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[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "A residential enclave within the district, Elysian Estates is an exclusive neighborhood where gods of prosperity and mortal elites reside in lavish mansions adorned with gilded accents. The estates overlook ornate gardens and offer a panoramic view of the district's splendor." }, { "author": ".+ Eros.", "message": "It was no bombshell for Eros to show up unannounced. He preferred it, really— glances of his unanticipated arrival were alarmed or bewitched, taken by the lure of his eyes or the appeal of his clothes. The servants that tended to Plutus's dazzling estate had seemingly become adjusted to his sporadic presence. There was a particular way that he knocked on the door, as if his attendance was a code to translate. His visits, once infrequent, were less and less spaced out in his fondness. Where others displeased him, Plutus remained as a consistency of satisfaction— and *Oh*, how Eros loved to be satisfied.\n⠀\nThe home was lavish, in ways that differed from his own. Eros found that the exterior did not compare to the grandeur that remained inside. Much like Plutus's saintly soul, it was trimmed in gold and cohesively decorated. Whilst the cash–keeper preferred glimmering golds and cleanly whites, Eros's own lodgings were littered with clashing patterns, reds, blacks, pinks— somehow, he made it appear comely. Eros found elegance in a sleazy corruption, and Plutus seemed to cherish it in purity and structure. If one looked closely, traces of Eros could still be seen, even in its strict tidiness. From a silken robe in one of the god's closets that Eros claimed as his own, to the irrepressible scent of roses snuffed in Plutus's bedsheets, he could not fully be extinguished.\n⠀\n\"Miss me?\" Eros greeted the housekeeper with a cherry lollipop in his mouth and a grin, as sugary as the candy itself. The man only gave Eros a placid expression. He lacked the immense levels of attraction that most felt for the god, knowing what Eros and Plutus did behind closed doors. Still, he could not help but feel the tug of his magnetism, as aglow as the sun.\n⠀\n\"Yes, sir. Plutus is currently in his chambers—\"\n⠀\n\n\"Oh, good. That is where I like him.\"\n⠀\nHe wore polished loubotins that clicked upon impeccable, marble floors. Eros would say that pink or red were his colors, but really, what couldn't be pull off? His abdomen was garbed in a velvety shirt of pale pink, with a boldly cut v–neck that left space for his necklaces or the lips of another to grace his skin. Necklaces, bracelets, rings, even the barbell that pierced his tongue— they were all articles of silver, that benefitted his faultless complexion and weaponized him discreetly. This evening, however, his arrows were of no use. He did not need to enchant the god that was mutually ensnared by him.\n⠀\nThe door was halfway open, and Eros entered without a knock. A choker of pearls fell just down to his collarbone, and Eros touched it briefly. The largeness of Plutus's bedroom left a tufted, one–arm sofa in a corner, and Eros took residency of it immediately. The god of love only glanced in Plutus's direction, hardly concerned with whatever he was occupied with.\n⠀\n\"Plutus, doll,\" Eros stretched his limbs with a sigh, with the crook of his neck resting at the arch of the sofa's armrest. He plucked the heart–shaped lollipop from his mouth, staring upside down at the god. His tongue was sweetly stained red from the treat, and his eyes were accentuated with black liner. His legs were crossed, and he refrained from having his shoes touch the sofa's fabric out of awareness. \"I've been dreadfully bored, haven't you? I might wither away without a bit of fun.\"" }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "*Slow to arrive, but quick to leave.* That's what everyone said about Plutus, the God of Wealth. Many assumed him to be lame because why else would it take so long for one's hard work to bear fruit? Or their luck to change? Others assumed he was busy because wealthy men - and gods - must have a lot to do to have so much money, right? \n\nIn truth, most of the time it was because Plutus couldn't be bothered. He took his time in almost every aspect of his life - slow to wake, slow to get ready, slow to walk. Time was a useless ticking noise in the back of an empty room. To an immortal, it wasn't important. \n\nBut to Plutus, it was even less so. \n\nThat morning, he still hadn't left his bedroom. He was dressed in a long gold robe left open at the front to expose his torso and loose black shorts that reached his knees. Curls still wet from his shower, they were already showing signs of rebellion as they stuck out in different directions. \n\nHe stood at the open door to his bedroom balcony, leaning against the frame as he peered out over his ridiculously massive courtyard. The gardeners were hard at work pruning and planting, and Plutus watched them with little interest. Instead, he used that time to indulge. In one hand, he held a nearly finished glass of red wine. The other, a cigarette pinched between his fingers. He was just taking a drag when he heard his door open followed by sharp tapping of footsteps upon his white marble floors cracked with gold which spiderwebbed across the tiles.\n\nHe snuck a brief glance over his shoulder to spy his new company, smirked, and then looked away before his glance was noticed. He blew the smoke out through a smile as he listened to his lover take up the couch across the room. \n\n\"Fancy seeing you here,\" He said, his voice etched with sarcasm since it wasn't an unusual occurrence. He finished off his wine before turning around, leaning his other shoulder on the opposite side of the door frame as to better admire the God of Love from that angle. \n\nAnd what an angle it was. \n\nEros was spread across the couch, his beautifully sculpted body shown off through low-cut shirts and tight pants. There was plenty to admire about the god, but Plutus started with his chest which was revealed by a low-cut shirt and adorned with several necklaces. His gaze trailed up to Eros's face where he watched those red lips pop off of the lollipop just in time for him to speak. \n\n\"*Always,* He responded as he slinked into the apartment like a lazy cat. \"At least until you arrive. Then things tend to get interesting.\" He crossed his room to the mini bar near the couch, reaching down to softly drag his fingers across Eros's chest along the way. \"Drink?\" He circled around the bar and poured himself another glass, waiting for an answer." }, { "author": ".+ Eros.", "message": "The chime of Plutus's voice, deep and tempting, infused the vast chambers with a familiarity. His eyes that were closed in repose fluttered open to see that the deity was looking at him. Like a bird of paradise, Eros flaunted the most eye–catching of feathers, and found a potency in the curiosity of others. From a distance, Eros was sure that Plutus smelt divine, and wished to perch his nose in the crook of his neck for reassurance. Where Eros was bestowed the gift of a faultless youth, it sharpened with a smile. He twirled the lollipop in his hand, with the artificial taste of a cherry lingering on his tongue.\n⠀\nThe response was what Eros anticipated, and as if the two of them were fated to remain close, Eros was not disappointed. Lover, friend, or foe could not deny that Eros brought stimulation to a room. With the physique of his mother, he accepted lechery. However, his tongue was his father's, bleached in guile. He delighted, vexed, and aroused. His tongue could be pointed with pine needles, or it could be immersed in costly silk. The god's skin morphed like the chameleon's scales, but one thing remained true— he was never without spirit.\n⠀\n\"I'll take a glass of... *Mmh*, surprise me, you know what I like.\" The touch on his bare chest brought him out of his cat–like state, and his eyes stalked Plutus's shadow with intent. Eros was not there to swathe Plutus with his touch, but he would never decline it, either. His fingers remained like a phantom to his flesh, and it beckoned Eros to slowly raise himself up from the sofa.\n⠀\n\nEros stood at the bar alongside him, now, observing. He supposed it would be less of a surprise as he scrutinized Plutus like a feline with its minuscule prey, but he succumbed to curiosity. One of his fingers looped through a curl, still wet, that was notably poking out near his ear. As Eros suspected, he smelt clean, and his flesh was warm. The visibility of his skin was not lost on the god of desire. He wanted a taste of him. Eros planted the lollipop back in his mouth in order to satiate himself.\n⠀\n\"I can only entertain myself for so long, until I must come knocking on your door.\" He twirled the lock of his hair along his index finger until he gently released it, bouncier now with his touch. The same hand hovered along Plutus's arm, and the tips of his fingers grazed the arch of his bicep through a robe of gold. His touch was so feathery that it could nearly induce drowsiness, and the look on Eros's face was one that men fought wars for. A beauty that held promises, that put mortals on their knees.\n⠀\nEros maneuvered the lollipop to the left–most side of his mouth in order to speak eloquently. \"Won't you host a party, darling? It has been too long. The clubs downtown are all too predictable.\" His form was invasive to Plutus's, nearly leaning upon him, now. He came with wishes, but his affections for Plutus remained true. \"I can make it up to you...\" Eros trailed away, into the deep, deep waters of lust. He knew that it would not be necessary, but lacing his words with sweetness was a lasting specialty." }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "One might say that it was too early in the morning for alcohol, but Plutus would vehemently disagree. No hour in the day was a bad time for drinking. He woke up and poured himself a glass of wine - sometimes something harder just to dull the ache of a godly hangover - and he had a drink with every meal as well as in between. If he were mortal, it would have been considered a problem, but the one useful thing his mother gave him was conception with another god so that he were born one himself. \n\nHe took another puff of his cigarette before pressing it between the right side of his lips to hang onto it which allowed him his full range of movement. Hands free, he picked out an expensive red wine procured from his nephew's stock, its vintage aged to perfection. Plutus spared no expense when it came to alcohol; cheap was not in his vocabulary. \n\nHe poured a generous amount in a gold-lined glass and slid it across the counter right into Eros's hand. Their fingers grazed briefly before he pulled back to refill his own. \n\n\"From my nephew's vineyard. Enjoy.\" He traded the cigarette for a sip before he continued to smoke. \"I would hardly call what you do *Knocking,* But I suppose the sentiment is appreciated.\" He, of course, didn't mind that Eros barged in unannounced, though he pretended it was a bother. His voice might have been deadpan, but his expression was amused.\n\n\"But sure, babe. I'll entertain you.\" He could think of plenty of ways to do it, but he didn't expect Eros to come with a suggestion. He raised his eyebrows as he finished off the cigarette and smothered it in an ash tray. \"So it's to be *That* Kind of entertainment.\" His lips twitched into a smirk as Eros leaned into him. He didn't pull away, instead allowing his lover to press against him as he lifted his arm to run his fingers through his hair. \n\nHe thought about the possibilities - of types of parties or ways that Eros could \"Make it up to him.\" Not that he had to do much, but the fun was always appreciated. \n\n\"Mn. What kind would you like?\" He asked as he continued to feather his fingers through the God of Love's hair. \"And at which one of my houses?\" He had one in almost every major city, after all." }, { "author": ".+ Eros.", "message": "The glass was taken into his palm without averting his gaze from the structure of Plutus's face. Eros took a distinct delight in charming Plutus, and no, it did not take much— but the effort was a silent rule to their game. The god treasured beauty of the flesh, and Plutus had been molded with such caution and care. With a dashing batting of the lashes, Eros observed the stick of nicotine that held itself between plush lips. He was well–acquainted with those kisses, tasting of imported cigarettes and stained with a shade of wine. Encouraged, Eros lifted the glass to his parted lips and took a sip. He was not nearly as impassioned for it as Plutus was. Eros, shamefully, found love for the mortals and their plethora of mixed drinks. He had a sweet tooth, with hankerings that did not cease at candies and cocktails.\n⠀\nThe dryness of his voice left Eros enticed. Where Plutus was impassive and droll, Eros compensated in animated expression. With ease could he become the glamour–scaled serpent among uncut fields, but he preferred to wear his emotions as though they were articles of lavish jewelry. Mortals found his visible, shifting charisma to be enthralling. Of course, when he became inevitably fatigued by them, their hearts were debilitated and recovered with unreliable sutures. Eros would advise that they should be grateful— it was a blessing, to carry the grief of a heart shattered by a god so beautiful. He was not to be kept, but he would gift them savored memories.\n⠀\n\"I did knock, ask your man at the door! Would you rather me come in through the window?\" The lollipop was diminishing in size, and he bit what was left of it into crystallized pieces on his tongue. \"It would be romantic, but I have never been the best climber. You'll have to suffice for this, for now.\" His humor was much more vivid and apparent, though he was not without Plutus's wit. Eros smiled with his teeth, and the hand that was tracing over the god's arm fell to his side.\n⠀\n\nThe inflection of his voice lulled Eros closer, and his body was halfway against him, now. He hummed with Plutus's hand enveloped in the softness of his hair, thrusting him into lethargy. \"Mmh, it doesn't have to be. What would you have me do for you, handsome?\" It was raunchy in nature, but it did not need to be— Eros was likely to do as Plutus desired. The god of love was prone to the mannerisms of a minx, tempted by the possibility of punishment. Still, he nourished a slight favoritism for Plutus. Unspoken, but apparent. It could be seen in his eyes of blue, glimmering like the stars.\n⠀\nThe god set his glass aside. His hand crept between the silk of Plutus's robe and to the softness of his abdomen, holding him there. Plutus was hot–blooded and soft. Eros would know his body with his eyes closed, yet he could not satiate his fill of him. He knew the placement of his birthmarks like bygone scriptures, but Eros was too tactile to go without a feel. A reminder. He would be nothing without the sensation of foreign flesh beneath the spell of his hands.\n⠀\n\"A provocative one, of course. Something... Colorful, and only crowded with exciting faces. There must be a dress code. That is why the city clubs are so horrendous.\" His voice was edged with vexation at the thought. His hand gradually came up to the god's chest, touching his collarbone. Eros leaned inward, as if he wanted to kiss him. His voice fell to a whisper. \"Whichever one would grant me an easy exit to get you to myself when the fun has died down.\"" }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "The space between him and Eros was a familiar dance. Not one many would recognize by sight - a waltz or a tango - but one of seductive words, playful banter, and soft touches. One that was practiced in public and in private, for all to watch and envy. They played off of each other like dance partners who had practiced together for years. Neither missed a beat. Neither stole the spotlight. And both knew the other's moves like their own. \n\nPlutus's lips twitched as Eros defended himself, not bothering to stop him. Instead, he tried to distract him by sliding his hand down his lover's body, feeling the muscles of his arm, his sculpted abs, and then finding a place to rest on his hip. Tugging him closer, Plutus leaned in and pressed a few soft kisses on Eros's neck. \n\n\"Darling, you know I'd take you through my door, my window, my chimney and . . . Where ever my servants enter.\" He spoke between kisses. \"You're the one surprise I like to barge in on me.\" He punctuated his words with a little bite before pulling back to meet Eros's eyes, gold peering into beautiful blues. \n\nIt was easy to get distracted with the God of Love. His beauty surpassed that of all other gods and goddesses alike, but his eyes were what made Plutus weak in the knees. It was a trap he willingly fell into every time they locked for longer than a few seconds. Centuries enjoying each other's presence didn't diminish the feeling.\n\n\"I think you know exactly what you can do for me.\" Not that it was a necessary trade for his services. Plutus would gladly throw a party, especially one requested by someone he liked. His jaw tightened as he Eros slid his hand under his robe to return the touch, his hand warm to the touch. \n\nHe closed his eyes and listened to each request with a contended expression forming on his face. He imagined the colors - royal purple and royal blue with gold trim - always gold - and he and Eros dressed to stand out among the dark colors, vibrant and bright and made to be seen. \n\nWhen he opened his eyes again, Eros's fingers had traced their way up to his collarbone. Plutus clenched his jaw and waited for a kiss that didn't come. \"I'll make a few calls.\" His voice had become low, breathy. \"Here should be fine. I don't feel like traveling far today.\" \n\nUsually a patient man, Plutus couldn't resist speeding up to get what he wanted. He closed the gap between them to press a passionate kiss to his lips, grunting in satisfaction." }, { "author": ".+ Eros.", "message": "Eros knew the sensation of a frenzied touch as mortal men knew of inevitable death. He had known desire from birth, and could not go without the lingering eyes of longing, calling to him in silent tongues that he understood best. On those very few nights that he slept alone, he felt bare, in ways that closely demanded discomfort. It was his mother's offering, to be eternally adored. Eros trespassed the space of others as if he had conspicuous ownership, and beckoned beings into his bed fervently. The god's silken sheets were a sanctuary, the eradication of distress and monotony. He smelt of the bloom of a well–kept garden; Eros was the gifted bouquet that could not wither, and admirers tucked their faces into his flesh as a reminder.\n⠀\nQuietly, Eros understood that the touch of Plutus was one of exceptional eccentricity. It, truly, kept Eros feathery and besotted. The contact of his divine hands was weighted with something especially carnal, and in their balanced state as equals, Eros felt enlivened. The god of love stared up at him with enough temptation to induce nausea— pupils large and engaged, lashes full and idyllic. He felt more of a likeness to a sculpture in the arms of Plutus, properly admired and seen. The lips upon his neck were a remedy for the short time Eros had spent without him. With a pleasured smile, he tilted his head to encourage his embrace. Eros would have been made content to present himself at their lush party dressed in bites and bruises. It was the indication of a sentient desire, and he wore it without shame.\n⠀\nThe bite was not brutal enough for the reception of pain, but it was enough to rile him. He hummed when Plutus recoiled, with eyes that fluttered open, unaware that they had blissfully closed. Eros traced little shapes into Plutus's skin, reminiscent of faraway stars. The foreign hand to his hip kept him stimulated, and Eros would have sealed such insufferable distance with a kiss if it weren't for his continued dialogue.\n⠀\n\n\"I could think of a few things, yes,\" Eros purred, watching him. He kept a touch so airy that it often tempted mortals to slumber after a night of tireless love–making. He would trace below the divots of their eyes, attuned to their dreams of him that would follow. It was only Plutus, however, that lingered in his dreams. The god brushed the tip of his nose to the other's, with a voice so close and crisp that it demanded intimacy. \"Every fantasy of mine would force you to shower for a second time.\" His hand traced the band of Plutus's briefs, and if it weren't for his inclinations to their back–and–forth waltz, he would have done more than that.\n⠀\nThe depths of the god's voice carved lacerations through the air. It excited Eros, and he wanted *More*. His hand kept a position on Plutus's chest, pleased with the decisions made. An excitable kiss flattened the tension of their proximity— one of his hands touched his neck, with the chill of his silver rings being the contrast to his fleshly warmth.\n⠀\n\"As you desire,\" Eros took Plutus's bottom lip between his teeth, pulling gently. Their lips reconnected with the motions of shallow water, steady and faultless. His tongue invaded the banker's mouth, enough to provoke frustration. When he pulled away, Eros remained close, a hand reaching to feel the god's curls. He touched him as if he were constructed by the gold that he kept infinitely at his disposal. \"Let me show you what I can do for you. Hmm?\" Eros slid a portion of the robe from his shoulder to expose his skin, planting a kiss there." }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "Plutus practically devoured his lover's lips with a hunger that bordered insanity. He was starved for affection, but Eros always provided him with exactly what he wanted. What he *Needed.* He found himself getting lost in his familiar taste, in the sensations that filled his body to the core and made him shiver despite the warmth that took over his skin. He only pulled back to take a breath, and even that was too far, so he kept his forehead pressed against Eros's, their noses gently grazing. \n\n\"Then what are you waiting for?\" He asked, wrapping his arms fully around his lover's and breaking any distance left between them. \"Give me a good reason to shower again.\" The words came out muffled as he pressed several more kisses to the crook of Eros's neck, leaving more nibbling marks to claim the god of carnal love as his own. \n\nHe felt hands on his briefs and pressed closer, urging his lover on, but was met with disappointment when it wasn't taken any further. He knew the game. Eros was a tease - a foil to Plutus's well-manicured control. Every touch, every kiss, every sway of his hips was a test to patience that the god of wealth claimed to have. Eros always had a way of pushing him to his limits in the best way possible. \n\nPlutus leaned forward as Eros tugged his bottom lip, and immediately took over the kiss as soon as their lips reconnected. Tongues engaged in a dance for dominance before Eros pulled away again, drawing a longing grunt from Plutus's throat - frustrated, *Wanting.* He was breathing fast and heavy, his heart starting to speed up from the brief contact, and it took all of his willpower not to immediately yank Eros back in for another kiss.\n\nNo, he let the god of love have his way as he caught his breath, regained his composure. Eros touched his hair and tugged at his robe all while Plutus's golden eyes followed beautiful blues, lost for a brief moment. He calmed down, reminded himself of who he was, and then finally smirked. \n\n\"Don't just show me, darling,\" He said as he gripped Eros's hips a little tighter to spin them in a brief dance, switching their positions so that Eros's back was to his bed. \"I'm going to need a hands-on demonstration.\" He shoved Eros back before following him onto the bed, moving to straddle his hips. He leaned over him, his face only inches from the god of love's. \"Now. Where were we?\"" }, { "author": "wolvengear", "message": "``. . . Fade to black. End scene.``" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "A grand promenade lined with majestic marble columns and adorned with golden arches. The Golden Galleria serves as the entrance to the Plutonian Prosperity District, inviting denizens to stroll through a corridor of opulent shops and boutiques offering treasures from both mortal and divine realms." }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "One could always smell the rain before it began, and the static electricity of something coming up behind was evident as Alastor strolled down the perfectly paved entryway, sipping on a Limited Edition Purple Galaxy Plutonian Slushie. \nEveryone was moving, and he felt the world tilt, as if having vertigo. \nSomething wasn't right. \n\nThe shadows wriggled as he cast a wide net to search for what was beyond his sight and they wriggled as a seismic movement was headed this way. \nAlastor turned to look behind him, over his shoulder and over his sunglasses as he took a sip of his slushie.\n\nAnd suddenly, it was pitch black. \n\nJet black blotted out the sun, effectively turning Zeus' big ol' light off. The world became a landspace of monochromatic gloom.\nAlastor couldn't help but smile as his teeth clamped down on the straw. \n\n*Hades.* \n\nThe screaming was like murder violins. Soft as first, cascading in a syncopated beat as series after series of people began to realize what was happening and was running back the way the came. \nAlastor quickly phased to an arch, standing up on the top crest of the structure. \n\n*Schuuuuuuuulp*. \nThe plastic echo of liquid nearly being drained was drowned out by the screams, the tinge of copper so robust he tasted it, thick on his tongue. It ruined the slurpie. \n\nThe hoard of the undead were already throwing itself forwards like rabid pack of mice that couldn't sate it's frenzy fast enough, engulfing the less fortunate. \n\n**\"I can only surmise what caused this,\"** He spoke to no one in particular, a hand outstretched before flipping. \nThe first few rows of undead stalled, and then turned, going after the other undead behind them. It created enough of a gap for the mortals still running to find some solace. \n\nA few more flicks of his hand, and several groups of undead were cast in a curse to be killed by another undead. He dropped the plastic drink cup and it landed in the trash can below the arch. \nA few stranglers get past, but with a glance,\n\nThey fell, their feeble bones shattering against the material of the plaza. \n\n**\"Oh, bad luck...\"** He tutted. \n**\"Probably shouldn't have tried to kill so mindlessly..\"** As if it were all their faults, and not at all Hades. Alastor's normal shtick was to find the one responsible and place retribution to them, but like Cerberus' firey balls he was going to go try to *Curse the Kind of the Damned himself.*\nHe'd do as much damage control as he could up here, while Hades cooled off." }, { "author": "Amara ", "message": "▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n\nAmara was panting, barely holding herself together from the powers that threatened to destroy her as she did what she could within the remnants of destruction. Chest heaving and beads of sweat threatening to stick every piece of raven hair to face and neck. It was almost over, the men dwindling down to one that could be heard pleading from the balconies above. One. Then a rumble shook the earth, and the building crumbled further as the dead rose again. \n\n\"Fuck sake, just once. Just once could you guys talk it out?\" Amara shouted out to no one in particular as she dove from the fury of the ravaging beasts. All of them. Every single soldier that had raided and rampaged was now on a direct path outside. To the- \n\n\"Hades.\" \n\nAmara gasped as darkness consumed the world and screams echoed from every direction. Not just within, but beyond, to the mortals that had begged and prayed to their Gods. It seemed they had answered in kind. Shown what it was to be human amongst the immortals. Blindness consumed most as lights flickered and diminished beneath the curls of shadows all around. Her eyes adjusted slowly as her feet moved against. \n\nSlowly.\n\nCarefully.\n_ _\n\nWith the grace of a cat on the ledge, not wanting to fall to her doom, but doom was all around her, and lurking within. Pouncing at the first chance and sending her tumbling out onto the streets. Her dress hiked with quick precision, to pull a dagger from her thigh and shove it within the undead's jaws in hopes to stop the violent rampage. Only to have its teeth bend and snap the blade that held until only a handle was within her capable hands. \n\n\"Tsk, remind me to kill that merchant later, will ya?\" A joke to the snarling, drooling mess above her as the handle kept its teeth from digging into flesh. \n\nAs the darkness engulfed them, Amara found herself face to face with the broken jaw of a man she had already come to blows with. Hollow eyes bore down upon her, hungering for the warmth of life that still pulsed within her veins. A defiant grunt could be heard from her as she pushed against him from beneath, strength beyond her frame sending him into the dirt beyond as she quickly stood once more. Her feet finding the ground, and a sense of relief flooding her, only to take in a scene from the worst renditions of the Underworld all around her. \n_ _\n\nThe Undead were an ocean, surging forward onto unsuspecting mortals and Amara was helpless with powers that only drove those with minds still intact into the depths of madness and fear. \n\n*\"I can only surmise what caused this.\"*\n\nSuddenly a voice spoke within the vicinity, and an eyebrow cocked in curiosity on the deadly enchantress' features, to who could speak with such casual demeanor to their tone in a time like this. \"You don't say? Was it the overwhelming waves of the undead or the smothering darkness that gave hint that our lovely King of the Underworld finally decided to say hi?\" \n\n\"His precious Queen was injured... I suppose we all should have seen this coming in retaliation but .. Fuck. How much destruction can one simple damsel in distress cause?\" \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:" }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "*'You don't say?..'* \n\nThe God of Retribution was nearly wraith-like, his blue-hazel eyes were still much too bright in the darkness that devoured the sun, and they met Amara's figure. \nShe was struggling. Her demigod status lending her some... Less than favorable conditions for a battle of this scale. \nHe could have done something at that moment to aid her as she spoke, however, he was musing over what she knew and it elicited a smirk that spread up the left side of his mouth.\n\nHis hands slipped into the pockets of his slacks. \nThough, Alastor also felt the stab of barbedwire in his chest to learn that Persphone had been hurt. He also disliked the way Amara had referred to her as a \"Simple damsel in distress.\" \nAlastor's smile flattened and his eyebrows raised at her daring statement.\nThe God would let her struggle and fight for a moment longer while he expressed himself and his rapport for the circumstance. \nThat seemed fair.\n\n**\"You underestimate Hades' willingness to destroy this entire world for his wife. You also underestimate how much her love has kept Hades happy and has tempered more than one outburst, or slight, or reaction. He does tend to fly off the handle, and if you think you could have a *Talk* With Hades when he is upset? Someone wholly beneath him?\"**\nA soft breath of air pushed out of his nose, scoffing at the ridiculous thought.\n**\"I digress. Persphone has been the best for him that he could ever have. She is the reason the mortals are not doomed fifty percent of the time. That's more than I can say for any other God.\"** \n\nSuddenly, a well of darkness came crashing around Amara, barring her off from the undead. Jagged edges crushed into the zombies and the circumference of the tube expanded, allowing the demigod room to catch her breath. \n\n**\"Don't you look quite nice?\"** He turned his attention unceremoniously to her dress. Alastor walked out of the dark well of respite and into the center with Amara.\n\n**\"What's the occasion?\"**\n\n<" }, { "author": "Amara ", "message": "▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n\nAmara could feel her temper rising at his tone. If she had a nickel for every time a God had used her for their entertainment, she may very well be rich by now. The bitterness started to linger on her tongue and fester deep within the memories of despair and contempt. His words a sting to her, a metaphorical slap to the face fin response to the sarcasm in her own tone. She was no fool to this, Persephone had many loyal followers amongst the Gods. Respect she steadfastly held for her role as Queen and the water to Hades' flames, but it changed nothing of Amara's own thoughts and experiences and so in her stubborn nature her jaw set. Her muscles growing tired and sore at the struggles of the ferocity in the undead. \n\n\"I am quite aware of any God's capability and willingness to destroy the entirety of the mortal realm for their own purpose. Ego or woman, it makes no difference to me, we are but ants to you and your kind do very much so like stepping on the hill.\" Words through gritted teeth. Her fire and temper never did her well for getting out of situations, so much as placing her within them. \"I don't wish to speak to Hades, or any of you for that matter...\" A bite to her tone, like a tempered child backed into a corner. \n_ _\n\nJust as she had stated the words, darkness crashed around them and freed her from her living nightmare. Her chest heaving as it attempted to catch up with the energy she had exerted, she nearly toppled over onto the pavement before her. Somewhat in awe of the expanse of power he had just demonstrated while still looking if he was unbothered by the entirety of this scenario of apocalyptic nature. \"Thank. You.\" A forced sense of her gratitude through gasps. Not knowing if it was her struggle to recover, or the wish to tell him to go fuck himself for playing with her before saving her. \n\n*\"Don't you look quite nice? What's the occasion?\"* \n\nAmara looked down at her dress, tattered and torn. The diamonds that had been strewn across her back were now dangling and barely holding the cloth together. Her hands self consciously moving to pull the risen fabric down and cover more of her bare skin. \"Saving your precious Persephone.\" Sarcasm dripped from her words, but reminding herself of the shadows he had just cast upon the undead, she quickly added. \"I am surprised you didn't know, the entirety of the God population seemed to be within the club tonight... Including the goddess of Spring, and...\" Amara hesitated at the last part, biting her lip at how much she should say to a complete stranger, a God, no less. \"Injuries occurred, but I was able to take out her assailant before- before he finished her entirely and she was whisked off to what I could only assume was Hades' presence.\" \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:" }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "Was Alastor's mention of her dress being \"Lovely\" A slight, or a true compliment of what he imagined she was wearing before? \nUndetermined.\nThough the talk of a party made his eyes lock to her's, holding contact while she weakly tried to use Persphone like a white glove across his face. There was little reaction to be had, as Alastor didn't want to waste his energy. \nHe continued to stay quiet until she stuttered and her words switched gears as to not get into too much detail. She was withholding the rest of the participants for what reason? \nThe God supposed that he probably wasn't invited tl the little get-together for some reason or another. \nHe made a small list of those she had already spoke of. \n*This girl, Hades, Demeter, and Persphone...*\nSo, Hades was planning something?\n\nIt did come to his attention that he hadn't introduced himself.\n\n**\"Apologies, young one. I am Alastor, God of Retribution. And whose club did you say this was?\"** He questioned quickly, breezing through his introduction. \nHe gave her the time it took to slip open the brass cigarette case he carried around, pull a cigarette out, place it between his lips, shut it, while switching for his lighter, lighting the toxic stick and then putting everything away, to answer him. \nHe didn't look at her until he was finished.\nHe left his left hand in his pocket, the right pinched the little white tube with an index finger and thumb. \n\nIf she refused to answer, he didn't mind. \n\n**\"I just want to know how I missed out on all the fun.\"** \nA partial lie. \n**\"Though, for you to take out Persphone's assailant, he must have been mortal, correct?\nDespite Hades'...\"** \nAlastor gestured to the sky above them, and sort of all around with a circle of his hand. Smoke from the cigarette trailed. \n\n**\"My point being, if there is a larger attempt from one side, in the middle of the war, and whoever it was that was sent, might be better if you focus on *Who* Sent them. Do you know?\"** \n\nAny glower was met with hiked\n\nEyebrows that said *'I could have just let you stay overwhelmed, and I'm privvy to change my mind.'*\nA moment to chat and catch up wouldn't kill her. It was her only reprieve at the moment, honestly." }, { "author": "Amara ", "message": "It didn't take a genius to note the genuine curiosity in his voice. A casual demeanor that masked the many questions swimming in the silent air of his shadows surrounding them. The chaos just echoes beyond them, as Amara readied herself to be berated by the rabid beasts once more the second he bored of her and left her to fend for herself.\n\nHer lips pursed as she studied him, a genuine distrust in her gaze as it slid over the cigarette that now lay lazily on his fingertips. \"I am just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time in Hades club. If you are looking for information, the King and Queen would be the ones to request an audience with...\" Amara looks to the skies once more, the undead beyond the shadows. \"Perhaps the Queen... Hades was not present though. I can answer that much to your questions, and yes ...The man was mortal.\" \n_ _\n\nThere was hesitation to her as she realized the moment she was useless to the god of retribution was the moment she fended for herself once more. Still catching her breath with beads of sweat pouring down her forehead she relented to the final bit of information she knew. \"He said something about his reasons.. Hades being inactive in the war. A rather ironic thing. Hades is within the war and we are cast into darkness now, proof that the Underworld's involvement is the last thing we fucking need...\" She cast a sideways glance to Alastor as she swiped her other dagger from its place against her thigh, studying it to assure the metal was of better standing than the one before. \"No offense, if you .. Ya'know fight for the big bad Daddy Underworld.\" \n\nSatisfied, she slid the blade back within its strap and placed her hands on her hips in a more relaxed form. A false bravado and confidence emanating from her. \"So.. Ali, can I call you Ali? I don't suppose I can convince you to walk a girl home. This...\" Her hands waved to the shadowed shield around them. \"Seems a rather convenient tool.\" \n_ _" }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "**\"You don't come across to me as the nicknaming type,\"** He responded without much vocal inclination other than boredom. It was obvious there was very little approval for the shorted version of his name. He also stated this without know much about Amara in the first place. \n\n*Ali.*\nIt sounded as if he was about to go on a magic carpet ride with a Arabian Princess, or was short for Alissa. Neither of which were very fitting. \n\nAlastor took another drag from the cigarette, his gaze cast downward, yet his mouth pulling into a contemplative line. \n\n**\"Isn't it?\"** \nHe began to pace the clearing he'd made, and only met Amara's gaze after taking a few steps forward. \n\n**\"My question to you is, would fight me and win to earn being taken home?\"** \nA dark smile cut along his face, the sparkle of mischief were in those bright blue eyes. He waited for her response, before flicking the ash from his addiction. \nHe seemed serious, as he had been watching her gaze assess her weapons. Her half mortal state put her at the perfect disadvantage, yet... He couldn't find a reason other than a sick need to win in which he wanted to fight her. \nTo the God, she had suffered much by Hades' hand already, and being one representative of Justice, he felt inclined to uphold that creed of fairness. \nAmara didn't ask to be thrust into this game, after all. \n\n**\"I'm only kidding.~\"** Alastor chuckled, taking another drag. \nThis time, when he blew out the smoke, a dark mist wrapped around them. \nIn that forever dark, the God's voice came. \n**\"Think about your home. You don't have to say it outloud. Just think about where it is. See it in your mind.\"** \n\nOnce Amara had the picture clearly, the darkness fell away, and she was home. \nAlastor didn't seem to be anywhere in sight - not immediately visible, anyway." }, { "author": ".rieka", "message": "Amara's lips twitched with a hint of amusement at Alastor's seeming disdain when Ali left her lips, her gaze flickering with curiosity as he paced before her. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, she sensed an undercurrent of intensity in his words, a hidden depth waiting to be unraveled as the cigarette lit against the enveloping curls of smoke.\n\n\"Appearances can be deceiving, Ali.\"\n\nAs Alastor's dark smile danced across his face, Amara couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. His challenge hung in the air, a tantalizing invitation to a dance of power and wits. She knew the odds were stacked against her as they were with any God she had faced off against in her time on this mortal realm, yet the fire of determination burned bright within her soul. With a knowing glint in her eyes, she met Alastor's gaze head-on. \"I'm always up for a challenge,\" She replied, her voice steady and stoic despite the growing moans of the undead around them and the fatigued body that screamed of sleep and release.\n\nAs the darkness enveloped them once more, Amara's thoughts drifted back to the comfort of home, her heart yearning for the familiar embrace of vanilla with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders in solemn quiet. And when the shadows finally receded, leaving her standing alone in the quiet stillness of her home, she blinked as if coming out of a haze. \n\nAmara's mind buzzed with a mix of confusion and relief as she found herself back in familiar surroundings. Her gaze scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of Alastor. The sudden disappearance of the enigmatic figure left her feeling both intrigued and wary. With a cautious step forward, she mulled over the encounter with the dark God, trying to make sense of Alastor's intentions. His unpredictable nature had left her on the edge of a cliff, unsure of what his next move might be, if any at all. Perhaps he had just been toying with the half breed woman before him. Yet, beneath the layers of mystery, she sensed a hint of something deeper, a glimmer of empathy perhaps, buried within the god's complex persona.\n\nIt was then that she sensed it, or rather him, and cringed. She had never let anyone into her space before, let alone a God she barely knew. This felt vulnerable, a prodding in their playful banter she hadn't quite steeled herself against. \"I can sense your darkness. Tell me the game you wish to play.\" \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂" }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "The scent of vanilla was a nice touch, the God of Retribution had to admit. There was a coziness in her longing for somewhere outside of the chaos of the upheaval of the dead, rotting and scarce remains that Hades had resurrected. Anyone who has smelled the deas knows they will smell that smell for a few hours. Mixed with sweat and blood from fighting them off, the demigod was more princess in distress than a wore torn warrior. \n\nAlastor's judgemental observation of her wasn't lost on himself, and moved through the dark corners of her abode. He studied her in this new environment. \nAmara was just a young woman here. She looked out of place in her ruined dress and knives hanging out of her slack grip. Though, if ripped clothing and dulled blades were the only damage during her attempts to protect herself, then... She had quite a good teacher.\n\n**\"This entire war is a game,\"** He stepped out from the shadows somewhere behind her, though his voice echoed through several corners.\nIt was click of his tongue that gave away his position. \n\n**\"I won't stay long. However, I will require a favor from you when I deem it necessary to call on it. And you will not refuse. Least you find yourself out of your house and thrown back into that... Poorly planned disaster. \nI don't care what side you are on. I know where to find you, and but I will only warn you about any inkling of betrayal to our oath now. Retribution is not to be confused with kindess, and a favor is the least you owe me in exchange for saving you. It's only fair, after all.~\"**\n\nAlastor had stamped out his cigarette long ago in the void travel between the square her Amara's home. His smile looked so... Welcoming, nearly friendly, with no teeth to show in anger. His hands were tucked neatly in his pockets. \n\n**\"Beautiful home by the way. I love vanilla and your furniture shows off a fun side of you. I hope we run into eachother on less...*Tense* Terms. Farewell.\"** \n\nAlastor slipped into the\n\nShadows once more and this time they felt empty." } ]

[ { "author": "wingmancan", "message": "A Conversation Between Siblings" }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "\"I am aware you have fallen short of your payments, but what did you expect would happen throwing your money down on a couple of horse races?\" Plutus's eyes rolled back along with his head which tapped against the back of his throne with an audible *Thunk.* One might think he was hard at work by the way he reacted to the voice on the other end of the phone - the phone which sat at least a foot away atop of his desk and was put on speaker so he could expend the least amount of effort possible to deal with the so-called *Client* On the other end. \n\nThe voice, which was an octave too high and getting more panicked by the minute, was talking too fast for Plutus to care to follow. Not to mention it was delving into a sensitive subject - money. \n\nSpecifically lost money. \n\nPlutus could be a very generous god for the right price, but his generosity only went so far. When he loaned out - or as the mortals liked to call it, *Gave* Out - money to those who wanted or needed it, he didn't expect them to come crawling back for more after gambling it all away. Well. Maybe he *Did* Expect it, knowing some of his clientele, but he didn't want it. And he certainly didn't encourage it. Squandering his generosity was a quick way to his bad side. \n\n\"I'm afraid the bank is closed on Sundays,\" Plutus said, knowing very well it was a Friday. \"But do try to call back on February thirtieth.\" \n\nHe stretched his arm out to reach for his phone, clicking the \"Off\" Button without another word, and then he sank back into his throne, body draped in cat-like relaxation. He leaned heavily on one arm of the chair while his legs dangled over the other, stretching him across the seat. Eyes closed, he rubbed his temples to rid himself of a growing headache before reaching over to click another button on his phone.\n\n\"Alexis, cancel my two o'clock. No, I don't care who it is. Tell them to come back tomorrow.\" He hung up again and traded his phone for a glass of wine sitting right next to it. \"Ce n'est pas celui qui a beaucoup qui est riche, mais celui qui donne beaucoup.\" He lifted his glass to toast himself and then took a sip." }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "```Past Scene.```\n\nPersephone stood within the shadows of the doorway in amusement, leaning her small frame against the ornate door. A business casual suit of cream, with a corset of floral decor adorned her figure. Red hair done up in a loose bun that fell in curled strands around freckled cheeks and rouge lips. She looked nothing of the frail thing that frolicked through the fields at her mother's whims on this day. The small thing that had moved within herself, in overgrown dresses and mousey words and manners. Instead she was much the grown figure, a glowing mother of two, and a stronger woman for it.\n\nA woman who watched her brother enveloped in the element he so thrived within. His figure slumped over his chair in a freedom and confidence she had always envied. A knowing smile creeping over her lips while he spoke his words of cheers in the language she had grown rather fond of. The French Alps a beautiful place to be whisked away for a romantic occasion or two. Or perhaps one she would later beg Plutus to take her on, a time to get to know the eldest sibling better. Take him to a place of comfort and warmth before she dove beneath those walls he kept up... Up and sturdy for any he tried to know the truest versions of him. \n\n\"Et qu'en est-il de sa sœur?\"\n_ _\n\nShe walked into his office in full casual form. Her legs striding with confidence, heels clicking against the marble flooring. \"I am afraid your two o'clock is already here, dearest brother. Do not blame your assistant, I know this place far too well and them.. Far too little. Is that a new one by the way?\" Slowly she sank within an empty chair with a cock of her head in curiosity and playful accusation, one leg crossing over the other, and eyes moving to the drink within his hand.\n\n\"Though I will join you in your toast, if you'll have me?\" \n\nShe moved for a glass at the bar set near them before he could protest. Tempted to pour the bottle in its entirety down her throat before starting this damned conversation. Settling on a whiskey glass and what looked to be a fine aged bourbon. Wine being far from enough for her in the next coming days. A sip would do, however, letting it burn slowly as she hoped for a source of courage. \n\n\"I won't keep you. I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving...\" \n_ _" }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "Plutus rested the cool glass against his forehead, eyes closed as he nursed the headache brought on by beggars. He very well might have allowed himself to pass out just like that, but the all too familiar voice of his sister reached out of the shadows. If it were any other, he might have jumped in surprise, but Persephone's tone was rather disarming, even when unexpected. \n\nSlowly opening his eyes, he glanced in her direction, feigning disinterest. \"Surtout la famille,\" He said, his voice deadpan for all of three seconds before his lips turned up into a smile. \"Dearest sister . . . I didn't realize you were my two o'clock. Since when do you make appointments to drop in?\" While his tone sounded like it was dripping with sarcasm, he was completely sincere. Persephone got a pass. On most days. \n\nHe sat up in his chair but regretted it immediately and reached up to rub his temples where the headache was most prominent. \"Unmet appointments are reserved for Mother. You are welcome any time.\" He tossed back the rest of his wine, hoping to numb the pain with more alcohol, and then walked down the three steps from his throne so he could be level with Persephone. \n\n\"Who, Alexis? Not new enough to let the Goddess of Spring slip by unnoticed.\" Who could miss such a beautiful and elegant creature, after all? \"She's terrible at organizing my digital records. I really only hired her because she was good at—\" He paused, glancing down at his sister with a long gaze. \"—of course you're welcome to join me.\"\n\nHe met her at his mini bar in the corner of his office and set his empty glass down. A half-finished wine bottle stood on the countertop with its cork missing, but before Plutus could reach for it, he saw Persephone reach for the bourbon. His eyebrows raised with interest. \n\n\"What's the occasion?\" He asked as he plucked up the whiskey glass and its sibling before she could. \"Allow me.\" He poured them both a sizeable amount before pressing the glass into her hand. Then, he held up his own to prepare for the toast. What had his sister so stressed that she was going for the hard liquor? \n\n\"Leaving? I thought you just got here,\" He said with a smirk, knowing that it wasn't what she meant. He hid it behind his first sip, but his eyes gave away how funny he thought he was. \"Where are you going?\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n\n*\"I really only hired her because she was good at-\"*\n\nAn eyebrow perked in amusement at her brother. She was no fool to his antics, and though she was loyal to one and only one, she would never judge him for indulging in as many different *Passions* As he liked. Plutus could not be further from Persephone in his mannerisms, personality, and talents, but she enjoyed that about him. Envied his abilities to forever stay true to who he was with no apologies given. \n\n\"Yes I'm sure she has quite the talents ...Elsewhere.\" A teasing smile poked at the corner of her lips as she watched him pour the glass with tempered nerves. Her hands felt as if they would slide straight from the glass itself when they wrapped around. Her heart still threatening to beat through her damned chest. \n_ _\n\nUntil now, she had yet to speak her plans aloud. She hadn't dared. As she knew that would make them all too real, but if there was anyone that could give her a true, unfiltered opinion, she knew she could always rely on Plutus for it. \n\n\"The Underworld. I'm going to tell Hades my feelings, and that the twins are his own, to father. I am hoping to make a permanent residence there...\" She took another long sip from the bourbon and made a face that spoke to her lack of ability to drink strong alcohol, practically choking in her next words. Whether from fear or lack of experience was to be decided. \"...You know, for the childrens' sake. They should be raised alongside a father.\" \n\nSinking back into the chair, the definition of grace and elegance slumped for the first time in centuries. \"Am I a fool? I'm a fool aren't I? Chasing a man that has barely shown an inch of attraction in my direction since the twins, and here I am chasing after him like a lovesick school girl. The King of the damned and the Underworld itself... I should have expected it to be nothing more than a fleeting phase for him.\" \n\nLaying her head into the back of the chair with a deflated stance, Persephone looked up at the ceiling with a dazed sense. \"...And then there's, of course, mother...\" \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:" }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "\"The Underworld.\"\n\nHe wouldn't pretend to be surprised. Persephone's interest in Hades and his realm was obvious. Not only did she tell him about it on several occasions, but her desire to go there on her own even *Before* The children was easy to see. Now that she had managed to bed one of the Big Three and bear his children, he only wondered why it took her so long to figure out that she wanted to go back. Either way, he was proud. His sister was certainly *Going places* Literally and figuratively. \n\n\"Well that certainly sounds controversial,\" He said with a growing smile. He watched her force down a rather large gulp of the bourbon before asking a more direct question. \"What are you gonna do if he says no?\" He sipped from his own glass right after he asked, but kept it short and dainty so as to not interrupt his gaze waiting for her reaction. \n\nAmber eyes followed her form as it sank into his velvety chaise, and he was taken aback by her terrible posture. One of the few things they had in common was their grace and elegance, though she certainly effortlessly embodied them better than him on most occasions. He realized then that he couldn't just be the fascinated observer; he had to be the supportive older brother.\n\nSighing, he crossed over to her side and lowered himself to the end of the chaise, crossing his legs and resting his arm on his knee. He still held his glass in that hand, but it was already mostly empty. \n\n\"You're not a fool,\" He said straight away, and though his words were stiff, he meant them. He was just terrible at comforting people. \"You're a mother who loves her children and wants the best for them. Having a father in their lives might be what they need.\" He paused. \"Though . . . I don't see why considering they already have an amazing uncle.\" \n\nWhen she mentioned their own mother, he rolled his eyes. \"You let me handle her. You . . . Run off and frolic with your King of the Underworld because if you *Don't,* Then she'll never let you leave.\" \n\nHe finished off his drink. Just the thought of having to deal with Demeter made him want to get drunk, but he would do it if it meant keeping her off of Persephone's back. \n\n\"Just a side note . . . If you were nothing but a phase to Hades, then he's an idiot.\" Most people might not have dared to insult one of the High Gods - and he wouldn't do so if Hades was standing there - but Plutus's lips were loosening the more he drank. \"*He's* The fool if he passes up the Goddess of Spring.\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "*\"What are you gonna do if he says no?\"*\n\n\"I- haven't thought about it.\" A lie. She had, far more than she would like to admit. Every horrible outcome of what could happen had replayed over and over again within her head like a broken record. Hades had laughed within her face. Hell, Persephone had even shown before his throne, naked in her dreams, or rather nightmares. It was all she thought about, but then that one glimmer of hope shown through in sober thoughts and played the what if game in her anxious subconscious. The thought that he could love her back. It was enough to drive her to the madness of this whole plan. \n\nPersephone chewed her lip as her forest green eyes peeked from her melodramatic state at her brother sitting beside her. Plutus had always been a man of a rather careless demeanor. His laid back aspect of the way he took on life with calculated unbothered responses was something she envied, but this, this was the side that he opened to so few. The rare jewel of the man that lay beneath. Her protector. Her brother. \n_ _\n\nSitting up, she slid her hands gently into his own. Her fingers wrapping around and brushing against the well manicured skin of the god of wealth. A grateful smile creeping up her lips as so much was said beneath the surface of his words. \"I know I could never convince you to come with me, but knowing you support me in this...\" She knew how he hated the emotions his sister so easily placed on display. The tears that welled up within her eyes, that were quickly blinked away so to hide the evidence from existence. \n\nSo few had cared for the goddess of spring beyond her abilities to heal. A woman that was beauty and grace, but held little power or respect amongst the Olympians. Persephone, the lost little flower, delicate and weak, and yet Plutus had never once treated her as such. Never once had he looked upon his sister as if she were a helpless flower that would wilt away at the first sign of trouble, but instead he firmly stood by her in all her crazy endeavors as an unyielding beam of support. \n_ _\n\n\"They do have a rather amazing uncle don't they?\" A breathy chuckle left her lips as a tear escaped from its temporary refuge and rolled down her rouged and freckled cheeks. \"Though you spoil them far too much. What will they learn if their uncle simply gives them their every wish?\" A playful nudge of her shoulder, before she rested her head against Plutus in a tender show of sibling affection she forced upon him from time to time in moments rare, such as this. Her red hair falling in loose curls down his immaculately dressed self. \n\n\"That is just it, Plutus... I am only the Goddess of Spring. The lost flower in Demeter's field with her one flickering ability. He is- Hades.\" A frown wrinkled within her otherwise youthful skin and she picked her head up to place a subtle kiss upon his cheek. \"Though I appreciate your attempts, I am afraid not everyone holds me upon the pedestal you do, Plu.\" \n_ _\n\nAs if she realized the sentiments the alcohol threatened to toss her down, Persephone sobered herself and straightened her shoulders. Her hands pulling from her brothers in timid nature, but not before she tenderly placed a loose strand of his hair back in its place. \"I'm going to miss you, Plu.\" She was not naive enough to misunderstand what would come of this. Demeter's wrath was sure to follow when her daughter came up missing from the fields she sown, and for that Persephone would have to hide behind the King in his realm of the dead for a time unknown, if he accepted her request. Hide from the world she had come to know as her own, and those she loved for their own sanity and safety. She would have to distance herself from Plutus, to save both of them from the destructive aftermath.\n_ _" }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "Expression remaining mostly unchanged, Plutus watched Persephone go through a plethora of her own emotions, clutching his hands as if to hold on for dear life. He watched as she mentally went over everything in her head, and waited patiently for her to think of the words to say - if she even wanted to say them. He let her cry so she could feel the sweet relief of the aftermath while he provided a safe environment for her to do it freely. He even allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder without recoiling as if burned.\n\n\"Ew. Go with you to a place with no light? How will I ever see my gold outfits glint or my money shine?\" He teased, but there was some truth to it. Plutus had no interest in living in the Underworld, though he didn't have anything against Hades specifically. It was simply just . . . Not his vibe. He was the kind of god who liked to shine in the brightest areas, who liked to show off without having to say a word. His style was one way to do it, but what room was there for style in the afterlife? \n\n\"They will learn that their Uncle has a bottomless pit of disposable income and they should visit me often so he can give it away.\" He let a cheeky smile take over his face. \"Is that not the correct lesson to teach them? I never was a good teacher.\" \n\nHe reached a hand up to gently pat her head, sighing as she began to doubt herself. Then he found an easy way to keep his hands busy when her hair fell out of place; he gently brushed it back behind her ear before putting his hand back at his side.\n\n\"*Only* The Goddess of Spring,\" He said with a roll of his eyes. \"As if that isn't a big deal. You are related to *Me,* Seph, and anyone related to me is worth knowing.\" Even his mother, though he would never say so out loud, lest Zeus strike him down from his perch. His lips twitched as he took the next strategy to make it all about himself - trying to drag the negative attention off of her.\n\n\"If Hades holds himself on such a high pedestal, then you need to be standing on one just as tall to reach him. Don't sell yourself short. You've let mother drag you down for too long. It's time you made your own way.\" \n\nHe playfully tried to dodge her touch when she reached for a curl to tame, but then just let her fix it without a fuss. \"Of course you'll miss me. I am completely unforgettable. But don't let that stop you from reaching your goals. I'll still be up here doing what I do best.\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "There was always a subtle dance of emotions between them, an undertone of amusement and exasperation. A slight chuckle escaping from Persephone's lips as she watched Plutus awkwardly work around the turmoil of emotions that was his sister. She had always worn her heart upon her sleeve, whereas Plutus remained an impenetrable wall to those around him. A stoic fortress to any who attempted to break those very walls down. Still, she felt his hand reach out and tuck a curl behind her ear. Let her do the same to his own. A small statement to the true care he held for the little flower he had watched bloom and flourish under his ever watchful gaze. \n\n\"Being related doesn't automatically grant someone worth, dearest brother.\" Though what was a pep talk from the god of wealth, without the inflated sense of self importance casting its shine upon the room. A steadfast confidence that seemed to skip over the youngest bloodline of Demeter. \"If I stand on a pedestal to reach Hades, it is only a false persona I bring to him.\" Biting her lip she rose from the chair and brushed the wrinkles from the trousers that accented her form. \"...But you are right, Mother's shadow is no longer cast over me in the fields, and it is time I realize that and forge my own path.\"\n_ _\n\nA path far from those that stood upon the clouds of Olympus. Noses held high and chaos created in the name of entertainment. The goddess of Spring could not help but hold a form of resentment for the way her ideals had been shaped in their whispers. In the doubts and the downward casts of pity whenever she had dutifully trailed behind Demeter.\n\n*\"...Of course you'll miss me...\"* \n\nA scoff leaving her lips as she shook her head at her dearest brother. \"You may joke your feelings away, Plu, but I need you to know this with absolute certainty. I will miss you every day, and I love you. You have been a solid stone pillar for me to lean upon for as long as I remember. I will move mountains for you, if you simply ask me brother. Do remember all this for me when mother is in your ear berating you for my own actions?\" \n\nHer heels clicked agains the floor as she approached him to leave a gentle kiss upon his cheek. The glass placed upon the table it had been misplaced from before she turned towards the door. Enough sense of knowing that Plutus would likely squirm in her open expressions of affection. Her hand pausing against the ornate door frame as she began to make a graceful exit, the goddess of spring once more. \n_ _\n\n\"Oo and Plu? You overly spoil my children and I will turn your receptionist into the prettiest little plant you ever did see.\" And with that she was gone from his sight. Heels an echo in the distance as she headed towards the uncertainty of a future within the depths of Hades' realm. \n_ _" }, { "author": "Plutus, God of Wealth", "message": "\"In most cases, yes, but considering how much I'm worth, I would say I'm the exception to that rule,\" He joked, but noticing the seriousness in her statement made him change his tone to match, if only for a moment. He couldn't allow his sister to believe she wasn't worth anything without him around. Persephone was worth a million gods, and was certainly better than Plutus could ever hope to be. \"I think . . . You've already started to realize your worth. Why else would you come here telling me exactly what you plan to do?\"\n\nOf course, Plutus couldn't keep from his usual banter for long. The god of wealth was nothing if not unsentimental. He couldn't have people believing he *Cared,* After all, and Persephone had enough of that in her for the both of them. \n\n\"Who's joking? I *Know* You'll miss—\" He started to say the words again, but Persephone beat him to the punch, exposing the beauty of her soul by telling Plutus all the things that might have shaped him into a better god if only he was told the words more often as a child. If only he hadn't been shunned by their own mother because she couldn't bare to look at the face that reminded her of a lost love neither of them were ever getting back. \n\n\"As if she ever does anything else,\" He said, hiding the rest of her touching sentiments behind a smirk where they would stay so he didn't have to think about the pieces of his golden heart chipping away. \"But mother is one thing I can handle myself. Leave her to me.\" \n\nHe pretended to be annoyed with her kiss while leaning down to allow her to reach, rolling his eyes. He didn't return his own, but his arm reached up as if ready to wrap her in a hug, stopping just short. \"Don't let that damn dog eat you on the way in.\"\n\nPulling back, he finished his own drink and set the glass next to her, watching her go with an expressionless stare. But while his face didn't move, didn't twitch, his mind tread through a field of dead flowers. \n\nHer final words - a warning, but one told in jest - made his lips twitch into an almost-smile. \n\nThey would be spoiled rotten." } ]

[ { "author": "dothefandango", "message": "Ares drags his feet in going to the Gala, a son arrives to talk business." }, { "author": "Ares", "message": "Ares stood an imposing figure, dressed in a burgundy turtleneck and grey suit pants; his matching jacket haphazardly abandoned on the back of his black office chair. Standing there in his own office, within his own office building, far from where most would except him in his own district; no he was hidden away his Arachne within the district of Poseidonia. The god of war held a tumbler filled to the brim with whiskey in one hand, a sacrilege to most high class drinkers; even to casual drinkers it was perhaps overkill to have it filled that high. But who would tell Ares no?\n\nSipping from his drink he watched the lines of traffic outside, passing his building as if it was any other office block. Ares scoffed, the fools had no clue how close they were to their own doom. From the Cadmus Block, Ares directly influenced the fate of the world through the secretive Arachne corporation. A network of companies both legitimate and shell that would make the web weaver of the same name jealous. It was a design made specifically to frustrate his greatest rival; that ass of a sister he had, Athena. Steeling himself as he thought of her he did not smash the glass within his hand this time, instead venting his anger out through his nose and breathing in clean positive air by his mouth; before replacing its place upon his tongue with more whiskey.\n\nThis glass was simply one of many 'pre-drinks' as the mortals would say. Surely another invention by that bastard Dionysus to bring more idiots into his parties; although it made no sense to Ares for them to be already drunk before the event.\n\nHaving given specific orders to the staff of this office block to not disturb him; Ares was enjoying some well deserved brooding, alone, behind the shield of blinds that covered his office away from the cubicles of drones he commanded. Ares had no time for mortal problems today, not when he could be causing his own problems.\n.\n\nMoving back towards his desk and away from the window bathed in the evening sun of the port; the dusk coating his office in an orange glow. Ares moved a solitary hand across the handle of his beloved cane. A creation from long ago; a weapon so adaptable that he would never go anywhere without it. One of the employees earlier had suggested leaving the cane behind as the gala would not be a pleasant place for a fight. That employee was now fired. Surely his son would hear about that unnecessary firing eventually; but he would worry about dealing with that hole in the business after.\n\nThe plan thus far was simple, an army of demigods to focus not upon Zeus as Poseidon likely would want; but instead on the forces of Athena. Charity shops and homeless shelters would burn if Athena would not face him herself. After all, it was a god war and Ares was not convinced that she was not working with their father. So in a way he was helping Poseidon, ridding the world of Athena would do everyone a favour. The god of war grinned to this thought, now that was a good idea.\n\nHis hand abandoned his cane, swiftly pulling out a delicate mahogany box from his desk's drawer; unlatching the box to reveal a set of luxurious Cuban cigars alongside a silver lighter in the shape of a pistol alongside a golden cutter. Gifts from a friend in the Golden Circle, a worthwhile investment that had caused conflicts across the whole of America for a long time now; a valued part of his Arachne." }, { "author": "Douglas Miller", "message": "Douglas ran a hand through his hair, slicking it back into place as he stood in the elevator. The demigod, who was as much at home in the stuffy offices of his father's business as he was on the battlefield, gave a sigh as he tried to prepare himself for what was ahead of him. The business shirt and jacket were as crisp and perfect as he could get them and even his shoes were polished to a shine. \n\nOf the many things Ares had imparted on his son over the years was pride in one's appearance and how one was perceived by others. And Douglas took that to heart, always looking his best, hair in order, clothes clean unless he was coming straight from a training session or an actual fight of some kind, and his weapons always in pristine condition. \n\nAnd speaking of weapons, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as Douglas looked at his reflection in the mirrored walls of the elevator and his eyes fell to the dual pistols at his sides. Always his weapon of choice, he preferred guns over most other options. They were simple, clean, and effective, and he didn't have to get his hand quite as dirty. That didn't mean he wasn't proficient in all manner of weapons, the blade slung across his back was a testament to that. \n\nWhile his father could manifest any weapon of his choosing, Douglas could also adeptly wield any weapon put in his hand. It was a terrifying combination but fitting the God of War and his son. Douglas closed his eyes as the elevator continued its slow crawl towards the top floor of the high-rise.\n\n It had been a morning. That was one way of putting it. It had been a day of meetings, discussions, plans, and putting out more than a couple of fires. He might have also started one or two small ones as well, but that was in the job description really. Keep everyone in line, reward those putting in the effort deemed worthy and light a fire under those slacking, and weed out any who were not towing the line for the God of War.\n\nAnd also dealing with the fallout of his father's short temper and a low tolerance for stupidity- another employee gone unceremoniously- another spot to fill to keep things moving smoothly. Douglas knew it could have been much worse. He had seen much worse. So he was fine to simply add that open position to the list of businesses he had to deal with sooner rather than later. \n\nHe had started on the ground floor and worked his way up the chain of command so to speak and now at last he was nearing the top. The final person he had left to meet, was without a doubt the most challenging one of them all – his Father. Being a demigod was a challenge in and of itself. Dealing with the gods and goddesses was a daunting task. But when your own father was the God of War, it just presented a whole new level of delicate balances to try and maintain. Douglas sighed as he watched the numbers on the display count up with each floor he ascended. With each flash of the numbers, he heard a voice. His father's voice. Counting in his head as the memory played out once again clear as anything in his mind's eye.\n\nHis father counting the laps as he ran in the training grounds. His father counting pushups, pullups, and all other manner of workout sets with a stern eye on his son. His father counting targets hit on the firing range. His father counting hits landed during hand-to-hand combat training. His father counting the successes. His father counting the failures. It seemed no matter what he was doing, his father was always keeping score, keeping track, and keeping his son focused on the one goal that mattered- his claim of power.\n\nDouglas was snapped out of his memories when the elevator stopped and the door slid open. One day it would be an actual ascent to power, not just a figurative one as he climbed to the top of the business empire his father was building for himself. As he stood out in the hallway Douglas took a moment to smooth out the imagined wrinkle in his button-up shirt and ran his hand through his hair again as he walked down the hallway and stopped outside his father's office door.\n\nWith a moment's hesitation, he knocked on the heavy door and waited for his father to grant him entrance. He knew better than to open the door to his father's inner sanctum without an invite.\n\n||" }, { "author": "kenneth.greygullhaven", "message": "*Hugs* All good i will copy it and send ya the google doc ad we can get it up and running whenever you are able" } ]

[ { "author": "chirpycloud", "message": "Assigned by Poseidon, Nemesis and Triton reunite to discuss matters of business. However, the heart makes a brief appearance for the pair.\n\nUp to date for responses. Posting below for continuation." }, { "author": "Nemesis", "message": "──────────────────── ❝ *Vengeance is mine . . . * ❞ ────────────────────\nSETTING﹕Weathered Bench over looking the waters. \nPINGS﹕ \nNOTES﹕ Get babysat, boy.\n──────────────────── ❝ *And I will repay.*❞ ────────────────────\n\nAs Triton stood, defiance etched into every line of his being, Nemesis watched, her expression a study in composure. The sea god's words hung heavy in the air between them. The depth of his anguish was not lost on her; it resonated within the hollows of her own heart, where the echoes of their past lingered like the remnants of a storm.\n\nThe bench, worn by time and the caress of the sea, bore witness to the shifting sands of their relationship. Where once sat two beings entwined by passion and understanding, now sat two deities divided by duty and destiny. Nemesis, in her divine wisdom, recognized the futility of rekindling what had been extinguished by the very nature of their existence. Yet, the undercurrents of their shared history, the memories of a love that had once defied the heavens, whispered to her, tempting her to breach the chasm that yawned wide and deep between them.\n\nHis taunts, aimed at her perceived aloofness and unwavering devotion to her divine duties, were designed to provoke. They hinted at the depth of their once-intimate connection, buried under the weight of celestial obligations. For Nemesis, their shared history was not a well of regrets but a crucible that had shaped her. The slight arch of her brow and the almost imperceptible tightening of her lips were the only betrayals of her inner turmoil.\n\n** \"The sea rages, Tri, but it also calms. The wisdom lies in knowing when to unleash the storm and when to let the waters still.\"**\n\nThe ice that crept over Triton's feet, a subtle manifestation of her divine will, was more than a mere display of power. It was a symbol of the fundamental differences that now defined their existence. Where Triton saw it as a challenge, Nemesis viewed it as a reminder—a poignant representation of the balance she was sworn to uphold, especially when it came to matters of the heart.\n\n—————————————————————-\n\n**\"To uphold balance is neither a curse nor a burden but a sacred duty.\"**\n\nShe explained, her voice tinged with the weight of her role. The personal cost of her mandate was something the goddess grappled with in private. Her journey through justice led her on a path she never could have envisioned for herself. Forced to leave home never to return, allyship came in the form of the Sea God.\n\nAs Triton rose, his posture signaling a readiness to confront whatever judgment Nemesis deemed necessary, the atmosphere bristled with the promise of divine reckoning. In this moment of truth, as paths diverged and destinies were sealed, Nemesis stood not just as the arbiter of balance but as a being torn between duty and the remnants of a love that refused to be wholly extinguished.\n\n**\"You are right, it would be a waste of both of our times for me to threaten you again.\"**\n\nGetting in that final jab, she continued.\n\n**\"There has been casual speculation regarding someone intending to turn on the Stormbringer. I am here to work with you on figuring out why and who you think that might be. Since you are the biggest *Sea man* I know.\"**\n\nWith a genuine attempt to coax the man, Nemesis tilted her head, gauging his every reaction. The challenge she presented was twofold: a test of his loyalty not just to his father, but to the broader stability of the realms they both sought to protect. Her gaze, sharpening at every enunciation, sought any flicker of insight, any shadow of doubt that might dance across his features.\n\n||" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "In this age when gods walked the earth and seas, upon the shimmering Aegean's crest, Triton stood beside Nemesis, the sunlight casting its orange glow, outlining his profile. His eyes, like stormy skies over vast expanse, gazed upon his father's bazaar, where mortals dared the ocean gods' mood, unknowing of the divine quarrel. Nemesis' stark beauty, a tempest in disguise, sent by the sea king's decree, honored herself over their love, once deep as trenches of the sea, now lost like ships that sank in ancient lore. Triton's heart upon the ocean's floor. His mind became a whirlpool, dark and scheming as Nemesis, goddess of retribution's might (with scales that balance wrong and right,) stood firm, seemingly coldly indifferent to her lover's plight. In Triton's heart, a storm did brew. A tsunami's wrath, to drown the pain and wash away the memories, once true, of love that turned to disdain. Yet in his soul, a fierce battle raged, between the tempest's fury and the sage, for in her eyes he saw not just a cage, but a chance for their story, a new page.\n\n\"I wrote something when we broke up,\" He said, turning to look down at her. \"Would you mind?\"\n\n\"**I** Love oh how I love to hear\n**L**Oves tender accent greet mine ear\n**O**N peerless fancies I arise\n**V**Eiled in a thousand mystic sighs\n\n**E**Ven as my thoughts at midnight roam\n**A** Hallowed glory seems to come\n**P**Laced and grand to make my breast\n**L**Ucent with gems from pleasures chest\n**U**Nfolding in each gentle glance\n**M**Utual splendor to entrance\n\n**P**Rimal and sweet I see in all\n**A** Transport boundless to enthrall\n**N**Or can I shun so fair a sight\n**D**Azzled with beauty infinite \n\n**R**Ich with perfection do I view\n**O**Verlaid with smiles a charming hue\n**S**Uch as a seraph might posses\n**Y**Ea with its thrilling loveliness\n\n**C**Harming and sweet love feeds my heart\n**U**P in the sky or on life's chart\n**N**O greater joy I see than this\n**T**O suit my soul with pleasures kiss\n\n**Y**Es, yes no greater boon deserve\n**O**N mutual love than love to have\n**U**Naltered thought life's sad carrier\n**B**Ound with a purity sincere\n**E**Ven to truth and linked to peace\n**T**Ill this love vital spark shall case\"\n\nWithout waiting for her to process or comment on it, he walked to the edge of the water. It had turned dark and choppy, with storm clouds on the horizon. The usual glimmer in his eyes had grown cold; he imagined the countless people in the bazaar swept away in his cruel wrath, along with Nemesis, drowned by his broken heart. It was coldly comforting, but as was always the case with Triton, he hesitated. \n\n\"Your arrogance is unbecoming,\" He stated flatly before pivoting to the mission. \"Well then, we must get on this issue of the potential turn coat right away. We can't risk you losing your position as my father's favorite lapdog. I am at your service. Come on.\" Despite his better judgement, he reached out and offered his hand to her, as he had done so many times before. \"Do you have any leads? Any current suspects?" }, { "author": "Nemesis", "message": "──────────────────── ❝ *Vengeance is mine . . . * ❞ ────────────────────\nSETTING﹕Weathered Bench over looking the waters. \nPINGS﹕ \nNOTES﹕ Sexy threats and messy alliances. 😈 \n──────────────────── ❝ *And I will repay.*❞ ────────────────────\n\nAs the final syllable of Triton's recitation faded into the gathering storm clouds, Nemesis stood, her figure a silhouette against the tempestuous backdrop of the Aegean. The song, an acrostic maze of bittersweetness, unfolded before her with the delicacy of a lotus, its petals parting not to reveal enlightenment but a venomous barb. The realization of the message spelled out, an affront to both her dignity and the very essence of her divinity, ignited a fire within her that no ocean could quell. \n\nHer gaze, once a well of infinite calm, now mirrored the disquiet that roiled in the skies above. The goddess felt the tides within her shift, giving way to a barrage of her own making. Nemesis, whose very name is synonymous with equilibrium, found herself on the precipice of unleashing a fury that could rend the heavens asunder.\n\nWhile the inferno of her wrath threatened to consume her, a whisper of wisdom wound its way through the maelstrom of her emotions. It spoke of the weighty mantle she bore, of the countless souls whose fates hung in the balance on her scales. It reminded her that her power, though vast, was not for personal vendetta but for the restoration of order. \n\nDrawing a calming breath, she quelled the inner chaos. The ice that had crept at her feet, once a symbol of her restraint, now reflected the depth of her unwavering resolve. Turning to face Triton, she confronted his provocation with a mixture of reproof and a poignant sense of their shared history.\n\n—————————————————————-\n\n**\"Quite the wordplay, Tri. I see you have improved.\"**\n\nShe began, her tone deceptively casual yet teetering on the edge of the tempest within.\n\n**\"But remember, even the strongest tides bow to the moon's will. Every crest has its fall.\"**\n\nApproaching him, Nemesis let a rare moment of their past intimacy bleed through the veneer of her divine duty. Her hand reached out, deftly pulling at Triton's earlobe in a gesture that blurred the lines between a warning and a caress. Calculatedly, her voice dipped into a seductive timbre.\n\n**\"So let's not forget the abyss I can summon for those foolish enough to *Cross me.*\"** \n\nNemesis murmured, her dark threat veiled as an intimate promise before she recollected herself. Then, as swiftly as a shadow crossed the moon, she pulled away and reverted to her divine stance. Almost as if the words of intimidation never passed her lips.\n\nAs Triton reached out, suggesting they unite against a common foe, Nemesis eyed his hand in a measured stare before shaking it – a temporary truce was formed.\n\n**\"I am working off some rumblings, but the man didn't go into deep detail. I would assume you would have a more... *Colorful* Perspective being his son. What's the word down in the deep blue? Is there truth to the whispers, or is it all just sea foam?\"**" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton's presence was not of the earth, but of the sea, where the secrets of the depths were as known to him as the scars of his own heart. The Aegean, now turbulent under the storm clouds, mirrored his soul, reflecting a darkness both ancient and new. Beside him, Nemesis, with her stark beauty, had a commanding presence that still intimidated him, despite their intertwined pasts. \"In the depths,\" Triton began, \"There's more than just shadows. It's where the heart and the ocean mirror each other, where life itself began.\" His words hung in the air. \"The whispers you've heard carry an elusive truth. Yet, nothing remains hidden forever in the abyss. Even the faintest ripple eventually reaches the shore.\" He paused, looking towards the horizon where lightning danced across the dark waves. \"There are indeed currents of dissent, challenging the rule of my father, threatening the fate of us all.\"\n\nTurning to Nemesis, his gaze held a storm of its own. \"We need to find the one whose ambition has led them to seek chaos. Who stands to gain from turmoil? Who holds a grudge deep enough to betray us? That's where we start.\" Offering his hand as a sign of their uneasy alliance, Triton recognized the importance of their joint effort, even if she was the one put in charge. \"Your scales maintain the balance of the cosmos. Let's ensure they favor order over the approaching chaos.\" Their uneasy truce, born of Poseidon's will and the remnants of a bond that both connected and divided them, was as unpredictable and deep as the roiling sea itself. Still, at this moment, their combined strength was formidable. It always had been.\n\nAs Triton offered his hand, a flicker of something unguarded crossed his face, a mixture of amusement and a deeper, more poignant emotion. \"And as for the poem,\" He added, his voice carrying a lighter note amidst the gravity of their conversation, \"It was crafted in a moment of both inspiration and despair.\" His gaze met Nemesis's, holding a spark that was part amusement, part lust, and tinged with the unmistakable hue of loss. \"I'd like to think it captured the essence of our... Let's call it, 'unique' dynamic.\" The briefest smile played at the corners of his mouth, a rare show of vulnerability. \"It was a tribute to the enigma that is you, Nemesis. Crafted to provoke, to reminisce, and perhaps to incite a reaction that I, in my anger, could not resist.\" There was a pause, a moment where the rocky history between them seemed as palpable as the stormy air that enveloped them. \"In reciting those lines, I was reminded of the depth of what was lost.\" His hand, still extended, symbolized not just an offer of peace, but an acknowledgment of their intertwined fates. Should she choose to take it, they would walk hand in hand down the bazaar to continue their conversation. Should they not, Triton would go alone, as he had done before her." }, { "author": "Nemesis", "message": "──────────────────── ❝ *Vengeance is mine . . . * ❞ ────────────────────\nSETTING﹕Weathered Bench overlooking the waters. \nPINGS﹕ \nNOTES﹕ Thank you for patiently waiting, I hope I delivered.\n──────────────────── ❝ *And I will repay.*❞ ────────────────────\n\nThe Sea God's words faded into the charged atmosphere, and the storm seemed to pause, almost as if the heavens themselves leaned in to catch the undercurrent of his confession. Against the brooding sky, the goddess's form, sculpted like a silhouette, remained outwardly unmoved. Her expression was enigmatic, her eyes reflecting not just the storm above but a tempest of a far more dangerous kind—the swirling chaos of a goddess provoked.\n\n *\"The essence of our dynamic?\"* \n\nNemesis's voice cut through the howling wind, sharp and clear. Her tone, edged with a frost that could chill the bones of any lesser deity, carried a weight that even the roaring sea could not drown out. \n\n**\"A tribute, crafted in a moment of inspiration and despair? Oh, Triton, ever the poet, ever the *Melodramatic.*\"**\n\nShe stepped closer, her movements deliberate, the air around her crackling with divine energy. The sea responded, waves crashing more fervently as if to mirror her rising ire.\n\n**\"Let us not dress this up as anything more than what it is—a desperate cry from a son who knows he is outclassed, outmaneuvered, and-\"**\n\nPausing, her gaze pierced. \n\n **\"*Outmatched.*\"**\n\n—————————————————————-\n\nInternally, however, Nemesis could not completely dismiss the vulnerability Triton displayed. It was a rare glimpse of sincerity that resonated within her, stirring a faint echo of their shared past—a time when their fates were more closely entwined, when love and war were but two sides of the same coin. Yet, this flicker of empathy did not squash her stance but sharpened her resolve, reinforcing the necessity of maintaining her formidable façade.\n\nTriton's extended hand hung between them, an offer yet unanswered. Nemesis looked at it, then back at his eyes, her stare unyielding. \n\n**\"You speak of ripples and currents, but remember—it was I who calmed those waters. It was *I* Who set the scales that could balance the very heavens, and it is *I* Who will decide when the scales tip.\"**\n\nShe stepped forward, closing the gap between them. Her hand shot out, not to accept his but to grasp his wrist, her grip as commanding as the gale that whipped around them.\n\n**\"You are right to remember that every crest has its fall, and you, dearest Tri, are *No exception.*\"**\n\n\nThe words were spoken not just with authority but with an undeniable dominance that reminded him of their past battles—battles where she had always emerged the victor, whether in the throes of divine wrath or the tangled sheets of their once-shared bed.\n\n—————————————————————-\n\nAlmost as if to emphasize her point, Nemesis released him, stepping back. Her figure once again was a stark contrast against the darkening sky. \n\n**\"Go then, compose your songs, weave your words of depths and darkness...\"**\n\nShe explained, her voice tinged with dry amusement.\n\n**\"But never forget, it is not your lyrical prowess that will protect you when the abyss you so fondly speak of comes calling. It is I, Nemesis—the enforcer of justice and keeper of balance—who you will need.\"**\n\nThe revenge goddess continued, slightly softening her tone but still firm in the power that defined her.\n\n**\"Per your offer, we will act together. Not only because your plan has merit, but because it amuses me to see you play a strategist. Lead the way, Tri, but tread carefully—remember who follows and who dictates the flow of *Our* Currents.\"**\n\nWith that, Nemesis allowed a small, mysterious smile to play upon her lips. It was not the warmth of shared secrets but the smirk of a queen watching a pawn maneuver itself into checkmate. As they moved to walk down the bazaar, it was clear who led and who followed, who was the master of fate and who was merely dancing in its shadows." } ]

[ { "author": "briannamccoy", "message": "Mother-Daughter bonding day" }, { "author": "Noelle Costard", "message": "Finally having a free day from working on the next mural she'd started to paint on a bedroom wall out of sheer boredom since the first coat of paint needed to dry before the details got rough sketched in, Noelle spent the first few hours after sunrise assembling the largest basket she had with both a bottle of cider and a lighter wine. Containers were packed of both roasted salmon with a mixed vegetable salad, steak sliced thin and piled onto layers of potatoes with a vaguely spicy cream sauce in between, and a container of peach cobbler with vanilla sauce floated over the top. Once she reached a good spot for the picnic where the women would be able to sit under the umbrella she'd plopped in the sand on top of the comfortably thick blanket, shoes were kicked off and the water of the shoreline was waded into. \n\nCupping the water and literally calling to Amphitrite with breath ruffling over the surface of the salt laden water before letting it slowly trickle back into the waves splashing over her feet, she knew it was the way her mother would immediately come to her if she was free. Noelle smiled softly at the tiny fish flitting around her ankles before walking back over to perch at the picnic set up and wait. The more mundane method of a text was shot off for Esmeray, wishing for her sister to join in on the day too. ||" }, { "author": "Amphitrite", "message": "***Amphitrite had been spending her morning swimming along the coasts. Though she had her own duties to attend to in Atlantis, she often took her time to venture outside of it. Reason being to help the other sea life, as mortals often held them in little regard. There had always been problems with the poor creatures getting stuck in plastics and having their homes ruined, and the sea queen tried to mitigate these circumstances. It was no easy feat, but she always had the job done in no time. She cared too much for the marine life to let it slide past her gaze. It just so happened she came across a sea turtle, with a fisherman's hook and line wrapped around its left fin. Amphitrite spoke soothingly to the turtle, all while she did her best to free her from the line she was caught in. Once she freed the turtle, she summoned her dolphins to escort it back to Atlantis. She wasn't too experienced in veterinary practices, but there were others back home who could help the poor sea turtle be nursed back to health. The sea queen went about her swimming after this ordeal, that is until she heard the familiar voice calling her name.***\n\n~\n\n***Once upon a time, Poseidon had once again cheated on Amphitrite with yet another mortal. She did the same as she always did when this happened, retaliated against him. Though she may be as calm as the waters, there was no limit to her retaliations and petty behavior against her husband. She felt if he could do it, then so could she. She could calm him yes, but she wasn't one to cower before him. She would match the energy he gave her. That is exactly what she did too, she found herself a mortal to lay with behind his back. Just as he did to her. The sea goddess was often careful, but her anger had overshadowed rational thought. It was after she laid with the mortal she had a demigod daughter, one she named Noelle. Poseidon was far from happy, and wished nothing to do with the child. Whereas Amphitrite wanted everything to do with her daughter. From the time Noelle was born, she saw that she would be a spitting image of herself in temperament. She did her best to raise her, leaving her in the care of others when she couldn't be around. But Amphi made sure she was present in her life as much as possible.*** \n\n~\n\n***The voice she heard was none other than Noelle's. As taught from a young age, all she needed to do was call for her from the water. Smiling to herself, Amphitrite swam as quick as she could towards the echoes of her voice. Soon enough, the sea queen emerged from the water. Bare feet digging in the sand as she walked up to the coast, seeing her beloved daughter sitting on a blanket and waiting her arrival. Amphi walked up to the little picnic she had set up, taking a seat and hugging Noelle gently.*** \"My beautiful daughter, it is good to see you again. I trust you have been doing well?\" ***She asked with a soft smile, sea blue eyes looking at the little set up now.*** \"This is a lovely little set up, are we to be having a picnic together?\"" } ]

[ { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "The unanswered calls and texts were getting old. Esmeray locked her phone and put it in her pocket as she stared up at the obscenely white house. It was beautiful, the white sandstone and stone walkway like a prelude to what was held within. She couldn't fault her brother for being utterly predictable as the gods had a knack for taking their aesthetics a step too far. But something about it made her gut twist. She would have thought, like her, he would want to stray away from the consistencies of their kin but here it was like a painting honoring that of which their father gave him. She also knew it was a part of him more than it was her. \n\nEsmeray climbed the steps and opened the door, looking around for any indication that he wasn't home alone. She didn't find the need to knock or ring the doorbell when he wouldn't even answer her texts but she also didn't want to intrude on anything else that may be taking place. She sighed as she stepped inside and shut the bright blue door behind her. The front room was intense, the white of the outside in parallel to the inside made it look both large and empty. The house was beautiful and the intricate design felt like a museum compared to her place at the sanctum. \n\n\"What a way to live.\" She whispered as she walked through the house, peaking into each room as she passed them, all of them as spotless and minimal as the last. \n\n\"Tri, are you here?\" The words echoed down the hall ricocheted against the almost blank walls. A room at the end of the hall looked darker than the rest, the curtains closed to drive out the sunlight. The perfect place to lay and waste a day away. \"Tri, what the crap man?\"\n\n\nEsmeray stepped in the room. His form lay twisted within the white sheets of his bed, the tan of his skin sticking out in stark contrast. It was sad that he was here moping like a neutered puppy. She had known that Nemesis had broken up with him but he was a good-looking man who probably had women flooding his social media. Nemesis\n\nWas probably in the pubs or at the coffee shop, meeting the next person she would catch within her grasp. \n\n\"Get out of bed.\" She pulled the sheets off of him and threw them on the floor. She wasn't estranged to nudity, a normal occurrence in the world of gods and goddesses with a heavy sense of vanity but she looked away from her brother's bed despite not knowing what he had or didn't have on. She was not in the mood to scrub her eyes with bleach today. \n\n\"I don't understand your need to mope around. I mean I would also be upset if Nemesis broke up with me but that's beside the point.\" Esmeray walked towards the windows and pulled the cord to open the blinds. The sun was shining upon Olympus today and it seemed as if the storm clouds were keeping their distance despite the turmoil that seemed to be a constant within them. It was almost a sin to be locked inside on a rare day such as this. \"You are a god so act like one.\" \n\nShe continued to trek through Triton's room, opening a drawer and throwing a shirt and pants at him. He needed a shower more than anything but getting him out of bed was the least she could do." }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton found himself rudely awakened from his melancholic slumber by the familiar, commanding presence of his half-sister, Esmeray. Despite the tumult of emotions swirling within him due to his breakup with Nemesis, Triton couldn't help but feel a slight irritation at his sister's unannounced intrusion. When she wasn't letting herself in she was making fun of his pad and how he chose to decorate it, a sore spot for the God of the Sea. And yes, sure, he had been ignoring her calls, but he'd always been a bit absent-minded when it came to maintaining relationships. She should be used to it. It had nothing to do with the breakup... Right? With the ease and nonchalance that often carried himself with, he slowly sat up in bed, the stark contrast between his tanned skin and the pristine white sheets highlighting his solitary form. Triton was indeed as naked as the day he was born, not seeming to care one bit. It wasn't the first time she'd seen him, and it wouldn't be the last. \n\nEsmeray's actions, from stripping the sheets off his bed to forcibly opening the blinds, were met with a passive resistance. Triton's gaze followed her movements, the sunlight now flooding the room and dispelling the shadows that had been his only companions in his self-imposed exile. He squinted and muttered under his breath. Despite his annoyance at her intrusion and her insistence that he *Act like a god,* There was a begrudging respect for her and her ways. In a world where gods and goddesses often navigated their existences with a blend of vanity and power, Esmeray's blunt concern pierced through all of the bullshit.\n\nIgnoring Esmeray's chastising words, Triton's focus was drawn to the small, neatly rolled spliff he had left on his bedside table the night before. Picking it up, along with a black lighter, he lit it and inhaled deeply, not her disapproving gaze from the corner of his eye. He hadn't always smoked, but since picking up the habit he had come to enjoy it. It mellowed him out and gave him a sense of ritual. It helped him keep things in perspective. Tilting his head back, he exhaled a plume of smoke up towards the ceiling, still not having said a word. Just when it appeared he was about to speak, he inhaled deeply again from the joint, smoke swirling around him like the ocean currents he commanded, Triton exuding an air of affected indifference. His sister's attempts to motivate him, to remind him of his divine heritage and responsibilities, were met with a silent, smoky exhale. Though part of him acknowledged the truth in her words, the rawness of his feelings made the thought of facing the world outside his sanctum unbearable.\n\n\"I don't recall inviting you over to lecture me, Ray Ray,\" He finally said, rubbing his eyes. \n\nYet, even as she tossed a shirt and pants at him, signaling a demand for him to get up and get moving, Triton felt anchored in place. It had already been a few months, but the mention of Nemesis was still like an open wound. He had really liked her, even if he did find her rigid and insufferably stubborn. The woman was positively unbending, unreasonable, and unfuckingbelievable too. Holding the spliff between his lips, he finally got out of bed and put his jeans on. No need for a shirt. They hung low on his hips as he walked passed his sister, heading out to the kitchen. He cracked open a beer from the fridge and then opened the door leading to the balcony patio overlooking the Aegean Sea. Sitting, he set his beer on the table and glanced over his shoulder to see her following close behind.\n\n\"So, what is it now? The old man giving you hell again?\" He chuckled, kicking his feet up onto the railing." }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "The smoke seemed to hover above her head as she stared daggers at his head. The low sense of self preservation and the attitude was not something she wanted to deal with today. She had asked to speak with him because he was the only one she knew who could relate to her unrelenting problem but had seemed to stumble upon him waking up on the wrong side of the bed. \n\n\"Maybe next time you should answer your phone so you don't have to see my pretty face when you wake up.\" She followed him out onto the balcony and looked over the railing. The water was beautiful today, the soft waves crashing ashore and the smell of sea crisp in the air. She'd probably love the sea more if it wasn't for the harsh feelings she had behind one of the men who controlled it. A part of her always calling out to the void that had yet to be mended. \n\nShe turned to him as another puff of smoke hit her face. \"I'll ask you *Nicely* Once before I take that and throw it over the balcony.\" The tone of her voice was as if she wasn't asking at all but demanding him. Her face was flat, showing her general seriousness. While she normally didn't mind someone's habits, something about her brothers made her irritable. He was better than this. \n\n\"Considering this is the first time he's ever spoken or laid eyes on me you could say hell was exactly what he gave me.\" The coolness of her voice had slowly transitioned into one of grief, a daughter who was scorned by a *Faultless* Father. She grabbed Triton's beer from the table and took a swig, her nose instantly turning up in disgust. \"I would have thought you had better taste in beer than this.\" \n\nEsmeray sighed and put the bottle back down on the table, falling swiftly into the accompanying seat. She had so much to say but didn't know where to start." }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "A hint of irritation flashed in his cerulean eyes as he gave her the side-eye. \"You know I enjoy your pretty face, just not when it shows up unannounced. I don't think my phone is even charged—never liked the things, personally. Always tracking your whereabouts, listening to your conversations. Nah. That shit responsible for poisoning society. You should really get off of it. You'll feel better. Might make you less upright,\" He added, knowing that would stick in her craw. The siblings were close and knew just how to get under each other's skin. He followed her gaze out over the ocean, and he took a deep breath, inhaling the salty sea air. Fishing ships and commercial vessels dotted the horizon, maneuvering this way and that, blowing their horns and going full steam ahead. \"Meditation and water are wedded forever, aren't they? Can't help but get introspective when staring out over its great blue expanse.\"\n\nHe ashed the spliff before taking another puff, smirking. \"And I'll throw you right over after it.\" Always butting heads, these two. He had grown weary of her bossing him around all of the time, and was in just the right kind of mood, given everything that has happened, to push back. \"This is the only thing keeping me sane right now. I swear, everyone has lost their goddamn minds.\" Standing, he swiped the beer from her and said, \"You've always struck me as more of a Chardonay kind of girl,\" Before taking another swig. Leaning his elbows on the railing, he stared out thoughtfully, the breeze blowing a stray strand of hair from his face. \"The old man is impossible. His whoring around isn't your fault. You shouldn't expect too much from him. I'm his first born and he doesn't give me the time of day... Fuck it, let's talk about something else. There's nothing more boring than daddy issues. Unless you need to *Vent*.\" It was clear she had come here to unload all of her problems onto him, but he figured they both didn't need to be wallowing right now.\n\nHe sat back down next to her, taking one last hit before flicking the spliff into the half-empty can of beer. It gave a satisfying hiss before he set it down and crossed his ankles in front of him, stretching out languidly. \"I'm just about done with the lot of them.\" Esmeray had heard this all before. Triton seemed to be perpetually stuck in neutral, unable to choose a path and stick with it. \"Did I tell you he has Nemesis babysitting me now? I'm at her beck and call. It's the *Worst*. If she barks one more order at me, I swear, I might just impale her with my trident.\"" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "Esmeray wanted to ignore the comment but he sounded like the mortal conspiracy theorists who wore tin on their heads and prepared for doomsday. Although, now that she thought about it, the prepping was probably smarter than she originally gave them credit for. She waved it off knowing she didn't form quite as big of an attachment as he so believed. Her ties to the phone only in the form of communication which he seemed to lack. \"We half mortals are not as blessed to have Hermes at our beck and call.\" Though she knew the god had far too much to do to actually be at anyone's beck and call it was a fun jab to throw out. \n\nWhen he stood and took the bottle back she glanced at him, looking for indication that he wasn't a full blown mess like he was seeming to be but she could see the sadness in his blue eyes and a weight on his shoulders. He called her uptight but he was so held down in whatever was disabling him that he had no room to talk.\n \n\"Chardonnay is meh, I really could go for gin or rum.\" The talk of alcohol and drugs was a short distraction for both of them. A cover for the emotions that they both held but didn't want to speak of, a small ode to each other knowing that the true conversations they wanted to have were too heavy. That only translated over further when he dismissed the talk of their father. She could understand it, the constant disappointment that they held for and with Poseidon. It was always a weight they would hold no matter how much they talked about it. \n\nWhat did escape his mouth next was what surprised her, an admission to something that she could so easily weaponize against him. The half- siblings had always been the type to bicker, the bossy younger sister and the melancholy eldest brother who, a majority of the time, took it fairly well.\n\n\"You did not just tell me that,\" She said as a ornery grin lit up her face. She leaned forward in her seat and stared at him, her mouth slightly ajar with shock. \"First off, can she babysit me too? Second, you known she'd absolutely annialate you.\" She wanted to stand up and look for baby monitors as if she were watching them right now but knew he said it in both confidence and seriousness. She straightened and pulled her lips in her mouth as to keep the smile off of her face. \"Why is she babysitting you? Its not like you do anything.\"" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton grinned lopsidedly at her, rolling his eyes and saying, \"Oh, yes, that's right, you're one of those *Half breeds.* You're just as annoying as the rest of the full fledged Gods that I'm always forgetting. Still, that shit will rot your brain.\" He wasn't interested in solving her problems, just gleefully pointing them out. \"Come on, let's go inside and play some music.\" Triton had an old record player because of course he did. *Vinyl just sounds better,* He'd say, with absolutely no proof. He shuffled through his collection, a connoisseur thoughtfully perusing before making his selection. He landed on Lynyrd Skynyrd, ignoring any potential protest on his way to laying on the couch. \n\n\"Our father is an asshole,\" He began, circling back to the topic he'd previously dismissed. If I were you, I'd keep my distance—honestly, you're not missing much.\" Arms behind his head, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to turn off his brain and just listen to the music. It was *The Ballad of Curtis Loew.* He was mellow until the conversation spun back around to Nemesis. His eyes narrowed on his sister, and he said, \"Annihilate me? Please.\" Irritated, he sat up and pointed at her. \"I told you that in confidence. I don't need the whole world knowing. And I don't know why the old man put her in charge of me. Maybe just to mess with me. Who knows. I'm trying not to dwell on it.\" Clearly, he was though.\n\n\"I do plenty. What do you do, hm? Besides arrive unannounced and annoy me.\" Thins were getting a little testy now, the playful banter mixing with more serious, threatening tones. It was emblematic if Triton's entire life of running hot and then cold, but never settling on one. Perhaps he was the God of Indecisiveness. \"Seriously though, what do you have going on? I've been so caught up in all of the shit with Nemesis that I haven't asked in a while. Do me a favor and stay away from her.\"" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "Esmeray stood despite the internal want to stay in the sun while it was out. She traced her hand over the chairs as she reluctantly followed him into the house and watched as he looked through the collection with intent. She was slightly impressed, being a lover of vinyl herself, as she saw him flip through a couple of valuable ones. She walked over, squatted before the collection and sifted through it as he spoke. \n\n\"I think I just hate that the only true family I have left are all gods who have more problems than me.\" A weak smile met the words, she would have appologized but they both new what she said was true. She pulled up a record 'The Animals' in perfect original condition and examined it. She appreciated his taste in music, the melancholic jazz seemed to fit her melancholic brother to a tee. He made it way to easy. She put the record back and stood looking at him laying on the couch on the edge between anger and not giving a fuck. She had to give it to him, he was trying hard but everytime Nemesis' name was spoken it was as if she was there in the room with them and with every fiber of her being she felt the need to push him just over the edge. \n\n\"We both know without the sea you are nothing against Nemesis. Heck, you are nothing against me either.\" With a small wave of her hand she made the plant in the corner sprout to life, she wouldn't push her powers to far, it wasn't a threat as much as it was a implication to the truth behind her words. \"But that's not the point of this conversation. He may think you could switch sides at any moment. The only downside of Nemesis,\" She paused for a moment, \"And you, is the alignment with him.\" She rolled her eyes as she leaned back against the small table, resting her hands on both sides of her to keep steady. She knew her brother's alignment currently resided with their father despite her constant push to get him to go against their fathers wishes. Something told her that it would take quite a bit to get him out from\n\nUnder Poseidon's thumb but she would try. \n\n\"I'm trying to stand up for the other half of me, the innocent souls that are caught up in godly manners that have nothing to do with them. He would kill the entirety of humanity and not even blink. He doesn't care that his wrath is effecting the balance of life and death, all he cares about is being superior and holding all the power. I'm actively looking for a way to protect life, that is what I've been up too. So what is the *Plenty* That you do? Because all I see is a sad excuse for a man who is held up in a house to wollow in self pity.\" The anger had festered farther than she expected it to, the true thoughts and emotions that were brewing underneath the surface finally spilling out in ripples." }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "\"You can borrow it, if you'd like,\" He said, upnodding at the vinyl of 'The Animals' that she was admiring. Even amidst their quarreling and sibling rivalry, he still had a small soft spot for her, believe it or not. But a single gesture of kindness did not a truce make. \n\nThe air in the interior of the house was been well-circulated by the warm breeze of the Aegean. As he looked around its arched thresholds, he quietly appreciated rich textures of stone and the comforting touch of terracotta tiles. The air was tinged with the scent of sea salt, mingling with the faint aroma of olive oil and oregano that drifted from his kitchen, where traditional meals were often prepared for one.\n\nStreams of sunlight poured through the blue-framed door, painting a ballet of light and shadow upon the pristine white walls, which bore rustic ornaments and modest artwork. It also served to illuminate his sister, enhancing what was already her stunning beauty. The furniture, with its time-softened grace—from the ornately carved wooden cabinets to the charming ceramic pieces—seemed to recount fables of Greek lore, some of which inspired by Triton himself. Lynyrd Skynyrd continued to serenaded them both, along with the distant cries of seagulls and the rhythmic sound of waves kissing the shore. Triton's home was right on the water, of course. The home's closeness to the water served as a perpetual homage to Poseidon. But perhaps more pragmatically, it kept him close to the source of his power.\n\nTriton glanced over at the plant sprouting to life under the willful concentration of Esmeray, a smirk spreading across his face. \"Oh please, sister. Your piddling powers have clouded your mind.\" He stood slowly and approached her, searching her eyes as if he could read her very soul. \"I don't consider myself aligned with him as much as I'm not aligned *Against* Him,\" He shrugged, standing before her now. \"Your battle is not my own. And I don't appreciate you threatening me in my own home either.\"\n\nHe draped his arm over her shoulder, drawing her into him in a half-hug, half-headlock kind of way. He felt stronger than she may have remembered. \"I think it's time you hit the road, dear sister. I've suffered enough of your insults for one day.\" He pressed his hand to her back, guiding her towards the door, moving away from the living room and down the hall.\n\n||" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "Esmeray studied her brother, his anger coming to life with her words. She knew she might have pressed just enough to get some sort of rise out of him but his words expelled the truth. His blue eyes meeting hers in a cold and quiet combat. \n\n\"Please, deflate your ego. It wasn't a threat.\" But it could be if he wasn't careful. She waved her hand at him as if both to keep him from coming close and dismiss him from allocation of actions he did not mean. She stood her ground as he grew closer anyways, bowing up to him to let him know she was not backing down. He may have a few inches on her and the full blood of gods but she wouldn't let that wouldn't intimidate her. He felt threatened so he retaliated. She couldn't blame him. \"What is your battle then, Tri? Because it sounds to me the only real reason for picking his side is fear and possible self preservation.\" \n\nShe tried to duck out of his way as his arm draped around her neck but he was quicker and a little stronger than she was expecting. 'I think it's time for you to hit the road, dear sister...' She put her arms along his side pushing away so that she could be set loose from his *Embrace*. She took a few steps from him and braced herself for whatever he had up his sleeve next. \n\n\"You aren't going to just kick me out because your feelings hurt. If you are so quick to anger then what I'm saying runs true. So do something about it.\" She threw her hands up with her words. Here he was living in a luxurious home by the sea, which she didn't let slip her mind as she pushed his buttons more and more. \n\nThe sound serenity of the world was like a chorus of tranquility around them. The soft sounds clashing together with the aire of discourse was tight against them. She was such a loyal person and as much as she wanted to show him that, she couldn't do that if he was acting like this. \n\nEsmeray looked at the door and then at him. She could leave here and end the hostility that had somehow crossed between them or she could try\n\nTo convince him to act. She hoped it would be with humanity or even with the side that kept Zeus upon his thrown but she knew at the rate he was going, she would most likely push him further into the clutches of their father. \n\n \"Don't let him control you your entire life.\" She whispered just loud enough to hear over the music and crashing waves." }, { "author": "Amphitrite", "message": "***Amphitrite had decided it was time to pay her sweet, loving, and often irritating son a visit to his home. Poseidonia was a beautiful quarter in the City of Olympian. Perhaps one of her favorites since the houses sat right along the beach. She did her best to remain in contact with him, despite her own marital struggles. Her phone remained silent despite the many calls and texts to him, igniting a growing annoyance towards him for his lack of communication. Just like his father good riddance, she thought to herself. Just like his father, terrible with communication of any kind if it doesn't involve fighting.*** \n\n***She climbed the steps towards Triton's house, a beautifully designed white exterior. With steps leading up to it. Beauty on the outside... But would it be as neat on the inside. She only came to check on his well-being, not to have to chide him for disgusting living preferences. She made it to the blue door, not even bothering to knock. Why should she? She is his mother after all. She pushed open the door, stepping inside immediately. Her sandals softly tapping along the floor as she glided inside. Her nose scrunching in distaste at the sight before her. It reeked of weed, seeing it littered along the tables and floors with bottles of alcohol. It was horrifying to witness in her eyes. Such a beautiful home, destroyed by a complete slob.*** \n\n***Her blue eyes instantly settled on Triton, and her step-daughter Esmeray. A beautiful young woman she adored, despite her being a product of one of Poseidon's numerous infidelities. She didn't blame her for the man's idiocy, she is innocent in all of it. Amphitrite crossed her arms, tapping her foot on the ground. Watching as they fell silent, her eyes glaring at her son. Her voice cutting through the air, filled with her disapproval at him.*** \n\n\"So this is how you treat the lovely home you have, by leaving alcohol bottles all over the ground? Not to mention the stench of weed? It is unspeakable, what is the mean\n\nIng of this Triton?\" \n\n***She questioned him, stepping closer. She offered a kind smile to Esmeray, quickly engulfing her in a hug.***\n\n\"Sweet child, I hope you have been well lately. We need to spend some more time together truly. Do you know the meaning of this?\" \n\n***Amphitrite, kept her eyes on Triton. Looking at him expectantly. She was giving him the chance to tell her the full, honest truth. Before she decided she would have to become forceful. Her blue eyes took a quick glance around, before she left today this house would be cleaner than it has been in gods knows how long.*** \n\n\"I am insanely disappointed in you Triton. I call and I text, and what do I get? Silence. Complete, utter silence. I birthed you and raised you, the least you could do is pick up your damn phone and let your mother know you are alive and well. Though by the looks of it you are more alive than actually well.\" \n\n***She huffed, feeling her temper flare up only slightly. She had to remain as calm as can be, and so she took in a few deep breaths. Letting peace wash over her, listening to the waves outside to keep herself from completely losing it on her own son. She loved him greatly, but in moments like these she often found herself losing her temper. Whenever he didn't uphold the standards she taught him, it brought her disappointment. She knew he could do better, she always told him he could do better no matter what.***" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton felt a familiar pounding in his head as Esmeray was just unrelenting in her incessant criticism and need to be right. He cracked his neck and smoothed his hair back, synching his manbun tighter as he regarded her with weary eyes. He was too hung over for this. \"Right now, my battle is you,\" He said, adding, \"Go deal with your daddy issues yourself and stop trying to recruit me.\" After she managed to slip away from his grasp he walked back to the couch and sat down to roll a cigarette. A half-full ashtray sat nearby, surrounded by empty beer cans and a red pair of women's panties. When Esmeray threw her hands up, squaring up to him, he laughed, not taking her seriously. \"The only thing that's true is that Nemesis is as emotionally cold as a cod fish. I've just about had my fill of stubborn women, present company included. So, If you don't mind...\" He licked the rolling paper and sealed it shut, popping the cigarette between his lips while reaching for the silver Zippo on the table and lighting it.\n\nThe tobacco helped calm his nerves... That is, until his mother, Amphirite entered unexpectedly. The color drained from his face, and an audible groan escaped him as he pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered, \"Oh jeezus...\" He blew a stream of smoke from his nostrils and stood up, eyeing his mother before looking around the place and shrugging his shoulders. \"Come on, it's not that bad. Don't be such a nag.\" He watched the two women embrace with a distant gaze, his mind wondering back to the ocean. If he just made for the balcony and jumped, he could make it to the water in no time. He simply couldn't be bothered with all this family drama. \"Relax, mother, fucking hell. I was just telling my lovely sister here that I don't really use my phone anymore, which is why I haven't been returning either of your calls. I'm trying to unplug and live more *Authentically*. It's all the rage right now. You should try it.\" Was he being condescending? Maybe.\n\n\"Well aren't you two just a couple of peas in a pod. Hey! I have a great idea. Why don't you girls go have a spa day. You can get your nails done, get facials, full body massages... It'll be great. I'll even pay for it if you agree to just get the fuck out of my house so I can have a little peace and quiet. Is that too much to ask?\" Triton delivered a quick peck to his mother's cheek as he breezed by her to the fridge, where he grabbed a cold slice of pizza from last night. Meanwhile, the Ballad of Curtis Loew finished, and Lynyrd Skynyrd was on to singing about Tuesday being gone with the wind, or some such poetic metaphor. Triton just wanted to zone out and listen while people watching from the balcony, but first the harpies needed to go." }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "Esmerays stared straight into her brother's dazed eyes, the effects of the medicinal crop and the words in which he spoke made him seem as if he was far less emotional than he was. She wanted to wrap him within her vines and strangle him until he fell out of his rut. She reached her hands out like she was going to strangle him with just her bare hands but quickly dropped them. He was hurt, broken, and lonely. Taking his frustrations out on the only person in his vicinity, who was also pushing his buttons. He spoke of daddy issues like he didn't equally share the burden. \n\n\"She walked to the counter, where she had seen his phone, and grabbed it. It was dead, just like he originally stated but she couldn't help but note how cracked the screen was as well. She walked to the couch and threw his phone at him before walking towards the door. \"Charge your damn phone, Tri.\" \n\nShe was so close to giving him what he asked for but as soon as she did Amphitrite walked through the door. The way she entranced a room was admirable, her beauty and grace just as amazing as the first day they met. Esmeray smiled as Amphitrite pulled her into a hug, she wrapped her arms around her small frame and gave her a loving squeeze before she pulled away. 'Sweet child, I hope you have been well lately. We need to spend some more time together truly. Do you know the meaning of this?'\n\n\"Seems as if someone has broken his heart.\" She held her tongue from saying what she truly wanted to say. Trying to mind her own in front of her step mother. Esmeray wanted to stick her tongue out at Triton as he walked, the childlike side of her being pulled out as if by magic. \n\n\"Why don't you go with us? Your treat. We can even invite Nemesis.\" She clasped her hands together and smiled. Proud of herself for the quick retort to his words." }, { "author": "Amphitrite", "message": "***Amphitrite had released Esmeray from the hug, her arms now crossed as she glared at her beloved son. Blue eyes filled with irritation towards him. She loved him, more than anything. But this attitude of his often annoyed her to no end. She looked around his living room once more, her face contorting into one of disgust. She was sure that his floor had all sorts of dirt in it, thankfully she had worn her favorite sandals for this occasion. She tapped her foot against the floor, staring at him in utter silence. Letting it hang in the air that she was more than displeased now. She couldn't believe how he had spoken to her. Finally, after a few moments of her silence, she spoke up. Her voice calm, a little too calm for how he had spoken to her thus far.*** \n\n\"Jeezus? Is that how you greet me these days? Not that bad? Triton it reeks in here, I can practically smell the alcohol seeping from your pores. It is a pigsty, I know I raised you better than this. This house is not a dumping ground. It is hardly nagging considering the absolute state of this beautiful home\" \n\n***She pinched the bridge of her nose, taking in a deep breath to calm herself. She was more than grateful for Esmeray here, at least someone else cared enough to check on him.***\n\n\"Relax? This attitude of yours is out of hand Triton, it is disrespectful as hell. Is your mother not allowed to worry about you? For all I know you could have been dead somewhere in the city, or kidnapped. Perhaps next time I ought to not even give a thought to you since it is such a problem. You can live as authentically as you wish, but you could think of the mere fact people who care about you will worry. You want me to stop caring Triton? Because I certainly can grant that wish for you\" \n\n***Amphitrite spoke with venom laced in her voice, only matching the energy her son wished to give her. She turned her attention to Esmeray, needing a break from her child's time wasting tantrum he seemed to be throwing at her. She smiled\n\nWarmly at her, tilting her head slightly.*** \n\n\"I am very happy to see you here, it helps knowing others care about him too. As for this breakup now, I was unaware he was even with someone. Triton, do you wish to tell me or should I continue to ask Esmeray?\" \n\n***She said with a tight smile. Amphitrite, while grateful for even his little display of affection, glared at Triton once more. Her eyes shooting daggers into his back, slightly twitching from her growing annoyance towards him. Sighing heavily, she looked between the two.*** \n\n\"First I want to know what Nemesis has to do with this. Secondly, Triton you aren't getting rid of us this easy. We are staying right here, perhaps we should even move in with you. Or you could come back home to Atlantis, either way you are not allowed to be alone if this is the kind of behavior you are indulging in\"" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton bit into the piece of pepperoni pizza, chewing slowly while looking between his mother and sister with a calculating gaze. \"Don't touch my shit, Ray Ray. You worry about your phone and I'll worry about mine. I mean what the fuck, I didn't even invite you over and you're busting my balls non-stop.\" The overt display of affection between the women annoyed him for reasons he couldn't quite put his finger on, but existed nonetheless. \n\nFinishing his slice, he walked over to the mantlepiece and removed his silver trident that was displayed on the wall. Triton's trident, a symbol of his dominion over the ocean's vast expanse, was an artifact of unparalleled magnificence and power. Forged in the heart of a dying star and cooled in the deepest abyss of the Mariana Trench, its handle was crafted from the purest silver, mined from the sacred lunar craters by forgotten celestial beings. The metal, imbued with the luminescent glow of moonlight, shimmered with an ethereal light, its surface adorned with intricate engravings that depicted the ebb and flow of tides. The trident's three prongs were sharper than the fangs of the mightiest sea monster, each one gleaming with an inner light that mirrors the stars themselves. At the junction where the prongs meet the shaft, a sapphire of the deepest blue is set.\n\n\"How about you keep her name out of your mouth, sis,\" He snapped, tapping his fingers along the trident thoughtfully. Turning towards his mother, he simply shook his head, trying to keep his cool. \"You need to respect my boundaries, mother. I apologize if I worried you, but I am a grown man and will live life as I choose, whether you approve or not. This is my home, and you'll respect that it is not yours. Now, if you must know, Nemesis was a woman I was seeing. It didn't work out, and it really bummed me out. I'll be fine, just let me wallow for a while. And for fuck's sake, neither one of you try talking to her. It's over, and I'm moving on.\"\n\nTriton walked back out to the balcony, right on the water, and looked over the Aegean Sea fondly. It was only here that he felt safe and in control, listening to the water, which called to him even now. Perhaps no God, even Poseidon himself, was more a part of the sea than Triton. Turning around, he pointed his trident at them, the silver surface catching the light of the sun and reflecting it towards them. \"I will go out and have a nice day with you both when I am ready. But for now, I have asked you to leave. Respect me and my wishes, and do not escalate this situation any further.\" There was an implicit threat in his words, made more powerful against the backdrop of the sea, the source of his might. Should they fail to heed his final warning, there was no telling what Triton might do." }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "Esmeray watched as he paced towards his trident, removing it from its rightful place and handling it like he was going to war. That small act of defiance, a threat of sorts to his own kin. She tried to let it slide but that sense of unease bubbled in her stomach.\n\n\"Oh, for goodness sakes. Is it really that bad?\" She rolled her eyes into their closure as her hands reached her temples. His words quickly moved from her to his mother making Esmeray's eyes pop open and jaw go slack. The words showed how truly upset he was. He had come for her, that was fine. She was the annoying little sister and she could take it but the words he had used for his own mother were disrespectful. \n\n\nEsmeray made eye contact with Amph briefly before looking back to her brother. She moved her hand behind her back and flicked her wrist, the vines spring out from the plant in the corner and wrapped around his ankles and wrists. They pulled tight on the ligaments in his forearms to try and force him to drop the trident before she had to force it from his hands and give it to Amph herself. His temper was showing far too much, the similarities in him and their father now clear more than ever. That fact only caused a spark of anger to feed the vines, the constriction on his wrists pulling tighter. \n\n\"If you don't get off your high horse, I swear.\" She paused and took a breath trying to contain her frustration. \"You have two people here trying to help you, to look out for you and you are just letting your anger get to you. I don't understand why you feel the need to kick us aside. You are just like him.\" Her eyes grew wide at her final remark as she looked into his blue eyes. She said the words faster than she could think, something she wasn't prone to doing. But that led her saying something she didn't necessarily think was true.\n\n'...Do not escalate this situation any further.' The threat was there and the moves had already been made. Esmeray stepped forward and squeezed her fist shut. The vines reacted pulling him to his knees." }, { "author": "Amphitrite", "message": "***Amphitrite watched on in pure disappointment. She could hardly believe how he spoke to his half sister, how little he seemed to care about her own feelings. She could feel her anger, bubbling just below the surface. Her usual calm exterior, slowly cracking the more he spoke. Always the calm one she was, yet her son was truly testing just how far he could push the sea goddess. She may calm the waters, but she held a fire within her. And Triton was stoking the fire.*** \n\n~\n\n***She eyed Triton as he grabbed his Trident. A handcrafted piece gifted to him, beautiful and deadly all at once. A piece of art he now paced with in his hands, coming to a stop. And Amphi finding herself being pointed at with it. She uncrossed her arms, her once bright eyes darkening. She didn't fear her own son, instead she walked closer to him. Letting him see just how much rage she had tried so hard to contain. What was it about Nemesis that set him off so much? Had she broken his heart enough he no longer cared who he hurt? The goddess wouldn't stand for it, her voice loud and commanding whilst she spoke.*** \n\n~\n\n\"Triton, you cease this disrespect towards me and your sister. I couldn't give a single fuck about talking to Nemesis, I give one about you. Now suck it up and stop being a toddler, she is not worth any of this. You are moving on? It certainly looks like the opposite. Grow the fuck up Triton, end this now. You can tell me to leave all you want, I will still be here. I am your mother, and she is your sister. We are family, and I will not tolerate ANY of this nonsense towards it. I will respect your boundaries when you are capable of having any, do you understand?\"\n\n~\n\n***It was far from a question, he would understand. He would do as she wished, or there would be consequences. It was when Esmeray grew tired of him, that she smiled in pride. Watching as her son was brought to his knees by vines, served him right for threatening his own kin. Amphitrite now held the trident in her hands, playing with it while Esmeray said her piece. When Poseidon was brought up, she finally stepped in. Placing on hand on Es's shoulder as a sign of comfort, nodding her head slightly. She knew the young woman didn't mean it, as Amphi herself had taught Triton to be better. But she wasn't wrong, he acted too much like his father in this moment. She stepped forward with the trident, sliding one of the prongs underneath his chin. Forcing him to look up at her, she tilted her head and laughed. Mirth lacing her voice, her anger broken free, and voice dripping with her threat.*** \n\n~\n\n\"I have heard enough of this Triton, you will be returning to Atlantis with me. I do not care what you want anymore, you will do as I say. And if you fight me on this, I will show you just how spiteful and angry I can get. We have allowed you to bully us, but we have grown tired. You will stay in Atlantis until I deem it fit for you to return to living on your own, and to ensure you can't just leave, you will be restricted. Have I made myself clear son? Or do I truly need to prove just... How... Serious I can be?\" \n\n~\n\n***She pushed the tip of the middle prong of his trident to his throat gently. Gliding it, she left a fresh, small cut on his neck. Her blue eyes staring into his as she did so. She was never one for torture, and she wouldn't ever do so. But, she had to prove she wasn't playing around. Not this time, she would apologize later for this act of hers. Her focus too much onto getting him home. She kept the trident to his throat, speaking once more*** \n\n~\n\n\"Now, apologize to your sister. And I mean a sincere apology, not a smart ass one.\"" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "There, at his most callous moment, wielding the legendary trident at his sister and mother alike, Triton felt a surge of confidence pulsate through his body, like he was alive again for the first time in months. In his gloom he had forgotten the thrill of combat, the high stakes and the even higher rewards. Would he truly fight his mother and sister? It was doubtful, but not out of the question. Two against one were terrible odds though, he knew this. Whether or not his final stand was for show would be unknown and not really matter, because Esmeray sprang into action, seizing his brother's wrists and legs by harnessing her control over plant life and sending vines to restrain him. \"Argh! Esmeray! Release me immediately!\" Even in his anger, Triton grimaced as the vines **Pulled**, stretching his arms out wide to the point of pain. He could only watch as she retrieved his fallen trident and delivered it to their mother, even as she made the vines pull even tighter, causing him to cry out. Then, with a squeeze of her fist the fines around his legs took out his ankles, coiling around him to force him to his knees while his arms remained outstretched. \"I'm nothing like him! Don't take your daddy issues out on me, Ray.\"\n\n\"You do not understand, mother. You only see what you want to see. I am no child, and you would be wise to give me a wide-berth and let me live as I see fit.\" The frustration was evident in his voice. He watched with growing unease as she approached. Now she was the one to wield the trident, an unsettling sight. Amphirite was his mother, after all, and even greater than he. His Adam's apple grazed the razor sharp middle prong of the trident as he swallowed when she placed it under his chin, pressing just hard enough to break the skin.\n\n\"Return to Atlantis?! No wa—\" He was cut off by the gliding of the prong along his throat, leaving behind a thin red streak in its path. He couldn't believe this. His muscles tensed with anger, but the vines and Esmeray's magic was too strong to overcome physically. With his mother continuing to dig the razor-like prong into his throat, he smiled tightly and looked up at his sister, letting out a slow breath. Was this the worst morning ever?\"\n\n\"I apologize, Esmeray. I didn't mean to be a jerk, I am not myself lately.\" He looked back up towards his mother, gritting his teeth. \"There. One apology, as requested. I'll behave myself going forward.\"" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "'Argh! Esmeray! Release me immediately!' Esmeray briefly closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she kept him at a tight resistance. The interaction went south quicker than she could have imagined between the three of them. She didn't want to have her brother tied up against his will as he threatened both her and his mother. She didn't want him to have any ill will towards her but she knew there would be. He was a stubborn man who wasn't getting his way and was being controlled by two important women in his life. He was hurt, wounded by Nemesis and now his mother and sister were demanding him to be better. His retaliation was somewhat appropriate but Esmeray knew he was also out of line. \n\n\"I can't,\" She shook her head with both determination and a small feat of guilt. \"I'm sorry, Tri.\" She flenched as he spoke to her, poking at the daddy issues she would always have. It was not his fault she had them, but his kinship to said father spoke in waves as he aimed the words at her. The poking and prodding at each other's wounds turned from sibling rivalry to straight warfare. \"Then quit acting like him.\" \n\nEsmeray watched as Amphi's temper switched due to Triton's hostility. Her calm demeanor now the rage that matched the ocean on a rocky day. She was fierce and confident as she stepped towards Triton, her words matching, demanding an apology. When Amphitrite picked up the trident, Esmeray noted the change in its symbolism, beautiful and strong in Triton's hands now a beacon of fierce and unmoving motherhood. She held Triton as Amphi put the trident to his neck. The small shallow line appeared in warning, a reminder that though she may be his mother, she would not take his crap.\n\nTriton did not meet her eyes as he spoke his apology threw gritted teeth, instead, he stared at his mother the entire time showing defiance in his submission. She knew part of it was a lie before he finished. He would not let them go easily, he would not leave his home easily for Atlantis. Th\n\nEre would only be one way they would get him out and she had a feeling it was going to involve her. Esmeray twisted her hands, making the vines pull his outstretched arms behind his back as if handcuffing him. It took the tight restriction off of his arms but didn't give him full freedom. She wouldn't allow him to have that, at least not yet. \n\n\"We just want the old Triton back. We want you to be happy-go-lucky. I know relationships are hard and that getting your heart broken sucks but we are trying to help you. Why can't you see that is all we wanted?\" Esmeray looked at him with disappointment." }, { "author": "Amphitrite", "message": "***Amphitrite raised a brow, keeping the trident at his neck. Her bright blue eyes darkened with her anger. A satisfied smile creeping up on her lips at the sight of her son, bound by vines with little choice but to listen. If only he learned earlier on that his mother never takes a no for an answer. Let alone his bitchy, whiny behavior he so wishes to have currently. He wanted to give her his crap, she would take it and throw it back at him. Never would she cower for anyone, not even her own child. She kept the prong digging into the skin, watching him closely. Her eyes seeking every detail that meant his apology was completely full of shit. She could tell it mostly was.*** \n\n\"Triton that apology is complete crap, now redo it. Also, now what is this about not returning to Atlantis? Did I ask you? No, so why do you think you have a choice on this matter? You do not. You will be returning home, even if it means Esmeray keeps you bound by these vines and I have to sling you over my damn shoulders. I hardly care for what you want, we are doing things my way. You do as I say, and you also do as Esmeray says. Have I made myself clear? Or do you need me to give you yet another cut?\" \n\n***She threatened, her eyes locked on his. Daring him to even think about going against her wishes. She was not playing his games anymore, it was hers now. And her game was to be played by her rules. She would not take anything less than that. She turned her head to look at Esmeray, thinking for a moment. If he was to return with her... What would happen with his house?*** \n\n\"You said that very beautifully sweet Esmeray, I miss him when he was as happy as could be. Until he returns to his usual, loving, and obeying self he will be returning home. Where is it you are staying now? Oh before I forget also, do know Triton this Trident is now mine. Since you thought it smart to point it at your own mother, I believe it is far safer in my own hands.\"" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "\"I'm not,\" He shot back at Esmeray, beside himself with indignation at this treatment. Perhaps the Sea God was full of wrath, but he couldn't actually do anything about it. Outside, the sea began to churn, with large waves gathering on the horizon to match his unrealized anger. Then, in an instant, the Esmeray made the vines pull his wrists behind his back and tie tightly together. Try as he might to break the binding, it was knotted tightly, nearly unbreakable, made more durable by the magic his sister used to control them. It seems the sibling had made good on her earlier taunt. \"Happy-go-lucky?\" He looked at her incredulously. \"I just got out of a relationship, and now I have my mother and sister here acting like total bit—\"\n\nHis voice was cut off as Amphirite interjected, laying down the law for her wayward son. He grit his teeth, looking up at her helplessly as she pressed the prong of his trident even harder against his throat, making him squirm. To have his own weapon used against him in such a way was a grave insult, but not one the Queen of the Sea seemed to mind. \"I am at home in the sea, mother. You may take my body against my will, but my mind is untouchable. I will follow your rules for as long as I must, but know this will not be forgotten...\" His eyes narrowed when she said she'd be keeping his trident—we'll see about that, he thought grimly, pressing his lips together. \n\nOnce more he looked up at his sister, the look in his eyes frustrated. There was nothing to do now but do as they said, lest he incur more pain. He bowed his head and spoke. \"I apologize, Esmeray. I should have listened to you earlier. Now, I am beaten.\" The storm outside continued to gather strength, though nothing to be alarmed by just yet. With a heavy sigh, Triton sank back onto his heels, looking between them both expectantly. They couldn't keep him like this forever. If they were going to Atlantis, then so be it." }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "Esmeray couldn't help but become somewhat hesitant. The turning tides of the environment outside matched with the conflict within her mind and gut. She took a deep breath and stepped forward towards them, keeping him bound within the tight confines of her vines. She watched as Amphi demanded a better apology from him, his trident never leaving his throat. \n\nTheir encounter was hostile, a mother disciplining her son. A grown man who wanted to act like a toddler, a child. Her eyes moved from Triton to Amphi and back. She hadn't encountered family in a long time, just brief moments when talking to Triton alone, but she couldn't remember it being this dysfunctional. She wanted to laugh at the predicament. The idea of Amphi throwing Triton over her shoulder and hauling him back to Atlantis, her taking Triton's home as if it were her own until he was set free. She had spent so many nights in the confines of a pieced-together sanctum that she now called home that living in a house like this was both a luxury and far out of her comfort zone. All of it seemed like a big joke. \n\nShe squatted down to Triton's level, looking him in the eye. Their eyes were so similar yet so different. His matching more of his mothers hue than the slight green of their fathers. \n\n\"Maybe happy-go-lucky wasn't the best term to use.\" She softly smiled at him, trying to ease some of the tension. Trying to diminish the threat and hostility even though she knew it would stay. It was too far gone. \"But I want to at least see you happy,\" She waved her free hand at the environment. The empty beer bottles and take-out boxes. The environment was beautiful slumped by the weight of depression and sorrow. Heightening the sincerity behind Amphi's words. \"This does not prove you are happy nor that you can take care of yourself. This will be good for you. Your mom is right.\" Her eyes darted towards Amphritite and then back to him before she stood. \n\n\"I will watch the house until you return.\" She said the words a\n\nS if it was final as if he had no more that he could say. Amphi's mind was made up and when she spoke, it would be done." }, { "author": "Amphitrite", "message": "***Amphitrite narrowed her eyes at him, he would do well to know to shut up while he can. As angry as she felt towards him, a motherly concern seeped its way through it. She remained fierce towards him, but she worried about him. How could someone mess with his feeling so much he would act this way? She wouldn't do anything... Or speak to the woman like he asked. She felt an anger towards her, for breaking his heart and ruining his spirit. The urge to protect him from the hurt he felt grew stronger. Like the storm brewing outside, she had her own growing inside of her. She reminded herself to remain strong, she could be nice later. When he's fixed his attitude and gave real respect*** \n\n~\n\n\"Thank you for agreeing with me Esmeray, I think he knows he is spiraling and cannot handle himself. And you son, better watch yourself before calling me or your sister any names. You may not forget this, but you will do well to remember this is for your own damn good. You can think of it as a punishment all you want, but you will thank me later for this.\" \n\n~\n\n***Huffing, she pulled the trident from his throat finally. Amphi gestured towards Esmeray, watching whilst he finally apologizes to her. She nodded her head silently in approval, keeping the trident in her hands. She would lock it away from him, for safe keeping. He wasn't deserving of it until he proved he could be a mature, calm adult. It was times like this when he reminded her too much of Poseidon. Quick to anger and difficult to calm at times. She could sense the storm outside, she would have to calm the seas if he unleashed it. She looked between the two siblings, moving closer to Triton*** \n\n~ \n\n\"That apology was far better than the first one. Now, since we are all in agreement, Esmeray you won't be watching the house. This house, is yours for the time being. Until I feel Triton has earned having his own home, he will not have one. Do as you wish with this home, eventually I'll help you find one of your own. Now, my de\n\nAr son, it's time to go.\" \n\n~\n\n***Using her strength, she hoisted up Triton and threw him onto her back. Almost like a fireman's carry except he's still restrained by the vines. She looked towards Esmeray and nudged her head. Motioning for her to grab his keys and keep them on her. She took one last look around the house, and started making her way outside.*** \n\n~\n\n\"Let's keep him tied up so he can't fight me on this. We can deal with the house later, let's just drop him off in Atlantis first. Then afterwards I was thinking we could have a girls day of some sorts? Go get some food, do a nice spa day after having to deal with this one. Maybe even go shopping a bit, do you need anything new dear? I am more than happy to buy you any necessities or anything you want.\"" } ]

[ { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Beneath the cerulean dome where the sky kissed the sea, a quarrel had shaken the halls of the throne room. Triton, the son of Poseidon, heir to the aquatic throne and guardian of the deep, now stood tall upon a jagged precipice. His muscles, honed by centuries of battling the ocean's wrath, tensed under the weight of his fury. His eyes, the color of storm-churned waves, raged with indignation as he reflected upon his fight with Poseidon. His father, the formidable earth-shaker himself, remained as immovable as the bedrock beneath the sea. \n\nTriton bore the temperament of the ocean he governed: usually calm and serene. Yet, like the ocean, when his temper flared, it was a tempest unleashed. Literally. The altercation with Poseidon had escalated, their voices thundering like clashing waves, until Triton, with the fire of his convictions burning bright, had stormed away. The sea, sensing the mood of its master, retreated into an ominous calm, the prelude to the tempest about to be unleashed. Standing now at the edge of his domain, his chest heaved as though he bore the weight of the ocean itself. His tangled mane of hair, the color of dark seaweed, was pulled back, exposing a face that bore a rugged handsomeness, etched with the wisdom of the ages. A single, heavy silver chain adorned his neck, a gift from the Nereids, glimmering like captured moonlight. He was bare, a testament to his unbridled nature, his skin kissed by the salt and the sun.\n\nIn his hands, he clutched his most potent instrument—the conch shell, fabled and feared, its spirals echoing the depths from which it came. It was more than a symbol; it was a vessel of his wrath. In a fit of anger, he brought the shell to his lips, his breath a gale force of divine fury. The sound that emerged was primal and unearthly, a sonic embodiment of the raw power of the oceans. It resonated across the Aegean, a clarion call that struck fear into the hearts of all creatures, mortal and divine.\n\nThe effect was immediate. The sea responded to its master's call, its surface convulsing into towering waves that marched forward like an army of watery titans. The sky darkened as if mourning the peace that had been, and the winds howled in a frenzied chorus. Fishes darted into the abyss, and seagulls scattered into the wind, their cries lost amidst the cacophony.\n\nTriton's heart thundered in his chest, each beat in time with the crashing of the waves. The fight with Poseidon had kindled a fire in his soul, a passion for doing what he thought was right, regardless of ambition or tradition. This storm, this chaos—it was a message, a declaration that he would not stand idly by.\n\nIn the midst of this tempest, a mortal champion of Persephone, queen of the underworld, was caught on the water unawares. His vessel, a mere plaything in the face of such divine wrath, was overwhelmed. As the ship succumbed to the rage of the sea, Triton watched with cold detachment as the man was pulled beneath the ways, drowning. \n\nAs the storm raged, Triton's fury began to subside. The sea gradually calmed, the waves diminishing into gentle swells. Triton remained a sentinel upon his rocky outpost, the echoes of the conch shell reverberating within him. He had challenged the will of Poseidon, and though it brought destruction, it also brought a renewed understanding of his own power—and its consequences. \n\nWith the sun slowly sinking at his back, he took one last hard stare over the horizon before finally descending that jagged ledge. It had felt good to make his fury known, but he knew his problems still awaited him no matter how much he raged. \n\n||" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n\nShe had felt it almost instantly. The life that she had connected herself to falling and fading, a heartbeat no longer and a soul for the Underworld to process anew. Her champion. Her chosen. Cast within the depths by a God who dared to challenge the wrath of she who shall not be named, the cursebringer, and Queen of the Underworld. Her rage and fury could be felt almost instantly. Darkness surging at her fingertips as she appeared to Triton with a blinding light that betrayed what lay beneath. \n\nIn that moment of seething wrath, her presence eclipsed the tranquility of the sea. Triton, the mighty god of the ocean, stood before her and Persephone looked upon him with a gaze of contempt. He had dared to interfere, to pluck from her grasp the one demigod she had chosen to champion her cause. A demigod that had been promised her own protection. A promise she did not break lightly. \n_ _\n\n\"Son of Poseidon.\" Her head cocked in curiosity as she approached him with a natural grace. A gown of changing flames moving behind her. Flames that contrasted against the sea and hissed as droplets brushed against. \"Do you know whose life you just claimed?\" Her voice was not her own. No longer did the light melodic tone of the Goddess of Spring speak forth, but the eerie thunder of Hades' queen, ice and malice in her voice and on her tongue. \n\n\"A fate that was my own, a champion that was mine to decide, and you challenge my will. Why?\" This was the darkness that made those who found themselves within her wrath tremble in fear. The rarity of a side held hidden beneath her light. The goddess of darkness, a woman that held death within her hand and warmed his heart, but not without carving her own to him. Not without him coaxing her own darkness from her, presenting the power she was capable of so that no God may see themselves above her again. \n_ _\n\nWith a simple wave of her hand, the waters around them seemed to churn and darken, shadows swirling and coalescing into twisted forms that writhed and dove within the depths. Her whispers made them dance along the sea he commanded, a power forming around them that seemed to choke the very life from the misted air. With each ripple of dark energy she commanded, Persephone felt the raw power coursing through her veins, a reminder of her dominion over the shadows that lurked beneath the surface. She had spent millennia in the shadow of her husband, Hades, ruler of the Underworld, but now she stood as a force to be reckoned with in her own right. So many underestimated her still, forever the weakling of the Gods that remained sheltered within Demeter's fields. \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton shielded his eyes and stumbled back at the burst of light that announced Persephone's arrival. In the presence of such palpable wrath emanating from her, he stepped back, a discernible shift in his demeanor. Despite his earlier display of anger, power and, defiance, there was now a flicker of recognition in his eyes that acknowledged the gravity of his actions. In his blind fury he had gone too far. Triton, who had always commanded the seas with unchallenged might, found himself at an impasse, confronting a power that rivaled, if not surpassed, his own. The wind whipped against his face and the ocean roared as the two Gods faced off.\n\nTriton's voice, when he finally spoke, carried the weight of the ocean's depths, \"It was not my intention to challenge your will, Persephone,\" He countered, yet with an undertone of respect, a recognition of the power Persephone wielded. \"The sea, like the realms of the dead, has its laws and champions. In my fervor and rage against my father, I have trespassed against you.\" The acknowledgement from Triton did little to quell the storm brewing within Persephone; the very air seemed to crackle around her, and even the water itself seemed to obey her dark will. Triton's stance, though unyielding as the rocky precipice he stood upon, suggested a willingness to navigate the treacherous waters of divine politics and personal vendettas. As Persephone's power swirled around them, manifesting shadows that danced upon the sea's surface, Triton's gaze remained locked with hers. The sea around them, usually his to command, now seemed to heed the call of another.\n\n\"I did not know it was your champion who sailed across my seas, nor did I intend to kill him. I see now the depth of my error,\" Triton conceded. \"I cannot undo what has been done, but I offer to make amends for this grievance. Tell me how I may right this wrong, how I can restore the balance I have so carelessly disrupted. I am in your debt.\" Amid the delicate balance of apology and the offering to make amends, Triton's voice took on a firmer edge, reflecting the sovereignty and power he wielded over the seas. \"But I say this: be reasonable in your demands. Should you refuse, and seek retribution beyond what is just, it will force my hand. For just as my anger blinded me to its consequences, so too will yours.\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n\nThere was a moment within his pleas that Persephone softened. A mind that gave benefit of the doubt speaking to her, screaming at her subconscious thoughts to calm themselves, and for the rage to quell against the ravenous waves of the sea. Yet any sense of that pity washed away in an instant, the instant his lips warned her of reason. A smirk playing across her lips as her feet touched the boat and weeds took form in every inch of the woodwork. \"Be reasonable?\" Her voice was cold, a burst of ice over the skin, a tongue sharp like a wielded sword as it lashed towards him. \"Be reasonable?\" Heightened were her words, an anger to its edge as she approached him with black shading at the hazel of her normally emerald gaze.\n\n\"You must be joking. To request of me reason, when my champion lays dead upon your ocean floor because of *You*. To cause me pain because of your selfish antics, for what? A boy rebelling against his father? Where was your reason, son of Poseidon? Where was your logic? Your control? A god of great power and responsibility, yet you acted a fool.\" Head cocked sideways, she studied the face made chiseled of Amphitrite and Poseidon's finest features. A man of blessed looks, and a stance that spoke to a confidence beyond his rising.\n\n\"Do you know what it was that drew me to the Underworld?\" The gown simmered and her feet traced a circle around him in graceful steps. She was a lioness playing with her prey, her gaze running over his body as if to study every inch of the man whose fate she held within her fingertips. \"There is a balance there. The Gods of Olympus find themselves above all, above life, death, mortals, demigods, all that is within the earth and its soil, but not Hades, not those within the Underworld. For every life dragged down into judgment, another is born. For every eye taken, every gluttonous decision, there is just punishment. A delicate balance that keeps life and death in awe-inspiring companionship.\" \n\nShe stood before him now, her fingers curling around his jaw in gentle force, as she pulled his gaze to her own. \"What is yours, Triton? What is the just punishment in which you deserve?\" Dropping her fingers to her side, her touch was replaced with vines spreading across his body. A trap of his own making within Persephone's wrath. \"What do you wish of me? If not to leave you beneath the ocean floor yourself? To send you back to Poseidon with breath taken from your lungs- or better yet, to let you live your days swaying with the fish you command. The mercy of you remaining beautiful and tall, as a mangrove for your mother to visit upon.\" \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton stood before her proud, cerulean eyes unwavering in their gazing upon her. Hades in his wisdom chose a fine partner in life, that was plain to see. Triton had not been so lucky; the boy prince of the sea often a victim of his own folly, in love and in life. Angry waves crashed against the stony crag of their meeting place, casting a salty spray into the air as seabirds flew overhead to some unknown destination. He had the awareness that some formative moment in his life was about to take place, but he did not yet know what. Instinctively he reached for his trident. Forged in the heart of a dying star and cooled in the deepest abyss of the Mariana Trench, its handle was crafted from the purest silver, mined from the sacred lunar craters by forgotten celestial beings. The metal, imbued with the luminescent glow of moonlight, shimmered with an ethereal light, its surface adorned with intricate engravings that depicted the ebb and flow of tides. The trident's three prongs were sharper than the fangs of the mightiest sea monster, each one gleaming with an inner light that mirrors the stars themselves. At the junction where the prongs meet the shaft, a sapphire of the deepest blue is set. This was the weapon now pointed at his foe.\n\n\"Enough!\" He said sharply. \"What is one mortal's blood in the scope of history? The irony of this coming from the Queen of the Underworld—do you not oversee the souls of the dead? Can you not grant this man some comfort in his eternal dwelling? How many lives have you or your husband claimed, I wonder? I am a **God**, and the sea is my domain. *You* Should have protected your champion better. It is known the sea can turn deadly in the blink of an eye.\" He followed her as she circled, his muscles tense and his reflexes on alert. \"Ah, is that it, Persephone? How self-righteous. How above it all. If only the rest of us unenlightened gods could strive for the balance you've attained. Have you ever considered holding a workshop? 'How to be an insufferable snob in ten easy steps.'\" \n\nTriton slowly lowered his weapon as she stood before him, holding his chin delicately in her grasp. For a moment it felt tender, almost motherly. His defensiveness and vitriol momentarily receded. \"Persephone...\" He said, pausing to look deeply into her eyes. \"Take a step back. Do not make an enemy of me. It won't bring your champion back.\" He gasped then as the vines coiled around, forcing him to drop his trident with a clang. His jaw tightened and his resolve hardened. He did not resist, but instead stared straight at her in open defiance. \"Do as you will, Queen of the Underworld. I do not fear you.\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "The depth of her wrath surged like a tempest within her, a storm brewing in the very depths of her soul. The irony that he only proved her point upon his statement was not lost on her. *What was one mere mortal?* A flash of fire and brimstone in her glare as she thought of what that mortal meant to her. She, unlike others, did not simply cast her champions aside. They were a part of her, tethered to her in ways that made her feel what eternity threatened to take away as an immortal being. She could feel his pain within his lungs as he was sent to the bottom. His pleas and begging an echo within her head, banging against the cage she kept her rage inside. He was hers to protect, and Persephone did not take this lightly. \n\nShe ignored his mocking, ignored the consequences of toying with Poseidon's son. She would face all of it on the morrow, for now vengeance was the only thing that spoke clearly. The only thing she could hear through the ringing in her ears. \n\n*\"I do not fear you.\"*\n_ _\n\nA smile spread across her lips, sweet and tempered as she brought her face so close to his own that she nearly sealed his curse with a kiss. Instead her silken words of honey purred from them as hazel eyes met his own. She was a cat playing with the mouse, her vines tightening in response as they moved further across the God's body. \"You will.\" \n\nIn this moment it was decided, a humbling for the man that kneeled before her in forced submission was due. \"You will find yourself in lonesome agony as all those whom once found love for you will no longer find your company tolerable. Silence, soon an unwelcome companion in your life, my darling Triton.\" Her hand dropped from his chin as she backed away from her victim. \"When you are humbled, you will beg at my feet. Beg for the forgiveness in which you do not deserve, for the life you took and mocked as if he was but a speck of sand on your ocean floor. He was *My* Fate to decide, not yours.\" The words were hissed with the venom she kept leashed. Vines coiling further, until his very life essence threatened to stop pumping through his veins. \n\n\"Mine!\" There it was, the Queen of the Underworld's flames as her dress flickered and expanded until heat caressed both their cheeks with a tinted rouge. And so the incantation continued, as Triton knelt before her, defiance flickering in his eyes, she reveled in the power she held over him. Each word dripped with a potent mix of anger and sorrow, a symphony of vengeance conducted by her fingertips as they looked dipped in crimson. With every syllable uttered, his fate wove tighter around him, ensnaring him in a web of his own making. Persephone's wrath a rarity, but an unyielding one in the way it followed and coiled around the very throat of her victims of vengeance like a collar. \n\nHe would yield to her, or spend eternity in misery. It mattered not, as long as he felt what it was to cross the Queen of the damned and dead.\n_ _" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "On that craggy outcrop overlooking the vast expanse of the Aegean Sea, the wind howled Triton's baleful dirge for her fallen champion. The tempest he;d caused had receded, leaving the once furious waves eerily calm, yet dark, brooding clouds lingered above, mirroring the mood below. Here, Triton, the mighty god of the sea, found himself ensnared by creeping vines that wrapped tightly around his muscular limbs, binding him to the jagged rocks. No amount of struggle could free him from their magic-infused embrace. Triton was renowned for the command he held over all aquatic elements. His usual bearing of unchallenged authority was now being challenged, his trident laying discarded a few paces away, gleaming dimly under the shadowed sky. No one had ever brought him to his knees as Persephone had. But despite his predicament, a fire blazed in his sea-blue eyes. Her haughty arrogance rubbed him the wrong way. Yes, he was on his knees, not by choice but by force, and that was an important difference. Persephone's very presence commanded attention his attention and exuded an air of inescapable power. Her hair flowed like a river of night, and her eyes, cold and unyielding, bore into Triton's with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. She was every bit the Queen of the underworld.\n\nAs the vines held Triton captive, Persephone spoke, her voice resonating with a chilling finality that even the clouds seemed to pause and listen. With each word she uttered, the air grew colder, and the vines tightened their grip, as if feeding off her energy. She was casting a curse, one that would alter the course of Triton's existence forever. **\"You will find yourself in lonesome agony as all those whom once found love for you will no longer find your company tolerable. Silence, soon an unwelcome companion in your life, my darling Triton.\" Her hand dropped from his chin as she backed away from her victim. \"When you are humbled, you will beg at my feet. Beg for the forgiveness in which you do not deserve, for the life you took and mocked as if he was but a speck of sand on your ocean floor. He was my fate to decide, not yours.\"** Triton groaned as the vines tightened further, becoming painful. She wanted his submission, and she wanted him humbled. He felt a strange darkness wash over and into him, her words seeping into his very soul, binding his fate to her will.\n\n\"I will never submit to you, Persephone. The sea does not bow to the dead.\" His statement rang across the cliffs, a declaration of resistance against the inevitable. Yet, beneath this facade of rebellion, a kernel of fear took root within his heart. Persephone was more powerful than him, and resisting could only lead to his own downfall... But the god of the sea's heart had hardened, his pride unyielding. How long he would wear this collar at the end of her leash was unknown—for all eternity or until he broke, whichever came first. For now the only thing certain was the body of her champion lay at the bottom of the ocean, fish food." }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "❝ ⌜Who said you can't wear a flower crown and still be a fearsome thing.⎯ ✶⌝ ❞\n \nTitle. [Pandora](\nSetting. Amongst the Oceans \nCharacters. ⁠Persephone , Triton\nPings/Mentions. Triton\nNotes: End of scene\n \n⋆.˚ ☪︎ ִ ࣪ .𖥔˚.\n \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n_ _\n\nPersephone's eyes glinted with a smug sense of satisfaction as she beheld the sight before her. Triton, the mighty son of Poseidon, knelt before her, his muscles straining with the effort of resisting her power. The strain etched across his face only fueled her sense of triumph. It was enough for her.\n\nAs the final syllables of her command left her lips, the vines that had ensnared Triton began to recede, releasing him from their grasp. Yet, even as the physical bindings loosened, a subtle mark remained behind his ear—a delicate rendering of the leaves that had held him captive. To most, it would go unnoticed, but not to Persephone. Not when her magic pulsed within it like a hidden beacon.\n\n\"I will never submit to you, Persephone,\" Triton declared defiantly, his voice laced with the pride of the sea. \"The sea does not bow to the dead.\"\n_ _\n\nA scoff escaped Persephone's lips as she regarded him with thinly veiled contempt. \"We will see, love,\" She retorted, her tone dripping with disdain. There was no use in arguing further with the stubbornness of a man who had yet to learn his place. His humbling had only just begun, and there were many lessons yet for him to endure.\n\nHis life was hers to manipulate, to unravel and piece back together at her whim. As an immortal, he had the luxury of time—a luxury she intended to exploit fully. He would learn, one way or another. He would beg. Persephone was nothing if not a patient queen, well-versed in the art of wielding power over those who dared to challenge her authority.\n\n\"Until next time, Prince of the Sea,\" She said with a coy smile, her voice laced with teasing laughter. With a graceful gesture, she summoned the billowing darkness that surrounded her, beckoning her back to her realm. Back to the Underworld. Back to Hades.\n_ _\n\nIt was a place not even the gods dared to touch with force, for Hades did not need to consume you whole when he had the damned souls of the rivers to do his bidding. Persephone disappeared into the swirling shadows, leaving Triton to contemplate the weight of his defiance in the echoing silence of the mortal world.\n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂" } ]

[ { "author": "zeaalous", "message": "Melinoë catches Triton at one of his low points." }, { "author": "Melinoe", "message": "*When the day turns to night, and the sun no longer kisses the face of the world, that is when the shadows lurk.*\n\n*The land of Poseidonia, often filled with life, remained a somber state in the darkness of nighttime. Trees branches swayed in unison with the gentle ocean breeze. The moon in all her glory reflected light onto the surface below, ensuring a decent visibility to those who ventured. Not that many dared to do so, of course. Not when a funeral had been held for one of the beloved residents earlier that day, signaling the arrival of a rather unwelcome guest. A guest who was rumored to curse any man who witnessed her with vivid, disturbing nightmares. Why would any mortal dare leave the safe refuge of their homes and risk almost certain wrath?*\n\n*A bouquet of flowers rested atop a freshly covered grave and a newly created tombstone. Roses of red mixed with small white baby's breath flowers, carefully crafted with thorns cut and stems all one neat length. The bouquet glistened with dew in the moonlight up until a wisp of a shadow drifted overhead. A faint snort of amusement entered the air as a fully black hand reached out to grab the resting bouquet.* **\"This looks as if it belongs in the hands of a woman on a romantic date, definitely not a tombstone,\"** *The Goddess of Ghosts critiqued with a careful gaze.* **\"I'll accept it regardless. Propitiations are propitiations. I can't be too picky with mortals.\"**\n\n*Flowers in hand, Melinoë raised her figure upward to stand. Slowly her hand extended out as the wisps of souls pounced, surrounding the bouquet in a swirl of darkness before the bouquet itself dissipated into air. With a fond look plastered upon her pale features, her attention now turned to the glittering soul yet to be claimed.* **\"You are found. Go home to the rest of your loved ones.\"** *A darkened hand now emptied of the bouquet reached out once more, grabbing hold of the familiar shimmer of life before it too dissipated into air. Another night,\n\nAnother job well done. That was until along the drift of the wind came the sound of songs, tumbling and turning over with the notes.*\n\n*Melinoë, ever the lover of music, immediately snapped her head in the direction it came from with interest. She deserved a good song or two after her hard work, she felt it was justified! Thus with long, flowing steps she went with haste towards the carried tune. The train of shadowed wisps followed close behind her, almost matching her pace as she darted across the land. Past palmed trees and over sandy grass, the music carried until the goddess found herself under the cover of a darker shaded area. Keeping herself well hidden amongst the shade, with a little help from the dark wisps of souls that further blocked the light around her, she spied a weather-worn tavern just across the way. It was a quaint establishment built from a pirate ship that had been brought onto land. It was littered with drunkards just along the sea. She began to listen to the sea shanties that drifted from the large wooden doors.*" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Inside the tavern, Triton sat with an air of regal nonchalance, a tankard of beer in one hand and a fan of playing cards in the other. The table before him was scattered with chips and coins, displaying his victorious streak for all to see. His companions—a pair of women and a man, all humans slightly rough around the edges from their sea-faring lives—were not taking their losses well. Their expressions were a mix of suspicion and irritation as they eyed the stack of winnings that Triton had accumulated. Triton, of course, was thoroughly enjoying himself. The salt air mingled with the smell of beer and the earthy tang of seaweed. He flicked his cards with a smirk, catching glimpses of his opponents' worried glances. \"Come now, don't look so glum. It's all in good fun, isn't it?\" He teased.\n\nThe woman directly across from him, a feisty soul with fiery hair, narrowed her eyes. \"Or maybe you've just been lucky, Triton. Or cheating,\" She accused, her tone half-joking, half-serious.\n\n\"Me? Cheat? Perish the thought! You're just a sore loser, my dear,\" Triton laughed, the sound rolling like waves against the shore. But as he raised his tankard for another sip, his gaze wandered to the door. There, almost melding with the shadows, stood a figure that stole his attention away from the game momentarily.\n\nMelinoë. Her presence was a sharp contrast to the rowdy warmth of the tavern. Clad in a presence that seemed to absorb the very light itself, she stood silently, her eyes—a hauntingly familiar color like the pre-dawn sea—surveying the room. Something about her struck a chord in Triton's memory, tugging at the edges of his mind. He couldn't quite place it though, and it gnawed at him. With a slightly slower hand, Triton placed his drink down, his usual cockiness faltering as he tried to place her. He had seen those eyes before, he was certain. He bit his lip thoughtfully, his eyes dancing with mischief as he looked back to his opponents as they nervously fiddled with their cards.\n\n\"Another round, then?\" Triton proposed, shuffling the deck with expert fingers. The others nodded, albeit reluctantly. The man beside him, a rugged sailor with a scar tracing his jaw, leaned in and muttered to one of his companions, \"Just watch him, he's slippery like an eel.\"\n\nAs they delved into another game, Triton's attention returned to the woman, her appearance almost blending into the shadows. Triton was intrigued. There was something unmistakably otherworldly about her, a presence that spoke of realms beyond the sandy shores and salty tavern air. \"Who might that be, I wonder? She has such a *Presence*...\" Triton mused aloud, not expecting an answer. His companions glanced briefly at the figure, then shrugged off their unease, focusing instead on their dwindling stacks of chips. Triton dealt another round, his gaze darting between the game and the mysterious visitor. The sea breeze wafted through the open structure of the tavern, a familiar scent to the regulars.\n\nAs the game progressed, Triton's mind wandered through possibilities of her identity. She was clearly no ordinary mortal; he'd interacted with enough gods to be able to spot one of his own, but there was also something else... The eyes. He knew he had seen those eyes somewhere before. Distracted by his curiosity, Triton nearly missed the sailor's triumphant slam of cards on the table. \"Ha! Beat that, if you can!\" The sailor boasted, a wide grin breaking across his face.\n\nTriton chuckled, his attention snapping back to the table as he laid down his hand, claiming another victory. \"Full house!\" His companions groaned, their frustration threatening to boil over. \"Seems the tides are in my favor tonight,\" He quipped, gathering his winnings with a satisfied grin." }, { "author": "Melinoe", "message": "*Two could play the tango that was recognition. Except on Melinoë's part, as the God of the Sea met her own stormy gaze there was a distinct feeling of anger. The usually calm goddess kept her tranquil demeanor whilst the storm raged within— a storm in which she truly was confused on how it even started. There was something there, something truly bizarre and otherworldly about him, she just couldn't place her finger on what. Was he a God that controlled some form of anger, attempting to keep her at a distance? Or was it some form of curse, an aura that attached onto him forcing her mind into mental gymnastics to keep her temper at bay. She needed to be certain. She needed to figure out exactly what she was dealing with.*\n\n*Thus, a trial and error was in order. The Goddess of Ghosts was certainly one to test the waters before diving in. She needed to observe without being observed back in a controlled environment. As he won his next match and became distracted, Melinoë took the opportunity to make her move. The cloaked woman backed into the full darkness, seemingly disappearing into the air as she began using the spirits to hide her. She moved out of complete sight, finding a new hiding spot atop the roof of the tavern. Shielded by lost souls, it appeared as a completely black void that those inside could not currently see. From this vantage point, she'd eavesdrop to get a better understanding of the happenings inside.*\n\n.\n*Her second part of her experiment now went into play. The souls remaining where she had previously stood in view transformed themselves into a wispy raven, sitting along the sandy ground. It was a very real looking bird, but had an off feeling to it. The edges of it's form seemed to shift to smoke like it wasn't really solid. A bad omen, perhaps. It pecked at the ground up until Triton specifically would look at it. Then it would stare directly at him, never being the first to break eye contact. Melinoë wanted to see how the man would react to it, to see if he'd believe it was her.*\n\n*Now with the stage all set for her to observe, Melinoë could use this time in the meanwhile to consider just what was happening with her mind. The uncontrollable anger did not seem to be her own, it didn't make logical sense now that he was finally out of her view. She didn't know the man, she didn't know his past or present, what had happened to warrant such a reaction from her brain? So often was she the one playing tricks and toying with the strings that connected people's thoughts that she hated being the one on the other side of the coin. And yet, whatever twisted her emotions had a tinge of... Homeliness. Small traces of a familiar embrace that she just could not fully comprehend at the moment.*\n\n.\n*There were so many questions she currently held, and yet she had no answers for them. Just several attempts at a hypothesis that needed to be tested. She was determined to get those answers, one eavesdrop at a time. She strained her ears to focus upon voices over the delightful tunes that came from the band.*" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the table. The flickering light of the tavern's lanterns cast a warm glow over the scattered chips and coins, highlighting his winning streak. In one ring covered hand, he held a pint of beer, while the other drummed the tabletop lazily. \"Another round?\" Triton proposed, shuffling the deck deftly. The others nodded, grumbling. When he won yet another hand, tempers began to flare. The woman's eyes flashed with anger. \"Luck like that doesn't come without a cost!,\" She snarled. The man with the scar growled his agreement, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the edge of the table. Triton remained calm, a placid smile playing on his lips. He glanced toward the door again, but Melinoë was gone, vanished like a whisper in the wind. His curiosity about her whereabouts nagged at him, but he knew he had more pressing matters at hand.\n\n\"Now, now,\" Triton said smoothly, \"No need to get riled up. It's just a game,\" He smirked, gathering his chips and stacking them with deliberate care. His opponents' hostility was palpable, their suspicion growing with every chip he moved. The fiery-haired woman leaned forward, her voice dropping to a menacing whisper. \"You're not leaving until we get what's rightfully ours.\" Triton looked up and met her gaze, his eyes dancing with amusement. \"I don't want any trouble,\" He said casually, \"But I'd be more than happy to kick all three of your asses, if that's how you want to play this..\" He stood, sweeping the last of his winnings into a small leather pouch. The scarred sailor rose as well, blocking Triton's path with a menacing stance. \"You think you can just walk out of here after cheating us?\"\n\nTriton remained unfazed, his demeanor as calm as the sea before a storm. \"Those are some mighty serious allegations without any proof, big guy,\" He said. \"But I've been called a lot worse than a cheater by people a lot more impressive than you.\" He pushed past the sailor, but the man grabbed his arm, his grip like iron. Triton grinned and turned slowly, his eyes meeting the sailor's with a warning glint. \"First I took your money, now I'm about to take your dignity.\" The sailor hesitated. Unnerved by Triton's confidence. For a moment it seemed as though the situation was about to resolve itself peacefully, but then the woman of the group bashed her wooden chair of Triton's head from behind. The chair split into a half dozen pieces as Triton stumbled, kept up only by the grip of the scarred sailor. The third sailor of the group leapt up and ran at Triton, but he side-stepped and grabbed the man's head, bonking it against the scarred sailor's head like a coconut. They both let out a terrible cry as they crashed to the floor. Triton spun around now to face the woman, his shirt ripped in the scuffle. \"You're next, Red,\" He said with a smirk, putting his fists up.\n\nIt was then that two Ace of Spades cards fall from beneath his shirt, fluttering harmlessly to the ground. For a second, time stood still as they both stared at the cards, then glanced up at each other, and then back down to the cards. \"Oh, you *Mother fucker!*\" He yelled, slamming her fist onto the table. Triton tsked, rubbing the back of his head where she had hit him with the chair. \"Look, why don't you just consider this a lesson in trusting your intuition and not gambling with strangers?\" Instead of verbally expressing her outrage, she charged. Thinking quickly, he tipped a nearby table over directly in her path, causing her to trip. He laughed and made a run for it, bursting out the front door and out onto the beach, gloriously bare-chested, with their money bouncing around in the leather pouch at his hip." }, { "author": "Melinoe", "message": "*The observation took place in tranquil silence— at least on her end. Inside she listened to the storm that seemed to brew from the man's gambling. He was a bit too cocky with himself, it seemed. Biting off far more than he could chew should he anger the whole building. Though on the other hand, Melinoë pondered, maybe that's what he was hoping for. Some sort of conflict, some sort of tension, the satisfaction of relentless victory to the point that it potentially endangered his life as well as everyone else's inside. Was he simply a walking mess of danger and destruction or a calculating, cold foe?*\n\n*He only seemed to grow more cocky as the fighting went on, definitely pointing Mel towards the first option of the two. A disaster in the form of a living being just angering the mortals in his vicinity. Surely it was a possibility that he could have cheated at the game like these mortals suspected, or there was the potential for the unexplained. Perhaps he had been gifted luck. This thought lingered while she eavesdropped further. Now things truly had begun to get heated, like a volcano waiting to erupt until finally the spew of lava came in the form of verbal altercation. The scuffle she heard seemed evident that the verbal had mixed with physical. Her features contorted into a wince as the rough noise of a chair breaking hit her ears. She remained silent as the fighting continued relentlessly below her, a simple observer until the need to step in was absolutely necessary.*\n.\n\n*Except that need never came, as the dark splotch above the tavern watched the arrogant victor make a mad dash out of the establishment. A small snicker left her lips as her distraction raven dissipated. Now, it was game on. With the mortals out of the picture she could be much more... Direct. Thus, Melinoë carefully scaled the roof to get back onto the shoreline and began a full sprint after him. Rushing across the sands she went, the spirits swirling around her to form a cloak and shield her from view. Instead of appearing as a woman, she appeared as an eerie dark smudge. The woman then purposefully made a very loud footstep behind him so that he would turn around.*\n\n\"You're quite the gambler, aren't you?\" *A voice sounded from the dark smudge as the smudge began to dissipate into smoky, dark wisps of souls. The blue eyes emerged first, a mirror of Persephone's except more haunting and empty. Her mother was the woman of life, after all, and Melinoë was death. Pale skin and light red lips, now a woman stood from the smudge with constant black souls circling around her protectively. A black cloak clung to her figure, mixing with her dark brown hair that was littered with streaks of white. Her hands were engulfed with the same pattern of the wisps, simply tattooed a pure black.* \n\n\"I have a few questions I'd like you to answer.\" *The Goddess of Ghosts mused, her voice taking almost an echoed effect.* \"At least, before I potentially get too annoyed with you. You seem to have quite the infuriating aura upon exposure. I'm not particularly fond of the rage you induce.\" *One of her hands lifted to point toward him, a wisp traveling up to swirl around his head. After the second swirl it morphed into a chain, a nightmarish illusion that quickly faded.* \"Tell me, what is your name? What are you the God of? Let's spare each other the trouble and not play pretend. I don't like running around in circles if I can avoid it.\"" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton watched the strange shadow approach, quietly bracing himself for some kind of conflict. His eyes widened as he turned to face the figure emerging from the shadows — it was the woman from before, beautiful and intriguing, but what really caught his attention were her eyes. They were unmistakably the same as someone he knew well—blue, haunting, and almost empty, yet a perfect mirror to Persephone's. \"Are you the daughter of the Queen of the Underworld?\" He asked, his voice carrying a mixture of fear and defiance. The woman's ethereal presence, her command of the spirits around her, all pointed to the underworld. \"As for who I am...\" He began, eyeing her like a predator eyeing its prey, \"I am **Triton**, eldest son of Poseidon, God of the Sea, cursed by your wretched mother.\"\n\nBefore she could respond, an angry mob burst out of the tavern, their voices rising in a chorus of fury. Over two dozen sailors, their faces twisted in rage, stormed toward Triton. These were men and women he had bested at cards not just tonight but over the past few months. \"There he is! The cheating bastard!\" One of them yelled, pointing an accusatory finger. Triton's expression shifted from intrigue to amusement. \"Ah, my adoring fans,\" He quipped. \"I was wondering when you'd all catch up.\" He watched as they approached, their anger palpable. \"Come now, gentlefolk, no need to be sore losers. You know the sea favors the bold.\"\n\nOne of the sailors, a burly man with a beard matted with salt and sweat, pushed his way to the front. \"You've cheated us for the last time, Triton!\" He growled, brandishing a knife. Triton chuckled, unfazed by the threat. \"Cheated? How you *Wound* Me. It's just a little showmanship, my good sir. Something you clearly lack.\" His words dripped with mockery, further inciting the mob's anger. Another sailor, her face flushed with drink and fury, shouted, \"You think you're better than us? We'll see about that!\" The crowd surged forward, ready to pounce. With a smug grin, Triton winked at Melinoë and then pulled out his conch shell. \"Oh, I am indeed better.\" He lifted the shell to his lips and let out a mighty blow. The sound resonated through the night air, a deep, powerful note that seemed to vibrate the very earth beneath their feet.\n\nFor a moment, there was silence, broken only by the distant roar of the ocean. Then, a low rumble began, growing louder with each passing second. The sailors glanced around nervously, their bravado waning in the face of the impending threat. The ground beneath them trembled as the sea responded to Triton's call. A massive tidal wave rose from the depths, its crest towering above the shoreline. The wall of towering water glistened in the moonlight, a terrifying force of nature summoned by the god of the sea. Triton's eyes sparkled with a mix of power and satisfaction as he watched the wave approach.\n\n\"Run!\" One of the sailors screamed, but it was too late. A dark shadow enveloped them all before the wave crashed down with a thunderous roar, sweeping over the beach and engulfing the mob, including Melinoë herself if she didn't have any tricks up her sleeve. Triton spread his arms out wide, embracing the moment as the the water engulfed him. The force of the wave sent sailors tumbling and flailing, sweeping them away, their screams lost in the crashing water.\n\nThe force of the tidal wave ripped through the tavern, leaving behind shattered wood and debris. It now lay in ruin. Triton surveyed the destruction, a satisfied smirk on his lips. \"Looks like the house doesn't always win,\" He quipped after surfacing from the roiling water. The ability to breath underwater and his enhanced swimming make him virtually invulnerable to the pains everyone else was suffering. If they wanted him to be the bad guy, fine, he'll be the bad guy. Some of the sailors, struggling against the powerful current, were pulled out to sea, their cries for help growing fainter as they drifted farther out. Some clung to debris, their eyes wide with terror as they were dragged further from shore. Soon the water receded, and he looked around, thinking it felt nice to finally get some of his frustration out." }, { "author": "Melinoe", "message": ".\n`As she finally trudged up to the safer zone, she turned to face the ocean with her hands on her hips. A water drop rolled down the length of her pale face as she blew strands of damp hair away from her mouth. Her blue eyes landed on the satisfied smirk across the sea God's face. Melinoë was far less satisfied and amused.` \"Do you bring down waves upon everyone you've just met, or am I just special?\"" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton stood at the edge of the water, his gaze fixed on the carnage he had wrought. The moonlight glinted off his damp skin, highlighting the smug satisfaction etched across his features. The once bustling tavern now lay in ruins, the result of his power and capricious nature. Debris littered the shore, and the cries of the struggling sailors filled the air, though they barely registered in his mind. His eyes sought Melinoë amidst the wreckage, his expression a mix of triumph and disdain.\n\nAs the dark, wispy shark formed by Melinoë's spirits cut through the receding tidal wave, Triton watched with mild amusement. He knew she would not be easily swept away; after all, she was the daughter of Persephone. When she finally emerged, soaked and angry, Triton chuckled. Her hair clung to her face, and her eyes burned with an intensity that only fueled his amusement.\n\nTriton shrugged nonchalantly, saying \"Oh, you're special, all right,\" He replied, his tone sarcastic. \"But I did it on purpose. I wanted to see if the daughter of the Underworld Queen could handle a little bath.\" He had dealt with gods and goddesses far more formidable than this specter of the dead. \"I am Triton, son of Poseidon. I am the fury of the sea, and I make no apologies for the chaos I cause. Reconsider the next time you start demanding answers from someone you don't even know.\"\n\nHe turned away from her then, his gaze sweeping over the devastation once more. Then, with a final glance at Melinoë, Triton began to wade out into the surf. The cold water lapped at his legs, a familiar and comforting sensation. This was his domain, where he was strongest, where he was free. He felt the pull of the ocean, calling him back to the depths, to the place where he truly belonged. As he walked deeper into the sea, he felt a sense of satisfaction wash over him. He had reminded the mortals of his power, and he had sent a clear message to the daughter of the Underworld Queen." }, { "author": "Melinoe", "message": ".\n`A tattooed, damp hand was raised as her blue eyes flickered toward a wisp of shadow that swirled in circles. Her voice lowered to a whisper as she spoke to her beloved spirit.` \"He deserves a less than welcomed visitor, go watch over him. Let his nights be sleepless and his dreams be his ever waking fear.\" `The spirit darted off after the man, losing the wispy dark form and disappearing into the waters. Melinoë remained, watching him leave back into the depths.` \"Do enjoy your oceans, Triton.\" `The Goddess of Ghosts and Nightmares uttered out to the departing man.` \"I hope your chaos is as satisfying as you'd like it to be.\" \n\n`Then, as hidden as she came, the spirits surrounded her once more. The once pale figure shifted to a pure black smudge of darkness on the horizon. Off in the other direction, deeper inland, she walked. There was much more work to do in the night in a time of war. She had new ghosts to collect into her ranks of the lost and despaired. Melinoë wished Triton well on his own soon-to-come struggles. She personally would not be around to witness them.`" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "The maritine art gallery showcases a collection of paintings, sculptures, and installations inspired by the sea. Local and international artists contribute pieces that capture the essence of Poseidon's realm, from epic seascapes to imaginative interpretations of marine mythology." }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton, so indignant and sure of his own correctness on the matter (as only a God could be), found himself in an unfamiliar and unsettling scenario. His usual demeanor, a blend of self-importance and authority, faltered in the face of Bendis's unexpected defiance. Triton had always been revered by the people of the nation, his control over the seas accepted with awe or at the very least, respectful attention. Yet, here stood Bendis, wholly unimpressed and openly critical of both his music and his persona.\n\nTaken aback by her blunt dismissal of his song lyrics and the cringe she found with his demeanor, Triton's usual confidence wavered. His eyebrows knitted together in a mix of confusion and irritation as he struggled to process her harsh critique. It was a rare occurrence for anyone to confront Triton with such candid disdain, and the experience left him slightly cowed. His posture, typically tall and commanding, slackened as he sought to muster a response. Ever since Persephone's curse all of his social interactions were disastrous, slowly chipping away at his confidence and well-being.\n\nThe situation escalated when Bendis, her patience worn thin by Triton's insinuations and insults, retorted with piercing accuracy. She accused him of projecting his insecurities, a statement that struck closer to the truth than Triton would ever admit. The realization that Bendis saw through the façade he presented to the world was a jarring blow to his ego. Her words, sharp and unyielding, challenged the very foundation of his self-perception. He snapped his notebook shut and tucked it into his back pocket, as if suddenly ashamed of it.\n\nIn this moment of intense confrontation, Bendis's anger seemed to bubble over. Her decision to express her frustration through a swift knee to Triton's groin was both shocking and humiliating for the god. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, causing him to keel over in agony. The regal, mighty sea god, now reduced to a pained figure, grappling with a vulnerability he rarely exposed. Thanks, Persephone!\n\n\"Unghhh...!\" His face twisted in pain as he cupped himself, several passersby gawking at the sight of the man.\n\nDespite the physical assault, Bendis's next action was unexpected. Instead of leaving Triton to wallow in his discomfort and humiliation, she seized his arm, dragging him with a determination that brooked no resistance. Her declaration that they were going to drown their grievances in alcohol was met with a mix of shock and resignation from Triton. Still reeling from the unexpected knee, he found himself being pulled through the streets, a spectacle for all to see. \n\n\"Wait a fucking minute, you crazy bitch!\" He roared, stumbling along behind her, trying to regain his composure while waiting for the pain to subside. He jerked his arm away from her and took up a lean against the side of a building, glaring at her from the side of his eye. \"I ought to skewer you on my trident and roast you over an open spit,\" He muttered with a scowl. And yet, he couldn't somehow be impressed by the sheer gall of her actions, and the sharp turnaround at realizing they both needed to get drunk together to blow the whole thing off. Despite his better judgement he went along with it, figuring things could only get better from here. \n\n\"Alright. But no more sneak attacks,\" He said, adjusting himself down there and standing upright once more. Now she had him." }, { "author": ".gabxxxxx", "message": "There was currently a war in Bendis' mind because part of her was wondering why in the hell she was doing such things to him. There was something happening to her, where she almost felt like she had no control over this, as if her body was doing more than she was allowing it to, and something in her found the inability to stop somewhat appealing. As if the control she barely held onto was stripped from her, and anger or annoyance or some type of negative emotion was taking over. She reveled in the emotion for a moment, staring at him in pain, and some type of power trip came from it. It was interesting, when one had barely enough power to overthrow a mortal's balance, to have an actual God hung over like pants on a hanger. \n\nA smirk spread across her face and she leaned against the same wall he was leaning against, looking at her fingernails, and she let out a small laugh when he groaned. Bendis looked up, seeing some of the people looking over at them, \"**Wow, you're really creating quite the *Show* Right now. Probably the type of show you wish your music made.**\" She laughed and looked over at Triton again, patting him on the shoulder and taking a few steps around in a circle, waiting for his dramatic display of pain to be over. \n\nLetting out an actual laugh, she rolled her eyes and started walking away from him, \"**You'd have to catch up to me to skewer me, and besides, I'm sure at this point you couldn't do that... Anyway.**\" She chuckled and took a few more steps, keeping herself a few paces ahead of him. Though, eventually she stopped walking, turning to him, a curt nod, \"**I cannot make such a promise.**\" A mischievous smile, a wink, and she grabbed for his hand, pulling him down the sidewalk, \"**We have plenty to do to get fucked up.**\" There were a few bars that she knew of down a block and to the left, so she began toward that area. \n\nThe first bar had more of a club vibe, and she let go of his hand, slinking into the crowd, trying to lose him. She was short, but her blonde hair made her stick out like a sore thumb since it was as white as the moon. Finding a small hole at the bar, she waited a moment for the bartender, but he was so busy, she used her small power to deliver her voice in his ear, \"**Two double shots of Tito's and a cranberry and Tito's as well for the Blonde lady.**\" He looked over, and she gave a sweet little wave, each of her fingers extending and bending into themselves. \n\nThe drink and shots were delivered relatively quickly after that, and she gave him her card so he could start a tab. Eventually, as she knew he would, Triton had found her at the bar, and she held the shot between her fingers up toward his face, \"**For your balls, maybe you'll grow a new pair?**\" She smirked, and at one point she had gotten a spot on a barstool, but there weren't any others around so Triton had to stand behind her, but as she turned to give him his shot, she put her knees on either sides of his legs and looked up at him, \"**Your music sucks, by the way. You'll need some help with it.**\" She clinked her own shot glass against his and took hers down, turning to grab for the vodka cranberry she had ordered for herself, and chased it with more vodka." }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "In the midst of the tumultuous dynamic that unfolded between Bendis and Triton, it became evident that an unseen battle raged within Bendis herself, one that led her to torment Triton in a manner that suggested she was not entirely in control of her actions. Triton, of course, knew Persephone's curse was at work, though he was unsure how much if was influencing the behavior of the Goddess. Worryingly, despite the internal conflict he detected, she seemed to derive a peculiar satisfaction from witnessing his discomfort, a sentiment that seemed to be further amplified by her burgeoning sense of power over him, as seen in the glimmer in her eyes. Triton appeared diminished and vulnerable as he remained keeled over, cupping himself, an amusing spectacle as she casually picked her nails. Whether or not he truly processed the zinger she delivered about the lack of interest his music received wasn't clear. \n\n\"You always been such a haughty bitch?\"\n\nAs Bendis decided to move on, her parting words to Triton were laced with challenge and insinuation, implying that any attempt on his part to retaliate would be futile given his current state. Yet, she could not seem to fully detach herself, as evidenced by the playful, yet ambiguous, promise she left hanging between them. Her actions, a blend of provocation and intrigue, led them toward the night's further escapades. Despite his better judgement he followed, the woman striking an oddly intriguing chord with the God. She was dangerous and felt like a challenge; she insulted him, but hinted at the prospect of more *Enjoyable* Activities later, should he play her game. There was a good chance Triton wasn't thinking straight when it came to women, still fresh off his breakup with Nemesis.\n\nUpon arriving at a lively bar that pulsated with the energy of a club, Bendis momentarily released Triton, delving into the throng. Triton struggled to keep up, pushing and maneuvering people out of his way as he tried to get to the bar, wondering to himself what he was doing here. Despite her ditching him, her distinct appearance made her an easy figure to locate. Slowly regaining his composure, he pulled up along side her, God of the Sea among a sea of inebriated mortals. \n\n\"My balls aren't your concern; touch them again and I'll pop your pretty little head off of your body like a cork from a bottle.\" He smiled sarcastically, taking the shot glass from her. He found himself drawn between her legs as she sat on the stool, hooking him to her. They were a little too close for comfort, but he went with it, projecting cool and calm, eager to reclaim his confidence and status in her eyes. But as they shared the drinks, her mockery continued unabated, critiquing his music with a blunt honesty that was softened only by the intimacy of their physical proximity. His brows furrowed and he glared down at her, ordering another round of shots and downing it immediately. \"My music is amazing, you just have terrible taste.\" He was signaling at the for another shot, the alcohol badly needed to tolerate her constant ridicule." }, { "author": ".gabxxxxx", "message": "The club was lively that night. There were men and women dancing up on one another in every corner of the place. People were making eyes across the bar, and a good number of women were hiking their tight dresses up way too high. The entire venue was oozing with the scent of sweat, perfume and cologne mixed in the air, and alcohol spilled down the corners of mouths from taking shots too quickly. Her eyes had scanned the room, she could feel a few of her believers around her, and because she was so focused on Triton, she hoped their hunt that night was successful. She had her own hunt to focus on. \n\nRunning a hand through her hair, she looked up at him, \"**You love calling me a bitch, do you think that might be a bad idea?**\" Looking down between her legs, she made it evident that he was quite close to her at that moment, \"**Again, you have to be able to catch me to do anything to me. Hard to do when you're folded over in the corner.**\" She took another sip of her drink, smiling around the straw as she tilted her head to the side some. In the back of her mind, something of a flirtatious inkling came to her mind, maybe it was the martinis she had earlier, plus the onset of the shot, and just being down under his gaze... Either way, she took one knee from the right side of his legs and swept it across the front of him, crossing her legs and twisting the barstool around so she was perpendicular to him and the bar, turning to the bartender who had brought more shots over. \n\nTriton had taken his the moment it was placed on the bar, and she signaled for two more while taking her own, \"**Better just leave the bottle. Put the whole thing on my tab.**\" She held her shot glass, now empty, in front of her as she twisted back to look at him. He was still holding the glass he had taken too, and she filled both of them up, \"**Guess we are going to go head to head here, then.**\" She ignored his comment about her taste for a moment as she let her head tilt back, and she gagged over the alcohol taste and the stupid fucking burn, laughing after she recovered though, she wiped the side of her mouth with the hand that was holding the bottle, \"**I have really good taste, you just don't have the lyrical abilities you think you have. Someone lied to you, Triton.**\" Bendis continued to laugh and pour another shot, \"**Someone out there lied to you. I'm sure you were born and told how *Special* You are... I'm sure your mother thinks you're the whole *World*!**\" The thought of him being a spoiled ass God made her irritated, and it was also comical. \n\nWhile he was sitting in the lap of luxury, she was out on the streets of the world, trying to find a way to exist. No training about \"Powers\" Or how to exist on the planet. She was constantly watching mortals all together, figuring out how to communicate and exist on the big rock. Many of the Gods didn't understand her, they didn't even know her. She was never invited up to Olympus or Atlantis. She was, eventually, acknowledged and invited to parties and what not when she started making a change in the mortals, leading and guiding many of them... But before then, alone. \n\nSo, sitting back on the barstool, legs still crossed, she looked up at Triton and held the next shot up, \"**You wouldn't know good taste if it hit you in the balls.**\"" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "Triton, feeling immersed in the pulsating beat of the club that night, like he was finally letting go for the first time since Nemesis dumped him, found himself in a dance of words and wits, a battle he was all too familiar with yet never quite prepared for. The atmosphere, thick with the innuendo of the night's promises, played into his hands—or so he thought. As Bendis challenged him, a spark of combative energy flared in his eyes, his posture defensive yet unmistakably intrigued by the gauntlet she had thrown down. He couldn't help but let a flirtatious grin spread across ruggedly handsome his face, despite the edge in her voice, his gaze lingering a bit too long in a way that suggested he was playing a game he intended to win.\n\n\"Calling you a bitch? Only if the shoe fits,\" He retorted, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and defiance, aware of how close they were, the heat between them almost palpable. He watched her movements, the way she casually took control of the space between them, her knee sweeping across him in a bold, flirtatious maneuver that didn't go unnoticed. Triton's heart raced, not just from the chase but from the realization that this encounter was veering into uncharted territories. Perhaps even dangerous territory.\n\nAs they went shot for shot, Triton's usual sharpness began to blur at the edges, the alcohol weaving its potent spell. With each drink, he felt the ground beneath him sway, his world tilting ever so slightly as if he were at sea without an anchor. Her laughter, laced with taunts and teasing, echoed in his mind, a siren's call that he found increasingly difficult to resist or refute. The mention of his upbringing, a sore point camouflaged by his usual arrogance, hit closer to home than he cared to admit. Yet, it was her laughter, so full of genuine amusement and challenge, that excited him the most.\n\nAs Bendis poured another round, Triton's grip on the glass faltered momentarily, a sign of his fading resolve. \"Good taste? I'll show you good taste,\" He said slightly, his voice a mix of jest and a drunken haze that was beginning to cloud his judgment. Remember, he had also drunk her martini earlier! The alcohol was indeed taking its toll, each word becoming more laboedr, each thought slipping through his grasp like water. He knew, deep down, that Bendis was reeling him in, that he was losing control over this interaction, and yet, part of him didn't care. The thrill of the chase, the heat of their exchange, and the intoxicating blend of desire and rivalry had him ensnared.\n\nAs Bendis held up the next shot, Triton's response was a half-hearted attempt at wit, his usual sharp tongue dulled by the drink. \"If good taste is hitting me, then consider me struck,\" He managed, his words heavy with the effects of their indulgence. In that moment, he was aware that the night would likely not end in his favor, that he was caught in a web he could no longer navigate with his usual dexterity. Yet, the part of him that relished the unknown, that danced on the edge of danger and desire, couldn't help but be intrigued by where this night might lead, even as he acknowledged the looming hangover of defeat." }, { "author": ".gabxxxxx", "message": "When men believed they had any power over a woman, she found it amusing. As much as he might have been able to physically overpower her, her mind was sharper, she was planning steps five ahead of him, and she could easily recognize his falling for her flirting. It wasn't that she felt he needed to \"Fall\" For anything, she knew the allure she had over men, and women, it was too easy. All she needed to do was make a few comments, a smirk here or there, and the rest was easy to do. Her mind was constantly in a state of figuring out whether or not there was a connection between her and whoever it was that she was planning on taking home that night. If they made eyes back at her, if they followed her movements and matched her vibe? An easy night for her. \n\nBendis could feel the alcohol settling on her mind, and she looked over at Triton, letting out a laugh, \"**Oh, yes, the shoe fits.**\" She took the shot, coughing some and reaching for the vodka cranberry, \"**The shoe fits very well!**\" Taking a larger gulp of the drink again, she continued laughing and put the bottle on the bar and she leaned forward just a little bit, \"**I might be a bitch, but you're an even *Bigger* Bitch!**\" Reaching forward, her one finger flicked toward his nose as she laughed and rolled her eyes at him. He was so *Emotional* And it was annoying. Bendis, the one that had started looking for meaningful connections with others, was feeling like all she wanted was to have fun. He was going to be a downer if she didn't set them up for success... And that meant getting him more drunk and doing something more fun, of course. \n\nTriton was hot, she couldn't lie, no matter what. He was the kind of hot that made women stop in their tracks. He was the kind of hot that made women think about them for days, maybe even weeks, after he gave them a little smile. He was the kid of hot that made Goddesses swoon... And, even Bendis, the woman, *The Goddess*, that he was staring down at, she felt no need to swoon. She, instead, wanted to make him feel like *He* Needed to swoon. Something in her had felt like a little switch had gone off, making her more... Strong. Strong against those she found attractive, strong in this situation with Triton, where she could resist the urge to just fall into his arms and let him hold her. Bendis wanted him to kneel before her, she wanted him to kiss her fucking shoes. So, she looked at him and grinned, \"**Triton, you wouldn't know good taste if it hit you in the balls!**\" Rolling her eyes for the fifteenth time that night, she looked over her shoulder, grabbing the bottle again, pouring them a shot. \"**Well, I am the good tasting thing, then... Right?**\"\n\nTaking the shot she put the now empty bottle and empty shot glasses on the bar and hopped down off the stool, looking up at Triton while grabbing for his hand. Starting to pull him toward the middle of the crowd of dancers, she never broke eye contact with him. She pulled him toward her before turning around and starting to dance on him. As the song kept going, she danced along, making sure to do everything to drive him crazy... And eventually she got bored. It wasn't even fun to mess with him at some points. So, instead of doing what she didn't feel like doing, she decided it was time to visit a pub, but not before starting something crazy to follow them.\n\n\"**Let's see how fucking tough you are, Triton!**\" She grabbed for a girl's ass that was standing next to a few guys. Making it look like Triton had grabbed the girl's ass and the guys turned around and started after the pair of them. \"**Come on! Come on!**\" She laughed, screaming between laughs and got out of the club and started down the block toward the other bars on the row. The mortals were chasing them still and she screamed as she pushed into a pub, Triton was, hopefully, close behind her so they disappeared into the crowd, \"**Come on, let's sneak out the back.**\" Grabbing his hand again, she led him toward the swinging door in the back of the pub, walking through a small kitchenette that prepared the pub's food in a microwave, \"**We can get out to the alley through here.**\" She took him through the large metal door and they were in the alley behind the club and pub, and she turned toward Triton, \"**I think I'm drunk... Let's go back to my apartment.**\" Pointing toward the end of the alley, she started toward where there would be cabs or Uber cars she could order." } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "An interactive museum dedicated to maritime history, exploration, and marine science. Visitors can engage with hands-on exhibits, model ships, and educational displays that highlight the city's seafaring heritage and its connection to Poseidon's influence." }, { "author": "Elisa Roselin", "message": "It had been some time for Elisa to become used to the changes, the small slips of information that everything she knew wasn't entirely truthful. The city they had moved to was clearly glamorous, though it's residents were peculiar. Elisa had done her best to fit in, donning a dress of pale pink with a cream overcoat atop it. Darkened shades shielded her eyes from wayward glances, attention focused on the artwork and displays of the museum itself.\n\nEach ship donned copious amounts of detail, for she couldn't help but struggle to restain herself on toying with any of the items. Elisa's mother Anna, had informed her that her father was a great lover of ships, of the ocean; 'a passion like no other'. Her boots clicked soundly against wooden floors, as turning around brought her faced with a wider corridor that opened up to a gallery of paintings, each one to represent the evolution of maritime sailing. \n\n*A daughter of a sailor.* Elisa thought to herself. *He loved my mother... And then he left.* Grey eyes drifted to one of the paintings, a magnificent ship etched into the canvas. Her hands rested idle by her sides, though her fingers clung tightly against her palms." }, { "author": "Erebus", "message": "As Elisa passed all the paintings on display, a sense of unease seemed to wash over the room as if the lights within had seemingly dimmed for whatever reason. To most visitors, they would assume it to be an automatic system to help preserve the artefacts on display, who would dare face the wrath of Poseidon for damaging such an impressive collection? None of Poseidonia people. But, in truth, there was no need for such systems in the land ruled by Gods, so this adjustment to the room? Something else was causing it. Something, just like her, visiting.\n\nAnother painting hung on display, it's frame a bit more aged with faint cracks around the sides of it. A harsh storm brewed as a longboat sailed on, carrying what could be estimated as over 60 men. The round shields, the sail bearing a Celtic-weaved hammer, the dragon carved into the front of the vessel; Elisa had no doubts that this was a Viking ship. *'The Vikings travel to America - 1021AD'*. The harshness of the waves, the depiction of each man screaming what could be assumed was orders to one another. Despite their clashing beliefs, it wasn't hard to see why Poseidonia would hang a piece dedicated to them up... But with every moment spent looking upon the painting, that same uneasy feeling crept up, like a spider slowly scaling up bare skin.\n\n\"You know the Vikings had Gods.\"\n\nA voice, unrecognisable. It came from just behind Elisa. If she were to turn, she would see a figure dressed in all black, a thick cloak wrapped around it's shoulders and draping down to it's feet. They stood out so much, like they had been pulled from one realm of existence into another. The aura he gave off... He was a God, no- something else that rivalled a God. He wasn't from here, and judging by his appearance, the only logical answer was from the Underworlds of Hades." }, { "author": "Elisa Roselin", "message": "Dimness, a faintest smell of ash creeping into her nose. She continued to stare at the painting, the date releasing it to ancient history, far more than she would ever remember, if she could remember. Reaching out a hand, Elisa's fingers were mere inches away from touching the painting..\n\nA low timbre of a voice cut through, forcing Elisa to turn around to face whomever, or whatever it was. The unease allowed itself to further crept along her spine, along her neck, leaving every hair to stand on end. Who was he? A clenched jaw made words difficult, merely taking in the sight of a man whom could have very well stepped out of the same bygone age as the ship itself. \"They did.\" She managed to say, one foot sliding backwards. \n\n\"I thought those like you wouldn't be allowed here..\" Surely she had read the tales of the Underworld clashing with those of Olympus, not often welcomed in eachother's realms. One of her hands shot up to touch her shoulder, as a sinking feeling seemed to run across it—Elisa found nothing amiss. The young Demigod's eyes met the figures own, staring with caution, and staring with **Fear**. \n\nWould he have sensed the connection? Anna herself never would let it slip from her lips, at least not until she felt it was time. But time was fickle, like the ocean." }, { "author": "Erebus", "message": "The Personified Darkness cold sense her unease and fear towards him. He had spent countless millennia getting use to the sensation that never truly went away. To be feared, to have one dread your presence, to be unsure of your nature and intentions towards them. The most common fears in the world was that of the dark; and Erebus did a good job of reminding people why they feared it.\n\n\"We're not.\" He simply responded to her question, that seemed more like her mind trying to frame the possibility of why someone like Erebus would be in Poseidonia. His kind wasn't welcomed, well, not unless they bent the knee to Poseidonia's namesake. No, his presence in this realm, in this city, in this very museum broke the neutrality that Hades had established. To the World around, Erebus was technically conspiring behind the Emperor of the Dead's back. Now, would he care? Come now, this is Erebus. Since when did he care what the three brothers thought?\n\nQuietly stepping forward, Erebus' eyes lingered on the painting, taking in all the details as if he was recalling a memory; a distant memory. He stopped just within arm's reach of it, almost standing right beside Elisa as he looked on, finally speaking up once again. \"Yes... They had their Gods that they prayed and worshipped to, just like how the Mortals pray and worship us. We murdered them, well, Your Father and the other Olympians did. Your family seems to have a efficiency with that; *Deicide.*\" The Primordial would speak before coming to a pause, his voice dripping with venom whenever the mention of family came from his words.\n\n\"But what happens when you kill every other God? Well, you turn the sword on your Brothers and Sisters. That is exactly what your Father and his Brother are doing now.\" Erebus finished, turning down to Elisa now as his eyes burned into hers. Even behind the shades she wore, she could see the burning orange in Erebus' eyes, flickering alive as a power unlike any she had come across so far..." }, { "author": "Elisa Roselin", "message": "His accusations burned as much as the ferocity laced between his words. Elisa had grown up in the mortal world, with their ideals, and their dreams. Lands of the Gods were a reality that she had barely one foot inside, the testing of power. Surely she would be exempt, even as a daughter of Poseidon, from the malice of the primordial. Shoulders falling rigid the closer he drew, her lips pursed tightly. \"Are you hoping I answer for the actions of my family? Of my Father? Neither of us hold the scales.\" \n\nHer hand removed the shades from her face, revealing a pair of grey-hued eyes in their wake. They stared ahead, defiant. \"You may have the wrong person.\" Little did she know of what her family truly had committed, aside from what had been cherry-picked for the history books. *Deicide.* It stung to even hear it. No nearby objects were in sight aside from the paintings, nothing to truly defend herself. What was the point of being born a demi-god, she wondered, if you were denied the very power that ran thick in the veins of your sire? \n\nFurther, she took a half-step backwards, still keen on keeping distance between them. The power radiating from Erebus's eyes sunk into her mind, and it was Elisa who felt cornered, the muscles in her legs pleading her to run. \"Darkness.\" She wouldn't say his name, only what he represented." }, { "author": "Erebus", "message": "Darkness? So she knew who he was, not that he cared, but it was better than be mistaken for Hades for the three-hundredth time. Her words painted her in... A much more wise and mature image compared to the rest of her family. Of course, he wasn't going to hold her accountable for the actions of family she had only just met, she was probably still coming to terms with being a literal deity too. It wasn't everyday that you learn that you're the daughter of a literal God, let alone that said god was actively starting an entire war within the Pantheon.\n\nShaking his head at both her questions of if she would be punished and if he had the wrong person, Erebus' eyes turned back to the painting of screaming Vikings as they battled the very seas. Did any of those men know the true extend of how the world came to be? All existence and time itself? \n\n\"Long before you and I existed, there was nothing but the single true Master of all. With his power, he brought forth me and the other Primordials who helped create all we know today. Soon enough, the first Titans and Gods came into creation. The Gods declared war on the Titans and Primordials, wiping them all out except for a select few. Once all power had been seized, the Gods would rule in a relatively twisted sense of peace... Until other Pantheons came about; beings with their own beliefs and Followers...\"\n\nErebus paused, clearing his throat as he took a breath. The subject itself clearly had a toll on the Primordial, but alas he continued:\n\n\"Believing themselves *'Superior'*, The Gods... Your Father, wiped the others from this World. Now as the sole ruling Pantheon, turmoil and conflict has brewed within ourselves, leading to your Father and the King of Olympus declaring war on each other. They threaten everything, for none of them realise the true extend of their destruction... Tell me, what do you know of ***Chaos?***\" Erebus questioned, turning his eyes back to Elisa now as he awaited a response." }, { "author": "Elisa Roselin", "message": "She had not expected a history lesson, though it gave her time to recollect on the recent knowledge. The status of Demigod so often carried a sense of wonder, and underneath, a cruel reality. Elisa had yet to grasp why her Father had chosen so brashly to start a war, leaving Mortals to be trod underfoot at the cost of their pride. \"And they ruled and ruled until my Father decided to question the very power they held.\" She gestured a hand infront of the painting. \"If you are wondering why he did what he did, I cannot answer that. I am not my Father.\" There was an accusatory glance towards Erebus, for his explanation only stung the wounds inflicted by Elisa's upbringing. Pausing, a brow arched. \"I thought beings of darkness hated the light.\" \n\nErebus's next question caught her off guard.\n\n\"I know little of chaos. It can mean many things. War, conflict of the mind... It has no end.\" She shrugged her shoulders. \"Chaos to everyone else can be frightening. You must already be used to it.\" The Demigod could imagine chariots of fire, hounds of bone and ash nipping at the wheels. With the amount of times war had been raised, Elisa found it peculiar the God of Darkness himself say it to be questioned; When one has seen it once, have they not seen it all? Her fingers dancing along the rims of her shades, Elisa's head tilted. \"Why do you **Care**?\"" }, { "author": "Erebus", "message": "Hearing her response, Erebus was not surprised at the answer he had received back. Her definition of what *Chaos* Was was the representation of the term itself or the state of being within it. She didn't know that Chaos itself was a being, like him and her... Or rather, a concept that established everything from nothing. He turned his head away, an almost amused glint in his eye as if he was a teacher receiving an expected answer only for them to correct it once their student finished speaking.\n\n\"True. Also incorrect. Chaos isn't just the state at which we can be lost and confused in; It's a being like you and me. Before there was Gods, Titans, and Primordials, there was nothing but **Chaos**. The Christians were almost correct; a being that existed and ruled above all, creating the very substances we reside in before resting. All things exist *Because* Of Chaos... *My Mother. My Father.*\"\n\nErebus stopped his explanation. He let all the words he just spoke enter Elisa's head as she began to process the realisation that there was one, all-seeing, all-powerful being that ruled over them all. There was, however, one small detail of note in Erebus' words: Chaos created everything before resting. What did he mean by that? How does an all-ruling being rest? Not even Erebus was sure how his Master 'rested', beauty sleep or all, but It laid dormant for now. Erebus feared for the state that It wouldn't.\n\n\"Now comes my fears.\" He said, pacing slowly towards her, his steps releasing a soft spell of black mist with each step that quietly vaporises under the shining lights from the windows. A simple dance of darkness & light, darkness & light, darkness & light. Until finally, he was now directly in front of Elisa.\n\n——————————\n\n\"While I do not know My Master, I do know that he holds all power over everything. If he wishes Zeus gone? It's done. If he wishes Hades non-existent? At his command. If he wishes your Father dead? Only a word needed. I fear what will occur when so much death and destruction plagues this world, that Chaos must awaken and intervene. I have seen his eye, for only a second. I fear he will simply gaze upon the destruction left by this war and merely... **Restart.** Wipe the board clean. Do away with us... Do you see my concerns now?\"" }, { "author": "Elisa Roselin", "message": "Elisa stood in silence. It was difficult to come to terms with what Erebus was laying out. The source of chaos was the very being that could end all conflict with a simple word, a whispered command. Turning away from him, she paced to the left, to the right. \"So you are telling me, all this conflict, this **Chaos**..Can just be ended with what, a snap of the fingers?\" Running her fingers through her hair, she dug her toes into the soles of her shoes. \"When my mortal mother raised me, she did so without questioning the entirety of the universe. She cares about the smaller things in life, despite our lifestyles.\" \n\nHer heartbeat was picking up its pace, and briefly, she thought that the very paintings themselves were moving. Staring into the being's glowing eyes, she decided to confront him directly. \"If you are so concerned with my Father, why not do it yourself? **Why do you care so much?\"** Words tumbled from her lips, giving life to each thought that entered her mind. Elisa saw Erebus as being selfish for going to her instead of anyone else. It was almost insulting, to feel as if she were merely a pawn to be toyed with until no longer useful. Her expression contorted with a mix of fearful confusion. Her father was a King, yet he seemingly abandoned her all the same." }, { "author": "Erebus", "message": "Watching her pace across the room with what he could assume was an existential dilemma, Erebus gave her the moment she needed to process the facts of an all powerful Master being the one ruler above all... Oh, and he has been slumbering for over well over a couple Millennia by now. \"They could snap their fingers and end everything, like an artist throwing away a canvas to start anew. That is the fate I fear for us if this War goes on.\" Erebus said, enforcing his prior point even more for the Demigod.\n\n Upon being confronted by Elisa now, Erebus' head lifted itself to gaze down at the little deity, a brow cocking as she spoke about why he was so concerned; why he *Cares* So much. In truth? Erebus would've liked nothing more than her Father and his Brother's to tear each other apart for all they had done. Nearly all the problems the World and Realms has come to face was by their hands. Three incompetent kings with all the power, well, almost all the power. \"Because. I will put it simply as I can: despite the idea of Watch bother Poseidon and Zeus kill each being incredibly satisfying, both do not understand the consequences of what happens if this war escalates. Collateral damage, Landscape becoming unstable, *Deicide*. If this Pantheon destroys itself, **We all die.** Chaos would awaken upon feeling feeling their creations tear themselves asunder, wipe us all from existence, and start fresh.\"\n\n—————————\n\nHe paused, exhaling a breath as he turned himself to gaze out into the world that sat behind the large glass panels. So much life and creation laid there, and it could all be so easily swept away, rendered back to nothing. Not even atoms left. Then, his eyes returned to Elisa. \"That is why I came to you. Despite your Father's claims of being the powerful King, him and his Brother's can't comprehend doing something without the support of others. If his lovers, children, and followers all turn against him and demand that No, they do not want this war, then they will be forced to submit to what the rest of the Pantheon wants.\"\n\nHe paced over to the window now, the sunlight being of unease to him, but would survive. \"It's not as simple as going to either King and demanding them end the War for all our sakes. You'll come to learn that this family is driven by petty, emotionally driven, ego. Sensibility seems to be the rare trait amongst us... And I hold hope you possess it.\"" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "A vibrant marketplace along the harbor, featuring stalls and shops selling unique maritime artifacts, nautical themed art, and locally crafted souvenirs. Visitors can explore this bustling area, filled with the aroma of sea breeze and the sounds of merchants haggling over seafaring treasures." }, { "author": "Nemesis", "message": "──────────────────── ❝ *Vengeance is mine . . . * ❞ ────────────────────\nSETTING﹕ Somewhere near the backside of the bazaar.\nPINGS﹕ \nMENTIONS: \nNOTES﹕S that D, shut it down.\n──────────────────── ❝ *And I will repay.*❞ ────────────────────\n\nIn the shadowy embrace that enveloped Nemesis and Erebus, the goddess's alliance with Poseidon introduced a profound dimension to their confrontation. Her alignment with the God of the Seas, revered for his stringent views on divine decorum, mirrored her rigid commitment to justice and cosmic consonance. Their shared principle underscored her stance, elevating her beyond her lineage. In Poseidon's eyes, she was valued not merely as a daughter of Nyx and Erebus but as *__Nemesis__*—an entity defined by her own virtues and deeds.\n\nThe rapid descent into night, hastened by her father's burgeoning ire, seemed to mirror the tumult within her spirit. As the dark hand of Erebus swept across her face, extinguishing the cigarette and symbolically snuffing out the last vestige of her defiance, the goddess's eyes widened in a chilling wave of realization. This was no mere display of paternal authority; it was a raw demonstration of the primal force Erebus wielded, a force against which even the gods might falter.\n\nHis proximity, now so close that she could feel the chill emanating from the shadows that clung to him, was overwhelming. The air around them seemed to pulse with an ancient and absolute power. Erebus's form, shrouded in mist and darkness, stood as a manifestation of the void itself, reminding her of the depths from which both he and, by extension, Nemesis herself had emerged.\n\n——————————————————————\n\nLaden with scorn and dismay, his words cut deeper than the night's chill. The mention of Nyx, the revered Mother Night, coupled with the accusation of betrayal, struck the very core of her being. Being labeled a betrayer by the one whose ideals of balance and retribution she had sought to uphold was a blow more grievous than any physical wound. As Erebus's gaze shifted towards the blackened sea, Nemesis allowed herself a moment of vulnerability for introspection. The weight of her decisions, the path she had chosen, weighed heavily on her. Was her pursuit of justice, her alignment with forces that stood in opposition to her kin, a betrayal of the cosmic order they had all contributed to?\n\nThe seeds of doubt were like poison, seeping into the cracks of her resolve.\n\nYet, as Erebus's diatribe persisted, something within Nemesis began to stir—a flicker of resistance against the tide of condemnation. His depiction of her actions as a betrayal of foundational principles and his invocation of Chaos as the ultimate arbiter of her fate kindled a spark of defiance within her. This would not mark the end of her story. Nor would her legacy be marred by infamy.\n\nTo believe she would dare disrespect her mother was *His folly.*\n\nEngaging with her father's piercing stare, the goddess, anchored by the immutable scales of justice, found her voice amidst the brewing storm.\n\n——————————————————————\n\n**\"If you must speak to Mother Night, tell her that her daughter's commitment to justice remains unwavering.\"**\n\nShe asserted, continuing to echo with conviction.\n\n**\"Inform her that the balance I seek, even if it leads me into the heart of Chaos, is a journey I undertake with full awareness, guided by the principles *She* Instilled in *Me*.\"**\n\nIn this pivotal moment, Nemesis reaffirmed her identity, not just as a goddess of retribution, but a beacon of perseverance amidst the gathering shadows. Her decision to step back from the confrontation was not a retreat but a bold affirmation of her autonomy and adherence to the timeless principles that defined her essence.\n\n**\"*Justice demands sacrifice...*\"**\n\nThe goddess proclaimed, addressing the reason behind her statement, which she had once relayed to her champion. Her tone carried a profound sense of loss and determination. Even in her otherworldliness, she stood before Erebus not just as a goddess, but as his daughter forced out in exile. \n\n**\"I wasn't even granted the chance to say goodbye to her, to Hecate, to any of you. So spare me your pretense of emotional understanding when you've never *Once* Considered mine.\"**\n\nWith that, Nemesis turned and stepped into the receding shadows, her indomitable spirit shining brightly. The serpentine shades summoned forth by Erebus failed to dim the tenacious light that illuminated her path." }, { "author": "Erebus", "message": "Erebus was certain Nemesis would crumble under his words. His lecture and scolding being the mixture that would see the Goddess rout in her beliefs in whatever she saw in that poor excuse of an Atlantean King. When her head lowered and she seeming submitted to her Father's words, Erebus would lift his head up to stand defiantly... But he wasn't met with his child in defeat, not when she matched his stared with her own, one that felt more like a mirror than anything else. He didn't see submission, but instead *Defiance.*\n\nHe took in all her words, finding them false and misguided yet also feeling a sense of... Reflection? Nostalgia? He wasn't sure what this feeling was, but it felt familiar. A familiarity he didn't enjoy. Not one bit. Shaking the feeling for now, he watched his daughter turn away from his and begin to walk off. His darkness seemingly fading with each step she took towards it. He didn't feel anything in his chest, but the nerves in his body twisted as she defied him, defied balance for her interpretation of it.\n\nUpon her mention of his lack of emotional understanding, Erebus would pivot his head up to stare deeply into the back of his Daughter as she walked off. Nemesis may have had centuries to her name, but she was still an infant compared to him. She hadn't experienced loss like he had. In her pursuit of this *Balance* She would face down other Gods that could kill her, but not only that; she could face down her own blood. The same blood she didn't get a chance to say goodbye to. That's why this feeling was so familiar.\n\n——————————-\n**\"Do you even know what it is like to never see a loved one again? It means that everything about their person, their eyes, smiles, voice, and words will never be seen, heard nor felt again. Would you like to take a guess at how many of my own I have had to watch fade away? How many voices I will never have grace my ears? How many bright smiles I will never bare witness again? Hm? Some of them don't even get a chance to usher their goodbyes, nor even the chance to deliver a final word. I've seen people I love crumble, disappear, shatter and burn. Do you know how long that remains with you? I'm still waiting for that answer myself. But that's not all. Do you know what the most painful thing about it all is? How it doesn't even matter what they die for. So do not tell me about how I never considered your emotions. I'm only trying to spare you from becoming what I have become.\"**" }, { "author": "Nemesis", "message": "──────────────────── ❝ *Vengeance is mine . . . * ❞ ────────────────────\nSETTING﹕ Somewhere near the backside of the bazaar.\nPINGS﹕ \nNOTES﹕I listened to Lollipop on repeat while writing this, which is so wild when you think about it lyrically. One of my weird writing moments.\n──────────────────── ❝ *And I will repay.*❞ ────────────────────\n\nIn the wake of her father's raw exposition, Nemesis's strides faltered with each word from Erebus echoing like the mournful toll of a distant bell, resonating through the dense, shadow-laden air that enveloped them. The revelation, stark and unadorned, sliced through the fabric of her resolve, exposing the fragile threads of empathy and shared sorrow that bound daughter to father, goddess to the primordial embodiment of darkness.\n\nDespite the defiant mantle she had wrapped around herself, the seeds of doubt Erebus had sown began to sprout, nurtured by the poignant truths he unveiled. His voice, heavy with the weight of eons, carried the somber melody of loss and enduring grief, a testament to the countless farewells etched into the core of his being. The concept of loss, so vast and all-encompassing, seemed to dwarf their present confrontation, rendering their dispute a mere shadow play against the backdrop of eternity's expanse.\n\nStill, even as his words sought to envelop her in the cold embrace of forewarning, Nemesis felt the ember of her resolve flare into defiance. The notion that her father, for all his primordial wisdom and insight into the cyclical nature of loss, might perceive her actions as naïveté or folly, ignited a fierce determination within her. She recognized the paradox at the heart of their discord: the chasm that divided them was bridged by their mutual understanding of sacrifice, yet widened by their disparate interpretations of balance and justice.\n\nFacing her father, Nemesis's eyes did not reflect submission but a complex, shared heritage. Their exchange, a dance of words, resonated with the depth of their intertwined fates, separate yet inseparably bound by the threads of existence.\n\n—————————————————————-\n\nWith a voice steady and infused with the gravity of her purpose, Nemesis replied,\n\n**\"Father, your tales of loss and the silent vigils you've held for those who've crossed the threshold into oblivion, I do not, I cannot dismiss lightly. They're not just echoes of the past to me. They're a reminder of what's at stake, of what I might have to face down the line.\"**\n\nHer words, while firm, acknowledged the vast gulf of experience between them yet bridged it with a shared resolve. As she spoke, the shadows seemed to lean in, the ambient darkness pulsing gently as if the heart of the night itself was in tune with her words.\n\n**\"But know this—our blood does not doom us to a cycle of perpetual sorrow. It empowers us to forge ahead, to sculpt a legacy that transcends the confines of our grievances. Here I am choosing to embrace it.**\n\nShe paused, letting the silence between them stretch, a momentary truce in their eternal debate." }, { "author": "Erebus", "message": "As Nemesis spoke of her path to strive forward and forge on ahead, Erebus would reel his head away with an annoyed expression now across his face. It felt as if she took his words and misinterpreted what he was trying to say to her. This wasn't a warning, nor was it a guiding hand of what she might face down the line; He was telling her that this conflict had no benefit going forward. How can two be so closely bonded... Yet share different views upon the same words? Why did she have to be so much like him, yet so different?\n\n**\"You're not listening to me, Nemesis. This is no point in fighting in this conflict! What do you think will happen when you're laid in a ditch with your guts hanging out, Zeus reigning over Poseidon's kingdom? Or Poseidon claiming control of Olympus, execution any and all who had opposed him? To strive on this path is to strive towards not just your own doom, but the eventual doom of everyone else.\"**\n\nErebus stepped forward, closing the distance between them. Erebus and her Mother had already transcended their grievances, realising there was no point in trying to fight the Olympians like their Primordial others did. When the Primordials died, the Gods took control and established order and, whilst extremely chaotic and imperfect, balance. For centuries, they held this balance, but now? They threaten it... And Erebus knew Chaos wouldn't give any second chances.\n\n**\"Think, Nemesis! What legacy is there to sculpt or fight for when all this bloodshed will do is reawaken Chaos once again? Do you think he will beckon you into a new age as he swipes us all from existence to forge a new Pantheon? To forge a new legacy that sees us all dead, erased, and forgotten? Do you understand why I'm telling you not to do this? This path you're choosing to embrace leads you down a road of your own demise, just like...\"**\n\nErebus paused, not wanting to continue further." }, { "author": "Nemesis", "message": "──────────────────── ❝ *Vengeance is mine . . . * ❞ ────────────────────\nSETTING﹕ Somewhere near the backside of the bazaar.\nPINGS﹕ \nNOTES﹕Concluding my first scene. Thank you for the daddy issues and brilliant story. Idk if you read these, but I love writing them. \n──────────────────── ❝ *And I will repay.*❞ ────────────────────\n\nAs Erebus's warnings cascaded over her like a tempestuous wave, Nemesis stood unyielding. His words, though imbued with the depth of ancient wisdom and the scars of bygone conflicts, did not shackle her; they were but the winds beneath her expansive wings.\n\nBeneath the umbral canopy, where light and shadow intertwined, the essence of Nemesis was both unveiled and honed. She transcended the mere role of a daughter of darkness, emerging as a sovereign force in the cosmic dance of power and principles.\n\nThe ancient deity's palpable frustration, mirroring the tension that vibrated between them, only fueled her inner fire. His warnings, meant to dissuade, unwittingly outlined her destined path. The legacy she sought to sculpt was not one of heedless destruction, but of a balance so profound that even the gods would tremble at its justice.\n\n**\"I hear your words, but it is you who fails to grasp mine.\"** \n\nNemesis calmly asserted, her composure unshaken amidst internal tumult.\n\n**\"You speak of a legacy mired in blood and chaos, yet overlook the very nature of my being. I am Nemesis, the arbiter of balance, the scales upon which justice is weighed. To turn from this path is to deny the *Nature of my very essence*.\"**\n\n—————————————————————-\n\nAs Erebus's final caution lingered, unfinished and heavy with unspoken fears, Nemesis's determination deepened. She recognized the gravity of his concerns but remained steadfast in her belief that her journey was hers to define—a journey rooted not in denial but in the potential for a new dawn.\n\n**\"As I move forward, know that it is not in defiance of your wisdom but in pursuit of a vision that transcends the darkness you predict. Where our legacy is not one of ruin but of restoration.\"**\n\nPreparing to leave, the goddess felt a certain pull, an acknowledgment of the deep bond that linked them despite their diverging paths. She turned back to face her father one last time.\n\n**\"I will see you on the front lines.\"**\n\nWith this parting sentiment, Nemesis receded into the embrace of the encroaching shadow, her departure not a retreat but a declaration. She left Erebus enveloped in a profound silence, a space now laden with the weight of her resolve and the promise of a new chapter yet to be written." }, { "author": "mcmunt", "message": "**__[Scene Concluded]__**" }, { "author": "itsjess", "message": "It had been a good deal of time since she's been to the bazaar but Nike was making time now. As she arrived at the edge of everything, she was struck by the warm weather and the amazing smells that filled the air. If she wasn't on a specific mission she would have walked through and spent far too much time in the booths and sampling... Everything. Perhaps another day. Nike looked around focusing; she was here for one person and needed to find and dealing with thim.\n\nAs the goddess of Victory, Nike was used to winning, to supporting champions, championing heroes and leading to success in multitudes of avenues. But not winning, huge losing streaks or the like, drew her because that was messing up her vibe, her streak and positioning. Here she fouond the greatest source of that. One man whose bad luck was pretty damn messed up and she needed to stop him before things were headed for the worse.\n\nTriton, Poseidon's son. She knew coming here to Poseidonia especially for the reason that she was there, could be risky but sometimes you just needed to do the necessary. The delicious smells surrounded her as did the cacophony of bazaar noises but she stayed focused, her wings disappearing as she wandered further until she spotted her target. Nike walked with purpose right up to him and got in his way.\n\nNike stared him down and didn't let him pass. \"So here you are, Triton. Have you managed to break your massive losing streak because I'm pretty sure its a no and regardless of the Fates, it's really is a personal insult, to me. N oone is this big of a loser, I mean really. Things could change, or maybe I just kill you and stop it all. Better to ask forgiveness than permission. Or you could apologise and fix it. So go ahead. Apologise.\" ||" }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "The oceanic bazaar, nestled in the embrace of the harbor, was a place of maritime culture and commerce. The warmth of the sun glistened off the cobblestone path, lighting Triton's steps as he walked. Wooden docks creaked rhythmically as anchored ships beat against them, running parallel to a promenade lined with an array of stalls and shops. Each stall, awash with vibrant colors, displayed an eclectic assortment of unique maritime artifacts; from antique sextants to polished conch shells, each piece held some relevance to the sea. Nautical-themed art adorned the walls of the shops, showcasing paintings of legendary sea battles, tranquil coastlines, and mythical sea creatures. The air was saturated with the tangy scent of brine mingling with the rich aroma of tropical spices and fresh seafood. Artisans and craftsmen proudly exhibited their locally crafted souvenirs, capturing the essence of the ocean in hand-blown glasswork, intricate knotwork, and driftwood sculptures.\n\nTriton's long, curly hair fell freely over his shoulders, framing a face marked by a serene yet confident expression. His chest was bare, revealing a toned torso that spoke to a disciplined dedication to physical fitness, and his skin glistens with the soft kiss of Grecian sunlight. He was just strolling along, minding his own business when Nike, in all of her golden glory, stomped right up to him and blocked his way. A sculpted brow rose as he stared at her. \"Yes, here I am. And here *You* Are... Blocking my path. Long time no see, Nike, I —\" She cut him off, and once he understood the nature of her visit his gaze hardened and he looked annoyed. *Fucking Persephone. ||\n\nTriton was coming in hot. Before she knew what was even happening he reached out and grabbed her by the throat, walking her backwards until her heels hung off the docks, threatening to cast her into the water. \"Or perhaps I should take you down into those dark, watery depths and let the sharks feast on your corpse.\" His hand squeezed tighter and his eyes narrowed. Triton had taken just about enough shit from **Everyone**, and something in him had finally snapped. \n\n||" }, { "author": "Nike, Goddess of Victory", "message": "Nike stood her ground, not a great effort at first as she stood in front of Triton, looking at home near the sea, not that she expected anything else. The market continued on around them as their confrontation continued. She easily tossed her long braid over her shoulder, filling the her space easily and just shy of encroaching on his personal space. \"Long time indeed.\" She slowly grinned as her intent because more clear. She didn't know what he had done to piss off the Queen of the Underworld that she cursed him like this and maybe she should bring this up to to her but here and now, it was Triton in front of her and was who she was focused on. She was almost amused by his reaction, evoking his father.\n\n\"You're excused... Only not really. What am I apologising for exactly, coming to talk to you, hmm? Poseidon don't like talking. It's not an accusation if it is the truth, unless you're wrong? You should watch what you have to say, Trit—\" Nike was stunned for a split second as she spoke when he struck, grabbing her around the neck and push her backwards. A cheap shot to be sure and he moved quick but she recovered and was quicker, stronger, pissed off. \"I'd like to to see you try,\" She seethed, her wings unfurling behind her and keeping he aloft as she gripped his wrist. \"Don't do something you will regret Triton. Have you learned to fly since last we saw each other? Or do you just want to see what happened?\" She had been annoyed before, the skew of his Fate throwing her own off like very few could do and now, now she was angry, with the temper of her own father, because of this reckless son of Poseidon.\n\n||" } ]

