AlteredTundra

Of Data and Code - A Digimon Story

Ngl I never watched xros wars, so i never knew about soundbirdmon but i gotta say that's a rad-looking mon.

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

𝕖 𝕩 𝕡 𝕖 𝕔 𝕥 𝕒 𝕥 𝕚 𝕠 𝕟 𝕧 𝕤 𝕣 𝕖 𝕒 𝕝 𝕚 𝕥 𝕪

_{location: Thor’s Apartment
interactions: Thor @metanoia & Sif @Danvers
mentions: Odin || Heimdall || Tyr}

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When Thor made it back from Persephone and Hades’ house, he reflected on the conversation he had with Persephone and what she advised him to do. The topic of family and not leaving unsaid words as just that was one that made him consider a lot. It made him think about his brothers, about Baldr and Vali, about Heimdall. All of them that may or may not have been Odin’s preferred sons. His relationship with them was strained (to put it politely).

And that wasn’t even factoring in how he felt about Odin himself. The almighty Alfather, the person that always thought of himself above everyone. If you weren’t for him, then you were essentially against him. Yeah, that’s what Thor came to know as his normal for so long.

But then the events at the Olympic Club happened. Those two greeks were dead. Anything they left unsaid would remain that way, because somebody took that choice away from them. No final goodbyes. No one last get together before they faded into Helheim (or whatever it was the Greeks believed). Nothing but crashing down from the skylight and their skulls crashing against the ground.

It was dishonorable, really. Not on them but on their killer or killers. Whoever did it held no respect for them. An honorable death would have saved everyone the grief of seeing them fall like that.

As the God of Thunder pulled in front of his dojo, he contemplated whether or not he was going to open shop. He was livid. Anger consumed him as he lamented more and more about everything today. Persephone’s words, her children the fury that he felt that he knew needed to be dealt with in only the way Thor knew how.

But he wasn’t sure what he should do. Open up shop and help someone or go upstairs, sleep for a few hours, and then, when night takes hold of Seattle, hunt those who hurt the innocents of Belltown.

Conflicted beyond any means of clarity Thor angrily exited his truck, slamming it as he walked past his dojo and made his way upstairs. He was in no place to teach anyone. It’s not like any of his students were going to be around today anyway. They were made aware that they had today off. All classes were canceled because of the festival, but with that now being called off, there was nothing for Thor to do but relax as much as he could (that was what Sekhmet told him to do in a manner of speaking).

He pulled his keys out of his pocket but realized something when he went to turn it.

“It’s unlocked?” Thor narrowed his eyes. He was too exhausted to take on a foe, but a mere mortal breaking into his apartment? That was, if nothing else, something he could handle.

In a swift moment, the door blasted open as the God of Thunder rushed in. the light had been turned on, Thor’s eyes were red with an anger he had dwelling deep inside him and when he saw someone, he didn’t really see them. He acted instinctively and pressed his toned forearm against their collarbone, rushing them to the ground in a simultaneous moment. He sat on top of them, legs locking theirs in, pressing his forearm against their neck only hard enough to keep them in place. “You sure have a lot of nerve--” Anger quickly subsided as he saw who was under him. That blonde hair, those eyes, the expression that he remembered so fondly. “--Sif? Is…is that really you?”

"Ow..." Sif groaned after a moment of shocked silence, suspecting she was going to have more than a few bruises in the morning. Her hands moved to grip onto his powerful forearm, trying and failing to push him away. It was impossible though, he was a deity of strength and power and she, well...her hair was a Fífl.

"Is this how you greet people nowadays?" She grumbled as she gave up, flopping back onto the hard floor. It did occur to her that maybe waiting in his apartment was not as socially acceptable as she'd first assumed. But when she'd told the superintendent of the building that she was Johans wife - mortal names were kind of weird - he'd had no qualms in showing her where the god of thunder kept his spare key.

Soft green eyes roamed over his form as she waited for him to move. It was like Týr, he looked the same but also different. She could sense that he was not okay, though whether it was because of her or something else, she wasn't quite sure. Lying there, Sif became acutely aware of their rather unbecoming position, which once would have been happily welcomed by the goddess. Now though...now she just wanted to be able to move her legs again.

"You're heavy..." She added quietly, trying to hide her embarrassment as her hair flashed crimson red.

He realized this a moment too late. “Oh..Sorry..” Sif laid under him, his forearm practically almost choking her and likely not in a way that was preferred (at least in thor’s recent experience generally speaking), he removed it from her collarbone and stood up, removing one leg off her body at a time. As he stood up, he grabbed her hand to help her up. It was still daunting that she was here. After all this time, Sif, his beloved wife, was here.

Looking at her, he couldn’t help but wonder where she was for so many centuries. A thought had come to him but he didn’t want to jump to any conclusions -- not yet, at least. “I..” He swore he would never say this, but Thor felt it was appropriate. “By Odin’s Beard, I can’t believe you’re actually here.” In a moment that had him consumed by emotion, rage no longer dominant but rather a cure to a heartbreak that was multiple centuries old, Thor took his wife(?) into an embrace. “I don’t know how but you’re here.” His voice cracked as he once again had her in a tight hold, possibly nearly crushing her fragile bones with his big arms.

