Realistic or Modern | 𝙽𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝙲𝚒𝚝𝚢 | A Noir God RP

[TYPE]

Arriving at the Party, and Listening to the Speech
INTERACTION/MENTION: EVERYONE AT THE PARTY

There exists few things in this world as tedious as waiting in traffic. Leaning against the white leather seats, Eros internally cringed as he looked his mother over, sitting across from him. It was not that she was... unhygienic. She was just... sex. Constantly. And knowing that the seats he was on... the hands that she touched him with... the kisses she peppered him with... It was sometimes hard to not imagine what she had done with those hands. Often only a moment before she assaulted him with her affections.

Not a few hours earlier had he made his way to his room and washed his face where she had pinched his cheeks. As if he had not walked into the room to her fondling and... heavily petting Ares like the dog he was. He felt the side of his mouth turn down further. He knew she reveled in it. Her... debauched... baptizing... It's not like he could deny her the pleasures. He imbibed occasionally all the same. But... He felt the leather creak beneath his legs... He almost made a noise of disgust.

No wonder she chose white.

The car finally stopped, Eros nodding at the driver as he got out. The man looked at him, his eyes misty, a soft abashed smile on his face. Dammit... he was radiating again.

"Look at me. You are not in love. Snap out of it." He pointedly stared at the man, being as direct as he could. Often that was enough to snap them out of their infatuation.

His mother would complain at his lack of control. She never... had her power spill out like this. She said it was due to control. Focus. To him... He had control. And Focus. It was like... he was bottling up his power. Like a well. Like a dam. He felt... powerful. Too powerful for what he was. Too much...

He looked towards the guy again. He looked heartbroken. Soft lines of tears rolling down his cheeks. It was ruining his suit.

They only reacted like this... if they actually... felt something before.

He felt his heart twinge.

Leaning forward, he gently placed his lips against the young man's cheek. The driver watched with hopeful eyes, not moving. Using his free hand, he gently caressed the tears from his cheek. "You... I am not deserving of your affections. Your presence close to me, has wrongly elevated your longing." He leaned closer, whispering in his ear. "Forgive me." He pressed his lips against the man's temple. His pupils contracted. He seemed dazed... and then the love for Eros left him. Leaving not hate. Leaving... nothing.

Eros turned from him, starting to walk past the gathered crowd.

He walked past the doors, looking everything over. The house... the manor. It was as gaudy as he might have imagined it to be. Like some drunk, flamboyant pirate had thrown up across every fucking surface they could find. Every moment his eyes found rest it was on some over-emphasized and heavy handed physical metaphor or ode to the sea. With a filter of too much money saturated throughout it.

It was disgusting.

Deciding to stay away from people at the start, he made his way towards one of the darker spots of the room, grabbing one of the drinks. Finding an empty table, he sat himself down, peering over the crowds. It seemed that there would be talking. A lot of talking, before eventually they would get to an actual party.

Luck beyond luck, maybe the speeches cause such a fuss he gets to go home early.

The idea had him smirk.

Poseidon started it, and Eros could not help but roll his eyes.

Then the Titan did. Less cringy... but he was being just as hypocritical as Poseidon. If the latter had proven he could not rule... the former had proven he did not have the right to choose who does. Not wanting to interfere, He sighed loudly, emptying his drink. Awaiting another while awaiting another speech.

He lazily wondered who it would be?




​

 

[ailurophile]

AMPHITRITE​

Since the news of Zeus' untimely death had broken, Amphitrite had scarcely spoken. Not out of grief and mourning, perhaps, more out of a deep and persistent melancholy that plagued her every waking moment, and was exacerbated by the situation. She had held her husband as a wife should, silently reassuring him of her love and devotion. They had stood by the sea as it raged and then calmed, locked in an embrace, a symbol of their agreement to one another. A love that was as binding as it was beautiful.

When he'd retired inside at last, she had spent her own time looking out across the water. It lapped at the shore, inviting her to play, but she did not oblige. Her husband hadn't said a word, but she knew, inside, what was to come. Amphitrite feared she was not fit for it.

She was no Hera.

But she stood by Poseidon's side at his request nevertheless, neck draped in strings of pearls, body cloaked in a dress of sea-foam green. Her silence persisted as she listened to his speech, but a smile crept across her face; he was a master wordsmith, that was for sure, so eloquent and charming. It made her proud. When he was finished she went to him, laying a hand on his forearm, her quiet smiles telling him all that he needed to know. Wherever he went, she would follow.

The shatter of a glass broke her from her trance. Again she listened in silence, but this time, her blood boiled.

Amphitrite had never experienced the rage that seemed to occupy her husband so frequently, never.
Until Prometheus opened his mouth.

Nobody spoke for what felt like an eternity. It seemed to Amphitrite that the sound of shattering glass ricocheted from every wall, growing louder and louder until it was almost unbearable.

"I would thank you kindly to take several things into account before you speak again, Prometheus, my dear man."
Her voice was soft. The room remained quiet enough for her to be heard clearly. Amphitrite broke away from her husband, trailing her fingertips across his arm as she passed. The skirts of her dress dragged along the floor as she came to a standstill. Poseidon was still close, but he felt miles away.

She didn't enjoy being the center of attention. The eyes that bore into her stung like electricity.

"The situation, your surroundings, and your company. You come into our home, at a time of mourning. You break our property, and insult my husband's intentions. Is this supposed to make you seem the better candidate? Have you ever picked a leader because he was vindictive, and and tactless?"

Eyes fluttering closed just for a moment, she took a shuddering breath to calm herself. When her vision returned, so did her smile.

"Please, would somebody fetch Prometheus another drink? I hate to seem like a poor hostess."

Amphitrite returned to Poseidon's side and slipped her arm through his.


Wherever he went, she would follow.

High5ives BELIAL. ​

​

 

[RayPurchase]

Hades

“Oh Brother where art though?”