[ { "author": "etherealqueen1", "message": "Where: Thetis's Inn \nWho: Amphitrite and Thetis" }, { "author": "Amphitrite", "message": "***The waves crashed against the shoreline of the small, lush green island Thetis's inn rested on. The dolphin Amphitrite rode on quickened its pace as they grew closer to the island. She was thankful for her companion, that the dolphin was kind enough to let her grasp onto its fin and lead her here. Travel by the sea creatures was often better than her just swimming about the ocean. It didn't take much longer for her to reach the coastline, the dolphin stopping and allowing her to tread closer to it on her own. Stepping onto the sandy beach, she turned to face the sea. Waving to her dolphin companion, she started to make her way up towards the inn. Before her departure from Atlantis, she ensured the sea creatures would maintain their discretions on her whereabouts. Though she hardly cared if her children knew, there was a reason her sister remained hidden on this island.*** \n\n~\n\n***The sea goddess had a complicated relationship with Thetis. They were once close, though they grew distant after some time.After her marriage to Poseidon, it seemed Thetis had her own trouble brewing. She knew her sister had gone for Poseidon and Zeus, but while Poseidon had shifted his focus to Amphitrite Zeus had other plans. The sea queen new little of the prophecy that was spoken, yet it wasn't hard to dissect it was serious enough to even scare Zeus. Scare him into forcing a marriage on her. She didn't agree with what he had done to her sister, as he had ultimately been the one to tear them apart. The distance came when Thetis had her troubles to deal with, and Amphitrite her own. Both living different lives and enduring fates that didn't align with one another. The last she heard was Thetis kept herself hidden on a small island, their correspondence was not often enough for her to know more. She didn't blame her sister for it, not after what happened all those years ago. But this was now the present, and the sea queen sought to reconnect with her sister after so long.***\n\n~\n\n***In a way, it was also Amphitrite's fault their relationship didn't remain close bonded. After she was wed, she had been too absorbed into her new duties she had to fulfill. Learning the ways of Atlantis and of course adjusting to married life. She was a natural at both, but later down the line her own marriage strained. Children soon became involved, and she fought more than ever to fix what had been broken. It took much of her time and thought, she failed as a sister to communicate with Thetis as often as she wanted. And now there was this war between the two brothers, with the third remaining neutral for now. Whatever prophecy was given to Thetis, it was best she stayed on her island. Far away from the war, far away from Zeus himself at least. The sea queen finally strayed from her growing thoughts, returning to reality for the moment. She finally stood outside of the B&B her sister had created, sensing the various demigods and even mortals roaming about. To them, she was just here to stay for either some relaxation or as a break from travels.*** \n\n~\n\n***Amphitrite stepped inside the inn, taking in its cozy and quaint interior. Her eyes observing the many demigods and mortals milling about. From what she was told, she was to meet Thetis in the vast gardens just outside of the inn. Meeting with a nearby worker, the goddess was directed towards said gardens. Stepping out back into the fresh air, Amphitrite began her stroll whilst she waited for her sister. Unlike before, the air held a unique fragrance to it now. The scents of the various flowers mixing in with the smell of the sea from below the hill. She took a deep breath, inhaling the mixed fragrance. A sense of calm washing over her. The sea queen found a nearby bench in the gardens, taking a seat while she awaited Thetis's arrival.***" }, { "author": "+he+iSS", "message": "Thetis sighed as she made her way down the lighthouse steps, moving towards the door to her past that lay below. She had sent everyone off the island the second she had gotten the message from Amphitrite. Her sister. It wasn't that she didn't trust Amphi really, but that husband of hers and his brother? They were not welcomed in her life once more. There was a slight sting of betrayal still, how her sister had married the man who had brought her so much pain and distress, but times were different, what they were allowed to do as women, as sea nymphs. Then there was the fact that Poseidon, for all his faults, was the ruler of their home. It was possible her sister didn't even get to say 'yes' to her marriage, she hadn't. \n.\nThrough the screen door, she could see her. She was slight and tall and gorgeous, just as she always had been, and Thetis' heart lurched. She wanted to run to her and grab her up and hug her like she had as a child, but the air was too tense. The screen door squeaked lightly as she pushed it open and stepped forward onto her porch, eyes adjusting to the sun before she made her way towards Amphi.\n.\nThe Goddess of Water was unsure of what to do, to hug, to stay away, to cry, to keep her distance. It was hard, but she knew what she did or said would set the whole mood of this meeting. After all, there was no sight of Poseidon, and she was sure she would have felt some power on the island if he had followed his wife here. So, with a push of stubborn bravery, Thetis walked right up to her sister, pulling the smaller woman into a tight embrace. \"My dearest sister...\" \n.\nShe pulled back slightly and smiled a genuine smile at the prospect of reuniting and looked her over. \"Beautiful as always. Being Queen suits you as it never did me.\" Her human husband had at least been a King, but still, a human forced upon her. Innkeeper and mother suited her best." }, { "author": "Amphitrite", "message": "***The Queen of Atlantis watched as her sister walked towards her. A pang in her chest at the mere sight. She looked healthy and beautiful as always, the sun casting a glow on her fair skin. She didn't realize how much she missed her until this moment. Amphitrite had long felt the pain of her absence, but she knew why Thetis remained away. Unlike her, she chose to marry Poseidon. She wasn't forced into a marriage by him, not like how her sister was. It wasn't to say Amphitrite was open to marrying the king of the seas. No, she had told him no and ran from him. Hiding out in the seas where he could not possibly find her. Until one day his dolphin had, and convinced her to marry him. Only then did she oblige, and married him finally. But now as she looked at Thetis, she saw true contentment in her. The life she lived now suited her, while Amphitrite remained a queen with a husband who loved her, yet who also betrayed her.*** \n\n***The sea goddess wrapped her arms around her sister tightly, embracing her whole heartedly. She was surprised by the gesture, but she welcomed it. Amphitrite visibly relaxed, it was clear she worried about how Thetis would react to her presence. Of course, she told her of her visit prior to this. Yet, it was a surprise when she accepted the notion. She pulled back from the hug, looking her sister over. Both have changed over the years, yet one thing they had most in common now were their children. Motherhood found them both over the years, and perhaps even forgiveness along the way of it.***\n\n\"Sister, you look so beautiful and carefree. You made a beautiful queen, but this life you have built makes you shine brighter than the stars in the sky.\" ***She smiled lovingly.*** \"We have much to catch up on, you have to tell me where you got this idea. And you have to tell me that you do have a spa, the gods know I need a good spa day considering all that is happening.\" ***She frowned slightly.*** \"Which... I am glad you have kept yourself far away from it all. I missed you greatly, it has been so long since we have seen each other.\" \n\n***Her voice was soft as she spoke, radiating with her complete honesty. Amphitrite did believe her sister was a stunning queen herself, but she couldn't deny that her sister held a different energy to her. Something brighter and full of life. She was almost unsure of what to say or ask, there was too much time they missed spending together. It wouldn't happen again, not as long as they both remained.***" }, { "author": "+he+iSS", "message": "Thetis raised a brow a bit at her sister's flowery words. She wasn't used to it really, humans didn't talk like that but she supposed remaining Queen and at Poseidon's side kept her speaking in old ways. She simply looped her arm through Amphitrite's and moved them both towards the side of the Inn, a small glass structrue on the edge of the cliff boasted plants, lounge chairs, fountains, and smells of herbs in the air. \n.\n\"This is where we have our spa, it's small, we can really only do 3-4 services at once, but really most people who come to visit buy out the whole inn for the privacy, though we get groups of couples who come. You wouldn't *Believe* How much humans have come to appreciate our plants and minerals. You'll never guess what they are doing now... Seaweed wraps!\"\n.\nThetis laughed as she pushed open the door and moved to a small closet filled with fluffy mint green robes and passed one to her sister before she began stripping out of her clothes and placing them on one of the chairs and wrapped herself in the robe. She gently tossed a coin in one of the natural spring fountains that bubbled up from the earth below them and suddenly a woman of water appeared. \"Amphi, this is Amara. She is a River Nymph, been with me for some time. She is also incredibly discreet.\" The woman of water didn't speak and her face had barely any features to it, but she bowed her watery head to them both before noving around and collecting different jars and objects from around the room for facials for the women. \n.\nThetis slid into a plush lounge chair and stared over at Amphitrite. She was unsure how to proceed, but she had always been blunt and honest with her sisters, why would that change now.\n.\n\"I am torn between asking you questions about your life. How is your son, your marriage, your life... And also asking. Why are you here now Amphi? It has been a very long time.\"" } ]

[ { "author": "yourinferior", "message": "Esmeray and Artemis reunite at the Champion's new residency" }, { "author": "Artemis", "message": "She did not want to be here. Posidena was far from her domain, hers was one of dirt and wood and stone, this was one of salt and sand and sea. It wasn't an antithesis of her aspects but in no way did this place welcome her, she was an outsider in every sense as her four hooves clopped across the beach and towards her quarry. The villa was a large splay of white, long and short to remain stalwart in the face of oceanic winds, with a boxy composition that modern architecture adored. It was chic in its uniform paleness, which in the still moonlight of the late night gave the structure a serine ambience. Warm orange hues that poured from its open frame speaking to some life residing within.\n\nWith a leap and a jump Artemis ranged up the stairs towards the sound of life, shuffled movements and breathing catching the huntress' ears, before curtly arriving at the landing. Coming to stop to observe the space, it was a nice home, not in her style or taste of local, but she would never deny the quaintness of the space. Black doe eyes peered in search of her quarry, spotting the muted movement of shadows from within. Quietly the small deer form stalked forward, small hooves somehow silent upon the hard floor, creeping through an open sliding door before coming upon the purpose of her meeting. Esmeray, her Champion and chosen demigod to aid in protecting humanity, stood before her with a trash bag and broom as she sought out cleaning what appeared to Artemis to be the home of a hermit. Beer cans and other discarded trash; wrappers, chip bags, and the like, were strewn about the home in a fashion unbecoming of anyone who ever had company. However the goddess knew Esmeray, and knew whom this house truly belonged to and never suspected the demigod of the mess\n\n\"Esme, darling girl, didn't your mother tell you to pick up after yourself?\"\n \nThe form of the small white doe melted away, collapsing and then rising in a fluid motion til a fully formed woman stood directly behind the unsuspecting Esmeray. Artemis was dressed causally, she nearly always was, a simple fitted grey cropped tank top, a comfy looking flannel with a black and white pattern, beige cream sweats that hung maybe a little too low on her hips for a chastity goddess, and large chunky sneakers that had certainly seen better days. A playful smile hinted at the corner of her large full lips as awaited the girl's reaction, it had been some time since they'd last met and despite the hardships Artemis knew Esmeray must've suffered without her, she was excited to see her again." }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "The emptiness of the home was strange, the lack of Triton or his music playing in the background made the house seem bigger and emptier than it had before. The sounds of the broom as she swept were like tv static against the barren walls, echoing around the room. Esmeray had been cleaning the house and after five trash bags, she was close to her wits end. It had taken three trash bags just to clean up the kitchen and Triton's bedroom alone. The living room was the last room she had left, and the lack of decor had seemed to be a wide open shot for Trition's left over beer cans. \n\n\"I should have denied the house.\" Esmeray spoke out loud to herself, as if her own personal angel and devil sat on her shoulders, speaking back and forth to one another. Speaking to herself had somehow become an often occurrence, leaving her wondering if she was truly going mad. \"But how can you deny the queen of the ocean,\" \n\nA voice that wasn't hers sang in her ears, scaring her. Esmeray jumped, throwing the broom in the air and catching it quickly pointing the end like a makeshift weapon at the shapeshifting figure. The transformation was familiar, the shift from deer to human as fluid and swift as a stream. The red curls of Artemis stood stark against the white of Triton's home, like a gem in the sand. A smile lit her face as she made eye contact with the rambunctious goddess. It was when her heart rate calmed down that she finally processed what was said. \n\n\"One, you were almost pulverized by my broom fighting skills and two, my mother did... Amphitrite teaching Triton on the other hand is debatable.\" She laid the broom against the stiff sandstone couch and reached out to hug the goddess. \"I'm happy to see you.\"\n\nEsmeray's appearance was disheveled, a girl who now held a little more weight on her shoulders. Her long brown hair was tied up in a sloppy bun, small tufts of hair sticking out. Her blue eyes looked bruised from the lack of sleep and her grey sweat pants and black crop top did nothing to help her tiresome look. But despite it she held a smile on her face." }, { "author": "Artemis", "message": "Artemis admittedly wasn't expecting that sort of reaction from Esmeray, her stalwart joy flickering for a moment as her eyes widened at her champions fright. She'd intended to surprise the girl certainly however the meek reaction wasn't what she envisioned. However something about it, conjoined with Esme's quick recovery to wield her broom as a weapon, reminded the goddess of why she'd chosen her. For her softness and the ability to turn it hard when necessary, the pointed end of the broom reassuring the goddess as much as it amused her. \n\n\"Oh no, mercy mercy please o' mighty broom master.\" She kidded, raising her palms up in feigned submission. Staggering green eyes peered at the improvised weapon from beyond a coy knowing smile, the rumble of a laugh coming out beneath her words. Her hands fell as Esmeray discarded her weapon and approached to embrace her, Artemis meeting her with a step and wrapping her arms fully around the shorter girl's form. \"I missed you Esmeray.\" Artemis was a kind goddess, that was undeniable, but rarely did she so openly admit any semblance of affection or positive emotion. \n\nAfter a beat Artemis withdrew from the hug, placing her calloused hands upon Esmeray's shoulders. Holding her in place Artemis observed the girl, the same painted smile wrinkling her cheeks into dimples, however her eyes melted into something other than the pure joy and excitement that had been there previously. She knew her champion to be a warrior, strong willed and capable of enduring the world's turmoil, but Artemis couldn't hide the concern built within at the sight of the girl's appearance. \"I should've returned sooner, I'm here for you now darling.\" She didn't know if her words would help, perhaps it was some selfish urge within her to ease Esmeray's stress, but she hoped they would. If not Artemis truly meant what she said, rarely did she not, she wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.\n||" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "The hug was a welcomed one, between her loving family and her best friend who didn't know what the word affection meant. She hadn't felt a true embrace since she had last seen the goddess and the dehumanizing trauma was slowly turning her spirit into rubble. Artemis pulled away from her hug and examined her; most likely taking into account how exhausted and deranged her champion looked. The lounge clothes were wrinkled and a mystery stain sat on the knee of one pant leg. She grimaced, not wanting to even imagine what it could have been. \n\n\"You have no clue how much I've missed you.\" Esmeray glanced at the goddess. Artemis had not changed at all in the short time span they had been apart. Her golden red ringlet curls showed her wild personality and paired with the bright dark green of her eyes gave a hint of playfulness. The dimples that rested in her cheeks only added to the enchantress. Her human form was beautiful in every way but despite her beauty, Esmeray knew that the goddess was not one to be reckoned with.\n\nEsmeray stepped back and waved her hand around the room. \"Welcome to my new abode, compliments to the goddess of the sea herself.\" Esmeray frowned as she looked at the trash ridden home and then back at Art. \n\n\"Artey, tell me how I get myself into these predicaments and then tell me how to get out of them.\" She dramatically threw herself on the sandstone couch, making sure her head landed on one of the few pillows as she plopped down. Her legs were aching from standing the entire day and she was just on the brink of over exultation due to both using her powers on a **God** And cleaning the entire house from top to bottom." }, { "author": "Artemis", "message": "The ache at the top of her stomach grew as she examined the girl, she'd watched from afar the trials and tribulations Esmeray had underwent. She'd felt her gifts being used, that was admittedly when Artemis paid more attention, so she knew things had been difficult. The ache churned more at the thought, Artemis would take on all the girls struggles if she could, it was much easier for her heart to just do it all herself. A stoic smile appeared on the goddess' face at her champions comment, she needed to be strong for so many reasons and now Esmeray had become another one. \n\n\"Ah, what a... Benevolent gift. Leave you to keep up your half brother's messes. I know not her parenting strategy but I hope Amphitrite straightens the boy out, less he learns the hard way from someone else.\" She'd never personally needed much guidance or correction in her earliest years of existence, she'd been birthed as a fully realized goddess of course but even then she'd always been a bit more mature than her brother. However she simply couldn't see how this home was a gift, it was something likely to be returned in the first place.\n\nArtemis watched as Esmeray plopped herself theatrically upon the stone couch, another piece of furniture she couldn't appreciate, a breath held in as her champion hit the hard surface. \"Oh sweet child,\" Artemis crossed the room to the couch, sneakers silent upon the hard floor, before sitting beside the girls head. \"To be quite frank, the world doesn't give a fuck and it's going to continue throwing bullshit at you for the rest of time.\" She looked down at the girl, green eyes a swirled mess of emotions, worry and woe for the things she'd have to face in the future, regret for not preparing her better and so much more. \"But—\" As she spoke the goddess gently placed a hand on Esmeray's cheek, thumb caressing back and forth in a somewhat motherly fashion, \"You are a strong willed young woman, and most importantly you're smart. Smart enough to decide what to do when the time comes, and compassionate enough to make sure it's the correct decision. Although I might recommend practicing saying no,\" A small laugh rumbled in her stomach, \"You may be a little too kind.\"\n\n||" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "Artemis studied her, the soft motherly tone reminding her of her own mother whom she had lost almost a decade ago. The loss of a loved one never leaves, the small reminders that pop up at the darndest of times. Esmeray tried to dismiss the sadness that rolled in but the exhaustion hindered it. She wanted to tell Artemis everything, tell her about the brother whom had lost mind, the father who she finally met and was exactly like she had expected and the war... The war in which ran the world at this point. \n\nEsmeray shrugged at Artemis' words. The house was the least of her worries and while she was partially grateful for the place to stay she couldn't help think about how she would much rather be with Conner and Jared. Both of them off on their own missions. She didn't let her mind think about Amara, her fear mongering ally whom always known how to press the right buttons. \n\n\"I'm glad you are back though. Its been... Interesting to say the least.\" Artemis crossed the room and sat by her. Esmeray looked up, the vibrancy of her divinity against the bright white walls. \" I know, I know. Especially because of who my father is and the part I've decided to play in all of this. The part **We've** Decided to play.\" They were all considered neutral, not wanting to pick who should be the king of the gods but instead opting for peace. But before peace there had to be violence. \n\nShe rolled her eyes at Artemis' last words. Though she was right coming from a goddess, she wondered if saying no to a goddess was as easy as that. \"If I say no, that is just another god I do not want to anger. I love the sea... But all my life I feel like I have been running from it.\" She grabbed the pillow out from under her head and covered her face with it instead, wanting to scream into it until the world around them came crashing down." }, { "author": "Artemis", "message": "Uncertainty filled the goddess. It had been many moons since she'd last truly sat down and spoken with, well, anyone for that matter but specifically mortals. They were simply yet endlessly complex entities in comparison to immortals such as herself. Their short lives burned brilliantly in a tiny explosion that often went unnoticed in what felt like a blink of an eye to her, their hearts and minds swaying through feelings and ideas that Artemis took years to process. She didn't know what to say to her own champion, to reassure her and give her the tools to live. Artemis thought about the last mortal she'd tried to patron, she didn't want that fate for Esmeray.\n\n\"I'd like to say you'll have plenty of time to catch me up on things but I suspect I'm going to get rather busy. Fates only know how much harm my father and uncle have done in my time away, I need to see it all with my own eyes before deciding what to do.\" She didn't care for this war, the last major war between the gods had almost shattered the old world, ultimately leading to inevitable loss of mortal life and the ruin of civilizations. She didn't care who sat on the throne, she just wished to see her domain flourish and that wasn't possible when the sky and sea were trying rip each other apart.\n\nHer green eyes lingered on Esmeray in her dismay, the helplessness she felt from the girl only piling atop the building sense of responsibility she felt for her champion. \"You mustn't deny your nature Esmeray.\" The goddess paused, her hands coming together in subtle tell of unease as her fingers clinging for their counterparts. \"The sea is apart of you, just as much as you are apart of it. Trust me child, I know how hard it is to accept a father so terrible but denying them is the same as denying half of yourself. They define our pasts but it is you who will define your future, so you must take action to make it one you'll be proud of. We must be better than our fathers, if not for ourselves then for those around us who depend on it.\" She wasn't one for words and she wasn't sure if hers would reach Esmeray but she hoped the other would understand what she meant." }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "Esmeray sat up, resting against her elbows as she looked at the goddess. The pillow fell off of her and to the ground. She did have a lot to tell her, not just about Triton and his insubordination but about her father and the plans the champions had next. Artemis was what Esmeray assumed mortals called a gypsy soul. A goddess who could never be pinned down even when war called for her no matter how much she tried to ignore it. She sat up completely, all playfulness from the warm welcome stripped away. \n\n\"They destroyed the sanctum, Art. I'm not sure if it was your father or mine but so many people are dead. Innocent people who were just seeking safety from this war. Children. \" Esmeray's jaw clenched in anger and her hands fell into her lap. \"If the sea is a part of me how can I prevent it from overtaking the other half? The half that cares and loves people that will ultimately die. How do I accept that part and not become my father when I watch as he destroys everything that the other half of me loves and lives for?\" \n\nEsmeray looked out the window, the sea staring back at her as if it were listening to her every word. A subtle breeze wafting through and caressing both of them. \"I need to know more, do more. I understand the need for power now.\" A small painful chuckle escaped her lips. \"Though, I believe my reasoning for wanting it is cultivated by different roots.\" She looked up at Artemis again, the soft sense of sadness coated in her green eyes. \n\n\"We need to do more. I need to do more.\"" }, { "author": "Artemis", "message": "If it had been a millennia ago Artemis would've flown into a rage at the Esmeray's words. The death of innocents and children was an unacceptable transgression in her eyes, she'd slaughtered mortals for less. But the transgressors now weren't mortals, they were gods and very could be direct family. It took every ounce of control in her not to take up her bow then and there to go storm Olympus. For now, she told herself, she'd wait and temper her rage. Mold her fury into an arrow that would devastate her enemies when the time was right.\n\n\"I don't know.\" Artemis wished she did, for as much guidance as she could offer her champion there were things beyond her. Esmeray's plight was her own and only she could walk that journey, \"You have too little faith in yourself child. Your heart is strong and though it may waver at times, you must listen to it and not be overcome by the sea.\" \n\nShe gazed at her champion, how feeble and weak she seemed in that moment. It was disheartening, Artemis knew that she'd thrust so much responsibility and future anguish onto this girl by championing her but it was a necessary evil she'd tell herself. \"Never stop loving dear, it was what makes you weak and vulnerable yes but it'll also give you the strength and courage to do what must be done.\"\n\nAt the mention of power Artemis stood, her long legs taking her a few steps away from stone sofa. \"I've noticed you've yet to call upon all my gifts. I didn't bestow you them without reason, they are powerful enough to give the edge you'll need if you have any hope of protecting the things you love.\" Artemis' peered beyond the room, out the same window as Esmeray, her eyes landing upon the sea outside. Her mind wandered towards plans of vengeance and violence upon her uncle and father. \"There will also be a challenge to do more, however you need not face it alone. Call upon your allies and you'll manage to surmount any odds, and if you truly must call upon me. I'll come to aid if you require it.\"\n\n||" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "The words spoken lingered in the room like a heavy fog. Words of war, of family and of the troubles that were not near as evident. Esmeray was appreciative of Artemis and everything she had done and continued doing for her. More family to her than her real family ever was or ever could be. She smiled faintly. Artemis was right, and she wasn't sure if it was a good thing or not. \n\n\"I just feel like I could never do enough. I am not sure anyone will get through to them and I am not sure how we are going to ever play offense when all we ever do is defend.\" She straightened her shoulders. Her worries showed the comfort she found in the goddess, relinquishing feelings she was so used to keeping hidden and safe. The strength and determination had always been a barrier for the fears and insecurities. Now, on full display. Esmeray closed her eyes letting the walls slowly go back up. \"But you are right, unfortunately.\" \n\nEsmeray stood and took a deep breath. She needed to stop feeling sorry for herself. She was blessed despite the difficulties that they faced. She had work to do, people to recruit and lives to save. Because of Artemis she was able to do that more than most.\n\n\"I've used them only briefly. I just don't want to use them and exhaust both of us. I need to find out what my boundaries are, what our boundaries are and learn from them.\" She looked up at the tall gorgeous goddess, the stubborn determination that resided in her eyes slowly pierced into Esmeray like a candle to a match. \"I need you to not leave me for months on end again so that we can figure this out... Together.\" Esmeray crossed her arms, shooting an accusatory look \nIn her direction. \n\nShe ignored the talk of allies, for now. Knowing that Artemis would be there if she called on her was comforting but it didn't help the pit in her stomach. The gods and goddess that chose Athena's side had so much power and authority, a chance to do more than stand and watch as if everything would find peace on its own. She knew Artemis had her own reasons for not joining the battle but she found herself wishing that she would change her mind and follow her own advice." }, { "author": "Artemis", "message": "Esmeray was only half a god. Artemis needed reminding of that from time to time, her champion's words and woes did just that. She was an entity born from humanity and divinity, the aspects of each having their individual moments to shine. Here, now, in the confines of the bleached sandstone walls of Triton's abode Artemis witnessed the unprompted kindness of humans within Esmeray. Gods were fickle animals by nature, they needed worship and praise before they bestowed any semblance of kindness upon others but humans, humans were more than them in that regard.\n\n\"I grow tired of Athena's schemes as well. She sees this war as a grand game of chess, I don't think she cares for the stories and lives of the pieces she plays.\" She meant no disrespect towards her half sister, she was a goddess of tactics and cleverness, it wasn't expected of her to empathize with the troops and people under her command. It was that coolness that made her such an effective planner and leader in times such as these but it left Artemis wanting. \"But we mustn't lose faith. Wars are great, big ugly things that I've known to last lifetimes. This one could last multiple given the stakes at risk for all sides.\"\n\nArtemis' gaze remained unfocused on the world outside, emerald green hues shimmering with refracted light that spilled into the room. Even then in her unguarded state of relaxation she was a tense thing, a rigid mass of lean muscle waiting for a moment to explode. The cloud of a troubled expression disappearing from her face with a blink, turning her face towards Esmeray once more. Her features lifting at the edges with a calm smile as she observed her champion, all previous fears and insecurities that had built being vanquished by the reality of duty and what the pair would have to do. \"You're going to have to learn quickly then, my dear. Dark storms brew on the horizon and war waits for no woman. Don't worry so much about me and practice til your legs give out, then get up and practice so\n\nMe more.\"\n\nShe took a step towards Esmeray, pausing an arms length away to look down at the muted girl. She was disheveled mess who was too kind for her own good, and Artemis thought she was the perfect person to be her champion. \"I can't promise you I won't have to leave again, this world is vast and this conflict stirs trouble across it all. Most of the gods can't see past this city, leaving it to only a few of us to handle all the BS that builds up. I will swear to you though, I'll never leave you forever.\" At this she reached out her arm, extending it between them for Esmeray to grab. It was exactly as she'd done when she'd made Esmeray her champion. \"We will beat this.. Together.\"" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "*Practice til your legs give out then get up and practice some more.* Esmeray had sat through many training sessions for herself, garnering what her body could do without the abilities given to her by Artemis but as she thought about it now she nodded. She had to treat Artemis and her gifts as an extension of herself. Had to learn on her own the boundaries in which they could reach as well as together. It wasn't a hard reality to come to but she had hoped for a little more inclusivity. \n\n\"I'll do exactly that.\" She briefly looked out the same window at the dark and rapacious sea. The parts of her needed to learn how to blend together and she needed to learn what she was capable of. Artemis put her arm out for her to take, the wisdom in which she spoke echoing in her mind. The familiar gesture that made her smile as she looped her arm with hers. \n\nShe found the promise of never leaving her was a hard feat to surpass, even despite the goddesses divinity. The gala had shown many of them that even gods were not subject to eternity. She shook the thought from her mind, the brief image of Persephone and looked up at Artemis. Artemis could handle herself but Esmeray held a promise to protect her as much as she could as well. \n\n\"Together.\" It was a promise." } ]

[ { "author": "kenneth.greygullhaven", "message": "C.J. And Avalon meet after the gala" }, { "author": "C.J. O'Connor", "message": "C.J. Was not having a good time of this. That was the understatement of the decade really. The weight of his past, heavy and unrelenting, hung over his shoulders like a cloak. He felt suffocated by the secrets he had kept buried for so long. And then, like a bolt of lightning, came the revelation that he was not just an ordinary mortal, but the son of a god. It was a truth that turned his world upside down and left him feeling untethered and lost. \n\nThe realization that he was now connected to Triton, one of the most powerful gods in Greek mythology, only added to his overwhelming sense of disbelief and confusion. C.J.'s mind raced with thoughts and questions, threatening to burst at the seams from the sudden onslaught of information. All he could do was hold on tight and try to make sense of this new reality thrust upon him.\n\nBut then there had been the gala, the gods-damned gala. He closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the physical pain of reliving the images. The sun's heat beat down on his face, a stark contrast to the chill that seeped into his bones at the mere thought of that night. It was like a never-ending nightmare, playing on an endless reel in his mind. He longed for it to stop, but couldn't find a way to make it end. \n\nHe desperately tried to banish the vivid images that replayed in his mind like a broken record since he had woken up. Each scene felt like a stab to his heart, a reminder of the nightmare he couldn't escape. The weight of it all was suffocating.\n\nDespite the pain still coursing through his body that morning, C.J. Forced himself out of bed and pushed through the front door, driven by an unrelenting urge to reach the beach. The ocean has always called to him, but now he understands why- he is the son of an Ocean God and championed by one of the Lords of the Sea. With every step towards the shore, he feels his connection to the waves and salt and sand grow stronger, a primal force pulling him in.\n\nAs he made his way gingerly down the path to the water's edge, C.J, was reminded that this was the only place his heart had ever felt peace. The only place he ever felt at home. The waves had always called to him and now it was a stronger pull than he had ever felt before.\n\nWith a heavy heart and a full mind, C.J. Stood at the edge of the beach, his pants rolled up past his knees as he waded into the gentle waves. The salty sea air enveloped him in a warm embrace, and the sound of crashing waves filled his ears. No matter what trials and tribulations life brought his way, the ocean remained a steadfast companion. Its rhythmic ebb and flow brought comfort to his soul. And in this moment, C.J. Clung to that familiarity more than ever before as he faced the challenges ahead.\n\nDespite his broken body and shattered mind, C.J. Felt a sense of relief wash over him as his bare feet sunk into the warm sand and the cool water kissed his toes. The rhythmic sound of the waves crashing against the shore drowned out the haunting echoes of gunfire that still reverberated in his head. The sun's rays warmed his skin, replacing the icy grip of death that seemed to linger around him. \n\nAs he waded further into the refreshing water, its healing powers seemed to begin washing away the residual aches and pains from his body. In this moment, C.J. Was able to lose himself completely and find at least some solace in the soothing embrace of waves, allowing his mind, body, and soul to finally find some peace.\n\n||" }, { "author": "Avalon Pierce", "message": "How does one cope when their entire world is turned upside down in just two weeks?\n\nAvalon Pierce was someone who rarely ever allowed anything to shake her to the core, whether it was failures, losses, or things that would border traumatic experiences. Scratch that - she rarely ever had traumatic experiences until she stepped foot in Olympian. However, her first day in the city changed everything: a chance encounter with a stranger claiming godhood, the revelation of her own demigod status, and witnessing a surreal transformation into a goat left her questioning her sanity.\n\nInitially, she could have dismissed it all as a bizarre hallucination, a bad trip to be forgotten with time. Then came a mysterious text from someone named Hermes, inviting her to a gala to discuss everything Pan had revealed. Against her better judgment, she attended, only for the event to be ambushed, bombed, and for the full extent of the gods' powers to be revealed. Witnessing death and chaos pushed her over the edge, leading to her first full meltdown when she found herself safe but alone.\n\nShe didn't leave her room for three days, even worrying the greedy hostel owner. On the fourth day, she ventured out, seeking solace by the ocean. The feel of the grainy sand under her bare feet, the taste of salt carried by the wind, and the comforting scent of the sea enveloped her, offering a sense of home. As she approached the water, her tense muscles began to relax, the crashing waves almost drowning out the cacophony of thoughts about the Gala disaster that plagued her whenever she closed her eyes. The memory of the dead bartender, the suffocating helplessness, all threatened to overwhelm her... \n_ _\n\nShe opened her eyes, taking in the beautiful sight the horizon had to offer. No matter where she was, she always made sure to be somewhere close to the water. While she rarely found herself in any sort of worry, it always had a way of grounding her. She didn't know why nor had she ever questioned it. But even today, the ocean wasn't enough to settle her. A constant squeezing sensation in her chest had plagued her since the night of the attack, at times leaving her gasping for air for no apparent reason. It was a discomfort that refused to be ignored, adding to her fear and anger.\n\nShe felt scared, but more than that, she felt angry. Angry at how quickly everything she thought she knew about herself and the world had been stripped away. What was she and why was it so important to these people? What was her role in this apparent war, and why was it so crucial? She had no answers, and the uncertainty only made things worse. Frustration boiled within her, fueled by the unanswered questions that tormented her, causing her to bite her lip. \n\nEventually, she couldn't contain it any longer. Sucking in a breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and let out a scream that had been building inside her. It was a scream of resentment for the situation she found herself in, a fear that her time in this world was up, and a desperate plea to understand who or what she truly was.\n\nHer scream echoed across the empty beach, a raw expression of her inner turmoil. It was held out until she ran out of air and was forced to catch her breath, her free hand that wasn't carrying her sandals coming to brush her brown locks away from her face as she tilted her head back. It felt good to let it out for once and not hold it in. But from her peripheral, she caught the sight of a figure - a man who was in the water and she instantly felt a pang of embarrassment. *Fuck*, what was with her and others finding her in these awkward, vulnerable states? \n_ _\n\nSo, she did the only thing she thought would alleviate the situation with the total stranger. She raised her hand, gave a wave, and forced a laugh in an attempt to brush off the awkwardness. \"I didn't see you there, just... Uh, ignore this, will you?\" She could practically cringe. Good going, Avalon." }, { "author": "C.J. O'Connor", "message": "C.J. Was lost in his thoughts, a thousand miles away from the present, when Avalon's piercing scream shattered the peaceful sounds of the beach. His head jerked up, eyes wide with alarm as he searched for the source of the sound. A frown creased his forehead and his stomach twisted with unease. Memories of a similar scream, one that had emerged from his own lips during the gala, flooded his mind. The crashing waves seemed to grow louder as he strained to listen for any other signs of danger.\n\nBut as his eyes locked onto her, he recognized the familiar signs of distress. Her shoulders were hunched and her face was etched with worry lines. He remembered feeling the same way just two days ago. Instead of an immediate sense of concern, empathy stirred within him - a powerful reminder that he was not alone in this newly discovered world of chaos and confusion. The air around them seemed to vibrate with the shared emotions of fear and uncertainty, a constant reminder that they were all struggling to survive in this new reality.\n\nHe gave her a small smile and a shrug as if to say, 'don't worry about it.' As he waded further out of the water, C.J. Stopped at ankle-deep water, feeling the pull of the ocean lessening but still potent enough to ground him. \"No worries,\" He managed to say, his voice rusty from disuse as he cleared his throat. \"I've had my fair share of meltdowns since... You know... This.\" He said with a vague hand motion around him. \n\n\"So, I get it.\" He offered her an understanding smile before raising his hand in a half-hearted greeting. \"I'm C.J., by the way,\" He said awkwardly, realizing too late how unusual the entire situation was. \"You were... There... At the gala weren't you?\" He asked, being pretty sure he remembered seeing her there. It would certainly explain her mood and that strange familiarity he saw in her eyes as they stared at each other in that moment.\n\n||" }, { "author": "Avalon Pierce", "message": "The demigod thought about just turning around, walking off to some other part of the beach and completely out of view from the man to save herself any more embarrassment. She was expecting an odd look to be shot her way from judgment, but instead, he smiled. It was small, but it was still a smile. She felt a sense of dread as he waded out of the deeper end of the waters. \"Oh God, he's going to talk.\" She thought to herself. She would have rather forgotten about this, moved on with both their days, and had this one small moment of vulnerability be nothing more than a forgotten memory. \n\nInstead, he seemed to share the sentiments, as if he understood the reasoning behind her scream without her having said anything. Selfishly, she had thought she was the only one out there facing this sort of dilemma. The idea of demigods, the Gods, and whatever else may be out there was still so foreign and her only interactions had been with the Gods so far. Every one left nothing more than a bitter taste on her tongue and a sprinkle of mental turmoil. \"I don't know if I'd call this a meltdown. More like a form of stress relief.\" No, she had been in one long, stretched-out meltdown ever since the Gala. \n\nWhen he introduced himself, she rested her hand to rest at her elbow. \"Avalon.\" She replied. It was clear she wasn't from here from her British accent. \"I don't usually do this, just so you know. It just sort of... Happened?\" She sounded unsure herself but what kind of burst outburst like that was ever planned? However, when he seemed to have a look of realization come across his face and mentioned the Gala, her heart sunk to her stomach, and her complexion paled. \"You... Were there?\" Her voice trailed off, memories of that night shrouded in a haunting blur, with only a few faces lingering, most hauntingly lifeless.\n_ _\n\nJust as he saw the look of familiarity in her eyes, she recognized the same in his. She forced herself out of the discomfort of the memories and rolled her shoulders back, \"Are you one of them?\" She asked, her tone tinged with contempt. \"Because frankly, I'm sick of coming across Gods.\". Though she didn't feel the same pressure she felt whenever she was around the immortals, she could tell instinctively he wasn't human either and that fact made her hesitate." }, { "author": "C.J. O'Connor", "message": "\"Me? A god?\" C.J. Almost laughed at the idea. But he gave an apologetic look and simply shook his head. \"Demigod... Though not much of one I am afraid. Couldn't even get myself out of the gala without a fuss.\" Here he lifted the edge of his shirt up slightly showing the still bandaged ribs. \"What kind of demigod gets shot and nearly killed by a bunch of mortals right?\" He said, the self- loathing and aggravation evident in his voice.\n\n\"But to answer your question no, I'm not one of them...\" C.J. Said, referring to the gods and goddesses responsible for their predicament. \"I'm in the same boat as you, Avalon. Literally just trying to make sense of this entire mess.\" His tone was light but his eyes betrayed the turmoil and confusion raging inside him. The words tumbled from C.J.'s lips like a weight being lifted, his voice tinged with a hint of disbelief. \n\n\"I only found out recently that I was even a demigod,\" He confessed, his normally light Irish twang replaced with something more somber. \"My mother never spoke much of my father, only that he went by the name Glaucus.\" He paused, a wry smile crossing his face. \"Always thought it odd that he took the name of an old ocean god as his nickname...\" As he spoke, C.J.'s Irish accent thickened and his eyes turned darker, reflecting the shift in his mood. \"If only I had known the truth back then,\" He murmured, regret lacing his words like a bitter aftertaste.\n\nC.J. Let out a heavy sigh as he looked down at the crystal-clear water gently lapping at his bare legs. \n\nThe sun's rays danced on the surface, casting a dazzling display of light and shadow. He bent over and picked up one of the shells that had been washed up against his toes by the playful waves. Holding it in his hands, he marveled at the smooth, polished surface, admiring the intricate patterns and streaks of vivid colors that adorned its exterior.\n\n\"I've always felt a connection to the water... The ocean especially. I never knew why or what it meant. My father left his mark on me it seemed, if it fates have it that we likely will never cross paths.\" C.J. Shook his head. \"He left me with a longing for the sea and evidently some sort of block that kept my demigod abilities, such as they are, hidden util recently. So I've spent my entire life, thinking I was just an awkward unlikable guy... And now... Well, I am sure you understand better than most what it's like adjusting to al this\" He said with a wave around.\n\n||" }, { "author": "Avalon Pierce", "message": "Demigod; A term she was still getting used to hearing. She had done her own Google searches in an attempt to answer questions that were left bouncing in her mind. She read through the summarized version of some epics. Heracles. Aeneas, Narcissus, Perseus, Theseus... These were tales they would learn in world history or some sort of Greek Mythology course in Uni, but to think that there was now the reality that all of these people could have been real and all the epics to be true had sent her reeling. And to make it all worse, she was one of them.\n\nHer shoulders relaxed some at the confirmation. She almost wanted to scoff when he said they were in the same boat. They were both demigods and yes, they survived the Gala massacre, but could they truly be in a similar predicament? It wasn't until she got confirmation that her eyes widened some. \"You too?\" She blurted out after hearing him say he recently found out about his nature. \"I found out two weeks ago, about all of this.\" She said, waving her hand aimlessly about the truth. A laugh of incredulity pushed from her lips, \"I honestly thought I was going mad. One day you're excited to visit a new city and the next, you have some... Some Goat-Man telling you about some bloody war and that he is a god.\" \n\nAvalon had been holding it all in within her and this had been the first time she was able to say it out loud without sounding like she needed to be admitted into a mental institution. Then, something dawned on her as he talked about his parental lineage. She had been so focused on the overarching facts that she hadn't given much thought to *Who* Could be her parent. She walked closer to the shore, the warm water licking her toes. \"I don't even know which God is my parent. God, that sounds ridiculous when you say it out loud...\" \n_ _\n\nShe looked over at him, her eyes looking at the shell he held in his hands. \"Abilities?\" She questioned. It was becoming evident that the women only knew a little about what they were outside of title. She knew she had a few passions of her own. Horse riding, for one. It was her life for so long before traveling became her second love. Did any of it have to do with her Godly parent? How much more of her lineage affected and controlled her than she thought? Her eyes seemed to soften in understanding. \n\n\"I don't know anything and it's been making me feel like nothing makes sense anymore.\" She confessed. \"I've always been someone who just knew what to do no matter the situation but this,\" She motioned between them. \"I don't know what any of this means. I don't even know where to start.\" Her gaze finally settled on his face, \"Can you tell me what you know about us?\"" }, { "author": "C.J. O'Connor", "message": "C.J. Gave a small, understanding nod. It was a lot to try and figure out and even though he had known about being a demigod longer than her, he was not much more versed in the whole deity thing than Aurora was. He gave a small nod towards one of the rocks jutting out into the water nearby and started walking towards it. \"Let's sit. It'll be more comfortable than standing. Tide's going out so we don't have to worry about getting stranded or anything.\"\n\nC.J. Was silent as he walked until they got to the rocks and he sat down. The rocks were warm form the sun but the breeze and ocean spray were cool and refreshing. Once Aurora had joined him he looked out over the ocean and sighed softly. \"I guess looking back at things, I should have known something was different about me. I wasnt every the biggest or strongest kid but despite being on the scrawny side I was never really sick all that much. Kids who looked much healthier than me were always coming down with something while I seemed to be immune to every bug that went through our school. Seemed to be almost invincible.\"\n\nC.J. Paused as he picked up a piece of coral that had been washed up on the rocks and tossed it back into the sea. \"That is until... The accident. I guess even then I should have figured something was different about me, since everyone said I was luck to have survived at all. Evidently even my father's mark and my being a demigod couldn't save me from being crumpled in a car that looked liked a crushed soda can more than a sportscar at the end of it all. That was nearly five years ago now, still not gotten over all that. So as far as what being a demigod means, what we are supposed to do with this, I don't know. I still feel as lost and confused as I ever have.\"\n\nC.J. Wasnt harsh or cold, just speaking honestly. He could tell Aurora about his own experience and discovery but he knew barely anything himself about the world they had found themselves drowning in. What parts of his past really impacted where he was now or what had happened to him over the years he couldn't say. \"I might be a demigod but the truth is I still feel as scared and lost as I did the day I woke up alone in that hospital bed. I was told I had been lucky to survive. And ight now, it feels like someone's telling me this time i just might not survive this.\" He gave Aurora a small sympathetic smile and shrug not knowing how to even begin putting a positive spin on any of this.\n\n||" }, { "author": "Avalon Pierce", "message": "\"If that happens, I happen to be pretty good with directions.\" The first lighthearted comment she found herself making in what seemed like a while. Following him towards the rocks, she found herself sighing as she sat next to him, leaving a comfortable amount of space between them. She dropped her shoes in between them and brought both legs up so she was sat criss-crossed, her hand coming to rest in the space between them. \n\nAvalon turned her head to look at him as he talked, sharing his own experiences so far. In some way, she could relate. She always had top-notch health, though her parents had always said that it was a blessing. The more he spoke, about surviving a dangerous situation like his accident, she found herself sucking in a short breath at imagining such a scene. That sounded *Awful*, yet his survival was a more crazy outcome. \n\nEven with some similarities, there weren't any definite answers he could give her, and that made her feel somewhat deflated. It was wrong for her to assume he had all the answers, but knowing someone else was just as confused and lost as she was gave her a sense of camaraderie. She turned to the ocean, inhaling through her nose before exhaling. \"I'm adopted.\" She started. \"I never knew who my biological parents were, but I didn't really care to know all that much. My parents did a pretty good job at always making me feel no different than a bio-kid, even if the difference was obvious. I never got sick, I always got good marks in school, and I was athletic and stronger than most around me - even the boys above my year. And I always knew, someway, that it wasn't normal but I didn't want to question it. After all, it leads to my success. It made me an Olympian - which now sounds fucking ironic.\" She scoffed.\n_ _\n\n\"I've always known what I was. A daughter. A jockey. A friend. But for the first time in my life, I don't know *What* I am, and yeah, like you said, it's terrifying.\" And that alone was pretty tough for someone as confident and fearless as Avalon to admit. \"I have people telling me what I am yet even *I* Don't know what I am.\" She bit her lip as she thought of Pan and those Gods at the Gala. Demigod this, demigod that... It was frustrating. But when his lack of confidence in terms of survival made her stomach turn. \"Because of the war?\" She asked. \"I was told that because of what we are, there would be people, *Things*, out there that will take advantage of that. And to look for something,\" She furrowed her brows as she tried to remember the exact words, \"Somewhere in Athena's sector, someone named Alex? Does that ring any bells?\"" }, { "author": "C.J. O'Connor", "message": "C.J. Thought for a moment, tilting his head slightly as he tried to recall what names he had heard and who he had heard rumors and talk of around town. \"Sorry, Alex isn't ringing any bells\" He said eventually, a somewhat apologetic smile on his face. \"I haven't been able to get out much lately, not since the gala... It's ironic, really.\" He let out a dry laugh, the sound lacking any real humor. \"Being a demigod and I can't even take care of myself. Can't help anyone else either.\" C.J.'s tone was filled with frustration and self-deprecation. \"And now, with this target on my back, it feels like nothing has changed and yet everything is completely different. If that makes any sense at all.\"\n\nC.J. Looked out over the waves as they sent up little sprays of water as they hit the rocks. He really could do with a cold drink right then, a nice, strong, alcoholic drink. But he knew in his heart that seeking refuge in alcohol would only make things worse. He clenched his fists, trying to convince himself of\n\nHe leaned his head back, feeling the warm sun on his face and the tempting sound of the sea as it kept calling to him as it always did. \n\nThe sun beat down on C.J's face as he gazed longingly at the shimmering blue water in the distance. A gentle breeze rustled through his hair, carrying with it the salty scent of the ocean. It had been far too long... And the desire to plunge into the cool depths grew stronger with each passing minute. \"God what I would give to go for a swim right about now. Thinking about it, I don't think I have since I've arrive at Olympian... Which seems like a lifetime ago in some ways.\"\n\nThe weight of everything that had transpired since he discovered his true identity weighed heavily on his mind. The revelations about Triton, the enigmatic figure that had cast a shadow over his life, still remained a mystery. Despite all that had happened, there were still no answers to be found. Like a phantom, Triton had suddenly appeared and then disappeared without warning, leaving him with more questions than before. Time seemed to stretch out in front of him as he grappled with the endless unknowns surrounding his past and his future.\n\n\"Did they tell you what to do whenever you do find your mysterious Alex?\" He asked, pulling his attention to Avalon again\n\n||" }, { "author": "Avalon Pierce", "message": "She shook her head, a faint smile playing on her lips. \"I'll let you in on a secret. Today is my first day out since then.\" If it was any other situation, she would have never admitted that out loud. \"The only reason I left was because I couldn't stop the questions from coming. Because we're demigods, are we always going to be in danger? How many of us are out there? How many Gods?\" She found herself hesitating before the last question, \"Which one is my parent? All of these bouncing in her head felt more suffocating than the four walls of my hotel room so I had to come out. The ocean,\" She nodded her chin towards it, \"It's the one place that always manages to calm me down.\" \n\nWith him not knowing whoever this Alex person was, she found herself nodding as if she were accepting that she wasn't going to get any answers today. \"It was worth a try. I wasn't told much. Just that whoever they are, they would help. Or at least that's the vibe I got from it.\" In a large city like Olympian, how the hell was she going to track down a random person named Alex? There could be a thousand of them for all she knew, one Google search of their name wasn't going to solve the mystery. \"Are you meant to help others?\" She questioned. \n\nInstead of a drink, she was itching for a cigarette and she had smoked all of them out in her room. The sounds of the seagulls and crashing waves filled in any of the empty noise between them. \n_ _\n\nThe mention of a swim made her look at him once more, which made her see the longing look on his face. She stayed quiet for a moment then proceeded to unfold her legs and got herself up from the rock they sat on. They weren't finding any clarity within one another but they gained a sense of understanding that Avalon knew she wouldn't have been able to get from anyone else at the moment. He *Understood* And for better or for worse, they weren't alone in this. \n\n\"We're going for a swim.\" Her tone sounded as if she weren't going to take no for an answer. \"Look, you and I, we don't know anything that's going on. And from what it sounds like, this war or whatever the bloody hell is going on is going to find us one way or another and who knows if another Gala situation is going to happen again. So,\" She held her hand out for him. \"If there's an opportunity to do what you want to do, then you do it because there's no guarantee that we'll get that chance after this.\" \n\nAs grim as it sounded, that was the reality of the situation. There was too much that was still unknown to them and they couldn't predict how each new piece of information would impact them. Her eyes didn't look happy or excited but instead determined, as if she weren't going to allow the dark cloud that was their situation to overshadow what good they could find in the moment." }, { "author": "C.J. O'Connor", "message": "CJ's eyes lit up as a small smile spread across his face, slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth. He reached out with his hand and gently took hers, standing up and gazing out at the shimmering water in front of them. The sunlight danced on the surface of the water, casting a warm glow onto their faces.\n\n\"Okay,\" He said, inhaling deeply. \"You're absolutely right,\" He concurred, his voice filled with determination. \"We must cherish this moment and make the most of what we have here and now.\"\n\nC.J. Nodded his head in agreement, deciding to follow Avalon's lead. As he stood up from the rock they'd been sitting on he started to peel off his shirt. His skin was tanned for someone of Irish heritage, suggesting that he spent a lot of time outside and had managed to find a way to tan and not burn to a crisp. The wild and unkept hair in his head danced in the breeze as the sound and call of the ocean called to him stronger than ever.\n\nHis eyes were shining, his senses drinking in every detail: the salty tang in the air, the sound of seagulls calling out as they dove for fish just beyond the breaking waves, the comforting lull of the waves crashing against their perch, the hot sun warming them with its rays, and the soft touch of the ocean breeze.\n\nC.J. Stopped for a moment, pulling off his shoes and socks, and placing them with his shirt. With a nod to Avalon as he inched closer to the edge of the water, C.J. Gave a small stretch and took a slow deep breath before plunging into the beckoning water. He submerged with a gasp of delight, the cool salty water enveloped him, washing away the lingering fear and doubts in his mind- at least for the time being. \n\nNeither of them knew what their futures held. All they truly had was that moment and C.J. Was glad to have the momentary reprieve. He began swimming further out from the rocks, stopping and looking back and waving for Avalon to join him.\n\n||" }, { "author": "Avalon Pierce", "message": "As he grasped her hand, she effortlessly lifted him from his seated position. \"Atta boy. That's the spirit,\" She encouraged with a smile, guiding them away from the rugged rocks and towards the shimmering water. As they reached the shoreline, she made no fuss about her attire, knowing her shorts and tank top could handle a little wetness. Pausing to ensure he was ready, she returned his nod before stepping into the cool water, its chill a stark contrast to the sun's warmth on their skin.\n\nVenturing further in, she felt a wave of relief wash over her, punctuated by a light, joyous laugh at the gentle rocking of the small waves. Cupping the water in her hands, she splashed it on her face before running her fingers through her brown locks. Tilting her head back, she drew in a deep breath, letting her hands rest at the back of her neck. Glancing over at CJ, she noticed the ocean's calming effect on him as well, a reassuring sign that their impromptu escapade was having the desired effect. \n\n*Good, at least its working.* She thought to herself. \n\nTime seemed to slip away as they stood there, and by the time the sun began its descent, they decided to parted ways. Though she was no closer to finding answers to her questions and the confusion still lingered, the suffocating fear that had gripped her in recent days had loosened its hold, if only slightly. Maybe, *Just maybe*, everything would turn out fine. \n\n`[end scene]`" } ]

[ { "author": "dothefandango", "message": "*Summoned by Ares to the Skyline District, Hermes arrives promptly not knowing who he would be meeting.*" }, { "author": "~. Hermes .~", "message": "One step after the other. His talaria worked overtime as he stormed through the streets of Olympian kicking up a trail of dust as he went. Mortals likely seeing this speed demon as nothing but a freak gust of wind. Hermes was the confident type but even this was a bit too much trust placed in his half-brother for him. He knew Ares, he had saved him from the giants in the past wars and the two had worked together on the Sisyphus case; but he also knew that his half-brother lived for conflict. Ares couldn't help it, it was his nature as a god just like Hermes was impatient and cunning. Thankfully it was that cunning that was working over-time on his trip down these streets to 5361 Skyline District.\n\nThe god of messengers had no clue who he was meeting but could hazard a few guesses. Perhaps Ares had finally seen reason and was looking to turncloak, it would be a good way to get himself into the good graces of their father; but once again, Hermes knew Ares and that seemed unlikely. Perhaps Ares was simply looking to extend the conflict further; there had not been many major battles as of yet, getting the god of messengers to deliver some misinformation or simply a goading message to Zeus would likely cause at least something to occur. Or perhaps, it was the option that Hermes was both excited and fearful for. Perhaps the god of the sea had brokered this deal through an intermediary he knew Hermes would trust; it was a scary thought, he'd be running into danger if that was the case. But maybe he was overthinking it, surely family would outweigh this violence before too long; and Hermes would be the god to broker peace.\n\nHermes preferred that thought.\n\nThe idea that all could be won with just a few words. It made it all simple for him.\n.\n\nMaking sure that he was stopping his journey in an alleyway just a few blocks away from the meeting place; and especially out of mortal view, Hermes came to a screeching halt. Stabbing his talaria's heels into the ground sparks would come up from these disguised winged trainers as he came to a stop. Their wings furled up again hiding into the fabric of the black trainers he was wearing. A hand combed through his wavy hair as he checked his appearance in a puddle. Looking good he thought, grinning to himself with childish excitement.\n\nShifting his head from side to side he cracked his neck whilst adjusting his brown leather aviator jacket. Unzipping the jacket so that the inside of black sheepskin wool was easily visible he pulled his airpod case from an inside pocket taking the earphones from his ears intruding on the quiet silence of the alley with the faint sounds of 'Money Money Money' before the brilliant devices were carefully stored back into his jacket. Hermes made a mental note to thank Apollo again for that gift. To be fair he could go thank him now. He didn't have to go to this meeting. Of course it would be a blow on his word but... Hermes groaned, rolling his eyes as he checked the time on his phone. 7:58 am. It was time. He couldn't go back now.\n\nSighing to himself, Hermes began to walk onto the street blending in with the street of mortals as he made his way to the building that he would be meeting the enemy at. Keeping his confidence and positivity up, Hermes began to quietly hum a song to himself, \"Money, money, money... Must be funny...\" Continuing through the beautiful lyrics of ABBA as he walked up to the door." }, { "author": "Ares", "message": "\"Mr Ares, Sir. Hermes is outside.\"\n\"I'm aware.\" Ares responded from behind a glass desk, leg crossed over his knee, cigar burning in a bronze ashtray in front of him. His leather chair had been spun to stare out the window at those who crumbled underfoot. At the festering masses that clamored for approval and recognition. A disease called mortality. There, keen eyes watched the messenger walk from his alleyway. He stood, picking up the cigar and placing it in his lips, looking to his PA with a small smile. \"Prepare everything for a visitor. No need to hide anything.\"\n\"Yes, sir.\"\n\nThe PA removed himself from the office, and Ares followed, parting ways immediately to take the lift to the ground floor. Stepping inside, he watched himself in the reflection of the mirrored doors. Taking the cigar from his mouth, he placed it in a small steel cylinder and closed it, shoving it in a pocket. A black suit with a red tie and pocket square. A briefcase in his left hand. He never went anywhere without it, after all.\n\nThe doors opened, and he stepped out into the lobby, passing the staff members and the customers alike. Each long stride taking him closer to the entrance, where he now spotted Hermes' approach. Was he... *Singing*? Of course he was. As he got close to the automatic doors, they slid open. Like everything in the building, it did what it was told, and without question. He liked these doors. \n\n\"In a rich mans world, brother.\" He finished the lyric, standing in the entryway and looking him up and down. Was that Orpheus' jacket? It looked like it. He hadn't realised the two had grown close again. Ares chose not to comment on it, instead gesturing for Hermes to follow him as he headed back inside. Through the hallway he'd left and to the lift. Not a word exchanged until they were inside, and the doors were shut. This wasn't a conversation for others ears.\n\n\"Welcome to the Capital. The headquarters of Industry Standard.\" IS for short, Industry Standard was an online-only bank. It facilitated purely digital transactions, which is why it was the perfect vessel for money laundering. It was almost too easy to hide the illegal transactions amongst the legal ones. All taxed. Not a single crumb of evidence left for any nosy mortals. \n\n\"So, brother. It should be of no news to you that I'll be preparing for the way. As will IS. We plan to support the war effort like good patriots of Olympus.\" The doors opened and revealed another featureless hall, this time however, the light above the door told them they were 5 stories below ground. Walking through it, he stopped by a large window that overlooked a factory floor. \n\nOn that floor, the mass amounts of weapons were being packed into incognito crates and boxes by several dozen employees. \"And, our services will be at your disposal. Now, from Zeus' perspective it is wise not to tell Poseidon I plan on selling to your side. Poseidon finds out, the arms stop. But I know you, and your soft heart, so it's also worth noting that if you tell someone you shouldn't, Zeus finds out you prevented his side getting armed. Not only that, but... Well, we need not go there.\"" }, { "author": "~. Hermes .~", "message": "The building was pretty unsuspecting for what Hermes was expecting; but in all fairness, that's what Ares was all about nowadays. Gone were the days when conflict began with whispers spoken into the ears of ambitious men; now all you needed was enough resources pumped into one side. Divisions were all over the mortal world now, it wasn't too difficult to start a war; the real trick was keeping it going, a trick that Ares appeared to have perfected in recent years. Continuing with the lyrics as he approached those front doors Hermes sang to himself, \"Must be funny, in a rich-\" Just as the doors he walked towards slip open revealing his brother finishing the lyric.\n\nHermes grinned a cheerful smile at the pair finishing the lyrics together. Ares looked good, war definitely paid well considering how good that suit looked on the man. The style choices were enough for the young god to contemplate his own choices... Perhaps he should try out wearing suits more? Owning his own fair of auctions and banks definitely warranted it. But after seeing Orpheus dressed in leather; obviously not approaching him, that was too much of a... Whole thing. Orpheus likely wouldn't appreciate the mimicry but Hermes definitely enjoyed his look in leather.\n\nOpening his mouth to begin their conversation with the usual pleasantries that Hermes expected; he was sorely mistaken as the divine messenger was simply gestured inside by a now silent Ares. His mouth hung open for a moment as the god stalled not knowing precisely how to approach his relationship with the god of war. But eventually, he closed it and jogged forwards to follow his brother with hands in jacket pockets. Even if Ares was unwilling for idle conversation; Hermes made the effort, \"How've you been doing?\" The man swiftly asked following with a, \"Business looks good!\" As he looked around at customer and staff alike shooting smiles everywhere he glanced.\n.\n\nIt was likely Ares would not answer but Hermes still spoke giving his idle remarks and questions to fill the gap in silence. It made him uncomfortable that lack of speaking and he was determined to fill it.\n\nFinally they traversed through the lobby and entered into the welcoming arms of the lift. Hermes coughed, clearing his throat as he shifted on his feet in the lift. The nervousness was getting to him, he wasn't used to not knowing why he was called to somewhere; and the whole situation with the god war was definitely a hive for that type of business. \"Nice business, heard a bit about it\" Hermes commented on the mention of IS before giving his unsolicited comments, \"You know I've got plenty of banks in Hermopolis you could have used...\" He mentioned quietly as he put his hands up as if to say that he didn't want to mention it; but he most definitely wanted to. He didn't understand the need for Ares to do his own thing, especially when he was so willing to help. The entire thought of a criminal organisation wanting to use their own system didn't matter to Hermes who just wanted to help out.\n\nAnd then came the Ares bombshell.\n\nOf course he would want to perpetuate this war. Patriots, thats what they would call themselves as all of them were tearing each other apart. Hermes groaned as his positivity immediately declined. A hand went to his brow as he thought what he was hearing over. Why couldn't Ares see further that his own needs? Hermes loved his siblings but the fact that Ares was trying to extort him to continue this mess... It was just short sighted.\n\n\"Right...\" Hermes muttered as he glanced over the weapons being packaged and prepared for war; shaking his head as he attempted to counter with, \"Can't you focus this amount of effort into a different war? You surely understand the devastation this will cause? It will harm you as well brother\".\n.\n\nHermes, attempting to remain calm and collected, pacing his way down the featureless hall; his eyes locked onto the production line as he thought on how to approach this mess he had gotten himself into. Ares really had trapped him. He had read him like a book, locked him in a trap of duty and loyalty. Shaking his head as he walked his way back down towards Ares again he continued to speak, \"And I'm sure you will be providing support still to your master? Poseidon wouldn't be too pleased to hear you were trading arms to our side, you're right. What I can't understand is if that is all you really care about? You want only this? Only war?\". Hermes was dumbfounded, he couldn't deal with this on top of all his extra-curricular efforts of aiding Zeus and attempting to halt the conflict.\n\n\"Surely we can work out something. You're a smart man Ares. Send these weapons to some stupid mortal war elsewhere, leave our business to us\" Hermes pleaded waving his right hand to the weapons and employees past the glass to emphasise his point, \"Don't force me to do something stupid for your own hunger\"." }, { "author": "Ares", "message": "Ares chuckled darkly, looking to his brother and regarding his softhearted response with a raised brow and a tilt of the head. A smile grew, a devilish smirk. How godlike, to request the death of mortals en masse rather than face the risk of warfare themselves. Even attempting to draw out some deep sense of self preservation from the god of war. Yet, ironic. Because though he spoke as a god, and held the narcissistic sensibilities of a god, he grovelled like a serf. He pleaded like a man. That sort of power, that soul-wrenching power that brought gods to his knees, that's what he coveted. That's what he craved more than any war. It had already begun, and he hadn't fired a single shot.\n\n\"Harm me? Hermes, the war progresses with or without us. The fires rage, I do not need to fuel them. I simply decide to be the god who fuels the fire, rather than the god consumed by it.\" \n\nA tranquil gaze as he regarded the death of millions and the deaths of gods alike. What were more corpses? What were more dead gods? Zeus, Poseidon, even the disgustingly neutral Hades had a stake in the battle. All gods, regardless of the neutrality or peace they preach would be affected by the outcome. Battle was inevitable, a byproduct of ego and power that had been brewing for eons. The only way war stopped waging was when a single victor stood atop the pile of bodies built as a temple to their might. Ares did not intend to be among the pile. \n\nHis gaze snapped in an instant, all peace evaporated in burning fury as Hermes questioned him. He took it as a threat, though an implied one, and his hand shot out. \n\nHe grasped Hermes' throat and smashed him through the glass before them, dangling him above the drop to the factory floor, above the mangling machines and the vicious jaws of mechanical cutters and gears.\n\n\"You will remember your place, courier, or you will become the message.\" He growled through gritted teeth. Pondering the frailty of a throat for a minute, considering how much force it would take to snap his spinal column and wrench his head free from his blubbering neck.\n\nFinally, he pulled him back with a back-handed throw down the hallway.\n\n\"The war of gods will go on, their battles will continue, and most of them will die. Don't be a sheep, messenger. Peace was never a word spoke amongst gods.\"" }, { "author": "~. Hermes .~", "message": "Hermes, the normally light-hearted Olympian, regarded the situation as serious as it truly was. Ares was a threat to his goals, hell, he was a threat to his own life with how he worshipped the perpetuation of this war. His deathly serious glare to his brother hopefully conveyed this as Hermes watched the god of war laugh at his attempt to make Ares see reason. What was the deaths of a couple million mortals compared to the death of gods and swathes of the world in their wake? Hermes saw his predicament with a fortunately rare coldness; it was simple maths, the pair were playing with lives with this simple conversation.\n\nAres saw the world with a disappointing smallness to Hermes' openness. He saw the deaths of millions whilst Ares only saw the war as an object to be coveted. Hermes looked down in sadness, he had hoped for better from this meeting, at least some form of civil discussion.\n\nAnd as Hermes spoke he seemed to realise his mistake just as he spoke it; even unintentionally, the god of messengers had threatened the god of war. Now came the reckoning. Hermes had done comments making fun of his brothers before, but this was a veiled threat and Ares had not taken it well. Hermes felt the glass bounce off his divine skin before he understood what was happening. His eyes went wide as he gasped for breath, now held above a churning mass of crushing gears and slashing blades; the machines of war.\n\nHermes' hands swiftly moved to his brother's arms; he was near confident that Ares would not attempt to kill him. This was just a show of force. Something they had done even in their youths. Ares wouldn't kill him. Or would he? The doubt clouded his mind, they were enemies now; his master was against Zeus, he was actively attempting to fuel conflict.\n.\n\nA divine death would only add coal to flame.\n\nA spark of fear came from that fire to Hermes' positive demeanour and as he hung there he held on tightly for his godly life. He would not die, his life was too dear to him. The next moment would find the god saved, albeit bruised as he skidded down the hallway. Coughing the god of traders slowly got to his feet once more, glaring at his brother in a rare sign of hate from the god that quickly faded. Straightening up his jacket from the jostling, Hermes took a careful amount of time to choose his next words. \"My place is by Zeus, our father\" Hermes spat out as he began to close the distance between the pair.\n\n\"You would hope for the deaths of your own kin?\" Hermes questioned with venom as the god rubbed his sore neck; looking into Ares' eyes for any sign that this was not true. \"A sheep would obey orders without question, I agreed to a meeting with an enemy out of hope. I am worse than a sheep, I'm a fool of a god for believing you would want anything but war\" The young god spoke with an audible sigh of disappointment and despair; it had been a long shot to hope for a peaceful Ares.\n\n\"But my place is by Zeus\" Hermes continued with a wave of a hand hoping to dissuade any further attempts at violent persuasion, \"And he would be disappointed to hear he had lost out on more instruments of destruction\". \n.\n\n\"I will take your weapons, in return I only ask for you remember our war against the giants\" Hermes further spoke; a pastime he enjoyed as he attempted to make Ares understand that what he was doing was a massive risk. \"Once I stole you from captivity by giants, this war is that brazen jar held in the hands of the Aloadae. Let me save you from doom again; you will be welcomed back to Olympus with open arms by our father\" Hermes attempted to reason with his brother attempting desperately to call back to times during the Gigantomachy.\n\nBut then he sighed as he knew these attempts were futile. \"But if you do not wish to return I will gladly take your weapons; and I will use them to kill the rebels of Poseidon's lot just as Hippolytus fell\" Hermes spoke with a final, small threat; quickly putting up his hands in surrender as he added to the end, \"But, I do not wish for us to fight. If we have to fight at least let it be somewhere with an audience.\"\n\nA smirk fell across the cunning god's face as he gave a brief shrug finishing up with, \"Just so that someone can sing about my death; I'm sure Orpheus will respect an old friend with that.\"" } ]

