idea. “You look so comfy there Hyp…” Standing up, he edged over to Hypnos, before planting himself firmly in his lap. “Let’s share!” He shifted about a little until he was comfy, happily smiling down at his new chair companion.

While the implication of someone sitting on his lap unnerved Hypnos at first, a sleepy smirk replaced his pout near instantly. ”I’ve been told that many times, Hermy Worm,” Hypnos replied, wrapping his arms around the trickster god’s midriff. He placed his head against Hermes’ side and stared up at him. ”So, what was your plan again?” Hypnos yawned, letting his own powers take hold of himself, ”Still don’t wanna nap with me?” he wiggled in his seat, squirming and pressing closer to Hermes, ”Just a few minutes, pleeeease?” Perhaps Hypnos’ softness beguiled a more sinister nature? Though, if Hypnos thought long and hard he’d just conclude that he really liked his sleep and saving his own ass from potentially raging parents and long lost spouses.

Their bodies being so close, Hermes couldn’t help but cup his hand to his mouth to stifle a yawn, his eyelids beginning to droop sleepily. The warmth coming off his fellow god was comforting, like being wrapped in a duvet at the end of a busy day. He found himself snuggling closer to his chest, for a moment wanting to let it take him. Maybe just a minute or two would be okay... “You’re such a naughty hippopotamus…” He mumbled almost imperceptibly, his body ready to collapse into sleep.

Hypnos wiggled his eyebrow for the coup de grace, ”Would you really say no to a nap ‘n cuddle with me and Kore? Hmmm?”

“With Kor Kor? Maybe just for a little bit then…” About to give in, his attention was suddenly diverted by the presence of a very familiar figure walking through the doors. Tlaz’s appearance revealed all and Hermes couldn’t help but let out a small, sleepy giggle. Bringing two fingers to his mouth, he attempted (and only half succeeded) to do a wolf-whistle, the playful giddiness for a moment breaking through the drowsiness. “Looking goo-…” Mid-tease, Hermes suddenly fell dead asleep, unable to resist the pull any longer. His head flopped to rest against Hyps shoulder, his sentiments towards his friend having to be saved for another moment.

“Guys these danishes are so del- heeey~!” Kore returned to a sight that immediately melted her soul and before Hermes woke up or Hypnos caught on to what she was doing she brandished her phone and stole a couple of pictures. Hermes and Hypnos all cuddled up was obviously top tier in the “home screen pic” game… maybe she could sell the pictures to the shippers?

“Hypie how can I be mad at you when you’re so dang cute?” Kore stuck her tongue out playfully and ruffled his hair with affection. The short touch drew a small yawn out of her as she slipped down onto the seat and leaned forward with her head resting on her arms on the table, “I’m sorry I said danishes are better than naps… that danish was really yummy but naps are better, especially naps with my favorites flowers, little poppy prince and the dashing daisy…” Kore’s voice trailed off into a quiet mumble as her eyes fluttered shut and she fell into a field of flowers.

[fledermaus]

𝔸 𝕄 𝕄 𝕀 𝕋

_{ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴇ ⇀ ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛy}

MOOD: ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ᴇᴠᴇʀyᴛʜɪɴɢ.

---

interactions:@Icy Hot@Akayaofthemoon@Rockette

The heated battle of court is the only thing keeping Ammit’s eyes wide and awake. The night before was spent nervously cooking meals upon meals upon meals, anxiety only borne from conclaves gnawing at her like she gnawed on hearts. Work was easy, though, a rhythm that her fingers fell into with a tap, tap, tap.One would think the repetitiveness would have her falling into dreamland, but dissecting the loud yelling of the prosecutor and the low timbre of Anubis.

“The motion to reduce the bail for Mr. Andre Lawerence has been rejected, we will convene back here to continue this case bright and early on Monday. This is day five, Mr. Isam, let’s not drag this on much longer, alright?” The judge intoned and Ammit hurried to type it down so she could get out of there as quickly as possible. The Conclave was starting soon, too.

