Realistic or Modern Project Myth

[Epyk]

Project Myth

Okay, so I remember seeing this rp idea and I don't remember if it was on this site or another site, but I never got to participate in it. Regardless, it was still very interesting. So if this was originally your idea PLEASE DON'T SUE ME I'LL GIVE YOU CREDIT JUT LET ME KNOW k thx you may now proceed.

Gods are just myths, right? Right?​

From the beginning of time, different gods, deities, and animistic religions have been believed for hundreds of thousands of people. Communities of different people, all united under their unconditional faith in their gods. However, over the years, animism has continued to decline and the want and desire for more scientific explanations were needed.

It is now 2018, and science and technology are bigger than ever, with new advancements being made almost every day it seems like. Animistic gods are generally only talked about in class to explain world history. However, on one fateful day, it seems like these aged gods are now the only ones who can save us.

Plot Explanation

Since 2007, animistic gods from different cultural mythologies including Greek, Roman, Norse, Celtic, Chinese, Japanese, Mayan, and Egyptian gods were discovered, roaming the earth, disguised as humans. Since their discovery, the U.S. government created Project MYTH to house these gods and used them from anti-terrorism techniques, to helping buddies with their love lives. However, their real identities were kept a secret to the public. These gods were permitted to travel the world and with that, different project MYTH headquarters have been set up across the globe in the countries of origins of their mythologies. At the end of 2017, headquarters were located in: Washington D.C for the Greek gods, Rome for Romans, Stockholm for Norse, Dublin for Celtic, Beijing for Chinese, Osaka for Japan, Mexico City for Mayans, and Cairo for Egyptians. If you're wondering, Athens was reserved for kind of a back-up headquarters just in case something bad was going to happen.

In 2010, however, a threat was pinged in Jerusalem, Isarel. Discovered by the Greek God Hermes on a scouting for more disguised gods, Hermes found Hades in Jerusalem, conjuring up something... bad. Since 2010, Hermes has never been seen again. Many gods have went out on a search for him, but each one came up short with absolutely no clues or leads to help. Many gods have went directly to Hades for answers, but no questions were answered. Although Hades continued to be shady, he was never punished because there was nothing to prove.

Gods continued to find other gods, help improved the world unnoticed, and even tried to pursue and live normal lives as normal people. On December 29, 2017, however, a package was received at the Washington D.C. headquarters: Hermes' shoes accompanied with his head. Almost positive this was the work of Hades, all the gods hunted him down in order to destroy him. With their powers combined, Hades was destroyed and the gods returned to their homes, unknowingly releasing one of the biggest battles the world would ever experience.

Hades, being envious of his brothers Zeus and Poseidon for receiving the better parts of the known world, Hades decided to take control for himself and promised that he would conquer the world and demand domination. When Hades went to Jerusalem, he summoned the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Conquest/Pestilence, War, Famine, and Death. Realizing that one day the gods would discover his plan, Hades cursed himself so that when he would been destroyed, he knew it would be the perfect time to release the Horsemen.

Rules

[/div]

code/design by Fable

- At Least 2 Paragraphs per post
- Yes, we're powerful, but if we're battling the bad guys (or maybe even each other ), please don't be like super duper over-powered and discuss with the person you're fighting with if you are battling
- As proven by Hades, you can die
- Please be detailed in your posts
- Have fun!!!

 

[Epyk]

Scene I:
Calm Before the Storm​

 

[Epyk]

It was just as normal as any other day. The morning coffee, long commute, school for the young ones, and the gods roaming the world, helping anyone they could. Of course, though, the humans didn't realize that. The gods have been hidden by the government since their discovery in 2007, but since then, they've been real life superheroes. They stopped terrorism, world wars, and little deeds like cleaning up the trashed streets. Although they enjoyed praise, they were given in for the past centuries, so giving back to the humans for some years couldn't hurt. Headquarters were set-up all around the worlds to make sure everyone around the globe got a taste of the action. It was a joyous time and lacked the polluted crime.

However, the fateful day came where the peace wouldn't last for long. Hades began the summoning the unthinkable... something... unimaginable that would bring the world to its knees. Soon after, a special package was delivered to the U.S. headquarters: the head and shoes of the great god Hermes. Shocked and disgusted, the combined forces of the gods destroyed Hades. After that, life began to go on...

It is here where our journey begins. What has Hades summoned? How did the gods react? How could Hades do such a thing? Only time will tell how the life of the gods were affected by Hades' actions... and what's in store for the gods soon...

 

[Blu]

Location: ???​

Do the gods dream? And if so, what would they dream about? I've pondered that for the longest time. So, one day I was curious. And I peeked into the dream of a god. And what I found was absolutely... unremarkable. They lord themselves over mortal men and yet in the seascape of the dreaming realm, their minds produce the same cacophonous white noise. Nebulous manifestations of desires and anxieties. And that's when the realization turned to bitter ash in my mouth. If we, too, can dream, does that mean one day we'll...