[ { "author": "Esmeray", "message": ">>Sadness. Guilt. Anger. Emotions she didn't want to feel but couldn't help let coat her heart as if layers of skin as she gazed upon the destroyed sanctum. Esmeray stood outside, the destruction far greater than she had imagined as she stared at was once the home of the innocent. Home of people who were just seeking safety and harmony from the violence of the very gods and goddesses they once worshipped. She still couldn't understand why. Why they felt as if the mortals were nothing but a playing piece in the game they created, to use as pawns as if they didn't exist for anything other than entertainment. \n\n\nEsmeray looked up at the blown out windows and dark soot along the torched trim. From the outside it looked as if the destruction was minimal but she knew it was one small natural phenomenon from becoming nothing but dust and ash. A shutter from the very ground she could control and it could all collapse, burying evidence of godly participation and histories written amongst the bodies of the victims. A small part of her felt as if it would be better that way, instead of it being on full display for anyone to walk in on.\n\nShe had been warned of the damage beforehand, told not to go because it would only cause heartache. But she had to see for herself. Had to see the carnage caused by the divine. She lifted the black gaiter over her face before ducking beneath the yellow tape that now resided over the door and stepped inside. \n\nThe interior was far worse than she imagined. The steel beams were prominent against the shattered concrete and brick that formed the walls, the heavy coating of dust on all that was left within. Despite the gaiter, the smell of smoke and burnt flesh was still thick in the air. Days that had passed and the rain that had since hovered over the city like a morbid angst had done nothing to dissolve it. They didn't know which god caused this, the destruction an aftermath of fire and smoke was a power like many of the gods. Deities from all\n\n>>sides of the war could hold the award for the most mortal devastation; many she knew who would take the award with pride. \n\nThe idea that it was Poseidon is what truly made her gut twist in embarrassing gloom. But it wouldn't surprise her either. The thought that the god in which she shared blood, could be the cause for such destruction, such desolation was what kept her on the side of the mortals. His power far too great and far too wide to let win in a war with such importance. \n\nEsmeray climbed the stairs with caution, stepping around the remnants of decay that seemed to cover each step. The second floor held the center of life for the sanctuary and where she knew she would find the most carnage. The bodies and bones of those who never would have known what their fate would have been that day. She didn't want to think about who they belonged to, far too many faces crossing her mind. But she knew she had to see it, she knew she needed the anger to fester inside so that she could direct it where it needed to go. So that she may find reason. Esmeray stepped into the room and her eyes fell across the corpses, both big and small, bodies that were unrecognizable. The room itself looked as if a bomb went off, holes in a majority of the floor and walls, tears in the existence of a normal day gone array. She felt as if her lungs constricted, the air leaving them.This is not how things were supposed to be. They were suppose to be happy, healthy, safe... Alive. This was genocide.\n\n>>Ping: \n Notes: I based it off of the ransacked sanctum but changed and altered something's. Hopefully this will work 🫶🏻" }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "Poseidon did not anticipate that he would stand here once more. The ripe burden of death was not so prominent, but the impression of spirits still lingered in gravel and soot. When lives were taken in great numbers, even the underworld must make room. From kindled flesh to sullen bone, from one darkness to the next. If their souls were deemed as kind, they might be spared the torment of suffering. In this life, however, they were met with the simplicity of the world, with its terminal iniquity. The god of the sea eyed the eroded building with little to feel. He had seen worse than this. He had stood in corners of the earth with such excesses of spilt blood that the iron torched his nose. He had seen caskets in the minuscule shape of newborns, he had seen steeples of skulls. To be done at his hand or to be witnessed with apathy, it made no difference.\n⠀\nThe weight of a demigod was slight, yet it could be felt. His own blood, however, drew to him with innate magnetism. Poseidon could sense her, and with the damning occupancy of her humanity, he knew that she would arrive. With a likeness to her father, she wished to see harsh truths with her eyes. The god did not yet know her, but had been made aware of her dedication to the preservation of mortals. He was irked by this, but his children borne from earthly mothers were often grazed with empathy. The blame could have been placed on himself, as his fascination of the lives that humans led was sporadic and fleeting. Poseidon would force the gift of divine motherhood on short–lived paramours and depart like a vessel. He was, in the end, still faithful to his queen. He became desensitized to the blind devotion of lovers that waited for his return.\n⠀\n\nWith such detachment came the indifference to many of his children. Poseidon took soundless steps with his arrival to the opening of the sanctum, yet his mind remained on his daughter. How would she appear, he wondered? Did she bear the hue of his eyes, or his affections for the ocean? Would she resemble the dauntless Alexios, or was her heart welded with softer, tactful things? If she was here, then she must be as resolute as himself. It was a shame that she did not see the world as he did— Poseidon's savagery did not always halt at his bloodline.\n⠀\nIt would not be long before the most sinister of mortals neglected the decay and made a playground out of the building. In more modern times, they seemed to decorate the disregarded things in graffiti. The ash of life would meddle with the ash of cigarettes, and just as all crimes did, it would become forgotten with time. He, too, might forget.\n⠀\nPoseidon could hear tentative footsteps from above. Black boots fell atop embers until they reached the steps that his daughter previously graced. Her shoe–prints were outlined among sheets of dust, and his larger ones trampled hers. He made no effort to conceal the sound of his heels striking the floor, yet he was not so ominous, either. Poseidon came openly, but he could not say that he was without deceit.\n⠀\n\nOnce he caught sight of her, the frigidity of his eyes was tempted to soften. No matter his absence in the lives of his children, Poseidon valued their seldom closeness. The final step creaked with his weight, and it was alarmingly divine, the way that he overlooked bodies to watch her. If there was any uncertainty that it was his rumored child, it was now squandered. Her backside, even the distinct shade of her hair, felt familiar.\n⠀\n\"Alexios was shaken when I met him here, and rightfully so.\" Poseidon, now more present than ever, looked to the bodies with little emotion. \"I am certain that he would not wish the sight of this scene upon any other. From my understanding, he shows nobility to his compeers.\"\n⠀\nThere was no introduction, no acknowledgement of their connection. Not yet. His hands folded in front of him, tainted in translucent blood of the past. Eyes looked to her. Would she address him first? \"You have entered of your own volition, have you not?\"" }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "The world was constantly ablaze, proof residing in the very sanctum in which she stood. The casualties of godly dictatorship were increasing as all sides grew in their numbers. This was just one example of the tactics that some god or goddess had conjured. None of them knew the severity behind their decisions, they just acted without thinking of the repercussions nor did they care. \n\nEsmeray bent down and grabbed a handful of the ash, letting it slowly fall through her fingers as she listened to the soft sound of footsteps that climbed the stairs. The heels of boots clicked against the floor indiscreetly but unhurried. A sense of unease grew in her stomach. She didn't have to guess who it was, knowing the possibility that he would show. Just as he did with Alexios. \n\nThough his arrival was expected, yet telling, the sound of his voice struck her. His words pierced her repeatedly as each of them echoed against the walls. The tone of it showed no form of emotion, neither pleasant nor patronizing. Esmeray turned slowly and pulled the gaiter off her face. She kept her breath steady as her emotions and senses were both overwhelmed. \n \nHe was handsome. His form was strong and heavily built, his demeanor that of someone who commanded respect the moment he entered a room. She wanted to fully study him before speaking, knowing this may or may not be the only time they stood, alone, in each other's presence. The miraculous god that stood before her was exactly that. The embodiment of the sea. The tide breaker. The earth shatterer. \n\n\"He has more compassion for those that are both his equals and subordinates than anyone that deems themself as superior ever could.\" She held her head high as her eyes met his. The greenish-blue hue was almost identical to hers.\n\nShe could feel it. The minuscule amount of hatred she held for the father in which she tried to deny having any feelings towards. Younger Esmeray begged for a relationship or even an acknowledgment from the very man who stood before her now. But he was no father, at least not to her. She fought the urge to look away from him, direct her line of sight to the destruction that was caused by him. She didn't care if it was indirect. His insubordination caused action. \n\n\"My motives reside in the innocence that met a sudden death.\" She moved her hands as if to influence him to look at their surroundings as if he had not been there before. \"I needed to see it for myself.\"" }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "The daughter of the sea met him with a world of affliction in her eyes. He knew strength, and it swayed within her, constraining the vulnerability that came by the sounding of his voice. His tone, deep and decisive, thrummed the building with supremacy. There was purpose on his tongue, ceaselessly putting men to their knees. With her, alone, Poseidon placed hardy reins on his power. He wished to show a slight calm, yet his tranquility was akin to dicey waves. Where he believed he was gentle, he was still violent; Poseidon became desensitized to his harm. There were no restraints that could quiet the density of his divinity, roped over her back like unassailable weights. \n⠀\nThe gaiter was removed, and with it, the truth was uncloaked before him. He had known her by the color of her hair, like shadowed rosewood, a hue or two darker than his own. Her eyes, her hair, the gracious lines of her figure— it was the makeup of her mother, distant from himself. It was as though her soul entwined with her biological design and rejected the prominence of her father. There he stood, with wide shoulders and eyes of lapis, refusing to be dismissed.\n⠀\n\nFurther did he disdain the death that rooted within the floorboards like soil, reflective of her mother. She had been beautiful, as were each of his lovers— in her beauty survived both poise and wisdom, that of which charmed Poseidon. Women that were sewn with the thread of benevolence, those that would cherish him fiercely and weep in his absence. Unbeknownst to him, those tears nourished the flame of indignation in his children; for he stood as the earth–shaker, the deserter, the departed ship that had forsaken them. Salt and foam meshed with her blood, and as she spoke to him, he understood that she could not vanquish him completely. The girl had a fraction of his spine, the stillness of his breath.\n⠀\nIn response, the remnants of a smile graced his face. It twitched and fell gingerly, entertained by the suggestion of her assertion. She kept his stare. If he had not been amused, perhaps he would have forced her to bow. To avert her gaze from the one that she had gone a lifetime without.\n⠀\n\"You speak as if you feel deeply for him.\" He nearly held the tone of a goading father, but their disconnect caused a harsh translation, off–putting and distant. Poseidon stepped to her, dust lifting and loitering the black of his shoe. He did not look away. \"Alexios has acquired the qualities of a righteous leader, yes. The astray and the weak, they resort to men of his caliber.\" A paradoxical remark, dancing between respect and prejudice.\n⠀\n\n\"Nobility, however, does not always save the flock of sheep.\" Poseidon flared his nostrils to the smell of the room. Only then did he look to the contents of it for a second time, lacking the mortal apprehension of death. With her motion, he eyed her hands, eager to know if her palms were calloused with experience. If he squinted, he could see the remnants of a little girl.\n⠀\nIn a far corner of the room, a gray mouse scurried through the ash. It would not take long for the decomposition to attract lesser beings. The shelter was abandoned, and now it remained for the taking.\n⠀\n\"There is not much left to see, child.\" A confirmation— a swift one, spoken with a mere blink of the eye. \"Must you see all things, to know that they are true?\" It was not a question regarding the fate of innocents. His glare, glacial and grating, made that known. Poseidon thought to advance further, but he stood where he was, watching." }, { "author": "Esmeray", "message": "The silence between their words sat on her psyche like a stiff drink on the brink of sending her mind into a haze of bad decisions and heartbreak. The harshness in his tone congruent with a surprising undertone of inconclusivity. Esmeray watched as he analyzed her, studying how stark her appearance matched her mother's, the delicate lines of her face met big round eyes and high cheekbones. She was always told growing up that she was blessed with her mother's looks but where she matched her mother's beauty, she was destitute in her nature. \n\nThe thought that the nature in which she bloomed was formed by sea and stone was inscrutable. A thought that she had wished was fleeting but was as evident as the dregs from destruction in which she stood and the harshness in which she was bred. \n\nEsmeray tried not to move as he stepped forward, the fear that she tried to hold in slowly working against her as her chin slightly dipped. His words were meant to spark something within her. What that was, she had no idea. Too many feelings already involved where they shouldn't. A life running away from hurt, pain, and even love had all been thrown out the window as she stood in front of the man who ignited them from her in the first place. \n\n\"I tend to speak highly of those who earn my loyalties,\" She stepped towards him this time, just the beginning of a game of chess . \"He has followers because he stands against those who do not show any remorse for those who have no one to attest for them. Followers who are sick of inessential death.\" She did not move as his eyes trailed her hands and then the squeak that she could only assume an indication of what the decay would attract.\n\n\"Nobility may not garner the flock but neither will slaying those who have strayed.\" Her jaw tightened in anger. He had the gull to talk like this as they stood in a graveyard, examined the bones and watched as they were carried off by rodents. She felt as if she were walking a tightrope, the balancing act of civility and death. \n\nShe stepped to the side, a bone cracking underneath her weight as he almost whispered the confirmation into the air as if it were nothing. Esmeray bit her bottom lip before she spoke, the sharp pain reminding her of her position, to control her emotions yet again. \n\n\"The lack of what is left is precisely why I came. I didn't need to see to believe but to ignite.\" She tucked the gator into her pocket and took a few steps towards the broken window, turning away from his deafening glare. \"Ignite the fire that had long been dimmed.\"" }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "He could see it, her trembling capitulation— it was as though Poseidon was fastened to her, with an emotive weight that one could not disregard. Her attributes, made intense by a brief remembrance, cautiously hid and revealed with simultaneous intent. There was a tussle of feeling behind her eyes, an innocence in the dipping of her chin, and with ease did he see a woman grappling with a girlhood lost. With a contorted determination did the God of Seas believe that he must have been the chosen source of her every tribulation. A family tree sprouted by mangled roots, melded stubbornly into the earth. With branches that drooped like wearied limbs, furnished in thorns. A tree that would provide no shade, no sugared fruit.\n_ _\nShe could not flit from him, not even from spans apart.\n_ _\nIt was in her willing advancement, however, that he was confounded. Purposefully, Poseidon made his daze known, lifting his brow to her. In vicinity did her features amplify, and he could have known the scent of her if it weren't for their climate of stilled calamity. His daughter spoke further of the unshrinking Alexios, and the tint of his eyes appeared to dim in their mutual values. She kept still, as inert as he was, and in silence did he beckon for her tongue to unravel once again in confession.\n_ _\n\nHer chilled verve, a flame that kindled similarly in his chest, did not please him. \n_ _\n\"When the weak do not have a shield of patronage, they must become it, or shrivel in their timidity. Your chosen leader fights for slain sheep, and in his persistence, bodies multiply at his door. Blood taints the hands, just as it taints his failed benevolence.\"\n_ _\nPoseidon, with a churning vexation, allowed his vocals to ascend and carry. The sanctum's vacancy cradled his overawing resonance with a reiteration that would not dwindle, and by happenstance, the clenching of his jaw mirrored hers. There was a boneyard beneath their heels, crunching quietly in the trail of his almighty inflection. The God interpreted the woman's abroad steps with offense, as if it was only him that could renounce her without notice and consolation.\n_ _\n\"To *Ignite*?\"\n_ _\nHis physique turned, and with a capacity that was beyond the lengths of man, Poseidon's voice bellowed. Where did her momentary gallantry go, as she observed through a grime–embedded window?\n_ _\n\"You would be wise to flatten that flame. If you share my blood, *Child*, I would aspire that you share my instinct.\"\n_ _\nWith a redundant ferocity, he stepped closer to her, marking ownership of the space. No, she could never flee from him. His voice dropped, in an unsettling but articulate murmur. All of him was unearthly; all of him was polluted, desecrated by eons of experience.\n_ _\n\"I have seen masses of bodies so tall that men could make pillars from their bones. I have observed as structures crumbled, and made the tide smother the glory of cities. This is only the onset of a God's prowess.\"\n_ _\n||" } ]

[ { "author": "wingmancan", "message": "Future Safe House for the Champions" }, { "author": "behemoth4306", "message": "Who: Atlas, Alexios\n\nEver-tragic fate snaps two mortal loving gods back to the reality of their worlds." }, { "author": "Atlas", "message": "In the bustling heart of a metropolis, nestled inconspicuously between towering edifices of shimmering glass and sleek steel, there lay a small, unassuming structure composed of weathered bricks and ancient wooden panels. This was Jin Xuan, an enchanting hybrid of a restaurant and antique shop, almost like a Chinese Cracker Barrel, minus the shitty food and overwhelmingly shameless horse aesthetic. \n⠀\nDue to its modest size and unpretentious nature, someone might deem it barely noticeable. In actuality, this establishment was a cherished favorite among both tourists and locals. Its charm didn't necessarily reside in grandeur but in the rich, immersive experience it offered, a hidden gem amidst the urban sprawl.\n⠀\nIn the same realm of judgment, someone might also expect the staff of such a quaint establishment to consist of several regular-sized individuals as opposed to one giant. Well, whoever \"Someone\" Was, would be wrong in that assumption also. Emerging from a doorway with an excessive load of flour bags cradled in his massive arms, a near seven-foot-tall titan moved with surprising agility through the narrow halls.\n⠀\n\nHis towering presence was a stark contrast to the establishment's ancient Chinese aesthetic. None of the uniforms fit his frame and none of the sites carried his size. The titan gently kicked open another door, depositing half the bags of flour inside, before redistributing the remaining sacks evenly between his enormous hands.\n⠀\nWith a casual flip of his overgrown hair to clear his vision, he took a left turn, exiting the U-shaped hallway into the bustling dining area. \" 'Scuse me, 'scuse me,\" The titan muttered about as he deftly navigated between the tables, unknowingly pulling someone's chair slightly out from underneath their table. Atlas was making his way toward the alternate storeroom when he was halted by a diminutive, elderly Chinese man. Ping, Jin Xuan's owner.\n⠀\nRemarkably brave, Ping positioned himself directly in the titan's path, showing no fear of being accidentally trampled. Ping was the epitome of fearlessness. \"No, no! Other one! Go to the other one!\" The elderly man exclaimed, his voice thick with a heavy accent as he gestured emphatically toward the direction the titan had just come from.\n⠀\n\n\"You said put half 'n half over here and there!\" Atlas replied, halting in his tracks and looking down at the old man with a mixture of confusion and mild exasperation.\n⠀\n\"Change of mind, new shipment coming in! Need plenty of room for the rice! Go! Go!\"The old man insisted while weakly pushing Atlas on his leg, his aged voice rising in volume to reach the titan's ears.\n⠀\n\"Alright, alright, I'm goin'!\" Atlas responded, turning on his heel and hauling the giant bags back to the room he had just left. \"Make way for the rice...\" He muttered sarcastically under his breath. \"Pardon me, 'scuse me,\" Atlas repeated to the dining customers as he maneuvered back through the dining area once more. Accidentally pulling another chair from a table when walking past. Contrary to what his imposing appearance might suggest, Atlas wasn't Jin Xuan's only employee because he alone was enough; he was Jin Xuan's only employee because his boss was a notorious cheapskate.\n⠀\nIn Ping's eyes, Atlas was a bodyguard, laborer, janitor and waiter all wrapped up in one. \n⠀\n\nPing refused to hire cooks who didn't share his passion for Chinese cuisine and saw no need for a cashier due to his paranoia of being shorted. Atlas had been there so long that the establishment became like a home to him, its familiar walls and routines providing a sense of belonging that he cherished deeply. Quite literally, he lived on the top floor of the shop and dine, free of charge—an added bonus that Ping pitched in to secure his loyalty.\n⠀\nLittle did Ping know, Atlas cared deeply for him and had no intention of leaving even without the added living space. Ping was like a defenseless, grouchy little grandfather who, in no way, shape, or form, could manage all of this by himself.\n⠀\nSo this was the current state of Atlas, the once-mighty titan. Brought down to earth by the successor of his kind to win the love and affections of mortals, he now worked full-time as the sole employee of a small restaurant. What would Zeus say if he saw him now? Who cares? After all, he was never told precisely HOW he was supposed to win mortal love. As he carefully set the remaining bags of flour into the storeroom, he adjusted them to ensure they wouldn't tip over. Atlas puffed out a large sigh while resting his hands over his hips.\n⠀\n\nA brief moment of silence was abruptly cut short by the growing sound of indistinct chatter, originating from the front. Immediately suspicious of the sudden increase in chatter, Atlas returned to the dining area with a wary look on his face. Soft murmurs of worry grew louder. All of the seats were abandoned as customers crowded around the windows, peering out of them. \"The hell is everybody lookin' at?\" He whispered to himself, stepping toward the front doors.\n⠀\nHeading outside, he was met face to face with the cause of the commotion. About twenty feet away, aligned with the fences forming the entrance, stood a figure just as tall and broad as Atlas himself. The term 'figure' was used loosely, as it had the shape of a man, but features that were distinctly otherworldly. Its skin was a rugged expanse of dark, volcanic rock, each fissure and crevice pulsating with glowing streams of molten lava.\n⠀\nThis searing liquid fire oozed forth, hissing and sizzling as it slid down the body and disintegrated the concrete beneath its feet, leaving a trail of scorched earth in its wake. When Ping, the shop owner, came out and thought it wise to throw a bottle at the figure in defense, Atlas quickly intercepted the projectile and urged the old man back inside as he shouted profanities in Chinese.\n⠀\n\"Hey, no! We're not doing that. You don't just throw things at people. Or- non-people. No, yeah I know, just go back inside. I'll handle it. Stay in here, please.\" He said, pushing Ping inside and closing the door.\n⠀\n\nAfter checking over his shoulder to ensure the figure hadn't advanced, Atlas turned around, cleared his throat, and cautiously approached the entity with a wary expression. \"Sup?! Uhhh... Cool suit! Is this one of those hidden camera prank things? If so, I mean, that's awesome and all, but you're, uh, you're sorta dripping onto the concrete there and it's burning holes into the-\" Atlas was abruptly cut from his speech as he pointed to the ground where the lava sizzled into the concrete.\n⠀\n\"Atlas, son of Lapetus and Clymene, Bearer of Heavens,\" The figure intoned in a deep, brash voice. Although he hadn't heard those last two names in a long time, Atlas wasn't surprised that whatever this being was, it knew about him. It certainly seemed like something from his side of the world.\n⠀\n\"Eyup, 'ts me. Bearer of Heavens, huh? That's new, I think I like that ... Is that like my official titl-\"\n⠀\n\"While you squander your talents in the dwellings of a mortal eatery, a great conflict brews unnoticed. The Ocean and the Land are at war, and you are so preoccupied with menial tasks that you remain oblivious to it.\"\n⠀\n\"What?\" Atlas said, furrowing his brows in concentration. At war? Nobody told him anything about a war.\n ⠀\n\n\"Olympus has descended into the shadows of towering skyscrapers and glowing neon lights, the gods concealed beneath human guises. The spark of this divine strife lies in a power struggle among the deities. Zeus, once the unchallenged ruler of Olympus, now faces rebellion from a faction led by Poseidon, the formidable god of the sea. The mortal realm trembles under the weight of the gods' war, with governments struggling to comprehend the supernatural threat infiltrating their reality.\"\n⠀\n\"Zeus freed you because he feared Poseidon might do so first. He expects that you'll choose his side as a way to repay your freedom. But you know where your true allegiance resides, Atlas. You have grown not only in strength but in wisdom. Here lies an opportunity to rise from the failures of your brethren and reignite the Titanomachy. Exploit their conflict, for an adversary is always most vulnerable when they are preying upon another.\" \n⠀\nAtlas stared, dumbfounded, his eyes occasionally flicking to the floor that continued to melt from the lava seeping from the figure's chest. It was as if it possessed a heart made entirely of molten lava, pulsating with intense heat and fiery energy, yet devoid of any blood vessels to contain or direct the searing flow. Gruff tone, Gaia-esque persuasion, monstrous form—within the first few moments of the figure's speech, Atlas realized who this was. Typhon, titan god of monsters. \n⠀\n\nHe must have found a way to breathe fragments of life into the volcano that he was imprisoned under, forming whatever this was as a result. \n⠀\n\"It's nice to see you too, Ty. Look, I've got a great thing going on here. I know you might not think much of it, but it sure beats deadlifting the heavens for millennia. The Titanomachy was over before it even began, a lost cause. They were pathetic, but you know what that makes us? Even more pathetic, because we lost. Even if I believed there was a chance, what would you have me do? You and I lead my infantry of loyal humans into the underworld and demand everyone's release?\"\n\n\"Whatever you did to make this happen, you wasted your time, buddy. I'm not interested in sovereign disputes anymore. Now, unless you're here to buy something, I'm gonna have to ask you to get lost.\" Atlas said, stepping to the god of monsters in protection of their surroundings.\n\n\"You... You would turn your back on your own kind... For mud sculptures of Prometheus?!\" Typhon roared, his voice reverberating with fury as he launched himself at Atlas. The impact sent Atlas hurtling through the air, crashing into the side of Jin Xuan and demolishing the back wall. He landed amidst the debris in a neighboring building, the force of the collision creating a crater in the floor. Rising from the rubble, the titan god sighed and rolled his neck, the bones cracking loudly in the silence.\n⠀\n\n\"Okay, so that's where this is going,\" Atlas muttered to himself, his voice a mixture of resignation and determination.\n⠀\n\"Animals that we breathe life into, manifestations made to honor us, and you serve them!\" Typhon bellowed, lunging at Atlas once more. The colossal force propelled Atlas through the neighboring apartment complex, tearing through walls and floors, until he emerged on the other side, crashing into a bustling street. \n⠀\n\"I know, right? What kind of idiot doesn't keep doing the same pointless shit over and over again?\" Atlas retorted sarcastically, seizing Typhon by the shoulder and hurling him with all his might. \"Fuck!\" He cursed, examining his hand as it seared from the fiery touch, skin stinging like it had grasped burning coals. Typhon wasn't going to relent, that much was clear. Saying no to a god was like stomping on their pet puppy and spitting on their mother. Likewise, Atlas wasn't prepared to let innocent people bear the brunt of this. It simply wasn't an option.\n⠀\nTheir titanic clash continued unabated and went on for hours. Buildings crumbled and streets fissured under the sheer force of their blows. The once bustling metropolis transformed into a war zone, skyscrapers reduced to twisted metal and shattered glass, while fires raged unchecked through entire blocks. Cars were flung like toys, their metal frames crumpled and smoldering. The ground itself seemed to tremble in fear, quaking beneath the weight of their ferocious conflict.\n⠀\n\nLeaping into the air, Atlas followed Typhon's ascending trajectory, meeting him mid-air with a powerful uppercut that sent the god of monsters soaring higher. Landing atop a nearby building, Atlas launched himself again, intercepting Typhon's descent and propelling him backward with a series of rapid punches. His objective was clear: he had to drive Typhon away from the city. Typhon, realizing this, transformed his form into a deadweight, plummeting towards the buildings below like a meteor.\n⠀\nSeeing the imminent threat, Atlas scanned the ground, calculating where Typhon might land. Directly above a bridge laden with cars. The titan sped to the scene, intercepting Typhon just ten feet before impact, and pulled him into the street before slamming him downward. Ignoring the searing pain in his hands, Atlas rained punches on Typhon, each strike driving them deeper into the earth. \n⠀\n\"A subservient brute, granted freedom, only to serve even lesser beings. You are even more of an idiot now than you were before!\" Typhon taunted. \"You didn't even exist before\" Atlas said in response. As they descended, his body absorbed the rubble around them, growing heavier and more resilient with each punch. It was as if the earth itself was healing him, regenerating his form at the same speed that Atlas could break it.\n⠀\n\nSuddenly, Typhon's lava-filled veins began to glow brightly. He encased Atlas in a molten hold, but Atlas shattered it with a powerful burst of strength, though not quickly enough to avoid the subsequent explosion. The detonation caused a chain reaction, creating a massive ravine beneath the city that swallowed buildings into the abyss below.\n⠀\nAtlas leaped to the surface, straining to push the toppling buildings back from the ravine's edge. He succeeded, but only just before Typhon reemerged, seizing Atlas's face in a burning grip. Atlas groaned in pain before swatting the arm away, breaking it with a resounding snap. Balancing his mounting fury with the need to protect the city was the hardest challenge he had ever faced. Had anyone already died? He couldn't afford to think about that now. Typhon's relentless onslaught demanded his full attention.\n⠀\nThey continued their brutal exchange, each clash leveling structures and causing devastation. Amidst the chaos, Atlas started to notice that Typhon was protecting a particular spot on his body, expending most of his power to regenerate the barriers around it. That must have been his core. As they were shooting over the water again, with a well-timed knee to Typhon's midsection, Atlas sent them plummeting into the depths below. He tore at Typhon's core, severing ligaments that regenerated more slowly each time. As they hit the ocean's surface, Atlas delivered a final, devastating punch to the exposed core.\n⠀\n\nThe explosion sent a torrent of lava into the air, propelling Atlas back to the surface, where he landed heavily in the street, creating another crater.\n⠀\nBreathless and soaked, Atlas stood, his hair matted over his face. He couldn't savor his victory, the fear in the eyes of the onlookers cutting deeper than any wound. Police cars surrounded him, officers aiming their weapons and shouting for him to freeze. Atlas leapt into the air, surveying the destruction and chaos wrought by his battle with Typhon. \n⠀\nHad he done the right thing? Was all of this the result of his pride? It wasn't even the actual god, it was one of his creations. Didn't that mean he could just send another one? Hell, even multiple? \n⠀\nAtlas panted in silence, his eyes locked on the devastation. He didn't feel as though he'd won anything at all . . \n⠀\nMoments following, the titan returned to Jin Xuan where thankfully, nobody was injured. Relief washed over him seeing everyone safe, especially Ping, who greeted him with a mixture of concern and gratitude. Atlas knew well that he would now be pursued by the law and blamed for the destruction. But nothing they could do would make him feel worse than he already did. Though not the path the titans might have wanted for him, Typhon had definitely forced Atlas away from the life he had built. This couldn't happen again. Whatever it took to prevent something like this happening again, he would have to commit to it. \n⠀\n\nAfter leaving Jin Xuan, Atlas went and assisted firefighters and EMTs, lifting debris, moving structures and rescuing victims. The police, knowing they couldn't detain him, reluctantly allowed him to help. Meanwhile, the military were in the process of surrounding the city, but in silence. They viewed Atlas as a threat rather than an ally. To them, he was no savior. To himself, he was no savior. Typhon never would've come here if Atlas wasn't already there . ." }, { "author": "Alexios || Conner Donnelly", "message": "_ _ \n ⚡︎ Characters | Alexios & Atlas\n ⚡︎ Players | Behemoth & Wingman\n ⚡︎ Theme | [Sorrow](\n\n*Boom.*\n\nThunder outside. \n\n*Boom.*\n\nLouder, closer. \n\nConner was going sixty miles per hour in a thirty and slowly accelerating even more once he actually saw the battle in the distance. The news spread fast about two gods fighting each other using downtown as their own personal battleground, and the moment he heard the areas affected, he was jumping in his car to get there as fast as possible. \n\nNot to fight or try to stop the destruction, but because his fiancé, Jessie, worked in the hospital close to the action, and he was worried.\n\nHis foot slammed on the brakes as a flash of lightning struck a tree on the side of the road, setting it aflame. His back straightened in his seat, jaw clenching as he watched the old oak ignite under the vicious flames. A downpour of rain seemingly came out of nowhere to combat the fire, but quickly turned into a storm that had the entire area shaking and quaking under its strength. The battle had shifted and godly powers were at work. \n\nSparks danced around his fingers as static filled the air. Blue eyes searched the sky for a visual on the gods. Just as he spotted the two figures locked in a violent dance, there was another strike of lightning. Another deafening boom too close for comfort. Buildings cracked and crumbled, glass shattered on impact, fires climbed toward the skyline.\n\nA block away, Conner could already see the hospital in ruins. \n\n\"No . . .\" He gasped, and immediately slammed on the accelerator. Tires screeched. Black tracks scarred the streets. Conner slid the car to a stop in front of the hospital and barely put it in park before jumping out. \n\nVictims of the gods' wrath were everywhere - dead, wounded or fleeing for their lives. Some remained to pull out survivors since the battle was moving away from the area, but that still left plenty of danger to work through. \n\nConner snagged a paramedic by the arm and shouted over the commotion. \"Have you seen Jessie?!\"\n\n\"Sh-she was at the nurse's station! But it's—\" \n\nHe didn't wait to hear the rest of the explanation. He rushed toward the first opening he saw - into the main entrance which was somehow still standing while most of the building was crushed. He ran through ankle-deep water, following the familiar path to the nurse's station until his way was blocked by huge pieces of debris. Gritting his teeth, he crouched down to grip the concrete slab with both hands, grunting as he lifted it, straining every muscle in his body to move it aside so he could pass under it. He let it drop behind him as he ran forward, but stopped suddenly when he saw the nurse's station.\n\nThe whole area behind the desk, the place where his fiancé sat for a good chunk of her day, was buried under rubble. He rushed forward to pull rubble off of the pile, digging through with the hope that he would find absolutely no one underneath.\n\nShe got out . . . She had to get out . . . He told himself over and over again until he pulled a large piece of concrete away and uncovered a hand. He froze, heart stopping as he traced the familiar slender fingers all the way to her ring finger where he knew the engagement ring would be - a thin silver band with a modest diamond.\n\n\"Please . . .\" He breathed as he quickly dug through more of the rubble to uncover the rest of her body - limp and lifeless but still beautiful, as if she were just sleeping among the destruction. He knew she was dead before he held her in his arms, tears filling his eyes as he hugged her close. \n\nFirst, the gods had taken his adopted father. But that wasn't enough. The war had to claim the woman he loved.\n\nWas it his fault? Was this the consequence for rejecting his godly blood, for changing his name to hide among mortals so that Zeus would never find him? \n\nOr was it a punishment for not doing enough for his fellow man? For trying to stay out of a growing conflict between beings more powerful than him? \n\nHe reached up and brushed Jessie's hair out of her face, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb before his fist clenched, shaking from the pain that sank into his very bones. He gritted his teeth against crying out before he took a deep breath and stood up, lifting Jessie into his arms to carry her out. Holding her close, he ignored everyone who passed by him, even the ones who asked him if he needed help. His movements were mechanical, each step feeling alien to him as he stared forward, taking her body outside. He only stopped moving when he heard the noise in the distance, and then his blank eyes turned toward the commotion, toward the battle raging on a few blocks away.\n\nEach godly strike was an earthquake that shook the city, crumbled buildings. They fought on without regards to the mortals below them; there was no attempt to hold back, to keep the destruction to a minimum. They fought as if the people below them meant nothing - a terrible pattern both Conner and Jessie had begun to see all too often in the wars between gods. \n\nConner was able to close his eyes to it before, but no longer. His eyes were wide open, forced to look upon his dead fiancé while she was limp in his arms. Forced to choose a side or let this terrible thing happen to other people. Forced to decide right then and there that he could no longer remain in hiding; he needed to do something - something that Jessie had been trying to get him to do for so long. \n\nBut he couldn't focus. Couldn't think beyond his pain. Couldn't see past the tears that finally formed in his eyes. Knees finally going weak, he dropped to his knees, all of his strength forced into his arms so he could cling to Jessie's body. He held her close, sobbing into her, too weak to lift himself back up, let alone her. \n\n*Broken.*\n\nThe tears flowed freely then. \n\n*Broken.*\n\nSuddenly just a shell of a man." }, { "author": "Atlas", "message": "Two and a half weeks later. \n⠀\nA massive red fire truck is firmly lodged into the corner of the old brick building. Its front end has smashed through the wall, creating a jagged, gaping hole surrounded by a pile of red bricks and debris. Its sirens are still flashing. Dust hangs thickly in the air, hidden by the downpour of rain that in a way, ties the whole scene together. The building's walls are cracked and buckling around the truck. Cracks radiate outward from the point of impact, running up the side of the building and splitting the façade. The windows above the crash site are shattered, their glass shards scattered across the sidewalk.\n⠀\nThe structure seems to lean precariously, held up only by the fire truck wedged within it. If it were to back out, the whole building would come tumbling down. A conclusion quickly met by the firefighters and engineers alike after they'd successfully evacuated everyone from the wreckage. Inside, beams and supports are splintered, and the floor is littered with broken furniture and rubble. Outside, the streets are packed with ambulance trucks from neighboring cities. The air is filled with the smell of diesel and dust, and the only sounds, besides the sirens, are the creaking of the building and the murmurs of the first responders. Atlas approached the scene carefully.\n⠀\n\nIt doesn't take long at all for him to put two and two together. Shimmying through the tight-packed collection of hospital vans, the titan walks the pavement slowly, not wanting to startle the first responders. Rightfully, they're startled anyway by his sudden appearance. \"This is an active crash-site, get back, now!\" Demanded one of the firefighters, presumably the chief. \"Heard, totally.\" Atlas responded without adhering to the demands. With his hands raised in the air, he points to the problem at hand, \"Look, I'm gonna go over there and push that truck back over here, so you guys may wanna clear out some space. After that, I'll hold the building up until someone comes along with something big enough to keep it in place.\" He explained. \n⠀\nAtlas' words were said with caution in his tone. Hardly any energy left in his voice. His movement mirrored that cautiousness as he took careful steps towards the firetruck, hands still raised in the air to further emphasize the fact that he truly meant no harm. \"Are we just gonna let him do that?!\" One of the firefighters said to another. \"Do we really have a choice?. . .\" Replied the other. Atlas proceeded towards the scene. The chief firefighter directed everyone to clear the area. Walking around to the other side of the truck, Atlas peeked out at both sides to make sure the path ahead was clear. \n⠀\n⠀\n\nHe took a deep breath and raised his foot against the firetruck before giving it a heavily suppressed kick that sent it backwards into the street. Within a second of its removal, Atlas was already prepared to grab the building before it could plummet. His palms flattened against the busted concrete before he clenched it into a grip, allowing him to hold it up with ease. This granted the firefighters access to a path that was previously obscured. Quickly, the chief sent his men inside to rescue any of the remaining survivors. Atlas didn't say a word. The saviors briefly searched his eyes as they paced by, looking for some kind of trust sign that he wouldn't drop the building on them once they went in. \n⠀\nThe titan didn't care to give them that, he merely continued holding the structure up. As void of motion as an actual pillar. His eyes remained glued to the rubble beneath his feet as his mind continued to drown in dark, dark thoughts." } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "*Shadows mutter, mist replies, and darkness purrs as the light hides...*" }, { "author": "Amara ", "message": "_ _\n❝ ⌜ 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓽, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓻, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓷𝓲𝔁 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼.⎯ ✶⌝ ❞\n_ _\n`Title.` [What a Wonderful World](\n`Setting.` within the chaos of hades' reckoning once more.\n`Characters.` Zosar , Amara.\n_ _\n⋆.˚ ☪︎ ִ ࣪ .𖥔˚.\n_ _\n\nRage. This was all the raven haired storm given flesh felt, as she stared at the pictures upon her walls. Candles flickered in the unforgiving darkness that now smothered the world, and the blood of the undead dried against sun kissed skin. Her hands wrapped around her bruised and battered form, in a vulnerability she had not felt in ages. \n\nHe had followed her. Entered into the threshold that she had kept to herself, untouched from the outer world. The Gods, the Champions, all of her responsibilities, her frenemies she had made for survival's sake. Not one of them had stepped foot in the shrine she had made, to a life that once was. Her mother's face smiling down upon her, arms wrapped around a younger woman who had once been full of hope. Full of a longing for life that had long since died in Deimos' capable hands. \"Fuck!\" \n_ _\n\nGlass broke as a vase was thrown against the wall. What was it that shattered her mind? Why was she bothered that a God she barely knew had seen her secret sanctuary, been within it and lurked the shadows of her most personal possessions? Was it the lack of control? No matter. The rage needed an outlet, and Amara had nowhere else to shatter things that would not leave her regret on the morrow. So her fingers moved to the sword upon the wall. Hands gripping the leather of the hilt, before she descended into the darkness once more. \n\nShe needed to be anywhere, anywhere but here right now. End of the world be damned. She was nothing if not a selfish being, so warped in her hysteria and madness that she felt she could not wait Hades' own tempered rage out. \n_ _\n\nThe Amara that emerged the streets this time was different. She was a beautiful wraith that wielded a sword like a composer wielded a symphony. This Amara was the champion of fear. This was darkness reincarnate, a monster with eyes that shown of the raging sea against the moonlit chaos. \n\nHer limbs screamed as her arms tore at every rabid beast that approached her. Her teeth gritted against her body's pull to rest. Rest. Sleep. It was all the parts of her that had sense wanted in these rage fueled moments, yet she carried on. Sword finding limbs and vital points until she left the street a bread crumb trail to where she was headed. \n\nShe didn't know why she had chosen here. Why him. Not when she refused to admit the friendship they held for so long. Yet here Amara stood before his door, blood dripping from every crevice as her fist pounded against solid frame. A smirk playing across her shadowed face, bruises beginning to form on cheek and eye and blood splattered across in all shades of crimson. She was a horror film reborn, yet her voice was light and full of banter as the door opened to the recognizable face of the owner within. \n\n\"Hey bestie, care for a sleepover?\" \n\nWords spoken in casual manner, before her body collapsed upon the unforgiving floor.\n_ _" }, { "author": "Zosar Mahmoud", "message": "——————————-\n**Tags:** \n**TW:** Blood, gore, insinuated violence.\n**Notes:** This is quite long but my first posts normally are, please do not stress about needed to write as much as me if you do not want.\n**Songs:**\n\n——————————-\n\n*He hardly ever referred to its weathered pages anymore, but the creases embedded like veins across every corner spoke of Zosar's intimacy with the book's cathartic contents. Upon the glass coffee table, it lay open with its spine exposed, the hinge no longer attached to its inlay. Years ago, the dense volume had belonged to his mother; a collection of her favourite poems, translated into Arabic and gifted to her son on his 9th birthday. Wesam had always inspired her only child to wield words not weapons. Yet in her miserable absence, the Demi-God had learned his fingertips, once feeble and ink-stained, now had the power to summon a hurricane.*\n\n*Sometimes, it hardly felt real. The way Zeus had just shown up on his doorstep one day, exposing the Egyptian to a new world and order that spat in the face of everything the mortal ever believed to be true. Zosar exhaled exasperatedly, both elbows balanced atop his knees, hands combing through his unkempt locks as the Champion leaned forward in his chair. There, the man remained for a minute, simply staring at the carpet below. He wondered what his mother would say now, if she knew how much blood he'd spilled since the start of Poseidon's rebellion.*\n\n-\n**\"My candle burns at both ends, it will not last the night;\"** *He recited from memory one of his favourite pieces by Edna St. Vincent Millay,* **\"But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends; it gives a lovely light...\"**\n\n*The Son of Zelus pondered on each whispered word, caressed by the silence of midnight approaching. He chewed on the known extended metaphor and deconstructed it over and over again in his mind. Many believed the four-liner was about living life to the absolute fullest, though Zosar postulated there was a darker undertone that had simply been ignored. Certainly, it wasn't the most complicated poem in his archive, and yet, a part of him always wondered if the scholars had misconstrued the true meaning behind the exclamation point at the end. Perhaps it wasn't supposed to insinuate joy, but rather, suffering.*\n\n-\n*Pursing his lips, the Egyptian decided that he was not going to resolve this conundrum any time soon, and instead, pulled himself up off the couch and ambled towards the kitchen. Flicking the toggle on his kettle, Zosar retrieved a mug out of an overhead cabinet followed by a green-tea bag from the near-empty open box upon the counter. As he waited for the water to boil, the Champion leaned his figure against the edge of the stone benchtop, arms folding across his chest as he began to mentally mull through the list of things he needed to do tomorrow. Just as the steam started to escape from the kettle's spout, a rapping at the door caused the Demi-God's hazel gaze to cut across the room. Immediately, his frame grew rigid, his posture straightening as the Mortal tried to think who would be calling at this hour of the night. Naturally, the man's paranoia did not help the situation, and as his heart began to thrum in his chest, Zosar moved like a cat back through the living room, and towards his front door.*\n\n*Tentatively, the Egyptian unlatched each of the four bolted locks, and as the door creaked open, he could hardly believe who was standing before him. Amara. Upon realising who it was, Zosar's wariness turned to genuine concern as he swung the door wide open and allowed the shadowy figure to enter his abode without question. She looked like shit, and that was putting it mildly. Her face was a hundred shades of purple and blue, skin split by countless cuts and abrasions that bled crimson down her neck. He barely had a chance to jokingly query what the other guy looked like, before the Champion of Deimos collapsed onto his lounge room's floor.*\n\n-\n**\"For fuck's sake, woman! Not on my new carpet.\"**\n\n*It may have seemed casually cruel and heartless to mention such superficial things, but that was the sort of relationship the pair had shared for as long as they'd known each other. Sarcastic, witty, unyielding. Few were as stupidly headstrong and hellbent on killing themselves as Amara was, and though Zosar never liked seeing her in such a state; it was hardly uncommon. After rapidly closing his door, the Egyptian begrudgingly leaned down and looped his arm under the Demi-God's own, hauling her back up onto her feet as if she were as light as a feather. Zeus' Champion bore her weight with ease, practically carrying the woman over to his sofa, setting her down as carefully as he could upon it. If she even so much as winced, he would chastise her until the sun rose, though Amara would know that, unequivocally.*\n\n**\"Nice to know not even near-death experiences are a reason to call first,\"** *Zosar commented, matter-of-factly, hands on his hips as he glared down at his best friend, taking stock of injuries. His frown deepened, noting the degree at which her body had been battered, beaten and sliced; it was horrific.* **\"Far out, Amara, what in the hells have you been doing tonight?\"**\n\n-\n*He wouldn't wait for a response, because rarely did the woman offer one up. Instead, Zosar disappeared from view into an adjoining room, reappearing a few minutes later with a glass full of whiskey in one hand and a first-aid kit in the other. Taking a seat next to the Demi-God, the Champion set the tumbler of liquor in front of Amara, sighing as he did so.*\n\n**\"I don't have any ice, but I can cool it for you if you need,\"** *The Son of Zelus then pulled the knitted throw off the armrest, and wrapped it around his friend's shoulders without any further castigation.* **\"You want me to clean this shit off your face, or do you want to have a crack?\"** *A tender smile, for the first time that night was offered up by Zeus' Champion, as he presented the woman with a warm flannel to use if she so wished.*" } ]

[ { "author": "._lennox_", "message": "Tucked into the corner of the skyline district is a record shop. Bountiful number of records both old and new look from the store in boxes. The safe haven and guilty pleasure of those who love music." }, { "author": "BENDIS #", "message": "𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠\n𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝗼𝗻𝗲 . . . 𝒙\n\nAfter the blackness of night, Earth's star rises on the horizon, spreading her gold in every direction. She comes in the way natural forces do, needing no invitation yet feeling welcome. The light is her gift, bold and free, for anyone who cares to open their eyes in the dawn and watch the world awake. This is our sun, a fire ignited to bring warmth to the creation and inspire us to seek our beauty within. \n\nIt ignited the world anew with such brilliance, that the sun rose with casual elegance. Each day she shone and the world shone back, joyful to reflect those warm rays. Being the goddess of the moon, Bendis somehow sought out the beauty of the sun itself, amazed by it even though the moon was where she sought her true tranquility.\n\n In all of her beauty, she lifted her head, the sun's rays captured the striking beauty and refined elegance of the woman. Her flawless complexion, accentuated by a radiant glow, emanated a sense of self-assurance and confidence. Her striking features the sultry, soulful gaze, the sculpted brow, and the full, subtly glossed lips convey an undeniable charisma and charm only an immortal could hold. \n\nThe delicate, expertly-styled coiffure lent an air of sophistication, while the minimalist, yet impactful jewelry choice of silver earrings accentuated her natural allure. Bendis's visage exuded a captivating blend of grace, poise, and an undefinable magnetism that commands the attention of those around her. Those in the same area as her knew something was unique about the woman. \n\nHer beauty was not merely superficial but radiated an inner strength, intelligence, and authenticity that made her a truly compelling subject.\n\nThe record shop was charming, and nestled amongst the historic architecture of a vibrant urban district otherwise known as The Skyline District.\n\nThe storefront had been adorned with ornate, gilded details, exuding a timeless elegance that beckons passersby to step inside and explore the wonders that have been resting there. Their rows of neatly arranged records, both new and vintage, spilled out onto the sidewalk, creating an inviting display that tantalizes one's senses. \n\nThe wooden shelves and cozy atmosphere suggested a haven for those seeking to lose themselves in the auditory world while being surrounded by the rich history and culture that imbues the enchanting locale. \n\nThis place itself is a scene that captures the enduring allure of the independent record, a testament to the constant enduring power of music and the enduring human desire to discover, listen, and be transported through the magic of sound.\n\nThe woman's presence commanded the space as she stepped inside, her aroma of soothing lavender subtly wafting through the air, captivating the senses of all who occupied the intimate confines. Her movements were unhurried, almost intentionally languid as if she were the sole player in a private performance. Adorned in a simple yet refined athletic pristine white cream top paired with complementary leggings, and freshly white running shoes that bespoke of authenticity. And then, in a voice as velvety and alluring as the finest of silks, she uttered the words, \"I love some music...\" - a statement that hung in the air, imbued with quiet confidence and an unspoken invitation to those around her. \n\n✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . . . 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑠\n𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 :: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧\n𝑐𝑜-𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 :: 𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔦\n𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 :: \n𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 :: \n𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 ::" }, { "author": "Malachai", "message": "The inside of Olympus Record was not as neat and pristine as the shop indicated on the outside; its interior ran down from years of owners who showed no interest in keeping up with maintenance. The brick walls had holes drilled into them in attempts to hang shelving for records but it seemed as someone began the project and forgot. Multi-colored string lights were hung from the banisters in attempts to give it some ambiance. It was quaint. A hotspot for those who were sick of the bright and glamorous new buildings that had popped up within The Skyline District. The newest owner was trying, at least from what locals could see, to spruce it up while keeping the nostalgic feeling that drew them there in the first place. \n\nMalachai rested in a beat up red chair in the corner of the store with his feet propped up on a crate that had been used as a dollar bin for old records. His hair was messier today than normal due to his hands constantly running through the frizzy brown waves in nervous trepidation. The black trousers he wore matched the grungy Pandemonium tee. He drummed against the black notebook, a new song at the brink of creation. \n\nHe was a frequent flier in the store, often spending a good majority of his weekdays within the harmony of the endless music and people he would easily call family. His inability to be in silence for too long had led to late nights between the recording studio, band practices and the record shop. All as close to the feeling of home as he could find. \n\nWhen the bell chimed, he lifted his eyes to the door. The sun landed on the woman's face perfectly, illuminating her beauty as she stepped into the store. Her elegance was a huge contrast to the record studio and he couldn't help but think she looked almost otherworldly. Malachai watched her as she walked in, her gracefulness transcribed by the way she moved in leisurely fashion.\n\n\"Welcome to Olly's Record House, let me know if you need anything,\" Gravy called from the back of the store. The sole employee had been doing *Inventory* In the back for about an hour and had left Mal the responsibility for watching the front. Mal was truly awed by Gravy's ability to keep a job but somehow he had outlasted the past three owners. \n\n \"I love some music...\" The voice was sweet, almost sultry against his ears. Mal stood from his chair and stretched, worn from the half hour he had spent in that chair immersed in the songs he still had no words for. He stepped towards her, the scent of lavender slowly mixing with his cedar. \n\n\"Can I help you find something?\" The charismatic smile grew upon his face as his coffee eyes met hers of hazelnut and honey. \n\n||" }, { "author": "BENDIS #", "message": "╭──╯ . . . . . 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬\n_ _\n 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠\n 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝘁𝘄𝗼 . . . 𝒙 \n\n𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 into the weathered, yet enchanting confines of Olympus Records seemed to imbue the very air with her captivating essence. The humble, well-worn surroundings - the haphazardly adorned walls, the eclectic mix of lighting and decor - stood in stark contrast to her refined elegance as if she were a bloomed flower admiring amidst the grit and grime of a forgotten urban oasis.\n\n𝐘𝐄𝐓, it was precisely this juxtaposition that lent an intriguing allure to the scene. As Malachai, nestled comfortably in his worn armchair, he could not help but be drawn to the woman's mesmerizing presence. Her voice, rich and velvety, seemed to caress the air, weaving a melodic spell that captivated his senses. However, maybe he was attempting to be a polite business owner. \n\n𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 of the voice calling out from the back of the store, the woman's gaze lifted, her attention drawn to the source. With a graceful nod of her head, she acknowledged the greeting, a warm smile blossoming across her features and revealing the dazzling allure of her pearly white teeth.\n\n𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇, she sensed the approach of the man seated in the corner, Malachai, she was in no particular haste. Instead, she allowed her reaction to unfold naturally, her movements unhurried and her demeanor radiating a quiet confidence.\n\n𝐀𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈 drew nearer, and their scents began intermingling, her captivating floral essence and his earthy, cedar-tinged aroma created an attractive energy, a sensual aura that aroused the space. There was no sense of unease or discomfort in the woman's bearing; rather, she showed an effortless confidence, as if she were perfectly at home amidst the well-worn charm of the record shop.\n\n𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄, shown to be warm and inviting, met Malachai's, her eyes gleaming with a hint of curiosity and an unspoken openness to the prospect of their encounter. His warm, coffee-hued irises reflected something simmered within him in Bendis's opinion, while her hazel orbs glimmered with a subtle, magnetic allure. As he approached her with a genuine offer of assistance, her eyes had alight with a curiosity that hinted at the potential for a deeper connection to unfold within these walls, whether it was a friendship or an intimate relationship. \n\n𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐆𝐀𝐙𝐄 remained fixed on Malachai, her poise exuding effortless confidence as she spoke. \"Honestly, I came in here just to see what all this shop was about since it's been around for quite some time.\" She tilted her head slightly, a gesture that lent an endearing air of curiosity to her demeanor.\n\n𝐏𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐘, she ran her tongue delicately along her bottom lip, a habit that had lasted for centuries. \"But I'm looking for a record by one of my favorite jazz singers, Sarah Vaughan. Do you possibly have one of her records?\"\n\n𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 posed the question, a soft, genuine chuckle escaped her lips, not to be rhetorical, but rather a natural expression of her enjoyment in the act of conversation. \"Your name, also...\" She added, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, \"Since you'll be helping me, I assume?\" The question was posed with a graceful lilt, an unspoken invitation for Malachai to engage more deeply with her.\n\n✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . . . 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑠\n𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 :: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧\n𝑐𝑜-𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 :: 𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔦\n𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 :: \n𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 :: *Apologies for the wait.*\n𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 ::" }, { "author": "Malachai", "message": "The door closed, diminishing the light from the sun but despite the darker environment, the woman was still basked in a radiance Malachai couldn't help but notice. The soft features paired with a distinct refinement put a spell on both him and the store. Customers had grown quiet from the new arrival, even the song playing in the background seemed to change to accommodate the presence. Malachai straightened as her eyes landed on him, he reacted like an invisible string made him lose the lax posture: all while the curiosity and small inclination of mischief sat upon her lips. \n\n\"From someone who spends almost every chance he can here, it was the best choice you' could have ever made.\" The cheeky smile grew as he looked at her. Up close she was even more beautiful, the golden glow of her skin matched with plump magenta lips and eyes that could easily pull him under if he was not too careful. He matched the tilt of her head with his own. If he were none the wiser to a pretty girl's feigned innocence he would have been wrapped around her finger just by that look alone. \"Olympia Records has about every album you could imagine. Their inventory has grown with every new owner.\" Malachai put his hands in his pockets and turned, moving his head in a motion for her to follow him. \n\n\"You've got a sophisticated taste. Sarah Vaughn is a classic that I feel rarely gets picked up,\" He walks towards the back. A small table full of cases sat on the table in a neat row. The Jazz section was always easy to keep clean, the classic and sultry tunes not nearly as admired as they should be. He pulled a hand from his pocket and ran it over the records, many popular blues and jazz artists at the front of the case. John Coltrane. Billie Holliday. Louis Fitzgerald. \"We don't have many Jazz albums out front but I'm sure they have something in the back. We can ask Gravy if we can't find what you are looking for.\"\n\nHe leaned against the table and looked at the woman. \"My name is Malachai, I don't necessarily work here but next to Gravy I'm your best best at finding what you are looking for.\" He lifted a hand towards her as if to shake her hand. \"And may I ask, who I have the pleasure of helping today?\" His eyes spoke of mischief, a man who had dabbled before on the line of flirtation and charisma.\n\nPing: \nNotes: I'm in love with your formatting and I wish I had the patience. Also, no biggie, I'm obviously the one keeping you waiting longer." }, { "author": "BENDIS #", "message": "╭──╯ . . . . . 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬\n\n 𝕿𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 \n 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝘁𝘄𝗼 . . . 𝒙 \n\n𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐭𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 shifted subtly as Bendis returned Malachai's gaze, her presence effortlessly commanding yet curiously engaging. Her smile, slight and enigmatic, only hinted at the depths of her intrigue. \"Malachai, is it?\" She said, her voice carrying a melodic quality that seemed to harmonize naturally with the jazz records lining the walls.\n\n\"𝐈'𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐬. And I must say, your reputation for knowing your way around Olympia Records seems well-deserved.\"\n\n𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐢𝐦 through the aisles, Bendis's eyes flickered with a burst of silent laughter, appreciating both the ambiance of the store and Malachai's easy confidence.\n\n\"𝐒𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐡 𝐕𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐧 is indeed a rare choice, but sometimes the rarest things hold the most value, don't they?\" Her tone suggested a double entendre, her own rare and sophisticated tastes aligning with the treasures she sought.\n\n𝐀𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢 leaned against the table and extended his hand, Bendis took it, her grip firm yet warm, her skin soft but with a strength that belied her delicate appearance.\n\n\"𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐞 might be more of a challenge than you expect, Malachai. But I'm curious to see if you're up to it,\" She teased lightly, her eyes locking onto his with a playful yet penetrating stare. \"I'm looking for something that transcends the usual music that not only entertains but also resonates deeply. Do you think such a thing exists here?\" \n\n𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐐𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 was both a challenge and an invitation, testing his expertise and perhaps inviting him into a deeper conversation than he might have anticipated.\n\n✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . . . 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑐𝑟𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑠\n𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 :: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧\n𝑐𝑜-𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 :: 𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔦\n𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 :: \n𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑠 :: 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧!\n𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑝𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 ::" }, { "author": "Malachai", "message": "Malachai watched the woman, her gracefulness very different from his chaos and grunge. He was the epitome of a musician. The dark background mixed with a reserved hurt and an over-inflated ego to hide it all. As he stood next to Bendis he felt as though he had no business standing next to her but it was when she spoke her name he felt even more at loss. \n\n\" Bendis, as in the goddess?\" His smile faltered slightly. He hadn't been in Olympus long but meeting a goddess when he hadn't even met his father was a shock. The elegance and beauty making far more sense. \"I admit I spend far to much time here than I should. Its hard to leave the comfort of music.\" \n\nHer hand was soft, the delicate skin to atone for the radiant glow that she naturally possessed. He couldn't help but think of the callouses that lined his fingers and palms from years of playing guitar and other stringed instruments. \" I suppose you are right. A rare ruby in a pile of diamonds tends to show its worth.\" \n\nHe turned from her and started filtering through the records again, partially so that he would not stare and partially so that he could try to keep his cool. He shuffled through, pulling the two albums he had in mind from their places. Mark Murphey's \"Timeless\" Album and Gary Bart's \"There goes the Neighborhood\", are both different in their own way but underappreciated. He handed them to her and smiled. \n\n\"Neither of these are like Sarah, where she is more soulful these are in their own subgenres. Mark is more of a skat artist, his song transitions in Parker's Mood is phenomenal. Whereas Gary is a saxophonist, I've always loved the saxophone and he has a skill I wish I could possess. Not that it goes with my music.\" He shrugged before putting his hands in his pockets. \"Was it just jazz that you were interested in or are there other genres that pique your interest?\"\n\n`End Scene: Player Inactive`" } ]

[ { "author": "ALExIO", "message": "**╔════════════════════════╗**\n *𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗗𝗲𝗺𝗶-𝗚𝗼𝗱*\n**╚════════════════════════╝**\n*╒════════════╕*\n Pings ~ \n Notes ~ the words didn't word but I hope this is good enough ❤️\n*╘════════════╛*\n\n**TW // Mentions of death/gore.**\n\nNothing could have prepared Alexios for the **Carnage**. Not being a demi-god, not living through 700 plus years of his life— not even seeing countless wars, battlefields, and demolished cities. Alexi had seen entire neighborhoods be burnt to ashes, hundreds, if not thousands, of corpses all in one place. None of it ever phased him, so why did this steal the oxygen from his lungs. It turned his breath in sharp, harsh influxs as he tried to understand what happened— maybe it was just the residual smoke still seeping into his lungs, or maybe, it was because this was all **Personal**. Alexios had witnessed more death than any mortal could, but these deaths? It hit him harder than it had any right to. This Sanctum was one of the largest in the Skyline district. It housed over a hundred men, women, children, and demigods alike. They were *His* People. Mortals, and immortals, who relied solely on him to make sure they were safe and provided for. They were *His* Responsibility to keep **Alive**. They put their trust in him, they put their lives in his hands. \n\nAnd yet, they still died, and there was nothing he could do about it. \n\nThe feeling was heart-wrenching. Knowing he could have hidden the Sanctum better, put more guards, something. Anything. It was his first true lick of failure in the war, and it was likely only the beginning. As the sadness came and went, followed by the regret and hopelessness, a new emotion came to fill the void. One that stemmed from anger, one that demanded some sort of payment for the misdeeds done. An eye for an eye didn't even come close to what he was looking for, not anymore. He needed something more. \n_ _ _ _\n\nAlexios nudged the door open to the Sanctum. The building was an old warehouse, repurposed for the Mortal Bloods' own uses. Sanctums like this one were spread across all of Olympian, some smaller than others— this one happened to be the largest in the Skylines district. The outside looked mostly intact, save for the busted-out windows and the indication of the fire that leaped out of them. The inside was still beholden by smoke and soot, the walls were painted harshly with the black charcoal dust. Alexi grimaced, his fingers trailing along the edges of the doorframe. His pale green eyes instinctively narrowed at the sides of it. The doors had been locked shut from the outside, large steel rods being run across it so they couldn't escape from the inferno. They were trapped inside, likely left to pound at the metal doors for an escape, only to never achieve it. \n\nThis wasn't some *Accident* Like the news suggested. There was no chemical spill that caught fire. This was vividly intentional. Someone had taken the first shot at the Champions, and by extension, Alexios himself. They were peacekeepers, they helped *Refugees*. He couldn't fathom who would lack the humanity to do such a thing, even the most feral and treacherous of gods had their limits. Burning their own worshippers was usually among them.\n_ _ _ _\n\nAlexios stepped into the large, primary room. It was long and narrow, surrounded by bricks and steel beams. The old bed-cots were burnt down to just their metallic frames. The entire room was devoid of any bright colors or fabrics, and everything felt misplaced. Alexi stepped over a corpse, they were barely discernible, covered in large mounds of ash that barely resembled their old selves. They were commonplace at this point, and the police had given up on trying to identify the bodies. Probably for the best, given what might happen should they find a pile of bones that dated well over a thousand years old. Alexi bent over, snatching up a sword from the ground. It was bent outright by the heat, deformed and its edge long since lost, but it was the only thing left that was reminiscent of the people who lived here— everything else burnt to a crisp. \n\n*\"𝗪𝗵𝗼 𝗱𝗶𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀. . .\"* Alexi muttered beneath his breath to himself, barely audible beneath the ruckus of the city outside. His grip instinctively tightened around the hilt in response to the thought. Someone did this, and someone was going to be held **Accountable**." }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "He was inclined to the scent of sea foam. Poseidon found familiarity in the clearness of the air upon coastal dunes of sand, salty and wistful. Never could he find pleasure in the profuse invasion of soot, the only remaining evidence of subdued flames. It caused his nostrils to flare in distaste, as if he had any right to be displeased. All of it had been his doing, his order, his apathetic wave of a hand. Once flourishing bodies became skeletal remains, and he reveled in the resplendence of his kingdom as it happened. Now, he observed what remained, with little sympathy to give.\n⠀\nIt had been ordered to be done by Ares— whether or not the God had chosen to work alone, how he chose for it to be done, it did not matter. For Poseidon, it was a statement, and whatever variations of it would not deter from the immorality of its message. To the ruler of the sea, a passive aversion to the ongoing war was not a means to be spared. The only mortals with a livelihood that he wished to preserve were the ones that spoke highly of his name. Ones of frailty, that hid in the protection of lesser demigods, were insignificant. Poseidon had always been rather apathetic in this way, but now it doubled in size in that thing he called a heart. The war was the result of their future, especially his own. There was no war without harmless casualties. In this act, he had made sure of that— but it was less about those who had been killed, and more about what their slaughter would lead to.\n⠀\nIn times where he proudly wreaked havoc on enemies, he would not claim this atrocity. The blame would be cast on another, and it would be a stepping stone to his triumph.\n⠀\n\nHe did not know the soul of Alexios, but the same could be said for many of his dispensable nieces and nephews. It felt as though the thinning of time as well as the bond made through blood reduced in livelihood alongside one another. Children were a valuable thing, kept in the peripheral of their divine fathers, but love was not so commonly displayed. Poseidon had grieved the lives of many offspring, and to him, the agony of it dwindled with each additional death. Zeus had, too, and the brothers shared a similarly sullen tongue as fathers. They could both be distant and quietly cruel. He felt that Zeus could even be more monstrous than him. Alexios was the son of Zeus, and that was all Poseidon knew. It was all he had to know. They shared royal blood, and Poseidon knew that it meant for a potential of rage. An untapped, vicious thing, to be his father's son.\n⠀\nThe ruler of the ocean had approached the warehouse some moments after the demigod. Unusually, Poseidon was dressed in black, with an attire that lacked his anticipated touch of oceanic hues. It was as though he had readied himself for a funeral. A funeral brought more peace than this, did it not? There was little closure to be found here— for those that mourned, that is. Only a few steps had been taken, past the parted doorway to the warehouse, and once polished loafers were enveloped in dust. An open, flowing overcoat that came down to his knees began to seep in the smell of it all. The foulness of ash and the inexorable stench of death rivaled for the lasting aroma on his clothes. Eyes of an unfeeling concoction of blue and green observed the scene, and he remained expressionless and unafraid. He had seen far too many obscenities to be scarred.\n⠀\n\nThe championed demigod, however, was not similar to him in this way. He was molded with the grace of humanity. Where he stood, a distance away and now in Poseidon's sight, his fury could be sensed. It quietly trembled the earth, just as Poseidon knew it would. The elder God's shoes were a detected sound, stepping over rubble and what was left of bodies. For a widespread building, swept clean of any remnants that it had been lived in, the two of them did not exactly feel alone. Death was still too pungent.\n⠀\n\"An act of this nature was unpreventable.\"\n⠀\nThe words were not from a tender heart, but they were not spoken with complete inhumanity. To a mind that was vulnerable, he might have sounded like a fortified crutch to lean on. He was known for tumultuous bitterness or an inscrutable tone, and very little lurked in–between. As it always had been, his voice was a blaring force and it stretched outward, displacing the unsettling silence. He was eyeing the square of the demigod's back, and the misshapen blade that he held in his hand. Poseidon looked to the ceiling, once touched by the ends of flames, and then back down.\n⠀\n\"My brother has shown his discontent in this war in all forms.\" There was an implication that hid behind his words, and he needn't explain it. He took a step nearer to Alexios, with his eyes stuck on the end of the warped, helpless blade." }, { "author": "ALExIO", "message": "**╔════════════════════════╗**\n *𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗕𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗳 𝗮 𝗗𝗲𝗺𝗶-𝗚𝗼𝗱*\n**╚════════════════════════╝**\n*╒════════════╕*\n Pings ~ \n Notes ~ excuse the double ping discord is autistic\n*╘════════════╛*\n\nAlexi was having a troubling time believing it. It felt like something of a fever dream, but that was a hope that even he knew to be foolish. He had been told of what happened hours earlier, but he refused its reality— the reality that said that someone's cruelty could extend all the way to violent atrocities as vile as this. Now, as he stood there in the dusty remnants of what remained, he couldn't *Deny* Reality. Not anymore. His green hues overlooked the edges of the blade in his hands. It stood as a perfect testament to the works that were slowly forming around him, around the city. Its strong core warped in every way imaginable, its edge dulled to nothing, burnt marks that clearly indulged in its own scars, the hilt unstable and fragile. Yet, even still, it possessed danger. It left Alexios terrified of what it could mean for him, what this war might do to his own outlooks and morals— even more so, he was scared of the decisions he might make in the future. The humanity that he so tightly clung to potentially *Burnt* Away into nothing. \n\nThe gentle noise of a footstep soon snapped him out of his own mental state, the presence of another making themselves known. His eyes flicked up from where they looked upon the blade, scanning the warehouse's length. Alexi's eyes leveled on Posiedons as he stepped out from the cover of one of the building's supportive beams, and at that moment his head fully rounded up. Alexios' posture straightened out of reflex. \n_ _ _ _\n\nAnd even still, he didn't make a move. His feet remained in their place, even as the god of the ocean approached closer. There was no hint of fear in the demi-god's eyes or waver in his attention. Many feared gods feared the great three, Posiedon, some would argue the most. They became meek in his presence, eager to not step out of place or act improperly— his wrath was just too high of a risk. For a demi-god, it was nearly unheard of. At least, for the few who inevitably met him. Especially not ones, who for all intents and purposes, were against him in the war. Even if it did take on the guise of supporting the mortals. Yet, there he stood with nothing but an inquisitive gaze and a sword in his hand. Some would argue cornered, though Alexios would argue alone. Two very different things in his eyes. Alexios always embodied his father's presence of strength, even amidst the odds, even if he'd never get a chance to know it. \n\n*An act of this nature was unpreventable*. The words echoed in the solemn building, bouncing off its stone walls as it mimicked the way Alexi's own brain repeated it to himself. The demi-god's mind clung to the statement, wanting it to be true, but the logical part of his mind argued against it just as fiercely. He knew he could have done more, even if he refused to believe it. Posiedon was just giving his own mind a reason to believe it. Alexios turned in his step, addressing the god directly. \"𝗜 𝗱𝗼𝗻'𝘁 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀, 𝗣𝗼𝘀𝗶𝗲𝗱𝗼𝗻. 𝗜 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗜 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘀𝗼𝗼𝗻𝗲𝗿,\" Alexi's voice started off sharp. His words carried across the room with a piercing effect, but they progressively grew softer as the sentence dragged on. \n_ _ _ _\n\nAlexios distrusted Posiedon in every way imaginable, and it showed in his speech. This war was half his fault. These deaths, and all the others that had preceded it, were half on his hands. A petty war between his uncle and father, all over ego and power while willing to risk the entire city. The fact he was even *Here* Was surprising. Alexi's mind couldn't help but listen to subtle accusations, even as the cynical part of his mind won out. This building was burnt by an inferno, and charged with every manner of details that wasn't befitting of the ocean god. He was too far from the safety of his waves and his legions and protectors, too far into the enemy territory. However, It did bring the question to the forefront of his mind. Why *Was* He here, talking with him of all people, amidst Zeus' own dedicated district. It was foolish, uncalculated. It felt out of place for a god as old as he was, and Alexios couldn't help but think there could be ulterior motives. \n\nAlexi's grip tightened on the sword in his hands as Poseidon's final words rang true, the things he implied singlehandedly confirming what he had already suspected— while simultaneously dragging him deeper into his own pit of worry. He knew this war was going to drag the Demi-Gods in inevitably, he just hadn't expected it so damn soon. \n_ _ _ _\n\n\"𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁?\" Alexi's voice remarked in momentary disbelief, though the real question lay just behind the tone. *Who?* \"𝗪𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝗻𝗲? 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿,\" His voice finally questioned, seeking out Posiedon for answers he seemed to have. His traditionally calm and composed voice had its first sign of cracks. Hints of frantic energy and confusion tuck themselves into the finely crafted layers of his speech. Part of him was concerned for the answer— both brothers, Hades and Zeus, had shared their *Discontent* With the war in their own unique ways, and Alexi wasn't sure he was ready for the answer. On one hand, he didn't want to believe his own father was capable of such cruel and unforgiving actions. At the end of the day, it was his own blood. On the other hand, if it was Hades, he had no clue what he would tell Persephone. If anything at all. By all accounts, a fiery death more than fit his methods. \n\nEven still, he was desperate for an answer. Regardless of what it was. He needed to know who had committed these actions, and he needed to know *Exactly* Who. Alexios was more than willing to go to whatever lengths it would take to revenge these deaths, and he was not opposed to standing up to gods even as powerful as they were for a righteous enough cause. Especially one fueled by his own desires." }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "In starkly different circumstances, in some unforeseen and unperceived universe, Poseidon believed that he would favor Alexios. If he would have been Poseidon's son rather than his brother's, then maybe he would have a heart to not blacken his mind with deceit. However, they were in no foreign land, and the demigod's blood did not meddle with the salty seas. He did not favor Alexios, and he never would. Poseidon would become the impassive observer to the bloodletting of father and son if he must. It would be more favorable than the spilling of his own blood. There was a crown awaiting him, a status that trampled Zeus's eminence, and he would take it.\n⠀\nPoseidon commended him for his gallantry. There were lesser gods with a far more brittle backbone than the son of Zeus, and he could not help but frown upon it. To Poseidon, their divinity was not only sealed by their ever–lasting mortality or faultless features, but it was to be a way of living. It was in the way that one spoke, in the way that power was meant to be displayed, and he believed that many gods did not live up to his standards. His standards were, admittedly, filled with infeasible demands. Only he could match his own desires, and that was exactly why there would be no other face to lead those that peered up to him. There was a reborn manifestation of what their world would be, and it held itself in his palms, in his straightened shoulders. It was all him, it was only him. There was an otherworldly grace in it, but it was not always so refined.\n⠀\nHe looked saintly, in a cloak of darkness, with eyes that did not quiver and hair the color of a dissipating flame. It would have been such an awing sight, if it weren't for what surrounded him. An island of ash and remains, memories that were indisposed as flesh fell from bone.\n⠀\n\nHis words had been less of a condolence and more of the telling of a harsh truth, but Poseidon would not deny them of an interpreted kindness. \"This was done in such a way to ensure that you would not know of it until it was far too late.\"\n⠀\nTo kill and to destroy in this way was not particularly exclusive to Poseidon. All of them, despite their unique abilities and their deficiencies, were fond of wreaking havoc. Whoever was blessed to remain did not see any gift in their survival. They were powerless, in such a debilitating way that it quaked them with shame, and the ceaseless demands to have done more. Alexios could not have watered down these flames, even if he had known eons in advance. To stand in Poseidon's path insinuated that war would follow. It was why his path was so often barren, with the sporadical opponent that was granted a slow, regretful fate.\n⠀\n\nPoseidon was aware of the years that Alexios wore beneath his belt, and the effects of time that molded them, despite a mutual lack of aging. Regardless, when the demigod questioned which of his brothers had done such a thing, Poseidon found an inflection in his tone that was similar to a young boy's. In the demigod's eyes, a child lived, and Poseidon could see it. Only for a moment. He had presumed that who he boldly accused was obvious, yet he was further questioned, between the stirring deity in the sky and the one that lurked with indifference in the underworld's depths. Perhaps it was a brief state of denial, to hope that his father could not be so beastly. It had been Poseidon, yes, but Zeus very easily could have stricken these men, women, and children.\n⠀\n\"Hades would have no desire in taking the lives that once rested here. There is enough on his hands, and war does not interest him.\" It had been some time since seeing Hades, as well, but this was no lie. Another step was taken, upon more evidence of the building's destruction, and his eyes remained on the other's. In the depths of the demigod's eyes, he could see the frenzied composition of a brewing flame. If it was coaxed by Poseidon, would it be more of a storm? His face of judgment was unusually tranquil, free of a foul temper.\n⠀\nPoseidon looked to him as if the answer had always been so painfully clear. He gave the look of an uncritical, remindful father. What a performance it was, to seem as though he was ever a doting god. \"Your father's rage has always been undomesticated. To not be shown loyalty by his own son... It can be a great offense.\"\n⠀\nThe sea god persisted. \"What will you do?\"" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "A green space dedicated to relaxation and recreation. Lush gardens, jogging trails, and outdoor ampitheatres provide a serene environment for residents and visitors. The park is adorned with sculptures depicting Zeus in various mythological scenes, offering a tranquil escape amidst the towering structures of Zeus summit." }, { "author": "~Calliope Winters~", "message": "***Calliope jogged down one of the various trails in Aegis Park. Her blonde hair tied up into a french braid, sweat glistening across her forehead as she ran. Since finding out her true heritage, she made it a point to better herself. She felt she needed to be stronger, even though she already was due to the blood in her veins. She wanted to... Make her father proud. To be worthy of this new world she had entered. It had been days since she learned Hephaestus is her father, and that she was far from a normal mortal. She spent her days in the forge, mostly avoiding his presence. Only exchanging a few words here and there, she needed time to clear her head.*** \n\n***It was difficult to wrap her head around. That the legends and myths were all true, gods roamed and lived amongst demigods and mortals alike. Looking like any average human, just hiding in plain sight. It was shocking to her, and it answered all those questions she never understood. Why she felt so drawn to fire and metal, why she was so talented in crafting things with her bare hands. She shook her head slightly, continuing on with her jog.*** \n\n***Her green eyes looked at the lush greenery around her, it was a beautiful park. Built for all sorts of purposes, trails with beautiful views of the gardens. The foliage a variety of bright colors, flowers of all kinds. She had been searching for a place that somewhat reminded her of home, this seemed to fit it somewhat. It wasn't anything compared to the mountain trails and forests, but it would do for now. She continued onto her run, panting softly and checking her watch. She had decided to track how long and fast she could run for, to get an idea of what strength she had. Yet her exhaustion soon gave in, and she slowed to a stop along the trail. Checking her watch once more, she had noticed she ran a good two miles. Her timing only being 17 minutes. It wasn't too bad, but it was only a start.*** \n\n***She placed her hands above her head, walking and settling by a\n\nNearby pond in the park. She sat by the water, the sun's heat dancing on her skin. The sweat glistened from its light. Her breathing slowed, calm washing over her. Her eyes closed as she stretched out her legs. She was thankful for the clothing she had picked, a matching top and shorts set with her new favorite running shoes. Calliope didn't bother bringing her headphones, as she had wanted to listen to her surroundings. Letting the song of birds fill her ears, and the rustling of leaves from the soft breeze. One thing she adored was the music of nature. She finished her stretches now, sitting by herself near the pond. Eyes focused on watch the fish swim while she soaked up the blazing sun***" }, { "author": "Apollo", "message": "\"Beautiful, isn't it?\" \n\nThe park was crowded. It was not as if she had missed others in the area going about their daily life, but when she turned to spy the speaker of the question, she might have wondered how she could have missed him. Tall, broad shouldered with dark features and a plethora of ink spilling out of the sleeve and cut of his henly shirt. Perhaps she found him attractive. Most did, yet it begged the question of how someone like him could have skipped over her gaze the first time. \n\n\"The way the sun reflects off the water this time of day. The ripples from the ducks landing. It's something to behold in the middle of a major metropolis.\" That smile was charming. Dangerously so, given how easily it spread to his features and lit the gloom of his naturally dark countenance. The effortless ones, oozing charisma, were always the ones a young woman needed to look out for. Especially this lovely, half-divine blonde just going about her day. \n\nThe stranger touched the back of her bench seat and then moved to take it without asking if he could. How like one of divine birth to simply assume all was owed to him. \"If you don't mind me saying, friend, there is a feel about you. A glow. Something out of this world.\" He spoke with his hands, gesticulating for theatrics. He did have such large, expressive hands. \n\n\"Allow me to introduce myself.\" He pressed to his chest, head bowing. \"I am Apollo.\" Would she assume his parents were simply liberal-minded with names, or did she look upon this man and call upon her histories to figure he, too, like her father was a creature of divinity that had found its way into her vicinity? His hazel-green eyes searched her own for some sort of answer to a question he had not posed. He was taking the roundabout path, keeping his cards in his hands rather than throwing them down on the table. Such was not his strong suit." }, { "author": "Calliope Winters", "message": "***Calliope looked up from where she sat, startled by the sudden presence behind her. Her body turned slightly to get a good look at him. Tall and intimidating, she must have been in a daze to have failed notice. Lost in her own little world in that head of hers. She felt slightly on edge by his appearance, though attractive he looked like trouble. Yet, his kindness gave off something entirely. Her green eyes remained locked on him, her head shaking slightly to regain focus. She needed to keep it together.*** \n\n~\n\n\"I agree, it is very beautiful. I was lucky to have come across this park. Nature is always beautiful though isn't it? Even more so when the sun shines as bright as this.\" \n\n~\n\n***She hummed in agreement, her head tilting up to look at the sky for a moment. The warmth of the sun's rays hitting her features, making her blonde hair seemingly sparkle. Appearing lighter than it was. She dragged her gaze back to the stranger, blushing slightly. His smile was... Something divine. He oozed confidence and charm, seemingly knowing exactly what he was doing. His intentions are unclear to her, but she would remain alert to them. As best as she possibly could.*** \n\n~\n\n***Calliope stilled slightly in her seat, moving to make room for him. She expected for him to walk off, to continue about his day. Why would a stranger make time for a lone woman sitting by a pond? Let alone one who looks like she ran more than simply two miles, most likely stinking of sweat and appearing as more of a mess than usual. She suddenly felt a bit self conscious of herself now, yet she couldn't tear her gaze from him.***\n\n~\n\n\"You speak to kindly of me, way too kindly. I am but average, like anyone else here in the park today.\" \n~\n\n***She replied softly, unable to truly meet his gaze now. Her blush deepened more. Was he being sarcastic, nice, or flirty? She couldn't tell which one it could be. It was when he introduced herself, she locked eyes with him. A soft gasp escaping her lips, eyes widening. She had thought him a mere mortal, but she was sorely mistaken. He was like her father, one of the twelve Olympians. Though his appearance had thrown her off, she imagined he would look... Different. Callie didn't quite understand why, but she at least knew of him. Who he is and what he is the god of. She began to ramble a bit, due to her nerves and shock.*** \n\n~\n\n\"T-the Apollo? I mean I should hardly be surprised, I only recently found out my father was Hephaestus and that this world existed. I wasn't expecting to meet... Any more of the gods. I-my apologies... I didn't mean to ramble. You just... Threw me off\" She trailed off nervously, fidgeting with her hands." }, { "author": "papadrah", "message": "The fact that she praised the sun was not lost on him. It only seemed to further appease the man for some reason or the other. That would become clear in moments, but for now he was simply one to admire the presentation of the one before him. Despite the fact that she would claim to be average, all that looked upon her would know that she was anything but. There was temptation to touch her hair and fan it amongst his fingers to let divine light shine through. Even Apollo was not so bold as to lay fingers upon a new person within the first few seconds of meeting them. \n\n\"It has it's beautiful moments.\" Though with his gaze moving to her, it was difficult to say if they were still speaking of the same sort of nature. There was something base about this one. The sense that the carnal was never far from where his gaze fell. This was someone used to getting their way, and not by means of force. \n\nThe satisfaction of watching realization hit her eyes was something to admire. She had such large, expressive, doe-like eyes that told him what she was thinking. Hers was not a face prone to mystery, and he admired that in someone. \"In the flesh.\" The man said, hands turning palm towards the sky in an innocent sort of expression. She rambled, but he did not find it unattractive. \n\nHephaestus was not a god known for their looks or charm. Whatever mortal he had laid with would have had to of been of exceptional beauty to balance out to something like this. \"A half-blood? Marvelous. That explains the attraction. I should have known, but one can never be too careful these days.\" Apollo was not the sort to ever be careful. The simple shrug he gave after was as good an indicator of his care free nature as anything else in this life. \n\n\"Most are not at their most gracious when meeting a new god for the first time. There is that sense of awe one must deal with, but I have met many through out the ages, and you handled it better than most. Points for you, my pretty.\" There was no sense in hiding the flirtation. Apollo had not compunction about speaking in such a way to the daughter of a fellow god. With his darling daughter no where around to judge him for his actions, he decided a bit of sport could make for a spirited afternoon. \n\nAfter a quick glance down her glistening form, he looked back to the water. \"Do you live here?\" His hand made a motion as he raised it as if to indicate the general sort of area. \"A shame we did not meet on Olympus. I have a breath taking pool..\"" }, { "author": "Calliope Winters", "message": "***Calliope could feel her blush threatening to deepen. It felt like he was staring into the depths of her soul. She was taken aback by him, she didn't expect any of the gods to look... To look as he did now. It nearly made her forget he has been around far longer than her, seen most of the world and met a variety of people. It made her wonder what it must be like to have lived for so long. She couldn't stop looking at him, as much as she wanted to tear her gaze from him. She couldn't deny that she found him... Very attractive.*** \n\n~\n\n\"I think its moments are almost always beautiful, other than when it causes destruction or anything terrible.\"\n\n~\n\n***She spoke softly, playing with the watch around her wrist. Twisting it around with her fingers, her eyes still captured by his own. She fidgeted when she was nervous, or when she felt something new. Both applied to her situation now, she felt nervous and something new blooming. He looked at her like she was the only woman in the park, even though there were plenty all around them. People milling about, going on with their days. A normalcy she no longer had now that she knew the truth hidden beneath it all.*** \n\n~\n\n\"So it is true you all just wander like the rest of us, without us ever knowing? And what do you mean by attraction?\" \n\n~\n\n***Was it the pull he spoke of? Calliope shot the questions at him without thinking much on it. She was only told so much, and she couldn't remember it all. Did the same pull she felt when around fire also apply to the gods and others like her? Or was he speaking of a different kind of attraction? She shook her head some to rid herself of her various questions. She didn't want to bombard him with them.***\n\n~\n\n\"I mean... How do the rest react? I am not even sure how I should be reacting or even behaving right now. I- its literally you, one of the gods perceived to be only legends and myths.\" \n\n~\n\n***She stammered as she spoke, finally looking away from him. Trying to conceal the ever growing blush that spread around her face. He was flirting with her, and she was unsure on how to respond to it. A bold part of her wanted to flirt back, yet the other told her otherwise. He must only do it to be nice to her, nothing more than that. At least, so she told herself.*** \n\n~\n\n\"I like swimming sometimes... I would love to see Olympus one day. Since the legends are indeed true it must be breathtaking there. I do not live here, I live in the forge with my father. He gave me a spare room to stay in... I spend most of my days there\"" }, { "author": "Apollo", "message": "Star-struck was the way he would describe how she was acting now. It leant to the story she told of only just being revealed to the divine world, though he would not have called this one a liar. There was simply too much innocence in those eyes to suggest anything different. There were no nefarious bones in her body. The handsome man's green eyes moved languidly from points on her face to where she fidgeted at her wrist. The nervous nature only made his smile that much wider. \n\n\"Well, of course. If we revealed ourselves, it would be a madhouse. Chances are you have brushed against our influences multiple times and never noted it. For example, if you enjoyed nude *Sun* Bathing..\" He let the words trickle out as if he had seen parts of her that were not to be shared before he broke into laughter. \"I kid. I'm not omnipotent. I love telling that joke and watching the eyes go wide in shock.\"\n\nApollo was a playful god. There were many of his kind who were overly serious and did not know how to crack a smile, but he did not bear the weight of responsibility as they did. Most of his realms were more enjoyable thus he was prone to fits of reverie and long bouts of wanderlust that took him all over creation. \"Well, you did not drop to your knees and bow. Nor did you faint. Those are both what I would consider the bad sorts of introductions. A little bit of nervous energy is no crime.\"\n\n\"Next to your father's forge? That's ghastly.\" His nose was slightly upturned at the notion. \"Not to speak ill of your father, mind you. I respect his craft, but to have to hear a forge sing all day as hammers beat away at it.\" A shudder raced through him. \"How could I ever enjoy my shows like that?\" \n\nWith a wave of his hand, the sun rays danced beautifully upon the mirrored surface of the water for a moment before it disappated into nothingness. \"What has it been like for you to discover your real self? To find that you are not like one of them?\" He mad an absent, dismissive motion towards the others just enjoying their day. This was a question that always interested him greatly. It reminded him of the day he'd arrived to take his daughter.." }, { "author": "Calliope Winters", "message": "***Calliope played with her watch even more, her cheeks practically burning as his eyes lingered on her face. She wondered if he found her to be quite foolish with how she was acting, all star-struck and nervous around his presence. She would adjust with time hopefully, once she got past the initial awe of meeting and gods she happens to run into during her time here in Olympian.*** \n\n***Her eyes widened slightly, her body immediately tensing when he mentioned nude sunbathing. She may be a shy one... But she did enjoy the sun without getting tan lines. Though that was always in private where no one would see her. She relaxed immediately, laughing along with his joke.*** \"Well it certainly worked on me, you had me worried there for a minute. Now you do have me wondering how many times I have ran into... Well someone like you.\" \n\n***She furrowed her brows, feeling both very confused and shocked anyone would react in such a way towards a god.*** \"I... Have many done that? Fainted or dropped to their knees?\" ***She asked him curiously, the mere thought making her smile a bit more. She would have found it funny if someone did either one of those, or even both. Calliope couldn't exactly judge them on doing so... But the thought was funny nevertheless. It seemed Apollo too may have found it funny, or maybe more annoying if anything.***\n\n\"Maybe it sounds ghastly for you, but for me it brings me a sense of contentment. The sound of the hammers beating against hot metal, the sound of the fires crackling and the smell of the burning coal that fuels it. It feels like home for me... Perhaps that is just something a kid of his would enjoy. I spent many of my days working around a forge, granted it was much smaller than my fathers...\" \n\n***Calliope thought to herself for a moment, trying to find the words to explain how she felt about all this. She felt a mixture of emotions, excitement and anger.*** \"It has been a variety of things Apollo. I am angered by the fact my entire life has been a complete lie, that all this time my father was around and that I am more than... A regular mortal. But it is also... Exciting I guess? To learn more and see what I am capable of.\"" } ]

[ { "author": "wingmancan", "message": "~ Frank Herbert, \"Dune\"" }, { "author": "Alexios || Conner Donnelly", "message": "Alexios knew that the days of getting away with destroying godly infrastructure were numbered, but he was spreading the chaos as much as he could until then. The gods thought they were untouchable - and maybe they were - but there were other ways one could make them feel vulnerable. He chose to hit a few temples first, distracting them with descrating their monuments without harming a single person. Ares' temple and Dionysus's Vineyard Fields were just two of the targets in the victimless crimes. Hephaestus's forge was another, Alexios choosing to hit it simply to slow down production of the weapons being used in the war. He knew it wouldn't stop things completely, but it would do some damage. \n\nHis Champions were putting in the work. Alexios couldn't be everywhere at once, but he had plenty of people he could count on to do their jobs effectively. Esmeray was busy dealing with Triton while he was vulnerable, Jared was having too much fun burning Dionysus's fields and stealing expensive wine, and Amara was . . . Being Amara - choosing her target carefully doing what needed to be done. \n\nThat left Alexios with the biggest one of all - Zeus's temple. It was the prime target to send a message to the gods that mortals and demigods alike would no longer just be pawns in their wargames. They weren't going to take the devastation of their lives or the destruction of their homes lying down. It was time to make a stand. \n\nThat was his hope, anyway. He stood inside of Zeus's temple dressed as a worshipper of the god - a white robe with a lightning bolt etched above the left breast, and gold trim webbing around the neck and sleeves which made it look like lightning streaks. Alexios kept the hood up over his head, though he was almost one hundred percent sure no one would recognize him; he was just copying the other worshippers in the temple.\n\nBlue eyes peeked out from under the hood, looking for weak points in the pillars, finding the best places to strike foundation and force it to crumble. Alexios's power could accelerate decay in both living things and objects; all he needed to do was find the weakest points and exploit them. It wasn't a job he could do in a day, especially since there were so many worshippers crowding the temple, but it was a process he could begin. \n\nHe followed the others to the head of the temple where the main altar was, hiding his disdain for the statue that stood towering over the entire room. Zeus's likeness haunted all of Olympian, and Alexios couldn't stand to look at it, as memories always flooded his mind with memories of Jessie's death, his father's . . . His mother. All of the victims in his own life and countless others at the hands of such a monster. \n\nHis body briefly tensed but he let it go, his shoulder slumping as he dipped his hands in the cleansing water of the temple, following along with the other worshippers. Then he moved off to the side to kneel and pray, but kept his eyes moving around the room to scope out weak points." }, { "author": "antichrist2828", "message": "With every new moon, the shroud of unease throughout Olympus only grew. Whispers of desecrated temples crept into Olympian. Messengers warned him, there was threat on Earth. The destruction of Hephaestus' Forge struck a chord within him in particular. Cessation of weapon production was direct sabotage, and Zeus took it incredibly personally. Every second was vital, and this was what he took notice of. Most took the side of Zeus if not Poseidon, but the evidence before him suggested the contrary. Neutrality among Olympian, lurking somewhere he'd been blind to. \n\nAs Zeus pondered over each broken monument, an undeniable conviction settled within him. His own temple might have found itself in the crossfire, and he would not allow it. So, that morning he could be found there. With searching eyes and a wild heart, he dared someone strike. \n\nHe had devoted every moment to preparing for the war. Immersed in a relentless pursuit, he operated with a single-minded focus that bordered on obsession. Time had passed like it was nothing, and soon he came to find he had inadvertently overlooked not just one, but several attacks throughout Olympian. \n\nHe would need to regain his footing. \n\nAmidst the sea of mortals, all clad in white robes and golden stitching, Zeus stood as a solitary figure moving against the current. They had gathered at his temple, a place where reverence breathed through the air, their movements mimicked one another in silent worship. Yet, he walked in the opposite direction, his expression mirrored carved stone. With searching eyes he wove through the crowd, looking for anyone who appeared out of place. \n\n—\n\nAs Zeus approached the fountain, his gaze fell upon a figure peeking out from under his hood. He watched as he scooped water into his hands before moving to a posture of prayer. Suddenly, the clamor around him seemed to dissolve into silence. As if a spotlight had dimmed all other distractions, suddenly only they existed. He halted, nearly mid-step. An unfamiliar chill pricked the back of his neck, his heart thudded loudly in his ears. Confusion furrowed Zeus's brow, a deep unease settled in his chest, leaving him profoundly uncomfortable, yet inexplicably drawn to understand why. \n\nIt was a sensation more eerie than anything else, a feeling no mortal could evoke. So, he wondered who he was looking at. He approached the man, his hands clasped loosely behind him. His expression was quizzical, yet vague. There was little Zeus lacked knowledge of. So, he would need to know him. \n\n\"Mind if I join you?\"" }, { "author": "Alexios || Conner Donnelly", "message": "*Holy shit.*\n\nThe words crossed his mind the moment he saw who entered the temple, towering over his followers as he strode against the direction of the crowd. The God of the Sky himself. \n\nZeus. \n\nA collective gasp passed over the worshippers in the temple, and Conner joined them in their surprise, though his was far less positive than the rest. A violent chill was felt down to his bones and every muscle in his body tensed. He was thankful he wore the robe to conceal every subtle movement. Eyes falling to the ground, he tried to avoid making contact with Zeus's intense stare so he could go unnoticed. \n\nAround him, the worshippers dropped to their knees to bow, but Conner's body went rigid as he hesitated. Pride screamed at him to never bow to that monster, but intelligence forced his knees to bend so he could remain hidden in plain sight. It was not the time nor the place to confront Zeus. He wasn't ready. \n\nDespite his attempts to appear natural, something must have made him stand out. His hesitation or his expression, *Something* Seemed to draw Zeus toward him. Each step the god took made his heart race a little faster, made every muscle in his body scream for him to get out of there as fast as possible. But he remained in place, forcing himself to remain still despite instincts telling him otherwise. \n\nThere was a strange sensation as Zeus got close. The fear and the anger passed through Conner and he suddenly felt surprisingly calm. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling as he forced his body to relax. His eyes focused on a crack in the granite floor and he let his mind go blank.\n\nWhen Zeus finally spoke to him, he didn't flinch. He simply glanced up, and then looked away fast, acting like a follower who was in awe that he was being spoken to by his god. \n\n\"Me? What have I done to deserve such an honor, my lord?\" He hoped Zeus didn't have super hearing because his heart was slamming against his chest." }, { "author": "antichrist2828", "message": "As Zeus loomed over the hooded figure, a tempest of disquiet brewed in his chest. It appeared proximity invoked an alchemical reaction, one with a fervor he could not quell. He found the sensation bewildering, and as he sat in it, it began to gnaw at him. The man's gaze briefly surged upwards, blue eyes flashed in his direction before hastily retreating towards the floor. A stillness overcame Zeus, and as he watched this, his brows dared to knit together. \n\n\nReality was beginning to set in for him. \n\nThe man before him, shrouded in the guise of a mortality, could not be a mortal. There was no human capable of stirring such turmoil, he was certain of that. Yet, there he knelt, cloaked in colors he did not believe in. The idea of it all being a facade was blasphemous. Anger simmered like a gathering storm within him, and as his ire rose, the skies mirrored his fury. \n\nAbove them, borders of clouds began to fray, each filament weaving into a somber quilt of ash. Distantly, where the sky met the promise of the horizon, a low rumble of thunder whispered.\n\nHe did not know what this was, but he did not like it. \n\n*\"Me? What have I done to deserve such an honor, my lord?\"* \n\nThose words, however innocent, were a spark to Zeus's fury. Perhaps it was a timbre of deceit in his tone, or the suspicion which already clouded Zeus's judgement. Regardless, time for mere observation had passed; he would no longer be a silent spectator to this charade. \n\nAbruptly, he dropped to one knee. His heart, ablaze with anger, thundered in his chest. He leaned forward with intent, his eyes narrowed into slits. His gaze was piercing, begging to cut through the shadows cast by the cloak. There, he searched for what he did not know. His pupils darkened, and when he spoke his voice cut through the silence with the sharpness of a blade. \n\n\"Who the hell are you?\" \n\nZeus spoke with gritted teeth and wild eyes. Here, in his realm, disrespect was poison, and he had tasted its bitter taint." }, { "author": "Alexios || Conner Donnelly", "message": "Despite all of his efforts to remain under the radar, Zeus had somehow picked Conner out of the crowd. He was wearing the same robe as everyone else, carried himself in the same fashion, copied the same movements, and even groveled before the god they worshiped, but none of it seemed to matter. Zeus still stood in front of him with eyes of wildfires sprung from lightening strikes. Studying him. Questioning him without words. Was it a coincidence or did he know something? Sense something? \n\nRecognize his long lost son? \n\nHe didn't dare to look up again, his blue eyes shackled to the floor but threatening to break free of their chains to meet the threat head on. He didn't need to look in order to *Feel* The air between them - thick with tension, warm with static. And there was something else between them, something unfamiliar but *Strong* In a way that Conner couldn't quite comprehend. He thought it was nerves, at first, but the feeling in his gut stretched throughout his entire body - as if Zeus's very presence caused a chain reaction. \n\nThere was no time to process the feeling. Distant thunder drew his attention to the sky which darkened into a gray prison. Zeus's voice, which had been casual in its introduction, twisted to match the low, but angry rumbling in the sky. Conner's heart felt a surge of panic, but his body remained still. His fists clenched, hidden under his cloak. How did Zeus *Know?* He had been so careful . . .\n\nHe knew he was in trouble if he remained there for too long, but a big exit wasn't ideal. He needed something subtle, something that wasn't obviously coming from him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he could only think of one option that would be least destructive to himself and to the people around him. \n\nAnd, if he was lucky, not particularly obvious it was him. \n\nHe released his blight, but rather than do it in one burst of energy that could have knocked most of the mortals around him off of their feet with a severe sickness, he released it slowly. It moved through the air in gentle waves, infecting the crowd around him with various sicknesses. At such a low intensity, he would be surprised if Zeus felt any effect, but the humans around him would quickly begin to feel nauseous, turn pale, and waver on their feet. \n\n\"My lord, I did not mean to upset you,\" He said, his voice steady despite the beating of his heart. \"My name is Con— . . .\" \n\nThe first true victim was one standing over by a statue of Ganymede in the corner; the man hunched over and puked onto the marble carving of the lesser god, drenching it. Immediately, attention was drawn to the incident - the timing perfect because a second worshiper was emptying the contents of their stomach at the base of one of the towering columns. \n\nThe mixture of nausea from his blight and witnessing others puke set off a domino effect that had the entire crowd getting sick all over the floor. Even Conner, who was unaffected, looked pale, but it was more from his nerves in the moment than anything else." } ]