Sif froze in place, taken aback by the outburst of emotion from a man who she had previously known to be much more composed. Not that she judged him for it. She had already cried at least three times since awakening. Eventually she rested her head against his chest, though she felt more awkward than comforted by their closeness. Hands warily moved to halfheartedly grip onto his shirt, which smelt weird and not at all like the one she had worn only half a day before.

"I-I flew in the sky." She announced ridiculously, "Well I mean, I woke up first. Then Týr found me and I got on a plane..." Sif mumbled her lacklustre explanation, probably providing more confusion for the god than anything else. "It was far out!" She said with a small smile, pleased at her attempt to use 'modern' english. Sif had in fact watched Good Morning, Vietnam on the flight over and had entirely failed to comprehend it being set almost 60 years in the past. It had been enough to realise that the tiny people weren't actually stuck behind the screen.

“Far out?” Thor couldn’t help himself as he laughed. Laughed so bad that it was almost like a croak due to the fact that he was high on emotions. Going from ire to yearning to whatever he was experiencing now, it was all just so much. He could feel himself breakdown at any given moment, yet something he clung to outside of physically clinging to Sif was what she mentioned about waking up. As he released her from the hug and looked at his wife, he blinked at her. “Did…you say you just woke up?” There was a part of him that almost felt relieved. He spent so long searching for her and she was still in those chambers the entire time.

"Why are you laughing?" Sif frowned, her bottom lip forming a small pout. Folding her arms across her chest she took a step back, strangely feeling a small amount of relief now that there was physical space between them. Had things changed whilst she was in the chamber? Or had it been even before the fall? Ignoring these doubts she nodded slowly at his question. "I woke up in Denmark. I guess most other people awoke years ago but I've been sleeping since the fall..." Her hands ran comfortingly up and down her arms as she dared to approach the one thought that had been stuck in her head. There was no point hiding from the fact that he had lived so many centuries without her.

"So...you've been around this whole time?" She asked simply, watching for his response.

In the midst of Thor’s own emotional roller coaster that carried him from joy and anger to some form of sadness and hope that he couldn’t explain, it took the God of Thunder a few extra moments (albeit accelerated by the pout on Sif’s face) to process exactly what she said. The years he spent searching for her, those decades upon decades of never giving up until the renaissance era, she wasn’t elsewhere trying to find her life nor was she just hiding in plain sight like he thought she had been. No, she was asleep. Asleep in Denmark. That in itself had forced Thor to take a step back (in a manner of speaking) because so many thoughts went through his head.

“Y-yeah..” He muttered slowly to her question. Shaking his head briefly, he took in a deep and slow breath, inhaling and exhaling. “A lot of us have been. And I looked for you, Sif. I spent centuries trying to find you. I figured, all of the time I spent, you were just, you know, either not wanting to be found or hiding where I didn’t look.” It was funny in a way. Thor searched high and low for her and she was sleeping in fucking Denmark, of all places. How in Helheim did he never consider that?

"You did?" Sif paused before taking a seat on the very edge of the couch, not willing to make herself too comfortable. "I wish I'd just been hiding. Sleeping wasn't all that fun." The memories of the nightmares were blurry and clipped at best, but she still had an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever she thought about them. "Thank you though...for looking. What--what happened after you stopped?" She didn't want to know but part of her just needed him to say it outloud because this feeling of being in limbo was awful. She thought of everything she had wanted to say to him before the fall but now it just seemed...pointless. Everyone else had been given two thousand years to change and she, well she was just the same as before. It was endlessly frustrating.

There was a lot of weight in the question she asked and it was weight that Thor didn’t know how to drop (so to speak). It was true he spent all those years aimlessly searching for her. Trying to find someone who left no breadcrumbs or strands of hair for him to follow was a lot more difficult than it might sound like. He remembered going aimlessly around the lands, fighting his way through armies, trekking paths that a god without divinity shouldn’t. It was strenuous on his body and at times, he had to find some level of comfort in the company of others, but Thor never stopped.

Until he did.

And Sif was asking for what came after.

He leaned against the counter, his back to it and arms crossed over his chest as his sapphire eyes had looked over to Sif. “You have to understand something first. It was five centuries. Five hundred years I spent looking. Tirelessly and aimlessly, I went to places, fought people trying to get from point a to point b, hoping for some shred of a trail that you may have left behind. But…” He fell silent as his head did the same. He gritted his teeth and his grip on the countertop was so tight that sparks centered into his fingertips caused parts of the fake marble to break off. As the broken pieces fell to the ground, Thor just continued, “...But there was nothing, Sif. No trail of you. Nothing to go off of. And after five hundred years of nothing, I was tired. I was broken and tired. I thought you were dead or you simply didn’t want to be found. So what was I supposed to do?”

Thor couldn’t hide the wave of emotions that came to the surface. He wasn’t a crying God but his eyes were puffy, evidence of his high emotions. “I had to force myself to move on. I couldn’t handle it anymore. The pain your absence brought was unbearable.”

Sif stared at the pieces of countertop that had landed on the floor, unwilling to look him in the eye. Thors words were filled with pain but her own was too much to ease his. She had known, or at least suspected such. Týr had been so unwilling to speak of his brother and there had been a hesitation that she had not dared breach. The goddess felt her hair grow longer, as if its locks could protect her from the hurt she was feeling, but she brushed it away and over her shoulders. She did not want to hide this time.