Space. Vast, white, empty space that extends to infinity. A man dressed entirely in white clothing paces this space. He is well-lit and casts a single shadow—his only friend in this empty, incandescent void. In the waking world, this man goes by the name of Elias Carter, but in this dreamscape—in his domain—he is Morpheus, the god of dreams. His seemingly aimless wandering brings him to an antique phonograph record player atop a marble and mahogany pedestal. The single record begins to play on its own.

‹ BGM: Mr. Sandman ›​

Morpheus closes his eyes and when he opens them again, he is now surrounded by millions of people dressed entirely in white talking to one another at the same time, creating a chorus of chaotic, indiscernible speech. Despite the chorus of chaos, Morpheus can tell what each person is saying: they are describing in full detail their individual dreams. Each person surrounding Morpheus is, in reality, asleep and dreaming. He turns his head to an old woman and tunes out the rest of the noise. "I'm dreaming that my late husband, Phillip, is still with me to enjoy the company of our newborn grandson, Kyle. Phillip is talking softly to Kyle and smiling in joy. I'm by the fireplace, sitting in my favorite high chair watching them-" Without so much as a change in facial expression, Morpheus turns his head back forward and the chorus of chaos resumes.

What happens next is a montage of Morpheus examining the dreams of various individuals like he did the old woman. "I'm dreaming I'm a knight fighting a giant fire-breathing giraffe," "I'm dreaming of drowning in the Caspian Sea," "I'm dreaming about being on a date with a famous porn star," Noise, noise, and more noise! Then a single utterance grasps Morpheus' attention as the record stops playing. "Help... me..." He looks into the distance and sees a man bleeding in his white clothes. This is no normal dreamer. The chorus tunes out and Morpheus snaps his fingers. The dreamscape around him transforms into a dark environment. A man lays bleeding on the ground in front of him. "H-Help... me..." He knows this man. "Hermes...?" Morpheus utters in confusion at the scene. Then, behind the bleeding man forms a dark figure that Morpheus is unable to make out in detail.

Holding what appears to be a formless sword to the sky, the dark figure proceeds to brutally decapitate the bleeding man, sending a splash of crimson blood onto Morpheus' white clothing. The god of dreams is both shocked and speechless. He yells the name "Hermes" but no sound escapes his lips. Then...

Elias opens his eyes and finds himself on a public bus in Washington DC. He groggily wipes his face and eyes with his right hand. "D'ya had a sweet dream?" Elias looks to the source of the question and sees a young woman sitting in the seat in front of him at the back of the bus; she's his dead mortal lover. "Define 'sweet'," he says, tired. "Oh ya know: puppies, a field of daisies, dudes gettin' their heads chopped off." "How'd you know that?" "Do you still not get how this works, babe? I'm practically living inside that messed up little noggin of yours. I know everything. Everything." She ends her sentence with a sinister little smirk. Elias is quiet at first. "Hermes' been dead for a while, but this dream... It's trying to tell me something new," he says to no one in particular. A few seats forward, a couple of high school students are giving Elias weird looks. "Who the hell is that guy talking to?" "Weirdo."

Sometime later, Elias arrives at his apartment complex: a run down little three-story building that's home to some questionable characters. Not a place that one would imagine a god would call "home". Elias climbs the stairs and heads inside his one-bedroom apartment. The place is a mess. He takes a seat on his old couch and attempts to process what he saw in the dreaming realm concerning Hermes' death. Hades has been dealt with so why is this dream coming to him again?

 

[Zaltusinel]

Macha, Queen of Phantoms

Location: Northern France

State of being: Exploring her property and performing rite of passing

Nearby: None

@'s: Epyk

The Paths of Souls​

Crisp, fresh air always enlightened the being, the tender feeling of serenity flowing through the body into the soul. Whispering pines of Northern France echo over the landscape, the mountains and hills sweet curves over the gentle breeze; a world at peace, a calm so soothing, so suspicious. One with Life and Death themselves, Macha steadied a deep breath and placed the candles over the large clearing she found. A clearing she needed, or more preferred. Gently lowering herself to place each candle precisely in place. Flame passed to the candle instantly, a ghastly flame. A flame long dead, long used ago. Azure of sea, of lost sky, of determination; the flames danced as they appeared to the summons. The last candle in place by a shiny, tall rock. A rock molded and weathered to resemble a pillar, a pedestal of ancient times.

The sun had begun to set, to begin another rest from the great day. So normal, so peaceful; too normal, too peaceful. The beasts and terrors that stalked the night and the wicked souls laid low. Her wards amongst the townspeople have been pressured. A curse, an ancient thing walked by. Daring not to near her, the curse laid just outside her command, her reach. She spoke not, she faced the candle on the pedestal. Her hands laid out, with her arms fully extended. A crowd of ravens circled over the clearing, silent and black as nightshade.