[ { "author": "Alexios || Conner Donnelly", "message": "Alexios knew that going to war meant casualties on all sides. It meant blood in the streets, hundreds if not thousands of innocent lives lost in the fight to build a better world. No one was safe; men fell on the battlefield while women and children suffered on the sidelines. Places that were supposed to be sanctuaries for the displaced became targets of vengeance. A place like the one he currently stood inside, frozen in shock by its destruction. \n\nEntering the Sanctum had been a shock to his system. What was once a safe haven for refugees of the war had become a tomb desecrated by fire, smothered by ash. \n\nBodies were sprawled out on the floor, charred and still smoking. One in particular caught his attention because the arms were wrapped tightly around what looked like a baby. \n\nAlexios felt each breath leave his body as if it were his last. Just days ago, he had been inside that very building, checking in on supplies, discussing strategy with the people who were running and maintaining the sanctuary. It had been overloaded with refugees to the point that they decided to move some to one of the other sanctums. The Champions had set up a lot of locations for mortals torn apart by the war. \n\nThey were never able to make the move before its destruction.\n\nHundreds of innocent civilians dead before Alexios could even get back. Hundreds of men, women, and children gone in a heartbeat because of his own careless mistake. He should have known the Sanctum wasn't completely safe. Many of the locations were common knowledge because no one usually targeted safe havens for innocent civilians. No one - well, no *Mortal* Casually committed a war crime that could have military leaders or even presidents impeached. \n\nBut the gods didn't care about the laws of mortals. \n\nApproaching the charred woman holding her baby, Alexios knelt down by the body and reached for something he saw half-tucked underneath the remains. When he pulled it out, it squeaked in his hand, and he turned it over, realizing it was a small dragon plushie. It was partially burnt and stained with ashes, but it was still intact unlike everything else in the Sanctum. A children's toy. One that he remembered handing to a little girl as she came to pick up a fresh meal.\n\nHis head dropped and he gritted his teeth to bite back his anger. Hand clenching around the toy, Alexios felt the familiar pang of sorrow seep into his bones, settling next to the same pain he held for losing Jessie, losing his father, his mother. \n\nMany more would suffer before the war's end. Was he doing the right thing?" }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "_ _\n「 𝐏 𝐎 𝐒 𝐄 𝐈 𝐃 𝐎 𝐍. 」\n_ _\n**⊱ ・┆ 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍, 𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐌 𝐎𝐍 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃.**\n_ _\n`SETTING .` A Ransacked Sanctum.\n`CHARACTERS .` Poseidon & Alexios.\n`SYMPHONY .` Vicarious by Tool.\n`PINGS .` \n_ _\n࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ♆\n_ _\n\nThe ruler of Atlantis was inclined to the scent of sea foam, a testament to his prowess. In solitude, he found familiarity in the clearness of the air upon coastal dunes of sand, salty and wistful. To stand amid the residuum of embers provided no gratification of the senses, but a contentment to his pitiless agenda. Never could he find pleasure in the profuse invasion of soot, the only remaining evidence of subdued flames. With distaste, Poseidon's nostrils flared, as if he had not become acquainted with its scent eons ago. Here, beyond sheets of ash that shrouded the earth like a duvet, was a greater and inconceivable thing.\n_ _\nDeath.\n_ _\nIt was his doing, his calculated and confident proposition. Bodies that persisted in unlikely existence became skeletal remains, swallowed in the char of gloom. Poseidon reveled in the resplendence of his kingdom as it occurred, inflicted by the ferocious physicality of Ares. It would be a statement, and the variations of it would not deter from the immorality of its message— Poseidon only made demands of death. To the God of Seas, a passive aversion to the divine discord was not a means to be spared. Mortals of frailty, that hid in the refuge of valorous demigods, were insignificant. His apathy, a parasitic thing that glommed on him from birth, had become gargantuan in strife. The war was the result of time ahead, of his climb to rightful eminence. There would be no skirmish without casualties; where there was a bloodletting, Poseidon would follow.\n_ _\n\nHowever, in the prominent past where his havoc was proclaimed, he would not divulge this atrocity. The blame would be cast on another, and it would be a stepping stone to his triumph— a stone thrown in the courage of the insoluble Alexios.\n_ _\nTo make one's opposition known in such circumstances was uncanny, but to be enveloped in a preserved anonymity confounded Poseidon. The lineage of Alexios was not yet understood, but his lion–hearted resistance was transparent. The swaying beacon of hope that Alexios seemingly upkept amused him, for he questioned if it began to falter by Poseidon's vicious deliverance. Would the demigod weep, with a face that Poseidon did not know, with tears as salted as his own oceans? Would he beg, shaken by contrition? There was a churning belief that the concealed Alexios would not bend so briskly.\n_ _\nSome moments after Alexios had Poseidon approached the sanctum, clad in sardonic black. It was as though he had readied himself for a funeral, only a proper entombment brought more solace than this. There was little closure to be found here. Only a few steps had been taken, past the parted doorway to the warehouse, and once polished loafers were enveloped in dust. An open, flowing overcoat that came down to his knees began to seep in the smell of it all. The foulness of ash and the inexorable stench of death rivaled for the lasting aroma on his clothes. Eyes of an unfeeling concoction of blue and green observed the scene, and he remained expressionless and unafraid. He had seen far too many obscenities to be shaken.\n_ _\n\nThere was a shift, an aversion to his gaze, when the space was notably shared. Not by the wraiths of death, but by a breathing body, rigid in despondency.\n_ _\n\"An act of this nature was unpreventable.\"\n_ _\nThe words were not from the origins of a tender heart, but they were not spoken with a jarring severity. To a mind that was vulnerable, perhaps he was a fortified crutch, a wall to rest one's head. Poseidon was known for tumultuous bitterness or an inscrutable tone, and very little lurked in–between. As it always had been, his voice was a blaring force and it stretched outward, displacing the unsettling silence. He was eyeing the square of the man's back, and the maimed plush that he held in his hand. Poseidon looked to the ceiling, once touched by the ends of flames, and then to the man opposite of him.\n_ _\nThe elder God's shoes were a detected sound, stepping over rubble and what was left of bodies. For a widespread building, swept clean of those that occupied it, the two of them did not exactly feel alone. The man appeared heavy with woe, and the air was flecked with a divinity separate from his own. A demigod, whose blood Poseidon could not determine. He was molded by the grace of humanity, a thing that Poseidon did not share.\n_ _\n\"The most incorrupt are steadily at the center of war.\"\n_ _\nPoseidon looked to the mound of mother and child, declining to blink.\n_ _\n\"Zeus has shown his discontent in many forms.\"\n_ _\nThere was an implication that hid behind his words, and he needn't explain it." }, { "author": "Alexios || Conner Donnelly", "message": "Through the ashes floating on air, over the silenced voices and the innocent lives lost, Conner heard a faint tapping against the marble floors. His back straightened as he recognized the sound of footsteps approaching - slow, and a little too casual rather than the hurried gait of someone who was there to help. Whoever it was, they weren't in a rush to see if there were any survivors. \n\n*\"An act of this nature was unpreventable.\"* \n\nThe voice preceded the stranger and Conner's jaw clenched at the word *Unpreventable.* As if a god had *Accidentally* Walked through the Sanctum and burned it to the ground by breathing too hard. As if attacking refugees who had done nothing was just an act of nature that no one could have stopped. As if they weren't standing in a ruined building surrounded by the scorched bodies of innocent men, women, and children. \n\n*Unpreventable* Was the wrong choice of word. Unpreventable was an excuse monsters liked to use to justify their actions.\n\nTurning his head just slightly to get a view of the stranger in his peripheral vision, Conner felt a chill run through his veins. The voice wasn't recognizable, but the figure that stepped around rubble and over debris was. Muscles tensed with the desire to react, but Conner moved slow and steady and remained calm despite every part of him wanting to turn and fight. It would be stupid to fight. He was no match again the god of the sea. *Poseidon.*\n\nDeep breath. Flying under the radar was what kept him alive for years, so he forced himself back into that mindset. Back into the man hiding his true name from the gods in order to keep himself and those he loved safe. He was in no position to stand alone against Poseidon, but that didn't stop him from voicing his discontent.\n\nHe stood up slow, his head still turned slightly but bowed. Half hidden by the hood over his head, Poseidon would hopefully not get a clear look at his face. He wasn't known yet, but he didn't want to give the god a chance to commit it to memory. \n\n\"You and I will just have to disagree that this was the \"Center\" Of war.\" His voice was low, but steady. Faced with such a terrible crime, it would be difficult for *Anyone* To keep a level head - anyone who gave a shit, anyway - but he managed. \"Whoever did this had to go out of their way to target it. This was a message.\" A message heard loud and clear. Felt in his bones. \n\nThe statement about Zeus was not lost on Conner, and it didn't surprise him. His father's treachery was known by many. The destruction of the Sanctum wouldn't be the first casualty in Conner's fight against him, but it was a huge hit. What he *Didn't* Understand was why Poseidon was even there. His lack of care for humanity was clear and confirmed by Esmeray. There was no reason for him to be lurking around the Sanctum unless he had some sort of plan or ulterior motive. \n\nOr unless . . . He was responsible for it.\n\nEither option seemed fitting, so Conner was on high alert. If Poseidon was there because of the destruction that Zeus wrought, he might have been looking for Alexios to make some sort of deal. No harm in hearing him out. \n\n\"I never thought I would see a god walking among mortals.\" He pocketed the plush, though he wasn't sure why. \"To what do I owe the honor of your company?\" The words felt like poison on his tongue, but he swallowed them anyway. Under the radar. That's where he needed to stay for as long as possible." }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "Poseidon, with an amass of eternities beneath the inscrutable depth of his eyes, had easily recognized the unrest before him. It stirred in the demigod's physique, hardening the makeup of his muscles and stroking the strain of his nerves. The God was the inducer of a polluted and beastly dread, with merit that demanded one's respect and awareness. The earth–shaker was no ghastly lurker, he was no serpentine shape among shadows— unlike his brother, who took to darkness and its innate seclusion, Poseidon embodied the ocean's hue. He was graciously pecked by the sun's persistence, dusted by animated freckles. His eyes detained a saintly shade of blue, as if they were mere globes of the Atlantic. With such coveted traits came the contrast of what rested beneath— a blackness, so malignant that it outweighed what parts of him were fleshly.\n_ _\nHe epitomized the boundless ends of the ocean, with its conundrums and perils. The water that mingled with the pit of the earth was of the same quality to what plodded over his heart.\n_ _\nPoseidon's discerned divinity was what slowed the demigod's advancing posture, but it was something else entirely that steadied him. A scarce courage, and Poseidon did not take his gaze from it. The vivacious heart of a stallion, constrained in the chest of a man.\n_ _\n\nThe mortal spoke, and though his words were brazenly earnest, Poseidon felt that they were restrained. He took his hands and clasped them behind his back, a quiet suggestion that Poseidon would remain still. With his assured build, dressed in black, one might believe him to be a breathless statue. The young man's features were mantled by a hood, and the God settled on its subtle timidity. Were there secrets to find in the crevices of his skin, or a disdain in his eyes? Eyes that have rested upon the fabled Alexios?\n_ _\nWhoever it may be, Poseidon would ensure his own personalized triumph before leaving the ravaged foxhole that was once the cosseted sanctum.\n_ _\n\"A message, yes. That is plain. You do not believe that the lives of the feeble have not been placed at the center of war? You stand before me, among their ash and bone, and disagree? Affliction clouds you— these lives are not the war's cause, but they are its favored casualties. From the inception of time, it has always been this way.\"\n_ _\n\nHe could not evade his own cruelty. Unlike the cloaked man, Poseidon spoke loudly, with a tone that wakened unease. The temper that he famously nurtured, however, could not yet be found. The furrow of his brow, the dire curling of his fist— it had not found a reason to ascend beneath the surface. By the demigod's insistence, with stealth could Poseidon's scales become tipped by petulance.\n_ _\nIn a divided silence, the mutinous cogwheels at the center of the stranger's mind seemingly began to turn. If he looked with intensity, he could snuff out the scent of slaughter in its entirety. Poseidon sustained the mind of a shrewd sage without the mortal signs of decomposition— the hooded man desired from the God, just as Poseidon demanded from him. He was a notably selfish king, yet if the exchange left a savory note on his tongue, Poseidon could become amenable. Amenable within reason, with propositions that would allow him to prosper above all else.\n_ _\nPoseidon eyed the plush that was now taken by the stranger, curious. A choice of compassion that he could not understand, nor imitate. It nearly made him squint, and Poseidon was driven to take a step nearer, enhancing his view. The words were a false nicety, if Poseidon could label them as such— he saw nothing in them but a delayed rehearsal. A bundle of withered supplies separated beneath his shoe, and he proceeded to neglect the building's despondency.\n_ _\n\"You are no common mortal. The blood of man meddles with a lesser divinity inside of you.\"\n_ _\nA remark like a blade, yearning to prick the skin and taste the blood. His expression did not shift, but his tone offered and probed.\n_ _\n\"The message you see was not one–dimensional. It is not only for those who were intended to preserve the welfare of this refuge, but for each headman and their values. For your *Alexios*, despite his inclination to anonymity.\"\n_ _\n||" }, { "author": "Alexios || Conner Donnelly", "message": "Standing in the presence of Poseidon himself would have made normal humans crumble to their knees - *Should* Have humbled any who were in the company of such a powerhouse. He was a force of nature that couldn't be controlled, a strength that couldn't be beaten by mortal hands alone. Every movement he made shook the foundations of belief, and every word he spoke forced fear into the brave. \n\nConner wasn't immune to the fear. It crawled into his skin and burrowed into his muscles, making his body stiff and rigid as he stood before the God of the Ocean, a sea wall staring down an approaching storm. Each moment alone with him grew that fear, but with a touch of anger alongside it. He didn't budge save for the smallest flinch when Poseidon shifted to put his hands behind his back.\n\nWas it bravery or fear that rooted him in place? Or was his bravery a result of feeling the fear by standing his ground? What else could a god take from him after he already lost so much? \n\n\"I believe they don't have to be,\" He said, the strength of the sea wall keeping his voice steady. \"A war between gods doesn't need to be fought on the backs of mortals, yet here we are.\"\n\nThose that suffered the most were those that weren't even involved in the conflict. Casualties of war were common, but that's not what the destruction of the sanctum was. They had not been caught in the way of a godly battle, they had not been at some important location of interest. They were in a safe house meant to house those displaced by the war, and they were specifically targeted. It was a war crime committed to send a message, and the message was that Alexios's efforts had been noticed and were not taken lightly.\n\nConner's back straightened as Poseidon stepped closer, but he still didn't turn. He began to doubt the integrity of his biggest secret; if he turned to face the god, would he notice a resemblance to his own brother? Would he figure out exactly who he was? Poseidon's questions didn't reassure him. \n\n\"Yes,\" He said, simply, wondering if Poseidon's own words were an ode to pride that wouldn't allow him to delve deeper. Zeus was hardly a lesser god, but Conner hoped the belief would drive him away from the scent. \n\n\"Doesn't this message just further fuel Alexios's cause? If Zeus intended for him to cease his involvement, I feel like this might only increase it.\"" } ]

[ { "author": "antichrist2828", "message": "The heavens themselves seemed to cower under the weight of Zeus's fury, the skies darkening with every smoldering thought. As he strode through the echoing halls of Olympus, his footsteps resonated with the force of his ire. The air, charged with the promise of a storm, seemed to crackle with the same raw energy that coursed through him. Each of Poseidon's slights had stoked the fire of his anger, and now it burned with an intensity that could not be contained. The silence that greeted his attempts at diplomacy was a bitter pill, one he refused to swallow. \n\nZeus would wait for no one. His power demanded recognition, and his brother's insolence would be met with the full might of his fury. With a heart hammering like the anvil of Hephaestus, he resolved to confront Poseidon. He would to unleash the tempest of his rage upon what his brother loved if he refused to hear him. He would damage whatever was in his path as Poseidon had done his reputation. A forceful hand forked through his hair, energy flickering at his finger tips. The tension in the air was palpable, a prelude to the clash of titans that loomed on the horizon.\n\nBristling with indignation, Zeus recalled the last time he attempted to approach Poseidon. He turned him away, despite his persistence. Unwilling to speak with him, his brother threw a fit like a child. Quite unkingly, he thought, for someone yearning for the throne. The sun fell that night, and when it rose again, there was a new plan in place. Steeped in deception, a masterstroke fueled by his simmering wrath. He would arrive cloaked as a sailor, nondescript and seasoned by the sea's caprice. His approach would be silent, a shadow amidst the waves, eluding the vigilant gaze of Poseidon's loyal guards. In this clever disguise, Zeus would ensure a private audience with his brother, an opportunity to unleash a promised confrontation that would echo through Olympian. \n\nHe *Almost* Couldn't wait. \n\n—\n\nZeus, master of guile and transformation, shed his celestial form for that of a mariner, weather-beaten and coarse. His divine raiments exchanged for the garb of a common sailor, his skin bore the grime of the sea, and his hair, once kempt and shining, now hung in matted locks, heavy with brine. As he stepped off the creaking boat, the soles of his worn boots met the detritus-strewn sands of Olympian's coast. The pungent stench of salt water snaked into his nostrils, an odor he found most unbearable. \n\nHis eyes, a tempestuous sea of blue, scanned the horizon for his brother, the earth-shaker. With each crashing wave, his heart beat a rhythm of wrathful curiosity, pondering what words would be exchanged upon their fateful meeting. Would Poseidon recognize the fury veiled behind the sailor's guise? Would he sense the electric tension coiling in the air? The anticipation of their encounter was as palpable as the ocean's mist that clung to his weathered skin.\n\nHe meandered near the shore line, searching for Poseidon with a fierce, unforgiving gaze. His feet sunk into the sand with every hurried step, his shoulders risen and tense. When he once knew his brother, he would come to the ocean often to think. He imagined he would need to think now. But with every passing moment, his impatience only grew. The steady creep of waves worked to hush his thoughts. Finding himself tired of searching, for the first time upon his travel, he drew still. His gaze momentarily softened as he scanned the coastline. Then suddenly, he was there. Amidst the hushed whispers of the shore, stood Poseidon. The calm that had once settled in Zeus's gaze now sparked with the familiar flare of betrayal. \n\nThere he was, the brave being who chose to defy him. \n\n—\n\nZeus, cloaked in the guise of a common traveler, edged closer to Poseidon with a deliberate pace. His heart slammed against his ribcage, a wild drumbeat of fury and adrenaline, yet his face was the picture of serenity. A wry smirk pulled at the corners of his lips as he emerged beside his unsuspecting brother. Aligning himself with Poseidon, he adopted a similar pose of quiet contemplation. His hands nonchalantly slipping into his pockets, concealing the tempestuous energy crackling at his fingertips.\n\nThe air around them seemed to thrum with the weight of unspoken thoughts. Above them, the ashen clouds had begun to churn. An electric charge of expectancy built until Zeus, ever the instigator, pierced the quietude with a voice that melded seamlessly with the symphony of the sea's whispers. \n\n\"Quite the view, isn't it?\" There was a pause as he turned to try and catch his gaze, \"The sea and the sky can put on one hell of a show, can't they?\" His smirk replaced itself with a smile as disingenuous his disguise." }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "Poseidon could often be discovered here, standing by the reflective coast. One might say that his movements were predictable in routine if it weren't for his ever–shifting heart. There was seldom a rhyme or reason to it. In Olympian's prospering Metropolis, he curled his nose to it all — the chirps of sardined cars, the futile materialism, the incandescent lights that took the place of stars. Here, there was one thing that would always be his. Forever would he claim the wafting of waves on boundless grains of sand, reaching for him. The ocean murmured to him, in a bygone language that only he knew, and it brought him here. Today, however, he stood with an unplaced purpose. Within him, below that primitive calling of the ocean, was something else. He was meant to be here, at these particular passing minutes, and he could not yet comprehend why.\n⠀\nThere were not many occupying the shore, and fewer could be found in the water. He was not always so fond of mortals in their curious crowds, but it was the innate serenity of the coast that made them the slightest bit tolerable. Even in the most dreaded of storms did his chest rise and fall with an uncommon tranquility. The water was his, and it was his most devout partner. Humans and their presence here came to him, wielded in the form of a double–edged blade. Some valued the water for what it was — a thing of both peace and violence, only to be wisely nurtured. On the other face of the coin, with humanity's inherent sin came wastefulness, littering the beaches and salted seas.\n⠀\n\nIt was not pollution or nonchalant beachgoers that soiled his thoughts, not this time. Now, something greater stood at the pit of his mind, in the shadowy outline of a god. He was reminded of it, now, with eyes of blue that looked above to morose clouds. As the current thrashed with Poseidon's displeasure, the clouds darkened with Zeus's rage. The two of them, for separate reasons, had been angry. Zeus, however, was everywhere. Poseidon could not escape the heavens themselves, for even the sun still leaked through the water.\n ⠀\nPrior to Poseidon's declaration of an irreparable defiance, the two of them had never truly been cordial. Affection and loyalty were fleeting, intangible things. Mutually, they were brothers birthed from violence, with mouths that delivered callous words and hands that only knew fists. Zeus and Poseidon were, debatably, equals. They found similarity in vexation, and like the weather, they could not learn lasting stillness.\n⠀\nHe knew Zeus, and he knew that the thunderous deity would not sit comfortably until Poseidon was addressed. It was far too damaging to his brother's stronghold of an ego, to decline his consultation. What would it matter? Poseidon decided that there was nothing to discuss. There was a time for assembly, and there was a time for unguarded wrath. He had sat in quietude for a moment too long. Poseidon would not be found pacing the floors of his kingdom in discontent. There was work to be done.\n⠀\n\nSome generous length from him, a young girl filed through seashells, bleached by the sun. Her hair was a strawberry blonde, and she placed a cracked one to her ear, yearning to hear the ocean. It seemed that mortals always had their sweet, absurd rituals, even now. Poseidon's head turned from her just as she looked to her father behind her. There was another presence, drawing itself closer to him, and he presumed it was nothing he would deem valuable.\n⠀\n*\"Quite the view, isn't it?\"*\n⠀\nIt came from the opposite direction of the girl with the seashells. His eyes met ones of a similar shade, stricken with the vigor of the tide. When their gaze met, the waves crashed together, and the clouds dared to darken.\n⠀\nSailors were a favored group by Poseidon, touched by his divine grace. If they blessed him on their travels, he would grant them fortune to be found, and a teetering ship to avoid the most vicious of storms. He was seemingly younger than Poseidon in appearance, with skin that had been pecked from an unforeseeable time away from land. What stories a sailor could tell. Yet, this felt like no ordinary mariner. In the depths of his eyes, there was an untapped energy, bountiful in size. Poseidon's head tilted, as if he awaited to be impressed.\n⠀\nThe wind imprinted wrinkles into the button–up of linen that the sea god wore. Far from his feet, the shallow waves brought new shells and sand dollars to the shore. The man spoke, and Poseidon clenched his jaw, bothered by the sky's attention.\n⠀\n\"The tides have been feverish.\" He spoke at a distance, with a voice that was always resolute. The smell of foam and salt delighted him, but there was something in the air that brought an ache to his muscles. \"Sailors must place a higher value on the sea. Isn't that so?\" Poseidon's eyes glared into the shape of the seaman's smile." }, { "author": "antichrist2828", "message": "Zeus stood tall, his eyes shot daggers into the churning waves, piercing them like sharpened knives. Poseidon, ever the coward, stood hidden amongst the sea. Unafraid to meddle with mortals, yet quick to evade his superior. The anticipation in Zeus's heart was palpable, steady and resolute, as he prepared for the impending clash. The air around him thrummed with energy, each heartbeat a drumroll that resonated with the rumble of a distant storm. The sky mirrored his wrath, swirling into a dark and furious grey.\n\n*\"Sailors must place a higher value on the sea. Isn't that so?\"* \n\nZeus, his figure a bastion against the brooding sky, listened intently to the murmurs of Poseidon's voice, carried on the wind and waves. He pondered over his brother's ambition, the audacity of his claim to superiority. Poseidon spoke of sailors' reverence for the sea, their prayers more often cast into its depths than to the skies above. In the quiet storm of his thoughts, he could not help but scoff at his brother's audacity. Poseidon was as the sea is to the sky—forever bound to the earth, his realm a mere shadow beneath the firmament of Zeus's rule. As they stood shoulder to shoulder, he felt the disparity between them; a world apart, he was confined and subordinate. \n\nIn the silence, Zeus's mind thundered with unspoken contempt, his gaze fixed beyond the horizon, where his power, like the sky, knew no bounds.\n\nStill cloaked in the guise of a sailor, he felt the weight of Poseidon's gaze, a silent challenge flickering behind the sea god's eyes. Their locked stares were laden with an intensity no mortal could withstand, a storm brewing in the quiet before the fury. Inside Zeus, a searing anger ignited, flames licking at his heart, the anticipation of his impending revelation simmering like a volcano on the brink of eruption. And then, with the power of thunder rumbling in his voice, he spoke.\n\n—\n\n\"Even the sailors know who's *King*,\" Zeus hissed, his voice a serrated whisper that sliced through the quiet. Each syllable was a barb, hurled with disdain, as if Poseidon were nothing before him.\n\nSuddenly, the air was crackling with an electric charge. The sailor's form began to twist and contort, a spectacle unfolding before the eyes of the awestruck onlookers. The winds picked up, howling like the furies as the transformation erupted. His form elongated, and his stature soared towards the heavens. The cloak of humanity fell away, revealing the divine majesty of Zeus, his eyes blazing with the fury of a thousand storms.\n\nAs he relinquished his celestial form, the firmament above mirrored his transition. Distant thunder rumbled like the drums of war, heralding the god's simmering wrath. Lightning flickered across his form, an indelible mark of his divine essence. There he stood, a figure of awe-inspiring potency, the storm's crescendo a testament to his unyielding spirit. The charged air awaited his command, a silent overture before the symphony of the gods would resume.\n\n\"What? Cat got your tongue, brother?\" He stepped forward now, \"You may only run for so long.\"" }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "The mariner scrutinized the fluctuation of the waves as if he detested their proximity. It perplexed the earth–shaker, as if a fleshly body should not dare to shun what the gods have presented. Poseidon's sanctity was a weight like no other, with the density of welded armor strapped to a weak man's back. Lesser gods felt it, and were reminded of their own might, brittle when it stood on its lonesome. When he stood among men, Poseidon stimulated the rapid beating of uncertain hearts. His gaze could scarcely be neglected, and the recollection of him was kept through the remaining course of time. The god's regard for others should have been a souvenir. Mortals could not always place the origins in which he derived from, but his power was known. It stole breaths and coaxed tears.\n⠀\nA shoulder's length away, the human of the ocean did not weaken beneath Poseidon's force. His bearing remained noble, and his eyes were zealous with an untold purpose. Poseidon yearned to reach within the young man's chest and take his heart, until it no longer pattered in confidence. Such courage was blasphemous.\n⠀\nThe sky had been in a long–lasting scuffle of luminosity, but it seemed to surrender to the arrival of clouds, as gray as smoke. Beachcombers and sanderlings alike were discouraged by such shifts— flitting birds, however, sensed a greater darkness to evade. Disheartened beach–goers would gradually gather their garments and head for land, but the gods would not halt their duties to ensure their safety. If sand was to be sprayed with blood rather than salt, so be it.\n⠀\n\nPoseidon, steadily, began to see his brother in the psyche of the seafarer. Their eyes did not bear a similar shade or shape, but they were fervid with a zeal that Poseidon could not stomach. Zeus, a face that was far too intimate despite their avoidance, was now present in his mind. Was the man given Zeus's good fortune, with the measly task of catering Poseidon's enraged flame? Mortals could be casualties and pawn pieces alike. He wished to remind the seaman of the severity of a sea storm, to ensnare him in a whirlpool that did not cease from churning him to bits. The man and his brother were a blur, now. His great illusion was lost on Poseidon, until he spoke in an inflection that could only belong to one. The piteous ruler of the gods.\n⠀\nThe pounding of thunder entwined with the whistling of air, and Poseidon stood stiffly as a witness of such transformation, unafraid. He was still with rage. His revered blood ran as cold as the arctic sea, and his eyes darkened with Zeus's commanded clouds. It had been his brother. Their souls had been reunited without Poseidon's consent, and the headman of the tides was upsetting the water without thought. His unrestrained temper was provoking the seas and the creatures that lurked beneath them. Sharks smelt for distant blood, fish scurried from the direction of hostile waves. Their god was angry, and he would not spare any life.\n⠀\nZeus shed his dull rags for a cloak of truth, and Poseidon recoiled at the sight of his face. Never would it leave him, and such an act of deceit fed the god's ambitions for the throne. The ruler of Olympia was dressed in hissing flashes of lightning. He challenged Poseidon in the delight of his own domain, beckoning to pollute the only place that he could find peace. Poseidon would not allow it.\n⠀\n\nPoseidon retreated with one step to the water, and the tide had risen with such haste that it was pulling away the trinkets of humans. His jaw clenched, and with a slight curl of his fingers, the waters moved with it. \"*Zeus*. You dare to approach me, *Here*? Hidden, shrunken under the guise of a feeble mortal?\" His unfastened emotions forced the twitching of a grimace on his features, brought to fruition in disbelief.\n⠀\nThe residents of the coast began to quiver, teetering between a frigid fear and unfathomable greatness. Limbs that longed to run were weighted by the sight, akin to the glory of angels descending from the heavens. Only these were no angels.\n⠀\n\"You are the unchanged coward that you have always been. I do not run from you, brother. You wish to speak when no words remain for you on my tongue. Only initiative remains, that of which you lack.\" The waves were gargantuan and monstrous, now, and coming down with severity. At his desire, strands of water began to morph with a serpentine structure, winding around him and lifting him from the earth. The organic physics of water bent at his will, and it whispered to him as if it longed for his requests.\n⠀\nHis physical form nearly shook with pulsating fury. There was no time to groom for the destruction to come, but Poseidon was, seemingly, always anticipating it. \"A god that comes to me in the skin of a sheep is no king.\"" }, { "author": "antichrist2828", "message": "Zeus's gaze met Poseidon's, ablaze with the wrath of a legion and something horribly rotten within him. The deep repugnance he felt for his brother clawed at his core, there was no cure for it. Not until Poseidon was plucked from the ocean, and discarded rightfully. The disdain in his brother's eye was an insolent glimmer of challenge. He watched Poseidon sink towards the sea, and as if it was a taunt, he took a sharp step forward.\n\nThis contempt, this betrayal, it did not weaken him; rather, it ignited an inferno of rage unknown to even him. He watched the tide rise before him, and in return a storm rolled in, forming far too close for mortal comfort. At his command, the clouds deepened in color, thick bolts of lightening forked throughout them. The air, charged with electricity, teased his skin with warmth, and in the prelude of the clash, Poseidon spoke. \n\nHis brother, ever the instigator, behaved like a man with nothing to lose. With every word there was deepening anger, a fire blazed in his chest. With eyes deep as earth, for a moment he was still. Stiff against the horizon, lightening flickered at his finger tips. Unstable as he remembered him, he watched Poseidon unravel. \n\nPathetic, and all too familiar. \n\n\"I am the coward?\" His words were followed by a scoff, \"Look at you now. You shrink before where you feel safe. You mope around like a mutt that likes to be kicked.\"\n \nAt the behest of Zeus, the winds rose with fervor, twisting the clouds into dark funnels that swallowed mortals and burrowed into the sand. And there, at the heart of the tumult, Zeus ascended. With a wild heart and a hunger for vengeance, he listened as thunder boomed in the distance. The echoes of it ghosted throughout his veins, each rumble pumping with his blood. Before him was only a boy, brimming with emotion and far too much time on his hands. He was a pitiful image of a sea king, let alone one to lead the Gods. \n\n—\n\n\"*Poseidon.* King of a fraction of what is beneath me. Always confined to earth like the bottom feeder we know you to be.\" \n\nWith challenging fury, Zeus unleashed the strength of the storm. The heavens split open, and torrential rains came lashing towards the earth. The wind, a sudden frenzied creature, roared to them. Its breath twisted through the sand, uprooting all that dared to stand in its path. Lightning fractured the sky, a spiderweb of anger to cast over the beach in stark, flashing silhouettes. \n\n\"Did you forget yourself? Brother, I have *Never* Feared you. Your whole life you have wished to be better than me. Remember, *I* Am the reason you stand here now. Every morning you should thank me. Without *Me,* The sea would not belong to you. You would be nothing.\" \n\nHe corrected himself. \n\n\"You *Are* Nothing.\"\n\nWithout further warning, Zeus would strike. The air crackled with tension as he clenched his fist, extending an arm towards what he aimed demolish. From the brooding tempest above, a lightning bolt was born. Swift, fierce, and scornful. Crackling with unbridled fervor, it tore through the air like a beast hungry for flesh. Its jagged edges glowing with fury, ready to strike with a force to shatter all tranquility. In his face he showed no mercy, before him was what he planned to destroy. \n\nUntil then, he could not be satisfied" }, { "author": "ps * ~ Poseidon", "message": "*The sea and the sky can put on one hell of a show, can't they?*\n_ _\nIt was once spoken on the fervid tongue of the charlatan sailor, and though Poseidon did not favor the sky's likeness to the sea, it could not be denied. If Poseidon and Zeus were to stand among men, rid of the smokescreen of mortality, then an execution of savagery would they witness. A sanctitude of theirs, however, could not be safely observed. One could not witness the wrath of a God and turn from it, unscathed and settled. Divinity was pestilential to mankind's inherent weakness. Abhorrence, like a cancer, waded throughout him and his relentless seas. The anguish of Zeus would not be enough— Poseidon yearned for what he always did, from the distant genesis of time.\n_ _\nIt would be the day that humanity's abominable, modern society would know the twist of a true horror. The earth–shaker, lord of horses, patriarch of seas— Poseidon would be known, in the tallying of bodies and the pollution of water. Men would know who it is that they must pray to.\n_ _\n\nIn the eyes of Zeus, there was a reflector of shared aversion. In such aversion, the two brothers were swindled of seeing their similarities— perhaps it was a willful ignorance, to not understand one another. The ocean's altered tide lifted him ardently, and with irony did such heights bring him closer to Zeus's own skies. Misshapen clouds were bordering on the hollow hues of blackness, as void as the uncharted pits of the sea. With each dash of lightning, Poseidon was certain that he could see its gleam in the restlessness of his brother's eyes. Zeus was blistering with heat, and Poseidon was disconcertingly chilled.\n_ _\n\"You lack the spine to have come to me maskless. I stand in my own domain, and you wish to *Provoke* Me. You are more akin to the seaman than you know. A rambler that has regretfully pulled away from his course, and trekked in dire territory.\"\n_ _\nThe young girl who had spent her time accumulating seashells was now cradled in the arms of her father. If Poseidon held interest, he would see that each bleached shell had been scattered involuntarily about the sand. She held him with such might that her skin had gone pale, and her complexion was flushed by the commotion of tears. As anticipated, her father wished to flee, but was preserved in the awe of the divine. His limbs were leaden, and the mass of the Gods was tenfold. Naivety, endearment, and trust— Poseidon lacked such virtues, and would drain it from the occupants of the shore. He peered down to the girl, decisive.\n_ _\n\n\"I will not attend to the prayers of men, nor will I pardon any that have come here.\"\n_ _\nThen came the water.\n_ _\nIn some contorted absurdity, the Fates must have been amused. The water came, from sea and sky the same. His voice, of an amplitude that would sway the mortal mind, emulated a clap of thunder as he spoke. It exceeded the bellow of the winds, and rang like a chime of death.\n_ _\nThe rain pelted the weaker flesh, and the ocean thrusted to the seaside with the dread of a tsunami. Poseidon's skin was misted by it all, and soon, he was saturated— it dripped from him, flattening his hair and dousing his clothes. In this form, he recklessly balanced the familiarity of the storm and the thrashing of fury. His seas, without charity, enveloped the fright–stricken humans, impotent to the force of the tide. The consistency of lightning had become a faulty lighthouse, failing to have ushered them to safety.\n_ _\nA great bolt, concocted by Zeus with intent, probed the waters and shook him. It arrived with the potency of such detestable declarations, and Poseidon glowered, eyes wide with the nourishment of violence.\n_ _\n\"I do not *Wish*! I am!\"\n_ _\n\nLimbs were taken by the sea, and could not stay afloat to receive the treasures of air. With the upsurge of his rage, the earth began to quake.\n_ _\n\"There, that is your damning defect. You cling to what you believe that you have earned! Eons have passed, and yet you are halted by entitlement. No longer will you be granted respite from me— this earth that I hold dominion over, it will know that you are no longer worthy of reverence.\"\n_ _\nThe energy of electricity came against the ocean, and the wind graciously assisted the current. From afar, buildings quivered and hearts hastened by an omen they would soon know.\n_ _\nPoseidon spat, the salt–meddled seawater fluctuating around his form.\n_ _\n\"You are a ludicrous stain on the value of Godlihood. Mortals shall utter hymns of your annihilation.\"\n_ _\n||" } ]

[ { "author": "demiurgical", "message": "Every bite is a masterpiece." }, { "author": "HYACINTHUS ", "message": "Accepting Alastor's invitation to learn how to bake, Hyacinthus was wrought with nerves as he made his way to the man's home. While their initial meeting became a playful rapport that took the god out of his comfort zone, the unshakeable feeling of inadequacy he felt amongst others wasn't easy to ignore. Alastor, however, radiated power and confidence in a way Hyacinthus had never felt or seen before. Whether or not his new friend knew it, he had done wonders for helping put a pep in the young god's step. \n\nIn the dimly lit kitchen of Alastor's home, Hyacinthus cracked two eggs into a bowl as Alastor stood beside him. The man's gaze was intense and intimidating, but brought a sense of safety in a jarringly addictive way that made him curious. Unlike him, Alastor wasn't an easy person to suss out, and given that Hyacinthus didn't have many friends these days, there was always the possibility that he was simply being toyed with through pity...\n\nHe reached for the flour but paused as two arms stretched across the counter and blocked his path. Alastor had reached for the bag at the same time, offering that dark gaze to Hyacinthus who withdrew his arms and let them drop by his side. With a shy smile, the young god snickered, then moved the bowl of eggs closer for Alastor to add the flour to. \n\n**\"Sorry Alastor,\"** He said kindly. **\"Maybe I'm getting too ahead of myself. I'm not actually sure what comes first,\"** Hyacinthus pouted. **\"The eggs or the flour. I actually used to bake with my mother before I was taken by Apollo to Olympus. That seems like so long ago,\"** His voice was barely above a whisper as he recanted the memory with a glum disposition. **\"When I had a family.\"**\n\nHe went quiet as he placed a hand on the countertop which trembled slightly while reaching for the sugar. Once a prince that was beloved by his people, Hyacinthus remembered the times of old, when his father would proudly dote and celebrate all his achievements, and when the citizens of Amyclae excitedly anticipated his succession of the throne. But gone were those happy times, replaced by a deep cavern in his heart. \n\nNowadays, Hyacinthus barely found the drive to do little more than oversee the natural cycle of nature's decay and rebirth. As far as responsibilities went, he was happy to serve at Demeter's appraisal, but did little else outside of that. Since being taken by Apollo and made immortal, he had become adrift and spiritually lost - no close family to guide him, and no friends outside of Ganymede to call his own.\n\nHe nervously riddled with the sugar pot and quietly panicked as he began to open the lid, his breath hitching as it became clear he was too lost in his thoughts to focus. Suddenly, it popped off and the pot of sugar tipped over, white crystals engulfing the counter in a small spill of white. **\"Sorry Alastor,\"** He said glumly, but politely. **\"I'll clean that up right away. I suppose I don't really fit in with all of you.\"**\n\nHe helplessly shovelled piles of sugar into his hand, scooping it back into the pot, only for more to spill over the counter and onto the tiled floor with each swipe. Slowly, Hyacinthus let go of the sugar pot and looked up at Alastor with melancholy eyes, realising that even the simplest tasks had somehow become a challenge.\n\n**\"I grew up in Sparta,\"** He admitted, humiliation taking grip of him as his cheeks flushed a shade of pink. **\"Back then, I wasn't allowed to be in the kitchen. But my mum used to sneak me in. I think I'm really bad at this.\"**\n\n||" }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "The taller God watched the other carefully, though since this was his time to learn, there wasn't much he wanted to say that wouod distract him. Alastor let Hyacinthus work as he pleased, though it seemed the golden boy had a way of making memory as flighty as birds. One moment the thought was there and in nearly the same moment it was gone.\nHis gaze settled on the God of Rebirth. Even though his eyebrows were pinched ever so slightly in that center, his eyes held no scrutiny.\n\n**\"At some point or another you will have to remember which comes first, depending on what cake you are making. Though there is really no reason to try to memorize it if you cannot. Recipe books do exist. As much as they teach that memorizing is learning... Application is more important than memorization. \nIn any case, all the ingredients will come to together regardless when it is time to put the cake batter in the pan.\"** \n\nAlastor spoke matter of factly, attempting to alleviate the pressure that Hyacinthus was currently feeling. Though, more feelings were coating his skin like honey, making it hard for him to do much of anything. The small nervous titter in his hands didn't go unnoticed. \n\nHe paused Hyacinthus' movements of swiping against the counter, turning his head with a finger to meet his gaze. \nHe knew that Hya was internalizing a lot of guilt at that moment, however misplaced it was.\n\n**\"There will always be new things to conquer and experience, but of all those trials, you must not be afraid to make mistakes. \nLearning is not linear and you must always start from square one in order to progress. \nLeave the sugar on the counter, make a mess. \nYour task is not to be perfect. If you were perfect you would not need me to teach you. We will worry about mess at a later time. Be bad now, so you can be good at it later.\"** \n\nAlastor's hand dropped away. \n**\"Since you already have eggs in the bowl, you will want the sugar and the vanilla and what other spices there are in there. We will put\n\nThe flour and baking powder in a separate bowl.\"** \n\nThe God of Retribution grasped the edge of a different, clean, mixing bowl. \nHe was silent momentarily as Hyacinthus caught up to what he was to be doing. \n\n**\"I apparently had a family at one point. Though, I do not remember them. It is probably for the better. Those who look back to the past are missing every step they take as they walk forward.\"**" }, { "author": "Hyacinthus ", "message": "He may have been associated with notions of clarity, truth, and memory, but Hyacinthus was immortalised at a more tender age than Alastor; unlike the other gods, he had lived as a mortal and knew firsthand what it was like to be human, though that was many moons ago. He held power over history as it lived in the memory of others, but sometimes struggled with his own. \n\nAlastor, however, made *Everything* Look easy; he was, amongst other things, cerebral, confident, and capable. In stark contrast, Hyacinthus had buried years of honest experience beneath layers of fallacy, beholden to fit the expectations of others. Accustomed to being the plaything of those more powerful, he had become used to allowing others to dictate who he was and the idea of self-determinism had become alien to him. \n\n**\"You're right,\"** He said with a little more life in his soft voice. **\"Everything will be ok. I could easily just pluck the knowledge of how to bake like an expert out of the zeitgeist, but then it wouldn't be true.\"** \n\nAs Alastor held his swiping hands still, Hyacinthus' head was turned by one of his fingers to face him. The taller god looked down at him with a healing sense of wisdom and calm, which pacified the boy's panic, and beckoned his violet eyes to his dark ones, paralysing them in a soothing gaze while Alastor spoke.\n\nHyacinthus was quiet as he nodded but listened carefully to each word. There was a stylish honesty to the way Alastor spoke which cut through the minutiae of worry like a hot knife through butter, leaving his smaller companion inspired and determined. Whether that was for his own sake or to impress Alastor he wasn't quite certain, but he knew deep down that he was right. It was time to accept that even immortal creatures could never be perfect, even if they had lived a lifetime being cherished and loved for being so. \n\nWhen Alastor moved his hands and reached for the mixing bowl, Hyacinthus cast his violet eyes to the spilt sugar and smiled faintly, then darted them to watch everything the taller god was doing. \n\n**\"I can do that.\"** He said agreeably as he added the right amount of spoonfuls of sugar to the bowl with the eggs, followed by the prescribed measurements of vanilla and other assorted spices. \n\nHe tapped the little spoon against the bowl and listened while Alastor recanted his history, his eyes softening as he empathised. There was a lot that Hyacinthus had forgotten over the years about his early life, which he seemed so estranged from now. \n\n**\"I think you're right,\"** He smiled. **\"Can I please ask you a question, Alastor?\"**" }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "Alastor saw Hyacinthus as having more potential than he gave himself. He down played himself to fit the expectation of others, to be palatable to the Gods, as if he wasn't a God himself. Alastor wondered what he was like before he died. Every time he tried to remember, it was like his memory was a VHS tape that someone had recorded of an ATV championship over a wedding ceremony. In his case, it was Hercules, the knife in his hand, driving into him and then darkness. Death. There was some time missing in the beginning of his godhood, like how his soul manifested, powerfully, from the river and transformed into something more. He was a symbol of unrest. \nThe God of Retribution watched Hyacinthus work, while not really seeing what he was doing. It didn't register on his face, or in his gaze. It was never a far away look that Alastor got when he was thinking. It was the gleam of being present, his mind at work, yet not there. \nHe could really use a cigarette right about now. \n\nThe spoon resounding against the tempered glass bowl brought Alastor back with a slow start, as if he'd been doing nothing but monitoring and staying as hands off as possible in order to allow the other God to learn. \nThe smile that pulled along Hyacinthus' mouth was nearly innocent, perhaps even a little more bold than before. Safe. That wasn't a word that he often attributed himself to in any situation, but being a figurehead of justice, there was some safety in a solid foundation. \nAlastor idly straightened out his arms to place the heels of his palms to the edge of the counter, a sharp eyebrow ticking up as he considered his student. \n\n**\"Depending on the context of your question, perhaps.\"** He gave an easy smile of his own, entertained by his own coy nature. **\"Please, proceed.\"**" }, { "author": "Hyacinthus", "message": "His beginnings, while not grounded in divinity, still contained all the trimmings of certain notoriety. Hyacinthus was the son of a Muse and consequently a minor deity of Chthonic background; it was hardly something to brag about, however, as the wealth and power of his mortal life overshadowed whatever godhood he had been afforded by birth. A prince of Sparta, destined to follow a path pre-destined for him, only to become the plaything of something, of *Someone* Greater. \n\nWas it truly any different than what could have been? He was never cut for war, much less the dangerous games of men who saw him as nothing more than their pawn.\n\nThankfully, Alastor had preheated the oven and prepared the cake tin before the younger god's arrival, leaving only the dry ingredients that needed to be combined in a separate bowl from the eggs, spices, butter, and sugar. The smaller god reached for the clean bowl and turned his face toward the other god once more, tipping his head back and looking up at him for an indication that he'd weighed the flour and baking powder correctly, and was ready to combine them.\n\nIt was clear, however, in the man's present yet unnervingly absent disposition, that his mind was simply elsewhere. Hyacinthus quickly looked away, casting aside the remnants of doubt about his task, and poured the correct amount of flour and baking powder into the clean bowl, slowly mixing it together in silence. He was certainly a god, but the trials of youth, with all its uncertainty, still saw him adhere to the unwritten boundaries of decency. \n\nAlastor was thinking, and he did not want to disturb that.\n\nWhen he *Did* Come to, Hyacinthus was still wearing his warm, winsome smile. The ingredients were ready to combine wet with dry, and the smaller god was somewhat more spritely than before, his confidence simmering as Alastor's inspiring words stirred something in him. He waited for the man to answer him, his eyes darting to his hands as the heels pressed against the edge of the counter, then slowly trailed them up to Alastor's face.\n\n**\"Were you always a god? And if not, do you ever miss your family?\"** He asked, a little frightened about his response. **\"I mean, I know that's a stupid question, I just mean that I used to have so much, and you would think that with what Apollo gave to me, I'd have even more.\"** His violet eyes burned with an inquisitive timidness, but quickly darted away to fixate on the bowl, where he idly sifted flour through his fingers.\n\n**\"I don't understand why he didn't just let me die. I know what you said about making my own path... But I don't really have anything else to do here. Everything I ever wanted and the person I once was are gone.\"**\n\nHe misjudged the power of his own introspection, quickly swallowing his words and the lump that formed in his throat. In a snap, he turned away from Alastor and reached for the other bowl, hurriedly taking the large metal spoon beside it to combine the ingredients with haste. **\"I can't believe how quickly time is going,\"** He said with a chuckle, his breath hitching. **\"I suppose making a cake is a lot easier than I thought.\"**\n\nHe kept his back to him, widening his wet eyes, feeling the sting of air as it dried them. Then he went still, his wrist jittering as he held the spoon perpendicular to the bowl. \n\n**\"I lied, Alastor,\"** He said quietly. **\"I really don't think it's ever going to be alright.\"**" }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "The God of Retribution watched the man as if he were a flower, wilting before his very eyes; unable to survive the frigid temperatures that came with abandonment. Petals of his resolve were weak, and the roots of his confidence were drowning in the storms from a time past. Those waves crashed into violet hues, threatening to overtake Hyacinthus. \n\nAlastor was quiet, seemingly unphased. Instead of water, his own memories were filled with blood. Blood in his lungs, blood in his mouth, his hands, and dark. A darkness so empty that the color black would be jealous.\nIn that darkness lay a well of hatred, so still so as to not be seen - waiting to claim a victim. \n\n**\"I have no memory, and if I did, it wouldn't serve me in what my goals are now. \nMy view of life itself is very different from your own. I was given a gift, as were you. Another chance, and the real questions are: will you continue to waste it on who you are not and those who don't deserve it? Or will you make it worth while for yourself? \nYou must clear your \"House\" - your mind, your soul, your heart - before you can truly move into it. Have a garage sale or put it all it a burn pit and light it ablaze.\n*Don't* Carry the weight of something you can never change.\"**\n\nAlastor's voice carried the tonality of a lawyer, edged with silk to soften the sharp connotations of the spade helping Hyacinthus dig the grave of his \"Old\" Self.\n\n**\"It will be alright if you make it from scratch - much like this cake. You may not have anything to start with, but make a list, prepare.\"** \n\nThe taller grazed his thumb over Hyacinthus' cheek, softly turning his head to\n\nMeet his gaze. \n\n**\"Before you say you will try - I implore that you do not say you will try for me. Change starts here-\"** Alastor placed his other hand to Hyacinthus' chest, letting him feel that he felt his heart beating there. \n**\"-and you will do it for yourself.\"**\n\nAlastor stepped behind Hyacinthus, placing his hands now over the other God's and helping him stir the remaining ingredients, combining the wet an dry until they were batter. That that batter was divided between two cake pans.\n\n**\"Once those are in the oven and they are baking, I have been thinking... I propose we do a cream center.\"** \nAlastor gave the other man a soft, impassioned smile." }, { "author": "@ Hyacinthus", "message": "Alastor's words were delivered like silk, but carried the weight of worlds. His wisdom was razor-sharp as his wit, balanced with gentility into a perfect storm of clarity that rained down on the smaller god like a shower of understanding. His stillness, though unnerving, began to seem oddly comforting, and Hyacinthus knew that despite Alastor's distaste for unruly emotional disruptions, he did care in his own way. \n\nHe disclosed little about the details of his former life, and while the violet-eyed boy in front of him longed for just a flicker of it, he was glad to have been given even a glimpse. He contemplated the poised man's words silently as he gently nodded, wondering what would change if he too embodied Alastor's resolve. In his rebirth after death, Hyacinthus vowed to never give up on love, be it for another, nor for life itself. Somewhere, between the pain of loss and heartache, he had forgotten his own promise to himself.\n\nHis purple eyes flickered with a sudden burst of inspiration, feeling Alastor's certainty and assuredness hit him with the force of a freight train. The man's hand moved to the young god's chest and pressed flat against his heart, where the rhythm of its beat could be felt vibrating softly through his palm and fingers. \n\n**\"I understand, Alastor. I will do it,\"** He whispered with a little touch of misery in his voice and sniffled, then looked up at him with a promising glance as the god guided his gaze to him with a gentle turn of his head. **\"For me. I want to do it for me.\"** \n\nAs the pad of Alastor's thumb grazed his cheek, he felt the sting of tears against his flushed cheeks fade, much like the emotions that stirred deep inside him. There was a comforting feeling of safety that washed over him in that moment, not only because of the man's thoughtful reassurance, but also his sense of self. It spoke volumes to the impressionable Hyacinthus, who by then had calmed some and swallowed his upset in the security Alastor's physical proximity instilled in him.\n\nHe took a deep breath as the god moved to stand behind him, the back of his head brushing against the taller man's chest. Alastor's arms soon rested atop his, followed by his larger hands that clamped against Hyacinthus' own and began to assist him in stirring the remaining ingredients. For a moment there was silence as he reflected on his encouraging words, until eventually, the ingredients became a batter, and was then separated into two separate cake tins. \n\nHis smile returned, much like the birdsong that ushered in the first portents of spring in the wet season when Winter had run its course. In his heart he knew that his sorrow was born from temporary dissatisfaction, and that only *He* Had the power to change it. For better or for worse, that is exactly what he intended to do.\n\n**\"I would like that very much.\"** He said sweetly, returning Alastor's enthusiastic smile as his breath hitched, enjoying how he enshrouded him. **\"Maybe I should ask how much cream you're going to put in,\"** He whispered and tilted his head back, looking up at the man's dark features, his visage now upside-down. The taller god's clever innuendo was certainly not wasted. **\"But I really love surprises too.\"**" }, { "author": "Alastor", "message": "Alastor tilted his head to look around the other, finding his face. He was too adorable to be upset. \nAlastor knew the reality of emotions was that it didn't matter how beautiful one was, if one couldn't even percieve it.\nThe God of Retribution was content by this answer of new found desire, and he wondered briefly if making any sort of move on the smaller God was considered taking advantage of his vulnerability. He'd skirt that for now, easing the cake pans in the oven without so much as touching them. The shadows would do it for him. A construct in the form of a person, only slightly resembling the taller God, himself opened the oven and placed both pans in. Ofcourse a timer was set. They'd need it.\n\nHyacinthus' eyes found him, head leveled back to catch sight of Alastor. The taller God's hand, on impulse, found it's way to the smaller's neck. His fingers lead in the caress, palm just barely gliding along the plane and up his jaw and chin. \nHis other hand slipped down to the God of Rebirth's hip, over the front of his pelvis. He was directed to tilt his hips back, his bottom finding the inseam of Alastor's slacks... Attentive.\n\n**\"I'm certain you'll find out...\"** He mumured against the shell of Hya's ear. \n\n||" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "A sophisticated parlor within Tyche's Gambit is dedicated to the god Palaemon, associated with games of skill and strategy. The Palaemon Poker Parlor is a haven for gods who enjoy strategic card games and engage in high-stakes competitions, blending skill with the whims of fortune." }, { "author": "Andros Vairnon", "message": "** **\n*The sun seemed to shine down on that son of Pan, as he made his way outside his room. It was not often that he would leave the vicinity of the hotel, and yet this was one of the few things he truly enjoyed doing ever since that one faithful day. It didn't matter what time it was nor what day it was, he remembered the features of the man who had granted him an entirely new view on the world. However, not all was well for the young man, as his brown eyes seemed to assess the crowd that moved near him. His teeth seemed almost forced to bite down on his lips, causing him to feel that faint metallic taste of blood that he had tasted so frequently. It was a bad habit, however one that he was unable to stop, after all it seemed prevalent when he was forced to speak to others, or when he wished to escape the choking grasp of a crowd. Dreading the horror of the possibility that one would try to talk to him, after all it had happened before, tourists wishing to know directions, or beggars asking for money.*\n\n*However, all of those thoughts seemed to disappear as he arrived within the Poker Parlour of Palaemon. It was an establishment that he had visited before, after all, even before Helios had granted him powers far beyond what he could imagine, he had a knack for gambling. Cards, numbers, probability, that all seemed to make sense to him, and where many saw a game of pure luck, he had seen that it was not truly luck. Such gives way for him to stop thinking about the dreaded possibility of talking to people, and instead he could further his training in order to control his powers. A faint smile seemed to grace his features as he thought about such.*\n\n** **\n*His thoughts unfortunately were interrupted too soon, as he watched those sitting at the table, there were three additional chairs, beyond that chair of his, and he seemed to assess every one of his opponents carefully. A woman with blonde hair that reached towards her back and eyes as green as emeralds sat closest to him, on his left. On her left, a man with curly hair, reaching towards his shoulders, and a goatee. His eyes were just as green, but he seemed to be far more sympathetic than the woman. Though that didn't mean that Andros wouldn't wish to crush him anyway. This was about more than just pleasure for him, this was what he needed to do. On Andros's right sat a man with black hair and brown eyes, though that is where the similarities between them stopped, where Andros was thin, that man was muscular, almost frightening for the shorter man.*\n\n** **\n*However, there were only a few moments of complete silence, before the cards were dealt, and the game had begun. The chips lay on the table in a bet of exactly 5,000 USD. However, the cards dealt to Andros were shit, beyond shit even, after all he had received a club 2 and a seven of hearts. But unlike most people, Andros was not worried, instead his facial expression seemed almost deadpan, as he observed his opponents. Most would have perceived it as him letting his gaze wander through the group, nervous and timid. But Andros observed, however he didn't observe others, instead he observed what would happen. Before his eyes flashed, the hands of the man with that curly hair, and how he had been favoured by Fortuna and how his luck would turn around. The blond woman who too had been dealt the worst odds, and who would continue to receive those terrible odds, and the muscular man who was cheating. Andros smiled as the game began, and he was not about to allow himself to lose with that gift he was bestowed. But he knew one thing, he would not allow that man with the curly hair to walk out with any of his chips.*" }, { "author": "Orion", "message": "Orion was a frequent visitor of Palaemon's, to the point where people greeted him by name or shot him annoyed scowls based on his previous interactions with them. He enjoyed testing his luck to see just where it would take him. Some days, it was absolute shit, and other days, he had a payout big enough to let him splurge on a weekend in Vegas if he wished. It was never consistent, always unpredictable, but it was the thrill of the unknown that got him going. \n\nThis day was no different, except for the fact he found himself in a situation that he should have known better than to get himself into. He sat himself down at the table, making three. A dark-haired, pretty-boy fellow who looked like he wouldn't speak more than five words and a blonde who exuded confidence, Christi. He had played her before, as she was a regular of the joint just as much as he was. \"Think you'll beat me this time, Chris?\" He asked with a cheeky smile as his foot bumped hers, only to feel the pain shoot up his leg when she dug her stiletto into his foot. He hissed in pain, tilting his set of cards down as he bent to rub the outside of his shoe as if it would soothe the pain. *\"Focus on the game, will ya Orion?\"* She shot back. Snark, he loved that in her. \n_ _\n\nThe dealer shot him a look that told him to stop screwing around and he slumped in his seat a bit as a raspberry left his lips. He looked at his deck and forced himself to keep his expression straight, despite the excited twitch in the corner of his lips. He must have gained the favor of Tykhe as he stared at the royal flush in his hands. There was no doubt some of his haters would say that he cheated somehow. It was his lucky day! Especially since he was short a couple hundred in the $5,000 bet. He straightened up a bit as they started to play, his shoulders relaxed as he watched as the cards were placed down.\n\nHe played it cool, starting from the lower value to not give himself away. He looked up, his green orbs bouncing between Christi and the nameless brunette. However, his eyes couldn't help but squint his way. He had a feeling that had been bugging him for a while now, a tingling sensation that ran up his arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps under his sleeves. *Interesting.*\n\n\"Let's have fun, shall we?\" He smiled at him as he played his first card, a 10 of Hearts." }, { "author": "Andros Vairnon", "message": "** **\n*He disliked the man with those curly hair, a cocky man who had much more experience in playing poker than he did, but despite all that he was surprised at the choice of how this man decided to play, many would have gone for a far bolder strategy at the start. But it made no matter for Andros anyway, as his gaze went towards the pot. But he knew he couldn't just win every time, and he needed some intentional losses. When you could already see the outcome of the game, every game, your mind begins to adapt and to formulate new strategies to make it harder for yourself to win, after all they would say that he cheated somehow, which in its essence was wrong. There was no rule in Poker that forbade someone from seeing the future and playing accordingly.*\n\n*There was no comfort he held in talking to people, not during a match, not before and certainly not after, however card counting, math, numbers, all that made sense to him. He liked it, and he was good at it. Those things helped him calm down and express himself freely as did his drawings, perhaps when the match was over and he returned he would paint a great work on a canvas, one that depicted the outcome of this game.*\n\n** **\n*The seconds passed into minutes, as some of the chips shifted from owner to owner constantly, however it was clear that the son of Pan had the upper hand, as his chips grew in amount, and his original five thousand seemed meager compared to what he had assembled after many rounds. But as soon as he gained the chips more often than not he allowed some of them to be lost to the man with the curly hair, or the snarky blonde. Not enough to diminish his wins however, he knew it was best to only let it grow substantially. Only to win it all, in an All-in once the time had come, and his lips muttered a silent prayer to Helios, as if that would help anything. Well Andros knew that Helios could not help him, but perhaps if he spoke a prayer to him, he would be able to watch the game, after all he wanted Helios to watch, who better than to observe such a victory, than the god who had granted him this ability in the first place.* \n\n*As time passed there seemed to be a faint smile growing upon the features of the man, and yes it was true, this was perhaps one of the few times he truly enjoyed being seen by people, and to be with them. Ironically, there were no tricks that could be played on him during poker, no one could lie to him, after all the game had already been decided the moment it began. But he was not completely subtle, there were times when his gaze shifted towards the chips, absent-minded as he observed the movements of the game that would yet to be played, over and over again, to take a look at the cards that were to be played, the expressions of the players, the words and remarks, snarky and arrogant. His bets grew in size, the more rounds that passed, fewer times did he watch the chips intently, he knew it was drawing to a close and he knew that he would win and win big.*\n\n\"What's your name...?\" *He asked the man with the curly hair in a low, perhaps even curios voice and his gaze seemed to only stay with him for a moment before it moved away.*" }, { "author": "Orion", "message": "As they embarked on the game, Orion went in with full confidence knowing that he would leave with a handsome payout and perhaps even splurge some tonight at a club or bar somewhere in Dionysus' or buy a few things for himself from Plutus' district. If he ended up this lucky at the table, maybe he'd even end up scoring when it comes down to his non-existent love life - which mainly consisted of his favorable method of one nights and flings - and tie up the rest of the night up with a bang. \n\nThis unwavering confidence continued through the game, and while the chips moved from person to person, it seemed to make a consistent stream his way. That excitement he had tried to contain in the beginning expressed itself through a glimmering glint in the greens of his eyes. If his eyes weren't focused on his hands, they were focused on his opponents instead. He knew Christi well enough to know her plays and mannerisms, and considering the wrinkle between her eyebrows from the stress of the game, he knew she was going to lose. However, when he turned his attention to the man instead, he was surprised to see the faintest of smiles pulling at the corners of his lips. Did he get himself a good hand? Or was he just incredibly confident in his own ability to win? \n\nEither way, the prophet had no worries. This game was a set win but little did he know that the favor wasn't tilting his way, but instead at the man he was underestimating. As the game continued to go on, he realized he was losing more chips and that his beginning play of starting low was biting him in the ass. How does one fuck up a royal flush? No, he knew well enough that he had been playing it smart. His relaxed demeanor from the beginning had changed as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he was forced to take this more seriously.\n_ _\n\nHe looked at the dwindling number of his chips as they slowly started to get passed to him with the plays. He only looked up at him when he spoke to him, his voice lower than he would have expected. He gave a lopsided smile, \"Orion. And here I was thinking you were wanting to stay mute on us. Look at that, Christi?\" He said, though this time he knew better than to nudge her, especially with that icy glare of hers. Her loss was final and he knew she wasn't handling it well. Talk about poking a bear. His eyes moved back to the brunette, \"How about you?\" He asked. \n\nA crowd had already found itself formed around the table and while he enjoyed the attention at first, he had found it adding to his stress at the confusion as to why he hadn't won yet. \"What's your name?\" He played his hand again, only two cards left in his hand now. The game was just about complete." }, { "author": "Andros Vairnon", "message": "** **\n**Drop**\n\n*His nails began to graze his finger absent-mindedly, as if they had nothing better to do, and yet they didn't more often than not, after all while he may have enjoyed a game alone, with just these people on the table, that was not to be. His gaze momentarily moved towards the small crowd, only a few had gathered to watch them, as his strategy had just begun, and Orion seemed to have taken the lead in the game. A singular drop of blood seemed to fall on the mahogany of the table, breaking the skin with his nails. However it didn't mean that he would simply falter, just because others had begun to watch him. He hated it, the feeling of being observed by a group of people, after all it reminded him of all the times in school when he failed to give a presentation in front of his classmates.*\n\n**Drop. Drop**\n\n*The longer the game lasted the larger the crowd that assembled, from three to five to ten to eighteen and the worse he seemed to get, albeit the few comforts he could find such as forcing that small wound to bleed in a more rapid succession, albeit unproductive, it seemed to be some sort of relief. Beyond that the sight, the ability to see what will happen in the game and not be worried by anything, seemed to provide further relief.*\n\n** **\n**Drop. Drop. Drop**\n\n*The chips switched owners, going back and forth, between Orion and Andros, unfortunately that woman with blonde hair, had reached the end of this painting. There would be no more strokes for her, and yet that Canvas was not filled yet. Strokes and Strokes of red, painted the canvas, as it painted his nails and fingers faintly. The crowd had murmured, gasped, and been astounded and now it was time for the final stroke, or so Andros was hoping.*\n\n\"What's your name?\"\n\n\n*The question seemed to bring a frown on Andros' features, as his eyes observed the crowd through his peripherals. He knew it would be over and he would win, he had the cards, and he saw it play out. However he would answer his question, despite his better judgment, his opponent had deserved it, after all his luck was astounding, but there was no luck in the world that lasted.* \n\n\"Andros.\" \n\n*He moved all of his chips towards the pot, there was little confidence in his actions, being watched by the crowd, and yet he had snarky comments in his mind that he would have loved to deliver. There was no fun to be had, if Andros could not be able to ensure that his opponent would not forget this. Especially one that he had allowed to squirm for so long. His gaze moved from his chips towards the crowd and back to Orion. A deep breath was taken, as if to ensure his words would not come out with a stutter.*\n\n** **\n\"You're bad at this game, aren't you?\"\n\n*The faintest of smiles seemed to be evident once more on his features, as he delivered the line, perhaps Helios watched this game, and smiled, though more than likely, if the God wished to visit him again he would be faced with the gravest of lectures, imaginable, at wasting the sight in such petty games. Nonetheless he had a story to tell him, and he looked forward to such, regardless.*\n\n\"I'll go All-in.\"" }, { "author": "Orion", "message": "Andros. He found himself repeating it out loud, testing his name on his tongue with his smile still settled on his face. \"So you're not from around these parts, are you?\" He had a Grecian accent of his own, giving the air of a native even though he was born and raised in SoCal. A scammer against a cheater, what a pairing that was. \n\n\"No wonder you don't look all that familiar. I usually know most of the names of the people here. Him,\" He nodded his head to the dealer. \"Theodore, but he hates it, calls himself Adonis instead. Then there's Christi, we know her well enough. Say hi Chris-\" Her heel found its home in his foot again, making a silent scream leave his lips before he bowed his head down to hide the hiss of pain coming from his lips. It took him a second to recover, though with a single tear in the corner of his left eye that he wiped away. \"Not... The greatest company.\" He breathed out in warning. \"She's beautiful but underneath, she's as venomous as a viper.\"\n\nHe came to bring his leg to cross over his knee, trying to protect his foot from further abuse from the blonde. He dropped a few chips into the bowl as he continued. \"But I'm pretty lucky when it comes to this game. There was a night I left here with 30 grand, though today might not be as much.\" He was confident in a way that was cocky, though not overwhelming. He didn't think of himself as better than Andros, but he had faith in his hand. Little did he know how wrong he was. He felt a stroke of annoyance wash over him at Andros' doubt, a breathy laugh leaving his lips in response. \n_ _\n\n\"You're an arrogant one, aren't you? I like that. I like that a lot.\" \n\n When Andros placed all his chips in, his eyes widened some. Green irises focused on the demigod, his gaze calculating as if he were trying to decipher his play but it quickly went away when he came to bet in all his chips as well. \"I'll do the same.\" Little did he know that was the nail that sealed his coffin. The feeling of goosebumps finally was deciphered to him in that moment, the back of his mind trying to figure out why but realized the feeling was because of Andros. \n\n*Demigod.*\n\nThe prophet leaned forward with his elbows resting on the table, an amused look playing on his features. \"Your play, divine one.\"" }, { "author": "Andros Vairnon", "message": "** **\n\"Your play, divine one.\"\n\n*There seemed to be a faint glimmer within his eyes, filled with surprise at the word of this gambler, and yet he could not help but find himself curios at this choice of words. It was obvious to him that most mortals did not know of the existence of gods and demigods, and yet this one called him such. Divine one... That word within his mind seemed to simply fit the description of what he was. What Helios is. And yet he would not wish to compare himself with Helios, after all it would be a short-lived comparison, where Helios was respected and revered, he was mocked and belittled.*\n\n*However, he would not waste this opportunity, as he saw Orion match it. He went all-in as well and that was what he saw when they began to play, after all when he revealed his cards, he watched Orions features, as the realization must have settled in. A Royal Flush. Perhaps luck may have been with him once, however, the scammer did not realize one thing. Luck is a temporary and fickle thing, it swings and swings until it finally ceases once. Once it does cease to swing in your favour, there is little you can do in this game. The only way to prepare yourself for that time is to watch the movements of Lady Luck with your own eyes. A gift that had been granted to him by the Sun.*\n\n\"So, does that mean I won? Or did I lose?\"\n\n** **\n*He looked from Orion to Christie and back to Orion, with a puzzled look. Despite the introverted nature of the Demigod, there was no denying that there seemed to be wit beneath all that, in the deepest part of his mind. Poker helped him express himself, truly though, unlike a conversation, it was clear to him, what to do and say next. It helped him keep off the intrusive thoughts that lurked and, yes, even dominated his mind and forced him to keep quiet. Forced him to fear the conversation with others.*\n\n\"I think I'll take my winnings now... Unless any of you wish to go in double or nothing? No? Oh, well...\"\n\n*This sort of boisterous attitude while winning, it seemed a different side of the recluse, and yet to him, it was unfamiliar as well. A rush of adrenaline had shot throughout the game, and now he needed some outlet, to release it. He knew that Helios was watching him, after all he had a feeling that he was always watching him, and he hoped that he would be proud of his progress today. He had spoken almost the entire time without a stutter. His gaze however kept upon Orion, wondering if he should seek that man out and speak to him, though the thought seems to turn something in his stomach.*" }, { "author": "Orion", "message": "The gift of sight was vastly different than Andros. Both were blessed by the Sun gods, he with Apollo, the demigod with Helios. Though, unlike his opponent, Orion couldn't use his sight on command and instead, it was a lot more spontaneous. The Gods sent him prophecies, giving him more overarching flickers of what the future held, or used for their own whims when it came to spreading their message. If he knew the full extent of their situations, he would have cursed Apollo mentally for not giving him an ability like that. It would have been almost enough to even out the traumatic visions he hit him with from time to time.\n\nLike a mouse caught in a trap, Orion's excitement slowly faded and the smile on his face fell as he saw him play his last cards. He did a double take, looking at what Andros presented compared to what was left of his. No. Way. His eyes couldn't believe it. His expression showed pure disbelief in the situation, especially when he knew he should have won. But instead, here he was with five thousand lost in an instant when he should have been walking away with the full fifteen thousand. Even Christi leaned forward, looking at the last cards and between the two men before letting out a small scoff and getting up to leave the table, pushing her way through the crowd and leaving the poor prophet alone in his dismay. \n\n*\"You've won.\"* The dealer announced before beckoning someone to come over to whisper in their ear, no doubt to get the cash ready for Andros to take home. \n_ _\n\nMeanwhile, Orion tossed his cards on the table and leaned back with his hand on his chin, as if rewinding the game in his head and pressing play to see where it went wrong. He had played it right, there was no mistake. No, maybe it was already fucked in the beginning when he started low but no one could have known what he had in his hand, yet Andros played off of it perfectly. Even then, the probability of that was near impossible for anyone to guess, unless it was pure dumb luck but he doubted that. Not with how clueless this kid was to not even recognize his win. \n\nThen, his expression shifted into one of realization. Demigod... *It had something to do with his divinity*, not just that, he knew well enough that champions existed within the midst. The dealer looked to him when Andros put out his offer, only for Orion to look at him as if to say, *\"You think I got the fucking money for that?\"* Only for him to shrug. The oracle looked back at the younger man, \"Before we do, we should talk. Mind following to get a drink?\" He asked. There was a small bar at the Parlor that had a few stools lined up on the opposite side of the countertop. He wore a tight smile whilst the crowd dispersed. He knew better than to accuse him of cheating in front of them, especially when what they witnessed was a fair game but game recognized game, and Orion sniffed out the cheater well enough. *And boy*, did it stink. \n_ _\n\nHe got up from his seat, waiting for Andros (if he agreed), before walking to the bar. When they arrived, the tight smile disappeared and a glare was directed toward Andros. \"I don't know who you think you are, but pulling that shit back there was real low. Do you get a kick out of scamming a hardworking person coming here to let off some steam of their money?!\" Despite the urgency in his voice, he kept his voice in a frantic whisper." }, { "author": "Andros Vairnon", "message": "** ** \n*There was a certain thrill in seeing Orion realize the extent of his defeat as he revealed his cards, it was always a moment of joy to see the agony and surprise within the eyes of those who have lost. Though equally was the joy in seeing Christi leave the table, knowing that she had just lost five grand, and there was nothing she could do about it. Though his gaze moved towards the cards tossed onto the board by the angered Orion, he paid them no mind, after all, he already knew what cards the mortal had. They weren't terrible, not by a long shot, and had this been any other game, Orion would have walked home with 15 grand. However, the unfortunate truth for him was that he lost the game before it even began.*\n\n\"Before we do, we should talk. Mind following to get a drink?\"\n\n*He simply nodded at the request, as he moved to follow Orion towards the Bar, however he would not wish to drink, after all he didn't like the taste of Alcohol, if not laced with something else. Truth be told, however, he wasn't sure how much he could actually drink, after all he only rarely if ever drank. Though after this day, he certainly could afford some of the more expensive drinks. Perhaps he would stop buy and bring Helios something in order to lighten up that mood of his, after all he wished to make amends and apologize for using his power once again on a mortal.*\n\n** **\n\"Do you get a kick out of scamming a hardworking person coming here to let off some steam of their money?!\"\n\n*Those features of Andros that had been delighted at his victory quickly turned into a frown as Orion spoke, albeit carefully and reserved, after all he didn't wish to give up too much information. But one thing seemed to truly baffle him, he played his cards carefully and allowed Orion to move back and forth with him, so there should have been no reason for someone to accuse him of cheating. No, even those who had lost much more than Orion hadn't complained about such a fact. His eyes gazed away from Orion, as if to look for someone or rather something, trying to search for a window. **Any window**. Though ultimately, his gaze shifted back towards Orion, though there was no remorse inside his hues.* \n\n\"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.\" \n\n*His words flowed out of him in a sudden outburst, and for a moment he paused, shocked at his own admission. Though he knew those words to be true, he had never been confronted about it, and yet there were reasons as to why he engaged in this. And for a few moments it seemed as if that was the only thing he would say. His hands lowered towards his legs, clenched into fists, tight, and his gaze seemed much more interest in a bottle of whiskey, avoiding that gaze of Orion.*\n\n** **\n\"You have no idea, how I feel, Mortal. To know what will happen, to be blessed with more than just powers, to know that finally there is something... Some way I can express myself without stuttering or without having this little voice in my head, yell at me. Tell me that I shouldn't talk to others, and then I found this... Gambling with people who have nothing to lose anyway, because most of them are addicts. This is the only way I can express myself, my thoughts and feelings without fearing that little voice of conscience I have telling me, that I am lower than low.\" \n\n*His voice seemed low and quiet, as he moved closer towards Orion and yet looking at Andros, hearing the tone in his voice, one could know how frustrated he seemed to be about... All this. It would be a lie to say that cheating mortals out of their money thanks to his sight didn't provide a fun pastime, and yet it was only a caveat to what seemed to be a constant turmoil.*" }, { "author": "Orion", "message": "Never had Orion gotten such a deadpan response, it even made him recoil. If he were in Andros' situation, he would have never dreamed of ever admitting to cheating. Did he not take him seriously? He knew he had kind eyes, a cute face, and a warm welcoming exterior BUT he would *Not* Take this disrespect! His gaze narrowed as he looked at him, the corners of his lips turning downward in dislike. Damn, if only he had recorded it. \n\n\"I could go tell the dealer right now and your money wouldn't get returned to you.\" He told him, his finger pointing to the bald man who had his back turned to him, distracted by organizing the chips at the table they just played at. Then again, how could he prove that he cheated? *Oh, he's a demigod and he clearly used whatever abilities to cheat,* Would get him banned from the establishment and ultimately make Orion lose one of the few fun activities he had to pass the time. What was he without the thrill of going into debt or striking lucky? For him, it also was a distraction from the prophetic images that constantly bounced in his mind. It gave him something to focus on.\n\nHis dark brows furrowed as he continued, using a term he had heard been used so many times to him. *Mortal.* The more he said, the more his brows relaxed and his eyes became kind once more, almost sympathetic. So this was also a method for him to find relief, though for him it was a more confidence factor in terms of distraction. He understood and that understanding tugged on the heartstrings of the prophet. A sigh left him as he leaned back, his arm coming to rest on the bar counter as he pressed his weight against it. \n_ _\n\n\"Well, when you put it like that, it almost makes me seem like the bad guy...\" He said as he brought his free hand to rub the back of his neck. Was he purposely trying to guilt trip him or was it a genuine response to the oracle's anger? \"I get it, man. Gambling is the one thing that quiets everything, all you have to do is focus on the cards, the chips, and the people around you. And also having eyes on you during it isn't so bad.\" He said with a smile. \"The excitement near the end of the game, knowing you're about to take a big one home... God, there's nothing like it.\" However, the realization hit him again as he realized *He* Was the one with the short end of the stick here and his smile slowly fell. \n\nHis back straightened up with the change in his demeanor, \"But it doesn't change the fact that you *Cheated*. How did you manage that? What, you got the gift of sight or somethin'?\" It dawned on him as the words left his mouth. He snapped his fingers and pointed at him, \"The gift of sight!\" He exclaimed loudly, which made others look their way in either surprise or annoyance with the outburst before going about what they were doing before. \"Don't tell me Apollo got to you too?\" He asked, his voice more hushed now in an attempt to bring their conversation back to private." }, { "author": "Andros Vairnon", "message": "** **\n\"I could go tell the dealer right now and your money wouldn't get returned to you.\"\n\n*Money. It seems that is all the mortals cared about. Wealth. Money. Who has more and who has less? Once he was like that as well, but Helios had ensured that he did not care for the winnings he gathered while gambling. He almost wanted to return the money to this mortal, but then he remembered. He didn't deserve it to be returned. But he did not dare Orion to go to the dealer and tell him his confession, after all, who would believe him? Andros had been careful, more so than usual, and even now within the mind of the Demigod he remembered the cards that he played and that Orion played, the back and forth, and the future that he saw. It was a sloppy game from Orion who relied on his luck, however he did not speak that part out loud, after all it would have simply added to the embarrassment of the mortal.*\n\n*Instead, he watched him as his brows furrowed, while Andros spoke his mind, and it was true, most of it anyway, such things helped him greatly. For that reason Helios had allowed him to use his sight on such things, trivial as they may seem to Demigods and especially Gods, for mortals losing money was the worst of vices and the gravest of insults.*\n\n\"Well, when you put it like that, it almost makes me seem like the bad guy...\"\n\n** **\n*The usage of the word almost was curious, no within this story there was one good guy and one bad guy, and perhaps a third mediocre woman, and he would not accuse himself of being the bad guy. No one ever accused themselves, after all, of being the villain of their story, and yet there was a nagging thought for a fleeting moment that he was not the good guy here. And yet that thought passed, as soon as it arrived. Though he couldn't help but smile as Orion seemed to admit his shortcoming. However what he said next did seem to fill him with more than just a tinge of guilt, as Orion admitted how gambling made him feel. Such feelings seemed to surprise him, after all the charismatic man had it easy talking to people and feeling with them. He was mortal as was everyone around him, mortals did not need to worry about the greater things in life. Their lives are short, feeble and delicate.* \n\nDon't tell me Apollo got to you too?\"\n\n\"I am no Servant of Apollo, mortal. I am the Herald of Helios, and his voice in the mortal realm.\" \n\n*HIs voice was hushed, despite the intensity of his words, and he gazed at Orion, though surprise evident on his face that he mentioned Apollo. Perhaps this mortal was far more special than he thought, above those other mortals. He leaned just a tinge closer, so that they could talk in quiet whispers, so that others did not overhear the contents of their conversation. It wasn't necessary to have another long conversation with Helios regarding his duties as a Champion.*\n\n** **\n\"But... What do you mean when you say that Apollo got you? Has he bestowed upon you a gift? I... Had no idea you were a demigod as well... That you have divine blood in you is surprising. But then again, the same can be said for me, after all many still question why Helios chose me... Given my ... Well everything.\"" }, { "author": "Orion", "message": "Of course, money was all they cared about! Whoever was to say that money didn't matter or that it was only secondary to happiness was a complete fraud in Orion's eyes. Without money, how could they afford the pleasures life had to offer? Though to him, that seemed to be the best drugs he could buy, along with the finest liquors that he could find. Numbing his mind and senses seemed to be when he found himself happiest, as fucked as it sounded but considering he was plagued with repeating prophecies and dreams, it was the one way he could quiet everything and find a semblance of peace. While it may be an extreme method to others, it worked well for him all these years, despite contrary belief \n\nAt least he never would dare to use his ability to win a game - not like he could - but still! To be completely honest, the prophet would have definitely used his abilities to his advantage if he could but instead, it was a lot more random and took way too much concentration for it to be worth using during a poker match. Plus, the adrenaline that came from the unpredictability made it worth it, sometimes. This was an odd case, one that angered him. \n\nHowever, the sob story from Andros helped quell it temporarily. He was a man with a kind heart who had a soft spot for those who had such stories, but even then, all he had to do was remember why he found himself in this position in the first place for the emotions to rise to the surface again. When he heard he wasn't a servant of Apollo, his brows raised in surprise. \"Then how-\" He interjected before getting his answer and his expression relaxed. Helios. He didn't know much about the guy outside he was the literal Sun. So, this guy was championed by him. It was ironic how they both were related to two sun gods. \n_ _\n\n\"Herald is kind of dramatic, don't you champions only get these dazzling abilities and not much more than them anyways?\" He asked before raising his hand to grab the attention of the barkeep. He needed a drink. Talking to this guy was taking so much out of him. \"That's like me calling myself the Great Oracle devoted to his magnificence, Apollo.\" Saying it out loud made him want to cringe. \"Well, I guess all the Gods use me in their own way outside of just him- Uh, yeah, a whiskey, neat. Thanks.\" He stopped mid-way to give his order to the bartender before continuing, only to give a snort that turned into a laugh at hearing him ask if he was a demigod. \n\n\"*Puh-lease*, get in that mess with having a Godly parent? No offense, but the Gods fucking suck as parents. Half of 'em don't even know who their kids are, to begin with.\" I guess when you were a God, not much mattered, especially when it came to their mortal offspring. \"I'm human, or mortal, whatever the hell you wanna call it. And thankful for it, let me tell ya.\" When the glass was set in front of him, he gave a smile of thanks before his green irises settled back on Andros. \n\n\"Everything? Do you mean your scheming, thieving, cheating ways? Pfft, yeah, tell me about it. I'd love to have a talk with this Helios and tell him all about how his champion is using his god-given abilities to scam poor humans out of their money. Do you even need the money anyway?\" He asked before bringing the glass to take a sip." } ]