From across the courtroom Ammit could see the broad planes of Anubis’s back clothed in one of his nice suits. Eons of knowing him led Ammit to understanding him almost like the back of her palm – she could see the frustration emanating from him like drawn radio waves in a comic book. Her first instinct was to go to him, smooth his suit down and tell him his favorite words of hers (“I’ll feast well, tonight”). Then she remembered – he’s not her fuckin’ boss anymore.

“Hmph! I’m my own boss!” She harrumphed to herself, gathering her things together.

“No, you’re not.” The Judge muttered as he passed behind her, not even looking up from the paper in his hands. Ammit clamped down her first reaction to give him a not-so-kind gesture.

Whatever, she has a Conclave to go to anyways.

______________________________________________________________________________

Her shitty car didn’t have a name, because shitty cars don’t deserve names – and she tells her car that every time she drives it, angrily thumping at the steering wheel when it makes a weird sound. She refuses to get it fixed, whatever is wrong with it; no way in hell is she going to spend money on such a piece of junk. At the thought of it, Ammit rolls down her window and spits, hoping part of her saliva hit the car to remind it that it is beneath her. Sometimes it forgets.

Because of the reasons outlined above, Ammit drives her car slowly and carefully on the road. An important thing to note when she spots Anubis’s car zigzagging through traffic while hers chugs along like a slug on fire. Ammit scowls to herself, smacking the radio in between the seats to change the station – violence is the only way to get any of the buttons in her car to work. In a way, this car was meant for her.

It was a slow drive to the Conclave, frustrating and anxiety riddled. She parked her car messily, going over all sorts of lines, and caring very little for it. She dares someone to hit her car. Ammit may not eat hearts anymore, but that doesn’t mean she won’t stab them. (An over exaggeration, of course, but said with the confidence that if she were charged, Anubis would work for her for free).

The room was easy to find, and she didn’t so much as push the door as she did kick it wide open. She didn’t do it for the dramatic entrance, but rather to get the last bit of anger out of her after she saw Anubis’s car in the parking lot. He was there before her. It might not have been a race, officially, but damn did Ammit hate losing. Ammit entered the room and ignored everyone around her, beelining for the Egyptians since they were all already congregated together.

“Hey Bastet, Hathor.” Ammit said in greeting, choosing to slouch in a chair near Hathor, and added belatedly, “…Boob.”

Ammit glared at Anubis, daring him to challenge her nickname for him in front of their pantheon.

[sly13]

---

Hades

_{Hades Mansion, SEATTLE}

GOD OF The Dead

---

Hades let out a low sigh as he looked up from his book towards the clock that hung overhead. “I suppose I really can't put it off anymore can I?” he said in a slightly saddened tone while looking over to his left at his faithful companion as if looking for an answer. When the dog merely tilted his head Hades responded “The conclave is today. And I better leave now or I'll be late.” At the reference to the conclave the dog began growling in a low tone. “I know Spot, but I have to go. Keep up appearances and all.” moving to his large walk-in closet Hades began looking through his various suits contemplating which one he wanted for the conclave. Even out of sight of Spot, Hades still continued his conversation with the dog without missing a beat. “I can't imagine what we are meeting for this time. There hasn't been anything large enough to warrant us all having to gather.”

Stepping out of the closet hades had basically stuck with the same outfit as before simply opting to wear a vest instead of a full suit. “What do you think? No need to go all out anyway right?” receiving a reassuring bark bark from the Rottweiler Hades nodded satisfied with himself. “That's why I always ask you.” making his way to his garage Hades turned back towards his dog who appeared to be under the impression he would also be attending. “No sorry bud you're not going this year. No, don't give me those eyes you know full well what will happen if I bring you.” he finished giving Spot a knowing look. “Besides you need to stay and guard the house ok. Good boy.” and with that Hades walked out the front door of the house.