Lights approached from within the ground, moving in ocean current patterns to and from the candles. A haunting teal radiated from the ground, cinders of the ghost flames rose to the sky, falling again onto the ground. Igniting and spreading blue flame everywhere except where the ground glowed teal light. The ravens flew to her arms, perching and eyeing the high candle. Slowly, a hum entered the clearing, sounds of mystical taste entered. Macha waited only briefly, waiting for the songs of souls to enter before she echoed the ancient chant. The flames intensified, the light flowed through the air as souls of the world entered. Their light swirling around the scene, reaching the top and fading into the sky. Macha looked around her, peering around. Her month shaped to anger, her eyes furrowed as she felt odd souls. Souls whom would not come to her. As she descended back into darkness, she looked to those who would not come. The direction she felt, so fuzzy yet clear where. Maybe Hades' doing? Maybe not. Either way, she dispersed the candles into the wind, walking out into the pale moonlight.

"Souls running away? A peace short lived, a day mired in the fears of tomorrow." She had heard the news, from Alan, whom flew to Dublin when she paid a visit to the city. His eyes hers, his ears hers. Hermes dead. Through the decoys, phantoms, and overall trickery; she remained undiscovered. However, her rite of passing surely grabbed the attention of the gods. A rite so unique, so different that someone noticed. This time, Macha knew. She knew that she needed to be found. She closed her eyes. The phantom world opened, releasing into the eyes of death. At the edge, at the event horizon of her power, she felt a small tug. A small dip in her "domain", she smiled and furrowed her eyes.

"Hades, what have you done. I thought you had some sense. Maybe I was wrong, maybe not all of us have the control and stability to undertake the strain of our work. Yet, you linger no longer. Now I wonder, who is it that takes control of the territory we babbled about amongst ourselves. Our domains over death partial and fair. Now, your done and I am remaining. Anubis and I remain. Hmm... now what should I do?" She raised her hand slowly, before smiling. "I'll pay a visit. Maybe Dublin first? Yes, then D.C."

 

[Ineptitude]

Goddess of Retribution
Rome
​

Mia's eyes swept over the document laid flat on her desk, as if considering options. It was a gesture she'd learnt to perform in order to placate potential clients who were likely to display high emotions on being rejected. You'd be surprised by the number of people came in with the most unbelievable sob stories, and she loathed them for it. She had not been born a goddess just to mop up disasters of people's own making- even if she would have been paid handsomely for her service. This girl with her tenth grade education thought she could hook a high end lawyer by batting her eyes and telling a tall tale, tiresome really.

She glanced up, ever-so-serious and stoic, "I've been over the numbers, and though we fervently desire justice for your brother, we cannot proceed without our fee being met." The girl crumpled like a balloon with a slow leak, then just when the lawyer thought she would go she stood up and promptly fainted on the highly polished floor.

Chocolate brown eyes stared blankly at the unconscious girl that lay on her office floor, before a deep sigh escaped ruby painted lips. Turning her head to the small machine on the corner of her desk, she calmly pushed a button upon the device, opening her mouth to speak, "Timoteo, please escort Miss Bellucci out of my office." It was not soon after that a young man silently stepped into the room, and upon gathering up the fainted woman into his arms, left as quickly as he came. From how nonchalant he was, one could only assume that such a sight was common in her law firm.

Now that she was completely alone within her office, Mía leaned back into her seat, allowing herself to relax, if only for a moment. Raising an open palm, she quietly watched as an orb formed within her hand, crackling with red and black energy. Within that orb was a vision of a man sitting despondently on the hard mattress of his prison cell. She could not defend the female's brother as a lawyer, there was no mistaking it. That didn't mean, however, that she couldn't do so as the diety of justice. "May you be protected from injustice, Dino Bellucci." Her voice, though a whisper, echoed with an otherworldly power as she allowed for the energy to dissipate into the air. "... Unlike how I had failed to protect Hermes."

 

[Generic Brooding Antihero]

APOLLO CIRLLO
31 | Greek | App​

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt!

The doorbell rang incessantly, like an irritating bee buzzing close to one’s ear. Apollo hoped that if he ignored its existence hard enough, it would go away on its own, but who was he really kidding? He hadn’t had much hope ever since late December last year.

‘Apollo, I know you’re there, and you know I’m not going anywhere, so let’s just cut to the chase, shall we?’ Sometimes he was convinced that the voice on the intercom belonged to a telepath, to some sort of deity, just as he was.

Then again, that would involve admitting that he and Sabroe were equals. Apollo wasn’t sure his ego could ever accept such an insult.

He was lying down on a leather couch -- one-of-a-kind, and imported from Italy. The flat-screen was turned on, channel set permanently on HGTV, as it had been the past couple of days. At first, Apollo had the brilliant idea to turn the volume up in order to drown out Sabroe’s voice, but the tiny blonde woman would not relent.