Hades stood before the gates to Poseidon’s manse, his hands stuffed inside the rather shabby suit he was wearing. Persephone had been aghast at his choice of clothing, what sort of statement did it make turning up at the largest gathering of gods in eons, and here was looking like he’d snuck in the back entrance looking for some spare change. Still she knew by now that when he had his mind set, then there was no going back,uncompromising, un-negotiable and unwilting in the face of the flashier domains and their godly personifications. The way he saw it, he didn’t have to advertise the fear of death lay strong upon the city, even stronger in current days. Let Poseidon drape himself with fineries and the like, he probably already had a crown lined up, ready to be thrust upon his head at the end of the festivities.

Inside was… well exactly what the outside had suggested. Decadent, opulent and a garish blend of garish colours, and even more garish guests. Persephone was gone by now, free to make merry and enjoy herself, he caught a glimpse of her, disappearing into the crowd. He knew she was unhappy, that much was plain as day. The young goddess of vegetation, fertility, life itself, taken to the very place that was anathema to life itself. He loved her, of that there was no doubt, but he understood the difficulties she faced, far from home and closer family. He was happy for her to enjoy herself tonight. Dark times were ahead, best to be carefree whilst there was still time. He swiped a glass of champagne from a passing merman, passing the rim under his nose, taking in the flowery bouquet of smells. He took a sip as he swung by groups of deities, beasts and former mortals. They paid little attention to the shabby figure as he skirted around them. Invisibility, not like waving a wand and disappearing in a puff of smoke mind you, though if he wanted to he could probably pull such a thing off quite easily, or a cloak of hat of invisibility. This was simpler, a fleeting figure on the periphery of their vision, managing little more than a glance before being lost in the crowd once more. He had enough lackeys at home without having to attract yet more sycophants here, jostling for position now that the natural order had been shaken so. Thankfully the dance across the hall ended, as he encountered someone with whom he was more than happy to spend the hours with. A fellow god of death in this garish palace filled with the throngs of the living.

" I'm glad you’ve come along Old Friend. Far too much life about the place, positively stifling isn’t it?”

Hades placed his hand on Anubis’ shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Old Friend was right, even older than Hades despite his less weathered visage. Anubis packaged them up and Hades took them into his home. A partnership that had lasted millennia, a well greased and oiled machine that ran like clockwork, their business was death, and business was always booming.

He hadn’t managed to get anything else out beside the opening pleasantries however, his brother had already begun his power play. First dominate the room, and then dominate Night City, the natural order of things. Ah there he was, smooth, well polished, almost shining in the stage light, it suited him of that there was no doubt. His wife by his side screaming stability, family, and strength of unity. A political power play if he ever saw one, quite well executed too. Looking at his brother he could see that the ocean was calm today, scattered wispy white clouds and sunny skies, warm and inviting. He knew better though, like the waters he ruled over, this was just an inviting and inciting front. Stormy skies, frothing waves and whirlpools were just around the corner when it came to Posiedon, beneath those calm depths lay a myriad of beasts and dangers, the true face of the sea. The speech was… well it was good. Undermined somewhat by their brother and now ex-overlord’s body still being warm to the touch. But the sentiments were good, hitting those notes, professionalism, a new start after the period of chaos, the rising of a new dawn. And it made his blood boil inside his veins.

For a moment his mask nearly slipped, the grey depths of his eyes flashing black, a deep dark obsidian, not so much coloured back as a true absence of any light, a bottomless abyss that teased and tempted you in. There was a quiet crack as the champagne flute in his hand cracked, fissures being thrown up along the stem, his fingers twisting around the delicate glass, unnatural in their motions. Then the crash rang out. The Last of the Titans had decided to make his statement. The sudden noise cut through the fog, and his hands relaxed, the darkness slipping away, back under control, the wisened older gentleman returning to the fore once more. His eyes flicked towards Anubis, offering him a wry smile. Had he seen it? Most likely, he knew what lived within Hades more than anyone. What lived in all of them really, beneath the facade of 20th century civilisation they currently wrapped around themselves, beneath it all they were the same primordial beings that had been born through belief, fear and sacrifice. No matter how you dressed it up, being born under those conditions left their marks.

Ah Prometheus. You would have thought being one of privileged few of the old ruling class to still walk free would instill a bit of tact, at least to keep your head down. But he’d always been headstrong, act first and consider the consequences later. His eyes flicked up to the stage, would this see the first cracks in Posiedon’s visage, the act of a politician left shattered in the face of heckling, revealing the true primeval god below. As Prometheus's violent retort came to an end he could feel the tension in the room, it had always been there, inside and out. Zeus had simply smothered it with his presence, the only one with the balls big enough to bend the whole place to his will. He could feel eyes flicking his way. The three brothers reduced to two. The grand lord of the ocean had made his move, swept up in elegance and perfumed words. Now what of the third, the outlier, the one who had carved out his domain removed from Night City and the ruling elites. He placed his hand on Anubis’ shoulder and leaned in, his lips fluttering by his ear.

“Cue the first spark of the raging inferno to come,”

He placed his glass down, and stepped forward, clapping as he did, slow and methodical, ringing out in the silence left by Prometheus and Amphrite. Bless her, quick to her husband’s defence. Would Persephone do the same for him? He would expect not, but then again would he allow himself to be put into such a compromising position. Behind all of the elaborate pageantry and carefully planned speeches, had he fired the starting gun too early. Was there really the support there for such a move. A space cleared around him as the people saw the source of the clapping. At a time when even the king had fallen victim to death’s cold embrace, the gods of dead were generating just and additional strain of unease, even amongst the supposed immortals.