"I..." She paused. "Did you never consider that I was still asleep? I've heard I am not the first..." Sif muttered, her words barely audible. She knew it was unreasonable to expect him to wait so long, but the thought that he, no...everyone, had forgotten about her dug into her heart like a thousand shards of glass. The part of her that had wanted to lash out all those centuries ago, to free herself from the monotony of her life, started to well up inside of her once more. It called out to her and she felt so unwilling to deny it again.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised..." Sif heard herself talking but she felt so disconnected from her body, and was unable to stop the bitter words as they came pouring out. "I was never really worth anything but as your wife." Shut up Sif. "It makes sense that I could so easily be forgotten." You don't mean that. "I'm sure it must have been a relief when you didn't have to watch out for me anymore." No, that's not true...

What was she even saying? Easily forgotten?

Thor looked at Sif, listened as she spoke these ludicrous things but couldn’t find the courage to disprove them instantaneously. It wasn't that they were true - they weren’t true, but he was so paralyzed by…something (maybe that she was even speaking such things) and that just left a silence after she spoke. Never in the entirety of their time together had he known she felt these things. They were husband and wife and Thor never knew that Sif felt this way about their marriage. Blinded by his own emotions as he was, a genuine shock climbed onto his face and he forced himself to do…say anything.

But nothing came.

Damn it, why can’t I say anything?

Thor cursed himself repeatedly. And then cursed himself some more until a wave of defeat disguised as relief disguised even further as confusion consumed him and he finally spoke. “So…is that how you really feel? About us?” He asked flatly. His hand gripped the counter top, the same one that had crushed it a few moments ago. “I suppose I can't disprove your feelings. It was only 500 mortal years and without the benefit of replenishing my strength in Asgard. Perhaps I could have spent an additional five-hundred years searching even though I had searched everywhere I could think of. Maybe you were just that well hidden. Or maybe it was one of Loki’s tricks hiding you away from me.”

Thor let out a small laugh, that same defeated look on his face as he tried to grasp whatever he was feeling. He couldn’t hide it and Thor was seldom skillful at hiding his true emotions. Only exception was when the Blue Crusader went out at night. He could hide everything about him like a true stalker of the night. “Not like it matters now, does it, Sif? You’re free and instead of me, Týr found you. He did what I could not.” Despite how genuinely happy he was that she was here, an anger swelled up inside him when he thought of Týr being the one to find and bring her to Seattle, but he wasn’t entitled to such feelings. Thor knew that yet his wrath persisted.

Even with the flood of sadness and regret she was feeling, Sif still found herself blushing at the mention of Týrs name. Or more specifically, of hearing it come from Thors lips. Her hands went to her cheeks in an attempt to hide her body's reaction but it did little to ease the warmth spreading throughout her face.

"What does that even matter!?" She exclaimed, partly out of embarrassment and partly out of genuine wonder. "I would've been thankful if even Loki had found me!" Well...probably not, but that was beside the point. "Was it so important to you to be seen as my rescuer? My hero?" Sif stood as she spoke, hands running through her hair, unable to keep still. She shook her head, green eyes scanning over anything in the apartment aside from him. Any other time she would have been able to acknowledge the life he had put together for himself. To be glad that he seemed to be doing well. But now she could not, her gaze unable to focus on one thing long enough to truly pay attention.

As much as Thor wanted to say ‘no, you’re wrong. I don’t want to be your hero all the time’, the truth was he couldn’t. The God of Thunder, Mighty Thor couldn’t because that would be admitting to something that wasn’t factual. “Because it’s who I am!” He suddenly proclaimed, his voice rising to uncomfortable levels of loudness, aspects of his anger that boiled over the surface. “I’m Mighty Thor, Hero of Asgard, Savior of Midgard! It’s what I do: I save people. I’m a damn hero, Sif!” Thor stepped forward, his hands tightening as he slammed his fist down, again cackling with visible electricity, on the countertop, destroying it further.

Those were words Thor had often proclaimed as a motto of some sort. A personal mantra to get him through tough times. “But what kind of God am I? Really, I’m asking you. I spent so long trying to find you, trying to rescue you. Maybe it was because I needed to feel like a hero again. Maybe I needed a firm reminder that I was truly someone special again. Maybe I wanted that praise just one more time, but it wasn’t meant to be. Clearly it wasn’t, yet Týr just swoops you up like it’s nothing.” The anger became visible and Thor hated that he let it get to this point. What he hated even more, though, was that his own brother did this.

Sif couldn't help but cringe back at his fury. He had never directed his anger towards her before and for the first time, a small part of her was scared of him. She felt her hair flash white but she ignored it. "You never had to be a hero Thor. That's just what...what your father wanted." Her brow furrowed, refusing to let any of the tears that were welling up in her eyes spill over. "I just...I wanted you to be there with me. Not off fighting the Jötunn for the hundredth time. Did you even notice all those times I left Asgard?" She clenched her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms. It was painful but the pain was better than all of this.

"And Týr, he encouraged me to come see you..." Sif had never thought Thor jealous of his brother but his words said otherwise, spoke of things that maybe she had never been privy to. Or maybe she had just been too caught up in her own worries.