Apollo grabbed his phone from the coffee table. By some twist of miracle, it managed to hold onto the last bit of energy its battery could muster. He dialled Sabroe’s number.

‘You and I also both know that you’ve got keys to my flat, so your gross insistence to keep fingering my doorbell is equal parts irritating and disturbing.’

There was a groan on the other line. ‘Apollo, you disg--’

His phone died just in time, thank god. How ever could he live with his handler slash manager calling him disgusting? Unfortunately, Sarah Sabroe had always been every bit as stubborn as he was.

‘Apollo, you look pathetic.’ A familiar figure now stood in front of him, though much to her chagrin, she wasn’t quite tall enough to block his view from the TV. Sabroe had her hands on her hips. She was fast approaching her late 30’s, the deepening wrinkles on her forehead starting to make her look more like Apollo’s older sister than anything. Funny how appearances worked.

‘You need to redefine your idea of pathetic.’ Apollo did not move from where he was. ‘This tracksuit, as tacky as it may look, is Dolce and Gabbana, thank you very much, and I’m living in a multi-million dollar penthouse with Taylor bloody Swift as one of my neighbours. Truly, Sabroe. Woe is me.’

Sabroe sat down on a lounge chair beside him. A soft sigh escaped her lips, but she was not defeated just yet. ‘You know, you just lost 5,000 followers on Instagram over the past week?’

He glared at her like she’d just said something offensive.

Okay. Wrong approach.

She threw her hands up in temporary surrender. Apollo had once whined all day when he lost a couple hundred followers over some interview mishap. ‘The internet’s still a bit upset you mysteriously cancelled your tour this year.’

‘Right. Would you be a dear and tell them I’ve got my hands a bit tied up trying to come to terms with my brother’s murder? I sincerely apologise for any and all inconvenience.’

‘You know that’s not how I meant it.’ Her face was awash with genuine concern, which disturbed him more than anything. ‘Look, you just need to … you just need to get out eventually, you know? It’s been weeks, Apollo.’ Sabroe reached into her pocket, and pulled out a small leather pouch. ‘I couldn’t get … everything,’ the government wanted to experiment on the remains, but Apollo didn’t need to know that, ‘but I figured: A few locks of hair… no one’s going to notice, right?’

This, finally, worked wonders at grabbing Apollo’s attention. He sat up, forgetting himself and his pettiness, and examined the pouch himself.

‘Sabroe?’

‘Yes?’

‘You’ll come with me to Greece, wouldn’t you?’

‘Do you even have to ask?’

‘Let’s go, then.’


That same day, the pair found themselves atop Mount Cyllene. Sabroe couldn’t quite remember the last time she saw Apollo bursting with such spirit, at least off-stage. At first, she chalked it up to all that pent-up energy from weeks upon weeks holed up, grieving, but then she caught a glimpse of his face reflected on the window of an abandoned cottage at the foot of the mountain. She decided that he was, on the contrary, tired, more than anything.

He led her to a cave long-forgotten, explained to her that this was where Hermes was born, where Apollo had nearly killed him once, in fact.

‘Ah, Hermes,’ he sighed, hand fiddling with the drawstrings of the pouch, ‘I will always remember you for the little shit that you were, bragging about the most inane things, like being on a handbag.’ Apollo stood in the mouth of the cave. When a gust of wind flew in from behind him, he released the contents of the pouch, Hermes’ ashes mingling with the winds of winter.

For a moment, the particles became suspended in the daylight, dancing in trajectories that would not have agreed with the laws of physics. The smirk upon Apollo’s face fell away. He extended an arm, reaching out, half-suspecting that he might regret this. He closed his eyes. A second later, he felt a burst of wind, and then the jagged walls of the cave against his back. He heard footsteps, heard Sabroe’s voice, and then he heard nothing.

Apollo woke up just as the chopper arrived to take them back. He gasped, panicked hazel eyes trying to take in his surroundings. Sabroe, as always, was right beside him.

‘Everything okay?’

‘You know how it’s been a while since I’ve had a prophetic vision?’

Sabroe frowned, instantly picking up on the fact that whatever he was going to say, it was not going to be good. ‘Go on,’ she said anyway.

‘We should go to DC, but before we get to HQ, we need to make a detour first.’


So it went that their twenty-four hour pilgrimage found its end at the front door of a shabby, little apartment. Apollo could only imagine why a god might want to live in a place like this. It was almost tempting to deem it sacrilegious, but who was he to judge?

Apollo pressed the doorbell, pressed it repeatedly, impatiently, as many times he liked until he got what he wanted.

‘And no, the hypocrisy of my actions does not elude me,’ he said in between button presses. Sabroe had her back against the wall, shaking her head as she wore an amused grin.