[ { "author": "darkdinner.", "message": "The Serendipity Square Market was especially radiant in the late afternoon. The sunlight was taking on less shine from the rays of day and softening into an arrangement of orange and pinks. The blush of a setting sun that would cast a kind of glossy film upon everything. It would enchant a building, turning their window glasses into luminary mirrors. The air would begin to cool and the breezes felt uninterrupted. The marketplace glimmered and dazzled within the reach of the golden hour. Patrons stilled buzzed at the stalls in their numbers, but the clamoring from the day's business hours had diminished. Alba liked it better this way. There was less elbows jabbing into their side, fewer out of depth tourists to shuffle around. It could have been worse. Alba could have ended up moonlighting at one of the many fine gambling establishments on the strip royale of Tychit's Gambit.\n\nOrion had started to task the recently hired assistant to this area more often than not to run errands: inquiry about a certain items stock or to fetch a mystical property stone in bulk quantity for the metaphysical stores' downstair retail. It was a nice break from being inside the store, which didn't let in much organic light and was kept moody by various lanterns' glow. Alba liked looking around while en route. They liked when something caught their eye. And even though the crowds were daunting, the atmosphere of gathering bodies, their collective energies and engagement making it all so electric. It almost felt kinetic. And once Alba stepped out and was in the mix, they felt themselves open up, as if their chest expanded to take in more air. There was less tension between their eyes. The errand itself took no time at all. Alba had to drop off a few envelopes to different stall owners of the bazaar. They weren't told what for and they didn't ask. If they were to guess... Perhaps Orion was helping a few businesses get a leg up with his foresight. *If* They had to guess. There was one more note left to deposit and Alba had chewed off a little more time than they ought have becoming side tracked by marbled carved figurines of Fortuna. They began to put some pep into their step— leaving Orion to fend for himself at the shop could quickly dissolve into so much back work for them. Alba had already experienced an Orion dosed all nighter trying to rectifying some error or 'harmless oversight'. They had a habit of pinning their eyes to the ground in front of them, putting on blinders one could say, more or less making a bee line to the final stall and then right back to the store. They were progressing through the marketplace when they were abruptly snagged back.\n\nThe sleeve of their knit jumper caught on the edge of something. Alba budged, trying to rip their arm back but the material was well caught on. It took a hefty tug to free Alba, but it was just as uncoordinated as it had been effective. \" Ah*Shit*...!\" Alba was knocked off center and damn near body checked the person that had been innocently existing in the background nearby." }, { "author": "Zosar Mahmoud", "message": "———————————\n**Tags:** \n**Mentions:** \n**Song:**\n\n———————————\n\n*In the centre of the crowded Bazaar, Zosar stood tall and unmoving like a solitary tree trunk emerging from the depths of a mortal river. His striking features remained unnervingly catatonic as the flowing current of human bodies were forced to either step around his towering figure or collide with a flesh-wall of lean muscle. He paid no mind to the throng of verbal affronts that were aimed in his direction. Nor did he react to the condescending scoffs of agitated customers who were simply trying to get from Point A to Point B without some asshole hindering their path. Despite the unintended road-block he'd caused, the Egyptian appeared to be wholly disconnected from the reality everyone else seemed to be cognitively a part of. His hazel eyes were glazed over, his hands curled into fists at his sides, as a rogue afternoon squall suddenly ripped through the plaza, causing the young man's chocolate curls to dance.*\n\n*He inhaled sharply. Nostrils flaring as the influx of frosty air stung his lungs in bitter necessity.*\n\n-\n*It had been a long time since Zosar had visited the Serendipity Market Square, and regardless of his familiarity with the place; it felt nothing but foreign now. Once upon a time, the Demi-God had maundered through the myriad of eclectic stalls with a boyish grin plastered from ear to ear and a best friend in arm, to wreak havoc with. In recent months, however, his smile had all but vanished and as for Hektor... Well, he'd made his choice. Zeus' Champion hung his head in silent defeat, his breath unsteady as he exhaled the angst which still plagued his disposition without any signs of remit. The war had been taxing on everyone, yet Zosar could not condone the treacherous behaviour of any individual who had actively partaken in, and supported Poseidon's pitiful attempt at a coup. That acrid sentiment was irrespective of how desperately he missed having someone to share his experiences with. Glancing up, the young man attempted to kick his introspection to the curb and focus on the reason he found himself here again. He needed a statue; a specific one, a miniature version of his King upon a throne. By no means was the idol a rarity, and yet, for some reason, the Son of Zelus had struggled to find it.*\n\n-\n*Striding over to one of the vendors, Zosar casually ignored the owner's ridiculous propositions and 'deals' that were incessantly shouted into his face, as he browsed the collection of goods stacked precariously close to the table's edge. Having grown up in Luxor, the Demi-God found this particular type of interaction almost comforting. His mother, Wesam used to drag him to the local market every Sunday, compelling the young child to politely disregard anyone that sought to distract him from the task at hand. Thanks to that early life lesson, the Egyptian was incredibly good at blocking out the unnecessary bleeting of the money-hungry traders. Keenly scoping out all of the little marble figurines that were set up on display, the Champion sorted through the piles of tit and tat until he finally found the effigy he was looking for. An inkling of a smile tugged at the corner of the man's lips, as he handed the palm-sized model over to the seller, so they could wrap it securely for him.*\n\n*Just as the cash was swiped from his clutches, Zosar suddenly found himself being body slammed by a random individual with, evidentiary, terrible balance. Of course, being as tall and sturdy as he was, the contact posed little threat to the Champion's own equilibrium. The Demi-God adjusted his footing with a practised fluidity that stemmed from years of physical pedagogy and managed to effortlessly intervene.*\n\n-\n** \"Wow there!\"** *He exclaimed, using his chest as a fail-safe, the Egyptian's hands immediately grabbing onto the person's shoulders, securing them in-situ mid-fall so that they wouldn't continue their unceremonious descent to the earth below. Even with all the inertia at their back, the individual weighed practically nothing, and so it took literally zero effort for Zosar to gently push the being back onto the balls of their own feet. He would not let go of their collar bone, however, until he was positive they'd re-centred themselves.*\n\n** \"Are you okay?\"** *Zosar queried, his tone riddled with subtle concern, managing to get a proper look at the person he'd just rescued from a long night of laundry, based on the state of the ground beneath their feet. While the Champion wasn't entirely sure of their identity, he was absolutely certain he'd run into them before. But where, escape him completely. His brows furrowed in partial recognition, his expression twisted into a leery grimace as he instantly retracted his touch and took a distanced step backwards.*\n\n** \"Wait-...Do I know you?\"**" }, { "author": ",!i|1i!!i1|i!, ALBA ,!i|1i!!i1|i!,", "message": "There was nothing extraordinary about the impact. They fell, they were caught, steadied by heavy hands that clasped over their shoulder firmly through the material of their layers and ushered them back in a more upright position. Compared to the other, Alba was modest in stature, on the lankier side. They had been gaunt as a child but that was because for a time their diet had consisted of literal nuts and berries ( and, when things had been more dire, critters of a certain kind). Alba felt disoriented, or thrown off in more ways than one. Admittedly, a touch embarrassed. The demigod ran their hands over their front, smoothing down their sleeves then quickly decided to start tucking them. They were ready to move on alarmingly fast without even acknowledging the person who had intercepted their ungainly actions, wanting to retreat back to the shop two fold (*Make haste!*) likely to sit behind the counter and sulk, replaying the moment in their head until the next break for a cigarette. \n\nAlba's face burned, flaring up in a show of sheepishness, though the way their brows pinched towards each other and their jaw clenched, they ultimately just appeared uncomfortable.\n\n*Recalibrating... Recalibrating...* Alba was seconds from turning on heel and darting away. But they stopped, yanked out of their internal dissonance to what was going on right then and there, out of the reach of their bloated self conscious ruminations. They looked up at the young woman. He was tall, statuesque, standing right in a golden strip of setting sunlight. He did have a distinguished look, a jawline that would do good on a poster. But **Who** He was, or just as importantly, what he was, did not reveal itself to Alba right away. Their recollection for most things was choppy. It felt like whiplash, going from instant into the next; they didn't know if they had the spoons to assemble the social prowess it took to beam at an acquaintance you just so happen to run into on the street at this time. Their thoughts and attention bounced between the store, being a klutz, and Orion *And* The store. But it would be rude to just run away. Probably worse than sticking around and putting them both through a few moments of painstaking awkwardness. They looked at him as he bore down his gaze. He didn't necessarily look happy to see them as the seconds dragged on, if they were to know each other to know each other somehow. Naturally Alba mimicked his expression, taking a step back, too when his hands finally fell away from their small shoulders. Why was he making that kind of face... They didn't want to be looked at like that.\n\nDo I know you... They took a moment to give a thorough look over. His face was that of many in a flash pan of memories. \"**Maybe**,\" They decided to answer. \"**Are you a fortune seeker?**\" But it could have been before being hired at The Celestial Pavilion. But not before Olympian. Alba had been a ghost, the shell of a person before here, back then, when turmoil had been at its height and they had discovered through blight and mortal suffering about Gods and Goddesses. \"You're a warrior,\" They said, speaking intuitively. Behind the man, the stall owner was chirping sounds, trying to get his attention for the purchase he had just made. Alba's gaze turned from a shaky glance to openly stare at him. Were they imagining an aura—hallucinating before lunch? \" Are you a Champion...\"" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "\"I have found so much beauty in the dark, as I have found horrors in the light.\"\n\nA scene between\n\nPersephone's throne, majestic and adorned with symbols of her dominion over the underworld. It is fashioned from obsidian, embellished with intricate carvings representing life, death, and rebirth. Shadows seem to dance around it, echoing the eternal cycle of the seasons and exotic flowers that seem to embrace the darkness swirl in vines around it." }, { "author": "industrialisland", "message": "It had taken months, but finally Triton reached his breaking point. It had been so simple, his punishment: cursed to have all his relationships fall apart, for friend and stranger alike to feel hostility toward him. He thought he could bear it, but he could not, and it was unnerving how easily Persephone had triumphed in this bitter dispute. Once he told her he was ready to submit she ordered him to come to her, and so he set off to, feeling more than a little anxious. Triton had never been to the underworld before.\n\nThe air was thick with a damp, acrid stench as Triton stood at the edge of the River Styx. The churning black waters roared against the rocky shores that echoed in the cavernous expanse of the Underworld. The oppressive darkness pressed in on all sides, broken only by the faint, eerie glow of ghostly torches lining the shore. Triton's heart thumped nervously in his chest, each beat a reminder of his desperation and the grim task ahead. Persephone knew exactly what she was doing, making him come here. He swallowed and then looked over at Charon, the skeletal ferryman of the dead, standing silently in his creaking boat. His hollow eyes seemed to pierce through Triton, evaluating his worthiness to cross into Hades' domain. With an unsteady hand, Triton offered a coin, the toll for passage. Charon's bony fingers closed around it, and with a nod, he gestured for Triton to board. The boat rocked precariously as Triton stepped in, his breath catching at the sudden motion. He was on edge. He gripped the sides, his knuckles white and his forehead sweaty. The stench of decay and rot was overwhelming, mingling with the faint, metallic scent of blood. As Charon began to row, the sounds of the Underworld grew louder – the distant wails of tormented souls, the whispers of the damned, and the relentless, rhythmic splashing of the Styx against the boat. Triton's eyes darted around, taking in the haunting scenery.\n\nThe riverbanks were lined with the twisted forms of those denied passage, their ghostly fingers grasping at the air in silent pleas. The water itself seemed alive, dark tendrils reaching out as if to drag him into its depths. He shuddered, for however much he feared Persephone before, it was not increased when seeing her domain. As the boat glided forward, the Citadel of Hades loomed into view. Its towering spires, forged from obsidian and shadow, pierced the murky sky. The Citadel's darkened halls seemed to absorb the very light around it, a monolithic sentinel overlooking the realm of the dead. Triton's breath caught in his throat at the sight, a mix of awe and dread churning in his stomach. He couldn't help but think how much he preferred his father's citadel to this one.\n\nThe boat scraped against the far shore, and Charon motioned for Triton to disembark. His legs felt weak, unsteady as he stepped onto the solid ground. The path to the Citadel was lined with statues of past rulers, their cold, stone eyes watching his every move. Triton's pulse quickened with each step, the silence around him amplifying his fear. Was this a trap? What if Persephone wouldn't allow him to leave? The thought of being prisoner in the underworld sent a shiver down his spine, and he longed to be back to the water, to life.\n\nInside the Citadel, the air grew colder, the darkness deeper. The walls seemed to pulse with a life of their own, shadows shifting and dancing just beyond the edge of sight. Triton's footsteps echoed through the empty halls. Knowing he was coming, he figured Persephone prepared accordingly, making sure he felt small and alone walking down those intimidating halls. Finally, he reached the grand throne room. The massive doors creaked open, revealing Persephone seated on her throne, majestic and adorned with symbols of her dominion over the underworld. It was fashioned from obsidian, embellished with intricate carvings representing life, death, and rebirth. Shadows seem to dance around it, echoing the eternal cycle of the seasons and exotic flowers that seem to embrace the darkness swirl in vines around it. The Queen of the Underworld, radiant and formidable, gazed down at him. Her dress was a masterpiece of dark elegance, a cascade of emerald and black that seemed to flow like liquid night. The intricate details shimmered in the dim light, giving her an otherworldly aura. He made the long walk to stand directly in front of her and then reluctantly lowered to his knee, kneeling before her like a knight of old.\n\n\"Queen of the Underworld...\" He began, trying to steady his voice, \"I have come to beg for your forgiveness for the misdeed of killing your champion. Though I have *Already* Apologized, and though I think this punishment too harsh considering my crime, I nevertheless ask you to lift the curse you have placed on me that has so completely wrecked my life. I can no longer bear it. Please remove this curse and let us be done with it.\" Triton bowed his head, fighting back tears of frustration. He hated this. He hated her. He hated the underworld. He just wanted this to be over so he could go home. Triton was not a humble man, so this display was utterly humiliating for him, especially after all of the threats he had cast in her direction." }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "❝ ⌜Who said you can't wear a flower crown and still be a fearsome thing.⎯ ✶⌝ ❞\n \nTitle. [You Should See Me in a Crown](\nSetting. The Underworld.\nCharacters. ⁠ Persephone , Triton. \nPings/Mentions. \nNotes: \n \n⋆.˚ ☪︎ ִ ࣪ .𖥔˚.\n \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n_ _\n\nHe had come. The God of the raging seas of his father had descended upon the Underworld to beg that the curse bestowed upon him be lifted. Part of Persephone raised a brow, in respect, a curl of her lips in response, as his form collided against the stark and unforgiving dark of the Underworld. To brave the Underworld, even for a God, was no small feat, and those that did not live within its embrace rarely stood against the smothering mourning of it all. \n\nHe looked as much a contrast as the Goddess of Spring when she had first descended upon these steps, kneeled before the throne of Hades. Flaming curls and bright colors of life and change. Yet here she sat, in emerald and black lace that formed to her body and cascaded down the throne placed for her, as if she had been here the entire time. As if Hades had always been waiting for his Queen to find and take her rightful place, to embrace it in the ways she did now. She who shall not be named. The darkness and wrath against the light and life. She was the balance of life and death. She was more than Hades' Queen, she was the Underworld's reminder of what once was and the Earth's reminder of what was to be. \n_ _\n\n\"Triton.\" Her voice was not cold, but it lacked the warmth that those who had come to know her had grown used to. Her shoulders straightened as she looked down upon him and a snicker echoed in response to his words. \"Too harsh?\" Her brow knit in frustration at the stubborn nature of the Prince that took to the seas. Standing, she descended down the stairs so that she could look upon him with contempt before speaking in otherworldly tone. \n\n\"Let's take a walk- Shall we?\" \n\nShe did not wait for him to follow her. Only disappeared into the curling shadows of the throne room's walls. Elegant flowers of ethereal nature lighting against her form to show the path behind and ahead.\n_ _\n\nDown. Down they went as the cries and pleas of the dead seemed to echo against every wall. Pleas for another chance, pleas to say the goodbyes they never got to say. Most could not understand them, only hearing the moans of those long gone from the Earth above, but Persephone could. She could hear every separate plea of the mortals that were taken too soon. The cries of babes that had been torn from their mother's bossom only to be cast into the unknown. Cries of lovers that never got the chance to hold those they yearned for. \n\nIt was her love for mortals that gave her this curse, and her love for mortals that made her despise Triton's dismissal of his deed. \"Do you know how many lives have been lost since the war began, Triton?\" \n_ _\n\nThey were descending down stairs that curled and winded in steep formation. Torches lighting what little they could along the way in flaming blazes of blue. She did not wait for his response before she spoke. \"I do. I have counted every single soul that has entered due to the nature of this war. Every single one.\" There was an edge to her tone, a bitterness that warned against retort. \n\nThey came upon a room that was covered in engravings. Names carved into every inch of stone and painted in gold like the threads that had been cut. \"Every single name is carved into my thoughts- and onto these stones, including his.\" Persephone pointed to the Champion that had lost his life at the beginning of the rampages. The Champion she had cared for, nurtured, protected. Her responsibility. Her family. As many mortals had come to be in the eyes of the bleeding heart that was the Queen of the Underworld. \n\n\"You may think me harsh, but you took a piece of me when you took my Champion from me. Tore my family too soon from his place and cast him into the unforgiving waters below.\" She moved within the room, careful to step around the carvings that had extended to the floor. Her fingers brushing the name of a child that had been taken in a collapse. One she had attempted to save, but had been there too late. Not even Persephone could fight the Fates and their damned scissors, it seemed. \"You have not even begun to see harsh from me, son of Poseidon.\" \n\nShe turned now, sentiment blending with a sincerity as hazel eyes gazed upon the looming form before her. \"Tell me, Triton, why do you deserve a second chance that they never received? That *He* Never received?\"\n_ _" } ]

[ { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "In the realm of dreams, Persephone was suspended in the tapestry of shifting shadows and ethereal mists of a nightmare taking form. As the threads whispered through the landscape, the queen of the underworld entered a dreamscape bathed in hues of melancholy. A haunting breeze whispered through her fiery red locks, and with it a distant echo of war drums. The air was crackling and thick with an unspoken tension coming to fruition, a mirage revealing a vast battlefield before her eyes.\n\nCelestial forces unfolded there, with Alexios, her chosen champion, on one side of the field. He stood resolute in his ways, assured of his victory as he stared down his opponent. An army of radiant figures, both made by history and unknown, stood behind him with the brilliance of the stars. Humans, that wished to make their voices known, gripped weapons with white knuckles and their gaze spoke of sheer determination. He was radiant, everything she had hoped him to be in their shared vulnerability. He was what Persephone could not become, for the mortals she so craved to save from their inevitable doom. \n_ _\n\nOn the opposing front was where she took pause, for Poseidon nor Zeus did not stand in its place. Hades, her stoic king of the Underworld, commanded a legion beyond imagining. Shadowy figures, obscured by the shifting gloom, all but their glowing eyes of white unseen, but they could be felt. So many below thirsted for a taste of air once more, power that hid within darkness and emerged so rarely. They were hungry, so very hungry to watch the humans beneath Alexios command bleed. To hear their screams shout out amongst the skies.\n\nPersephone's heart trembled with a mixture of fear and anguish. Her mouth opened to plead with the two men within her life, her tongue caught within a trap where she could not speak. Her throat tightening as she collapsed to her knees. Her gaze shifted between Alexios, the demigod she had championed for peace, and Hades, the one who had claimed her heart and made her Queen.\n_ _\n\nWithin the battle, Alexios held a sword high above his head as he charged the man she adored. A blade that gleamed with the radiance of hope, clashing against the shadows that surged around them like a raging sea of darkness. Each clash reverborating through Persephone's chest, through the dream realm itself, as the goddess cried out in strangled silence. Echoing the guilt and strife within her heart, a stage for the feelings surging within. \n\nThe dream dove further within her tapestry of emotions, woven within were the threads of sorrow and uncertainty as Persephone clutched her chest. Hades, bore the weight of responsibility and the desire to protect his realm as he carried forward. Alexios, fought valiantly, driven by the conviction that peace must prevail for humans to survive. That the gods must yield to each other and human nature once more. \n\nA sword flashed within the darkness, her eyes stung as smoke crowded around her. Yet she saw the blow that made her audible. The pain was a scream that threatened to shatter realms as she fell forward. Hades blood spilled upon the grass that her fingers grasped, and tore. Desperate to reach the man she loved, his blood pooling between her touch. \"Alexios, what did you do?\"\n\n\"WHAT DID YOU DO?\"\n_ _\n\nShadows exploded from Persephone's body in her rage and cast a blanket over every body that still dared to clash metal against metal, weapon against weapon. Every source of human flesh soon turned to rats that scurried about in panic. Alexios forcibly to his knees before the queen he had promised fealty to, fealty in exchange for power. Fealty, yet he betrayed her in the harshest of ways. Her heart was shattered and her eyes spoke of such, as she cast upon him a deadly glance. \"You will suffer, I will see to it that you descend so far into madness that it consumes you. That you destory every person you have ever dared to love and when you have done so, when human blood is so drenched upon your hands that you could never hope to wash the crimson stains away, I shall wake you. Wake you upon the mountain of destruction that you caused, and force the memories upon you. Let you live every agonizing moment that they begged beneath your hands for mercy, so that you may descend into guilt and madness once more.\"\n_ _" }, { "author": "papadrah", "message": "A wise god did not linger in the dreams of those \"Above\" His station too often. Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades were all notable names to be added that topped that list. They were powerful, and the consequences of their attention could be far-reaching. While he was sure he could get away with it when it came to the leaders of the warring factions, Hades was more used to the dream god's deceptive tactics, and by that, he had issued a decree that he stay out of his lover's nocturnal theatre. For the most part, he listened, but while he favored Hades, he did not trust him absolutely. \n\nMorpheus trusted no one, absolutely.\n\nHis delves into Persephone's dreams were not done often. They were sporadic adventures that allowed him to witness whatever she had been projecting. Most of the time, it was useless to his aims: a stray tidbit here or there to file away, but nothing of genuine concern. Tender moments with her beloved never lingered. Despite the beautiful pairing they made, he was not the sort to play voyeur to the lord and lady of the realm. There had to be lines when you respected someone. \n\nThis dream, however, from the moment he entered it, had been something completely different from what he had expected. A grand battlefield stretched from horizon to horizon with legions squared off. Morpheus had initially expected this to be Olympus and Tidebreaker, but the mortal realm standing against the legions of the abyss caused a pang of shock to course through Morpheus's feathered form. \n\nOwls were his preferred form to spy upon others. Throughout time, the silent predator has had symbology tied to both the dream and supernatural worlds. She probably did not even notice with her dance with panic she was in that he had perched upon the limb of a dead tree not too far from her back to observe the great battle and the dance of death between Hades and who he recognized as Alexios. Each clash of the blade reflected in the large, dark eyes of his avian form. The chaos around them was a backdrop, but just because that was where his eyes fell did not mean he hadn't taken notice of the state Persephone was in. \n\nThere were no limitations to his knowledge of a dream as it unfolded before him. \n\nMorpheus watched in surprise as her husband fell in battle and the goddess's anger exploded in darkness, yet it was not the vitriol that caught him off guard. It was the hurt, not for the loss, nor for the man who had taken her beloved, but for the portion she internalized in herself. In that instant, he knew what she had done, and the dream suddenly shifted. Typically, dreams left little autonomy. There were like theme park rides with frayed vision at the edges. It was almost as if you managed to yank your gaze to the side. You could rip yourself from the dream. It was all very incorporeal. That changed when Morpheus came into control. Everything suddenly felt vivid and alive, which may have been terrifying given the prospect if it all hadn't frozen before her, leaving her to wonder what had just transpired. \n\n\"What have you done?\" Morpheus's voice was gentle, but the accusation was no less harsh. She would be able to turn then to see that she had been discovered by invasion from the god of dreams. He was not supposed to be here, yet he had revealed himself out of concern for what he was witnessing. Yet they both knew it was not as if he could run to Hades to tell her secret. It could turn the Abyss upside down. He would certainly face some sort of punishment for denying his lord's wishes and venturing to this forbidden place, no matter what he'd found. \n\nMorpheus strode forward and knelt before Alexios's frozen form so he could examine him much more closely. \"You have endangered us all..\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "*\"What have you done?\"*\n\nThe world shifted before her like the rumbles of the Earth when the gods cast earthquakes upon the mortals. Her knees steadied, but her body shook, as her reality crumbled from beneath her feet. Her thoughts becoming her own once more, it was like she had awoken from the deepest of slumbers. \"Morpheus.\" Her voice cracked, the emotion of her loved one still within her arms bringing an ache that she could not fix. No matter her attempts at mending the broken remnants of her heart, she knew the depths of what her betrayal could mean, to the underworld, to the realms, but to the one whom she loved, most of all. This very secret could be the undoing that she had never meant it to be.\n\n\"I thought you and Hades had come to an agreement that my dreams were to be off limits.\" There was an edge to her voice that was unbecoming of the normally joyous queen. Her eyes, the deepest abyss, the emerald glimmer within them gone. Yet when Hades turned to a shimmering mist of dust and sand within her fingertips, it was as if the cloud was lifted. Her darkness receding within herself and a sense of exhaustion overcoming the flamed beauty of life and spring. This was not real. The battle was nothing more than a dream, and Hades was likely still within the blissful state of slumber beside her within their bedchambers. \n\n\"Morpheus...\" Her voice was softer now, a tinge of fear to yet another god forging her secret together and what such a factor could mean. \"You don't understand.\" It was a plea, an attempt to start a conversation she had no end to. What she did, her champion she led, it was all for her love of mortals. His statement was not entirely incorrect, as her thoughts did not once ponder on her realm, on her sister, on her brethren within and for that she would forever be consumed in guilt. \n_ _\n\nShe pushed against his control of her slumber, a gentle request within her mind and the realm he was strongest within. Her thoughts rampaging before them at a rapid pace, as she knew showing was the only option, and so she did. She let her mind wander to every screaming soul crying out for help. Every human she touched and healed, and the ones she did not reach in time. Babes, still attached to their mothers breast beneath rubble, men barely of age fighting for their home, children with their hands reaching towards the gods that were supposed to save them. \n\n\"How long would you have me listen to this? How long would you have me standby when I know more could be done?\" Still it was all flashing by until it finally landed on that fateful day. The day she approached Alexios and reached her power towards him. Her mouth flinching as her eyes shifted between the two. She had not meant to go this far, to show him every hand she held but she was not him. She had little control within this realm, and so her thoughts unlocked like a vault with no key. \n\n\"I can save both. One does not have to mean the doom of the other...\" \n_ _" }, { "author": "papadrah", "message": "Morpheus was no child. There was no sense of romanticism that burned in his breast when he looked up Persephone and Hades in the corporeal world. Their story was one echoed across time by young girls with Tumblr blogs and retold through many mediums as a twisted romance that got the blood boiling. Morpheus knew better. When she had been taken, the dream walker had observed from the shadows and took stock of the situation. It had all been a sort of twisted affair, and yet from that wicked garden burned a true love. Perhaps not perfect, but he would never have suspected Persephone capable of something like this. \n\nHis name escaped her lips with a sense of confusion. She was right; there was a deal, but the ethereal nature of Morpheus put his greatest weapon to work against her. Silence. For a long time, he said nothing. He observed the corpse of his lord upon the ground and the knelt visage of the demigod while her mind came into focus. If he was here, then this certainly was a dream, and the goddess could exert a certain amount of control before he grew tired of her games and exerted his dominance. \n\nOnly, out of some sense of respect, he let her have control to show him whatever it was she meant to show him. Dark eyes dragged from the scene to watch the scenes she portrayed. She was the bleeding heart; he was not. The vexed crease to his brow that had been present since his appearance had not eased in the slightest. These mortals meant nothing to him. They were akin to batteries that charged the power of his realm with their sleeping hours. He admired them like the consumer admired a herd of cattle. He understood their importance but thought little of their daily existence and cared little for their life. \n\nAfter a long moment, his voice broke the silence. A dreamy, deep tone that would sound perfect if a head were to lay upon his chest and close its eyes. \"Sweet Persephone.\" It almost sounded as if he were sad to tell her some truth. Of the gods, she was one of the few he actually enjoyed. They did not move in each other's presence often, and that was fine. He'd admired the gentle side of her afar, knowing there was more to her than this sweet, lovable entity that had captured the heart of the one that had physically captured her. \n\n\"Did Icarus teach you nothing?\" \n\nWIth a swipe of his hand, the scene rushed back to the point where her nightmare had ended. Her beloved lay out on the ground with her champion standing over his corpse. Only this time, the battle raged around them. It never drew close, but mortals and gods fought around him. Body parts and gore flew in every direction. Cries for mothers or aid came from every direction. None came near where she stood despite the carnage of the scene around them. The dark gaze of the dream god remained. He studied her for signs that his lessons were sinking in. \n\nWith a snap of his finger, all, including her husband and champion, faded away into a black abyss. A single mote of light elevated from the ground and then exploded in a sudden rush of colors, light, and warmth. They were in a field like she might have frequented before he was captured. A blue, cloudless sky ahead with a field of pink wildflowers beneath their feet for as far as the eye could see. The sound of running water and wind through the trees was heavenly. Perhaps this had been a place she had known back then? Maybe he had just created it as a sculptor of dreams. Morpheus was a difficult creature to place. \n\nAfter a long pause, Morpheus spoke again. \"If mortals die, so to do we. I do not know how you think you will stop Olympus, the Tide Breakers, and your husband, but I would hear your plan.\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "*\"Sweet Persephone.\"*\n\nRare had she heard Morpheus speak, rarer still had he deemed to be softened in her presence, but she soon learned this was not the case. Harsh realities soon consumed her once more and the sounds of battle raged around them. Scorched earth cracked beneath her feet and the screams of children pierced her ears. \n\nTears stung at her eyes, ever stubborn in her nature she held fast against her fellow god. Unwilling to show weakness for as long as she could maintain the facade that this dream did not affect her in such devastating ways. Held, until she could take it no further. Her lip trembled, a single tear cascaded and stained her blood and soil stained cheeks. A line of the glowing skin that hid beneath fell dull in her misery. \n_ _\n\n\"Make it stop.\" She whispered in soft plea, dropping to her knees and covering her ears from the screams that continued to haunt her. Her heart far too shattered for mind to take action. \"Make it stop! Morpheus, please.\" It had been this easy to defeat her, for Hades lifeless body still lay before them and she felt nothing but a hollow empty as his lifeless eyes stared back. \n\nIt was then the ground shifted beneath them once more. An arrow landing at her feet as she stood, gaze adjusting to the floral paradise. Fields like those her mother watched over her in, before years of rebellion began. \n\n*\"If mortals die, so do we. I do not know how you think you will stop Olympus, the Tidebreakers, and your husband, but I would hear your plan.\"*\n\n\"I would never betray Hades in such a way.\" Her words were almost defensive, as she turned to Morpheus. There was always a glow about him, but in the dream world he seemed otherworldly. Magnificient. Awe-inspiring. Yet terrifying within these moments of the unknown. \"I do not wish to stop my husband. I only wish to placate him, lull the destruction he is sure to bring if he comes forth in wrath instead of logic and if you think Zeus or Poseidon won't use his wrath at the first chance... We are on borrowed time in their scheming and desperation to hold title of king among gods.\" She looked to a tree in the distance, swaying delicately in the wind. \n_ _\n\nA fond smile to see the pomegranate tree she remembered so fondly. Her first she nurtured to bloom among many in her centuries. \"As for Olympus... I do not wish to stop gods in their entirety. There are two that have decided destruction is the way, and two that will answer for their call to arms. Alexios has my abilities, but a strength that is underestimated ...As I often was in my youth. Athena works to bring harmony back amongst god and people. We use these two, we convince the self righteous to take action when the time is right and then we strike. Until then, I am but a humble healer among the rubble. I do not wish to fight flames with further fire, but water. We suffocate the flames of war, for a better tomorrow of harmony amongst gods and mortals once more.\"\n\nA small bite to her lip as she pondered how far she should go into the depths of her plans and schemes. \"I am afraid that is all I can tell you for now, Morpheus. All I can tell you until I learn what you would do with this information. For I know your role within Hades' armies, and I have never been fool enough to underestimate a fellow god, nor their wit.\" \n_ _" }, { "author": "papadrah", "message": "There was no joy in bringing Persephone to her knees. She was not delicate in the sense that others may have thought, but her heart was soft. She ached for Mortalkind in such ways that it reminded Morpheus of the human familial connection. A mother goddess, he thought to himself while watching her struggle to contend with the scene he portrayed. This was a lesson for her bold action, a warning of what she may create for her bold actions. It was by coincidence, not conscious, that he moved the scene onto something more peaceful and serene. He'd locked deserving mortals in hellish nightmares as punishment for displeasing him. Persephone was not deserving of that. \n\n\"I would never betray Hades in such a way.\"\n\nMorpheus, this time, did not pause. Despite his ponderous way of thinking and speaking, he was quick-witted and let it show through in moments when it served him best. \"Are you sure you haven't already?\" The question came with the park of a brow. \"I am concerned he may already see it that way.\" It was a gentle accusation, but nonetheless, that challenged her viewpoint. \"If this was not betrayal, why are we keeping it secret?\" \n\nThe vibrant dream was a wash in colors. It was a pleasing, peaceful feast for the senses. Yet amongst them stood a shadow of darkness. Morpheus chose to appear in dark clothing, with his already darker features serving to act as a void that swallowed the beauty around him. That was not to say he was not handsome and appealing in his own right, but he stood out amongst the vibrancy like a cancer. He was alien to such lights and operated in shadow. This setting did not suit him, but this was more for her benefit than his own.\n\nWith another wave of his hand, grass rapidly grew and took the shape of a chair for her to sit in. Another appeared a respectful distance from across her, and he lowered to take his seat once he had felt she was situated. She would not feel fatigued in the dream, but comfort was something he could provide. The connection between the dreaming mind and the wake was still very close. \"You dance upon the razor's edge on shoes made of silk, Persephone.\" Morpheus crossed one leg over the other and watched her keenly. \"You empower a mortal to defend his realm, which -most- gods would see as a challenge to their divine strength. What do you think the brutes amongst our kind would do if they had the faintest idea? Never mind your husband's volatile, protective nature. Hades loves you above all else and may see reason through your words. The others?\" His head shook, but he did not elaborate. \n\nThe conversation came to its point. What would Morpheus do? The safe assumption would be that, given his loyalty to the Lord of the Underworld, he would inform him of what he'd learned. That had been his role in the past. Yet, he sat there and thought back to Hecate's words on the banks of the Styx. After a moment of searching, he locked eyes with the woman. \"I do not wish to split your house. To tell Hades now would send him into action. I am loyal, and should this be uncovered, I hope you would speak to that on my behalf, but I see no reason we should try to undo what can't be undone.\"\n\nWith that, he nodded. \"I would hear the rest, though. I do not wish to haunt your dreams to pick morsels when they come to the surface. I would prefer if my show of faith in you was rewarded by your show of faith in me..\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "Her hazel eyes studied him, a gleam of gold as her thoughts were worn upon a tightened scowl of thought. \"Fine, as you wish...\" Persephone relented within the chair, a sound of breath leaving her chest as she looked upon the field. Looked to the tree before them, before resting upon the glorious features of dark shadows rippling around the dreamweaver himself. \n\n\"I am not viewed within Olympus as I am in the Underworld, Morpheus. My champions have not been known throughout time to be a challenge, but instead an action of my bleeding heart. To those within the shrouded mountains of gold, I am Lifebringer, I am the plants that grow and nourish, and the touch that heals.\" Her voice grew softer as shame seeped through her words. \"I am the weak daughter of Demeter that plowed and nurtured the fields, as I always was. A pretty play thing to the god of the Underworld, his weakness. I am not ...My own to them. I do not think they will see any action of me championing Alexios as anything other than a desperate attempt to save my beloved mortals.\" She plucked a pomegranate from the air and let it wither within her hands, dropping it within the same action as if to prove her coming point. \n_ _\n\n\"This is what I hope for. To remain within their gaze. To openly heal and plead for the lives that I do care for, that I do desperately wish to save. To seem the humble Persephone, dearest daughter that pleads and cries for those she can not save, that pleads...\" The earth beneath her rotted and cascaded beyond. \"...And begs, rather than a woman capable of action.\" Life seemed to seep from the soil Morpheus had provided within this realm, and darkness cascaded. \"So many above have forgotten already what it meant to become Hades' queen. Within his realm I found my voice.\" Persephone surrendered herself so completely to darkness so perverse, whispers within, that it seemed to become her. The tree beyond them turning and twisting within a mirage before it took form of a raging beast, mad with bloodshed as he searched for a victim with unmatched ferocity. \"...And my power.\" \n\n\"It is not only dreams that one can work within the shadows.\" The beast turned once more to a butterfly, landing upon her fingertips with a gentle nature. \"Did you know that Poseidon and Zeus have gathered followers? Humans, demigods...\" The butterfly twisted once more, a form of a woman took shape. A woman bare of clothing, and beautiful in every way a mortal could be. Golden hair cascading around shoulder and breast as her head bowed and she kneeled before her Queen. \n\n\"Please.\" Her frail voice pleaded with the goddess before her, a tinge of pain twisting at her tongue as her hand moved to grip her stomach. \n_ _\n\n\"This one...\" Persephone looked down upon the woman who now begged at her feet. \"Betrayed her entire family. Sent her own children to the slaughter for riches. For fame beneath a god's eyes, for favoritism in the coming days, so that she may live in safety... As her children cried for her. Cried for the woman that was supposed to protect them.\" A cry of pain came from the woman as she shifted, her eyes becoming bloodshot and her lips twisting in contorted rage. Persephone seemed to find an enjoyment from this, a rarity for one to see this side of the goddess, the beautiful wraith that lived within.\n\nA beast sprang forth and charged upon Morpheus, teeth sharpened and drooling and eyes of red as it towered above. Yet just as it lunged, a butterfly burst forth from the form and flew off into the dream-like background of golden sun, reaching over the horizon. \n\n\"Cursebringer, beastmaker, she who shall not be named. This is what I've become within the depths... But I have remained knowing that humans are not meant to serve, but protect, while others have only furthered their need for praise and treated them as nothing short of cattle. Livestock that sings their name and surrounds them when they so choose. That praise... Shall be their downfall.\"" }, { "author": "papadrah", "message": "Typically, Morpheus took it as a sign of disrespect to let someone else take control of his realm, but he did not look at Persephone in vain \"Someone.\" It was akin to letting Hades direct the dream through him to explain his points and visualize his strategy and what he wanted. Everything the dream god did was in given the most casual bit of energy. With a leg crossed at the knee, only his foot would just tap the air now and again to signal that he was not a still image. The world around him withered and died. Rot so visceral he could breathe in its putrid fumes prodded his senses. This place reminded him of a bog with its guardian snarling somewhere off to his right. \n\nYet, while others might have been taken with exploring with their eyes, his gaze never left front facing and forward. The girl was of no consequence. The beast could not harm him. What interested him was the most minute detail of Persephone's beautiful visage. What she spoke of was not untrue. The way their kindred thought of her boarded on gross insult in terms of how much they underestimated. She was the bride of Hades, not Persephone. The wise knew differently. Those who paid attention beyond their short-sighted chest beating knew what she was capable of. \n\nFrom the shadows of time, Morpheus saw all, for while some spheres only touched the lives of some now and again, all passed through his realm. Sleep, the contract that bound all, gave him access to peer from afar and study those of a special interest. Persephone had always been a special interest. She was not born to the Underworld, yet she belonged more than any other save only the one who birthed this realm. \n\nThe smile that spread across his features was one of pride in his queen, though she could have probably interpreted it as anything but. So far as gods went, many saw Morpheus as sardonic and condescending. With her story ending, he began a slow clap. Two heartbeats could pass between each, which eventually led to him rising from his seat with the grace of a boundless shadow. The chair he'd sat upon melded into the once-ground field. With a wave, her conjurations vanished as if they had never been there in the first place. \n\n\"My chest swells with pride, my sovereign. Rare is one of our kind that can play themselves small and put aside their own aggrandizement. You are wise.\" With a bow of his head, he showed her respect. There would be no kneeling before her. No grand gestures to show her his loyalty. To have the Dream Lord's word was his bond. \"To tell Lord Hades of what I learned here today would only work to undo what you have done and set us back further.\" His words came with consideration. He spoke slowly but with intent. In truth, she would never know that her perception of time had been altered within this realm to allow him a dozen moments to consider every angle. To her, his response would look instant. This was simply one of the tricks he used to make himself seem the apex of wisdom. \n\n\"I will hold your secrets, and I will aid you in whatever way I can. If you wish to know the dreams or thoughts of others, I can provide this. If you wish someone to -truly- suffer, I offer you my wrath. My only condition is that -when- Lord Hades finds out, my involvement in this is kept hidden. If it comes to light, I expect you would protect me as if I were one of your most cherished.\" He knew the danger of conspiracy. While they were not acting against Hades, he could have seen it as such. The Lord of the Underworld would not seek to obliterate her, but Morpheus was not so intimately beloved. If he strayed too far, the yank on his leash could separate head from neck." }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n\nPersephone regarded Morpheus with a measured gaze that spoke to none of her thoughts within. Her expression remained calm and composed, despite the unsettling surroundings. She acknowledged his words, his claps and praise, with a deep nod of her chin, recognizing the significance of the Dream Lord's respect and cooperation. \" I appreciate your understanding, Morpheus. Your insights are invaluable, and I trust your discretion. I would not wish for such an ally to lose position, or self, over my husband's wrath. Your loyalty in your silence will be rewarded with my own. This, I promise you. If Hades' is to find out of the plots I have placed within the realm to overthrow those that would place ego above all else, then it will be me and me alone that falls to his anger.\"\n\nShe observed Morpheus with a thoughtful gaze, her mind processing the implications of his offer. \"Your abilities are indeed potent, and your willingness to assist me is beyond anything I could have hoped to come from this. However...\" She paused as if coming to her own implications and understanding in this, and what the help of the man who delved between dreams could bring. The innocence of the goddess of Spring no longer masking the plotting that often lay beneath, she finally spoke once more. \"...Let us tread cautiously. Our actions must serve the delicate balance of the Underworld in its neutrality. I do not wish to unravel the fabric that binds us, but rather, weave a more resilient tapestry that can not be undone.\"\n_ _\n\nPersephone continued, \"I do not seek to wield power for its own sake, but to safeguard the realm and those within it. If your aid can contribute to that end without compromising the harmony we strive for, then I accept. Just remember, Morpheus, the shadows can be both allies and adversaries. Let our collaboration be a dance of subtlety, not a disruptive storm. The Gods must never know of our divine touch within their schemes. I trust you to be discreet.\" \n\nStanding from her chair, Persephone moved with the grace she had been blessed with in her divinity once more. Moving throughout the dream realm towards the shrouded god of dreams and nightmares, a silent request to be released to the waking realm once more. Standing before him with the soft light of the dream realm casting ethereal shadows on her features, Persephone regarded Morpheus with a calm yet piercing gaze. The air seemed charged with the unspoken weight of their agreement and the potential consequences that lurked in the shadows. As she extended her hand towards him, a subtle smile played on her lips. Despite the solemnity of their conversation, there was a glimmer of confidence and determination in her eyes.\n_ _\n\n\"...And Morpheus, from one that is often underestimated to another, thank you for letting me show you my visions through the realm in which you rule.\" Her eyes gleamed with a knowing mischief, the knowledge of a man that could have obliterated every scene she built within her mind and thrown her in a cage of her own nightmares until she begged for release, and promised him anything to do such. A test of her own, placed before him, to see if he was a man worthy of her trust and respect. One that he had excelled within unknowingly, earning the quick respect of his Queen, and the true trust of a future confidant. Any god that placed his ego aside for knowledge and understanding was admirable beyond her spoken praise. \n\n\"Until our paths cross again, Dream Lord.\"\n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n\n𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "Deep within the Citadel is an opulent chamber where the god of the Underworld holds court. A massive obsidian throne sits atop a dais, and the room is adorned with dark tapestries depicting scenes of the afterlife. This is where Hades makes decisions on the fates if souls and oversees the working of his domain." }, { "author": "goOgotesha", "message": "It had been a rollercoaster of emotions for Momus over the last twenty-four hours, but the one at the forefront of everything was *Shock.* It wasn't a new emotion for him, but it was an unfamiliar one. As a jester of the court and overall critic of all things god-related, politics-related, world-related, and well, anything-and-everything-related, he was usually the one surprising everyone else. \n\nBut finding out that *He* Was the god of satire and mockery was a pretty big deal, and something he didn't expect to learn while stuck in a stocks.\n\nBody bent over at the waist, head and hands locked in a row, Momus found himself in quite the predicament after calling out a *Certain* King about *Certain* Tax laws that were *Certainly* Going to harm the lower class. He had put on a public song and dance on the steps in front of the palace walls, drawing a small crowd who began to get a little *Excitable.* Laughter turned into conversation, conversation turned into outrage, outrage turned into shouts and calls for change. Momus successfully riled everyone up, but that was where his plan ended. \n\nAfter all, he wasn't a rebel. Just the shit-stirrer. \n\nWhatever traction the crowd had was quickly lost when guards were released onto them. Momus was called out as the problem and he was quickly taken into custody. From there, an example was to be made of him. Since he liked attention so much, the king hoped to break his spirit by putting him in the stocks in the city center. What he couldn't have guessed was that Momus would use that opportunity to continue his usual routine and spout of jokes, insults, songs, and all kinds of entertainment for the public.\n\nThat's when he caught the attention of none other than Hades, King of the Underworld. For whatever reason, the god was passing through the city and was drawn to Momus - for his charming good looks? His humor? Who knows? - and approached him to get a closer look. Thus, the surprise was revealed to him. Momus was a god himself. \n\nThat would explain how he had yet to grow old or die like normal mortals.\n\nReminded of who he truly was, Momus's memories seemed to flood back into him like water breaking through a dam. He set himself free of the stocks, thanked Hades for finding him and refreshing his memory, and snapped his fingers to make the clothes disappear off of the king's body which made him a mockery of all those in the public square. His work in the mortal world done - though many would argue that the things he did was hardly considered \"Work,\" - he dedicated himself to Hades' and followed him into the Underworld. \n\nIt had been a few centuries since he was banned from Olympus, and only slightly less time where he was living as a mortal believing himself to be just that. He wondered how many gods had forgotten about him. Would his mother and siblings even recognize him anymore? It was one of many thoughts crossing his mind as he passed through the different parts of the Underworld, following Hades all the way to his throne room. There, he was told to wait while Hades left the room. \n\nNerves filled his gut - another unfamiliar feeling - as he waited in the large room, still slowly remembering parts of his past that he had forgotten for so long. He couldn't remember exactly how he looked, so he tested out different faces while he stood around, shifting from man to woman, then back to a man while he tried on different looks." }, { "author": "NYX", "message": "Nyx Nocturne hall, an awe-inspiring sanctum, was carved from obsidian and illuminated by a soft, otherworldly glow emanating from flames flickering in onyx sconces, casting eerie shadows on the walls. High above the vaulted ceiling, the night sky was adorned with constellations. Tall, shadowy columns wrapped in intricate carvings depicted the myths and mysteries of the Night. Sharp talon-like nails ran across the golden carvings, reminiscing over fond memories of her children until her dark eyes settled on a particular carving that brought great sadness to her.\n\n**\"My mockful child. . . Momus. . .\"** Her voice was gentle, yet sorrow laced her words. \n\nThe primordial goddess had not seen her son for a few centuries. Momus, unfairly banished from heavenly Olympus, was the personification of mockery and blame; how was it his fault for criticising the gods? Despite what occurred, Nyx was proud of him; she believed the pantheon needed to be humbled occasionally. After his banishment to the mortal realm, she would scour the land for her son every night, her heart heavy with longing and hope. Yet, despite her best efforts and the cautious advice of others, nothing came of it.\n\nWith her eyes closed, Nyx contemplated the situation until a creature of the Night timidly entered her hall. **\"Speak plain.\"** She commanded, her eyes still closed, but the primordial goddess could sense its presence. \"O' Mother Night. Momus has returned-!\" Before the creature could finish, Nyx had lifted her hand to demand silence. Without a word from her lips, the creature of the Night understood and immediately shifted into the shadows, where it disappeared from sight. The tiniest smile cracked at the end of her lips as she exited the hall.\n\nUpon discovering where her son was, Nyx swiftly entered Hades' throne room, where she observed the nervous god from the darkness as he repeatedly shifted into many forms: from a man to a woman, then back to man. His confusion was palpable, his struggle with his identity evident. Did he not recognise himself? Would he not recognise his mother? Questions plagued Nyx's thoughts as she watched. Clearly, he was wrestling with his identity, which made her heart ache. However, she needed to confirm her suspicions.\n\nSuddenly, the flickering flames that lit the throne room extinguished one by one. Gradually, the room lost its light source as a towering shadow, mixed with the colours of a nebula as if galaxies were being born, emerged before Momus. Its wings extended outwards, almost threatening to sweep the furniture away before the wings gracefully settled. Her face was hard to see except for the two pure white eyes, resembling twinkling stars, that gazed down, studying the nervous deity.\n\n**\"State your name and business in the Underworld, child.\"** Despite her terrifying presence, Nyx's voice was motherly. An instinctive feeling screamed that the god was her son, but she needed confirmation to settle the clawing doubts in her head." }, { "author": "goOgotesha", "message": "To normal people, being in the Underworld might have been unnerving. Uncomfortable. Completely unheard of. And maybe if Momus was a normal person, he might have felt all three of those things and more. Hell, earlier that day, he was just living what he thought was a human existence in a world that didn't accept criticism and damn good jokes. Now he stood in Hades' throne room waiting for a punchline. Surely this all had to be a big joke, right? Though he didn't exactly see Hades as the joking type. \n\nAs his face shifted from one form to another, the room darkened. He paused, his face stuck on an old woman as he looked toward the extinguished flame. His brow furrowed before his face changed again, this time into a young man with blonde hair. Right when he switched, another flame went out. His back straightened and his frown flipped over to a smile. He assumed he was somehow putting the fires out with each change. He shifted again. Another flame. Again, and— \n\n\"*State your name and business in the Underworld, child,*\" A voice boomed behind him, making him jump forward with a shout as if he'd just been shoved. \n\nHe spun around, eyes wide and mouth agape as he took in the sight of something that should have petrified anyone. Darkness filled the room, but it wasn't pure black like one might expect; it was deep and full of hues of blue, green, purple, and sparkled with two bright white orbs that looked like stars among the vast expanse of a mini galaxy.\n\nMomus was shocked, but not for the reason many would assume. \n\nEverything flooded back into him all at once; memories that were long forgotten while he was a \"Human.\" There was a time before, when he was a god and both loved and hated in Olympus. He was banned from the realm only to get lost in another for centuries. \n\nHis face shifted again, but this time it became its original form - a picture of youth that the darkness would recognize. Only he knew that darkness without hesitation and his surprise brightened into a wide grin. \n\n\"Mother!\" He barely registered her demand, and stepped forward with his arms wide open. \"Mother, it's me! Momus!\"" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "Hades and Persephone's bed chambers embody the union of darkness and light, blending the ethereal beauty of the goddess with the somber majesty of the god of the Underworld. Carved from obsidian and adorned with precious jewels that gleam with a faint, otherworldly luminescence, the chambers are a testament to the divine love that binds the king and queen of the Underworld. The bed itself is a masterpiece of craftsmanship, draped in sumptuous fabrics woven from the shadows of the night and the hues of springtime blooms, symbolizing the union of Hades' realm with Persephone's realm of life and renewal. Above the bed, a canopy of interwoven branches and blossoms creates a celestial bower, casting dappled shadows across the room like patterns of moonlight filtering through a forest canopy. The walls are adorned with tapestries depicting scenes from their timeless love story, while flickering torches cast a warm, flickering glow that bathes the chamber in a soft, inviting light. Here, amidst the embrace of darkness and light, Hades and Persephone find solace in each other's arms, their love a beacon of hope and renewal in the shadowy depths of the Underworld." }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "Persephone's steps echoed through the hallowed halls of the Underworld as she made her way to the shared rooms. Dark vines followed in darkness beneath her steps, the muted play of shadows creating an otherworldy tapestry around their queen. In the realm of perpetual twilight, where echoes of the departed lingered, she sought a respite from the weight of her responsibilities. She sought a place she had long since claimed solace within, with the man she had claimed a quiet peaceful life with, over the gilded cage and watchful eye of Demeter. To everyone else within the presence of their king, Hades was a stern presence of unrelenting authority. To Persephone, she found a man willing to soften within her arms, and together they had found a vulnerability that was both returned and welcomed. \n\nShe had shared in his burdens of ruling, insisted on taking the weight upon his shoulders and delegating. Stubbornly, she continued to teach the man surrounded by end that life could also be held of importance within his realm of death. It was that man that came within her sights upon the balcony, the balcony that held her most rare forms of floral she had carefully cultivated to grow within his shadows. To grow within their private space, so that he could be reminded of her when he cast his gaze upon his realm and she returned to the mortals for spring. Her feet moved with an ease that Persephone held nowhere else, her arms wrapping behind him as her head lay to rest against his warmth. \n\n\"I was wondering where you had managed to escape to. I admit I thought I would catch you within the deep end of your work once more.\" \n\nHer hands laid to rest on the place where his chest rose and fell, where his life force thudded beneath her hands and reminded her of the truth many seemed to conveniently forget. Hades, too, was a god of warmth, of responsibility, and of a realm he fiercely cast his protection over. Her other hand moving to intertwine with his own, a current of connection\n\nFlowing through her at his slightest touch. Transcending the eons they had spent presiding over the Underworld, their unspoken bond one that had been told amongst the people for longer than her mind could care to remember. \n\n\"I spoke to Charon today. The ferry and docks are overwhelmed, Hades, my love. I know you wish to keep us safe down here, uninvolved with the mass extinction of Olympian your brothers are supplying... But for how long must we remain silent to this?\" \n\nShe knew the topic she approached with gentle tone was one that teetered on the edge of their bond. A recent form of argument between a man who wished to protect the only realm he had ever known, and the woman who was forever torn between his kingdom and the life she had once been loyal to. \n_ _" }, { "author": "valqine", "message": "*There was little to be concealed within the sanctuary of his chambers, an enclosed space that whilst exterior walls forged of obsidian refused entry of any circumstance, a foreboding architecture of gothic and macabre nature that somehow locked fingers with regality stood proud. The hallways themselves having a chill, a soft murmuring that beckons lesser minds to succumb to their temptations only to be dragged into the clutches of the various protectors. No. It was within this confined albeit large abode that Hades wasn't Kind of the Underworld but Husband of Persephone. It was on the exterior balcony that his blackened overcoat of gothic design, intertwining itself throughout a half undone black buttoned shirt that revealed slight bits of the collarbone came the man. He watched.*\n\n*Each morsel of this ashen landscape veiled within shadow that served as both hellish torment for the putrid filth of above and the delighted gift for those who earned it truly, his Kingdom. The Kingdom that was soon to be under pressure from the overwhelming war that constantly threatened to break out from above, did both brothers have to act like children? Could they not be content in making their own little forts and being Kings themselves? The thought caused a soft chuckle to part soft lips into an otherwise aerie eve.*\n\n*Then did his thoughts fracture as his warmth came to slide behind him, each digit caressing and kneading into flesh, a left hand rising to meet one of her own in an interlock of intimacy. That thud of his heart increasing ever so slightly, a flush of heat that tainted skin into a groan of contentment. Persephone. The free hand came to move of its own accord, playfully moving to drag her around his form, letting the small of her back feel the obsidian railing as his heated lips screamed desperation as they interlocked with her own. Only when it broke, reluctantly did a hand move to caress her cheek.*\n_ _\n\n\"My beloved spring, I'm a little hurt you'd think I would be buried in my work when I could be granting the most precious thing of all to me attention. You. Every rose needs nurturing, though I do have a fondness for the thorns.\" *He claimed softly, a smirk playfully tugging at his lips only to finally respond to the statement about Charon.* \"He will do his duty. Our silence isn't out of protection my beloved but of acknowledgement.\" *Then did his eyes trail beyond her a bit out to the vast intricacy of the Underworld.* \"Should the Underworld march upon my whim then the realm of the living would be scarred, Morpheus and Hecate alone could bring about an endless sleep and horror should they place their strength into it, cascading like a brides veil upon it all. You. Darling. Could bring about endless unluck, tragedy and strife as crops go into ruination.\"\n\n*A deep inhale followed before an exhale, as if to gather his thoughts.*\n\n\"It is best if the Mortals suffer at the hands of natural disasters, for that to them is conceivable. War, plague, storms, sea. These are all easily accepted by their small minds and allows their very society to keep functioning.\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "A soft giggle, melodic and full of life, escaped his queen as she folded back into his warmth. Her back resting against the steadfast reassurance of obsidian while his lips claimed her own. A kiss, his kiss, a fleeting dance within a symphony of desire that echoed through the silent corridors of eternity. It had never been enough for Persephone, nor would it, the way this king of the cold, the lifeless beneath the realm of the living, warmed her to the very tips of her toes with a love that went beyond sense and surpassed the boundaries of realms. \n\nHis touch, both commanding and tender, brought her back to his gaze. His smirk met with her own in these rare moments they shared. Where the life of every undead was no longer their responsibility and they were simply... Them. Two beings who fell into bliss, and wished to remain undisturbed within it. \"My thorns are simply nature's way of keeping you on your toes. We wouldn't want the King to become complacent upon his throne. A touch of mischief and whimsy does you some good, my heart.\" Her finger reached up in this, a playful tap against the tip of his nose before she brushed another delicate kiss against his jaw. \n_ _\n\nSo quickly did her feelings turn somber at his words, sobering thoughts of the realities he faced. He was doing what he sought was the best answer in all of this, and perhaps it was. Persephone feeling the pang of guilt from the truths she kept hidden. \" I know.\" Her whisper was full of melancholy, a breathy surrender against his neck. \"I just...\" She was at a loss for words. What was one to argue against such logic? Hades was right in this, the underworld was made to be a terrifying depth of power and uncertainty. It was made for the morality of man, demigods, and gods alike, to think every action through before taking part in chaos and ruin. \n\n\"I could also bring healing. Bring life to those that have fallen at the hands of your brethren. If you would only let me, Hades...\" \n\nHer lips found several delicate places against his neck that had convinced him to bend to her will before. A fleeting hope that she might sway him to her understanding with the simple actions of her undying love. A desperate try to bring him within the folds of her secrets and sanctuaries, knowing the truth of it in every soft touch of lips against skin. His protective nature could never simply watch her walk into the ruins, left not knowing if she would return to his arms. \"I could help them, my love.\" \n_ _" }, { "author": "valqine", "message": "*There was a heated hitch of an exhale, a clear rasp within his voice as soft words reached deep within his ears but more so, that surgical assault of slightly wet lips meeting flesh that caused goosebumps to begin cascade across his form. It was a weakness. The weakness. Persephone knew when to tug at certain frayed threads of his willpower, though only she could pull on those strings to reveal the vulnerability beneath. Beauty and brains, a loyalty that hadn't ever been compromised, such melancholy from his ray of life harmed more than a thousand bolts from Zeus. It stung. Lingered. He despised it. It was evident to only him that she ached to bring about hope.*\n\n\"Persephone.\"\n\n*Her name uttered as if the sweetest nectar, a hand raising to knead into their outer thigh with desperation only to drag and lift with an eagerness of Ceberus who found a new hunt, allowing the final resting seat to be the obsidian railing and the harsh grip that wrapped about the waist. There was another kiss, though retracting lightly after, a gentle pressure from the tip of his nose to her own. It was a sign of affection.* \"I can't in good conscience let you interfere, to place you in harm's way of all that is out there and is to come would be a sentence of death. You're safe here, those who survive will need that ray of spring to bring them life through your harvest.\"\n\n*There was a tinge of guilt from saying no to his Queen, a woman who behind closed doors would find him kneeling for certain situations. Only her. She had always enjoyed that birth of life and it felt cruel to deny this of her, yet the Underworld would have to hold fast in the times to come.* \"I've never faltered-\" *His forehead shifting to meet her own.* \"Nor failed you before have I not? Just give it time. Engage with your subjects, tend to those who walk in the fields of Elysium. I promise it'll be over before you know it.\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "*\"Persephone.\"*\n\n\"Hm?\" Her voice vibrated against him in a soft declaration. Breath hitching as he played the games she dared, turning them against her with every movement of his hands against her skin. He ignited a trail of sensations along every line he drew, and she responded in such with exhales of loving pleasure. Her forehead leaned against his nose as she attempted to catch herself. To bring forth her mind and thoughts when he so easily clouded every ounce of logic with the replacement of lust. \n\n\"Hades...\" Her heart was shattered at his words. She knew that he meant well, but there was an anxious thought deep within that had begun to brew and fester. That pleading scream to break free from yet another gilded cage. Never before had she felt this way about the underworld, but never before had her King told her she was not able to leave upon her own will. \"Do not cage me, my love. I beg of you.\" A tear escaped down her cheek, a reminder of the days when she first longed for an escape. Searched within the fields of harvest, until she found the route to the depths of his realm. Until she found home. \n\nA sigh escaped her now, a storm of emotions rushing within her as she attempted to remain above ground. To not be swallowed whole by the helplessness she felt within this moment. \"Do not ask me to stand by and do nothing, please Hades.\" Her hand rested against his chest in timid gesture, her forehead resting further against him as she let another tear drop from her cheek. A shimmering jewel of life that bloomed a bud beneath them as it reached the ground. \n\n\"Their pleas keep me awake at night, their screams haunt me. I can not sleep, yet I wish not to be awake. All I hear are the people, my people, who have chosen to worship me only to be met with silence. Do not ask me to remain this way, my heart, I beg of you. There must be something we can do.\" \n_ _" }, { "author": "valqine", "message": "*The way her palm met his chest, a soft exhale of elation running through his form of the feeling. It was beneath that ribcage, a soft thrumming, heart pumping and banging so Persephone could both feel and hear the rise. The love. It was only a touch that was necessary to bring forth a softness, crumbling obsidian into powder and pulling out a softness within the core of Hades which was often never seen or merely forgotten. By both subject and master alike. It ached to see such pleas, often preferring a different form of begging by his beloved within the confines of the bedchamber. Their space to be as to be. Lord of Undeath. Slave to love.*\n\n*Yet it was the single tear which rolled down Persephones precious cheek that coaxed his retort, a hand raising for a thumb to collect and dismiss it with haste, there would be no such thing staining such a face. Unless it was part of some fun. The way it hurt her, was unacceptable. The soft lips parting to press into her own, hushing those desperate plea for the briefest moment, forehead placed against her own after retracting.* \"Beloved, I won't allow you to feel caged... Your tears sting me more than a thousand steel curled whips,.\" *It was a reluctant capitulation though a necessary one for her sake.*\n\n\"There shall be a gathering and I will bring forth all those who are a part of this tantrum, within my own grounds. You may lead alongside those of our subjects willing to attempt to end this farce once and for all. It would be the Empress assuring the children cease their misbehaving.\" *The ragged exhale following, concern clearer than the radiance of Apollo on his features, glancing about Persephone. She held so much love for everything, yet there was an element of optimism that he felt was lost on this situation.* \"Just be cautious Persephone, not all care for this idea of peace. They are as barbaric as the Gauls of old, some thirst for this violence... I doubt they would strike so brazenly on my own territory.\"\n_ _\n\n*Yet... It was exploitable.*\n\n\"Just make sure you do this not with the idea that any shall listen, I imagine there are some who wish to avoid outright war but I do not overthink that any of them, including those here who might wish to be released of their shackles as if the Dark days returned. Could. Would. Use it as a means to gather information.\" *He plea'd himself a little, though nodding firmly.* \"But I have faith you will succeed, regardless of my own worry.\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "There was a moment of elation that rushed over her at his words, his promises. Her eyes brightened with the hope of a start. A conversation that could lead to a hush over the war torn cities she had walked far too often. \"Thank you, my love.\" An excited pounce upon her toes as her lips met his cheek. His words of warning heard, tempered excitement leaving her to trail her lips across every surface of skin she could find. \n\n\"I will proceed with caution, my dearest King. Caution and grace.\" Her hands trailed from the sharp line of his jaw to the sensitive nerves along his collar until they found the hands she had tangled her fingers within and made a home. Leading him towards the siren song of their sheets with a telling flame in her eyes. \n_ _\n\n_ _\n\n```....Fade to black. End Scene.```\n_ _" }, { "author": "valqine", "message": "*There was a haste to each step by the Lord of the Underworld, causing a mass litany of smoked torches to flicker with an intoxicating sensation that refused to relent. It was without hesitation that many a being was on alert, whispers of their Empress being injured during an assault on the surface world had decidedly made even those unspoken, unflinching armed skeletal forces even more still. It was a reckoning, Hades need only confirm that his warmth had almost grew cold by the hands of mortals armed by an unknown provider, thus a response as ruthless as it was without care. They would suffer. Suffer more. It would never be enough but for now? Persephone was his focus. Those above would be dragged below.*\n\n*Tsk.*\n\n*The corridors ever winding of obsidian did not dissuade their liege either, some walls even breaking apart as if brittle only to reform behind to which a chamber was in sight alongside Charon. It was a sharp dressed man, offering a kneel to a furious God who at this moment could see anything as slight. Emotions heated beyond Posideon and Zeus's own impulse. Were both of his little brothers so desperate for him to bring his ire down to the other? It was not something that any sibling wanted to consider. \"How?\" He muttered with concern dripping from his mouth, a glance to the large obsidian door which held a criss cross of vines that his darling designed. She loved to make everything feel warm.*\n_ _\n\n\"Your Emminence, I believe the mortals somehow turned her mortal in a temporary fashion. We are still seeking to undo any dilution in her blood.\" *Charon restored with a haste, expecting the retort of Hades letting out a roar of rage, an ethereal fist of decay slamming into obsidian as the Underworld shook at its masters uproar. Those about witnessing this energy of necrosis corrode, spreading until a snap of thumb and finger ceased this corruption.* \"They violate her so? I will not tolerate this incompetence from those who attended that Gala.\" *An unspoken promise.*\n\n*Then the door creaked open.*\n\n*Hades brought his attention to their chambers with a warmth within his smile, a hand waving to increase the temperature of the hearths to match a ray of sunshine despite the usual chill that he basked him. The mere sight of his devoted Empress being like this brought a welling of tears in his eyes, cloak falling to the floor effortlessly as he moved to be beside her, a hand caressing digits as lips pressed softly onto her forehead. *\"Persephone...\" *The name uttered as if any raise of his tone could break her... Or him...*" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "❝ ⌜Who said you can't wear a flower crown and still be a fearsome thing.⎯ ✶⌝ ❞\n \nTitle. [Ave Maria](\nSetting. Hades' Bedchambers \nCharacters. ⁠ , \nPings/Mentions. Mentions \nNotes: \n \n⋆.˚ ☪︎ ִ ࣪ .𖥔˚.\n \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n_ _\n\nShe had sent Morpheus away, as soon as her conscious body had been placed against the familiar confines of her chambers. Insisted that he step into the safety of his realm until she was able to calm Hades of the wrath he was sure to unleash at the sight of her. Not wanting those loyal to be within the path of darkness and rage as it reached out like a whip against the light. Now she sit against the velvet of her chair, the fire warming skin as she stubbornly sparked her magic. Again. \n\n\"Fuck!\" \n\nIt was a subconscious fear she would not admit, to lose power within herself, when she had worked so hard to gain. To gain the absence of taunting at a weak willed bird within a cage. She was the Queen, his Queen, and she would not let herself fall to the casting of glances and murmur of words once more. More so, her healing was of detriment need to those above, and she would not fail them now in her own weakness. A spark again, light emanating from the abdomen that remain torn at the cloth and bruised beyond recognition. Her breathing sounded of a ragged animal crawling for scraps of life, but one would guess she was anything but at death's door the way she still held her spark of life in the glint of those hazel eyes. \n_ _\n\n*\"Persephone.\"* \n\nGently, the Queen raised her chin with defiance. Tears welling within her eyes as she looked upon Charon. He had always been far gentler with her than his cold nature hinted to, but his voice spoke a soothing song in this moment. \"I know.\" Persephone responded with a slight pout to her lip and a slump within her chair. To be weak once more, for her, was perhaps a worse fate than death itself. \n\n*\"I can hear your thoughts lil' one, you leave them plainly on your face, and you are wrong. Besides... He needs you.\"*\n\nThey both looked to her chamber doors as Charon moved to greet his master and long time friend. Persephone scowling in worry and attempting to lift herself from the chair to follow along. Only to find the gravity of her injuries weighing her down, and casting her against the stone flooring in a fit of wheezing and coughing, a pool of blood forming in her hands. \"No...\" She knew what it would do to Hades to see her this way. No corner of the mortal realm would be safe as he cast his heartbreak upon them in the form of vengeance. \n\nHis form soon around her in a warming envelopment. Her name cast like a balm from his tongue. *\"Persephone...\"* A whisper against her skin as she placed a brave smile upon her cheeks. \"I'm alright love. I'm alright.\" - but her voice cracked within this statement and she looked a blundering disaster beneath him. A handprint of her own blood left against his cheek as she reached to reassure him. \"It's only a scratch.\" \n\nThough never before had Persephone looked more vulnerable. Her dress of changing floral was tattered, leaving little of the bruised and broken body to imagination. Charon had insisted in her changing but Persephone ushered him away at the thought. Settling in the compromise of the blanket that lay cast along the chair she had sat upon moments ago. \n\nHer face. One of spring innocence and true beauty, was bruised with a swell of colors that made it look as if Iris' had painted the rainbow across her c\n\nHeek. Yet still, she painted a smile across it for her love to see and a kiss against the corner of his lips where he would not see her flinch in pain. \"It's alright, my love.\"\n_ _" }, { "author": "valqine", "message": "*The Lord of the Underworld came across a sight that forced an abrupt halt within his core, tattered clothing that revealed pain, a vulnerability Hades himself promised would not be without repercussions nor would it occur during their wedding day. Weakness. His Empress. To hear such words fall on his ears, she was not alright. Each hand of his began to delicately trace across the bruised flesh... The fingertips gliding across each, a warm kiss that dotted the corner of his lips. Did she think he was unaware of the pain merely moving caused her?*\n\n*Someone, a God, did this... All of them were... Guilty.*\n\n*That fuel of emotion that flickered like a raging inferno, igniting in his stomach that raised with no intent of quelling, each arm wishing to tightly squeeze her into a safety but aware such would only elicit further pain. No. For now it was about her. A soft quiver of the lower lip falling suit as anguish that held no end at the bottom, only matched by a rage that would cast all of the mortal realm into shadow..*\n\n\"Persephone. Beloved.\"\n\n*He hurriedly stated, a hand raising to caress her cheek with the thumb wiping away droplets and refusing to buckle under a pressure that begged to be released.* \"You are so strong, I will spend the rest of eternity begging for forgiveness. If it was not for my ignorance to their ways, you would not be like this... Harmed...\" *The word basically stuck in his throat, tightening as verbalizing such failure only enhanced the pain it caused. A delicate movement saw him lift her, raising from the stone as he tried to dismiss the existence of vermillion being from her and some poor servant who received the ire of the Queen of Curses.*\n_ _\n\n*The woman found herself on the sheets eventually, moving grab a dressing gown, silky and smooth. It was then her hand was slowly removed from the tattered clothing, gently moving to wrap her in the safety of such fabric without issue.* \"I am going to run a bath for you, there won't be any movement unless you're being catered to right now. They all say you did wonderfully in bringing them altogether my love, truly... You should be proud.\" *It was better to offer her warmth and reinforcement than lash out in the anger that lulled him so.*" }, { "author": ".rieka", "message": "❝ ⌜Who said you can't wear a flower crown and still be a fearsome thing.⎯ ✶⌝ ❞\n \nTitle. [Ave Maria](\nSetting. Hades' Bedchambers \nCharacters. ⁠ , \nPings/Mentions. \nNotes: \n \n⋆.˚ ☪︎ ִ ࣪ .𖥔˚.\n \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n_ _" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "Persephone's emerald gaze looked up at Hades, taking note of every twitch. Every quiver within those perfect lips that had stolen her very soul and placed her upon his throne. Her finger dancing along it now, a knowing look of calm overtaking her despite the bloodied and bruised mess that was her face. Freckles danced along an array of purples and blues and the taste of metal stained her mouth still. But she could not focus on that any longer, not when she could see the torment in his eyes. The guilt that gnawed internally at the man that held the weight of the Underworld upon his shoulders. Despite her body aching in every movement, she found an ache that ran deeper at this sight. At the sight of the man she adored beyond words holding himself responsible for the attack that took place. Holding himself responsible for the way she crumbled against the unforgiving floor. \n\n\"Hades, my love.\" \n\nThere was a plea in her voice. A firm statement in his attempt to descend into rage and vengeance and guilt. \"My darling darkness, you could not have predicted this, could not have predicted any humans would have been so stupid as to- and I am fine. Or I will be. With every moment my divinity comes back.\" A vine curled up his wrist as if in response to this, and claimed bloom upon his ring finger. \"See. I am stronger every second in your presence, my love.\"\n_ _\n\nWincing slightly, careful to hide it from her beloved, she allowed him to lift her. Her breathing still shallow and labored as she rested her hair of fire against the stark contrast of his vest. Life and death, they had always been the balance the Underworld and realms itself required, but what would the world face now that they threatened Hades own balance? What would he make of the threat against his Queen? Leaning into his touch, she felt a cool relief radiate from him. With every delicate brush of his fingers, the hair on her skin rose. Soon the dress, tattered and torn, was no longer and a silken robe of peach adorned her battered state. \n\n*\"I am going to run a bath for you...\"*\n\nHer hand reached out and grasped his own. Hesitation in her voice as it squeaked in slight fear of the rage she knew him to be holding back in this moment of solitude. \"What will you do, Hades?\" Persephone laced her fingers within his own and squeezed slightly with what little strength she had left. \"There are innocents amongst them. My love. My heart. Do not let the rage consume you. I beg of you.\" \n_ _" } ]

[ { "author": "papadrah", "message": "What constituted a dream? If it felt real, was it not reality? Who was to say there was any difference between the two? These were existential questions that the waking world both loved and loathed. This double-edged sword could give you caress with an unrequited love or bring you to a sweaty, emotional tremble in the dark. There was no defense against it. All that drew breath passed through his domain, subconsciously praying this existential boogyman did not notice their presence. When the mind was at its most vulnerable and needed its rest, that was when the Dream Lord would strike. \n\nThis was a less Amara, daughter of Eros, and Champion of the Fear would find out this very evening. She *Thought* She knew fear, but it turned out she was only passing familiar with what a nightmare truly was. \n\n\"Amara, you're on in thirty seconds. Cameras going live in five, four, three..\" The count went silent, and after a few seconds, a crowd erupted with thunderous applause beyond a red curtain. She would find she could not move. She was but a passenger on a theme park behind what she knew to be *Her* Eyes. Unbidden, her gaze dropped to observe her attire. From what she could tell, it was thin in material that hugged her heavenly form as if it was designed specifically to drape across her. This highlighted her femininity and drew eyes that were caught in the sparkly cloth that shimmered in the stray beams of light. It was elegant, and as she shifted nervously, the clack of her heel upon a solid surface indicated the difference in height. \n\nNone of this felt like a dream. Fingers pulled by an unknown puppeteer caressed the crimson curtain before her. There was no indication that she could jerk awake. The thought never crossed her mind. It was more so how she had got and what this was all about. What she heard next did not help this in the slightest. \n\n\"I'd like you all to join me in welcoming my next guest.\" That voice could be so soothing in an intimate setting. If whispered into the right ear, one could imagine the chills it would send down another's spine. Only now was it projected with force and cast to play to a crowd with the confidence of a seasoned showman. \"You might know her from sowing chaos and discourse through the mortal realm. You don't want to catch her on a bad day, folks. May I introduce Amara!\"\n\nThe curtain pulled back, and a hand she would never know the identity of pushed at the center of her back, sending her traitorous legs into motion. All movement was unbidden. Her face turned and waved to a crowd of shadows that did not move. They should have been clapping and cheering, but these featureless faces sat motionless in the crowd. They had no eyes, but she could feel the weight of their gaze on her as oppressive as a bolder upon her chest. A smile and wave played to the shadow patrons before she felt a hand upon her arm. \n\nWhen she turned, a handsome figure loomed over her. Dark eyes with a smile that did not reach the distance to give them life. A head of dark curls that looked both perfectly styled and as if he'd just gotten out of bed, all in the same thought. She may not have known the dream god by a glance, but his was the only face she had to draw upon. This figure leaned close, kissing her on the cheek before he motioned to the couch. Only when her legs carried her across and she sat on the couch would she find she had autonomy. Her head could turn, her fingers could grasp, and she could say what she willed. She would find, however, that she could not rise. One leg delicately crossed over the other and would not betray the one who commanded her. \n\nThis host smoothed his hand down along the front of his suit as he shifted back into his chair behind the desk that separated their conversation. Off to his left, she would spy a brightly colored sign that might have given her a bone-chilling conclusion as to where she was. It read**\"Late Night Talking with Morpheus\"** Set in front of a neon moon. A blatant tell that she was in the viper's nest and she would not be allowed out unless the god across from her felt like he was done with her. \n\n\"Welcome, welcome.\" He said, tapping his note cards on the desk to give him that personification of being an actual Late Night Host in the same vein as a Conan O'Brien or Craig Fergusson. \"It's good to have you on finally. I hear you've been very busy making a mess of things with the mortals.\" As if on cue, the motionless shadow audience gave a raucous bit of laughter. They were given there time before the host sighed, shook his head, and looked upon her. \"Now, why would you go and break little mortals *Like that?*\"" }, { "author": "Amara ", "message": "▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n\n*\"Amara, you're on in thirty seconds.\"*\n\n\"The fuck? I'm on where? Where am I?\" Words she had thought to have spoken, but her lips did not move. Her fingers twitched, and fear struck a chord within as she realized she was immobile. What sorcery was this? She could sense magic within the air, it filled her nostrils and made her sick to her stomach as she had no ability to fight against it. \n\nThe sound of a crowd filled her ears and Amara felt her throat tighten. Tonight, the daughter of Eros and Champion of fear would unravel what it felt like to be in the passenger seat to the very chaos she caused. As the countdown echoed within her ear, the bright gaze that contrasted her darkness glanced down. Her attire adorned her like a sheer sheet of silk, rippling across an ethereal body that she otherwise flaunted proudly in front of her victims, manipulating them closer with the promise of silken touches to what lay beneath. Yet here she felt naked, a vulnerability that made her throat tighten under the vice grip within her own head. Wishing to cover herself and sink within the shadows. To disappear from the awaiting faces beyond that stage. \n_ _\n\nWhatever this was felt entirely too real, no facade of an illusion as the curtains parted and Amara's legs betrayed her. Slide of skin against the elegance of her dress, heels clicking with a grace and confidence that was absent entirely. This was not her, this was a power that toyed with her every whim to run. Within she was slamming against the walls of control, outward was a cool facade of deathly charm. Every stare within the audience could be felt, Amara wishing to gasp for breath as her lips refused to move. Her chest rising and falling with an ease that felt a betrayal as she internally screamed and gasped for air. She was drowning, but an edge pulled at her lips in the form of a smile when her gaze graced the handsome patron before her. \n\nThere was a magnetic allure to him, his scent the source of the strong power that held her tight within unseen rope. Dark, mysterious eyes penetrated to the very depths of her soul, holding secrets and ancient knowledge beyond her comprehension. His visage one of perfection, chiseled jawline and lips that curved into a smile that could command her knees to weaken. Yet, despite the alluring charm that captivated a response and drew her near, there was a darkness held beneath the surface that left her inactive mind begging for her to flee. \n_ _\n\nThe man leaning close, Amara's breath hitched, an unexpected moment of closeness that left an imprint that went beyond the realm they were held within. The kiss held an air of possession, as if by the simple act, he marked her as a player in this twisted game. Less than willing, her body moved to the couch to slide in a comfortable position. A guest that moved with seduction as one leg crossed over the other in deliberate fashion, silken fabric sliding to expose more of what lay beneath. \n\nRelease, sweet release, as her head turned to a sign in bright neon. *Late Night Talking with Morpheus.* Her head snapped to the man before her as realization washed over her in a cold sweat. The dark curls that cascaded around her face started to stick just slightly in an uncontrolled response to the alarm bells ringing within her head. Prince of Dreams, Lord of a Realm most had no control over, and here he was staring at her as if she was the newest toy in his shiny collection. Why? What could Amara have possibly done to bring upon the attention of the King of the Underworld's favorite shadow to use. \n_ _\n\n*\"Now, why would you go and break mortals like that?\"*\n\nAmara swallowed as the laughter drowned out any ability to think rationally. \"Come now, Morpheus.\" Her voice had an edge of venom, covered by a purr of seduction. \"Since when do you care about the mortals? I was simply having a bit of fun with them. Surely, you could care less who I choose to use as my *Play thing*?\" Her tone remained suggestive, a hint of cool sarcasm despite the unknowing trepidation that shown within her eyes. \n▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂\n𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:" }, { "author": "papadrah", "message": "There it was. The look in the eyes of a creature when it realized it was prey. It was intoxicating. Something she knew all too well as an alpha predator. Too many times, she had inhaled that scent of fear-filled pheromones. Even in the dream, he could take a big, dramatic inhale and let out a satisfied sort of smile. His tongue trailed his teeth as the sounds of the crowd froze. It was a break in this little play he was putting on, but it all soon came back into focus. \n\n\"Because I might get jealous.\"\n\nThe crowd let out a flirty \"Ohhhhh\" Sound as he smiled and looked to the shadows who could give him nothing in return. The man had such a charming face, and when he ordained to smile, he could be so handsome. This was odd, was it not? To know that you were on the verge of unimaginable torture with a man with a face like that? The absurdity of the moment didn't help in the slightest. \n\n\"Well, I'm glad you ask, Amara. I care *Because* Persephone cares a great deal about what is happening with her precious mortals. She loves them, so, isn't that right, Jimmy!\" He turned and pointed where more of the shadow figures stood or sat behind the instruments of a house band. \"Jimmy\" Said nothing, but both the host and the phantom audience burst into laughter. A burst of music as if from a big band sounded out, yet not a fiber of darkness twitched to make it happen. \n\nThe tone she used, however, had tickled something in him. The thrill of desire. God or not, he could be beguiled by beauty, and the painfully slow tour of the slender lines of her neck and the swell in her torso could not be overlooked. There were ways for her to fight fire with fire, but did she want to tempt the god of dreams when she did not have autonomy? Would he give into the dark desires and *Force* Things upon her? What was capable of was impossible to tell behind eyes so dark?\n\n\"No, no, no. Amara. You see, I know what you are thinking.\" The index card was brought to his brow as if he was trying to divine something from it. \"You are thinking you will tell me what I want to hear and go back to doing what you were doing. Breaking the minds of mortals and giggling about it on the way to your little house of horrors when the reality is this.\" Suddenly, his hand slammed into the desk with a resounding thud, and he stood. The lighting in the room shifted to something ominous and backlit him like some demon from the nine hells. \"You will stop, or every second in my realm will visit ten the damage upon you that you deal to them.\"\n\nIn a blink, the set was back to normal, and everyone, including the host who had just looked so horrifying, was now laughing as if they had just told the funniest joke. \"So, let's talk about it. Let's figure out what sort of horror I'm going to have to visit upon you to make you see reason. Are you a snakes kind of gal? Do you hate big crowds?\" He tsked and shook his head. \"I know what makes your skin crawl, Amara. I want to introduce you to a friend of mine.\"\n\nFrom behind his desk, he lifted a marionette puppet by the wooden pieces that controlled the string-attached toys. It would take seconds for her to realize that the doll looked just like her, down to the outfit she was wearing now. \"Isn't she beautiful? Why, if she wasn't such a little sadist, maybe I'd have asked her on the date.\" He laughed falsely along with the rest of the audience. With a flick of the wrist, the doll kicked, and in response, so too did her body. Then he did so again, nearly dragging her off the couch with the force of it all. \n\n\"This is just foreplay, dear. We have *All night* To get to the good stuff. Tell me, audience, would you love to see her *Dance?*\"" }, { "author": "Amara ", "message": "Supress it. Press the fear so far down that it had no choice but to be smothered within the cold endless abyss of darkness. This is what she attempted to do, desperately, as a cheshire cat grin spread across her face. Leaning forward with all the confidence she could muster, Amara hid her shaking hands between her thighs and answered with the promise of lust and sin within her voice. \"Morpheus, darling, if you wanted to be my play thing, all you had to do was ask.\"\n\n*\"Persephone.\"*\n\nSo it wasn't the King that she had caught the attention of, but the Queen. The pretty lil' thing that had caught the affections of the underworld, and wrapped it around her finger. Innocent eyes, and manipulative words of false niceities. No one was that sweet, and Persephone was certainly far from Amara's taste. A woman that hid behind power and man, the only reason she was to be feared from any god or goddess amongst the realms. A scoff came from her as she leaned backwards at the name. \"So you are Persephone's pet now, *Cute*.\" Sarcasm dripped from her done up lips, and her eyes studied the darkness beyond. \n_ _\n\nWhat was this world? She had heard of Morpheus, heard of his ability to hold those he wished into a never ending nightmare of his imagining. It was awe-inspiring, a tantilizing idea of torture that made the hairs along her arms stand on end. Yet fear prickled in the form of beads against her neck as she realized that was entirely the loop she was now threatened to be trapped within. \n\nAmara's heartbeat echoed a chaotic rhythm within its cage. A shiver crackled down her spine, an unspoken acknowledgement of the perilous game she found herself entangled within. She was within his web now, at his mercy in ways beyond her abilities. Her body was not her own, her mind not her own. Yet, beneath the surface, a spark of defiance flickered in her eyes, a spark of rebellion that challenged the darkness with a tightening of her jaw. \n\nShe was the demigod of fear, chosen to be his champion. What was she, if she folded so easily? Sweat made her legs glisten, her cheeks colored a soft pink and the red paint upon full lips hid the paling of them beneath. She was terrified, she was furious, but she was stubborn all the same. Wishing to show him nothing of the true effect he had upon her, breath hitching in silence as he shown his true intentions.\n_ _\n\n*\"You will stop, or every second in my realm will visit ten the damage upon you that you deal to them.\"*\n\nA smile had started to creep along her face at his mediocre suggestions. Fear was seductive for Amara, such things as snakes and crowds did little but plummet her into a reminder of the scent of fear tickling her nose. The face her victims made as they drowned within the dark waves she washed over them. So quickly did it drop, however, as she watched the puppet come to life. \n\n\"I would think sadism was temptation to you.\" Her voice had lost a hint of its lackluster now. There was a threat, a knife's edge to the cornered wild cat. He had her by the throat. So quickly did he dive into the most intimate depths of her mind. Each word from Morpheus sliced through her resistance, leaving her exposed to the unsettling dance of manipulation she was now in. \n\nThe demigod of fear found herself ensnared in a psychological chess match, the stakes escalating with every move. Her once confident smirk now wavered, the cheshire cat facade chipping away slowly to unveil the raw, unfiltered emotions beneath. Rage. Rage at the lack of control became icy flames in her ocean-blue eyes.\n\n\"Morpheus.\" Her voice was an attempt at a warning, a growl to it that shown she wished for this to stop.\n_ _" }, { "author": "papadrah", "message": "If she thought she could wound his pride with her little jabs, she was wrong. She did not possess the technique nor the knowledge to send haymakers that would even begin to dent his ego in any perceivable way. If he was Persephone's pet, then so be it. A light roll of his wrist asked the rhetorical question without words. *And?* She would need to dig deeper than the tools she had would allow to wake that beast. \n\nMorpheus gazed upon her as if he could cut not only through the cloth but every single atom that was her being. There were no secrets. Nothing she could hide. In the same breath, even in his own realm, she would be able to note the curious way his eyes drank in her exceptional figure. Like all gods, he knew temptation. The pounding pulse that redistributed blood flow. He was simply better at hiding it and suppressing desires than most. Of all the gods, save for perhaps Death himself, he was the least likely to have a child. \n\nFor the most part, the realm around them had gone silent to the point of a pin drop. There was no shuffling or steps of a production crew. Eyeless voids simply directed their attention only on her. Only their back and forth broke the monotony of the void. She spoke of sadism and temptation, and the owner of this realm could only shake his head. \"You know not the god you deal with. You should educate yourself when your eyes are open. You will be seeing me quite often.\"\n\nIt was only natural that as the cage walls closed in around her, she would start biting back. When one could not seduce or bargain, they would threaten. By now, all of these encounters have played out in about the same way. This was why Morpheus liked to jazz up the meetings with scenarios he deemed entertaining. It was part of his plan to forever keep his opponent off balance. For every move she made, he countered. This may have been chess, but he was playing in a dimension she did not have access to. \n\n*Morpheus* The low growl in her voice suddenly shifted something in the dream god. She would blink once, and suddenly the scene shifted. He was standing over her, and the studio was gone. It was just them, the couch, and the blackened void. The hands that had been liberated mere moments before were suddenly yanked out to both sides by shadowy tendrils, crucifying her upon the couch. She could strain, but no part of her would reply. The melancholy man grasped her by the throat, his thumb pressing into the artery in such a way that it would create a lightheaded sensation. None of this felt like a dream. It felt as real as anything she'd ever felt. \n\n\"What..\" He began in a menacing yet patient sort of tone. \"..Do you think you could possibly do to me, half-blood?\" There was violence in his quiet. A threat implied that he could pull and disconnect her pretty little head from her neck. \"You are but an ant under a magnifying glass in the mid-day sun. I will burn the sanity from your bones and leave you a stark, raving mad beggar in an ally. And I *Will* Do it slowly. You do not understand sadism as I do. Not -even- close..\"\n\nLeaning in, he sniffed, and when he adjusted his thumb, it was so his tongue could gently drag over where it had just been pressing. \"You're afraid..\" He began, chuckling as he drew back. \"I can taste it. I can smell it..\" Nodding, the tip of his nose brushed her own. \"This is where the fun starts..\"\n\nIn the darkness, a piano sounded like a chorus of noise. In another blink, she was back in the studio. Morpheus was behind his desk, and she was standing on the couch, her legs launching her into a performance. Words left lips that were not her own. If she could sing or not didn't matter. If she closed her mouth, the sound still echoed as if her lips were forming the world. The music carried on, and she, in turn, danced to his tune.\n\n\"I could have danced all night. I could have danced all night. And still have begged for more. I could have spread my wings and done a thousand things I've never done before.\" In a spin, she could see that the marionette puppet he had conjured before was mimicking her movements. Or was she mimicking it? It was a paradoxical question that did not matter. The crowd made no sound, but she could see Morpheus plain as day, feet kicked up on his desk as if this were a commercial break with a smoldering cigarette hanging out of the corner of his lips. With each tap of his foot, a clap sounded from the crowd despite there being no movement. \n\nPerhaps she thought she knew hell. \n\nMorpheus would redefine what that meant." }, { "author": "Amara ", "message": "\"Quite often? Are those words of threat or promise, Prince of Dreams.\" Amara purred in a mocking tone. Cornered and yet her feet bounced in casual manner and tongue ran over teeth. Eyes everywhere could be felt upon her, but her steel gaze could feel the weight of only his. Focused entirely on his and the way it flickered between desire and sadistic nature. He could claim retribution in the name of his Queen all he wanted, but Amara could not help but wonder the true beast that roamed beneath. If he wasn't so far off from his victim before him.\n\nIn answer to her piqued interest he was upon her. His breath tickling the small hairs upon her neck and his hands taking every chance of breath away. It was just them now. Just the two of them in his realm and Amara felt infinitely more vulnerable as he explored her closely. Hands brushing places she hadn't dared let people venture close to in what felt like years. \n_ _\n\n\"And what if I am?\" There was a bite in her words. An attempt to hide the quickening of her pulse beneath his tongue, as he brushed nerves that felt far too alive in this dreamscape. Damn him, and damn Persephone for sending her hell hound upon her like a rabid dog who's teeth were baring with glee at her throat. \"Fear is something I constantly dwell within as you wander through dreams. Do not tempt me with a fun time Morpheus. We could play together for *Centuries* Before you have me upon my knees.\"\n\nSarcasm oozed from her silver tongue as her teeth playfully nipped in his direction. She would not give him such easy satisfaction. She refused to be a blubbering mess before him, despite her head swimming with the sight of stars, as her stomach tightened in knots from him looming above her. \n_ _\n\n\"Does Deimos know you are here?\" Her head tilted in curious fashion. An idle threat, silent in action if he knew anything of their relationship. Deimos had used her, played with her, and then discarded her when he grew bored. Morpheus was nothing upon the same levels as the first man who tore her heart from her chest and stomped upon it. A close look showing the hatred of being one's play thing already, as she remained beneath his thumb and at his whim for power alone. \n\nAn answer wouldn't be given yet. Not when she was sent upon his whim to dance for him. Play along in his twisted game with no control. A performance for the infinite darkness and him, his messy hair and smug smile seen from the shadows. Smoke exhaling from his lips and cascading around him in an alluring scene of nightmarish intoxication. \n_ _\n\nOn and on she performed. On and on she danced for him until her chest heaved and sweat beaded from her body in a different sort of glow. The makeup and hair that had been done up now threatened to fall and smudge, and her eyes spoke of nothing but sheer hatred. \"Do you think you are accomplishing anything here?\" She mocked him in her anger, her heartbeat ramming against its cage and her subconscious demanding her mouth to quiet. \n\n\"I could do this all night long.\" In the little control she had, she let a strap fall from her shoulder and changed her gaze to one of sarcastic lust. Her smile twisted in a tease of temptation. \"...Though I think you are wasting time when we could be doing... Far more entertaining things.\" Any closer to her, just close enough, and she would attack. Even in this dreamscape, one slip up and she would sick her teeth within his skin and hope it would allow the momentary lapse for ability to wake from this hellish nightmare.\n_ _" }, { "author": "papadrah", "message": "\"Demios..\" Oh, that wicked devil's smile that appeared on his lips as she said the name, as if she had just said something funny. \"And what would Demios do to me? You one dimensional lots with your narrow spheres.\" Two fingers held up inches in front of his face. \"Fears can be conquered. My realm cannot. It is timeless, and the basis of all things save for air and whatever. What hope could he have against me? Especially given that our mutual lord and lady told me to bring you in line. He will fall in line, too, or he will end up on the same set, dancing for the same crowd while I enjoy myself. \n\nThe hierarchy in the Underworld was strict, and Lord Hades held to it with an iron first. It was how he operated with such impunity. Demios would fall in line just like Morpheus knew he would in some situation in the future. \"I will let him know if you like. I will let him know who's little plaything you are now.\" She would be able to see his tongue trace over his lips as if the taste of her on them was delicious. A flavor he wished to savor and commit to memory. \n\nThe dance continued, the cheering sounded, and still, she spun her words. Never did that amused look upon his features fade. A cool drag of the smoke between his lips allowed him to exhale a fountain of smoke that further shrouded him in mist. Something happened, though, at the fall of her dress. A subtle shift in his brow indicated a look THAT she knew all too well. A nibble on the hook from some unsuspecting fish too hungry to properly check if it was bait. \n\nMorpheus stood quickly and rounded the desk like he was going to charge head-first into her arms to end her punishment at the pause. The dancing stopped, and Morephus was upon her. A hand searching to paw as his lips devoured into hers. A full-on, heated press of tongues, lips, and hands. She bit him, however, hard, and rather than blood, she tasted only parched, dry sand. \n\nThe version of the man that had just lit fire within her melted away into the shape of a stomped stand castle beneath her feet, and Morpehus sat at the desk as if he'd never moved in the first place. \"Interesting..\" He said, moving slowly to stand, and he stamped his cigarette on the desk. \"You -would- give yourself to me begrudgingly if it meant you could be released. A fine place to start, but we can do better.\" With that, he turned and started to walk off stage. One by one, the lights in the studio died away, leaving her in nothing but a spotlight she could not see beyond. The voice of the dream lord called out. \n\n*\"When you give yourself to me, you will be willing, eager, and thankful. Soon, my pet. Very soon.\" \n\nThen she was alone. A woman with no music under a hot, bright light, dancing to tuneless silence until she mercifully woke some hours later, feeling as if she had not rested at all. And every day for a week, it would be the same. She would not see the God of Dreams until she saw him in the corporeal world. It seemed he had discovered something worse than taking away her free will. It was taking her free will and leaving her absolutely alone." } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "A space where gods and souls gather during nightly celestial events. The hall is adorned with celestial motifs, and gatherings are held to honor the quiet beauty of the night sky." }, { "author": ".+@ H S C A T S +@", "message": "╭─── ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ─────────.𓂀..─╮\n\n——\n\n*Hecate sat in her mother's quarters awaiting for her to arrive for a more serious conversation. As much as she didn't want the issue to irk her and keep it plaguing her mind, she couldn't help, but to deal with it. Such treatment couldn't go ignored for so long, she may have been a god, but she has a heart. Many of the gods don't possess that anymore, but Hecate does. Many would think that her connection to the mortals has made her grow soft, but it is quite the opposite. The mortals teach her something new everyday and emotionally they have influenced her. This was the moment of truth, but little did she know that this would __truly__ be the moment of truth.*" }, { "author": "cuntinuity.", "message": "Nyx stood regally in the dimly lit hall of her domain, her ethereal presence casting a subtle glow amidst the shadows. As Hecate approached, Nyx's smile illuminated her features, the soft curves of her lips reflecting the warmth she felt for her daughter. With arms open wide, Nyx enveloped Hecate in a tender embrace, relishing the rare moment of familial connection.\n\n\"I'm so glad to see you,\" Nyx murmured, her voice a melodic echo in the stillness of the underworld. Her gaze, deep as the night sky, met Hecate's with a mixture of curiosity and affection. \"What brings you here?\"\n\nThough Nyx possessed a mother's intuition, she couldn't discern the purpose behind Hecate's visit. Yet, regardless of the reason, Nyx welcomed her daughter with open arms, ready to offer solace and support in whatever capacity she required. With a gentle hand, she brushed a stray lock of hair from Hecate's face, her touch conveying a silent reassurance amidst the uncertainty of the moment.\n\nAs Nyx held Hecate in her embrace, she couldn't help but notice the subtle tension in her daughter's expression, the furrow of her brow and the faint hint of worry in her eyes. Sensing the weight of unspoken thoughts lingering between them, Nyx gently withdrew from the embrace, her hands lingering on Hecate's shoulders as she peered into her daughter's troubled gaze. \"What's wrong, my love?\" Nyx inquired softly, her voice a soothing melody in the somber atmosphere of the underworld. She offered Hecate a comforting smile, ready to lend a listening ear and a guiding hand through whatever turmoil weighed upon her daughter's heart." }, { "author": ".+@ H S C A T S +@", "message": "───── ❝ 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 ❞ ─────\n*Title: The Crack in the Shadows.\nSettings: Nyx Nocturnal Hall | The Underworld.\nCharacters: Erebus, Nyx, Hecate.\nNotes: We back at it!! LET THE TRUTH REVEAL ITSELF.*\n•◦ೋ•◦❥•◦ೋ•◦ೋ•◦❥•◦ೋ•┈┄┄┅┉┉╯\nSilence. It wasn't foe nor acquaintance to the goddess, but this time it was different. The silence was deafening . . . Cold. The air was thick with tension, but Hecate's throat was thicker. A sudden dryness developed in the catacombs of her throat. It was comparable to being desiccated in the middle of the Sahara Desert. It was as if somebody had her in a chokehold, she could sense that something was wrong with her mother. Such a feeling casted a heavy weight upon her body like an iron dumbbell. Hecate hadn't known her mother to be dumbstruck, she was unable to see her mother's eyes filled with the umbra of the eclipse.\n\nThe departed eye contact, overbearing silence, and sudden coldness in the atmosphere only helped her to reach a repudiated conclusion. Such thoughts manifested goosebumps along her skin, followed by shivers that tickled her body and soul. It posed the question: Is she hiding something and if so, what?\n\nHecate's hair that was once the sight of a flame, dulled by the looming shadow of her mother's palace laid docile upon her chest. The daughter tuned into her mother's coos to her. Her mother's voice was synonymous to the moon, it was serene and it touched the soul lovingly as if every word decorated a constellation. Her voice made her believe that there was no lie to be involved, just the truth. The embrace of Nyx's hand clutching her own only sold it more. Her family and the concept of the idea was one of the biggest struggles in her life. There have been many stories and tales of her origin that even she questions her origin. There's always been a mystery and animosity of her lore, one of the biggest pieces of mystery being family.\n\n—-•◦ೋ•◦❥•◦\n\nFor a moment, time froze and she couldn't believe that her mother would lie. Hecate was usually not a pawn to her mother's words, but something about this felt different. The Witch thought it be best to apologize for such scrutiny until the link was untethered by a familiar shadow. Erebus had arrived and that glare of his was prominent, Hecate had been on the receiving end of that stare multiple times. Not purposely, but still. At that moment, she wanted to be on his side, but she had a sneaky feeling it wouldn't become that. Seeing those unyielding brimstone eyes caused Hecate to allow her mind instead of her heart to guide her. Fruitful thoughts flowed as she remembered what her mother said to her.\n\nHecate looked down at their hands and she pulled her hand away from her mother. The goddess took two steps back before surveying her mother. \"I am aware of those complexities and dangers that you speak of in this world. In fact, I am more aware of the world than half of the gods and goddesses that sit high on their o' so mighty thrones.\" Hecate's eyes shift to Erebus for a sliver of a second before returning to Nyx. \"And I'm not just talking about our world, the entire planet. Our reality is changing and this facade that you speak of . . . Has grown weak and the way to prepare is to be transparent.\" A flood of memories pooled into Hecate's mind of the encounters that she has had with both god and mortal. At some point, the two became synonymous with their greed or need. \"The truth always comes to light . . . So show me that light just thisonce* Before I am consumed by your unwavering darkness to keep me safe.\" Hecate's voice carried such a stern, but benevolent tone as she spoke. One would refer to it as the Calm Before the Storm. She didn't remove her moonlike contact from Nyx. She looked to hear her judgement and authenticity as if similarly to her witches." }, { "author": "NYX GODDESS OF NIGHT", "message": "Nyx shivered as she felt Erebus's presence behind her, his rage a palpable cold pressing against her skin, his eyes glaring with their orange hue. She glanced from him to her daughter, Hecate, who pulled her hands away, causing a sharp pain in Nyx's heart. How could she explain the truth? How could she share it when it caused so much pain, and would only cause more?\n\nShe looked at the two, her mind racing. Could she reveal the darkest secret of her life? Did she even want to? It seemed she had no choice. Pulling away from them, Nyx moved gracefully, the night air swirling around her, her eyes fixed on the shimmering sky above.\n\n\"There was a time,\" Nyx began, her voice soft but steady, \"When I was so alone that Grief was my only companion, joined with the ambrosia that washed it away. I was alone for centuries, while Erebus was consumed by our duties.\" She cut a look to Erebus, ensuring he knew she spoke of him.\n\nNyx continued, her voice trembling slightly with the weight of her confession. \"Centuries passed in darkness, and for once, I had no companion. So I drank, the ambrosia numbing my thoughts, dulling the ache of loneliness. And then, one night, Erebus appeared. I didn't question it—I wanted so desperately to believe it was him after centuries apart.\"\n\n\"He didn't speak, not a word,\" Nyx recalled, her voice wavering. \"And I didn't notice, lost in my own haze, the way his eyes shimmered bright blue like lightning. It was only after... After I felt myself filled with a life that I realized. That's when I knew Zeus had tricked me, appearing in the form of my husband.\"\n\nTears welled in Nyx's eyes as she spoke, the pain of betrayal still fresh after all this time. \"I was deceived, and from that deception, you, Hecate, were born. A constant reminder of the darkest moment of my existence, yet also a beacon of light in this eternal night.\"\n\n\"I begged Zeus to keep our secret, to tell no one of his deceit,\" Nyx whispered, her voice thick with emotion. \"But I was trapped,\n\nUnable to avenge myself without the risk of my secret spilling out, exposing us all to the wrath of Olympus. I feared for you, Hecate, knowing that revealing the truth could bring you unimaginable pain.\"\n\nHer gaze shifted to Erebus, her beloved, her partner in darkness. \"And Erebus,\" She said softly, \"I feared you could never see me the same, knowing the truth of how I was deceived. But I couldn't bear to lose you, to lose either of you.\" Nyx's voice cracked, the weight of her burden heavy upon her shoulders as she looked at the two beings she loved most in this world." }, { "author": "Erebus", "message": "His eyes shimmered and locked onto Nyx, unmoving as she explained the origins of Hecate. Once the story hit his ears, it all began to make sense. The familiar yet uneasy stench that Hecate carried within her blood, the mixture of Nyx's as well as something else. It *Was* Olympian he smelt, but not just that... It was that pathetic degenerate's blood, Zeus. The eyes locking onto Nyx burnt a deeper shade of orange, one not even Lady Night had seen before.\n\nHis eyes never swayed. He didn't look upon his 'daughter', not once. Could he even call her that? She called him 'Father' but was that out of how she viewed him, or what Nyx's wanted to hear? Either way, he wasn't really her Parent. Far from it. His mind was only on Zeus, the things he wanted to do to that rotten excuse for a deity. Maybe Erebus should personally awaken Chaos, ask his Master to tear the skin from the King, splay his form across the stars and make his soul stretch and tear from every seam. Then, and only then would he be satisfied.\n\n\"I should kill him.\"\n\nThey were the only words he could manage. Quickly pivoting away, he finally shot a glare towards Hecate. Did he hate her? Despise her for being half Olympian? No. But how could he look upon the God without seeing *Him* In her eyes? She was his Zeus' child, not Erebus'. Without a second wasted, Erebus turned away and began to walk off, feeling any second left there would only add to his growing anger." } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "A serene glade where souls find respite and peaceful rest. Those who have endured significant trials in the mortal realm are granted a tranquil place to recover before continuing their journey through the Underworld." }, { "author": "vodrux", "message": "***On a certain day, in an uncertain time and place, relative to mortal measurements, a shadow entered the realm of Hypnos. It came in the dead of the night when the darkness was deepest and the powers of the Underworld waxed. It had no form to touch, no shape for the eyes to behold, and yet, Hypnos would be quite aware of its presence as it slowly yet firmly cajoled its way past the guardians and barriers that shielded entry into this holy place of the Lord of Sleep. It moved with sweet whispers and implied threats, bringing with it honey and poison in equal measure. Like a jealous lover's touch, it moved forth into Hypnos' mind as tendrils of thought, greedily and unrelentingly demanding entry. But Hypnos was master of this realm, and without his leave none would manifest within it. And so, the thought creature left a request for entry. A drop of darkness, wrapped in nightmares that would unravel within the receiver's mind and implant the idea within. Hypnos would know that Deimos, Lord of Fear, King of Terror and Master of Dread wished to speak with, and his call was alluring and terrifying in equal measures.***" }, { "author": "HYPNOS. | God of Sleep", "message": "Hypnos rested on the hills of his realm, the poppies peaceful around his body as he slept. Though that slumber was quickly snuffed as he felt the presence of another, the god could feel the shaking fear. Deimos, the son of Ares and Aphrodite. He knew the man would come to his home one day. As sleep always held a form of fear within it, where some welcome the shut of sleep, some people fear closing their eyes would be their last. \n\nHypnos let out a soft yawn, his mouth wide, as he allowed the fear to enter. Brushing away the fear the god brought to his thoughts, Hypnos was used to fear, seeing it as he walked alongside his twin when he was younger. For sleep follows death. \n\n\"Deimos\" He says as he opened a path for the god to walk safely, as the poppies were powerful, that even gods, demigods and mortal slumber in these hills. \n\nThe sleeping god didn't stand to greet the other god as he wandered into one of his domains. The god pure white against the sea of red flowers around him, his arm behind his head as he remains in his toga, something he has worn for years. The fabric wrapped around his waist and over his shoulder, a soft poppy crown on his head. \n\nHis blue eyes, void of pupils, and had a cloudy gaze in them stared up waiting for the fear god to make himself known. To see him, \"What do I owe the pleasure?\"" }, { "author": "vodrux", "message": "***The command was given and the poppy fields parted, allowing Deimos entrance into the realm of the God of Sleep. He caught the scent of the poppies wafting towards him as he moved across them. A heady, intoxicating fragrance that weighed down the body, the mind and the soul. Had it not been for the God's permissiveness, Deimos had no doubts that even a God would succumb to them here, where Hypnos' power was strongest. As he weaved his way through the many layers of the realm, towards the centre where its divine anchor lay, looking up into the swirling skies. As the King of Fear approached, the formless entity began to manifest tangibly. A small blob of viscous, black, ectoplasm began to appear on the ground, and it steadily began to grow in size. The environs around Hypnos was soon filled with the sounds of bubbling and rippling liquid, as the mound of black substance finished its manifestation and began to move of its own accord.***\n\n***On this day, the ever-changing god of terror had seen fit to show himself as a sentient, sapient and mobile mound of coalesced ectoplasm. Upon closer look at its body, one would be able to see a myriad of miniscule faces spontaneously appearing and disappearing, their features contorted and frozen in various expressions of terror, shock and utter despair. There seemed to be no eyes, ears or mouth on the blob, and yet Hypnos would be distinctly aware that he was being watched. The blob began to stretch and smear across the ground, flowing in all directions as its first few tendrils moving towards the god, and simultaneously, Hypnos heard a voice speak inside his head.*** A sleepy hollow. Very fitting, for the God of repose and respite. ***The voice spoke, in a low, gravelly tone that seemed reminiscent of nails being drawn across the chalkboard, mingled with sweet and serene music.*** I have need of you, and I believe it is well within your power to grant me what I desire. ***The thought-voice chuckled.*** All that remains, is to know your price." }, { "author": "HYPNOS. | God of Sleep", "message": "Hypnos moved just slightly so he was laying on his side as the god moved towards him, there seemed to be a slight glow to the god. The aura of slumber echoes around him as well, stronger than ever since he is in his domain. Hypnos chuckled gently, as he watched the god, his pupiless eyes gazed at him, when he finally took the form of a monstrous creature, so small that could fit in the palm of his hand then slowly grow. Any other man or even god would find him disgusting, but the god only found amusement and curiosity at the creature as it grew and changed. \n\n*\"You need something of me, God of Fear\"* His voice soft uninterested, he hums, looking away to stare at a simple poppy close to his head not paying much attention to the god, after he spoke. The sleeping god wanted to help, but he didn't want a repeat of Hera, he had always been a soft god when it came to aiding others. He reached out and rubbed his fingers against the red petals. He wasn't gonna be played a fool, not this time... Or maybe he will, he's always been good at playing dumb. \n\n*\"Tell me, Deimo, God Of Fear...\"* He slowly started, his eyes turning back to the god in front of him, his many faces of fear and despair, appearing as quickly as they disappeared. There was something terrifying about the god of fear, he was always curious if such a creature could come from Ares and Aphrodite... But many could say the same about Hypnos not realizing how interwin with death he is, maybe in the way fear is interwin with war and love. Love is terrifying, as is war. \n\nHe knew this train of thought he was going down was fatel, there was a danger to playing with fire that burned this bright, but curiosity and the idea of something interesting coming from this encouraged the smaller god to reach out. *\"What is it that you require of me, only then will I be able to ask. Fair trade, if it will cost me my life, monstrous god\"* He touches the cold blob of flesh, it feels weird under his hands, but he smiles so tiredly." }, { "author": "vodrux", "message": "***Deimos had been waiting for Hypnos to touch him. And when he did, the dark god moved immediately. The blob of flesh leapt forward from the point of contact, wrapping itself around Hypnos' hand before beginning to move up across his arm towards the rest of his body. Metre after glistening metre of black flesh coiled around the God of Sleep like an anaconda coils around its prey until at long last, Hypnos was completed covered save for his face. It was at this point that he spoke, all the while tendrils of the grosteque creature moved towards Hypnos' eyes, nostril and mouth, funneling into his ears as it did so.*** Do not worry, my sweet. ***The voice whispered, mingling a moving caress with a threatening undertone.*** I do not seek your life. I only seek you. Your power. Your control over sleep. ***The black casing now coating Hypnos maneuvered his body such that he was forced down onto all fours, as it writhed, swarmed and coiled around him.*** I want to taste you and your core. I want to know you, as intimately as a divine may know another. I want to delve deep inside you and take a part of you with me, even as I leave a part of me in you. Grant me this wish, fair Hypnos, my darling, and I will show you wonders beyond your imagination. ***The tendrils moving across his face interlinked to form a uniform sheet that closed in evenly, inching ever closer to completely covering his visage.*** Submit to me, and let me have you, and I will give you sensations and experiences you never knew existed. There is great beauty, in submission, in despair, in pure, unbridled terror. Tonight, from our union, will we create nightmares that put those of Morpheus to shame." }, { "author": "HYPNOS. | God of Sleep", "message": "Hypnos realized he played the game too dangerously, his boredom had consequences he wasn't prepared for. His brother warned him of this young god that follows in his wake, of the fear he brings the mind he held but he didn't hold that warning close, what a fool Hypnos was as he felt his body slowly become enclosed by the god. Hypnos fear echoed out, Hypnos didn't play his fear on his face but he knew the god of fear could feel it deep inside him. \n\nHis hands, arms, and legs slowly covered in the cold, the god couldn't help but let out a shiver and quiver under his grasp. Hypnos didn't understand what the gods' plan was. What piece of him did he want, what piece would he leave inside him. Hypnos slowly felt the cold creep higher as slowly the light turned dark. The creeping feeling of being alone but not at all. The sleeping god could fight back, easily for even the god of Fear sleeps. Zeus was a god he slumbered someone like Fear was nothing but he couldn't bring himself to do it. \n\nThe hesitation, Hypnos submitting to such a god... Taint him with fear and despair. He had no idea what this god wanted for his son, but curiosity was a curse the sleeping god held. He let his mind answer for him, he knew the other god would hear his words as he thought. \n\n*\"If I submit what would you gain from this, a toy to play with for a moment... What is your endgame, little fear god... And why did you bring up my son\"* His tone held playfulness but also held a threat of his own, *\"I'm not a fool, I learn, I listen... If you answer me that I'll submit to you my body will be yours for as long as you want.\"*\n\nHypnos was a fool, he thought to himself, but a fool who wished to see the end of this game. See what path this will take, what chaos this will bring, will it entertain him." }, { "author": "vodrux", "message": "***As the black surface closed in upon Hypnos' face, it seemed to slow down, inching forward at a glacial pace now while they spoke. The God of Sleep's words caused the gravelly voice to laugh inside his head. Deimos was perfectly aware that Hypnos could fight back if he wished to, and even banish him from this realm, where his power was greatest. He was also aware that the god would not do so. Fear. It was a tool that trapped beings inside their own minds and souls, and used their own strength as a weapon against themselves. It tapped at their innermost insecurities and weaknesses to weave an illusion of helpless despair over which the victim had no control. It possessed the mind completely until the victim clung to the one holding them hostage, voluntarily submitting without requiring any correction, and he would work this god in the same method.*** It is Morpheus, who has given offense and must make amends. ***The King of Terror said, his voice caressing the edges of Hypnos' psyche.*** He took something of mine. A demigod, who has given me her soul (" }, { "author": "HYPNOS. | God of Sleep", "message": "When the god mentioned his son a second time confirming his involvement it made the sleeping god freeze. That was his child, his son, someone he watched grow into the man he is today at a distance, out of respect to his son's request. Yet this god wished for him to toe that line, a line he has placed to keep him safe. Hypnos lets out a gentle hum that echoes his mind. \n\nHe felt the grip around his body tighten, making Hypnos let out a soft groan, as he spoke of another. He sighed, 'love or toy' he didn't know but it seemed his son took something that wasn't his, which amused the sleeping god. This will be more interesting and entertaining than he originally thought. A soft chuckle echoed in both of their heads. \n\n*\"Oh silly god of fear, I don't want your toys. I only want entertainment. I'll give you what you want as long as you entertain me, but only for 3 days and be warned if any god comes to me and asks me to stop, I will. If a Demigod asks then I have a task for them\"*\n\nLord of Sleep laughed at the man who trapped him, the fear still etched into his skin as it crawled and covered him, the god may not be able to see, but he could see through this. It will be fun, he wonders if his son will be the one to ask him to stop, maybe a brave demigod adventures down to the underworld... Or maybe he should go up to the mortal realm and make it easier. \n\n*\"Your desire could end much quicker than you think, if the gods and mortals realize quickly\"* He says, his voice was gentle and tired, *\"But I'll be entertained and will slumber afterwards. You won't be able to reach me, so you beat find another plan if this one fails\"*" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "Hades' imposing palace made of obsidian and shadowy hues. Its towering spires reach into the abyss, and its darkened halls serve as the seat of power to the god of the Underworld. The Citadel overlooks the River Styx, acting as a sentinel over the realm of the dead." }, { "author": "Lyssa", "message": "After all this time, the Fates never ceased to defy the expectations of even the longest lived of the gods. One moment, Lyssa was roaming by her lonesome within the Erebos Abyss, as per usual. She was made aware of the meeting between various gods and their half-blood kin, proposed by the Queen of the Underworld. However, she herself had no interest in attending, instead opting to be summoned only as a needed mediator. \n\nYet, certain instigators would appear to have other plans. Chaos had erupted, and neither Zeus, nor Poseidon, where anywhere to be found. Lyssa was struck with the chord of madness of agonized gods and demigods alike the moment the attack was held, and regretted not being able to act sooner. Another regret, chalked up to the many she had in the past. \n\nNow was not the time for lamentation, however. Now was only the time to act while they still could. The goddess rushed through the halls of the ancient Citadel, sensing the faint presence of the one she sought after close by. \n\n\"Persephone!\"\n\nA hoarse voice cried out, booming echoes against the draped, obsidian walls. \n\n\"QUEEN PERSEPHONE! WHERE ARE YOU!?\"" }, { "author": " Persephonequeen of the underworld. '", "message": "*\"Persephone!\"*\n\nPersephone's eyes opened to the dark fabric she had known all too well, her fingertips curling within the sheets and stirring with sounds of content nature, until- A sharp pain made her freeze entirely. A cough brought blood forth from her lungs and it all came rushing back with the force of Poseidon's seas. \"Hades.\" She whispered into the darkness for her love, but she could feel it. His power was a suffocating force amongst the Underworld, an answer. He knew. He knew and he would cast a vengeance upon all those who dared test his unending love for his flower. \n\n*\"Queen Persephone! Where are you?\"* \n_ _\n\nSlowly, painfully, Persephone rose from the bed and made her way to the doors that stood open. A pale and broken frame against the shadows that danced and whirled on their way to wherever Hades directed them. \"Lyssa, darling, why all the shouting.\" A sweetened attempt at a joke but her frame soon crumbled into a hacking mess. Droplets of blood scattering along the floor. \n\n\"'Tis but a scratch...\" Her fingertips had already begun returning to the Immortal that she had once been. Her hand glowing while her arm stood in contrast as she raised it. \"See? No harm done, no need to worry for your Queen.\" Yet fear ran rampant within Persephone's thoughts. To have her immortality taken away so easily. What was that? \n_ _" } ]