“Such firey rhetoric Prometheus, perhaps my nephew should relinquish his dominion of the volcanoes and grant them unto you. I can’t help but feel that you could have avoided the hassle of stealing the fire from Hephaestus’ forge, and simply kindled a branch from the inferno burning in your belly to gift to the humans. Would have saved a lot of pain in the long run. You don’t have to be eagle eyed to see that much,”

There were a few chuckles from a few sections of the crowd at the rather poor pun. He patted the seething Titan on the back, there was a firmness to the blow, more than you would have expected from Hades’ form. However even now he seemed to grow, standing shoulder to shoulder with Prometheus, drinking in the attention he had avoided for so long, deep beneath the earth, yet still within the shadow of Zeus.

“And why would we want to kill you? What would that truly achieve? Besides, as many of my guests who died in the expectation of a place where the hardships and burdens of life were stripped away, alas now in death they realise that their burdens in their past lives, are nothing compared to the burdens of my makings they are forced to carry in death. And as for your brothers and sisters residing in Tartarus, I fear they are as good as dead. The Underworld has but one door, and it opens only one way.”

He swung away from Prometheus, giving him a pat on the flank. As he did however he winked. Almost impossible to see from more than a foot away, more of a twitch, and his hand darted upwards slipping something into his pocket, a card, flicked from his sleeve. He had made interesting points, that was for sure, but right now the establishment teetered on a knife’s edge. The Greek’s hold on the worlds material and immaterial were in danger of slipping. To see Hades coming out instantly in support of the first to speak out against his brother could just bring about infighting and destruction on the scale that even his own holdings would be affected by. Not to say that he could simply let Poseidon get away with such a brazen move mind you. He swept up a fresh glass from a rather shell shocked looking Merman and raised it towards the evening’s power couples and hosts.

“Amphrite my dear, your hospitality knows no bounds opening your house to us in this time of mourning, putting aside tears and weeping and in their place putting on such warming smiles to welcome us all,”

He turned now towards his younger brother. The conniving little shit. The grin still fixed in place, matched now by his own. Would he crack, would the tremors and violent waves crashing within shatter that mirror like surface. He expected not, not today anyway, things were too perfectly in place.

“To bury a brother is a sad thing indeed. I must salute you on your own stowing of grief, to already volunteer to take the mantel of responsibility and leadership, and so soon after dear Zeus’ passing. It appears that this mourning has passed quicker than any other brother as we speed towards your new day,”

He frowned as he looked at glass he was holding studded with pearls. He plucked one out with ease and held it up to the light. His smile slipping for the first time as the light caught the bauble, sending rainbows of light dancing across its surface.

“Such beauty, diamonds of the sea, so valuable and sought after. Interesting things though aren’t they. Despite their beauty and outward shine, at the heart of them lies the grain of sand. The true core and irritant, They catch our eyes and yet to the Oyster they are but a way to get rid of that which ails them. The poison lurking behind the polished surface…”

He flicked the pearl and it rolled away across the floor. Less like a pin dropping as to an earthquake. The smile returned. The problem with spitting pure poison was that it was too obvious, you had to force it down them, burning their ears and throats. You lace it with honey though, and they’ll be lining up to listen and partake.

“Apologies brother, I’ve stolen your steam on this your night, or Zeus’ night. Both of your nights perhaps? Regardless, continue your pitch”

With a final dip of his head, he backed into the annonymity afforded by the crowd, easing his way into the dense pack like a thief in the night, assuming his position by Anubis. Despite his realm being one of death and darkness, he had never felt more alive.

( High5ives Prometheus, ailurophile Amphrite, TYPE Anubis, BELIAL. Poseidon, @Everyoneelse at the party)

 

[BELIAL.]

POSEIDON, god of the sea + earthquakes
location: the maritime mention: High5ives ailurophile ​

He hated to be the one to shatter the Titan's sheer inability to read a room. No one, perhaps afraid of sparing a tongue to the god with a sharp trident, had looked like they wanted to say anything. Perhaps they didn't want to say anything. And yet, here came the bold and boisterous; Poseidon disliked the man for his brazen ways, just as much as Zeus did. Though the offer for Poseidon's party had been extended to everyone, regardless of godhood, he wished he could have rescinded the invitation to this one man. To this one shit-stain of a deity.

But he bit his tongue, for now. He listened, keeping the smile taut against his cheeks. It hurt his face. The glass that had shattered on the ground was being tended to by a quivering mermaid, her glossy hair shaking as much as her shoulders did. His gaze darted back to Prometheus, relishing in the whipping blows that the Titan set upon the god of the sea. This chastise, this verbal assault, was like a particularly windy day on the sea to the god. The blows stung, but they didn't draw blood. Were Poseidon not with his wife, perhaps he would have taken the Titan's offer to give him the full force of a man who's party was rudely interrupted by a guest. Perhaps later he'd send a few goons, maybe Maui, to try and shake the Titan. Nothing lasting, nothing physical. He wished he could relish in a few jabs to the man's jaw, just to watch the blood spew from his lips.

It'd be like punching a pillow to Poseidon. But he had to keep his cool, as much as his temper simmered just below the surface.

Prometheus was bold, truly, to antagonize Poseidon at his own party. His hands clenched, the one in his pocket squeezing tight enough to avoid breaking the glass in his hand currently. But the smile remained. It broke for a moment, a faux stick of the lip out, to brandish his own set of weaponized words, but his wife stepped in.

Ever the cooling breeze, ever the calming lull of ocean on a summer day.

Oh, why did he ever stray? Why did he, in his youth, stray so far from this loyal wife of his? He sired many children, and flirted about with many other goddesses and women. They were fun, in the moment, but the most he could do these days was make it up to her. Stay steadfast as well, stay as honorable as an Olympian could be; precisely in these times when everything was going to change-- again. The more power he had, the more bold that Poseidon became.

But he wouldn't ever admit it. Especially not now.