‘Mate!’ Apollo called out. ‘It’s me, Apollo. Emergency, obviously. Wouldn't be caught dead in this neighbourhood otherwise. Now open up.’

Blu

 

[Reis]

Edgar stared at the city beneath his feet, his mind wandering. He had always loved this particular view of Rome where he could watch the people he fought for from a distance. It was amazing how humans were working all the time, constantly fighting just to survive the next day. That work ethic, that strength, was why he was here.

He looked like an ordinary guy at first glance. Edgar was currently wearing a black t-shirt, green camo pants, and a normal pair of dark sneakers. Any passerby would assume that he was a regular, overly fit person going on their routine afternoon jog. One would need a wild imagination to guess that Edgar was not only part of the army, but arguably the best soldier in the world.

Of course, even the person to guess that would have no way of knowing he was a god in disguise. As he looked down at the moving people below him, he felt a strange sense that something was out of place. His discomfort in a time of peace was unsurprising considering the sheer number of wars the Roman god has fought in. But over the millennia, Mars learned to trust his instincts: when he felt like his allies were endangered, it meant the time to act was soon.

Edgar finished catching his breath and continued his jog home. As he made his way closer to his apartment, the gnawing feeling in his gut grew stronger. His sense of trouble was always active in recent times, which made sense. Now that both Hades and Hermes were gone, it was a lot easier for humans to submit to death. The souls of the dead were maintained by Hades, and Hermes helped guide them to their afterlife. Without their help, human souls run rampant, swaying those around them to kill from greed, hatred, or any other unjustifiable cause.

Edgar's vigilance grew, and when he reached the height of his excitement, he saw what was causing him distress. He leaned next to the wall, watching a young man get surrounded by three others. They each held a weapon, telling the boy to give up his belongings in exchange for his life. He then watched the poor man get hurt for it anyways, and the three of them began to walk off in triumph.

Just before they walked past him, Edgar leapt from his cover to the nearest person. The man was down in one hit to the head, and the second target barely managed to ready his knife before being disarmed and kneed to the stomach. The last of them tried to take a shot with his pistol, but Edgar effortlessly dodged the poorly shot bullet and knocked him in the throat.

When he was done, he picked the stolen wallet from the floor and glanced at its owner. Edgar was thanked for his trouble, but the young man quickly left, intimidated by his iron glare. The sense of danger within his body did not leave, even though he seemed to have saved a potential victim of robbery. Ever since Hades was stopped, Edgar couldn't shake the feeling that a war was coming, one so violent and destructive that even he would struggle to save his precious people. With heavy thoughts of the future in mind, Edgar continued jogging.

 

[Blu]

"Trust in dreams, for in them is hidden the gate to eternity."​

Location: Elias' Apartment | Generic Brooding Antihero ​

Elias Carter
aka Morpheus, God of Dreams​

Elias sits, contemplating the hidden significance of the reoccurring dream concerning Hermes' death. While never anything more than a casual acquaintance, Elias did see Hermes as a kindred spirit of sorts, both of them being messengers of the gods and all. So despite his hesitation nowadays to involve himself in the business of the gods, Elias did his part in avenging Hermes by contributing to the defeat of Hades. With that said, now that Hades is no more, shouldn't the same be said for this dream?

As he thought more and more, it came. The "Whispers" as he calls it. The discordant voices of dreamers and his dead siblings of the Oneiroi. Oh how it haunts him so. It clouds his senses and mind and brings with it a sharp pain, like needles pricking at the brain. Elias buries his face into the palms of his hands as he endures the Whispers. At some point, the numerous voices all meld together and become as harsh as television static emanating from Elias' psyche. And as quickly as it comes, the voices subside. Elias places his hands back onto his lap and opens his eyes only to find himself back on the public bus from earlier. He's in the same seat and is greeted by his dead lover, Carly, once more.

"Where are we heading?" Elias asks.

"Beats me. I'm just a passenger." Carly nods to the window, prompting Elias to look outside. The environment is strange and formless: a vortex of purple and orange hues.

Elias looks back at her. "I don't understand."

"Y'know I'm starting to have fun with this." She nods in acknowledgment, a slight curve graces her lips. "There's a lot more going on with Hermes' death. We can make this a whole thing, y'know? Me: the charismatic, smart detective with a fiery side. You: my dumb dick partner. A police procedural. It'd be fun."

"It's no longer my problem." She chuckles at the response. "A worker ant doesn't choose to obey the whims of its queen. It just does. It's programming. It's melting ice on a hot day. It's nature, baby! You think you can run from this? Sooner or later your legs'll give out, and when you're standing at the precipice, you can either jump or destiny can give you a little," she leans forward and whispers in his ear, "push." She leans back into her seat and crosses her arms and legs, one leg over the other. "'Sides, you owe us."