“Did he now? That’s interesting.” Thor couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle. He wasn't, but part of…whatever was happening right now felt funny to him - hilarious, even. Always playing second to his brothers. Heimdall as Odin’s faithful watchdog. And now with his own wife, Týr was replacing him. Maybe even seeming like a more ideal choice. Týr was her savior, not Thor. “What else did he encourage you to do?” Thor asked with a hint of spite in his voice.

"Nothing!" The goddess shook her head emphatically as she spoke, barely able to acknowledge that she had closed the gap between them. "Did...did you even hear anything I just said!?" She found herself pushing against his chest forcefully as she spoke, hurt and confusion overwhelming her. The tears that she had tried so hard to hold back began to spill over, falling down her cheeks in a way that she could not stop. "What do you want me to say? Tell me because I really don't know! Because I think your brother thankfully managed to find me when I had just awoken and was kind enough to help me out. That's it! Would you have preferred I stayed lost?"

No, I wouldn’t…

But Thor was beside himself with an unexplainable rage and jealousy. It was obviously something that Sif couldn’t even begin to understand, but the longer he spent deep in thought, trying to make sense that Týr was the one who found her, the more it appeared that she just didn’t want to be found by him. He understood what that seemed like. He understood that even thinking that made him look even worse. So why couldn’t he stop thinking about it? Týr finding her. Týr holding something over Thor’s head that will be as eternal as their life so long they consume the ambrosia.

It built up a storm inside him, causing his fist to crackle with sparks of blue lightning yet again. He tried to control it - manage it, but nothing was working. And to make matters worse, everything that happened forced tears out of Sif’s eyes, something he never thought he would be the cause of. Thor wanted to grab and hold her, try to console her but he didn’t have the right to. He wasn’t in any position to, so Thor, as gently as the God of Thunder was capable of, pushed her back and he himself took a step back.

As he gripped the hand that visibly shook with his other, trying to keep his rage and the static that was emitting from it, Thor tried to practice those deep breathing exercises he saw online that were supposed to help with anger. “There’s nothing you nor I could say, Sif. So perhaps it’s best if you left me alone.” The way Thor looked at her, whether she would catch it, was more of a desperate plea for her to leave. In the state he was in, nobody should see him like this.

Sif could only for a long moment stare at the god in front of her, frozen in place, heart thrumming rapidly. Partly out of fear but also sadness for seeing him in such a way. He was right though. What else could either of them say? She'd never seen him so out of control and her eyes flitted to his hand as the lightning crackled fiercely. Finally, she managed a small nod of her head, tears cooling against her skin.

Pulling up her hood, she approached the door, no longer having any chance of controlling her hair as it morphed wildly from one shade to the next. That was nothing though, compared to the deep ache within her chest. Thors own pain only confirmed to her that it would have been better for them all if she had remained asleep. Better for her to have slipped into the past as a distant memory. It's all your fault Sif. Barely awake for twenty four hours and she had managed to hurt the person who had once been closest to her.

"...I'm sorry." Sif said quietly as she slipped through the door. The words were so soft when they left her lips, it would be a surprise if Thor had managed to catch them.

Digimon: The Parallel Visage

Sure why not? Can't ever get enough Digimon~ The premise definitely intrigues me. I had a digi rp a bit ago that toyed with the sovereigns. Always found that to be an exciting concept to play with.

There's definitely a few ideas I'm thinking about. The feral digimon aspect definitely interests me.

Of Data and Code - A Digimon Story

HOnestly compared to Joshua Seth's Tai trying to cry, Agumon 2006 english dub voice is a welcomed treat to my ears. Nostalgia goggles can hinder a lot, but JS' horrendous screeching-for-crying is not one of them. Plus, I kinda dig the Agumon 2006 voice.

Of Data and Code - A Digimon Story

<Snipped quote by metanoia>

I mean is it all that different from Gatomon cat-into-angelic-woman energy?

@Double

No not at all! I just never considered that approach to Labramon. I find it neat is all I'm saying.

Of Data and Code - A Digimon Story

I will say that dog to fairy girl has some patamon guinea pig into angelic man energy if I ever saw it

Of Data and Code - A Digimon Story

There are no girls in this group.

@Crimson Flame

Listen I considered it, but I figured some others would. And I couldn't think of a good concept, so I went with my trauma boy.

Of Data and Code - A Digimon Story

And there is mine at last! This gonna be funnn!

Of Data and Code - A Digimon Story

Trent Abbott

Age: 15
Crest: Faith
Personality:Trent has never been one to speak in many words. Not necessarily a mute, but he's very introspective. Those he grew up with and those who might be his friends (he does have them even if in small numbers), Trent watches them and he can see when they're hurting. He likes to think he is observant in that way and attentive to his friends' feelings, but sometimes his silence and lack of speaking up does the complete opposite of what he intends to.

And this is the case with just about everything that Trent Abbott has done in his life (or at least tried to). He will always mean to do the right thing and even have the state of mind to want to do the right thing, but it seldom ever goes as he plans. He'll say something that might anger someone or his actions will contradict what he's saying (and vice versa). The times he's tried to be a good friend only came back to bite him in the ass, so part of his heart was closed off, blocking certain thoughts of being there, which has turned him into a somewhat bitter, brooding young man. Now he's quick to anger and gets into a lot of fights.

They always say that the road to hell is paved with good intentions, so Trent oughta be an expert at knowing that by now.

Backstory: How would one describe Trent Abbott's life? In a word: traumatic. In another - unfortunate.