It had taken a minute to find the specified room for the conclave. The drive there had been rather uneventful apart from his constant wondering of how this gathering would go. Titans knew the greek pantheon had enough drama on their own, throw in the others and things were bound to go bad. He just hoped he would be able to be there and promptly be able to leave with little hassle. His main concern was his brother Zeus and whatever antics he had instore for today. Or worse would be if today would be the day the Romans finally showed themselves at one of these damn things.

Having finally found the room Hades immediately regretted arriving at the time he did. Of all the gods to be arriving at the same time was Zeus and Hera, and by the looks of it, Athena had arrived not long before them. “Well this should go swell.” he thought to himself as he braced for the storm before moving to enter the room. Once Hades entered the room however he was meat with a hilarious, at least to him, but disgusting seen. It may have been wrong but a part of him could help but find joy in the mighty Zeus the victim of some strange man's vomit. “Well that is dreadful isn't it,” he said looking down at the now ruined shoes of Zeus before continuing to the chairs. Finding a chair with no one sitting around it Hades took a seat with the oddest nagging feeling. He couldn't place it but something about the man at the door seemed off.

[fledermaus]

𝔗 𝔥 𝔢 𝔐 𝔬 𝔯 𝔯 𝔦 𝔤 𝔞 𝔫

_{ꜱᴇᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱɪᴛy}

MOOD: ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ ᴄʜᴀʀᴛꜱ!

---

The Morrigan is a precise woman. When she sent her emails, penned her letters, ordered her crows, she did so with the message that it was The Conclave – with a capital ‘C’. Capitalization to signify the importance of the Conclaves and why attendance was dire. Yet, still, the gods bumble into the room like toddlers with their ‘why, why, why’s. Part of her wants to scream ‘why? Because I said so!’, but then she would have to deal with at least two gods calling her ‘mom’.

First it was Mot, sweeping into the room with his disinterest and disdain, demanding answers from her like she was his to serve. Politely, she told him to wait, as there were more to come. Politeness went out the window when it was asked a second time, by Shango, and she answered with clipped tones and forced smiles (“Not everyone is here yet, please take a seat where your name is.”) And her seating chart! Her seating chart, thrown out the window by everyone and their damn mother! Do they not know how much of her prints she used up for those name slips?

By the time the danishes arrived, a headache had already formed in her temple like a steady beat of a drum. No, with Zeus in the room, it became a sledgehammer on soft clay. She pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes to the gods, breathing in and out with the whirr of the air conditioning. The din of the room faded behind the kaleidoscopic swirls of her eyelids and she lost herself in her breathing. When she opened her eyes again, she was calm – not collected, noticeably, but decidedly less likely to rip another god’s head off with her bare hands.

With a new distance from the chaos of the room, the Morrigan watched the pantheons behind a veil of disinterest and cold observance. It seemed that a lot of them were under the impression she liked these Conclaves, that she enjoyed bringing them together for dick measuring contests when all she wants is answers. When all she wants is to return to her place in the universe. The Morrigan glared at an empty seat, noticing the absence of the Roman gods with a prick of annoyance. Of course, they wouldn’t show, even when one of them RSVP’d. Well, Mars might show eventually, to report back to his brother-in-arms.

“You must wait no longer, my fair lady~!” The thin veil between her and chaos snapped, torn down by the hands of Benzaiten (no, she goes by Bentley now). “Did you get my email about next semester? Not that I mind seeing everyone still alive and kicking, but you don’t need to throw these little meetings to see me, I’d come wherever you asked me to.”

The Morrigan cleared her throat, belatedly noticing that Benzai – Bentley had taken her hand to kiss. A little bit of heat stuck to her hands where her lips once were, and the Morrigan snatched her hand away quickly to clasp in her other hand. She forced a smile, polite but distant, “Ah, I haven’t had a chance to check my email, what with planning the Conclave. It is about to start, I think I see a seat with your name over there that you can – fuck it, just sit wherever you want, everyone else is.”