"Who's 'us'?" The passengers of the bus all turn around in their seats at the same time. "Us." They say in unison. All the passengers are Carly but dressed in different outfits including men's and women's clothes. "We're almost there!" The bus driver—Carly in a uniform and fake felt moustache—shouts. "Look, you can stop this ride at anytime. There's your exit." She glances up. From the bus' ceiling, a long orange wire comes down and coils itself into a noose. "You've thought about it before, right?" Elias contemplates it for a brief moment. He then closes his eyes and grabs the noose, bringing it around his neck before tightening it. Suddenly, he's back in his apartment and the noose around his neck has transformed into Carly's right hand, choking him. "Oh no, I won't let you weasel your way out of it. Like I said before, I'm just starting to have fun with this." They are interrupted when the door bell begins ringing profusely. She lets go of his neck and they both stare at the door; Elias, coughing while he does so.

"Mate! It's me, Apollo. Emergency, obviously. Wouldn't be caught dead in this neighborhood otherwise. Now open up." "Well, aren't you going to get it?" Carly says without looking Elias' way. The door opens and Elias is greeted by two familiar faces. "Apollo. Sarah." He says with no particular emotion. "I don't suppose you're the entertainment my landlady hired for her nephew's birthday? Come on in." Once the pair enters the apartment, Elias closes the door behind them. "I'd offer something to drink but you probably don't drink the cheap stuff. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Elias asks, placing his hands behind his back.

 

[Generic Brooding Antihero]

APOLLO CIRLLO
31 | Greek | App
Blu
​

Sabroe was quick to place a hand on Apollo’s arm -- much to his chagrin -- signalling for the latter to keep quiet for the time being.

‘Elias. I hope you’re doing well.’ She smiled, giving him a slight nod, although by now, she’d learned not to be too optimistic about Elias’ well-being. She'd told Apollo time and time again that the government probably had the resources to help him, but the latter would have none of it. You'd be forcing a square peg into a round hole were his exact words, and they never brought up the topic again. ‘Our sincerest apologies for visiting on such short notice. Unfortunately, Apollo refuses to tell me anything before we got here.’

‘Did you really need to tell him that? It’ll just go to his head, you know.’ Apollo sighed, his tone as cool and sing-song as ever, though the fact that he had yet to make a reference to The Matrix spoke about how high his spirits truly were.

He made his way to the living room, Sabroe trailing after him, and plopped down on the couch, looking every bit as if he owned the place. ‘I’ll pass on the drinks, Morph, but bring me a wine glass, anyway. It’s better if I showed you instead.’ Apollo sat with his legs crossed, one arm spread over the back of the couch. He looked up, to his side, at Sabroe, who simply elected to stand up with her arms at her sides, looking very wary of their surroundings.

‘You know, the last time I had a vision, I saw a newborn child, his hand wrapped around the tiniest dagger.’ Apollo’s voice had gone soft, his gaze falling down the ground. He almost looked like he was lost in another time. ‘I saw him cutting down a string, an impossible knot, the ropes that held together the empire of my people. Twine fell away to blade, and downwards the once-great marble buildings went, crumbling, ushering the dawn of a new era.’

‘Alexander the Great,’ Sabroe mumbled under her breath.

‘He was born that day.’ Apollo should have known. Perhaps if he and his fellow gods hadn’t grown so selfish and arrogant -- quarrelling amongst themselves, as ever -- they would have been able to do something to stop it. Perhaps they could still have been proper gods today. Perhaps that was why he found himself here, thousands of years later, when he could just as well have run away. History must not repeat itself. ‘Ah, but enough dawdling, and waxing nostalgic. Where’s my bloody glass?’

 

[Digit]

Donal Finnegan
Lugh, the Master of Skills

ACT 1, SCENE 1​

Classroom Rehearsal - Dublin, Ireland
“What is it, my children? You, my children, are the youngest generation of the ancient house of Cadmus. What is causing all these cries of anguish, all this waving of prayer branches? Their scent has filled the air of our city! All this lamentation, these deep sighs of misfortune. What are they about?"

“Try to go a bit louder—speak from your diaphragm. Remember, you're projecting to the sick and dying masses.”

"Well? Here I am! You have me here in person and I have come to you so that I can find out what it is that gives you this pain, directly from you, from your own mouths, rather than risk any mistakes that might be made by a third person. Speak, sons and daughters of old Cadmus, you are talking to me, Oedipus! You all know me!"

"That's more like it, but tone it down when you're speaking to the priest."

"You, old priest, your advanced years well qualify you to represent this youth. Tell me then, what has brought you all here? Is there something you are afraid of? Is there something you need from me? Tell me and it will certainly be granted! Otherwise what sort of a man would I be if I had not enough compassion to help you, you, my very own folk, with all my heart?"

"Nice. Now that you've got your tonation down, let's work on pacing. There's no need to rush. The audience knows they've opted in for a three hour production—they've clearly got time on their hands."