Death and crappy luck have been a recurring theme in his life. First, it started with his parents. Long story short, one rainy night they were driving home. Trent was ten at the time, so the neighbor kid babysat him. His neighbor was also a friend of Trent's. Only a couple of years older than him, so younger Trent kind of looked up to him. For the most part, they played video games together. And when they weren't inside, they did what every ten-year-old loved to do: go to the arcade and get as much junk food as the twenty dollars his parents gave the older kid to spend on actual food.

Trent was a sweet boy back then, too. Not at all the stoic person, he grew up to be, but hearing about your parents was something of a gamechanger. To make matters worse for him, because of it, he was forced to move away to a few towns over. So Trent lost pretty much his whole world. His best friend lived far away, his parents were gone, and Trent lived with his uncle and aunt. They weren't bad people and they tried their best, but the nephew that they knew to be so full of life was just sort of...not around anymore.

For a couple of years, Trent struggled to find his place. He was in a new location. He went to a new school. Nobody really knew who he was and as much as that affected him mentally, it made him an easy target. He got into fight after fight after fight. He tried defending himself, but it proved to meaningless. He tried to make friends but only ended up self-sabotaging himself. Some things happened after that to where he just almost gave up on trying.

And then one day, in 8th grade, Trent was in the bathroom. He was alone, of course, and it was a free period, anyway, so he didn't necessarily have anyone wondering where he was. That could speak to a lot of things honestly, but what stood out about this moment was not that he was gone for however long he was, but rather where he found himself. To this day, he couldn't tell you exactly what it was that he was transported to. The only thing that he could say was it wasn't the boy's bathroom at his junior high school.

And what a strange place he was. Change scared him beyond anything in this world, so when he found himself in this place, panic set in. Trent tried to calm himself but the only thing that he could focus on was what happened before: something happened and he was forced to leave his life. Was this going to be like before? Like when he lost his parents? Trent was hyperventilating until he saw something of a line shine in front of him. Just five meters in front of him was an egg of some kind. It was the size of one of those juicy melons that his uncle occasionally bought.

Something about it felt...familiar. He couldn't explain what about it made him feel like that, but before he even realized it, he was back in the bathroom and the egg was in his arms. He rushed home. Using the free period he had to get it home and he hid it under his bed.

For the next couple of years, Trent kept it close to him, treading carefully. He talked to the egg, kept it by his side. He felt connected to it for some reason. Part of him had come back alive -- a part of him that was seemingly lost for so many years. The egg responded to his voice by emitting a warm feeling that comforted Trent. He didn't know what would happen, but he named the egg Arthur, after the friend of his he was forced to move away from. He was rejuvenated in a way and maybe this egg understood that, too? Yeah...maybe.
Notes:
-Trent always can be seen with a pair of earphones on his head, often lost in his own world and listening to whatever sappy song is his flavor of the month, but sometimes he likes to switch it up to emo rock.
-Like Arthur, grape soda and rock candy is his preferred snack and beverage combo.

Arthur the Gotsumon

Personality: Arthur is something of a protector. More so a protector of an unsure Trent but a protector nonetheless. This in itself, much like how he appears, makes Arthur to be quite stubborn and grounded in whatever stance he takes. This stems from feeling the insecurities and how Trent would regularly talk to him during those early stages even before he hatched from the egg. Though he never quite memorized what it was specifically, there was always this sense that he would need to be by Trent's side no matter what and it was a big contributor in how he viewed his partner. He refuses to let anyone talk bad about him - especially Trent. In a word, Arthur is both protector and the occasional reality checker for young Trent.
Notes:Arthur seems to be a huge fan of grape soda and rock candy. Combined and the two create a sugar rush that makes him his happiest.
Evolution Line

In-Training: Goromon
-Rock Breath - Spits out rocks from its large mouth.
Rookie: Gotsumon
-Rock Fist - Fires rocks from its head
-Earth Tremor - Slams the ground with its hands, causing pillars of rock to erupt
Champion: Golemon
Ultimate:
Mega:

𝘿𝙀𝙎𝘾𝙀𝙉𝙎𝙄𝙊𝙉 ⌜ᴀ ɢᴏᴅ ʀᴏʟᴇᴘʟᴀʏ⌟

Finding Help

_{Location: Anubis’ Condo
Interactions: Ares, Isabel @Legion02 & Anubis @metanoia
Mentions: Sekhmet @Aewin}

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Isabel wanted to scream. She wanted to put up the loudest techno she could find in the car. She wanted to open the door and jump out. There were a myriad of things she would rather do than sit in silence in her father’s car as he drove her to… somewhere. The silence cut deeper than any knife ever could. She kept fidgeting in her chair. The outside lights couldn’t distract her. Her hand kept going to her leg. An hour ago there would’ve been stitched and a deep wound. Now it was completely healed. How!?

She wanted to ask her father, but she couldn’t. Not right now. Ares had only ever been this serious one time before in her life. Back then she was just a teenager. She kept asking what was wrong. Why she suddenly had to pack and leave? He didn’t snap in the way she thought he would back then. He just told her that she would either gather her things and get in the car or drag her into the car, kicking and screaming if he had to.

He never told her what they were fleeing from. It only happened once though.

Now it felt like it was happening again. There was an unmistakable tension in the car. The same one as before.