Then Hades stepped in, with his clever words and his easy swagger. Poseidon was grateful that even with the stunning blows that his brother threw upon Prometheus and himself, he did not throw glass or threaten combat. He hated how collected the god was, him and his dark and dusty cavern. He loathed his brother in this moment, for stealing the thunder that Poseidon would have liked to dish back at Prometheus, to defend his own name and the slandering words of a Titan. He'd have a word with the god later, but for now, he had other fish to fry.

Eyes narrowed, but smile caked, Poseidon strode toward Prometheus. A mere step or two, only. The wife at his side. He stared down, keeping the shark-like grin on his face. Everyone was watching, he had to remain at peace.

"I'm sure you can see, Forethinker, that my brother speaks some amount of wisdom you seem to lack. If you have issues, or doubts, with how I intend to run Night City, by all means; let's talk in the drawing room. This is a party, and a place of peace and celebration of my brother's memory. Your childish, but reasonable worries, are better suited to privacy. Come, shall we?" He hissed through gritted teeth. Smiling pretty. The face of control.

The gazed back at the crowd, lifting his drink again. "Again, enjoy the party everyone. Let us celebrate this new beginning, and remember the past we adore so dearly. Cheers!" He turned to his wife, kissing her knuckles again and whispering a kiss to her ear as well.

"I'll find you later. Don't worry about me," he hummed to her. His dagger-gaze returned to Prometheus and he snatched the man's sleeve.

"Drawing room. Now."

 

[BELIAL.]

APHRODITE, goddess of sex + desire
location: the maritime mention: TYPE (eros) RayPurchase (heph) ailurophile (peithos)
​

The day had gone fairly well for Aphrodite, once she started back into the business mode of things. The new shipments off the freshly dead bus turned out to be somewhat of a challenge, but willing and broken down to be dancers and waitresses after a few hours of showing the allure of The Golden Apple. They could be taunted and tempted into this night-life, or they could be thrown onto the street. The ones that came to her were there for a reason; if they were anyone else they'd be better off in Elysia slumming it with the other roaming souls. It was that, or the Underworld. She was sure to emphasize this point to the women, and after her description of her Uncle's terrifying abode, they sweated into compliance.

She was sure to dress up to the nines for Poseidon's party. Hair perfectly curled and bouncing around her cleavage. The red and black dress she wore was pointed at the cowl, exposing a decolletage only visible when she dipped her chest or by someone taller than her. One leg was cut out of the dress, visible when she extended the pale appendage out. The heels she wore were severe as well, tall and sharp. Little red painted toes were exposed. She absolutely adored mortal fashion, especially the more 'avant garde' runway looks. There was something about the shapes and the silhouettes that made her feel powerful, and worshiped.

She made a few phone calls at some point too on the limo ride to the party, reminding a few choice gods and goddesses of the positive relationship that Aphrodite had with them. Just a pleasant reminder, a lovely re-acquainting chat; nothing ulterior whatsoever. That was when she had the gall to finally check her phone and see the missed calls. Heph, just as she thought. She rolled her eyes, pressing a few buttons and pressing the phone to her ear. She listened, letting her stomach curdle at his words. He insinuated they should put on a 'face' together at the party... pretending to be a happy couple?

The idea was ludicrous to her, and she all but called him back to yell at him over the phone.

But the gears began to click in her head, and as she tapped the phone with her long nails, she considered the idea a bit more than her usual antics would allow her. There was some reason to Heph's request, but from Aphrodite's perspective. They were a product of Zeus' intervention, and it would be so honourable to honour him in that way. Not many people would care, assuming the broad was looped to carry her immobile cousin around, but to the Olympian family perhaps sympathetic gazes would be turned in that way. To sweat her way through the ranks and making enemies would be an Aphrodite special, but to play a different game this time? To start a new brand of trouble; the ignorant and innocent type?

Why, that was positively intoxicating.

She looked at Eros in the car, studying his face. She looked over at Peithos as well, the pretty thing she was.

She opted to look back out the window, not voicing her new decision.

-

The party was droll, and at least Poseidon had bothered to decorate a bit. She liked the smothering lights of a night-club and the neon disco-haze, but sometimes it was fun to play contemporary and classy. At least it was themed.

Arriving in she let Eros and Peithos do their own things, slinking off as Poseidon began a grand speech, she searched the crowd before she set eyes on him. A lusty gaze swept her face and a smirk crossed her lips. She strutted over, grabbing a fruit kebab of sorts from a passing waiter.

Hephaestus, seeming so out of place in his poor suit. He seemed to have cleaned up a bit for the event, but she hadn't recalled really how much he had changed in the past week. Often, the goddess did not visit their 'home'. It was not solely because she loathed the presence of her invalid husband, but the sweltering heat of his basement forge made her skin crawl. She hated being trapped, and feeling confined. It was just adding insult to injury how much she abhorred the residence.

The strawberry in her mouth felt a bit sour as she thought of what to say to him. Would she jump into her ruse immediately, or warm up him to her advances. It had been weeks, but no more than three, since she'd seen him last. Some would say she was an awful wife. Aphrodite would say yes that's true, but consider I'm wed to a walking rejection.

Grinning, she saddled up next to the god. Licking at the hunks of fruity flesh on the stick, she gazed over and up at him. He wasn't terribly taller than her, and nothing at all like the authority that Ares commanded. He was quite pathetic looking, actually.

"Suit looks nice on you darling, but green is more your colour. Next time we'll get you something more your style... and your fit," she eyed him up and down. No, stop criticizing him. Just for a moment.

She cleared her throat a bit, leaning toward him. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I missed ya hon. After Zeus, I figured you'd want your space. Don't hate me for it, will ya?" She batted her lashes at him, throwing a pout on her lips. Her ruby red lips. Her face was a bit pink as well, and she had no clue where the flush was coming from. She never felt intimidated to be around Heph. He was weak, less-than. She was so much more... but now, in this moment, she was worried he wouldn't buy her pity.