Last time she makes a damn seating chart. She, once again, wonders why she bothers as she twists away from Bentley to take a drink of water from her water bottle. When she turns around again, there’s vomit on the floor and the room stinks of upchucked fish and artificial raspberry. The Morrigan runs her hands over her face and glares at the empty seats once more. Fuck the Romans, fuck the Greeks – hell, fuck everyone for ruining her seating chart. Who does that? Their names are clearly on their seats! It doesn’t get much simpler than that!

“Poseidon.” She says instead, fingers gripping the podium she stands behind as she smiles at the long-thought dead god (except she knew, always had known). “I’m glad to see you made it. Please take a seat…wherever. Thank you, Anubis, for getting the janitor.”

She waited until the mortal janitor left before talking about their very discrete matter. “Everyone please settle down, I have something important to say.”

No one heard her, caught up in their own conversations, and she thinks she even spies three of the Greeks napping. Do they really think she called a Conclave for them to dally? Does no one understand the risk they are taking, letting the Colossus sit in the unknown?

Hephaestus’s mysterious death in Seattle meant more than a simple mourning. It meant they were killable – by something other than distance from the Colossus. It meant that they were immortal, but not invincible like they originally thought. They don’t have her power, they don’t see the threads of fate twisting before her eyes, and they didn’t see the clean snip of Hephaestus’s string. It wasn’t his fate to die – someone manipulated fate to kill him, cut the threads themselves, and it wasn’t just wrong, it was impossible.

“Please, everyone just – ” and still they continued, Hades even managed to slink in during the chaos. She couldn’t take this anymore! She is so tired of being the responsible god, the god that calls the Conclaves, that covers for them when they slip on their secret – tired of being the damn janitor!

“Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”
  “Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”

[smarty0114]

---

HERA

_{SEATTLE UNIVERSITY}

righteously pissed off, spiraling fast

---

“Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”

The Morrigan’s words were met with a stunned silence, a silence that was broken by an unearthly wail, a cry of unholy pain. Hera’s mouth gaped and she clutched her chest, gasping for air as the sentence echoed through her mind.

She heard the words, but couldn’t comprehend them. Her baby? Dead? The boy who’d risen to all her challenges, the boy who’d proved her wrong? He had survived a fall from Mount Olympus, he’d survived the Colossus, how could this be true? And what about her? What would she do? What was a mother who couldn’t protect her children?

She could feel their eyes on her, watching her every move, taunting her. One of them did this, but the others relished in her pain. Their laughs were silent but they still rang out clear in her ears, spurring her towards anger. She would not be laughed at while her son lay dead, she would not let some cowardly murderer embarrass her.

“Which one of you?! Which one of you did this?!” Hera stood up, knocking her chair back as she did. In mere seconds she had become a raging storm, thundering with an anger that only a mother knows. Her eyes landed on Apollo, and accusations began to fly. “Was it you? You and that bitch sister? Do you think I don’t remember Niobe?”

Apollo stood, silent, a mask of shock on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Hercules, hiding behind the Egyptian whores. Her fury shifted targets. She pointed at him, and continued her verbal onslaught. “Or you? Did you help him? I know you’re not smart enough to do it on your own!”

Hera was certain that nothing would quench the fire that had begun to consume her. Her child was dead, a child she’d born herself. She’d failed him. She’d failed him all his life, and now, she’d failed him for a final time. These flames were the price she’d pay.

“You’re awfully quiet husband,” Hera said, spinning on her heel to look at Zeus, still stinking of Poseidon’s vomit. The poise that she’d exhibited upon her entrance had fully gone. She was unhinged, jetting from target to target, running down a long list of potential foes. Each time a prime suspect entered her thoughts, another jumped to take his place. “Maybe you put them up to it? They’ve always been your favorite sons, haven’t they? My son is dead, one of your own is dead and you’re sitting there wiping vomit off your shoes. Stand up, mighty king, and explain your cowardice to the audience,” she spat her words, disdain dripping from every syllable. Grief weaved a nonsensical web of conspiracy in her mind, contorting every face into a jeering mask. If Zeus wanted to take her up on her offer, Hera’s moment of insanity prevented him.