They drove for what felt like three days but in reality it was less than an hour. They reached some sort of fancy apartment complex. “We’re here.” Alexander said. Her eyes looked up. Most of the lights were out. One stood out though.

Her father took her inside and into the elevator. Her heart was beating in her chess. What was ‘here’? Some sort of cult? Maybe some sort of secret CIA initiator? What was happening? They stepped out of the elevator and headed for one of the doors in the condominium. Before her father rang the bell he turned toward her.

“I haven’t said it often.” He said. “And I’m sorry for that. I love you, Isabel. I have always loved you. I will never stop loving you. You’ve made me proud.” He paused for a moment. There was a strange, uncharacteristic anxiousness on his face. “What’s going to happen now… it won’t be easy. There will be… talking. Answers too, hopefully. But a lot of talking. There’s no punching your way through what’s coming. There is no weakness you can exploit. It will just be.. a lot of talking. So I want you to take your own pace. If you need time you take it. As much as you think you need. Okay?”

Isabel’s lip quivered for a second. For the first time in far too long, she felt herself crack. Not even while being tortured in the hospital by that hag did she feel this vulnerable. Yet now her heart was beating in her chest like it wanted to break free. She didn’t have the words right now. So she just hugged her father and held him tight. Hoping he would never let her go.

They hugged for minutes. Ares never let her go. Only when she released her embrace did he ring the bell on the front door.

And the door opened not even ten seconds later. A man who wasn’t really a man. A god of the Egyptian Pantheon, a man whose skin was like night and had the faintest hint of grey around the beard that hugged his face from the edges of his sideburns all the way around under the bottom lip and over the top lip. Anubis met the two who came to his condo so late, yet he was expecting them. He wore what he always wore in impromptu appointments: an outfit assortment consisting of a sweater vest, a tie, slacks, and oxford tipped shoes. HIs outfit was all colored in soft browns and light tans. The vest was a combo of each, the slacks black, and shoes were white and sienna.

Anubis let his guests in. “Please, come in,” the Guider of Souls said in a deep, soothing voice, though vaguely British in how it sounded. When Ares and his daughter stepped into his condo and the door gently closed behind them, he led the two inside on the couch. For such a late and last minute request, at the behest of his acquaintance, of course, this was the best that Anubis could do. Ideally, he would prefer to have done it at his official practice, which was to say just down the block, but he couldn’t dare bother his assistant this late at night. Sarah was a sweet mortal woman that Anubis hadn’t the heart to interrupt her, not on her day off.

Besides, Anubis had been, as it was with him internally, struggling with the loss of life he sensed earlier in the day. He persisted on and took a seat opposite of the Greek God of War and his companion. “I hope you know it’s not common to take such impromptu calls, Alexander. But I understand the urgency.” Anubis took a moment to examine the woman sitting next to the usually stoic god of war. It was clear to him that she was in some state of distress. She went through something traumatic recently. The stain of pain was as fresh as the feeling of melancholy still within him from what he sensed earlier. “My name is Dr. Darius Amentiu, or if it eases you so, you may just refer to me as Darius.” He said to the lady with a gentle smile. A thought came to him about whether or not she knew about them. If she knew they were divine.

Isabel’s eyes were trained on this ‘Darius’. She didn’t return the smile. It was a habit. Any emotion at all could be used against her. That’s how things went in a courtroom. In fact, that’s how things throughout her life so far. “Dr. Amentiu.” She greeted him as politely and stiffly as possible. Though she refused to use his offered name. Not so much because she felt at ease. Gods no. She did it to maintain distance. It took all but a second for her to clock what he was: a shrink. She had dealt with them before. At the insistence of both her middle and high school.

“Isabel… knows something is up.” Alexander, sitting beside her said in a rather matter-of-factly way. “I would’ve wished to introduce her into this world more… slowly. But things happened. She had an encounter with Sekhmet that would leave… one short of a rational explanation. I was hoping you would be able to help us with what comes next.”

The only mortal in the room almost let herself react to that information. The name Sekhmet sounded familiar. Was he speaking about Dr. Ayad? Sekhmet must be some sort of alias. It was something to start looking through. That combined with hospital employment records would give her enough. For now, though, she had to get through whatever this was going to be. Which became more and more confusing.

“I understand.” He noted, taking his eyes from the god of war to Isabel. To have such an encounter, even with one of the more compassionate gods in his pantheon, would shock any mortal. Anubis had known many strong-willed mortals and something as daunting as the knowledge of divinity would shake them. Isabel seemed to be such a mortal, but there was something else. Something that either Ares wasn’t admitting or that maybe he wouldn’t?

He kept his kind eyes and smile on Isabel before turning them onto Ares. “Alexander, for…this to be as helpful as I am sure you want it to be, respectfully, I think it is best you give us some time. Perhaps two hours should suffice?” Though late, Anubis recognized this was a special case and above all else, Isabel seemed to be distressed about something. Maybe it was what Ares refused to disclose? If it was, Anubis had to tread carefully. Ares was an acquaintance, but Isabel would be his priority here on out.

“I understand.” Ares replied. Before he left he did turn towards Isabel. “Be good, okay. I’ll be back in two hours. Just like I promised. I’ll always be back.”