Aphrodite slipped a hand onto his arm, stroking his forearm with her hand. Her pout melted into a sweet, girly smile. "I'll make it up to ya. Promise."

 

[TYPE]

A | N | U | I | B | S
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AT POSEIDON'S PARTY
INTERACTION - HADES - RayPurchase
MENTION - PROMETHEUS - High5ives
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There was a delicate difference between living and existing that he felt too many people failed to appreciate. Then again, he could not fault many of them for their ignorance. How could they know better, when there were so few equipped to teach them? Perhaps he had overstepped in the past, being so very... active in the lives of those who would follow him. Anubis was, first and foremost... a guide. Nothing so mundane as the kind that leads one to a corner store or through a gallery. He traveled the footpath of only one road. Perhaps... their fear of the one destination had made them wary of him. He could understand that. Nothing he could not... forgive. They were mortal after all. Their lives moved only in one direction. It would make sense that they see a path and only understand it for one of its purposes. Its destination.

But again... he was a god. And he saw the path not for that alone. A path could be walked both ways. As long as someone had the wit to turn around. A path could have meaning in itself. The journey could mean just as much, if not more.

And despite what so many have come to believe.... He was not evil.

Yes he wanted a good... proper death for all who should die. But he wanted more than that. He wanted them to have a good start on their path. He wanted them to have a good journey. After all... he was... is... remains... A good guide.

Which was why it pained him so... to see them exist. Death meant nothing without a life lived. A life filled with purpose. Whether having gained it from a god, or some perhaps vocation... whether gained from conflict, or hope, or strife... Whether gained from love... An existence without meaning meant a death without purpose. An emptiness. A failure for reality to actualize upon itself.

People should not just exist. As a god... he felt... if he had any purpose... it was to ensure that people understood that. It was what gave him meaning. It was what he was. What he was supposed to be. It was what the mortals were forgetting. After years of loyalty...

Yet... here he was. Not among mortals. Among gods. Terrifyingly beautiful and resplendent in their avarice. And so many of them... existed. He could not, for all his power and wisdom see life in them. They were... purposeless. Desperate for distraction. For noise. For conflict.

Was that what his murderer had looked for?

He could see the man in his mind still. The God. Destroyed of form and stripped of dignity.

Had another found some sense of... purpose in the act? Or had the murder been just another distraction?

The party had been going on around the dark, brooding hound of death, as he stared into his drink, seeing all the hopes and dreams he had placed upon his shoulders swirl around in the golden mixture. It made him nostalgic. As gold always did. Like a sunset upon the Nile, bathed in all the affections a young god can ever dream of, the fellucca gracefully moving across the dark waters, the sun turning it golden, the final blessings of the day before the long night.

He missed his father.

What a childish thing to think? For one such as himself. So old... to remember the man in such... an affectionate manner. Aiutu... Baba... Father...

As the gods spoke loudly beyond his mood, Anubis watched as a clear drop of liquid joined that already collected in his glass. It glistened like starlight and he felt himself diminish in seeing it. Another. Another... Till he had to reach up and feel along his cheeks. His fingers came away with light glistening along the tips.

It had been an age since he had cried at a funeral... It felt... wrong to do so at one held for a Greek.

The last time had been for... Osiris.

Biting down on the inside of his cheek, he only nodded as Hades left him in the darkest corner of the room. Too preoccupied with his own musings to hear the challenge. To hear the Titan call on Poseidon's faults. And then Hades's interruption. He felt Hades return to him, in what felt like only a moment later. It made him nervous... his closeness with the man. He understood him... But he was so foreign to him. In his heart he distrusted the dynamic. He was young. And powerful. And Greek... And with everyday he grew greater Anubis waned into nothing. Yet perhaps none other in this or any world could understand the purpose of death as greatly as he... It felt like betrayal to place any trust in him.

Then again... trust was a weakness he had anyway. He had trusted many people. And lost them before of it.

Clearing his face before the man returned, Anubis smiled up at him, downing his drink.

"The fire... yes. I see your brother is very much in the vein of putting out fires." His eyes followed Prometheus as he was to be escorted out by the sea god. "Will he survive this? While I am not overly fond of the man... I would hate to have to bury him. He represents an age past. I feel a small sense of kinship there. Despite myself." His eyes returned to Hades, his smile slipping somewhat. "You have tasted the waters now. What is your judgement?" He reached for another drink, despite knowing he had already perhaps had enough. "I thank you... and your wife for escorting me this evening. I would not have come if not for your... presence." Sipping at the strong liquid, again... too fast, he peered over the crowd. "I have been thinking too much of my death. Too much about meaning. Purpose. These are thoughts that come to one near the end." Again, finishing the drink, he peered at Hades. "And... if I am to die, I would rather not do it here. In this gaudy, tasteless shithole of your kin." His eyes widened, suddenly, as if he had not meant the ire. "I... forgive me." A soft, distracted smile crawled over his face. "I have been spending too much time with you." A soft, weak shrug. "What I meant was... I would rather die in the house of my father. If I could choose my end."​

 

[RayPurchase]

Hades

Posideon's Party

​

Hades chuckled as Prometheus was near enough dragged away by his brother. There weren’t any obvious signs mind you, know heavies roughing him up and bundling him into a darkened backroom away from observant eyes and ears, but the subtle tug of the sleeve and that whitened toothy smile were all the clues that were needed. His brother was pissed off, Prometheus, with all the grace and tact of an eagle ripping out your liver, had blundered his way through the carefully weaved tapestry of political machinations and honeyed words. There was also most likely a healthy degree of anger directed at Hades, he had swooped in on the chaos, stealing Posiedon’s momentum and taking the glory for himself, presenting himself as the protector of civility and the natural Greek order of things. And he of course allowed a few blows to be thrown Posiedon’s way, not enough to draw blood mind you, but enough to make sure he knew this wasn’t going to be the walk in the park that he had envisaged.