Indeed, Donal would be spending his next three hours running through lines with the dozen or so students that made up the cast-to-be of the local university’s performance of Oedipus Rex. Sure, the choice of production left big shoes to fill, but he felt as if the actors he had hand-picked were a talented enough bunch. In all honesty, however, his Greek colleagues had admittedly been egging him on about finally getting around to one of the so-called ‘classics.’ And although their deities were shamelessly vain, Donal conceded that the Greeks' playwrights weren't half bad themselves.

He had been organizing and directing school plays for years by now, though it was never a formal part of his job description. Sure enough, he would've been content with merely educating his students within the classroom and leaving it at that. Imagine his surprise and appreciation then, when a handful of members from the university's theater club had approached him for help! Needless to say, with Lugh's expertise and the student body providing a medium for the god to cast his talents onto, their cooperation had been an overwhelming success. Several productions and countless of sold-out nights later, and here they were, practicing for possibly their biggest and most ambitious venture yet.

ACT 1, SCENE 2​

Classroom Rehearsal - Dublin, Ireland
"Blessed seer! You see and judge all things, those that are known and those that have not been explained; those of the heavens and those of the earth. Teiresias, you might not be able to see but you can certainly sense how ill our land is. You, holy man, are—"

Ring! Ring! Ring!

"Ah, excuse my unprofessionalism." Forcing the phone out of its snug home in his back pocket, Donal hovered a thumb over the vibrant decline button before his brain allowed him to process the contents of his visual field. His dilated pupils drifted over to the words on-screen—the caller ID. Them? Why now? They, of all people, should have known he was booked for the hour.

"Sorry guys, it's something important. Take five, fellas."

Excusing himself out the classroom, Donal leaned his body against the hallway. He raised the cellular device face-level with one hand, tapping against the wall with the other. "Hello?"

"I apologize for the interruption. Is this Mr. Finn—"

"It's me, yes. Can we make this quick? I'm in the middle of the something."

He heard a breathy sigh from the other end. "It's about Hermes, Lugh. Now I don't know you're doing at the moment, but I doubt it has precedence over what I'm about to tell you."

Donal felt every fiber of his mortal body stiffen. The tension that had been building up ever since the Messenger God's disappearance years ago had, at long last, reached its climax. And in the next few seconds, the weight of such tension would either all be mercifully lifted up from his shoulders, or collapse and bury the man under a mountain of grief. He bit his lip with dread, inattentive to the pain he was inadvertently causing himself. "What... is it?" His words were wispy, trailing off into nothingness. The grip he had on his phone tightened with every passing nanosecond: he was anxious but curious, his heart distressed yet hopeful.

Hermes, Mercury, Lugus, Lugh...

He hated himself for ever having that hope.

They didn't share a name, body, or even worshippers...

Because he already felt it, long ago.

But they were cogs of the same machine, rulers of the same domain, parts of the same whole.

He knew that yet another part of him was dead.

ACT 2, SCENE 1​

Donal's Apartment - Dublin, Ireland
Dear Mr. Finnegan,

Words can’t describe how worried we were. You just upped and left without a word, it seemed. Anyways, we heard about what happened, and we completely understand. Seriously, take your time. We can only imagine what you’re going through at the moment.

That's right, he informed the administration that he would be taking a leave of absence to deal with a family emergency. Which, frankly, wasn't all that far from the truth. He resumed his reading of the message:

We’ve been practicing extra hard to make up for your absence, so don’t worry about us! The show’s still on for next week, so if you're feeling better by then—

Next week, already? How long had it been? An eternity, it felt like.

Hades had long been dealt with by the combined efforts of the gods and mortals associated with Project MYTH, an act he repeatedly expressed his gratitude for. Yet, absolutely nothing about the episode’s resolution sat right with him. Hermes was geniunely dead—not merely reduced to a life among men as Lugh was. Hermes, his ever dutiful and brazen confidant, was gone, and he had little to nothing to show for it. He would've liked Oedpius.

He closed the message, apprehensive about reading any further. As much as he desired to witness his students’ progress, Donal knew he couldn’t possibly recuperate within the week. The kids were considerate, but too naive. He didn’t blame them for it though, how could they even possibly hope to understand the plights of a god, much less one who lived a life as woeful as his? It was all too twisted of a plot: when Lugh had first arrived on the mortal plane, he clung to the belief that he’d be able to carry out the serene and orderly life he always desired for himself. But it became more and more apparent that no matter which realm he existed in, death would always be knocking on his door.

 

[seasonedcat]

Chang'e sat in the restaurant patiently waiting for Awilix to arrive. They had been assigned another mission to help out around the community. Chang'e likes to take jobs like these to help people, however Awilix was sent here to do these jobs for punishment. Awilix punishment was that she was unable to participate in serious mission for a month.