“Stand up and claim your crime, murderer. I promise, I’ll treat you with the mercy you showed my son.”

[DELETED jdl3932]

---

---

~ M O T ~

---

---

Mot blinked, stroking his chin languidly as he took in the news. So Hephaestus was dead? How curious. In truth the Canaanite god of death couldn't exactly muster up much of a need to care about the passing itself, they'd barely even interacted after all, even with all the years in which to do so. Yet the fact the demise had even happened in the first place still came as a surprise. Hell, he hadn't been aware any of their number could die. Never took the time to find out.

He was the one who brought death after all, not the other way around.

Sighing, Mot glanced over at Ba'al as he mulled over Morrigan's words, though he didn't linger on him for too long. Out of all the beings here, and all the bad blood between them, his brother was the least likely in his mind to be the culprit. Distance and a lack of extensive mingling with the other gods made sure of that. So, moving on from his estranged kin, Mot cast his gaze around the rest of the room, the gears in his mind churning with each face passed, those belonging to the other gods of death especially.

He knew his own hands were clean, but could the same be said of theirs?

Flinching, Mot let out a small growl as the silence of the room was abruptly broken. Looking up, his eyes found Hera, who was currently casting blame upon the other Greeks gathered at the table. It would have been amusing honestly, had it not been so damn annoying, not to mention pointless as all her outburst did was further complicate things. No doubt stirring up centuries worth of hidden resentments with each word spat, and bringing the entire meeting closer to the precipice of utter chaos. Clearly something had to be done. Some order restored, if only so he could get out of this with his sanity intact.

"Not to interrupt..." Mot began, clearing his throat. "But perhaps we should try for a more tactful approach?"

[AlteredTundra]

---

A T H E N A

_{UNIVERSITY OF SEATTLE}

Goddess of Wisdom and War

---

As always, Athena always enjoyed Shango's company. His Pantheon might've not been as represented at this year's Conclave, but his personality more than made up for it and she might even say he brought a certain light to her grim world. Of course, she was never one to ever admit that to him nor anyone else. Still, maybe if he developed mind-reading abilities, he might know this.

"I thank Olympus I graduated from that, but--" Time was stripped away from her as soon as The Morrigan declared a bit of order within the room, gesturing those who weren't in their seats to find them.

Athena found no difficulty with hers and did so with minimal protest. She sat poised as she always did, legs crossed under the table and arms bent so that her palms may support her chin. Her eyes, which were always so full of intrigue and often directed at the object of her attention, fell on the ever-beautiful and equally as formidable as the Goddess of War was, Morrigan.

There had been a brief period of silence, chairs being scraped across the floor, former obnoxious chatter from Apollo and Heracles' crew being forced to silence themselves, some more refined conversations coming to a stop as The Morrigan demanded all of their attention. Somewhere in the pit of her stomach that always warned her about something terrible on its way, she felt a knot inside her contort repeatedly. Athena couldn't say if it was the eerie quiet that caused this or something else, but her heart nearly sank as soon as those words left her lips.

And even after she had a moment to process it, Athena couldn't deny that it affected her.

Hephaestus was dead.

"Someone actually killed him," Athena repeated in a low voice, looking around the table, around at her Pantheon. Her eyes saw family but her mind was thinking like a detective, but she wasn't the only one.

Without warning, Hera, Queen of Olympus and someone Athena had always respected for her strength and control, had lost it. But it wasn't like Athena blamed her. A part of her heart ached with her but rest saw how many accusations she threw. From Heracles, who was no stranger to Hera's wrath, to even Athena's father, and many more. It was as though nobody was safe from her grief, but someone had to stop her.