“My brother is very good at putting out fires, only problem is that he’ll end up sending a tsunami where a rain shower would do enough to quench the embers, and so leave an entirely new set of problems and devastation in its wake… if we allow him to go unchecked that is,”

His eyes tracked Prometheus across the room. The poor relic, not yet useless as many would cry out, but surely lacking a purpose, a bygone instrument of an era now fully swamped by the mists of time. Zeus had made sure of that. Imprisonment, banishment and erasure of truths. All that was left was the Greek’s tale, and Hades had heard enough from the Titans in his care to see the loose threads in that story, that could be picked apart, teased away from the main body and followed to something as close to the truth as possible. Certainly much closer than the commonly held truths. Of course this was strictly against ‘the rules’, even though part of his own domain the Titans holding cells were Zeus’ mandate, Hades was only supposed to make sure they didn’t escape from them. But he had long since spread his influence to these last independent underground vestiges, they were once again part of the fold. Besides, the King was dead. He took a sip of champagne, the gentle stinging of the bubbles washing over his palate.

“He’s a tough one. He survived the Titanomachy, gifting fire to mortals, and having his liver removed daily. If there was anyone who I would bet money on standing up in Poseidon’s own home and calling him out so, Posiedon would offer a very poor return on the betting slip. He’s old, but he’s as tough as nails, many have tried to snuff his fire out, but they’ve all been burnt and the fire rages on,”

He waved a hand in Anubis direction at his thanks. The old dog was too polite for his own good. In some respects the Jackal had been subsumed by the Man, over time both the bark and bite had faded and dulled. Slowly slipping down the ranks, a dying pantheon retreating inwards.

“I won’t hear a word of it. Besides Persephone is always complaining that we never have the chance to entertain someone with a pulse, or is at least alive in so much as we are. And our conversations always get the neurons firing. This for example,”

He swept his glass around the room encompassing it all.

“I’d say by the look of it the waters are filled with gems, food, wine, endless bounty. The message is to just be swept up in it all, enjoy the ride as the tide sweeps you away. Of course there’s the question of where this tide will sweep us to, we have no control of whether it takes us to the promised cornucopia, or smashes us against the rocky shores, food for the fish,”

Ah yes here it was. That which is feared by all gods, more so even than the violent death suffered by Zeus. The long death, forgotten and fading, your name spoken by dwindling numbers, rights left forgotten and unperformed, prayers no longer called in your name, not even a candle burning for you in some dusty temple. He placed an arm around Anubis’ shoulder, guiding him towards one of the windows.

“It is a gaudy, tasteless, shithole isn’t it. Sounds like a familiar description, you didn’t pull it from one of my private rants did you? Do not fear my friend, I would not see you fade from this world like some common nymph or minor deity. You are Anubis,” He jabbed a finger into his chest. “The Jackal, The Embalmer, The Protector of Tombs and The Dead.’He Who is Upon the Mountain’, ‘Lord of the Sacred Land’ and ‘Guardian of the Scales’, your names are many and your deeds are great,”

Hades voice was just a whisper. But there was heat behind them, matched in his eyes as they bored into Anubis’ own.

“We head towards a new time, a new journey, a new time. Where falls can be arrested, summits toppled, and the deepest depths thrust ever higher. Posiedon has seen this already, hence the gaudy shithole he was shepherded us into, thrusting his vision upon us. But his vision is much like the old one, just more refined, the shit stains covered in silk and perfume. But I see all sorts of possibilities, a whole new world even. In which every dog will have his day. Right now it is just a dream, speak its name and it will turn to dust lost in the winds. But with time to grow and to flourish, it can shape our very reality,”

(Mention: ailurophile Persephone, High5ives Prometheus, BELIAL. Poseidon
Interaction: TYPE Anubis)

 

[TYPE]

A | N | U | I | B | S

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
AT POSEIDON'S PARTY
INTERACTION - HADES - RayPurchase
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There was little Anubis could do. The god next to him, thinking himself kind was lashing at his soul with each gentle word of comfort. Invoking his names as if in doing so he could return the light to them. Have the sun bathe them again in its splendor. How could he think to promise such things? As if they were still for him? Change came swiftly yes... But hardly did it come with such speed without great cost. Was it arrogance? To think that the god of the sky was not cost enough? Was it a silent plea to fate that perhaps no good could come from the sacrifice of such a horrific beast. That... disgusting rapist that crowned himself and his avarice in this facade of civility.

Zeus's death should mean nothing. He did not deserve it.

For him, not even a pyramid of feathers could balance his scales.

Was that what he was feeling? Hoping? Even secreted unto his own soul, a silent conviction? Was that why he was dreading... but also expecting his end? Why it fluttered about his mind and his soul like some honey-suckling bird, waiting for him to cast off such sweet ideas as purpose and meaning... Arrogance did not befit him. He wore it like a second skin. One not soft and delicate upon him, but one made of barbs and stone. It weighed him down, and while it allowed him to pretend that he could still feel the world beneath his feet, it also drowned him in the base convictions he had once judged others as lesser for.

He could not afford to wish for sunlight anymore.

The Greeks had stolen even that.

No...

A Greek.

Biting the inside of his cheek, trying to steady an unsteady resolve, he took a sip of the tasteless swill they were being served.

And stood.

Thinking.

Staring past the window, seeing the darkness outside, interrupted by light - he felt the side of his mouth turn down. False light. The kind that made the lively look sickly and the sickly late to the grave. It made the bodies that moved so seductively, to music that seeked to disrupt rhythm rather than encourage it, seem more whole than they were, hiding the holes in their arms, the blood in their eyes - the base covering the relentless sniffing that came from their destructive pastimes.