Chang'e sat down in the booth, her hands folded neatly on her lap as she waited. Jade sat curled up in her purse taking a nap. The music in the restaurant was a Classical Chinese music peice to set the mood for the Chinese restaurant she was in. Awilix was addicted to the stuff, and since she was coming to China for the missions, Chang'e thought it would be a good place to meet.

Chang'e's notepad rested on the table along with her pen for when the time came for them to order, after all a talking rabbit ordering might freak out the waiters. She gazed patiently at the door as she waited Awilix's arrival.

 

[Juju]

Awilix couldn't believe she was late. Again. Well actually, she could, but that was not the point.

She scurried down the hallway and opened the nearest door to discover an amorphous nebula had filled the room from wall to wall in glittering darkness. Stars the size of dust particles glittered in mid-air or traced patient orbits around the room. Despite her apparent rush Awilix took a moment to bask in the beauty of this personal cosmos, her eyes filled with the same wonder that had captivated the Mayan people -- her people -- in centuries long past. They had mapped it, predicted it, constructed architecture to grasp the sun's shadow and yet they would only see a minute glimpse of the universe's endless glory. Part of which was currently inhabiting her living room.

Seti was asleep, or at least that is the closest thing Awilix could call it. She knew perfectly well the term did not grasp it, a linguistic injustice for never imagining a word for such peaceful bliss. Still, she knew that the mortals could not be blamed, for they would never experience this phenomenon in their life.

The night sky floated peacefully between consciousness and nothing at all, a state of omnipresent awareness yet absolute indifference. Eons could pass by unnoticed within the breadth of a second.

All it took was one word for it to shatter. "Seti," Awilix's voice seemed muffled and small, like being in a cave, despite the small size of the room. So she repeated it. "Seti! We're late... again!" Miniature stars began to shift towards the center of the room, slowly at first before reaching blinding speed. Light swirled in a tight ball of blackness until a shape emerged from the maelstrom; a black jaguar with a hide of stars and night.

"You don't have to be so flamboyant all the time, you know. At least not when nobody's around to see it."
The night gave her an indignant look before he promptly turned heels and leapt out the window, not waiting for Awilix who had run up to the sill and leaned out with a chuckle. "You're so touchy today!" she teased while swinging her legs over the windowsill and out into the cool morning air. The free fall lasted for a few moments before she was enveloped by a starry cloud. "Come-on, let's get going." she said, and with that they shot off into a sky just beginning to turn pink with the dawn.

---

The Lucky Cat had an air heavy with spice and warm from the steam billowing out of the cramped kitchen, with just a hint of aged wood beyond the spicy smog to remind one of how old this place was. Old was a relative term, especially if you were a god, but this place must have been here for at least 80 years. Awilix craned her neck to look over the heads of dining customers but it didn't take long for her to spot the lady sitting in the furthest window seat. Seti lead the way to the table, his form now a harmless street-cat with inky fur. He jumped onto the table, earning a few concerned stares, and began to rub his head against Chang'e's hand in hopes of a pat.

Awilix plopped herself down in the seat across from Chang'e, her wild brown hair falling into her face. "Hey! Cha-" she caught herself with a sheepish smile and used one hand to brush the locks out of her face. "Hey Yue... long time no see."

seasonedcat

 

[athereal]

s a t u r d a y

He could feel his creators disdain flowing in tremendous waves. Loki glowered at his precious Saturday silently, his eminence glowing bright enough to ruin the eyes of any mortal. Well, almost any mortal. Saturday flexed, his body tightening as he squeezed the trigger on the current handgun he was holding. Loki expected him to be prepared for any and everything. Multiple weapons lay in his wake. Sweat dripped from the vessels body, pushed to the edge of its limit.

The target approached but was stopped by the bullet fired off. The humanoid golem faded into a pile of sand to accompany the others heaps around it. Loki raised an eyebrow at his creation. His lip may have twitched upward, but he would never admit that. The God began clapping in applause, pacing the open area.

"That was almost adequate," he sneered in a way that bordered playful and rude, "Now, again." The room was silent for a brief pause before Saturday lifted his hand toward the mirror, the noise if its explosion echoing throughout the training area. As the man stepped over the broken pieces, Loki's reflection followed him with an amused gaze.

-s-

Saturday stood in the shower, the water dripping down his back. A thin line curved from his right shoulder to his left hip, another reminder of his life before he was given life. In his own opinion, Saturday was a convenient amalgamation of what Loki considered to be weak yet good enough to keep to keep his hide on his body.

The water stopped and he looked up at ceiling. Light flooded the room through stained glass, casting vibrant colors across the floor. As he stepped out and listened to the calls of birds that were cutting across the sky lightning, Saturday both understood and envied his Creator. Loki was the lowest of cowards, but who would want to die and miss out experiencing this wonderful world? It was a luxury that Saturday would never be afforded.