"I think that's quite enough, Hera." Athena intentionally left out 'Queen' because what she was acting like now was no queen but someone whose honor was on the verge of being compromised by acting out in anger. "While I will not hold you back if you wanted to take a crack at Heracles and his idiot friends, what I won't stand for is allow you to throw around baseless accusations." Athena stared down Hera for a slow, tense moment. "You are better than this, Hera."

_{@smarty0114 @The Ghost Note}

[Legion02]

---

ARES

_{SEATTLE UNIVERSITY}

GOD OF WAR

---

After Ares’ entrance, a slow trickle of gods and goddesses followed. From the Greek pantheon or not. Zeus’ arrival was met with a cold, disinterested should from the god of war. Danishes were delicious, but absolutely not worth getting up for and passing his father to get them. It was so obviously a ploy. Which only begged the question: who did Zeus want to shag at the Conclave? That was the only reason Ares could see why the King of Gods would go through so much effort. Athena’s entrance was met with Ares’ owns narrowing. Her mere presence was enough to get Ares on edge. Of course she went straight of Zeus and his poisonous Danishes. At least he was happy to see her confrontation with Shango unfold. ‘Pollo’s entrance was met with a slightly less hostile glare. Of course, the god was good in Ares’ books. He was just sizing everyone up as they entered the Conclave. To see who was here with a purpose and who was just here like a child attending an obligatory course. So far it would appear the later reason vastly outweighed the former one.

And then Ares smiled. Hera entered the room. She looked impeccable as always. A woman who stood her own against the King of the Gods. Ares could only admire her strength. Normally he would’ve gotten up to give her a hug and a peck on the kiss. Though now he was entirely contend to watch her rip Zeus, Apollo and whoever else she got in her sights a new one. More gods trickled in. And then even one stranger who… oh this was perfect. Ares couldn’t suppress the grin when the stranger puked all over his father’s shoes. If he was in private, he would’ve laughed his damn ass off. Other still entered in. Even his boss, whom he greeted with a small nod. Aphrodite’s entrance was met with a lot more attention though. The mere sight of her created too much turmoil in Ares. Guilt, an emotion he had been wrestling with in the last seven years now, reared its ugly head. Yes, he had wronged her. Deeply. He only hoped they could start making amends after the Conclave. Or rather, he hoped that she was at least open to the idea of forgiving him.

“Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”
  “Hephaestus is dead and I don’t know who killed him.”

There exists, for everyone, a sentence - a series of words - that has the power to destroy you.

The God of War seemed calm as he heard the news. Not even shocked. Almost disinterested. The room grew muted to Ares. The yelling and fiery rage of his mother became a muffled whisper. Distant. Unimportant. Movement, in the corner of his eyes, seemed to slow down. As if time itself went sluggish. His own thoughts consumed him. Invisible turmoil, only skin deep. For a good few seconds he just looked at his burning cigarette. Smoke rose from the embers like incense. He knew soldiers prayed like this. In small ways, with muttered words and big, fearful hearts. Always right before bloodshed. How long would he be able to contain his rage now? Not long. Not long at all. Blood would have to be spilled. In name of Olympus.

Slowly but deliberately Ares raised the cigarette and took one long drag as he pulled out his phone and began to type something. A message. With an address, a room number and a four-digit code. He sent it. None knew it yet, but outside the room gears started spinning. Preparations were made. Money moved as zeroes and ones automatically. Thick, black smoke bellowed from out of Ares’ nose. The cigarette itself was firmly put out on the tablet before him. Sure to burn a spot into the fake wood.

Then, Ares finally snapped. Without a word, without a cry or shout, he shot up. Sending his chair flying backward akin to Hera’s. With his left hand, he grabbed the table. A moment later it was flying out of his way with devastating force. With his right, he drew the silenced pistol from his coat and aimed it squarely at the Yoruban god Shango. There was nothing to see on his face. No bitter look of hate. No glee. No satisfied grin. He was cold, except for his eyes which burned with a fire that consumed forests.

_{Interacting with: @The Ghost Note}