Under his light. Beneath his scalpel... nothing was hidden. All of the shame of this world. For an eternity the dead had come to him, lay before him, their bodies confessing their sins. And he had forgiven them. And he had repaired them. And he had set them free. Guided them to where they should go.

Could he do so again? Did he want to?

Was that even a question? Of course he wanted to?

Enough to give up? To betray the past? To betray all that kept him from passing prior?

If he could forgive so many... could he not forgive...

He could not. Not HIM.

But he had been the killer. Not the cause. The cause was ended.

He had been a Greek.

A Greek.

"You ascribe unto me too high a praise." He turned his eyes to those reflected of Hades, watching them for a moment in the glass. "I... am glad you are not them." He turned his eyes away, looking down towards the ground. "Every fiber of my being would have me cast your concerns and your support aside." The words were bitter in his mouth. "Trust. It carries such a high price." He placed the glass down on the window sill, clearing his throat. "I could pay it so easily before."

He needed to stop talking.

"But trust is made of two things I am running short of. Time and power." He nodded to Poseidon. "If you have power, you can afford trust, because you can afford betrayal. You can survive it." He nodded then to the rest of the room. "Or... you could pay in time. Take your time. Learn. Explore. Understand, and let the expectation of loyalty settle into your mind." Again leaning towards the window, he placed his forehead against the cool glass. "I am conflicted..."

His breath layered the glass in a thin sheet of vapor.

"Am I wrong? To trust you? I don't have the power... Or the time... We have spent comparatively little of it. I can't help but imagine that the reason I feel this... kinship. Unexpected as it may be..." His voice took on an unbelieving quality, as if he could not understand the situation. As if it all were some con he could not decipher. "Is it the quality of your person? Or are you pulling the wool in front of my eyes. Is this some grand irony? That YOU should be convincing ME of your good worth?"

His forehead frowned against the glass, his eyes closing as if he could cut the world away in shadow. "I don't hate you, Hades. I should. Or... I believed I should." He turned around, leaning against the window. He stayed quiet for a few seconds. "I spent forever judging worthiness. I trusted myself to judge it. And I have judged you... unintentionally. And I have found you good. And suddenly my insufferable unchangeability strangles me. My loyalty..." Unintentionally, biting down on his lip, he hid his head against the glass behind him, cracking the window. "My damn loyalty... To the past. To the present. To the future, strangles me like a leash. And I am rendered paralyzed." His eyes closed once more, cutting off the party. "I don't want to be evil. And there are few evils so terrible as the betrayal of friends."

Another moment of quiet.

Another.

Another.

"How easy it is to betray a stranger when you don't know the depth of your future trust. How easy the lies come..."

His hands, clasped in front of him, shook faintly.

"I am... sorry..."​

 

[RayPurchase]

Hephaestus - The Party

​

Heph sipped at the beer. Watery and tasteless, but he wasn’t really surprised, if anyone was going to be watering down drinks then surely it would have been his uncle the god of the sea. He was uncomfortable to say the least, and he looked it, stiff and furtive in the rather plain grey suit, the only colour coming from the flaming red tie around his neck, a drab being amongst the gods and mythical creatures. He’d finally gotten around to removing the beard, and he was now somewhat presentable, having shaken the crack den chique he had been channeling for the last few days.He should have stayed at home, located another bottle of Dionysus’ unattended supply and drowned his sorrows in a sea of ambrosia.

Aph had clearly not received, or more than likely received and subsequently ignored his message. He was stood to one side of the room, leaning against the wall as he watched to goings on from afar. He could probably slip out relatively quickly, once the speeches and posturing were done. HIs uncles had been in full flow. Poseidon like some overinflated puffer fish, and Hades speaking riddles and half truths, between the two of them it left his head spinning and no closer to any real idea of what either of them really wanted to achieve. This is why he preferred machines, they didn’t lie, they didn’t do roundabouts or try and deceive you. They’re black and white, they have a purpose, they fulfill their purpose they move on. There’s no weird dynamics, they don’t try and hurt you or go back on their word. He took another sip of the near tasteless beverage, more of a reflex action now than getting any real joy from it. The lip of the bottle was hovering near his mouth, and that’s when he saw her, making a beeline towards him.

He should have felt angry, allowed the volcano to bubble and rage, to blow its top. He had reasons to, every reason. But in the warm glow of her approaching presence, the heat was subdued and cooled. A vision in red, the petals to the stem, Like a ruined flower desperately craning its leaves towards the distant sunlight he drank in her presence. He straightened himself up as best as he could, or as best as his right foot would allow him, most of the support coming from the can grasped in his right hand. What he would give to unmake the wound, Gods could reverse their ageing, or accelerate it, change their features and appearance on a whim, and recover from wounds that for a mortal would be truly grievous. But there was no healing this, not that he knew of, the twisted right leg was part of him, there at his birth, and would be a part of him until the end, a permanent reminder of the twisted thing he was in the eyes of his family. And he had been left behind, the only good thing to come about in his life has turned into a curse. Love was wild and untraceable, to control it was like trying to hold back the tide. And it hurt, by the gods it hurt. He should have been angry. But love was addictive, a sweet addictive cocktail.

The scowl he had been wearing melted away as she spoke to him. One bat of those eyelashes and the funk that had been choking and obscuring his mind were blown away in the breeze. He placed his left hand on the square of her back, the rough texture of his workman’s hands against the soft alabaster skin. Opposites attracting, a cliche but one he kept on telling himself existed. His face creased into a smirk, lines creasing along his face, the frown lines morphing into the laughter and smile lines that lay beneath. It had been the first time he’d smiled in too long.

“I’m glad to hear that, I… I missed you too, the place has felt empty without you, far too vast and lifeless,”

His other hand came up, gently resting against her chin and cheek as he looked into her eyes, the sorrow and pain clearing away, like clouds after a storm to reveal the pinky skies behind them. He was only the monster that they made him.