The words grabbed a memory that Isabel thought she had long forgotten. She was standing at an airport. Her nanny stood beside her. She was watching her father leave again. He always left. But he always came back. She kept herself cold. That was the best for her and she knew it. Stay cold. Stay strong. That’s how you survive. So she showed not even a hint of emotion.

Alexander just smiled and got up. “I do, truly, appreciate this doctor.” He told Dr. Amentiu. Then he quite unceremoniously left.

Isabel sat down stiff on the couch with her arms and legs crossed. She had to stay strong. One moment of longing… One sign that she missed him… But she did miss him. She turned around, just for a second. All she saw was a closed door. Her heart collapsed. Only her heart though.

She turned back towards Dr. Amentiu. “So what now? Are you going to show me blobs of ink and ask me what I see? Dead people by the way. I see dead people in all of them.” She said and she made very little effort to hide her sarcasm. After all, Mao Zedong himself said that the only real defense is an active defense.

Anubis chuckled and hummed thoughtfully. “We could do that if it is what you want. It has proven to be helpful with some of my patients. It would resonate with them in some way, but perhaps not in your case.” Anubis crossed one leg over the other, the foot of the crossed leg resting just before his knee. “It’s interesting you would say dead people though. Do you see a lot of death in your line of work, Isabel?”

“No more than others.” A lie. As a criminal defense lawyer she had seen her fair share of dead bodies in pictures. The first few times she always felt like she was going to hurl. The first time she saw a live dead cadaver she actually did hurl. Not that she was going to admit to that. If she didn’t speak about it and nobody else knows about it then it didn’t happen, or so she wanted it to be. “And I don’t want to talk about blobs, I want-“ She stopped herself.

This was a dangerous subject. One wrong word and he could latch on to the wrong thing. She took her sweet time mulling over her words after that. Until she was confident about what to say: “What I want is to know how a deep cut made by glass could heal in less than a minute.” She said as neutral as possible. Though she didn’t uncross any of her limbs.

There was no doubt this was about what Ares mentioned. And her encounter with Sekhmet. Anubis closed his eyes for a short moment. In all the times he had to see patients -- both divine and mortal -- there were certain challenges, difficulties that would arise during sessions. Whether it was about the credibility of Anubis’ qualifications or deflecting from the core of the issue, there was always one. He was a patient god and one who understood (probably better than most) the weight that a heavy heart and soul could do to a person, no matter who or what they were.

Proceeding carefully, Anubis finally spoke, “That is not a simple question that I can just answer in a black and white sense. But I also am not Alexander and withholding truths from you isn’t what either of us are here for. When he came here and you sat on that couch you are sitting on now, it was decided that my priority would be whatever was in your best interest.” Anubis was trying not to let it show but he held a certain anger for Ares. He didn’t know the specifics, but he could make his best educated guess that something traumatic happened. ]“If it is what will ease your heart, then I shall tell you. Certain individuals exist that are capable of feats that surpass what you might consider…normal. Like healing a freshly-cut wound.” Anubis wouldn’t have divulged this had she not already been exposed to the existence of Gods.He still would go at a pace he felt she could ease into better.

Isabel scoffed when the good doctor said that he wasn’t like her father. That he would make her his priority right now. Nobody was that selfless. He was probably getting a fat cheque from her father for this. He did find a way to finally capture her genuine attention. When he talked about how there are people out there with capacities beyond the normal she ever so slightly leaned in. For the longest time she suspected something was up. Her father didn’t have a single gray hair on his head. Despite having to be at least near sixty. He should look old. Instead he barely looked forty. And then there was of course the whole Sekhmet mess.

She latched on that subject in a second. “So how did she do it?” She immediately asked. Though for once she sounded genuinely curious. The question wasn’t some thinly veiled attack. At first she thought it would be magic. That was ridiculous of course. She had long since stopped believing in magic. Again, absent-mindedly, she rubbed the leg where she got stabbed. “Stem cells? Nano-machines?” Both were nothing but ideas so far. Still, those were the most likely options.

And then she realized she wasn’t thinking big enough. It wasn’t just the healing. Her eyes looked down as she started thinking. Her father didn’t age. The doctor could heal. There was some other crazy ‘family member’ who was holding back something. Then her eyes shifted toward the good doctor in front of her. “My dad… Dr. Ayad… You. Who… what are you?”

Anubis could see it from a mile away. Isabel was an intelligent woman. Not that he was that surprised by it. She was Ares’ daughter, after all. The apple never fell far, but her natural instinct to show her temper was another thing he had heard the God of War was known for. Anubis had his temper. Everyone of divinity had one to an extent, but those born of war were more prone to it. Anubis had seen this in many of his patients that were of their kind.

And now a mortal born from it..no, a demigod, knew about it, as well.

He smiled at the Daughter of War. “I promised I would not lie to you. To prove that, I will answer as simply as I can. Truth is, we are divine beings. Your father spoke of Sekhmet, which I’ve no doubt you have surmised is Dr. Ayad. As for myself, well I have been known by many names over the years, but I believe the most common and most popular is Anubis and it’s one I am quite fond of myself.” He wondered what this would do to her internally. Anubis had never dreamed that he would reveal his true identity to a patient, but Isabel was far from a normal patient. She was of divine blood. She was one of them. No matter what has happened, that much couldn’t be denied nor ignored.