“Course I don’t hate you, how could I ever hate you?”

There were many reasons, for hating her, for hating himself, for hating the whole bloody lot of them. But right now with her by his side once more, he didn't want to ruin this moment, to scrap and feud over what had been done or said.

‘Promise’

There had been many of those, from both of them. To be there, to be more, to give more, or less. Scrapped and left by the wayside, like the twisted broken automata that littered his Forge. But all it took was one, one promise kept, the foundation of something that could rise higher than the tops of that thrice cursed Olympus. Her fingers against his arm almost sent a shock through his system, it had been too long since he had felt her touch.

“We could just leave now. Ditch this lot and their endless roundabout speeches and maneuvering. Make the night ours eh? Like it was back in the beginning,”

(Interaction: BELIAL. )

 

[bad wolf]

Víðarr, silent god of vengeance.
Location: The Maritime​

There was a time before the war where he grew restless, the calm before the storm expect the calm lasted an eternity. In his youth he'd gotten into endless trouble quarreling with his brothers, attempting to catch up with his father's drinking, and partaking in battles he'd no business being in. He'd spoken many words then, not all of them purposeful. They'd no aim or reason, no belonging. Half the time, they weren't even his to own. They were things he'd heard others say in passing, ideas that struck his fancy or metaphors that were kind to the ear and thus worth repeating. He'd thought himself a poet at one point, a poet soldier spewing meaningless words about with every swing of his sword. Something vaguely beautiful, blissfully stupid, and oblivious to that dreadful destiny the norns had insisted on him carrying.

They said he'd survive the war and be among the first to welcome the new Norse pantheon. He'd be apart of a long peace after the destruction of near everything that was ever dear to him. The big dogs would eat their fill of the world and the gods would try to prevent that happening and they'd fail miserably... Himself included. The only victory he might truely claim was tearing Loki's son in two, stepping first on the beast's lower jaw and lifting high on his upper till the skin split around its lips. The sickening sweet stench of death rising from Fenrisúlfr's stomach would consume every last ounce of sympathy Vidar had left to give.

Standing aside and alone at Poseidon's estate, slightly more separated from reality, Vidar savored another glass of wine. Despite the noise, he found himself content in having found stiller waters. There was a murmur from the crowd every now and then, split only by venom and glass. The gods pranced around and performed, playing their part in a play which would turn on and on for all time. Even Vidar and his brethren had a part to play and much to give, every drop of sweat and trying breath committed to that which could never be final.

What had the old god said? A new light. Beautiful poetry with unfathomable meaning, the words meant more to him than any god or creature could understand. How kind would it be if they could all speak with as much clarity as he did now. They could say everything they ever wanted to with a look. Smiling around his glass, Vidar knocked back the rest of his wine and sought after another as a servant wandered by. He could very well drown in it, forget the rest of the night and try to enjoy himself.

"We bleed vengeance, you and I."

He felt an arm hook around his before he even heard her voice. Looking down, he met a wild banshee's glassy, green stare. Clad in a starling blue suit, it shimmered and danced every time she moved. Blinking, he looked up and around, registering just enough to know that the conversation had left for someplace more private. His jaw tightened; his eyes were downcast.​

"You'd gone away, hm?" She studied his face for a moment, looking hard for something he couldn't figure. "Seems we all have." She looked back out over the floor, to Poseidon's retreating figure and the titan he had in tote. "You'd think they'd make like us a little... Avenge the old fool first, but it seems they'd rather be opportunists." A long sigh drifted through her parted lips. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. Do they even have a god of vengeance?"

His brows raised slightly.

"Of course they do... Who am I kidding?" She smiled brightly before steeling her expression. "How are you fairing?"

Looking back down at his empty drink, he watched a drop of wine wind about as he turned the glass in his hand.

"Nevermind that. I'm just full of stupid questions tonight." Taking the glass from his hand, Morrigan set it on a passing tray. Turning gracefully, she swept up another drink. "I'm looking for-" She offered him the drink carefully, "A very specific brand of war. Its got hellfire hair and Monroe hips... And it's probably looking pretty angry on the account of me having flirted rather openly with a couple mermaids." Fixing him with a pointed look, she pressed her lips into a guilty smile and stole another drink for herself without breaking eye contact.

Vidar huffed a short sigh and shook his head.

"Thought not. Brigid's probably sulking in a corner somewhere. Or maybe she's on the terrace. You think Poseidon's got one? A terrace or the balcony... Someplace dramatic, for sure." Bringing the glass to her lips, she paused. "I think I embarrassed her," Morrigan murmured. She took a hard drink and shuddered, not at all thrilled by the bitter taste. She was quiet for a long moment. "Where do you think Hera is?" There was no concern in her tone. She merely pondered the answer dismissively, the faintest bit disappointed about something.

Vidar fought the urge to tense, to break another of Poseidon's glasses. Cracked and shattered, at this rate the sea god would have none to spare. Trying to mask his discomfort, Vidar took a drink, the smile having left his face a while back. If there was any god or goddess he still feared, it was Zeus' widow.

"Alas!" The goddess beamed. "There she is." Vidar stood still as stone. Slowly looking over the room, he spied Brigid and relaxed. She eyed Morrigan dangerously. "Ohhh... She's seething. Can you see the steam, Vidar? I had best go speak to her," Morrigan whispered. "It's not wise to leave a patron of war angry at you." Taking a step forward, she turned to face him. Leaning onto her toes, she kissed his cheek and backed away. She looked as though she wanted to say something. Her brows knitted and she looked sad for a moment as her eyes went down to the floor and back up to his face. "Be careful, won't you?"

Vidar smiled kindly and nodded, watching her turn and walk away. The blue of her suit shined and turned purple. It met with the red of Brigid's hair and, together, they left through a doorway, melting into the sea.​