A wheezing laugh echoed through the good doctor’s entire condo. Isabel couldn’t contain herself. “Gods?” She managed to squeeze out before her laugh overtook her again. So far she had figured the names would be codenames. It took a solid minute of laughing before she finally managed to gather herself. Her stomach hurt from it. Or perhaps from the many other things that transpired in just the last few hours. Still, Isabel couldn’t believe it.

“And what? My father is Horus? No, no, Apophis? Seth?” Her tone made it clear that she was mocking the very concept of them being divine. It was too ridiculous to be true. Eventually, she looked the good doctor in the eyes though. “You’re not really expecting me to believe that pile of crap right? Gods don’t exist. They never existed. They were just… manifestations of humanity’s imagination to explain phenomena they couldn’t understand. They’re just placeholders for science.” Before, Thor created thunderstorms and Ra pulled the sun from horizon to horizon. These days humanity knew better. Atmospheric pressure differences create lightning and the earth spins because of gravity. The healing had to have some scientific explanation. It had to. It absolutely had to.

Though Anubis did not show it, that mention of Seth riled something inside him that he had, for the most part, mastered to keep it from bellowing to the surface. “I didn’t expect you to believe me at face value.” He uncrossed his legs but didn’t stand up -- not yet, at least. He knew simply telling her the truth wouldn’t work. Part of him knew that but he had to try anyway. No, he was understanding Isa more and more. One thing he was certain of was how she was someone who needed more than just the word of a doctor that she didn’t know an hour ago. “If you are open to it, I would like to show you something, Isabel.”

“If it will make me laugh as much as I just did then sure. Show me what you got.” Isabel leaned back smugly in the couch. She wasn’t entirely sure what would come next. In truth it all had to be a joke. It had to be, because if it wasn’t there was something deeply wrong. Was her father in some sort of cult?

He chuckled only slightly and only because of what he was about to do, there was indeed a chance that she could laugh. “To make this as clear as I possibly can make it, though you do not believe me just yet, we of divinity have certain domains and with that comes special powers. Sekhmet, as you probably realized, is a healer, but as for me, well--” As he lifted his right hand, though faint in visibility, a purple smoke started to emit from his palm and slowly ascended as it coiled around each finger. It concentrated on the tips and started to flow towards Isabel. Then, in a single blink of his eyes, which had been solely locked on his patient, the smoke faded into particles of dust, reappearing around Isabel. He made it possible that she could see it until she couldn’t. “And this is mine, Isabel. Tell me, what are you feeling right now?”

For a second she frowned. Her eyes looked away. Then her muscles relaxed. For the first time in far too long she realized she was holding a horrible amount of tension inside of her. Her blood felt warmer as it flowed through her. At the same time a clarity went through her mind. As if suddenly someone pulled away the clouds to show her what really mattered. Things were falling into place like puzzle pieces. “I feel… afraid.” She confessed. “Dad is… always so… far away. He’s the only one I have. I don’t want lose-“

A paranoid brain always questions itself. The moment those words left her lips she realized something was up. Alarms rang out in her head. Walls rose up from the metaphorical ground that reached high. The sensations of relaxation vanished in an instant. A wide-eyed Isabel, who was having tears form in her eyes, suddenly snapped back. But she did turn pale. It was a trick. It had to be. Elsewise she would have never said those things. The CIA had something. A drug that made you tell the truth. She heard about it. That had to be it. No, wait. It was smokey, whatever happened. None of it made sense.

“W-Wait.” She said as a dizzy spell knocked her for a loop for a second. She couldn’t look at the good doctor. Instead she was pulling herself up from the couch. Who else had these things? These domains? She pressed her nails down into her arm. The pain mixed with adrenaline jolted her awake. Her mind bounced back to the question at the center of it all now. She looked up towards the good doctor. “Who’s my father then?”

Anubis watched her closely, observed her every move with watchful eyes. She had started to accept it, but then fought against the effects of the smoke. Anubis never forced it on anyone. His power, at least the version of it since the fall, was about free will and the power of whoever was on the receiving end to accept its effects and let it happen naturally and with their consent. Isabel was initially accepting of it, but she started to reject it. That’s what he found interesting. Interesting in the sense that maybe she was open to the process? And not just doing this because Alexander had forced her to.

When she asked about her father, he considered the possibilities of how the God of War would react when it reached back to the Guider of Souls. But Ares should’ve known that whatever happened, Anubis’ main priority has and always will be his patients. He took his seat, crossed his legs, and took a moment before he answered her question. “Your father has gone by many names. Over the years, I’m sure, he has adopted a lot of aliases. But you might know his true name as Ares, the Greek God of War.”

In a way, the information was everything she ever wanted and far too much. It was as if a single cog fell exactly in place that made the entire machine work in her mind. Only for her to realize that the whole thing was spinning far too fast.

For the first time in her whole life, Isabel felt completely overtaken by dread. She would fight it. So far she had fought everything that came at her like this. She fought that bully in middle school. She fought against those fratboys thinking she would make for a good conquest. Hell, she fought against her peers in the law firm. Every time she came out on top. Every time it confirmed to her that she was a fighter. All of that collapsed. Only one thing went through her mind.

“I have to get out of here.” She mumbled. It was barely audible. Luckily for her, she was already on her two legs. Isabel gave the good doctor Anubis one final look before she burst into a sprint. With a fluid motion, she ripped open the front door and barreled down the stairwell.