[ { "author": ".rieka", "message": "A desolate and foreboding prison located deep within the Underworld. Here, the most wicked souls and rebellious titans are bound in chains and subjected to eternal torment. The air is thick with despair, and the cavernous chambers echo with the anguished cries of the condemned." }, { "author": "goOgotesha", "message": "♪♪♪ \"Saaaaandy, baaaaaby. I'm in miseryyy.\" ♪♪♪ \n\nThe voice, purposely higher pitched than normal and cracking at all of the difficult notes, bobbed through the darkness like hobbits in a barrel. The lyrics appeared on air surrounded by distorted music notes, each one rippling through the dungeon before fading away as quick as the words were sung. Still out of sight, the source of the strange display continued to sing loud and clear for all to hear. \n\n♪♪♪ \"We made a start, now we're apart. There's nothing left for me.\" ♪♪♪\n\nA swift moving silhouette followed after the disappearing lyrics, microphone in hand as he dramatically gyrated his hips in front of the cell of his favorite prisoner. A spotlight suddenly turned on from above, shining down on Momus who was dressed in blue jeans, a tight plain white shirt and leather jacket. A perfect cosplay of Danny Zuko - greasy hair and all. \n\n♪♪♪ \"LOVE HAS FLOWN ALLLLLL ALONE! I sit . . . And wonder why-y-y-oh why. You left me. Oooh Sandy.\" ♪♪♪\n\nHe paused for dramatic effect, frozen in place and staring at Cronus inside of the cage, waiting for the grand applause he expected from his audience - willing or not. When it didn't come, the whole scene changed. The spotlight began flashing red and blue, the microphone was dropped, and Momus's outfit changed from greaser to police uniform as he jammed his body against the bars of Cronus's cell and gripped them tight in both hands. \n\n\"Excuse me, sir, but you are under arrest for not having a sense of humor.\" He pulled an air horn out of his pocket and blew it twice in quick succession right into the cell. \"Why the long face, buddy? I was gonna let you out to stretch your legs.\" He tilted his head to the side curiously. \"Was it my song? I should finish it, shouldn't I?\" \n\nThe spotlight went white again and he stepped back into it, resuming where he left off. \n\n♪♪♪ \"Someday, when high school is done . . . Somehow, someway, our two worlds will be one . . .\" ♪♪♪" }, { "author": "Cronus", "message": "Cronus was sick and tired. Eyes closed, head raised to the cold roof of his barely liveable cell; he had near enough given up. But he had persevered; through the absolutely devastating mix of horrific tunes and the wisecracks, the insults, the sarcasm, the pranks and of course the silly outfits. He had pushed through everything; not through a desire for something in the future but out of pure unrefined hated, spite of those children who had defied him and continued to defy him. He was King of All, the rightful ruler of this cesspit. They had stripped him of rank, of respect, of legend and even of his people. The titans were no longer seen as masters of the world; slayers of the primordials but instead as some pitiful servants of the man who had ate his children in his own paranoia.\n\nHis cell was liveable. Liveable was a strong word. Beyond the jet black steel bars and the cold exterior of Tartarus; a realm formed from the dead remains of a long gone primordial. It had a mahogany table with a slight tilt, a red cushioned rocking chair which he now found himself upon and a bookshelf of severely out of date novels. Truly hell to his titanic desire for order. It was chaotic, just as chaotic as the buffoon god that now serenaded him.\n\nThe Harvest's eyes opened in a glare as cold as ice as he stared back at Momus as he paused for effect. The pause was too long, it upset Cronus greatly that Momus couldn't even keep a proper beat. The applause didn't come, it never did.\n\nThe outfit change. The lighting. The whole fucking spectacle. It didn't amuse Cronus, it tortured him with disappointment. This was what the world had come to. Fucking Momus.\n\nAs Momus seemed to begin anew with his doomed song; Cronus finally reacted, a pristinely perfect hand lifted a moderate distance into the air. Measured with titanic precision. **\"Imp. Perhaps there is a different way you could torture me this time? I tire of your song and dance. These past hundred years have been...\"**\n.\n\nCronus' nose screwed up in a look of pure disgust as he finished with a grumbling, **\"Grating\"**. **\"Your material has gotten dry. Hast the well to your creativity truly withered away?\"** It was Cronus' own attempt at torture, his rightful retribution that he had brought upon his torturer, his *Hated* Torturer. **\"At least Hades permits the god of sleep to come play his games with me; you just seem to practice this... Pointless stand-up routine\"** Cronus continued to grumble his hand fiddling absentmindedly with a lone drachmae.\n\n**\"If only Hades knew of your actions, he would positively throw you in here with me for how** ***Pointless*** **Your methods are\"** His rant continued to spill out, Cronus emphasising the word pointless to try to bring understanding to Momus on how little he truly saw the god before him; not even to Zeus would Cronus despise someone as such but he had to remain careful. Phrasing his words more like actual criticism than as the insults they were; he would need that deniability to protect his continued existence if Momus was to ever run to Hades with desires for revenge." }, { "author": "goOgotesha", "message": "The performance went from a reenactment of the movie to a vague interpretation which continued to devolve until it was nothing but a song and dance that Momus was making up as he went. He shook his ass as he turned around and stopped with his back to the cell just to make sure Cronus received the best view of the *Cake* He was packing in those skinny jeans. There wasn't much, but he made sure to grow his cheeks and bubble them up to perfection. \n\nAll of Cronus's complaints and criticisms went unnoticed - or ignored, no one could really tell - until the old man called his act *Pointless.* That made Momus pause, his backside still facing the cage. He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but it didn't stop until it was at a full one-eighty degree angle. \n\nHis eyes met Cronus's, but he did a quick glance down at his own ass before looking up again. \"Not hungry for cake?\" He asked, jutting out his bottom lip to make a pouty face. \"It's been centuries for you! Does it *Really* Matter whose cake it is?\" \n\nA dark grin spread across his lips as he approached the bars and pressed his face between two of them. \"If you don't like my singing, I can always tell you jokes.\" The tone of his voice made it sound more like a threat than a fun alternative. While he spoke, his hands reached up and back to grip the cell bars in each hand, further adding to the unnatural look of his body with his head on backwards.\n\n\"OR! . . . *Or* We can try poetry.\" He gasped as if the idea was the best in the world. \"That's *Exactly* What you need.\" He pulled away from the bars and pressed his head between both hands to turn it back around. He took a moment to adjust it, the sound of a loud pop and a resounding *Aaaah* Afterward signifying that everything was back to normal. \n\nOr as normal as it could be in that situation. \n\nTurning his whole body around, Momus was suddenly dressed in old Shakespearean garb, a skull in his hand that he held up high. \n\n\"There was once a god named Cronus\nWho was kept locked up by Momus. \nHe had to go pee\nBut couldn't get free\nSo he begged and begged for a Jonas . . . Brother. Hm. No that didn't work.\" \n\nTapping his chin thoughtfully, Momus tried to think of a better ending, seeming to completely forget that Cronus was there." } ]

[ { "author": "._lennox_", "message": "A desolate and foreboding prison located deep within the Underworld. Here, the most wicked souls and rebellious titans are bound in chains and subjected to eternal torment. The air is thick with despair, and the cavernous chambers echo with the anguished cries of the condemned." }, { "author": " Eris ", "message": "Footsteps echoed off the obsidian-crested floors, the soft clack of heels a stark indication of a discarded goddess as she returned to the dark chambers of what was once home. She had no real reason for her return. A deep resounding want to create chaos with someone she knew could best match her love of discord creation. \n\nThe interior of the underworld was so different than the mortal world. No longer a need for sunglasses in the domain of darkness, yet they still sat on top of her head. While she had grown accustomed to the brightness even in the darkness of night time she felt some sliver of homesickness for the world in which she both did and no longer belonged. \n\nEris turned the corner of the hallway leading to the caverns that held the true monsters of the underworld, knowing that her brother would reside within the confines of the Titans' holding chambers. Her brother's knack for torturing them with his jokes always left a smile on her face whether she wanted to admit it or not. It was when his jokes turned to her, that she was left with the bitterness that seemed to follow. \n\nShe waved her hand to withdraw the wards from preventing her from entering and stepped across the threshold, the wards quickly returning to their due diligence. The shadow of Momus' sat in the middle of the large room, surrounded by the locked confines. Eris couldn't see into each room, partially because she didn't want to and partially because her permissions had dwindled since her last visit. \n\n\"It is always a sure thing that I can find you here. Have your jokes still not entertained them enough to your liking?\"" }, { "author": "goOgotesha", "message": "*Plink. Plink.*\n\nBroken notes on a guitar echoed in the dungeon as Momus's voice rang out in song. Each lyric was belted loud and proud and over-dramatically as he strummed on the guitar completely wrong, very strong, and for much too long. Momus didn't own a watch, and there was no way to tell the time down in the Underworld where darkness ruled. So on he played, and on he sang despite the groaning of the inmates, the cuss words, the shouts, and the jeers. \n\nThere was a lull in the music as he tried to think of the next lyric, and he glanced at one of the inmates who was now begging him to stop, to allow them a break from the noise. \n\n\"I'm sorry, but . . . Wasn't it *You* Who told me my act wasn't funny?\" He raised his eyebrows, his expression questioning as much as his words. The inmate's face dropped, becoming mournful. \"I could have been telling you jokes . . . Making you laugh . . . But you had to go and try to hurt me. So I'll show you funny.\" Momus grinned and began strumming louder, suddenly screaming the lyrics. \n\nOnce he ran out of breath and took a deep one to scream again, he was interrupted by the familiar voice of his sister. He stopped pre-scream, and turned to look at her with a big smile on his face, his eyes lighting up. \n\n\"ERIS!\" The scream he had prepared for singing wound up being his greeting. \"What a pleasant surprise! Have you come to help me entertain these heathens?\" He motioned to the rest of the cell block, and a collective groan emanated from several cells. \"They're a tough crowd, but I feel like we can double-team 'em!\" \n\nHe pulled a clown horn out of his pocket - which was much too big to have actually been in his pocket - and honked it a few times, waking up any inmate who looked like they were asleep. \n\n\"What'do'ya say?\"" } ]

[ { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "3 days.\nAnger was an all-consuming thing, much like the fire that changed everything in the Todoroki household. Greedy. Relentless. Even if no lives were lost, the devastation would remain for years to come. Those touched by such a heat source would surely be scorched, ash being left in its wake. Unfortunately, not all fire killed a person physically, instead taking hold of a person's mind with the only evidence being some scars to prove it. It wasn't fair– life was not fair– it was sickening how cruel it could be at times. If he could, the eldest Todoroki would go back in time and let himself embrace Death with a soft expression and smile.\n\n2 days.\nFire wasn't entirely terrible, often bringing many positives along throughout the years that it takes to rebuild itself. New life forms from fires, things are reborn as something much healthier than they had been previously. Todoroki Toya was almost no exception, being reborn into something much more than who he had been previously. Hair grown back from the fire that had taken it and turned into the softest color of snow, blanketing the previous fire-red locks until there was nothing left. From an intense flame to the harshest of blizzards, there was no happy medium for someone like Toya. It was all or nothing and he had no intentions of being just nothing– of *Doing* Just nothing. It was something he resented and judged his family for more than he should; the only thing that he found Enji could do right. He was so much like him that it made his father sick sometimes.\n\n1 day.\nHow long had it been since Toya had submitted that video? At least two weeks, maybe more. The cold staples embedded into his face, holding new pieces of skin together with old served as some sort of vague reminder. If he'd taken care of them properly, he would have known the exact date and time, but after years of abuse it all just meshed together into one. Definitely one of the worst beatings he'd received though, that much he was aware of. After days of filming and refilming that video, he'd been unsure on how to get it out to the general public all at once. Sure he had a big following on both social media of his, but it wasn't enough, especially when people all over the world followed him. That's when an old friend of his had popped into his head, remembering something about how the other was extremely capable at hacking. It was a long shot, but he'd sent a text, an agreement was made, and the payment was sent. He hoped it would be as impactful as he wished it to be.\n\n**0 days. Show time.**\nStanding in the middle of the crowd that was watching Todoroki Enji on the big screen blab about how he was *So* Grateful to be voted for the position of mayor, acting humble as always. Toya silently thanked his father for his acting skills at that moment. Static filled the large screens surrounding New York's Time Square before swapping to a video of him sitting on a tattered couch with a solid-colored wall behind him. Fingers pressed together and scars out on full display between his shirtless form and shorts he intentionally wore, he began to speak into the microphone he'd set up. After a minute, it swapped to a video secretly filmed of himself being beaten within an inch of his pitiful life, ending with him hacking up some blood before swapping to multiple images of wounds inflicted upon him due to his poor excuse of a parent. He didn't mention his other family past saying that one had been abused the same and the other two ignored, their poor mother driven to a breaking point. With a simple \"Goodbye\", the video ended. Gasps and whispers filled the air; he'd done his job." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I figured mike might want to read it." }, { "author": "aurrstar", "message": "I may start crying mid read" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Yes he is. He's trying, anyway." }, { "author": "aurrstar", "message": "The tsars are comig\n\nNo words to describe how i feel rn" }, { "author": ". kai,chisaki ,-", "message": "Suicide is a foolish thing to Chisaki. To him, it is an act of cowardice - an easy way out of one's problems without considering the repercussions that it will have on others. Taking one's own life is a permanent solution to a temporary issue. It is an unforgivable sin in his eyes, one that he cannot comprehend. He believes that every individual is responsible for their own actions and should take accountability for them. Suicide is nothing but an escape for those who lack the courage to confront their problems head-on. It is like walking into an active public space with a bomb tied to your torso. The second the bomb explodes, you, and everyone close to you gets hurt. That's every suicide. Every single one. An act of terror ‭perpetrated against everyone who's ever known you, everyone who's ever loved you, the people closest to you, the ones who cherish you are the ones who suffer the most pain, the most damage. For Chisaki, suicide is simply not an option. Life is a precious gift, and one should be grateful for every moment of it, irrespective of how difficult it might be.\n\nMind racing as he made his way towards the broken-down building. Despite a fever running hot in his blood, he was determined to reach his crew member in need. What kind of emergency had arisen that Toya felt compelled to send him that alarming text message? He knew that he needed to act quickly, as the situation could potentially spiral out of control if left unchecked. As he ran towards his destination, he thought of his Tomomi, and how she would react if she found out that he had left the house despite being unwell. She could be quite overbearing at times, and he knew that he didn't need that kind of lecture during such a critical moment. He shrugged off the thought and continued on, his eyes focused on the task at hand.\n\n_ _ \nChisaki's current attire was more casual then regular - a white t-shirt and black sweatpants that he had worn all day lounging at home. It wasn't exactly his usual outfit, but it was comfortable and functional. He didn't have time to worry about his appearance, however, and continued his mad dash through the city streets. He realized too late that he had forgotten to take off his glasses and replace them with contacts, but he didn't let this slow him down. He knew that every second counted, and he couldn't afford to waste even a moment. He made his way up the stairs of the abandoned building, he cursed himself for not bringing anyone else with him, but in that moment, there was no time to think about that. All that mattered was saving Toya from himself.\n\nToya was standing on the edge of the rooftop, ready to jump off. All the moments they had shared together flashed before Chisaki's eyes, making his resolve stronger. He had to save him, no matter the cost. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he knew he had to keep calm. The seconds felt like an eternity as Kai sprinted towards him. His breathing was heavy, and his vision tunneled as he got closer and closer to the ledge. But he didn't waver. He had to get there, to prevent Toya from doing something they would both regret. As he reached out to grab his lover, the world seemed to stand still.\n\n_ _\nEach memory that flickered across his consciousness was like a dagger driven deep into his heart. His life might have been different if he had never met Toya, if he had never been drawn in by the other man's charisma and deep eyes. Despite his anger and frustration, Kai knew that he would never truly be able to forget him. The other man had left an indelible mark on his soul, one that could not be erased by any amount of money or effort. There was a part of him that wanted to hate the Todoroki for what he was about to do, for the way that he's about to shattered Kai's world and leave him broken and alone. He longed to forget those tender moments, where he let his guard down and whispered those tender \"I love you's\" To the other with his face buried in his neck, the feel of Toya's warm skin against his own.\n\n**They had been doomed from the start.**\n\nChisaki caught up with reality, finally, he grabbed Toya's hoodie tightly, he would've pulled the other back lest in his panic the only thing he got a good grip on with the hoodie string. \n\nTime froze around him. His life too flashed before his eyes in an instant, each one bringing back memories both good and bad. The first person who came to his mind was Eri, his daughter girl he still loved despite the unresolved drama between them. He regretted not being able to make things right with her, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted by thoughts of Hari. Hari was Chisaki's other half, his best friend, and the one person who had sacrificed so much for him. Kai couldn't thank him enough for being there for him all these years. His mind then suddenly shifted to Tomomi. Tomomi was someone who had become closer to Kai than anyone else. She was like a mother figure to him, someone he could always turn to for guidance and support. The ex-capo was grateful for their presence in his life, and he couldn't imagine how he would have made it this far without them.\n\n_ _\nHe had done so many terrible things in his life.\n\nThe very moment the hoodie string pulled out ||*(Thank God it was enough to Toya back a little bit)*||, Kai lunged forward to grab the other's whole, taking a few steps backwards before falling onto his back. What if he hadn't acted quickly? In that split second where he saw the snowy-haired man's body falling towards the ground, everything had gone blank. But now, reality had kicked in and he knew that he couldn't let the Todoroki go just yet. He refused to let death win. There was stubborn determination within both he and Toya, one that wouldn't allow him to accept defeat without a fight. He couldn't lose Toya, not when there was still so much potential left for him to fulfil.\n\nFeeling his weight against him all Kai needed. As he lay on the rooftop with Toya in his arms tightly, he spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper, *\"Don't. I've got you.\"*\n\nToya Todoroki was going to be the death of Kai Chisaki." }, { "author": "aurrstar", "message": "Ass tastes so good bro" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "This is so fucking good i'm screaming rn." } ]

[ { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Everything and everyone else in the world will leave eventually, he'll be alone; whiskey and painkillers, the closest thing to comfort— to that strange thing people call *Home*. Though no one will leave unscathed. Everything is riddled with claw marks and stains of red. School doesn't teach the basics of being a good person in any curriculum. You can't learn how to let go, reading a book, solving an equation, drowning in the contents of a lecture. \n\nHe longed to let go.\n\nHe longed to be better than this.\n\n**Go do some drugs or some shit and just fuck off.**\n\nCrescent moons carved into his palms, ragged nails cutting into calluses and blisters. Toya knew him better than he even knew himself— they knew exactly how to bend him near to breaking. God forbid he ever truly shatter beneath this weight, he couldn't bear the thought of doing that to them; being weak, failing them and everything he'd ever promised. \nSometimes, though, he could feel himself itching inside. Sometimes, this feeling roared in his ears; pounding of a drum, Incoherent screams. Sometimes, he swore he could see it on his body; the breakage and crumbling. Cracks blooming into his flesh, threatening to leave him in pitiful pieces at any moment; aged and overwhelmed porcelain, no strength to hold itself together for a moment longer. Every split in his being lessened what little humanity he'd ever possessed.\n\nHis phone screen should have melted by now; the way his gaze had so long been fixed upon those insignificant strings of letters. The words were nothing but a small prod at purpled scar tissue, it was his own mind that took a blade and tore the poorly healed wounds wide open. \n\nHe forced himself to his feet, rummaged through the kitchen; a few prescription bottles ripped from their designated homes in the cupboards. Oxy, room temperature whiskey, the raw burning of liquor down the throat. It wouldn't be enough, but then again, nothing ever would. He hadn't the time to indulge further tonight though. He'd hurt Toya enough; he had to go, had to see them, had to make this all okay. \n\nMaybe if he had been there, they wouldn't have been forced to endure this.\n\nOut the door, down the elevator, bottom floor, parkade, jingling keys, car, traffic. The city lights polluted the darkness as he weaved through the somewhat deadened lanes of traffic— always a little calmer at this hour.\n\nReuniting with Toya shortly after moving here, the rare break away from studies, penetrating eyes, and poisonous words all around him, he'd met them halfway at an old building. It was crumbling in some places and nearly pitch black inside aside from the light broken windows faintly filtered in. The doors were broken down, flights of stairs lead him and Toya up to the roof. An old apartment complex; the stench of mold and the scurrying of rats gave way to wordless stories of its downfall. Though, none of that stood out as much to him as the view from above. The building didn't stretch to scrape against the clouds, unlike many of the structures to populate the city, but the view was still fantastic. The people down below still appeared, insignificant and tiny from this height, and the sights of the city still carried on forever, beyond the perception of the pitiful human eye. One visit turned to two, turned to three, turned to four... Some days, they'd sit up on the ledge of that rooftop, hardly speak a word. Other days, they'd talk, dusk till dawn. Sometimes they talked about marriage, other days, falling off that ledge together. He could never fully decide which was more oddly romantic.\n\nThis time around was different though. The mold stayed, as did the rats and the crumbling bricks, but between himself and Toya, things were simply different. He wasn't good for them, they were starting to see it. Shame loomed over him as he panted and wheezed up the last flight of stairs, shoving the door to the rooftop wide open. Just a gut feeling, a sixth sense that they'd be here.\n\n\"Found you...\"\n\nHe tiredly mused, steps staggered towards the ledge, weight settled in a tired drop next to Toya, legs swung over the rooftop ledge. He fixed his focus to the world down below. He wasn't quite sure if he could meet the pain in the others' eyes just yet." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "It just took me 4 minutes to write \"Beauty\" I'm going to kms." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Pfff- tired by any chance?" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "No, i just have no brain cells." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Felt on a spiritual level" }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "Regret. It was something that Toya rarely felt anymore- not if he had a choice in it, anyway. There was no point in feeling something so raw and disheartening when nothing could ever change- when nothing *Would* Ever change. It was mildly ironic, the way that he felt about regret as if the situation would be any different with his father one day. It was all just a losing battle, something that was pointless and never to occur. Somewhere in his brain, he understood that to his very core, but he never gave himself the chance to digest it. He clawed at his throat aimlessly, almost as if he was choking whenever he thought about it.\n\nThe trek up the stairs through the damp and dark building was nothing ever exciting and often times Toya would question why he even found solace in this place. Perhaps it was because he somehow felt that it was a physical reflection of his heart, his brain, of himself. It replicated the darkness he often felt was swallowing him whole, making him seem like he was disgusting and unmanageable. Although it wasn't something he'd ever admit himself, it also managed to mirror the way that he was still somehow salvageable to some extent. That there was a hidden beauty within even the grimiest of places, even if you have to work your way to the top to see it. It was poetic in a way.\n\nOther would eventually find them here on this face rooftop. Sometimes, Toya wished he hadn't shown it to the blond so that he could have ended his wretched life years ago instead of making that godforsaken pact they sealed with drunkenly-inked initials and bleeding palms. Other times, however, he knew that if it weren't for that he would have done so and in doing that he would have missed out on his up-and-coming plan for revenge. He couldn't kill himself yet, no matter how badly he wanted to. His plan had to be complete before he'd eventually attempt to end his life in this very spot." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I was going to keep going, but i sort-of rushed it because i have to do something.\n\nYou're alright, take your time.\n\nOh also don't worry about matching the length, i know it's long as fuck." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "A long way down. In another world, a better world, he'd leaned forward. His palms would absorb the texture of the gravelly, crumbling brick, an imprint. The wind, unforgiving as life itself, would slice at his features and tug at his hair as life happened to the clueless millions down below. In another world, he'd abandoned the brick. In another world, he flew. Wings wildly sprouted from the marred indentations against his scapulas, and for the first time in his life, he was better, worthy, good. For the first time, he would have smiled without strain as the plaster of the old mask shattered to dust. Everything is just right, and then it's not, and then it's over.\n\nThat's just a fantasy though; the kind he used to indulge in as a stupid kid.\n\nHe turned, rested his focus upon Toya; tear stained and tired. How many times had he seen them like this before? How many times had he found himself at a loss before the sight? He'd swipe away their tears if the salt hadn't already stained their cheeks. The high had set in and he hated himself. They would be disgusted if they knew. This was the easy way out; cheating on the hardest test. To be high, was to tease the thin borders between life and death. He'd never get any closer than this to the one thing he'd always craved. Ironic, when the world around him had begun to breathe, and the city lights below had begun to combust with vibrant color. The world seemed to simply thrive the moment he parted from it. His heartbeat drummed a broken rhythm in his ear. Muscles in his thighs, fingers, and eyelids had taken to twitching within the spacing of seconds. \n\n\"I would.\" He eventually nodded, words nearly whispered.\n\nShackled to the earth, Toya held the keys to his freedom. He could tug and strain and scream, but all efforts would be deemed futile, as long as Toya was alive. He had promised them his life just as they had promised him theirs; a binding of blood, never to be broken. Their initials rested near to his heart; these promises had been engraved into his anatomy." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "The wind that whipped past them, pushing and pulling in different directions as the trees aggressively swayed, small cracks in the building below creating a sort of whistle. The lights twinkled in the darkness, seemed even more vibrant with how blurry Toya's vision was and he wished to dance with them. Perhaps in another life, he'd be able to dance in front of the entire world without care, the sounds of nature being his personal orchestra in those moments— but that was only a fantasy. Achieving such a serene moment was nearly impossible as it stood now.\n\nAs Toya's question was replied just as he thought it would be, he gave a single click of his tongue as a form of unspecified acknowledgment. There were certain things in his life that were absolute, things like the fact that his father would never change and the fact that wherever he went, Keigo would eventually follow. Although reciprocated, he would never admit that, both to himself and the blond that sat beside him in a high-haze. From the corner of his eye, he could see the subtle twitches as his body reacted to the drugs Toya had told him to go take. He blamed himself for what the blond had done not long before arriving on the rooftop, as if he wouldn't have done it anyway regardless.\n\n\"You shouldn't.\" The reply was flat, devoid of any feeling as cerulean-blue eyes blurred further. Grabbing the familiar cigarette carton from his pocket, he pulled one of the paper-rolled tobacco sticks out and lit it before taking a long drag of it. After a moment, he exhaled, the smoke flying off into the wind as he offered it to Keigo. \"I'm leaving soon and I don't want you to follow me.\" Leave where exactly? He wouldn't specify, ever the mysterious man he was, dancing around meanings with almost-poetic words and phrases that left a feeling of discomfort to those who listened." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "It's terrible, but i wanted to give you a quick reply." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Terrible my ass, your writing is always gorgeous\n\nKeigo's gonna follow him 😒" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Of course he is. LAMAOAO. Toya is talking about once the big reveal happens and he tries to kill himself." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "You thinking of actually killing Toya off because I can think of like a whole bunch of ways Keigo could meddle in that if you wanna keep him alive" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Toya is genuinely going to try to, but kai finds him at the last minute and literally grabs him as he's slipping off the edge." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "The poor fucking babies my lord" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "They had him laughing, the tired yet unfiltered laughter he'd always reserved just for them. No one else could ever see him like this, and he'd worked to assure that all his life since the very moment he and Toya had collided. Only Toya could see the ugly thing beneath all these layers of deceit. He'd spent so much of his life away on pretty lies and performances, it was easy to forget there was something human behind it all.\n\nTrembling fingers, he'd taken their cigarette, raised it to his lips for a drag. His breaths left him unsteady as bitter smoke filled in his hopelessly straining lungs. A moment passed and he had found himself smiling, snickering at their words; nothing about this was funny, yet he felt almost giddy. Again, he twists this blade deeper into his own abdomen.\n\n\"You keep telling me what to do...\" A small cloud of smoke drifting sluggishly from his lips. His eyes were dark— they always were, not often were they downright empty though. \"...You expect unrealistic things from me, Toya. I can't stop following you.\" He hated that this man was all he knew, he hated them for suggesting that he ever leave, he hated that it was so easy for them to say these things. \n\nThe mere thought of being left only in the company of himself on this dreaded planet sickened him, welled up a familiar ache behind his eyes and a lump in his throat. To spend the rest of his existence staring down at his bloodied hands as the past wrung his neck, traced his scars, he was petrified. He didn't stand a chance in this living hell, not without Toya.\n\nMaybe that made him pathetic.\n\n\"Pushing me away like this...\" Curses to the way his voice broke as he spoke, watching the world rise and fall, inhale, exhale. \"...It's pointless, futile. I've never left you. I never *Will* Leave you. This isn't an exception. Every step of the way..., I'll be here, got it?\"" }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "He's so in love it's disgusting" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I don't know how to finish this.\n\nAnd then they kiss. /hj\n\n\"I don't know how to finish this reply off.\"\n\nI just broke it into two messages.\n\nLMAOAOAO. I don't know how to finish the reply. I have everything but like,,, the last bit.\n\nOng i'll make them kiss if i can't figure anything else out.\n\n10/10 do recommend.\n\nI'LL SET IT UP FOR A KISS AND YOU CAN DECIDE IF YOU WANT THEM TO. I'M A GENIUS." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Damn then the cheating is gonna be Keigo's fault. God he's problematic 😒" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "He's single rn dw shawty. I already thought of that.\n\nHe is for when this rp is taking place. It's happening like an hour or two after he broke up with kai.\n\nI do not condone this behavior ong i promise.\n\nOh my god both people toya is gay with have gold eyes. He has a type smh.\n\nGold eyes and dangerous." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Sorta love and hate that for him??" }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "\"If my father is the most selfish man in the world, I am the most selfish person in the universe for not forcing you away from me.\" As if Toya could truly stop the other; he knew that he couldn't. Slowly, he blinked as his tears began to dry and his gaze grew more dull as the shimmer of the tears slowly vanished. There was a glint to them, however, that was dangerous and would prove to be worrisome in the near future. Sweeping over to see the other's golden eyes, he let out a shaky exhale, his shoulder just lightly touching Keigo's. It was easy to get lost in the sight of something as gorgeous as the sight of the sun." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "You can't hear me, but i'm giggling." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Your writing is gorgeous, gets me every fucking time" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Thank you, yours is much nicer, though. After our first rp in that other server, i started trying to mimic it more." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Embarassed to say I've taken a ton of inspiration from your style myself\n\nK I'mma make them smooch\n\nThe way we talk about them, it reminds me of like, how you'd talk about two fucking barbie dolls when mashing them against each other or whatever idk that sorta shit kids do like hol on" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I LAUGHED SO LOUD LMAOAOOAA.\n\nONG I'M GOING TO WAKE UP MY PARENTS AHAHAH." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "He'd lived out his young years under the crumbling roof of a man and a woman. He shared their blood, their last name, he wore their features like his own. They weren't his family though, nor would they ever be. Maybe he was a broken record, but he knew well enough. His body ached, his conscience weighed heavy. *Father's don't do these things to their sons.* He would always think to himself, fixing his clothing, wiping blood from his disheveled body.\nHe believed in no god, never bothered to wish on a star, and yet, the very day he met Toya, something in him had been brought to peace, a crushing boulder shoved off his chest. He'd worship this now– this feeling, those eyes, like the prettiest seas. An absence in himself, in his life, he hadn't any other choice but to follow this boy to the ends of the Earth. \n\nNo, *Selfish* Was far fetched. The word didn't belong to Toya, rather, his father and all the other terrible men in the world. A second's worth of dazed nonsense in his mind had led him to the conclusion that even he fit the title far better; a taker, no more, no less, like father, like son. All he knew was theft; robbing this man of time, energy, space. He could see the confliction within their gaze, reminiscent of a turbulent sea. They deserved freedom and he couldn't give it to them. Never ever.\n\nHe couldn't fucking let go. His uselessness flooded him with waves of burning resentment.\n\nTheir shoulders brushed. They were staring and so was he. The gorgeous blue of their eyes, the marred scarring of their pale skin. He was weak, he wanted only to cry, staring into their pain and the shortcomings of all that he'd simply stood by and allowed them to endure.\n\n\"I choose to stay. You're kind enough to keep me.\" He retorted with a weak smile as he reached for their hand, laced their fingers tight; the flesh melted, something messy and inseparable. \"I don't like that word for you. It's unfitting and stupid...*Selfish*.\" The words were punctuated with quiet laughter. \"...Selfish, my ass.\" \n\nAll his life he'd pondered why he does these things; what possesses him to knowingly sicken himself like a dumb dog gnawing on weeds. He traced their figure with his eyes; the dark of night accentuated the appearance of Scars. In a way, everything was a reminder of the first time. *He laid with Toya, breathed in the sight of their body, and lowered himself to their bare skin. The pounding of their heart, the labor of their every breath. That night, that first night, he'd spent the longest time kissing every scar, head to toe.* Sometimes he wished only to do it again; remind them that nothing has changed, that they're okay, that everything will be okay, even if it takes years to be grounded again– at least as grounded as they could ever truly be.\n\nSitting on this ledge next to the other, he'd meet death in a forward fall. Though somehow, leaning towards the other instead felt just as dangerous. He raised his free hand and tangled it through their hair as he hesitantly closed the unbearable distance. His lips met theirs." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "SHUT UP I LOVE YOUR FUCKING WRITING OH MY GOD." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "THIS IS ONE OF MY WORST I HATE IT" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Makes me happy to read fr;\n\nIoa sldmfvbwpuirkgm\n\nMakes my brian go brr.Rrr.Rr.Rr" }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "He's inevitable honestly" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Let me make sure i'm finished with my chores rq." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "In moments like these, however, Toya seemed to remember what it was like to be warm for even a short amount of time. As the words uttered from Keigo's lips continued, fingers lacing together in a messy sort of symphony, the ice built around him had slowly melted away. Not entirely, but it was enough to create a sort of gentle, but exhausted look in his blue eyes as he wordlessly stared back. He was selfish, he understood that, no matter how badly he may try not to be at times it was in his nature at this point. Something burned and branded into his mind to be thanks to his father's harsh trainings as a child. His selfishness wasn't a scorching heat like his father's, though, instead a subtle flame that was all too inviting. Comfortable at first, but quick to burn those who were around for too long.\n\n\"Then what word would you rather describe me as, birdie?\" The nickname fell from Toya's chapped lips whisperingly, although a nickname he hadn't used in quite some time. Swallowing thickly, his eyes flickered down to Keigo's lips for one moment before they connected, finger tips pressing lightly atop the other's hands. Head tilting the smallest amount, his free hand reached forwards and lightly grasped onto the front of the blonde's hoodie, pulling him in just a little closer. It was warm for once, much warmer than the words alone had made him feel. For a second, a faint smile tugged at his lips before disappearing again as he let himself get lost in the other. One leg lightly knocked Keigo's and his grasp grew just a little bit tighter on his hoodie, his body set ablaze the longer they touched. The cold, unforgiving winter would never stop for Toya, but it did have it's warmer days." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Now i'm going to shower and then join." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "The bestiest besties" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I made it sappy. Dknslsndjsndd" }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "I'm debating which direction I should take this\n\nLemme spam you with some ideas first\n\nYou're gonna hate me\n\nLike more sad than the last one I think" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I just like your writing." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Birdie...\n\n*Every day, he heard it; shrill noise outside beyond the crumbling walls. The pitch was too high, too repetitive; no human would ever bother to waste their time and breath away on something so strange. Asking mom, he was rewarded with silence, asking dad, laughter. Some days, mom and dad would leave; those days were the greatest. He was supposed to enjoy the presence of his father; enjoy whatever he'd so kindly be given, even if it hurt, even if it broke him. Yet, he anticipated complete and utter solitude.*\n\n*He remembered the day well; dragging his body across the rickety bloodstained floors, the effort leaving him to stew in a feverish sweat. Every motion was a reminder, another reason to retch. He was sick for reasons that were lacking of a name, an identity, a face. Across the floor, everything within these walls was so small, so cramped, and yet this pain made mattress to window a laborious trek. Window, he rested his chin against the stool, surveyed the mysterious outside.*\n\n*That sound again, his heart skipped a beat. A bush outside, a little feathered thing hopping around through the branches and leaves. When it finally emerged, he gaped at the sight of its glorious feathers and dumbly struggled to comprehend. It's colors were impossible, so extremely vibrant in contrast to the bland palette of a humans; bright red, compliments of black wrapping around its strange, pointy little mouth. It opened to speak and that sound... That sound he'd sought a name and reason for all this time had slipped past it. The little creature provided him better company than mom or dad ever could. It was a bird apparently, that was what mom called it. Days passed by that window. He was unmoving. His father did as he always did when he was dense and drunk, Keigo had taken to clinging to the stool until his fingertips had begun to bruise, moonlight cast over his tear soaked features as he cried out wordlessly for that little bird, begging for it to return and take him too.*\n\n*Let me fly away. Please let me fly away with you...*\n\n*Toya met him as the little boy who'd always stare up at the sky and smile at those birds he'd always desperately envied.*\n\nHe snaked an arm snuggly around their waist, shuddered in the company of their touch, cursed himself for weakness. They were smiling against him and he couldn't help but to smile in turn, squeezing their hand tight, rubbing his thumb in absent patterns over their knuckles. \n\n\"I donno anymore...\" He murmured to their lips. A few kisses to the corner of their mouth, drifting eyes. \"...I can't summarize you with a word... I just know how you make me feel, what I see, what I know... It's not pretty, it's never been pretty, but it's *You*...\"\n\n*You, who has held my hand when no one else in the world could bear the broken sight of me.*\n\n*You, who has taught me how to live, how to exist on this planet.*\n\n*You, who has become my home.*\n\nHe too had stooped to primal desperation. He dipped his feet into the water, now he couldn't bear to come up for air. What a wonderful way to drown. Breathless huffs rarely slipped past him. He accommodated every collision with parted lips, subtle nods, caresses. \n\n\"...And I don't mind *You*... Not at all.\"" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I am actually screaming rn.\n\nThey're so fucking.\n\nBfkssnsnsndndbdjsksjakajwnnfcnsiebjrbeoqbfdj.\n\nMessy love always gets my mind going brrrr." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "It's always like, super unconventional while also being passionate as fuck. Love that shit" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Fucking exactly. Don't get me wrong, i love romantic relationships that are wholesome and adorable and fun, but this kind just hits different." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "If you're in the mood for literate, this is here. Donno if I'll be up for a while to write or not on this end yet, still feeling it out" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "You're alright, don't worry.\n\nI'm working on a response slowly, but i can't find anything i like." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "What's got you stuck?" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "It's not as poetic as yours.\n\nAlso not quite as long." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "I write weird though. I can't describe stuff as nicely as you so I depend on metaphors and symbolism, don;t compare based off of that 😭\n\nNot as long, it can be whatever length you want, no expectation there" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "No you don't. You write nicely, poetically, in a way i struggle to. I write much more literally. I want to write more like your style." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "I find your writing gorgeous and I'll preach that until you believe it. There's beauty in every style and I envy a ton about the way you write. You wanna try a more poetic style though, try thinking of far fetched comparisons for whatever you're writing that can serve to paint a picture. Personify things. Use visceral and sometimes gross wording for physichal descriptions and feels...\n\nThere's nothing wrong with your writing though, I swear to god. I love your style; it's immersive, descriptive. It paints a picture, illustrates emotions well" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Fuck off before i cry.\n\nYour writing is really fucking stunning too." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "\"I-I-I-I-I-\" Getting caught on the first word, Toya broke the kiss just enough to press their foreheads together, brows knit in frustration at his inability to start off the sentence straight. He wasn't nervous, he was *Never* Nervous, but he was emotionally fragile right now, more now than usual and it became evident in the way he spoke. \"I ccccan't be pretty, but I c—can be me.\" Once he'd managed to get out most of what he wanted to say, he exhaled, a breath held that he hadn't realized had been sitting in his chest. His thumb absentmindedly rubbed the side of Keigo's, the gentle touches more than enough for him. He never asked for flowery words or pretty pictures, nor would he ever ask for them; asking for Keigo to stay by his side was far selfish enough of him and he would hold onto that simple request for the rest of his miserable life.\n\n\"I don't mind... Mind you either.\"" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "It's a little shorter than yours, but not by much. </3" }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Fuck I love your writing." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Every touch was a tiny fire set to his flesh. A fire that seared away at every layer of his external being, charred him to the very core. The absence of their lips, their warmth, their taste, he died a little. Who was he to ask for more though? Not an inch of space between them, limbs entwined, the warmth of clashing breaths. He rubbed his forehead to theirs, one hand in their hair, unsteady fingers tangled through disheveled strands of off white. The other rested beneath the fabrics of their shirt, open palm pressed firmly to the heart.\n\n\"Toya...\" He chuckled the first half, the biggest smile torn across his features. Their noses brushed, as did their lips, as did their everything. \"...I don't want you to be pretty, that's not you. It's fake. I've got enough fake in my life already. ...I don't give a flying fuck about what you look like, actually...\" The words left him without the slightest shiver of doubt, his half lidded gaze clashing against theirs. It wasn't the time or place to say it, but he would love the bastard with three heads, feathers and horns. They were already monsters; nothing could deter him anymore.\n\nHe allowed his lips to brush against their skin, a misguided paintbrush; no purpose, merely marking a torn and tired canvas. He relished in the shivers and twitches beneath, teasing their lips before drifting down, kissing against their jawline and the upper of their neck. Some places, he could feel the life coursing unwillingly through them; the pumping of their blood, the heat it conjured. Every now and then, it crossed his mind; how easy it would be to end this for the both of them. Pack a blade in his pocket, or sink his incisors into the give of the thin flesh. They allow him the luxury of trust; exposed veins, throat. It wouldn't take much.\n\nSometimes, it was easy to wonder if it would be better that way; no more of this. No more for them, no more for him. Two bloody bodies. He, at least, would die without regrets, one with his *Home*. But maybe the beauty of such an end isn't found in just the ending itself, rather, the gift of choice and the kindness of a mutually, knowingly shared blade. He would wait. It was for Toya to choose. He hadn't the right to be tired or ready just yet.\n\n\"...I've never cared about that, not truly...\"\n\nHis eyes darted downward and he tugged at the others shirt, pulling it up, exposing their chest, their abdomen. Littered in scars. One thing people don't seem to understand about scars of these sorts is that there is no healing. These wounds are hesitantly patched; whatever stops the bleeding and the tears. His hands aren't wet or reddened to touch them, but the blood is still there; it's never gone away. These wounds are as fresh as the day Toya had endured those hellish flames; they still burned beneath the padding of curious fingertips. Fire to Toya's anatomy. Keigo lowered his head, brushed his lips against the marred, purpled skin. He looked back up, his eyes asked before the words sluggishly slipped away.\n\n\"May I..?\"" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Calmed me down, so thanks.\n\nYour writing is really nice.\n\nYou should be proud of it" }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Shit- that sounds, freaky-\n\nI feel it dosen't make much sense to read" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Physically? Yes, besides for the sickness.\n\nThe response makes me stupidly happily.\n\nI'm re-reading it on my laptop.\n\nIf keigo killed toya at this point, i don't even think he'd be mad. The video has been made and is literally just waiting to be broadcasted so he gets his revenge even after death. He would die a happy man.\n\nWell. A happy-ish-sort-of man.\n\nSo is keigo basically on top of toya now?\n\nNo no, you did, i just wanted to make sure. My head is spacey rn.\n\nWhat if they're mid fuck and they just fall off the edge. How traumatic would that be.\n\nBro mid air they just look at one another and are like \"Oh okay\".\n\nYou think toya would say some dumb shit like \"So you do think i'm hot?\".\n\nI'm going back and forth on it.\n\nSo,,,,, i might have got a bit excited and just,,,,,,,,\n\nStarted writing,,,,,,,," }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "\"Yeeeeee–\" Another pause that Toya took as he involuntarily drug out the one word he was attempting to say, brows furrowed together once again for a second before he huffed out. \"Yeah.\" Giving a nod to solidify what he said, he leaned back until he was basically laying down on the concrete rooftop below. Golden staples dug into his half-healthy and half-burnt skin, but he couldn't feel most of it, too enraptured with what was going on in the moment. Grabbing at the edge of the others shirt and hoodie together, he gave a small tug upwards before pulling it over the blond's head in response. Haphazardly pushing it beneath his own body to both create a cushion for his back and keep it from potentially flying away, he did the same with his own shirt that had been removed only moments prior.\n\n\"So, you still— think I'm h-h-hot?\" A playful grin tugged up at Toya's lips, his newly stapled face sending a sort of sting through his face that he ignored." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Giggling and kicking my feet\n\nAnd crying because they're sad\n\nAnd your writing is beautiful" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Jfjdjdjd thank you." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "I wonder if I can knock out a response before I pass out" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "You don't have to match the length or anything, i just got carried away.\n\nYeah i figured LMAO." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"Psh, the hottest...\"\n\nHe grinned into those words. His shuddered breaths touched them before anything else.\n\nA moment of hesitancy. The almost comfortable sense of dread. The familiarity and nostalgia of it all.\n\nIn a perfect world, his calloused fingertips wouldn't have snagged and caught against the cold metal of Toya's staples. In a perfect world, that metal wouldn't have to hold Toya together in the first place. In a perfect world, this is pure and untainted, just like how the movies always show it. Just like how it's supposed to be. Living in a fairy tale is no better than hardly living at all, though; Keigo wasn't good enough to make this perfect. He wasn't good enough to be loving, hold the others face like the world itself rests in his unworthy hands, spew beautiful sugary sweet things from his lips, reward the other for the endurance test of their life and for once, tell them what they needed to hear. He wasn't what they needed him to be; dirty fingerprints against a tattered canvas. \n\nHe'd swallow down the shame if he could. \n\nHe'd be better if he knew how.\n\nGod, how he longed to be better than *This.*\n\nHis lips brushed, then pressed against the rigged stapled lining of a large scar; the one that stretched as a tattered strip across their torso, greedily devouring the once thriving flesh of the area. He looked up again, no more than a second, and the blue of the sea had already crashed upon the sandy shorelines. Their eyes were his addiction, though that meant very little coming from an addict. Everything; all of them, he took it in as though he may never ever have the privilege again. Mental notes; the texture of rough skin beneath his tongue, the salt of sweat, the lingering scent of their last shower that had him stupidly smiling to himself. Such a badass when their signature scent was blueberry. The pungent stench of smoke hardly saved them.\n\nHe ran his hand down along the curved dip of their side, his lips blindly followed until they met with the borders of fabric yet again, the waistband of their pants resting, disheveled, just a little below the hips. \n\n\"You're a work of fucking art..., I really hope you know that...\"\n\nHis words abandoned him into the cold night air with breathless strain as he pulled himself back up, kissed the corner of their mouth.\n\nSince college, he'd taken to the arts— painting specially. If the world wasn't so greedy and demanding, he would have lived with a purpose far less pitiful than this. He could have created; he could have been an artist. College, his amateur works were always vague. Abstract illustrations of a pain with no name, no face. That, and birds. Strange how the two things came hand in hand. Blood, and feathers. Violation and shrill chirps. It was stupid, really. But, back then, it was something, and *Something* Was all he needed to keep him going.\n\nThose works belonged to him and only him; something beautiful sculpted of a life so ugly. No one could take that from him. No one but Toya, at least. They'd never believe him and he'd never tell, but reuniting with them dragged him back into the neglected world of pallets and paint brushes when he'd been alone and distracted by all else in life. The only change; these strokes were no longer made in his own honor. Suddenly, everything belonged to them. He resented the way they slithered into his thoughts. The seas of their eyes found their way into every piece. \n\nYet, they were blissfully unaware of all the nights he'd spent, screaming, and kicking tattered holes into every canvas, every piece. They haunted him more cruelly than any ghost ever could. \nHis eyelids trembled shut, lashes brushing against the others cheeks. The dark of night gifted the illusion of privacy and solitude; it was dark enough, they didn't have to see the trouble in his eyes." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "They're so sickening ilove teh," }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "I almost wanna rewrite it I hate it sm for some reason lmfao" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "It paints a pretty picutre for htier reltaionaship." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "I just randomly remembered detailing that Keigo is super into painting on my doc for him 😭 I'll reread it for a bit, for now I'm bitter over it" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Sjdfjsfhuif fondt me.\n\n\"Such a badass when their signature scent was blueberry\" Man i think that's so much fucking funnier than it is." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "Such a compliment did not fit Toya, not what he stood for or what he was comprised of. A tired person– a tired *Kid*– refusing to end his own life out of a selfish desire to ruin another person until they couldn't return from the damage he'd cause. A body littered with scars, a torso that was mostly dead skin and metal because of his inability to take care of himself properly- that was not a work of art. It was a failure of a piece, paint thrown onto a canvas with no real purpose and then sent to the flames where they finished it off. Perhaps a walking piece of art that the fire had created that day, the last *Thing* Standing who was injured by it so horrifically, unable to be entirely consumed by it physically. It'd done enough mentally, swallowing him whole, soul unable to rest until his hatred dissipated and the flames went out.\n\n\"If sssssso, you're the pa-a-a-a-aint brush.\" He'd bite down his genuine feelings on the matter, mutter something oh-so-sweet for the first time in a while, and let the feelings between the two continue to rise. Free hand now finding its way to Keigo's scarred back, his nails gently raked down them before going back up, fingertips running along the scars between his shoulder blades. The scars of a fallen angel, wings ripped from the flesh and left nothing but forever traumatized skin in their place. It was cruelly soothing in a way, knowing that he wasn't the only one with scars to hide, even if Toya's were much worse visually and physically.\n\nA deep breath in. \"I th—ink I'd rather burn again then live without you.\" A deep breath out. The confession was something Toya already knew, felt that Keigo already knew, yet he found himself admitting it aloud. In a cruel world such as this, being alone was a treacherous move and no matter how many times he'd made attempts at pushing the blond away– and would continue to make– he knew he couldn't survive alone. Not without Keigo." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I'm not the biggest fan of it, but.\n\nActually i really don't fucking like it, but." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Oh my god Ex pookie so proud of you\n\nWe slayed this gay shit" } ]

[ { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "K uh tw for implications of abuse and drug use" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Don't walk like that. Do better. Keep the pattern, keep the stability, flawless repetition in the cycle of every step. Don't waver ever. Wavering is weakness. Weakness will have you slaughtered. Make eye contact. That person looks cool. Hold their gaze. Intimidate. Don't forget to fucking smile. Perfect. \n\nFirst week. Private school. Age nine marked the year he'd familiarized himself with these uniforms– a change he'd welcomed at the time when all he'd known was dirtied rags that vaguely reeked of sweat and shame. Crisp white button downs, always accessorized with a tacky tie. Straight black trousers, always accompanied with a bland matching belt. Patent leather shoes, always one size too small, laces always perfectly tied regardless.The shirts were unchanging no matter the school, no matter the event; always unforgiving, always constricting every muscle of the torso with the fabrics that always adamantly refused to stretch. He swore sometimes, it felt as though he could suffocate to death in the damn things, though that would be a pretty embarrassing way to die. Age nine, all else faded and this– whatever this was –became his life as he knew it. Mom died that year, the year he left. She also wrung his neck, cried fat tears that had abandoned her eyes to collapse and soak his cheeks. She cried because she wanted it to end. Whatever *It* Was, he couldn't say, though he felt he knew, maybe even better than her. *It* Was over when he left, dragged out that door, being bruised by the wrist in the forceful handling of men, four men to be exact. They all dressed better than he'd ever seen anyone dress before. *It* Was over then, and she got what she wanted. Better to be happy for her than to mourn the absence. There wasn't much of an absence to mourn anyways.\n\nSixteen now. Whoever said time flies was a dirty liar, because it took too long to get here. Time doesn't fly, birds and bugs do. Those sayings always irritated him. All this time and the only consistent thing had been the goddamn uniforms; boa constrictors people pay to wear.\n\nMost days were a blur. He was walking the halls, weaving his way around the streams of students. He blinked, stepped outside of himself, faded just for a minute. Maybe more. His reflection was staring back at him now, and he resented the sight. He could hear some guy pissing just a few steps to the back of the room. When had he even decided he needed to come back here? The restrooms are dedicated either to people like the guy back there, or scumbags like himself who pull out the pill bottles or blunts or liquor and escape for maybe a minute or two. He locked himself in a stall, rummaged his bag, pulled out his escape. Escape in a bottle. An artificial moment of calm before the storm crashes upon him once again. Pop the lid, the rest is old news. The pill always catches dry in his throat. It doesn't belong. His body rejects it every time. \n\nTrembling fingers combed back through his hair and scraped his scalp. Loose golden strands fell to the floor in small clumps. The sight had his eyes wide. He swallowed dry, staggered out, a short walk of shame back to the mirror where he somehow looked worse than how he'd entered." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "You mean that the drug addict USES DRUGS? /j\n\nI'm trying to conjure up a response, but i can't right now, my apologies." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Sweetheart I never expected you to respond tonight 😭" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "But i need to reply tonight.\n\nFuck i forgot about a uni assignment due at midnight and now i can't access it." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "This was a consistent flashback for the man with cheaply dyed black hair, some white and red tufts of hair poking out in the most obscure places. As he often did, hiding in the bathroom when the onslaught of trauma began to show its ugly head was his best solution. Fingers embedded into fluffy hair and tugging anxiously, the way his silver medical staples moved within the healthy flesh and dead flesh was less than healthy, the threat of one popping loose and ruining the wrinkled white-collared shirt he wore was quickly becoming imminent. While the immediate feeling of fear was finally subsiding, the everlasting effects of the trauma wouldn't, claws embedded into his soft flesh.\n\nSniffling just a little, the 17 year old made himself presentable, practiced a few faux smiles that were all too convincing and then unlocked the stall door. Clicking and creaking as it was opened, he stepped out, tie loose around his neck to the point of threatening dress code. Having forgone the blazer altogether, the first two buttons were undone to allow him just enough breathing room for his collarbone to be seen without his burns be visible. Overall looking far more lax than the dress code would ever permit, his blank expression helped none as he walked over to the sink. He wasn't a fool, well aware of what people did in the school bathrooms that weren't for its intended use, but the sight of a particular blond teen popping pills had him pause. Why was he so familiar? Those gold eyes that rivaled the suns brightness themselves much dimmer than before, yet still so promising. Someone from his past long before-\n\n\"*Keigo?*\" Brows furrowed, Toya turned and faced Keigo properly, staring intensely. \"H-H-Holy *Shit.* I never thooooooooought-\" Cutting himself off, his cheeks puffed out in annoyance as he breathed out in an exasperated manner. \"I'd see you a—again.\"" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "That voice held all the power in the world over him. Though strained, deepened by the test of time, he identified it as soon as it crashed with the stagnant air; that exasperated huff when the words caught up in their throat. Touya. Touya Todoroki. Years passed; his anatomy had suffered as had his mind; In every way, he'd been bloodied and dirtied. Still, his eyes were dry to the pain, while that voice– when broken by rage, by desperation, by grief –always managed to swell up a lump in his throat and an ache behind his eyes. For a while he'd almost forgotten. For a while, everything hurt so bad that whatever was beyond the now was irrelevant. For a while, he couldn't recall that voice that had always just barely scraped past the lips. \n\nShame devoured his being. How could he ever forget? He must have been a sorry sight to behold; clammy and pale, pill popping in a public washroom.\n\nThe action was laborious and it shouldn't have been. It shouldn't have been as hard as it was to look this boy in the eyes. He whipped around, forced his focus upon the beckoning voice. It was strange, laying eyes upon them; recognizing everything and nothing all at once. Those fluffy white locks, the eyes he'd always loved more than life itself. The childish frame he'd once known had since been stretched and strained. What little light those eyes once retained was horribly absent now, as if the years had left that light to leak from the pupils, leaving only emptiness and the shadow of heavy lids. They were tired. The kind of tired that sleep wouldn't ever fix. He was tired too.\n\nHe must have been something of a failure. Hatred gnawed at his innards; the thought of leaving the other with that thought; *That they may never see each other ever again*. Keigo knew himself well enough; life or death, he'd always find his way back to his home. Back to Touya. \n\nThere was nothing to be said that was actually worth saying. There was nothing he could say to make up for all the years lost. A seconds silence before he shook his head, stepped wordlessly forward and threw his arms around the other, face nestled into their shoulder, eyes screwed tightly shut. Keeping them open a moment longer, he'd probably start to cry.\n\n\"Touya...\" He murmured, muffled against the starchy fabrics of their shirt. \"...Shit, I've missed you so much, man...\"" } ]

[ { "author": "- .MOREAU E. LUCE ) ", "message": "_ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ_｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ \nㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ﾟ。 `𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘, 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.` ๋ ׅ ೀ\n_ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ_･｡\n\n_ _ `𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐔'𝐒 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐒` going smoothly, until his phone suddenly made a notification sound during his lunch break. It was a message from his mother. He always tried to spend as much time as possible with her outside of work. However, he had to interrupt their conversation to respond to a message from someone with a rather peculiar username, \"WOLFMAN\". This mysterious individual was requesting to rent out the entire \"Corde d'âme\" Venue for the night! What made it even more intriguing was the fact that he was offering a substantial amount of money right from the start. Moreau saw this as a great opportunity to earn some extra cash, which could greatly assist in funding his mother's cancer treatment expenses. He had to go talk to his boss and explain that he gave the restaurant to a couple for the night for fifteen thousand. His boss didn't complain about the decision and expressed his satisfaction with the arrangement. After the conversation, Moreau wished his boss a good day and they hung up the phone, feeling relieved and content with the outcome of the discussion.\n\n_ _\n```𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐑𝐊```\n_ _\nIn the late evening, just before sunset, Moreau kindly assisted his mother in walking to her bedroom. With great care, he ensured her comfort by preparing a delicious grilled cheese sandwich, which he served alongside a refreshing glass of sparkling water. Meanwhile, he meticulously prepared himself for the evening ahead. Moreau selected a stylish waistcoat that perfectly complemented his physique, and paired it with a crisp white dress shirt that was left slightly unbuttoned for a touch of casual elegance. As for his lower attire, he opted for a pair of black dress pants that offered a relaxed yet sophisticated look, perfectly balanced by the addition of white sneakers. In the bathroom, he leaned in closer to the mirror, carefully applying his everyday makeup routine. He swept a rich shade of red eyeshadow across his lids, accentuating his eyes. Next, he smoothed on a layer of baked clay-colored foundation, expertly concealing the faint black spots on his cheeks. Taking extra care, he fluffed out his hair around his ears, skillfully camouflaging any imperfections. Finally, he spritzed a generous amount of his prized possession, Diors \"Hypnotic Poison\" Perfume, enveloping himself in its alluring fragrance.\n\n_ _\n```𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈 𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄.```\n_ _\nMoreau stared at himself in the mirror, carefully examining every detail of his appearance. He checked his hair, ensuring that every strand was perfectly in place. He adjusted his tie, making sure it was perfectly straight and symmetrically aligned with his collar. Satisfied with his impeccable grooming, Moreau reached for his stylish man-purse, effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder. As he walked towards the door, a sense of contentment washed over him, and he hummed a cheerful tune. This evening was promising to be a delightful experience for Moreau, and he couldn't wait to embrace it.\n\nCorde D'âme was conveniently located near his house, allowing him to easily walk there. As he entered the establishment, Moreau took a few moments to tidy up the space, ensuring a pleasant ambiance for both himself and the customers. With a quick search on Spotify, he discovered a curated playlist called \"Late Night Jazz\" That perfectly matched the atmosphere he wanted to create. The soothing melodies and soulful tunes filled the air, adding an extra touch of sophistication to Corde D'âme. Moreau was excited and anticipated as he prepared for the evening ahead. With everything in place, he was confident that this night would be a memorable the couple who stepped through those bougie doors.\n\n_ _ \n```𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄 𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬.```\n_ _\nMoreau casually walked into the kitchen and glanced around, searching for a quick snack to satisfy his cravings. Spotting a plate of delectable leftovers from the previous night's dinner service, he couldn't resist the temptation. With a mischievous grin, he perched himself on a vacant table, savoring the anticipation of indulging in a pre-meal treat. As he lifted the exquisite golden bougie fork, its elegant design adding a touch of sophistication to the moment, he couldn't help but admire the rich, velvety chocolate cake that awaited him. With a gentle, yet purposeful motion, he plunged the fork into the decadent dessert, savoring the sweet aroma that enveloped him. As the first bite of the cake melted on his tongue, he couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh. The harmonious blend of chocolatey richness and delightful sweetness danced on his taste buds, creating a truly heavenly experience that he wished would never end." }, { "author": "* @ Amarena Yeonglihan ", "message": "```𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐓, 𝐒𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐓, 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐈𝐓, 𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐓```\n\nAmarena smiled. He had no idea why he was here, or why the restaurant had absolutely no other cars or motorcycles in the parking lot. It was date night, and as always it seems his husband had decided to go all out. Not expecting to see another soul Amarena had dressed... Provocatively to say the least. Though everything was fully covered there was very little left to the imagination. The sheer robe hugging against his body and flowing down past his hips all the way to his ankles. Some delicate looking pearls around his neck and his hands adorned with the various rings Nakir had purchased for him.\n\n``𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐍, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘``\n\nThough he had brought nakir a gift of his own. A small click echoed through the parking lot as one of the compartments on his bike opened up and there sat a simple red box. He would love it, he knew he would. Gently peeking into the box the redhead softly laughed and made sure to place the tissue paper in the box perfectly. Tonight would be perfect Amarena thought, then he towards the doors of the building and walked in.\n\n``𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐈𝐓``\n\nHis red velvet heels gently clicked against the floor as he walked in. Looking around in partial amusement. Assuming they were being seated in the perfect middle of the seating area Amarena sat down at the table without a second thought. A soft shiver ran up his spine and although he knew he looked beautiful he regretted not bringing a coat. He typically was warm, not because he ran warm but because Nakir was a human heater, anytime he felt the slightest bit to freeze he'd be coddled until he was practically steaming. It felt odd not having that right then, but at the same time it made him anxious for the rest of the date. He hoped the food was good... Because if not he'd be devouring something completely different later that night.\n\n``𝐈 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍' 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐃``\n\nHis eyes scanned the restaurant, slightly amused at his husbands lateness. Then he locked onto the young man perched on a vacant table. Amarena felt himself grow slightly red. He wasn't embarrassed by people seeing his body, not in the slightest, but he had gotten all dolled up for his husband and someone else had seen him first. He could feel the eyes on him, the stare he always gets when that scar is out. It was a massive claw mark, going from just above his knee to right below his hip. With a soft sound he took the napkin and covered his leg slightly, trying to tuck the rest of it under the table. Though he couldn't help but glance back at the waiter, the man was pretty, and the outfit hugged in all the right places on that man. Fortunately before the man could notice that he was staring Amarenas attention was drawn away by the doors opening...\n\n``𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐍, 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘``" }, { "author": "+- Nakir Yeonglihan.R*:*", "message": "```𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐔𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆```\n\nNakir smiled, tonight was going to be perfect. He had taken their favorite car, made sure he had his hair styled in his husbands favorite way, and that he was wearing something that fit him in all the right places. He had his canines resharpened and against his \"Masculine\" Mind he had his nails trimmed and polished black. Making sure to duck slightly in case the doorways were just a little too short for him. His smile widened when he saw his husband and his gaze turned slightly predatory when he glanced at the waiter. He wasn't disappointed. \n\n``𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐉𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍' 𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐍``\n\nHis shoes were freshly shined and replaced, which led him to making minimal sound as he creeped up behind his husband and placed his own furry coat over the shorter males shoulders. Not even questioning when he was met by one of the dinner knives when he got right up against his husbands ear and greeted him with a simple \"*Hello Darling.*\" He felt the man shiver underneath that thick fur coat he had cocooned him in. Nakir chuckled slightly and gently kissed the nape of his husbands neck. \n\n``𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆``\n\nNakir drew away and took his seat across from Amarena. Then he waved over that pretty waiter, his hand gently placed onto his husbands thigh underneath the table, soft reassurances. Then he turned towards Moreau. His voice carrying throughout the room. \"Hello there, could I trouble you to get me and my husband the best bottle of whiskey possible? Price isn't important, just whatever you think is the best, we'll pay for the whole bottle.\" He noticed the redhead glancing at the waiter and the two of them subtly nodded towards each other. They were in agreement then. \n\n.\n\n``𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓``\n \nNakir gently drew his hand back from Amarena's thigh and placed it on the table. He was immediately greeted by his husbands manicured nails that were practically claws at this point. Amarena leaned over and whispered into Nakir's ear about \"Unfairness and punctuality\" In turn Nakir just lightly got up and cradled his husbands face within his hands. Then he softly whispered. \"Darling I know you're upset but I was just making sure your gift was ready for after our date. I understand you're desperate and if you truly want me to I'll whisk you away to one of those back booths but... I fear that would ruin our dinner, and you don't want that handsome little waiter to see you all ruined now don't we?\" He made sure to finish speaking right as Moreau returned, making sure to give Amarena a little peck as they both turned to the younger male.\n\n``𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐓~``" }, { "author": "- .MOREAU E. LUCE ) ", "message": "˚ 　 ✦ 　　　 ˚ . 　　　 ⋆ ˚ _　 　　　 _˚ . 　　\n_ _\n```𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐓, 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐖.```\n\n_ _`𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐔 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅` immersed in the sheer pleasure of savoring a slice of his favorite chocolate cake. Little did he know that this tranquil moment would soon be disrupted by an unexpected arrival - the entrance of a captivating individual who possessed unparalleled beauty. As if caught off guard by this breathtaking sight, Moreau's initial instinct was to hastily conceal his plate adorned with the remaining crumbs of his indulgence. With nimble steps, he hurriedly retreated towards the sanctuary of the kitchen, all while attempting to divert his gaze from the mesmerizing presence before him. However, despite his best efforts to maintain composure and avoid staring too intently, Moreau could not help but succumb to overwhelming admiration for this ravishing red-haired man.\n\nIn that fleeting moment as their eyes briefly connected across Corde D'âme's enchanting ambiance, time seemed to stand still for Moreau. His heart raced with anticipation as he marveled at every intricate detail: from the alluring charm emanating from those piercing eyes to the subtle curve of a flawless smile that danced upon perfectly sculpted lips. Unable to resist such allure any longer, Moreau allowed himself a stolen glance or two when he thought the other wasn't looking.\n\n_ _\n```𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔.```\n\nIn the kitchen, Moreau found himself caught in a whirlwind of emotions. As he carefully placed the plate with cake, his heart pounded against his chest, reminding him to take deep breaths to calm his nerves. It was an unusual sight for those who knew him well - a navy-blue-haired boy known for his unwavering composure suddenly displaying signs of unease. The lone chef in the kitchen rose an intrigued eyebrow at Moreau's uncharacteristic behavior. After all, this young man had always been hailed as someone impervious to anxiety or self-doubt when it came to showcasing his gastronomic creations. Yet here he stood, fidgeting with his shirt and running hands through his hair in a desperate attempt to perfect every aspect of his appearance. Moreau's fingers delicately grazed over strands of dull blue hair as he fluffed them out around his face. It served as a clever disguise for the blemishes that he might have missed while doing his makeup.\n\nAs Moreau left the kitchen and stepped into the magnificent main dining room, a presence like no other entered the restaurant. It was not just any ordinary being; it was as if a towering six-foot-seven figure of unimaginable strength and power had graced us with his presence. To call him a beast would be an understatement, for he exuded an aura that transcended mere mortal definitions. This extraordinary man seemed to embody qualities that surpassed human comprehension. He possessed an ethereal quality, akin to a deity walking amongst them. In fact, one could argue that he was Aphrodite reborn - the epitome of love, lust, beauty, pleasure, and passion personified in every inch of his tall frame. His luscious black hair cascaded down in perfect waves, framing features so captivating they could rival works of art.\n\n_ _ \n```𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄, 𝐈 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄.```\nIt is difficult to put into words the sheer magnificence radiating from this individual who stood before Moreau like an absolute deity. Every movement oozed confidence and grace; each glance sent shivers down his spine as he was captivated by his magnetic charm. Moreau felt privileged to witness such unparalleled charisma within those very walls. Shyness was unmistakably evident, a flicker of vulnerability in his deep, dark blue eyes as he cautiously approached the group. His posture exuded confidence with his back held straight, determined to make a positive impression. It was important for him to maintain composure and project an air of calmness; after all, he was at work and not in a social setting like a club or anything of that sort. He mentally encouraged himself, reminding himself to gather his thoughts and present the best version of Moreau possible.\n\nThe tall man's voice, with its smooth yet not deep tone, pierced through Moreau's thoughts as he stood there, fixated on the two deities before him. It was a voice that resonated perfectly with his preferences - reminiscent of the finest whiskey. Moreau silently mouthed a \"Oui monsieur\" In response before gracefully making his way towards the alcohol room. As he entered the room, his eyes were greeted by an array of expensive whiskeys meticulously lined up for those fortunate enough to afford them. Each bottle seemed more opulent than the last, tempting even the most discerning connoisseurs. However, it was Hanyu Ichiro's Queen of Hearts that caught Moreau's attention this time; its exquisite taste and regal name made it a fitting choice for such an esteemed couple.\n\n_ _\n```𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆```\n\nWith utmost care, Moreau reached out and delicately grasped two crystal glasses from their place amongst their counterparts. He took extra caution not to touch the rim of either glass with his fingers so as to preserve their pristine appearance and ensure an impeccable presentation when serving these divine elixirs to the illustrious pair before him.\n\nObserving them from a distance, he noticed how perfectly they complemented each other - like puzzle pieces that fit flawlessly together. Their eyes locked in an intimate gaze, seemingly lost in their own world of unspoken love and shared memories. It was a captivating sight that tugged at his heartstrings. He came back to the stunning couples table. With careful precision, he set two crystal glasses down on the pristine white tablecloth. As he poured their glasses half-full with amber liquid, a rich and enticing aroma wafted through the air. Although hesitant to interrupt such an enchanting moment between them, duty called him forward. He approached cautiously yet respectfully, not wanting to disturb the fragile bubble they had created around themselves.\n\nWith gentle sincerity lacing his soft low voice, he asked gently, as if his tone was walking on eggshells: \"Would you like your whiskey on the rocks?\"" }, { "author": "+- Nakir Yeonglihan.R*:*", "message": "``𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆``\n\nNakir grinned, his sharp canines flashing. He turned slightly towards Amarena and raised an eye brow before shifting his gaze back towards Moreau. \"I would love mine to be on the rocks, my husband will have his on the rocks as well. While you're here could we trouble you to sit down and go through the full course list for us? We'd like to try a bit of everything. No allergies, fortunately, but I am not particularly fond of chocolate. So a review of everything would be absolutely splendid.\" \n\n``𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐈``\n\nNakir lightly tapped his nails against the table. His gaze never leaving Moreaus form. Then he lifted his hand up and undid his tie just slightly, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his muscled and toned arms. Nakir gently grasped the glass and brought it up to his lips, taking a small sip of the amber liquid. Then he hummed appreciatively and turned towards the red head that sat right across from him. They locked eyes for a moment before the taller man took the glass, gently grabbed his husbands jaw and poured some into his mouth. All the while gazing at Moreau. Some of it spilled and once he was finished Nakir made sure it didn't get onto his beloveds clothes. \"So... About that review?\" \n\n.\n\n``𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐆 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆``\n\nHe felt a sharp nail digging itself into his thigh. Not a warning but a nervous little thing Amarena tended to do. As a reassurance Nakir squeezed right back, now lazily sipping on the whiskey. It had been months that they'd been trying to find someone. Not anything to satiate their... Carnal desires, but something, someone that would soothe the ache that had started to infest their hearts. Then Nakir had spotted Moreau, he was attractive, and Amarena had even claimed that the younger man looked enchanting. So they had some of their underlings look into Moreaus life. Nothing nefarious was going on and so their plan was set. If all went well? They would be having a very interesting night with Moreau.\n\n``𝐎𝐇, 𝐎𝐇, 𝐎𝐇~``" }, { "author": "* @ Amarena Yeonglihan ", "message": "``𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ``\n\nAmarena was nervous. Yes he was entirely confident in their marriage, but when it came to dating? He had no clue. What if Moreau didn't like his personality? What would he do then? Amarena wanted to make Nakir happy, to try it out even if he was nervous about it. Not about having someone be their partner. No, not at all, but at the prospect of Nakir taking charge of things. It was nice to not have to carry everything but it made him feel vulnerable. Amarena couldn't hide behind that veil of confidence he usually spent hiding within. \n\n``𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐘 𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐃``\n\nNakir snapped Amarena right out of his thoughts as he felt his jaw being gently grabbed and that burning amber liquid being poured into his mouth. He sputtered for a moment but quickly recovered, the whiskey pleasantly burning as it made its way down his throat. The liquid spilled down his mouth and rolled down his chin. Then he felt those strong hands wipe away the liquid. Unfortunately... Amarena was a lightweight. A single glass of a strong liquor would get him drunk faster than a college student at a frat party. \n\n``𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇, 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐑``\n\nAmarena took a small glance towards Moreau. His face now lightly flushed red. A giggle bubbled up and escaped Amarenas mouth. \"Those little spots on your face are so... Cute! You look like a little lizard! I love lizards! Or is it like a puppy? Puppy's are cuteeee, I miss my puppies. You know Nakir is like a puppy? He begs me to-\"\n\n_ _ \n\n``𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏 𝐔𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓``\n\nA hand clasped over his mouth and his drunken ramblings were quickly shut off. The red head giggled and attempted to open his mouth to bite the hand clasped around his mouth. Unfortunately Nakirs grip was just a little too strong, and he was unable to open his mouth. Eventually Nakir let go, leaving a giggling Amarena sitting in his chair and incredibly antsy. In any other non mafia related situation the red head would hide behind his husband and be docile, but when alcohol got into his system Amarena became... Bold. Without a shred of shame Amarena got up, pulled out a chair and gently pushed Moreau to sit down. Leaning over the younger male and semi-sitting on the man's lap. Cuddling onto him while drunkenly giggling, pressing his chest gently up against Moreau's face. \"You're kinda cute Moreau! You should come over to our house! I have some good and strong alcohol, but I am kinda hungry... Can you cook? You're so handsome I could almost eat you up!\"\n\n``𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈'𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔``" }, { "author": "@ _MOREAULUCE", "message": "`❝ 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄. ❞ 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐔` responded with a quick nod. He swiftly made his way towards the ice cooler area in the dimly lit bar, where he carefully retrieved two perfectly formed circular ice cubes. Placing them delicately on a gleaming silver tray, he carried them over to their whiskey glasses, ensuring not to spill even a drop of the precious liquid. Although Moreau prided himself on being attentive and efficient in his work, he hadn't yet committed every detail of the menu to memory. As he stood there beside the table, watching intently as the deity reached out for his partner's jaw and poured the now chilled whiskey into their awaiting mouth, an overwhelming feeling washed over Moreau. In that momentary lapse of concentration, his mind went blank as if all thoughts had been momentarily erased. The scene unfolding before him seemed almost surreal - a convergence of divine intervention in this small corner of reality.\n\nThank goodness for the conveniently placed menu right in front of them, resting elegantly on the polished table. With a sense of relief, Moreau swiftly reached out and gently grasped it, his fingers tracing over the smooth surface as he marveled at its intricate design. As his eyes scanned the extensive list of delectable dishes. Glancing discreetly toward the incredibly attractive couple sat engrossed in each other's company, Moreau quickly redirected his attention back to the menu before him. He cleared his throat softly to regain composure and began reading aloud from the tantalizing selection of culinary delights.\n_ _\n\n_ _\nHe carefully enunciated each dish's description, Moreau's diligent efforts were evident as he meticulously avoided mentioning any desserts that boasted rich layers of velvety chocolate or decadent cocoa creations. Aware of his own weakness for such indulgences, he silently vowed to resist temptation and maintain control over his cravings.\n\nThere was an undeniable allure in the way the couple's eyes fixated on him, radiating a sense of desire that seemed to transcend mere attraction. It was as if they hungered for Moreau with a fervor that bordered on primal instinct, their gazes filled with an unspoken longing that hinted at a deeper connection. The intensity of their stares held a magnetic pull, drawing him into their world where pleasure and passion intertwined seamlessly. Their shared gaze spoke volumes, conveying an insatiable appetite for Moreau's presence in ways both carnal and profound.\n\n\"For– For appetizers, there's, uhm, pan-seared scallo–\" Cut off by the red-haired deity, his words faltered as he blushed, feeling a sudden warmth rush to his cheeks. He glanced down at his own thighs. Was the red-haired deity teasing him playfully or making a serious point? The uncertainty clouded Moreau's thoughts, especially considering that the man in question seemed to be quite intoxicated. However, amidst this confusion and self-consciousness, Moreau found himself softly chuckling when he noticed the much bigger man stepping in to prevent his husband from saying anything further. While still slightly perplexed by the red-haired deity's actions and intentions, Moreau appreciated this intervention. It brought a sense of relief and allowed him to momentarily brush aside any lingering doubts or insecurities that may have arisen during their exchange.\n\n_ _\nThe deity with a darker complexion stood helplessly as the red-haired one confidently pulled out a chair, graciously offering Moreau a seat. Overwhelmed by the gesture, Moreau anxiously gripped onto the menu tightly. As if adding to his already racing heart rate, the deity then casually positioned himself in a semi-seated position on Moreau's lap, causing his mouth to instantly feel parched and his mind to go blank. Again. Of course, he was thoroughly enjoying this particular moment. However, it was important to remember that he had a job to do and needed to maintain his professionalism. Despite the internal conflict between pleasure and duty, there was no denying the attractiveness of both individuals involved in the situation. His hand quivered ever so slightly as he cautiously placed it on the shoulder of the captivating redhead before him. \n\n\"I– cute? I– Yes, I–I can cook.\" The Frenchman paused, his mind racing with a mix of surprise and curiosity. The suggestion to \"Eat him\" Had caught him off guard, his blush deepened even further, if that was humanly possible. In an attempt to regain composure and divert attention from the awkwardness of the moment, he found himself instinctively averting his gaze downwards towards his own thighs and those belonging to Amarena atop his. As he looked down at their intertwined limbs, it became clear that this unexpected proposition had taken an unexpectedly sensual turn. The Frenchman's heart pounded in his chest as he grappled with conflicting emotions – part excitement, part apprehension. He couldn't deny the allure of exploring this uncharted territory with Amarena; however, personal reservations held him back from fully embracing such explicit desires.\n\nYet despite these reservations, a spark ignited within him – one that whispered tantalizing promises of pleasure beyond imagination. It was both thrilling and terrifying all at once.\n\n||" }, { "author": "+- Nakir Yeonglihan.R*:*", "message": "Nakir smiled softly, he knew the alcohol would easily get his husband drunk. Did he expect what followed? Hell no, but he wasn't complaining. The two of them were truly a sight, he wished to join them. So he did. With a small huff he got up and pressed up right against the younger man's back. Leaning over and whispering into Moreau's ear. His voice husky and smooth.\n\n\"You can reach out if you'd like, take your hands, hold his hips. Or... If you'd prefer I can replace him, or you can have both of us at your mercy. You're supposed to serve your customers right? Try to execute every little request we have. Come on, give in to the *Temptations*\"\n\nNakir finished his little whispered speech by placing his arms around Moreau's shoulders and slightly pulling Amarena closer. The soft giggles that the redhead made were the only sounds the three of them made. With the silence encompassing the three Nakir took the time to gently press his face into the crook of Moreau's neck. Taking in the rich chocolate scent that Moreau had. His gentle grip tightened just slightly. His painted nails digging in just a tiny bit. \n\nNakir softly murmured. \"Mm, I hate chocolate, but you smell so heavenly I could just take a bite out of you.\" He removed himself from the crook of Moreau's neck but kept his grip. Leaning over just a touch more his hair fell slightly. The intoxicating scent from the products Amarena had gently kneaded and combed into his hair that smelled of mangos, pomegranates and honey. His eyes holding that same desire with the exception that this time it was even more prominent.\n\n\"Come on little waiter. Don't you wanna sin with us. We don't wish to have you for one fleeting night, we'd like you for days, months, take our time as if you are Chronos himself. Allow us to indulge you in our wealth, our care, let us show you our sincerity towards you. How willing both of us are to give up our entire beings to you. Will you allow us to do that? Oh sweet faced, gentle tempered Angel?\"" }, { "author": "* @ Amarena Yeonglihan ", "message": "Amarena was dazed, the alcohol had clouded his mind but the figure in front of him was still clear. He let out a few small giggles here and there has he was pressed even closer to Moreau. His mascara slightly smudged and damp from his tearful fits of laughter. In all honesty it made him look slightly more ethereal, like a deity tearfully longing for something from the mortal realm. It just so happened that Moreau was that something. \n\nLeaning in onto Moreau's right shoulder, directly opposing Nakir smelling softly of cherries and hibiscus. His red lips softly nipping at the neck of the younger man. Leaving lip marks all over Moreau's neck. Listening to the soft voice of his husband he smiled and leaned in to say his own two cents. \n\n\"You really are like an angel you know? You showed up and I was blown away by your sheer beauty. Truly, please take our time, consume me if you wish. Without his fancy words it means we're not desiring some one night stand and to leave you alone. We wish to know you, learn about what you like and dislike. Those kind of things.\"\n\nAmarena shivered slightly, he had tossed aside the fur lined coat that Nakir had so kindly draped over his body in his drunken daze. Fortunately his body slowly started to warm with Nakir pressed so closely heat was sure to follow. Humming a sweet tune as he continued to softly press his face into Moreau's neck, only occasionally glancing up and the younger man to place a kiss on his jawline. \n\n\"I wouldn't say he's an Angel Nakir! He's more of an Incubus, arriving with no explanation only to steal our hearts and our minds. That's what he is, though I could totally see him wearing a sweet little Angel costume for us.\"\n\nAmarena giggled, the effects of the alcohol now slowly wearing off. His hair slightly messy but still looking as sleek and perfect as when he came in. The lights creating a shadow that illuminated his dazed and darkened eyes. \"Wont you be sweet for us?\"" } ]

[ { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "Again, he found himself stuck on the impossible question of why exactly he'd allowed this to happen. The internship was one thing, but this? There was no benefit here, no pay. Sure, the meal was covered and probably going to be the most exquisite (and expensive) meal he'd ever indulged in. But precious time was wasting away, his patience alongside it. Time is irreplaceable, meals, on the other hand, are not.\n\nHakamda promised him a suit and some unfortunately much needed assistance in tying a necktie. That meant all he really needed to do was fix his hair, wash his face and dart for the door. Readying himself, the thought swelled up in his mind like a bad bruise; was he good enough for all this? He always knew he was the fucking shit, that wasn't anything new, but this was for the higher class and he wasn't much of a high class citizen. At least he could blend in. Clothing was amazing like that; dress a certain way, everyone who lays eyes upon you will assume your class, your personality. People are summarized by what they wear, how they do their hair, how they pat on their makeup. It's painfully shallow, but that's just how the world has always turned since the dawn of time. \n\nDiving headfirst into an internship at Hakamada's agency, he'd rediscovered a few fossils of his past; passions, memories, old feelings. He'd forgotten how badly he used to crave this– to live out a life just like this, rubbing elbows with the best of the best, being recognized, pursuing something that feels good and right to pursue. In a way, he'd been indebted to Hakamada the very moment the man had reached out to him.\n\nTime slipped through his fingers like granules of sand. A generous thirty minutes to spare so rapidly diminished to nothing as he lost himself in thought, glaring down at his phone screen in some poor effort to pretend he's not overthinking this as much as he actually is. Out the door, down the hall, out another door, and across to the parking lot. Hakamada was already there because of fucking course he was; fancy car, classical music, irritating suit and all. Katsuki scoffed to himself, poorly repressing the smallest smile as he swung open the passenger side door and climbed into his seat. \n\n\"You're always crazy early. Do you have the suit?\"" }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "Tsunagu put way too much effort into this tuxedo. A two piece that was easily converted into a three piece with the extra vest he couldn't help but add in. It looked like a classical tuxedo, black as pitch on the outside, on the inside he had used his favorite fabric, one that most didn't really enjoy. It was entirely made up out of different shades of orange that blended together spectacularly, the dress shirt wasn't a blinding white and instead was more off white with an orange undertone. The cuff links had Tsunagu's custom made insignia on them. It was perfect.\n\nHe ironed out all possible wrinkles, gently folded it and placed it gently in one of his brands boxes. Now that the suit for his little protégée was finished Tsunagu had to renew his own. His suit was a dark blue, the inside being a fabric of which he had personally designed. His own brand logo scattered across it with a few other symbols, fabric shears, mannequins, even some of those flimsy measuring tapes. It was an older design, even including a watch pocket. He donned it and stared in the mirror, making sure to properly secure his tie, placing his monogrammed tie bar to secure his tie to the dress shirt he was finished. Tsunagu took one last moment to slick his hair with a little gel to its usual position before picking up the box and walking down to his car. \n\nThe drive wasn't too long, he turned the music up so that it wasn't blasting but could be heard if you were within 30 feet of it. The moment the door swing open he had to repress his smile. So the young man *Could* At least make himself look presentable. Katsuki's words make Tsunagu softly laugh. \n\n\"I'm not early, I'm right on time.\" The taller blonde spoke as he reached into the back seat and placed the large box from the backseat into Katsuki's lap. \"There is the suit. Please do not ruin it, if you need it to be cleaned bring it into the office and I will have it professionally washed and steamed.\"\n\n_ _ \nTsunagu tapped the screen on the dashboard. The directions to the restaurant appeared upon it. The placed the car in drive and they were off, not at an insane pace like last time but they were at a comfortable speed. Without looking back at the teen he spoke again. \"I can stop at the agency and you can change there or I can activate the heavy tint in the car and you can change in the parking lot. I'm assuming you'd prefer to change in the agency? It's much more spacious in there." }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "It was still the biggest mystery to him; what wonderful thing he must have done for this man to deserve all this special treatment. He eyed the box in his lap, lifted the lid. His eyes drank in the sight of rich fabrics, velvet black, an interior of warmly melted shades of orange. With an uncaring shrug, he tugged at his T-Shirt and tossed it into the back seat just as Hakamada pressed his foot to the gas pedal.\n\n\"Right on time is early. Ever heard of fashionably late?\" He wryly spat in response. \"Just activate the tint, I'll change in here. I'm not about to hold us up for time.\"\n\nHe reached first for the off white dress shirt resting, perfectly folded in that box; not a single wrinkle or flaw. It was a thing of fucking beauty. He started himself on the process of buttoning it up, soon reaching into the box again to partner it with the vest, then the blazer. Thick fabrics, suffocating layers. Driving with Hakamada at the wheel was terrifying enough on its own. The man was unhinged; speeding, swerving, slamming down on the brakes so hard the contents of the back seat would come flying forward. Changing without hanging on to something for dear life turned out to be quite the feat; every sudden turn had him jostled in one direction or another as he struggled out of a pair of sweats and tugged on black straight legs through a series of squirmed maneuvers. \n\nBy the time they'd reached the parking lot, he was dressed but disheveled as ever. His hair was a mess, he'd struggled enough to work up a mild sweat. One final look into the box, he rolled his eyes, shook his head. \n\n\"I'm not wearing the goddamn bow tie.\"" }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "The moment they parked Tsunagu unbuckled his seatbelt and turned towards the young man. Pulling out the bow tie from the box he undid it and held it out. Truthfully he felt bow ties were inferior to the sleek design of a tie but unfortunately Tsunagu knew his protege would despise it. He clicked on the window tint and pulled out a few hair products and a comb.\n\n\"Come here, let me fix your appearance, honestly, we could've just taken a detour to the agency and I would've moved our reservation up. You will be wearing the bow tie or you will not be allowed in. I'm quite sure you'd prefer having a nice dinner in a restaurant than having to wait until I'm finished eating for me to bring you the food.\"\n\nTsunagu reached out and lifted up the collar of the dress shirt, making sure to carefully slide the bow tie underneath it and make sure it was secure. Then he calmly tied it and once it was done fluffed it slightly so it looked pristine. Then he fixed Katsukis blazer and made sure everything was in order. \n\n\"There, now hold still while I fix your hair. No this will not be like...*The incident*. Instead I'm going to use some products to make sure those unruly split ends of yours do not end up getting into the food. Please stay still, I only have a few moments.\"\n\nThe taller blonde sighed and went to work. Using a bit of leave in conditioner to smooth down and bring back moisture to Katsuki's hair. Then he used the comb to separate the sections of his hair so he could apply some oil directly to his scalp. Finally he took the comb yet again and styled it, fighting the increasingly growing urge to gel down Katsuki's hair he finished. Looking at the young man with a slightly satisfied smile Tsunagu turned off the car and stepped out. Turning back to his intern with a slight chuckle. \n\n\"We are fashionably late, and one can never be fashionably late without the aspect of being fashionable. Now hurry up, and please do not start a commotion, the owners already are wary of me.\"" }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "\"What? Wary of you? Why in the fuck...-\"\n\nHe trailed and accepted defeat on the matter before he was met with a response. God, this felt weird. His hair probably looked dumb, *He* Probably looked dumb. Bow ties— ties in general really weren't his thing. If it wasn't an entry necessity here, he would have never bothered. Leave the dumb little bow to sit alone in its designated fancy ass box. \n\nHe'd hurried slightly ahead of Hakamada, who was still just getting out of the car. Across the parking lot, he paused at the front entrance, guarded by a man dressed like a million bucks; all black suit, accessorized with a red tie. Darks shades rested against his nose bridge, concealing a clearly judgemental gaze. Katsuki anxiously fidgeted with the stiff fabrics on the cuff of his right sleeve. He was already anticipating the moment he could take this all off and remember how it feels to breathe again.\n\nThe man eyed him, he eyed the man in turn, unwavering glares until Hakamada had approached by his side." }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "Tsunagu smiled and fully got out of the car now. Making sure to pocket the keys and lock it. Stepping right next to Katsuki and turning to the greeter with a scowl. He hated these kinds of people, but the food was truly delicious. Fixing his blazer and hair one last time he spoke. \n\n\"Move, I have a reservation and you are going to make me miss it, and I am sure that the owners would prefer me to not cause a scene like last time someone attempted to look down on me?\" \n\nThe greeter flinched but ultimately opened the door and allowed the two of them in. Hakamada simply had to say his name to the hostess and she was already guiding them to their table. It was fairly secluded from others and Tsunagu finally felt at ease. Having his face out and in the open in a restaurant was much different compared to galas. \n\n\"I'll be having the 16 ounce wagyu, an 8 oz salmon, with the mashed potatos, and a bowl of the gnocchi soup. Oh, with a mango lemonade.\" \n\nIt was the same order, as always. He had no hesitation in ordering and then handing his menu to the server. Tsunagu was now fully at ease once the waiter had taken Katsuki's order and rushed off. Chuckling slightly he turned towards Katsuki and spoke yet again. \n\n\"They're wary of me because last time they attempted to kick out one of my interns for her protective hairstyle. So I ended up breaking three tables and having our meal comped with no charges pressed against me.\"" }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "This feeling; this sense of pride simply to stand beside this guy, be associated with him. It felt just as good as it did weird– he hadn't felt such a thing for anyone ever in his life before. Not mom, not dad– and they had accomplished plenty in their own right too. Still, he wasn't proud to share their blood, nor their last name. \n\nHe made his order and it was stupidly simple when contrasted with the demands of the man across from him. He nodded the waiter away when he was done.\n\n\"I'll have a... Uh- the gnocchi soup too. That and water.\"\n\nHe briefly eyed the place; candlelit tables, crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling, combating the darkness of dusk. Beautifully detailed satin tablecloths, cushiony upholstered chairs. Quiet jazz in the background. This was lovely, he sure as shit didn't belong here though. Fidgeting his index and thumb together, rubbing at the thick dark fabrics of his blazer, he turned focus back to Hakamada. \n\n\"Huh. Y'know, of all the different scenarios I'd thought up when you told me they were wary of you here, that was the answer I was least expecting.\" He snickered his words, a small smile tugging gently at the corners of his mouth. \"I assumed you'd thrown a fit over nothing.\"" }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "Hakamada smiled softly. He knew the younger man was nervous, that was insanely clear. Sipping on his mango lemonade he leaned back. His eyes scamming the people at other tables who were so engrossed in their own conversations acting as if no one else existed. \n\n\"Don't worry, you'll get used to it eventually. It was a hard transition period for me. I wasn't always the wealthiest you know? Over time it'll be easier to relax. Now, are any of your teachers giving you trouble for the attendance? Adult drama is always so boring,\"\n\nTsunagu sighed as their food was sat down before them. Gently taking the napkin and placing it on top of his lap and gently grasping the proper silverware. He easily cut both the salmon and the steak in half. Deciding to savor the taste of the soup instead of diving straight into the proteins. \n\n\"I only make fits at reasonable times. It's just a nice perk that now whenever I make a reservation it immediately gets granted and I get treated with the best service.\"\n\nTaking a small sip of the soup Tsunagu grinned. Other things he cared not for, but the soup always reminded him of his mothers soup. It always warmed his soul and fended off his worries. Looking up at Bakugo he asked yet another question. \n\n\"How do you feel the internship is going? Personally I believe you are doing fairly well for a first time intern, but I'd like to learn of it from your own perspective.\"" }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "How *Was* The internship going? Well, it was a nice escape from school, from family, from shit all, really. He had yet to really step aside from the rush of day-to-day life to actually consider how things were going though; how he felt about it. Most of the time, it didn't really matter how he felt about this sort of shit; it would happen regardless. Agencies are pushy like that. People are pushy like that.\n\nThe question almost unnerved him. There was probably a right answer to this; say that's it's lovely, a blessing, perfect, glitter, and rainbows, and frolicking unicorns and shit.\n\nAlmost boredly, he poked and prodded at the steaming bowl of soup set delicately before him. Its scent wafted, delighted his senses. God, it smelled like heaven.\n\n\"I donno...\" He mumbled, head down, probably the wrong answer. \"...I mean, it's beneficial. It's good.\" Good in all the ways it was supposed to be good. \"...The food looks great.\" How the hell was he supposed to say it? He was the problem here, not Hakamada, not anyone else. This chronic unease, this dissatisfaction; this feeling, this hollow pit in his chest– it was his and his only to deal with. It was no one else's business to know or worry. Being exposed again to this vast world had taken its toll. He longed to dive headfirst just as much as he feared the ache that would follow. It was all confusing and dumb. Really fucking dumb. Anyone with half a brain would love to be in the position he is now; steps away from walking that runway, cameras flashing, praises screamed simply for breathing.\n\nHe started silently on his dish." }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "Tsunagu took in Katsuki's expression. The apprehension, the sense that there was something more to be said unnerved Hakamada, maybe because he had too been placed into this position, except facing a much less open person. The sliced at his stake and took a generous bite from it. Taking a few moments to absorb the sounds of the restaurant, people chattering quietly, plates being set down on white tablecloths, the soft clanking of metal on ceramic dishes. It all helped slightly soothe his nerves. Then he spoke. \n\n\"You know your prerecorded response does nothing for me right? If I expected dishonesty I wouldn't have picked you. I hate people who sugarcoat things. As much as I am your boss you shouldn't feel afraid to tell me about what you truly are thinking.\" \n\nWith that Tsunagu took another bite of his steak. Then he had some of the salmon, humming pleasantly at the spices that adorned it. Taking his time between every single one of his bites to make sure he could savor the flavors. Once he was done he ordered himself another mango lemonade, still contentedly finishing his first. Once he had finished he pulled his tie loose and gently folded it up, placing it in his pocket. Waving off the waiters raised eyebrows with a single harsh hand movement. \n\n\"Truthfully I had begun to even consider closing Jeanist Industries. Everything had begun to be so dull. Rinse and repeat. Then I had learned of you, every year I take in *Someone* From UA into Jeanist Inc as an intern. None of the third years appeased me, but your attitude drew me towards you. I like workers who are brash and unforgiving. For fashion is something you should never just allow to be trampled over. One must stand strong, and incredibly stubborn in their advances to make it. I couldn't help but see a bit of me in you.\"\n\nLuckily his rambling was quickly stopped as he was served his lemonade, and then was drawn into a heated conversation with the waiter about his tie. Until ultimately the waiter gave up." } ]

[ { "author": "flowerscourtier", "message": "Just gonna borrow this for a second\n\nYeah yeah hush we're getting a real chat in the morning" }, { "author": "amai osome || watercolor eyes", "message": "Oftentimes, she'll be here until ungodly hours in the morning to help start up the main house for the day, even if she's busy. She feels bad if she doesn't help, so it's an easy enough choice to make to hang back for around forty minutes every morning to finish up the teardown for herself and help with setup and delivery for the day. It's not like it's hard to take the time.\n\n`` 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒶𝓇𝓀 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓁𝓈,\n 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒸𝑜𝓁𝑜𝓇 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈\n 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒷𝒶𝓇𝑒𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓉𝑒𝑒𝓉𝒽 𝒾𝓃 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓈𝓂𝒾𝓁𝑒``\n\nAs she gently folds over the puff pastry dough for the last time and prays with whatever gods there are in the universe that it *Doesn't* Crinkle in the blast chiller, she quickly cater wraps it and sets it on the highest shelf with one of her labeled stickers. Chef isn't stingy about how she labels her items as long as they're all correct, but she likes to be extra sure, so they all have different constellations on them per day of the week.\n\n`` 𝒮𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔, \n 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝒽𝑒𝒶𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝑒\n 𝒲𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝒶 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒𝓇 𝒷𝓇𝒶𝒾𝒹𝓈 𝓂𝓎 𝒽𝒶𝒾𝓇 𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝑜𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓉``\n\nAmai flicks through her playlist for a minute before sighing and kicking the door to the back alley open, frowning at the stray cat that's taken to hiding under their porch step. The small white feline hasn't exactly made himself known to the other staff, and has been sneakily worming his way into her heart. She hasn't had the guts to tell Chef about him, knowing full well the little guy will get evicted the instant he's discovered.\n\n``𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒹𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓂𝓈 𝓌𝑒 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓉𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒶𝓉 𝓈𝓃𝒶𝓀𝑒𝓈\n 𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝓁𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓌𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝓈𝓁𝑒𝑒𝓅, 𝐼 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓈𝓊𝓇𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝒶𝓌𝒶𝓀𝑒``\n\nShe gives in and runs a hand down the cat's spine, feeling the small bumps of his spine with a sad smile. She's been feeding him what she can without being too obvious about it, scraps that never would have made it to service or things she snags from her apartment. Amai doesn't exactly have the free time to care for a pet, or she would take him in herself; she's just a hairs breadth from trying it anyway, to give the little guy a home." }, { "author": "onyxcrystal", "message": "Youll get a response tomorrow" }, { "author": "flowerscourtier", "message": "Mmk lmk what u think in dms" }, { "author": "Hiiks Tsgl", "message": "```They say such a shame I turned out this way...```\n\nHimiko sighed, pushing the door of the restaurant open as she carefully slipped her phone into her back pocket. She might cancel her own stream tonight. Well, that almost depended on how well this went, right? Maybe she could just hang out here for a while. That would be nice, actually. She needed a break every once in a while. Having a break here actually sounded perfect, especially since her favorite person worked here. \n\n```A MANIAC```\n\nDid she know her? Not... Really. Well, she knew of her. Himiko had left notes and tips and whatever else she could think of as a way to interact while she got up the courage to actually speak with her. Obviously, this was not in a creepy way. She knew not to push things, so, she waited until she got a response of some kind to continue. She would stop whenever she told her to, but right now, she couldn't set her eyes on anyone else. \n\n````Well, yeah I go manic when I cause a panic!```\n\nSo, the blonde made her way to her usual spot, giving the woman a description of her during her last visit. She was excited. Hell, who wouldn't be? In all honesty, she was sure she had seen her before, but she liked surprising people. It was something she actually loved. Hopefully, she loved it too. God, her face was already bright pink even thinking about talking to her. What could go wrong, anyway?" } ]

[ { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "A dark alley. The walls are hardly separated, so close it feels as though they're just barely waiting to crush him. Sounds echo; he can't determine the sources. His features are overshadowed by the heavy cloak of nightfall; the off white of his eyes gleamed in contrast. People are naive; because the average person wouldn't take the life of another, they assume everyone else in the world will kindly reward them with the same treatment. Steps ahead of him, this man had yet to catch on. He trailed closely and quietly behind. People are liars too; this does get easier. It's become second nature now. \n\nA few minutes is all it takes to step outside of himself, lunge forward and grab this man by the hood of his coat, slam him to the ground.\n\nA few minutes is all it takes to rob. Muffle the screams. No one will hear, no one will know. Silently wince as teeth clamp down on the fingers he'd used to choke out the responding cries. Liquid red rolls down from the pinprick punctures. \n\nA few minutes is all it takes to lose it all, pull the blade from his pocket. The man grasps, begs breathlessly and pitifully for mercy. Take him by the hair, smash the back of his skull to the concrete. Bloody mangled stands come loose between the fingers. Reach for the blade again. They're no longer begging. They know now that it's pointless.\n\nA few minutes; a sense of humanity drifts. Take the blade, grip the handle. It's supposed to be quick. Cut the throat, bleed, and be done.\n\nA fleeting second; the bastard's face doesn't belong to him any longer. The eyes of a killer, the eyes of his father, the eyes that had followed him all his life. He deserved to bleed. Painfully.\n\nA few minutes; become a monster, become unfamiliar, become something, then nothing, then everything, then nothing again. All consuming cycle. Adrenaline makes him strong. The blade penetrates the skin and it's like cutting through air. It's easy. It's easy enough to do again, and again, and again. Wretched sounds; meat, liquids, the disrupting force of cold metal, and ragged huffs. A few retches from the man, instinctively reaching to clutch at his massacred abdomen. His muscles are nearly vibrating as they twitch and spasm. Hopelessly shush their struggles, grab them by the chin, tilt the head back, cut finally into the throat, hesitantly release the soul, leave it to sink into the depths of hell below. \n\nKeigo removes his weight from the crimson stained mound of flesh and muscle. He panted as he parted and was left to the cold, left to the shame, and the guilt, and the unbearable nausea. It would pass. It always did. His head spun, his lungs fought for their fill of air. Everything was red. Every sound pierced his eardrums. The weight of liquid red to soak his anatomy left his skin to tingle, pins and needles, tiny beasts nipping at his nerves. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, soon stained with fingerprints of red as he rang up one of his most recent contacts, an almost immediate answer.\n\n\"My location is on. Come to me. Have this cleaned.\"\n\nAll the years, all the trash he'd taken out. It sickened him, how untouchable he was. The most shallow sense of protection; a gamble he'd made, too young to know better.\n\n*\"What are you?*\n\n*\"Keigo Takam-\"*\n\n*\"I'm not asking who you are... What are you?\"*\n\n*\"I'm uh...-\"*\n\n*\"Wrong. What you are is scum. Just like your father. Just like your whore mother. Now say it.\"*\n\n*\"I don't wanna...\"*\n\n*He wore a ring, the instructor. He must have been married. When he was angry, he'd hit. The metal of that ring would always tear into the skin.*\n\n*\"WHAT ARE YOU?!\"*\n\n*\"I'm– I'm scum, sir...\"*\n\n*\"LOUDER.\"*\n\n*\"I'm scum! Just like my ma' and dad!\"*\n\n*\"That's right. You're nothing. You came from nothing, you'll stay nothing. Keigo..., what am I ever gonna do with you?\"*\n\n*Bleeding cheek. Fingers through the hair, a smile; pain, then the warmth of touch. The touch he craved.*\n\n*\"...You're gonna make me better... Fix me...\"*\n\n*\"Good.\"*\n\nHe didn't feel fixed. Not at all. The drive back was quiet, long. He'd wasted away a good thirty minutes to track the man, now a corpse, across the city. He turned the volume dial, flooded the silence with idle noise, the radio. Sometimes the stories weren't half bad, most of the time though, it was nothing but substance for the empty silence. \n\n\n*\"...Let's get real for a second here, we need to talk about Enji Todoroki...\"\n\n\"Fucks sake, let it die...\" Keigo groaned. The bastard thrived on the publicity, why feed into it? \n\n*\"...Touya, you remember him from last episode, right? He dropped a bombshell on us all. He exposed what he and his siblings endured under Enji Todoroki's roof and...\"*\n\nJerk the wheel, far side of the road, a hard slam to the brakes, the pained squeal of his tires. \n\n\"Touya...\"\n\n*\"...Confirmed that Enji Todoroki has been charged and arrested for his appalling crimes against...\"*\n\nA murmured gasp. \"No...\" His hands were still blood soaked as he frantically tapped away at his phone, called the dreaded subject of that man's ramblings. No response. Call again. Nothing. Second time, third, fourth, fifth. Eventually, he lost count; calls, texts, voicemails. If he had a penny for every attempt, he would probably be rich by now. Stumble from the car. The city lights glow all around him, illuminate his pores, illuminate the glisten of red caked onto his skin. His knees wobbled, trembled, gave out beneath him as he looked up, laid his eyes upon hell; crying children, a screaming man, a familiar scene he'd stood witness to many times before as a friend, as *Family*. All this; a secret. Toya didn't tell, but now the whole world knew; the stench of that family's dirty laundry left to air throughout this city, radio, news, the billboards. This was Touya's purpose; nothing more, just this. Enji was apprehended. What was left? Keigo wasn't naive, anything but. He knew well enough that the man wouldn't live for love, for friendship, for goals that weren't rooted in fiery spite. This was it; he did it. He did what he lived to do. \n\n*...Reflection...*\n\n*...Everything...*\n\nA vision of blood. A vision of a corpse. A vision of betrayal and loneliness. A vision of Toya. All these years, that last piece to the dreaded puzzle.\n\nHis eyes were set alight, he was swallowing daggers. His lungs were vacuumed empty of air, his blood ran in his veins like glacier ice. Back in the car. All he could see was tears. All he could hear was shrill ringing, endless. Blink for a minute, endure the moment of impact, the agony of collision. A crushing force. Frantically blinking lights, honking car horns, the searing pain of the broken glass that had ripped through his clothing, shredded up his arms, his face, his chest. \n\nRinging, then mumbling, then sound. \"...Sir-!! Sir, can you hear me?! I'm gonna call you an ambulance, hang in there, okay?!\"\n\n\"Ngh...\" He was close enough. Five minutes, maybe two if he ran. \"Don't...\"\n\n\"Sir...?\"\n\n\"Put the phone down...\" By the wrist, he grabbed her as she raised her cell phone to her ear. \"...Please.\"\n\n\"You're bleeding- you're covered in blood...!! I have to call help, this isn't-\"\n\n\"...I have to go.\"\n\nHis head spun. His vision flooded with pinprick darkness as he stumbled from the mild wreckage of his vehicle. He wasn't speeding, nor was the other vehicle in the collision. He'd be okay and so would they. The woman called out. He had nothing to say in turn, no energy to spare, nothing to give. His body burned, dripped of salty sweat that bitterly stung at his wounds; vinegar and barbed wire. Every step was strenuous and the physical was only the tip of the iceberg. The walk back was all too long; a battle to hold all these shattered pieces together, as he crumbled with every step.\n\nSlam the door. The room is warm, but empty. Always empty. It was less empty when Touya was in it. The paint is always peeling. It always smells like mold. He still hadn't discarded those empty cans of liquor. The door is closed, it's okay to cry now.\n\nAs long as it's quiet.\n\nAs long as it's composed.\n\nDon't let the fucking mask fall.\n\nBoiling tears, tinted red, gathered and collapsed on the filthy carpet just as he did. His forehead knocked to the surface as his gut gnawed itself raw; dry wretches of saliva, blood, bile and mucous. Filthy breathless gasps to follow. Split lips soaked in bodily fluids. Muscles twitching, anatomy quivering.\n\n*\"Promise...?\"*\n\n*\"Promise.\"*\n\nA broken sob, a broken voice. \n\nHis fingers dug into the rough fabric of the floor as his teeth grit, as his body betrayed itself, as he hated himself, hated everything, hated Touya.\n\n*He promised.*\n\n*He promised me.*\n\n\"You promised...\"\n\n\nSobbed. Hardly spoken\n\nPitiful that the promise was all they had, all *He* Had. What was left? What was he without something, someone to call his home; his taste of freedom, his chance to fly. Like a bird. \n\n*The gut wrenching agony, blade scraped inward against his scapula, flesh and muscle scooped away; pitiful tissue, so fragile. The metal was cold. His body was wet. No more wings. He'd never fly like the little creatures outside his window, at least not alone.*\n\nAgain, the wings were scraped from his being, and he was nothing all over again. Just dirty. Dirty and disgusting. \n\nStrings of blood and saliva dangling from his bottom lip, from his jaw. He lifted his splitting head to a room of dancing shadows, dancing demons. \n\nThe pills were in the bathroom." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "BCKSNSNSNFNDNFJDJF FGIGGLGIGNGNGNR NRRNRN BRO ITS SO GOOD FR EVERYONE READ THRIS." }, { "author": "trivialtea", "message": "\\ WOAHHH THIS IS SO GOOD WTF KJDSGKD" } ]

[ { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\nIt was storming out, Izuku wore a yellow coat with red rain boots walking from the station to Tokoyami's house. He was somewhat nervous, remembering how heated it was in the public group chat when the two had that disagreement. However it seemed Tokoyami was forgiving, and Izuku accepted his apology as well. \n\nSplashing in puddles along the way as he ran, trying to get there fast and without slipping Izuku moved out of the passer-by-way. Looking down at his phones for directions he wondered if he had the right place as he looked up at the town house. Stepping up the steps, Izuku began to ring the doorbell, standing there waiting to be let in." }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": "Yamiya, or rather 'Dark Shadow', sat by the window sill in the kitchen. She liked watching the rain as well as hearing it. Seeing all the worms come up and how there'd been no birds was captivating. Were they all in their homes? Eating rice with bird seed? She sat still wondering, before hearing the doorbell ring. She looked snapping out of her daydream and had ran over, a grimacing smile on her face as she had thought her brother and mother returned. Grabbing the door handle wiggling it and opening it, before being dissapointed. The wild and obnoxious demeanor dissipating as she had remembered, she was going to be tutored. \"Erhm...\" She muttered becoming shy. Why didn't they stay with her!? Now she had to face him head on. She stayed at the door before slowly trying to close the door again hoping he'd disappear." }, { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\nIzuku looked down at the girl who answered the door, wondering where her brother or mom was. She seemed nervous, which was to be expected. Izuku smiled at her, keeping his demeanor inviting he took off his hood showing his hair. \"I'm Midoriya Izuku, I'm your big brother's friend! Is he here?\" \n\nHe asked in a calm voice with just the right amount of enthusiasm. Izuku saw the door shut slowly, but he didn't force it open that would just scare her more. If she was too anxious about letting him in Izuku would leave, but again he doesn't want her left alone at home. \"I'm here to help with your homework, is it okay if I come in?\"" }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": "The girl gave a groan as she heard him talk about homework. What a pain it was to do, but she had remembered something. No one else was home, she was the boss of the house! And so, that meant she would be the one in charge of the rules. And to her... Izuku seemed like a deer in headlights. She laughed before opening the door once more this time with more force and grabbing the boy the sleeve. \"Yes! Yes come in! But first you have to let me chase you! Fumikage said that was homework too!!\" She laughed grabbing Deku forcefully. Despite her giddy manner, she had an evil look in her eyes. \"Hurry Hurry sheep!!\"" }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "Shes so cute I'm gonna throw her\n\n>>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\n\"Well hold on a sec- I need to take off my boats and coat first\" \n\nIzuku began hanging his rain coat and left his red boats near the door, Izuku looked for any guest slippers and saw the pair laid out for him. He thought it was funny how quickly her demeanor changed, Izuku kept a straight face though which was hard after being called a sheep. \n\n'*A sheep huh...?'* \n\n\"Hm, well, that definitely sounds like an important part of your homework. But, why don't we do the boring stuff first and then you can chase me around the house all you like?\"\n\nShe's all 🤬 🥊 \"CHASE YOU NOW!\"" }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓ 𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼 ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ── ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs...\n\nDark shadow snickered watching as Deku was entering the house. She let go of his coat sleeve as he took it off, before grabbing his wrist. \"No! No! I have to chase you first that's what Fumikage said!!\" She was very stubborn and also believed she was to trick him into giving into her scheme. She didn't want to do any kind of work especially not homework, the numbers and the math it was too frustrating. Unlike her brother she despised all kinds of homework, essentially they'd been polar opposites. \"I have to chase you now or you die!\"" }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "No she's gonna kill HIM\n\nToko *Gulp* Yooooure ...Gonna hate me\n\nI'm uh, eheh... Kindaaa getting sleepy" }, { "author": "anzu7018", "message": "I better have that response tomorrow when I wake up..." }, { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\nLooking down Yamiya tugged on Izuku's wrist, he smiled a bit nervous on what to do. She was obviously lying Izuku knew that, but if he met her half way maybe she would too. \"Well, uh- okay... But after, we have to do your homework. Then we can play any game you want\" Izuku hoped he wouldn't regret that, he couldn't help but laugh at the strange threat. \"Yeesh! It's really do or die? I guess I don't have a choice, but after we need to do your take-aways\" \n\nIzuku said, backing away and then he started to run. Izuku thought this would be too easy so he did slow down, waiting to hear a small pitter patter of feet behind him." }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": "Dark shadow had nodded at the agreement, knowing fully well that she was lying about doing anything like that. This would be a moment no one else would give her, she had tried playing with Fumikage multiple times, but no matter what he'd go on a rant about how they're never going to play again after what she did. But she didn't do anything? Once seeing Deku start to run and get away she immediately began to chase him. Going on all fours in order to try and catch up to him. A low laugh soon turned to a thrilled loud; one that seemed to be enjoying the moment too much. In a few seconds she'd caught up to the boy, lowering her body before pushing herself off the ground to bite on the boy's ankle. It hasn't been one that was super painful, but it definitely wasn't some sort of small pinch. As she'd let go she continued to chase after him. Her eyes filled with excitement." }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "WHEN I GET HOME ILL REPLY" }, { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\nTurning back Izuku's eyes widened in shock seeing the girl not just run but run on all FOURS. \"What the?!!\" Izuku began running faster now, careful not to slip or break anything. She laughed like some demon, Izuku turned back around, his face pale Izuku instantly regretted his decisions leading up to this. \"YAMIYA WAIT\" \n\nToo late, she finally caught up to him and chomped his ankle. Yes Izuku will live, but the fact she seemed so happy about this was definitely concerning. Izuku picked her up, lifting her by the armpit holding her away and he gave her a stern look. \"You can't just bite people, that isn't nice!\" \n\nPutting her down gently, Izuku realized he was treating her more like a puppy than a kid. \"Let's sit down for a second, we have to do your take-aways. I brought something with me to make it more fun!\"" }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": "Yamiya squirmed as she was picked up. Giving an irritated glare that was obviously upset over being caught so easily. She grabbed his hands as he set her down. Who was he to think he could tell her what to do? She was the one in charge! She sat down listening to the green haired boy talk about her homework, it was an awful awful conversation. \"No! Sheep I am the one in charge here!! This is my cave small fry!!! HAH!!\" Her hand that held onto his hand quickly pulled it towards him and bit onto his palm before running off once more. Going underneath the kitchen table before squeezing behind all kinds of bookshelves and other nooks and crannies. \"You can't catch me!! \" An evil laugh echoing throughout the house as she stayed hidden." } ]

[ { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\n\"Yamiya- Ow!!\" Izuku pulled his hand back, looking at his bitten hand he winced. Taking a deep breath he calmed down, with how Tokoyami was Izuku guessed she'd be the same. Quiet and reasonable, instead he's teaching a ball of spit fire with a biting problem. \n\nHe stayed quiet for a moment , standing still, Izuku regained his patience. Going to where he laid down his backpack, Izuku looked through the large pocket and found a pack of gummy worms. *Perfect* He thought. \n\nThen, walking around the dining room he found the home work That needed done. \"It looks like, I'll just have to do this work all by myself. It'll be hard, but it's a good thing I have candy to help!\" Izuku spoke loudly. Opening the bag, he sat on the floor, near where Yamiya was hiding. \"I wonder though... If I have 6 gummies and want to give two away to my friend Yamiya, how much would I have left?\"" }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": "\"I am Dark Shadow!!\" She laughed as hearing the boy call her by her name. To her it was a boring name, one that wasn't as cool as 'Dark Shadow'. Her phase of acting out a fantasy was one that'd been going on for a while. She snickered as she laid down hearing him say he's doing homework. \n\"Dork!! Doing homework!! Only!-\"\nShe cut herself off and had given a small gasp once hearing candy was involved. She was limited with what she was given as she could only get it if she was well behaved on special occasions. Crawling out from the couch, she stood up before walking to the student. \n\"Give me 2-..3! Worms!!\"\nShe put her hand out with a greedy smile, expecting him to have just hand over the food that he had. \n\"This is my cave! And I'm the queen so you have to!!\"" }, { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\nIzuku saw her small hand, he frowned, looking very confused he went back to looking at the paper in front of him. \"Well... I would give you 2...But, I can't , because I don't know how much I'd be left with. I can't even write the total down either because my hand is hurt..\" His hand was not hurt obviously Izuku knew what he was doing. \"So, I'm sorry dark shadow , i can't give you two worms ..Not without knowing how many *I'll have* Left\"\n\nIzuku sighed, his shoulders dropping dramatically. He turned away from her, acting very sad. \"If i can't share... I'll have to eat all of them. I'm sorry my queen, it's just... I can't do it. I wish i had help-\" \n\nIzuku peaked at her, getting a gummy worm he began to slowly take it to his mouth." }, { "author": "anzu7018", "message": "I HYST FOT OUT THE SHOWER" }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": "\"Tsh...\" The girl looked at the boy now having an irritated look. Who was he to have been denying her her food? Especially the gummy worms, those had been her favorite mostly because she enjoyed pretending to have been eating real ones. Not that it stopped her from eating real ones. Clicking her tongue in annoyance she answered.\n\"You'll have six since there's eight and I'm getting two! So give me it now, you sheep!\" The truth had been she found math to be quite easy. Considering how Tokoyami was a good student in his free time, when he was younger, he'd been forced to tutor his younger sister in order for her to easily pass her grade. Though now when she finished her work and wanted to play, usually people were too busy." }, { "author": "anzu7018", "message": "It's that thing for the sucking teeth where u go \"Tht \" Or something we did it a lot before going like \"Dudddeee it's not even funny\"" }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "Rq the question was \"6-2\"\n\nLMAO I mean ur not wrong\n\nBut yeah izuku said 6-2\n\nLet me get a bowl of cereal" }, { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\nIzuku smiled, pushing the paper and pencil towards her. The gummy worms were on the paper, maybe his methods of tutoring weren't professional by any means but it seemed to work. \"Great job! Okay, what about this one, we have a few more but I can't do it alone\" \n\nIzuku saw the next problem and began reaching for more candy worms. \"Okay, there's 7 in my hand, if I gave you two, but Tokoyami one, how many would I have left then?\" Izuku asked, snacking on his own gummies." }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": "Yamiya had quickly snagged away the gummy worms, before grabbing her pencil and filling out the work. She felt embarrassed doing the work, as this just meant she had to just stay still and finish everything. It was irritating, and frustrating. As she finished another problem she placed her pencil down before looking back up to Deku. \"4, There! Now you hide and I'll have to find you!!\" She smiled as she began to stand up wanting to play once again. Doing homework was boring, especially since she'd be wasting her free time for it." }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "Gang we short 😲 replying\n\nDo you want to do the plan where izuku walks into that room where her dad's alter is at" }, { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": ">>┏━━━━━━━━━ ✶ ━━━┓\n𝑴𝑰𝑫𝑶𝑹𝑰𝒀𝑨 𝑰𝒁𝑼𝑲𝑼\n ── ⋆ ✴︎ ⋆ ──\n ❝ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴇᴘᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss, ᴛʜᴇ\n ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴅᴀᴢᴢʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɢʜᴛ sʜɪɴᴇs❞\nM : \n ┗━━━ ✶ ━━━━━━━━━┛\n\nIzuku looked down at her paper, seeing how they were almost done maybe a break was needed. Taking the paper and bag of candies, Izuku put them on the table. \"After we play for 15 minutes, we'll finish your math and we can play until your brother gets back\" Izuku smiled. \n\n\"Close your eyes while I hide, no cheating!\" \n\nIzuku said, turning around to check to see if she was. When it was clear he began to walk fast around the house trying to find a hiding place. He checked a few spots like behind the couch or closet but it didn't feel right. \n\nIn the corner of his eye was a room with a cracked door. Something about it sparked curiosity though, Izuku began walking towards the door taking a peak inside. His head in first, Izuku scanned the area to see what was inside only to find a quiet space with a shrine of a man. It all clicked, Izuku stood there not taking another step. His smile faded, feeling glum and also guilty about knowing this." }, { "author": "@DARK sHADOW", "message": "Dark shadow had smiled widely and viciously. This would now be her chance to really show who's boss! He'd have no choice but to be afraid of her and know that she was in charge! \n\"Yes, yea!\"\nQuickly she turned around putting her hands over her eyes before having her head rest against a wall. \n\"1,2,3-\"\nShe began to count a bit fast under her breath. In school she was the best at games for a reason, it had been because she secretly cheated. Peeking through her fingers while counting she had tried to find Deku only to see how he wasn't anywhere near by. As she walked she counted before finallly declaring the count over. \"Okay I counted now I have to find you!!\"\nShe walked towards the direction she'd last seen Deku go, before seeing a sillouhette of someone in a room that had been closed off from Fumikage and her. Though both of them knew the reason as their mother had still been grieving and wasn't ready to alter the room. \n\"Mom?..\"\nAs Dark shadow slowly approached she realized who it was. Her mother hadn't returned it was Midoriya. Quickly she gripped his leg trying to pull it before really biting into his ankle. She'd seen in a nature video that, that's where tigers bit and it seemed to work. So maybe it'd work here also! \n\"Get OUT!!!!!\" She shouted as she continued to claw at the student." } ]

[ { "author": "Lalamani Zaitsev", "message": "```ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐙𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐄: 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･```\n\n\nLalamani smiled. She was meeting her wife here for a date. The place was massive, would definitely take up way too much of their time and that meant Mani would get to steal her wife away from their work for a few extra hours. She insisted that they came during the emptiest part of the day, \"So they didn't have to deal with the crowds\" She said. In truth it was because Lalamani wanted to make sure they took way too much time.\n\n``𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎, 𝒷𝒶𝒷𝓎, 𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓈𝑒𝑒?``\n\nShe looked beautiful, she made sure of that when she paid her makeup artist nearly five grand to make her stunning. She had made sure to buy herself a brand new dress, red of course, Lalamani wouldn't allow herself to be seen in any other main color. Her heels were black today, fairly tall and with red heart shaped gems on top. Nothing felt better than buying something so expensive that the person behind you let's out a little gasp. \n\n``𝒾 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓃𝑒𝑒𝒹~``\n\nThe moment Mani saw her she smiled, that wide, brilliant, and slightly crazed smile. However this time it wasn't backed by malice but instead backed by a very deep and slightly obsessive love for the woman she married. Without a single thought she threw herself at her wife. Not even daring to think that Shinako wouldn't catch her. Eagerly she clung to what was the love of her life and began to speak with a light tone.\n\n``𝑜𝓃𝓁𝓎 𝒶 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓊𝓈 𝒸𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓃 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓈𝒽𝑒``\n\n\"Shinako! I missed you darling! You missed our lunch date yesterday and you said 'If I ever miss one of our dates you get to decide what we do the next day' and I have chosen this very quaint and humble museum! Maybe we can see if the \"Art\" Here even comes close to the pieces we have at home!\" \n\n``𝒾'𝓂 𝒶 𝑔𝑒-𝑔𝑒-𝑔𝑒-𝑔𝑒-𝑔𝑒-𝑔𝑒-𝑔𝑒𝓃𝒾𝓊𝓈``" }, { "author": "Shinako Amaya", "message": "```. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄𝑪𝒓𝒂𝒛𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆```\n\nShinako was excited. She couldn't wait to see the love of her life. She had always been a busy woman, so any time she got alone with her wife was worth more than its weight in gold. So, she made sure she was on time. She had to be on time. Timing really was everything. She had to make sure everything was perfect for tonight . Especially since she had a gift in her hands as she approached the large, marble museum. \n\n``𝑰'𝒎 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒍𝒆...``\n\nIn truth, Shinako had taken the day off of work to prepare. Spending all day preparing the perfect outfit, gift, and makeup in order to make sure she had the best date possible. Sure, she now had some extra work to make up afterward, but it was worth it. She would do anything for Lalamani. Anything. If she wanted someone dead right now, she would only need to snap her fingers and it would be done. Especially since she had to make up for missing their last date.\n\n``𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏``\n\n\"I missed you more, love.\" Shinako smiled, her arms extending to offer her the small, flat box she had been carrying. \"I hope you like it, but of course if you see a specific peice you love here, I will foot that bill as well. Just to make up for missing yesterday.\"\n\n``And there's an old man sitting on the throne there saying that I probably shouldnt be so mean.``" }, { "author": "Lalamani Zaitsev", "message": "Lalamani smiled eagerly and took the gift gently into her hands. Opening the box and letting out an awestruck sound. It really was beautiful, and fit quite perfectly with Mani's whole color based aesthetic. \n\n``𝒞𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓂𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝑜 𝒶𝓅𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝒾𝓏𝑒``\n\n\"Oh darling this is perfect! I love it, so much so I might even wear this more than twice.\" \n\n``𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝑒 𝑔𝒾𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓂𝑒 𝒷𝓊𝓉𝓉𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓈``\n\nLalamani took Shinako's hand and led the two of them into the museum. Spending time with her wife was really like no other. It was peaceful, just the two of them in that museum. The only sounds being the clacking of their heels against the floor. They paused at the first painting and Mani tilted her head. The painting displayed an artist attempting to paint a quite beautiful model, however the piece that the artist was making looked nothing like the beauty he was meant to portray. \n\n``𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝓇𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝑜𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽 𝓂𝓎 𝑒𝓎𝑒𝓈``\n\n\"This one is quite beautiful don't you think? Not elegant enough to put in our home but it is quite pretty. Do you think we should get ourselves a painting commissioned. Something regal of course. What do you think about it all Shinako dear?\" \n\n``𝒹𝑜𝓃'𝓉 𝓀𝓃𝑜𝓌 𝒾𝒻 𝒾'𝓂 𝑔𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒``\n\nMani smiled and rested her head on her wife's shoulder as she questioned the other woman. Truly, being with Shinako tended to calm her, and right now? She was as relaxed as one could possibly be.\n\n``𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉 𝓈𝑜 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓈𝑜 𝓈𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓉``" } ]

[ { "author": "Izuku Midoriya (Deku)", "message": "**New York city was as bustling with activity as ever with a slight cloud coverage, making the sky a light grey. School was done for the day which meant it was time for Midoriya to run his errands and hit the gym for a while and then head home for dinner. At least, that was his plan.\n\nHe took out a single earphone and placed it in his ear and started listening to some music as he walked along the sidewalk path, eventually reaching his usual buss stop and taking a seat at the empty bench. He always came here because the stop was typically empty at this hour. Even if it was a bit further than the other buss stops, he didn't have to worry about being awkward around his classmates while they waited for a buss at the stops by the school.\n\nHe listened to various American artists, keeping his English sharp by analyzing the lyrics in his mind as he listened.\n\nHe sighed with content as he leaned back in his seat, keeping an eye out for the buss.**" }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "Every day was utterly exhausting. Being alive in this city was exhausting, perhaps that's why people called it the city that never sleeps; no one stopped, no one slowed, wavered, staggered. It was all constant. A tree lined street, background of crowded cookie cutter houses, cars whipping on by, saddened sky dwelling heavily above. The clouds may just collapse at any moment, weighing upon the world in their falling. Their tears would inevitably drench the dry world around him. \n\nHe needed a drink. He needed release- anything at all. Anything was better than this weight- the weight he shared with the clouds above. Approaching the bus stop- destination bar, maybe gym, his eyes caught on green. The bastard had been sitting around here a while, and arrived long before him. They were always ahead, one step, two step, three and then five. He couldn't keep up, couldn't compare. Hatred seared at his innards as he glared down at the remaining wreckage of his regretful childhood, quietly seated himself on the opposite end of the bench, fingers gripping against the cold hard plastic, scraping his calloused palms as he uncomfortably fidgeted and shifted with anxiety- the kind that made him wanna hurl.\n\nHe couldn't just sit here and lock eyes with everything that he was not.\n\nTheir existence utterly butchered him and no matter his denial, his rejection, his rage, he couldn't escape the slow and agonzing torture that was their very being. He hated them and then he loved them and then he owed them the entire world and then some. Nothing could be defined, described, or pinpointed to one exact truth when everything in his head, memory and heart was in a muddle." }, { "author": "Izuku Midoriya (Deku)", "message": "**He glanced over at Bakugo as he sat down, realizing he was *Also* Sitting at the buss stop to wait on the next transport. He took in a last breath before holding it to remain as quiet as possible. Since Bakugo hadn't spoken anything to him yet, he wondered if he even knew he was there at all. He didn't make eye contact with Bakugo at all as he sat as stiff as a board.\n\nA single drop of sweat trickled down his face as he waited on the buss. Time slowed down. Seconds turned into minutes as he anxiously tapped his foot on the ground now, waiting on the buss to show up.**" } ]

[ { "author": ". kai,chisaki ,-", "message": "*𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐓 the Yakuza was more than just a side hustle for Kai (despite owning the damn place); it was a delightful escape from reality. Growing up, Chisaki had always been reserved and hesitant when it came to engaging with others. However, his father, lovingly referred to as Pops, instilled in him the importance of conversation and gathering information. According to Pops, knowledge could be even more valuable than money itself. So there he stood behind the bar table, leaning forward slightly with a mischievous wink directed towards an elegant lady dressed in black. As he asked her how her day had been, Chisaki knew that this seemingly simple interaction held great significance. The Yakuza nightclub may not have boasted an exclusive clientele solely consisting of celebrities; instead, it attracted influential individuals who were involved in various forms of corruption.*\n\n_ _\n*Kai loved owning the Yakuza nightclub because it was a haven for those involved in the underworld. It wasn't just about serving drinks; it was about being part of a world where power and secrets intertwined. The club's popularity attracted influential individuals who thrived on the thrill of living dangerously. Kai reveled in the knowledge that within these walls, deals were made, alliances formed, and information exchanged like currency. It was a place where loyalty was valued above all else, and trust could be earned or shattered with a single word. Owning the nightclub gave Kai a sense of control, allowing him to navigate the treacherous waters of this clandestine society. Here, he could witness firsthand the intricate dance between power and corruption, playing his own role in this dangerous game. As he leaned against the bar table, observing the patrons with his keen eyes, Kai knew that this was where he truly belonged - in the heart of darkness, where shadows whispered secrets and danger lurked at every corner. This view made Chisaki Mr. Hot-and-Dangerous in every sense of the statement. Toya is most definitely right.*\n\n_ _ \n*It was impossible to resist the allure of Chisaki's captivating molten gold eyes. They had a mesmerizing effect on anyone who made eye contact while engaged in conversation, almost like a spell that compelled them to return to the bar table time and time again. There was an undeniable magic in the way Chisaki showed genuine interest in people's lives, making them feel valued and heard. His alluring charm only added to his magnetic pull, drawing individuals closer with each interaction. Little did those who were enchanted by Chisaki's presence know that every word exchanged between them held immense value for him. While he appeared genuinely interested in their stories and experiences, he also possessed a keen ability to extract valuable information from these conversations. Each sentence spoken became another piece of the puzzle for Chisaki – knowledge that could potentially be used for his own advantage or understanding.*\n\n*If it weren't for Toya's missing clothes, Chisaki would have assumed that he was sitting in front of him for that exact reason - to catch a glimpse of those mesmerizing deep gold eyes once again. As he prepared a margarita for a group of intoxicated blonde college girls and their friends, Chisaki wondered if the allure of his gaze played a part in his decision to be there. For Chisaki, it was the memory of those captivating cerulean eyes that lingered in his mind as he skillfully mixed the cocktail, adding just the right amount of tequila and lime juice. The thought crossed his mind while shaking up the drink, causing him to momentarily lose focus on his task at hand. Nevertheless, Chisaki quickly regained composure and continued serving drinks with an air of nonchalance.*\n\n_ _\n*As he carefully poured the drink, his gaze would occasionally drift towards Toya, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, though concealed beneath his mask. The college girls eagerly accepted their drinks and erupted into drunken giggles as Chisaki bid them farewell for the night. With excitement bubbling in their veins, they rose from their seats and made their way to the dance floor where slow pop music reverberated throughout the lively club. Their bodies swayed effortlessly to the rhythm, lost in a world of carefree joy and vibrant energy.*\n\n*Chisaki couldn't help but feel a sense of disgust as he observed the scene before him. The crowded room was filled with perspiring bodies, clumsily moving and grinding against one another on the dance floor like intoxicated rodents. His eyebrows furrowed in disapproval as he quickly turned away, deciding it was time to clean up and put away the margarita shaker. With meticulous care, he reached for a pristine white cloth to dry off the shaker, his attention momentarily diverted. In that brief moment, Chisaki's gaze shifted sideways ever so slightly, catching a glimpse of the Todoroki from the corner of his eye.*\n\n_ _\n\"So,\" *Chisaki spoke, his voice resonating above the pulsating music that filled the air. He carefully placed the shaker down on the counter and turned around to face Toya. The sight of him was like a breath of fresh air, a welcome respite for Chisaki's weary eyes. Bathed in the ethereal glow of the navy light, Toya seemed to possess an otherworldly aura that captivated Chisaki's valuable attention. As he found himself inexplicably drawn to Toya's allure, Chisaki questioned his own thoughts. It was unusual for him to find someone so attractive, considering how little he knew about him. Yet, despite these perplexing emotions swirling within him and his lack of familiarity with Toya, there was an undeniable connection forming between them.*\n\n*Chisaki leaned into the bar table, their elbows inadvertently touching. The dimly lit room was filled with the low hum of conversations and clinking glasses, creating an ambiance that seemed to envelop them both. With a genuine curiosity shining in his eyes, Chisaki asked inquisitively,* \"What can I get you?\" *His voice was smooth and teasing as he knew Toya was at the club for his earring and jacket. The way he leaned closer suggested not only a desire to hear Toya's order but also an unspoken invitation for deeper connection.*" }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "The bustling nightclub was something Toya enjoyed, something that he always claimed was his scene. He much preferred people who were chugging liquor to forget their sorrows and life surrounding them, dancing and grinding against one another to just *Forget* For even the briefest of moment, over the environment he grew up. Lucious interiors and picture-perfect *Everything* Was never quite the eldest Todoroki child's style, far too tense and overly-calculated for the \"Likes of him\" As he puts it. While he definitely wouldn't complain and had some comprehension of how good he had it, of how *Lucky* He was to never worry about having a roof over his head, there were many other things that replaced it.\n\nA person trying to escape their own realities was something that Toya was quite familiar with, even if he could play the part of the perfect son well when he deemed it worth his time. That was always something rare, however, only occurring when he felt that he could get something out of it, no matter how selfish it may be. Selfish was a word that he'd grown accustomed to being called throughout his years, even as a young child who couldn't comprehend what was truly being implied. It wasn't until he was trapped in his childhood home as it had been mistakenly set ablaze, the hot flames eventually causing his skin to melt off in fourth degree burns that he realized his father was the epitome of selfish. Being in a coma for a little over a year and permanently having gnarled flesh on parts of his body can really change a person, changing them even more when they realize the only reason they didn't get saved sooner was because their father would rather save himself and his precious \"Miracle child\". The nickname always left a poor taste in his mouth, much worse than any liquor ever could.\n\nThe consistent abuse the white-haired man sustained in his earlier years was evident in the ways he did things, whether it be small and occasional fidgeting or who he happened to grow more attached to. Although he was much better at refraining from growing attached to people now, far more reluctant to offer even a sliver of genuine emotion to those he's even known for years, something was different about the— unbeknownst to him— head of the yakuza that brought their criminal activities to New York. At first, when reasoning with himself, he had his mind thoroughly convinced that it was just because he was receiving attention from somebody who appeared to not have any ill-will. Then again, Chisaki Kai *Was* Part of a gang, so perhaps he was going to kidnap him one day and hold him for ransom; he didn't think he'd mind if it was a man as attrative as him, though.\n\nToya wasn't even really sure why he was here in the first place, especially when he came to the realization that his identity had already been found out. It was out of character for him to return, but something drew him back in that he would be a fool to deny. There was something *More* About Kai and he'd be damned if he wouldn't try to satiate his curiosity; curiosity did kill the cat, though. With his knee bouncing beneath the cold, hard surface of the bar in front of him, he watched the other as he did his job with an ease that had him filled with a sense of admiration. Clearing his throat a little, he sat there surprisingly patient, reminding himself that he was just there to get his things and then leave. The second somebody finds out his identity before he confesses it to someone, he's supposed to *Leave.* Or so he told himself.\n\n\"Mm?\" So lost in thought that it took Toya a moment to register that he was being approached and spoken to, he almost jolted backwards at the sudden contact if it weren't for his ~~little~~ self control. Bright blue eyes met pools of honey captured in Kai's and he swore he was going to malfunction for a second, his breath catching in his throat. If he was shot in the head right now, he'd die a *Very* Happy man with no regrets. For a fleeting second, it was like all of the almost-decade-old-anger pent up inside of him had vanished, his partially burnt shoulders dropping as he relaxed a little bit. Clearing his throat, a faint smile tugged up at his lips and he weighed his options on what to say before being quick to pick one.\n\n\"I'm assuming that you're off the menu, so how about a Shirley Temple. I'd rather stay sober for a while tonight that way I'll remember your face much better.\" The casual flirts slipped past Toya's lips with an ease that even caught himself off-guard, making him wonder is maybe he drank earlier without remembering. (He didn't.) Propping one elbow up onto the bar, he rested the side of his face in the palm of his calloused hand, eyes seeming to study the other for a brief second as he allowed their bare skin to make contact. How long had it been since he'd felt the touch of another person in any capacity that wasn't aggressive or misleading? He wasn't quite sure anymore." }, { "author": ". kai,chisaki ,-", "message": "*𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐃 in response to Toya's witty remark.* \"Ah, you've got jokes, Toya,\" *He replied with a playful tone. As he stood behind the counter, Chisaki pondered making a clever comment about how Toya had technically never seen his entire face in person before. However, after a moment of consideration, he decided against it. Toya's choice of clothes caught Chisaki's attention. The tank top hugged Toya's slightly muscular frame, accentuating his well-defined arms shadowed by the light. A silver chain dangled from his neck, catching the navy blue light and adding a touch of edginess to his look.*\n\n*Chisaki couldn't help but wonder if Toya had intentionally chosen that outfit to impress him or simply to look good. The slim tank top accentuated his toned physique, perhaps serving as the perfect canvas for the jacket he had left behind. Ah, yes, the jacket. Suddenly, Chisaki stood up straight and raised his right pointer finger in a gesture of pause and concentration.*\n\n\"One moment,\" *He said, his voice filled with a hint of anticipation as he gracefully walked off, disappearing into the small room hidden behind the bustling bar table. This exclusive space was reserved only for employees, an enclave of secrets and treasures. As he stepped inside, his eyes immediately landed on a plastic bag that contained the Todoroki's belongings - an earring and a jacket.*\n\n_ _ \n*With careful hands, he gingerly picked up the bag, feeling its weight, the jacket seemed pretty heavy isself. The earring only added little weight. Chisaki went back to where he was, behind the bar. Leaning over the counter, Kai made a conscious effort to meet Toya's gaze directly. Their eyes locked. In that split second, something stirred within Kai. It wasn't nervousness or anticipation; it was a gentle warmth spreading through his chest. The feeling was unfamiliar yet strangely comforting, like a delicate flame flickering to life on a chilly evening. He gently placed the plastic bag on the floor beside Toya's feet.*\n\n\"Here you are,\" *Chisaki stated, his voice ever so slightly cracking. That was unlike him, the young capo, to have a voice crack. That small, and seemingly insignificant detail sent Chisaki into the depths of his mind. __Was__ he shy? The gentle warmth spreading through his chest reminded him that even someone like him, who had built walls around himself for so long, could still experience the flutter of connection. And perhaps, just maybe, this newfound sensation would lead to something more meaningful than power or control.*\n\n*Pushing those foreign feelings aside, Chisaki focused on his task at hand and moved around the bar area to prepare Toya's order of a Shirley Temple. With almost too much experience under his belt, he effortlessly measured out the perfect amount of grenadine and soda water. Carefully adding ice cubes and garnishing the drink with a maraschino cherry on top, Chisaki took pride in every detail.*\n\n_ _\n*While expertly preparing the drink, he couldn't help but steal a quick glance at Toya, who exuded an undeniable charm. Feeling a surge of confidence, he decided to strike up a conversation with her. Playfully teasing, he asked,* \"So, do you flirt with every '*Mildly attractive'* Bartender? Or, is this just you being you?\"\n\n*Chisaki carefully placed the exquisitely crafted Shirley Temple on the table, right in front of Toya. The drink was a true work of art, with its vibrant colors swirling and dancing enticingly within the crystal-clear glass. It was as if each ingredient had been carefully selected to create a visual masterpiece that would captivate anyone who laid eyes upon it.*" }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "The acknowledgment of Toya's flirting had his faint smile turning into a lazy smirk, head tilting further into the palm of his hand. His eyes wandered every inch of Kai's body, both in an obvious attempt at checking him out, but also in a sort of admiration. From the stunning tattoos that littered the expanse of his skin so carefully to his neatly rolled up sleeves, he could tell that the man in front of him was well put together. It was a short train of thought, but an envy crept its way into his mind at the fact that somebody could truly be so gathered mentally, something he'd never experienced. It was almost sickening to somebody as he who had known nothing of peace, opting to carve more chaos into the world because he knew of nothing else.\n\n\"Who's to say I was joking.\" His gravelly voice broke the moment of silence between the two in a heartbeat, eyes half-lidded as Toya admired the Yakuza boss in front of him. Free arm finding itself resting against the bar, his hand grasped onto his bicep subconsciously, blunt nails digging into the soft flesh out of habit. When Chisaki had put his pointer finger up momentarily, he understood and gave an understanding nod before watching him retreat to the employees-only room. In that time, he allowed his eyes to wander the bar once again, watching the other people in the vicinity carelessly party as if it would be their last night. Perhaps it would be for some.\n\nThe moment Toya saw his ~~future husband~~ newest *Interest* Return from the depths of the staff room, he tilted his head back towards him. What he wasn't expecting to see, however, was the other's eyes purposefully locking with his own. Nails digging farther into the skin of his arm, he took a sharp breath, making a poor attempt at trying to steady his racing heart. Swallowing thickly, he just sat there and quietly stared, the close contact between the two having heat rush to his cheeks. He was grateful for the poor lighting.\n\n\"Thanks.\" Toya muttered, eyes flickering down to the plastic bag for a second before reaching for it. Despite feeling rather warm already— he always ran warmer, though—, he released his arm from his grasp that had created crescent-shaped indents in favor of grabbing the bag. Shoving one hand into the bag, it rustled a little as his fingers searched for the earring until he found what he had desired. Grasping onto the cold metal, he used his freehand to basically yank the random metal of bar he'd found earlier that day that was the 16 gage size he needed to stop it from healing. Skillfully maneuvering the metal piercing into place, he didn't need to look so he just let his eyes un-focus, quickly glossing over in the maybe minute in took him to do the whole ordeal. After another moment, he snapped back to reality, his eyes finding Kai's form again as he was preparing his drink.\n\n\"Oh, did I say mildly attractive? Sorry, I meant extremely attractive.\" Smirk growing just a little bit, the fire performer reached into the bag and was quick to slip on the leather clothing that fit the rest of his outfit well. In an instant he was a bit more relaxed, body a little more lucid as he had his mangled flesh out of view, uncaring if it was difficult to see under the colorful lighting. Arms returning to their original position, his tongue played with the metal of his dimple piercing, the metal ball screwed into the muscle clashing against the metal in his cheek. His eyes followed Kai's movements, admiring the way his muscles seemed to move beneath his button-up that practically had him drooling. Grateful that he could see such a thing, he hummed a little, fingers drumming against the side of the black leather sleeve.\n\nIn an instant, Toya had released his hold on his bicep in favor of grabbing onto the cold glass drink that he'd ordered only a couple minutes ago. Dipping his head as a sort of silent \"Thank you\", he set it directly in front of his mouth, fingers lazily leading the plastic straw in it to his lips. Taking a sip, he gave another hum, this one out of sheer gratefulness that the ratios were perfect as far as he was concerned.\n\n\"How's your shift goin' so far? Seems real busy.\" It was a feeble attempt at making conversation, but Toya wanted to talk to him more." } ]

[ { "author": ". kai,chisaki ,-", "message": "𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 sip of his whiskey, he saw how the younger man sitting across from him seemed completely oblivious to the presence of the new lady bartender. She was undeniably attractive, possessing all the qualities that would typically catch someone's eye. It surprised him, in a way, that Toya didn't even shoot her a wink or give her any sort of flirtatious acknowledgement. His sharp eyes darted back and forth between the bartender and the eldest Todoroki for a brief moment before he took in a soft inhale and discreetly placed his mask over his lips.\n\nAs he reflected on their conversation so far, it struck him that his previous remark about going to his place had been somewhat daring and out of character for someone in his position as a capo. It wasn't exactly what one would expect from him - an individual who usually had authority and control. Nonetheless, there was something about this particular encounter that made him throw caution to the wind and speak those words without much thought.\n\n_ _\nChisaki slowly nodded, his eyes scanning the figure of Toya before him. As he uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet, Chisaki noticed just how short Toya appeared in comparison. The discrepancy between their heights was even more pronounced now that they were standing face-to-face. It had been deceiving when Chisaki observed Toya from behind the bar table; the elevated platform giving an illusion of height difference. However, as Chisaki took a step closer to Toya on the regular floor, he realized that the others stature truly fell far below his initial expectations. Chisaki observed with amusement as he watched Toya's agitation becoming increasingly apparent in his attitude and the way he puffed his cheeks in frustration upon being caught on such a simple statement. It was fascinating to see how easily Toya's emotions were betrayed through his body language. Chisaki found it endearing, causing him to slightly dip his head down and examine the other man closely. With golden eyes gleaming, he couldn't help but think to himself, \"How adorable.\"\n\n_ _\nThe capo remained silent as the idea of a cigarette was proposed. His stoic expression gave away nothing, neither approving nor disapproving. Instead, he chose to silently trail behind Toya, maintaining a respectful distance that Chisaki always adhered to - approximately six feet apart. As they maneuvered through the crowded room filled with revelers, it became evident that most partygoers instinctively made way for Chisaki without hesitation. It was clear they understood the unspoken authority he held.\n\nAmidst the bustling crowd, Kai's observant eyes caught sight of Toya's platform shoes. These elevated footwear choices added a significant boost in height to Toya's stature. The image amused Chisaki and elicited an inward chuckle from him - a husky chuckle that blended seamlessly with the lively ambiance of conversations and contemporary pop music playing in the background. The club-owner stepped outside, expecting a mild chill in the air. However, to his surprise, the temperature was much colder than he had anticipated. The biting cold wind brushed against his face, causing a soft pink hue to flush on the tip and bridge of his nose. Shivering slightly, Chisaki instinctively crossed his arms over his chest for warmth.\n\n_ _\nAs he looked up at the night sky, memories from his childhood flooded back into his mind. Growing up in a area decently far from the city (pops liked privacy), Chisaki would often find solace in gazing at the starry night sky. He could vividly picture stars twinkling and shining brightly above him while nearby koi ponds reflected the gentle glow of the moonlight. The ripples on the water's surface were visible as if they danced along with each passing breeze. However, reality brought him back to present-day New York City - a stark contrast to those peaceful scenes etched in his memory. Instead of twinkling stars and serene ponds, Chisaki was surrounded by bright LED billboards that illuminated every corner of the city streets, making it hard to see the stars at night. Skyscrapers towered above him like giants casting long shadows over everything below.\n\nChisaki's eyes gaze caught onto Toya, who held a pack of cigarettes in his hand. The packaging was a striking combination of white and red, instantly recognizable as Marlboro - Chisaki's preferred brand. Another surprise; he had expected Toya to have more refined tastes when it came to indulgences like this. However, Chisaki quickly reminded himself that there was nothing wrong with enjoying a Marlboro every now and then. After all, treating oneself occasionally couldn't possibly do any harm, could it? He could easily recall the number of packs he had indulged in by simply counting on his fingers. Among those shared moments of smoking, there were instances when Chisaki and his friend Kurono would exchange their coffin nails. They both understood the unspoken rule: take a drag and then pass it along to your companion. This ritualistic act created a bond between them, as if they were sharing more than just tobacco.\n\n_ _\nHowever, when the Todoroki offered Chisaki a cigarette from his pack. It caught him off guard for a moment as he hesitated before accepting the wrapped tobacco. Holding it in his hand, he stared at it intently for a brief second while contemplating its significance. Chisaki pulled down his mask and brought the cigarette close to his lips. He would just brush his teeth. No big of an issue. It wasn't like he was about to put something that had someone else's mouth on it, he prayed hives wouldn't pop up on his face as he took a long, deep drag of smokey hell. With his inhale, his chest expanded and puffed out. The buttons on his shirt strained against the defined muscles of his pectoral area, emphasizing his physical prowess.\n\nAs he held onto the cigarette between two fingers, Chiskai exhaled a slow sigh through his nose. Wisps of smoke gracefully escaped from parted lips with every word that left Chisaki's mouth. The smoky tendrils danced in the air around him, \"Mmm. I do. I have for about three years now.\" Mummured Chisaki, offering the cigarette back to Toya.\n\n\"You know, these things kill.\"" }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "\"D—Don't you too?\" A white brow raised, cerulean-blue eyes holding gold ones, the grin never disappearing from Toya's face. He was playing with fire just as he always did and always would. ||bc toya doesn't know he's the leader yet for this rp but he does know he's part of it ykyk.|| Raising the cigarette to his lips, his cheeks hallowed momentarily as he took a drag of it before slowly blowing out smoke, making a point to blow a little bit of the wispy substance towards Kai's direction. Adrenaline was either coursing through his veins right now or his nerves were starting to bite at him,– he hoped the former–, as he found himself getting lost in the sun-like color of Kai's eyes. Hand loosely holding the cigarette, his arm laid limply by his side as it just burned, already forgotten by him." }, { "author": "aurrstar", "message": "Toya got them roach killaz on" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I'm not a fan of how it started out because i was blacking out when i started it, but." } ]

[ { "author": " . TOMOYASU CHIKAZOKU ", "message": "*𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐒𝐔 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 idea of attending school in person. The mere thought of it filled him with an overwhelming sense of dread. He had convinced himself that he had successfully escaped this obligation for the entire month, but alas, his attempt to evade it by sending a nonchalant email to his teacher saying \"Hey, I don't feel like going to school\" Proved futile. No one seemed to care about his lack of enthusiasm or desire for the week off. With a heavy heart and an unhappy pout on his face, Tomoyasu reluctantly made his way through the desolate halls. Bangs covered his eyes, preventing any glimpse into his soul or allowing even a sliver of sunlight to brighten up the pale skin. His countenance exuded an air of unapproachability; anyone who crossed paths with him would think twice before attempting any form of interaction.*\n\n*As he trudged along, Tomoyasu couldn't help but wonder why he was being subjected to such torment. Wasn't there another way? A more convenient and comfortable method of acquiring knowledge? The traditional brick-and-mortar style education seemed archaic and suffocating. Nevertheless, he continued on, silently resenting every step that brought him closer to those dreaded classrooms where torture awaited.*\n\n*With his long black silky hair cascading down his back like a river of satin, slowly glided through the hallway. As he walked, his eyes remained fixated on the screen of his phone, engrossed in scrolling through a seemingly endless stream of posts on a subreddit dedicated to cloning. Though he enjoyed exploring different topics and engaging in intellectual discussions online, he noticed that most of the content within this particular subreddit seemed to be filled with baseless claims and speculative theories.*\n\n_ _\n*Tomoyasu's fascination with cloning had always been an intriguing aspect of his life. From delving into scientific articles about genetic manipulation to pondering ethical dilemmas surrounding human replication, he found himself constantly drawn to this controversial subject matter. However, as much as he valued expanding his knowledge in this area, time was not always on his side.*\n\n*Suddenly realizing that minutes were slipping away faster than anticipated, Tomoyasu glanced at the clock and cursed under his breath. He was perilously close to being late for class.*\n\n*He wished his teacher wasn't there. It was Ms. Johnson, the one who had rejected his attempt to skip in-person class for the week. Tomoyasu bit his lip as he contemplated the situation. \"Maybe,\" He thought to himself, \"Maybe it's because of that substitute teacher... What was his name again? Professor Karona? No, that doesn't sound right.\" Tomoyasu wracked his brain trying to recall the correct name. \"Ah, yes! Professor Kurono! That sounds more like it.\" However, despite struggling with remembering much about Professor Kurono, Tomoyasu found himself clinging onto a glimmer of hope that this silver-haired man would be taking over their Biology class today.*\n\n*If it were indeed Professor Kurono standing at the front of the classroom instead of Ms. Johnson, Tomoyasu knew deep down that it would make his day so much easier. The mere thought brought a sense of relief and optimism to him amidst all the stress and pressure he felt from facing his regular teacher every day in Biology class.*\n\n***Oh boy, wouldn't that just be perfect?***\n\n_ _\n*As Tomoyasu walked into the Biology class, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. With each step, he mouthed words to himself, his lips moving carefully as if trying to calm his racing thoughts. As he entered the room, his eyes immediately fixated on a figure with striking silver hair. His heart skipped a beat as he realized that this must be Professor Kurono. But wait, was it really him? He couldn't recall ever seeing someone so captivating before.*\n\n*Tomoyasu's memory flashed back to their previous interactions over Zoom calls. Yes, he remembered Professor Kurono's voice - deep and alluring - but this physical presence was something entirely different. It was as if an ethereal aura surrounded him, enhancing his already attractive features. Unable to tear his gaze away from the professor's mesmerizing appearance, Tomoyasu felt a rush of emotions wash over him. He found himself questioning how someone could exude such beauty effortlessly. The way the light reflected off those silver strands seemed almost magical.*\n\n*Tomoyasu discreetly pinched himself just to make sure he wasn't dreaming or hallucinating this surreal encounter. This was definitely not what he had expected when walking into class today.*\n\n*As he made his way towards the substitute teacher's desk, one could only catch glimpses of his face - a lip being anxiously bitten and a slightly reddened nose. However, fate seemed to have other plans for Tomoyasu on this particular day. Unbeknownst to him, the loose turtleneck he was wearing proved to be quite mischievous. As he passed by Professor Kurono's desk, its fabric caught onto the sharp edge of the wooden surface. The forceful tug resulted in an audible rip that reverberated throughout the room, causing all heads to turn towards Tomoyasu in surprise.*\n\n_ _ \n*In that momentary silence following the unexpected sound, every pair of eyes fixated on him. Some wore expressions of amusement at this unforeseen mishap. Tomoyasu had inadvertently become the center of attention.*\n\n*The skeptic, overwhelmed by a wave of despair and longing for an escape from the prying gazes that seemed to relentlessly follow him, yearned for nothing more than to cease existing in that very moment. In fact, his desire was so intense and specific that it encompassed not just a mere disappearance but rather a fantastical act of ascending into the heavens, leaving behind all earthly worries. The weight of those pairs of eyes fixated upon him felt suffocating, as if they were silently judging every move he made.*\n\n*As Tomoyasu entered the classroom with freakishly light steps and a burdened heart, he was an outcast among his peers. His throat tightened with unease as he attempted to clear it discreetly, hoping to find solace in focusing on anything other than the penetrating stares directed towards him. With each deliberate stride towards his assigned seat at the back of the room, where shadows offered some semblance of refuge, he could sense both relief and trepidation intertwining within him.*\n\n*Taking his place at the very back corner of the classroom seemed fitting for someone who often found themselves questioning everything around them. From this vantage point, he could observe without being observed - an invisible observer amidst a sea of faces absorbed in their own worlds. The classroom hummed with the sound of whispered conversations and shuffling papers, but Tomoyasu felt detached from it all. He longed for a moment of respite, a chance to escape the suffocating weight of his own doubts and insecurities.*\n\n||" }, { "author": " . HARI KURONO . ", "message": "***𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘧 𝘛𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘺𝘢𝘴𝘶'𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰'𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘯𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘸𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯.** Kurono's mornings were typically spent making breakfast, seeing Kai off to work, then driving Eri to school, leaving the rest of his day to either complete unfinished jobs, fill out paperwork that his boss is too lazy to even look at, or head to the Yakuza or the nearby universities to do some work as a bartender or Biology substitute teacher, to their respective professions.*\n\n*But today didn't go that way. There was no breakfast on the table, no seeing Kai off to work; in fact, Kai made the decision not to go anywhere for the day, as he solemnly sat in the passenger's seat whilst Hari filled out his morning duties. Yet the two still bid adieu to Eri with kind smiles on their faces, it was all too apparent that there was some sort of depressive aura about the Capo. It wasn't until the two were alone, and back at the house before Hari decided to question Kai about his mood.*\n\n*𝘈𝘯𝘥, 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘛𝘰𝘺𝘢. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘒𝘢𝘪'𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘹𝘵.*\n\n*That, and the news on the radio.*\n\n*Truth be told, Hari had truly been the root cause of Chisaki's pain, but the needle-haired man would never admit that to Kai. He'd been the one who, in a fit of anger, anonymously submitted a very detailed message to the popular radio show host, attaching files of pictures that had been taken off a sub-par burner long snapped and thrown away. So, as well as exploiting the rather distasteful relationship, Hari subsequently pushed Kai \"Out of the closet.\" That was never his intention, but then again, Kurono had recently been fencing himself doing things he'd never thought he'd do. Such as plotting the demise of the rejected son of a political figure.*\n_ _\n\n*Either way, Hari felt crushed under the dejected state of Kai, and decided that it would be best if he were to keep himself in his bosses' company for the day. And for a good two hours, the two spent time embracing on the couch, discussing deeper thoughts that they knew would never leave that living room, watching an old romance thriller with the blinds shut to emulate the feeling of watching horrors at night. It wasn't exactly Kai's taste in movies, in terms of genre, but Hari managed to pick a film that had Kai at the end of his seat. And all Hari could ever have wanted in that moment was for Kai to not think about his inner turmoil.*\n\n*Underneath silken covers, and with a glance held too long noticed, Hari couldn't help but want to give his emotions over to Kai. Pale slender fingers held Kai's face softly, and though the other's expression seemed to be indifferent, Kurono had yet to hear a complaint or feel the tugging away of Chisaki's face. He leaned in softly, pale pink lips caressing clean skin. A whisper left his throat, voice silky and smooth as he proposed a suggestion.*\n\n\"You don't need to think about him right now... Allow me to occupy you, if you will.\"\n\n*Making the first move was a rarity for the silver-haired male, as Kai typically preferred to be the one to initiate things, over spoken words of wants, but never action. With the slight upward tilt of his head, a small nod could be seen one second, and the next lips placed over the others, providing a passionate sense of comfort for his leader to fall into. Hands pulling each other closer than before, hesitant yet hasty, Hari felt as if the two could stay like this forever. *\n_ _\n\n*...That was, until Hari's phone buzzed in his pocket, alerting him with unwarranted importance.*\n\n*Of course, Chisaki urged him to answer the phone, with an unamused raise of his left brow. Hastily picking up the phone, Hari answered with an, albeit thick, formal greeting. He was needed to substitute at Columbus University, and there were no others available in the area, just to his luck. Rejection was on the tip of his tongue, but Kai was quicker, and suggested that it would be a good idea for him to go, and that he would be able to manage by himself. He couldn't just deny Kai, he would never forgive himself if he did that. So, with a heaved sigh, Hari pulled himself from the couch, took a cold shower, and pulled his autumn coat over his shoulders as he headed out the door.*\n\n*It was no wonder he seemed to be deeply ingrained in frustrated thoughts when Chikazoku came into the classroom. Scribbling corrections over a homework sheet, face ever-so-slightly flushed and lip swollen due to the anxious antics of the biology substitute. Hari barely looked up from the sheet of paper when Tomoyasu strolled in, that was, until the clumsy student passed by Hari's desk, turtleneck catching onto the edge of the desk, and with a great, loud tear, silenced the hushed murmurings of peers.*\n\n*Looks like someone was going to need a new turtleneck. *\n\n*Doing his best not to smile at the agoraphobe's dismayed expression as he turned his gaze upwards to look at the student, a glint of amusement flashed through his eyes. It was apparent that Tomoyasu was nearly paralyzed in fear of the situation he'd been shoved into thanks to a cheap turtleneck, and a rough edge. Tilting his head slightly, Hari watched as Tomoyasu wordlessly sulked to his seat. This certainly boosted his mood.*\n_ _\n\n*Speaking of the gloomy student, this might've been the first time Hari had seen him actually attend the physical class. On many occasions he would hold private Zoom calls for the inky-haired student, to catch up on work missed during the day. And Kurono could tell that the emo much preferred the one-on-one lessons, as when Hari began to teach the class, he could tell Tomoyasu was keeping his beady eyes locked onto Hari, but never raised his hand to answer a question.*\n\n*𝘕𝘰 𝘯𝘰, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘥𝘦.*\n\n*When the entirety of the class was stumped on a question, Hari pressed his ruler against the chalkboard with a sigh. It was incredibly frustrating when his class preferred to silence themselves only when a question was asked, and chatted the day away when he spoke. With a pinched brow Hari closed his eyes, and pointed out to the sea of people. Finger landing on his victim, Hari turned his gaze to the guidelines of his arm. *\n\n*𝘉𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘰.*\n\n*His aim landed directly on Chikazoku, and with an urging smile, Hari called to him to gain the attention of the Skeptic.*\n\n\"Mr. Chikazoku, if you would give me the pleasure of answering the question, I'd be grateful for your willing participation.\" *He motioned towards a neatly scrawled question, supposedly from the textbook given. Gaze intensifying, Hari's eyes expectantly dimmed at the student.*" }, { "author": " . TOMOYASU CHIKAZOKU ", "message": "*𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐎𝐘𝐀𝐒𝐔'𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐈𝐒 usually decently good. He has always prided himself on his ability to remember details and important information. However, there was one particular instance where he found himself struggling to recall something that should have been ingrained in his mind - the appearance of Professor Kurono. Professor Kurono had a distinct and memorable look. Tomoyasu could vividly picture his beautiful thin grey eyes, which seemed to hold a depth of knowledge and wisdom within them. What he didn't remember was his strangely pointed hair added an element of uniqueness to his overall look, making him stand out from the rest. And looking at the otheres body under that dull outfit - was certainly one worth remembering, although Tomoyasu acknowledged that he would probably look even better without clothes on. ||adult virgin moment|| This realization caused him to pause for a moment, trying to process the unexpected connection between his mental image and the person standing before him in class. A wave of embarrassment washed over Tomoyasu as he felt heat creeping up his cheeks.*\n\n*Physical class was always a challenging experience for Tomoyasu. The constant chatter of his fellow students seemed to invade his senses, distracting him from focusing on the lesson at hand. As if that wasn't enough, there was something about the air in that room that triggered a light headache within him, gradually intensifying into an agonizing pounding inside his skull. It felt as though someone were relentlessly hammering away at his temples, leaving him longing for relief. In moments like these, Tomoyasu fantasized about releasing all this pent-up frustration by repeatedly slamming his head against a solid brick wall until it brought sweet release from the torment coursing through his mind. The mere thought of such drastic measures highlighted just how overwhelming physical class could be for him.*\n\n_ _ \n*As Tomoyasu sat in the classroom, his mind filled with turmoil and worry, he struggled to focus on the lecture being delivered by his professor. Only a few words managed to penetrate through the fog of his troubled thoughts, causing him to momentarily pause and reach for his notebook to jot down a quick note-to-self. However, despite these sporadic attempts at engagement, Tomoyasu's attention remained fixated on the yakuza member who also happened to be his teacher. His eyes, obscured by hair across his face, remained locked onto this figure before him. There was an invisible magnetic force drawing Tomoyasu towards this intriguing professor, making it difficult for him to divert his gaze or fully absorb any other information in that moment.*\n\n*Tomoyasu's eyes were completely fixated on the paper in front of him as he fervently scribbled down yet another note-to-self. The subject at hand was none other than evolution, a topic that never failed to pique his curiosity and ignite his passion for learning. Tomoyasu had always been drawn to exploring subjects beyond what was taught within the confines of the classroom, consistently going out of his way to delve deeper into areas that captivated him.*\n\n*Earlier, as he settled into the comfort of his desk, he noticed a textbook waiting patiently for him. Its pages were filled with thought-provoking questions that would undoubtedly test his knowledge and understanding. Interestingly enough, upon glancing through the chapters, he discovered that many of these inquiries had already been diligently answered by none other than Tomoyasu. It was astonishing to realize that this subject matter resonated so deeply within him that it had become ingrained in his memory and understanding. The sheer depth of his familiarity with the topic made him feel both fortunate and eager to delve even further into its intricacies.*\n\n_ _\n*WHACK! The sharp sound of the light-grey haired professor's wooden ruler striking against the pristine whiteboard echoed through the classroom, instantly capturing Tomoyasu's undivided attention. As if jolted by an electric current, his spine straightened instinctively in response to the authoritative crack of the ruler meeting its target. The sudden impact reverberated within him, causing a surge of alertness. Every muscle in his body tensed momentarily as he prepared himself for what was to come next.*\n\n_ _\n*Tomoyasu's confidence shrivelled up like a deflated balloon the moment he caught sight of the other person's finger pointing directly at him. A wave of panic washed over him, causing his throat to constrict and making it difficult for him to swallow. The anxiety was so overwhelming that even the saliva in his mouth seemed to evaporate into thin air. His head involuntarily twitched, betraying the nervousness coursing through his veins as his eyes instinctively dropped down to the textbook in front of him, desperately seeking solace and distraction from the impending situation. His mind went completely blank, leaving him feeling utterly lost and disoriented. It was as if all the information he had meticulously studied had suddenly vanished from his memory. Frantically searching for any semblance of familiarity, he desperately tried to recall which chapter they were currently discussing. Frustration and panic started to consume him as profanities involuntarily escaped his lips in a moment of sheer frustration. In a last-ditch effort to regain some sense of direction, his eyes darted towards his notes scattered across the desk, hoping that they would provide some much-needed guidance amidst the chaos swirling within his mind. As Tomoyasu's eyes scanned through the pages of the book before him, he finally stumbled upon the precise location of his desired information. Page 2019 beckoned to him from within chapter 3, promising enlightenment and guidance. Eagerly tracing each line with precision and care, it didn't take long for Tomoyasu's gaze to land on line 4 – a crucial piece of knowledge that would undoubtedly bring clarity to his current predicament. In those fleeting moments of discovery, time seemed to stand still for Tomoyasu as he absorbed every word written on that particular line. The weighty significance of this revelation settled upon him like a comforting blanket.*\n\n_ _\n\"It's...\" *He finally managed to say, his voice coming out in a shy croak. The entire classroom fell silent, all eyes fixed on him, waiting for his response. Even the substitute teacher leaned forward with anticipation.* \"D. The answer is D.\" ||D FOR DICK||\n\n*As the silence lingered in the room, Tomoyasu cursed inwardly at himself, the word echoed loudly inside his mind:* \"Fuck.\" *He glanced around at the expectant faces surrounding him; their expressions ranged from surprise to confusion.*\n\n*Pity. His substitute teacher maintained a neutral expression but Tomoyasu could sense his disappointment too.*" }, { "author": " . HARI KURONO . ", "message": "**𝘈𝘭𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 𝘯𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘪 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘢𝘥𝘮𝘪𝘵, 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘰𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘭𝘦 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥.** *The slight bob of his Adam's apple, signifying his initial reaction to his predicament. Then, the anxious gaze changing. He watched Tomoyasu as he tried to quickly and discreetly flip through pages of the textbook, revealing that he hadn't been paying attention. A blank stare patiently awaited a response, the ruler sliding away from the whiteboard to rest over his front. It was unlike Tomoyasu to be this frazzled upon being asked a question, but then again, this had been the first time Hari experienced having the spooked student in class. *\n\n*Lips pursed as the silence grew thicker, and Tomoyasu had finally come to an end of skimming through his textbook, locating the answer. Kurono could see the small movement of the student's lips, yet he couldn't hear his voice, the answer coming out as a muted mumble. He could barely even hear, even though the classroom was well-equipped with acoustics that would help with hearing another from across the room. This meek silence would not do. *\n\n\"Sorry?\" *Hari, albeit confused, a bleak expression continued to plague his face, and he leaned forward ever so slightly. His black tie was not exempt from this movement, either, as it moved from its comfortable spot on Hari's chest to dangle from his neck. Even a silvery lock or two displacing itself from his face, darkening his expression in a way that accentuated his stern aura. *\"Speak up, Mr. Chikazoku. I certainly hope you don't expect me to walk up to your seat, and lean in close, just to hear your answer.\"\n_ _\n\n*That slipped off the tip of his tongue a bit too bitterly, Kurono noticed. Maybe there was still a prickling amount of frustration pent up inside of him from this morning. Returning his posture to a straight position, Hari cleared his throat, manicured fingers scratching against the sharp edge of the ruler.*\n\n\"... Well? Go on.\"" }, { "author": "aurrstar", "message": "FIC TJE FUCKONG FKNT" } ]

[ { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "**Yu Takeyama POV**\n\n``` 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕, 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚑... ```\n\nYu sighed, holding a drink in her hand. She swirled the red wine that she held as she took in the view around her. It was beautiful for sure, but she was almost... Bored right now. There were plenty of people there and plenty had tried to start a conversation with her, but they either got quickly intimidated by her or she got bored of whatever they decided to talk about. The sun was setting and she was getting ready to get a stronger drink. Maybe that would make things a little more fun. \n\n``` 𝙰𝚕𝚕 𝙸 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍! ```\n\nThe platinum blonde finished the rest of her glass and made her way over to the bar again. She leaned over onto the counter, raising her hand to wave the bartender over. Winking at the bartender, who seemed to be a pretty cute guy, she ordered a moscow mule with an extra shot of vodka. She just needed something to get her energy back up. Hell, she just won a great match, so she deserved a little bit more fun right now!\n\n``` 𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗'𝚝 𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕. ```\n\nThe sun was setting slowly but surely as she took a long sip of her cold drink. A smile grew on her face as she sighed gently now feeling a bit better than before. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she turned, leaning her back against the bar as she scoped out the rooftop. It seemed like everyone else here was having a great time, so she might as well too. Well, after she finishes this drink. Liquid confidence always got her blood pumping. Especially when she felt and looked really good. \n\n``` 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕! ```\n\n**Keigo POV**\n\nDrinking alone was downright depressing. Every two nights or so out of the week, he'd find himself here, lie to himself and say that it was a refreshing break away from normal life; really, it was just as boring as anything else. He sat by the counter of the bar as the sun abandoned the sky. Up above, crows cawed as they clumsily navigated the tiring sky. That envy hadn't left him since childhood; he wanted to be up there too, away from everything else in the world that made him drink, one cup, two cups, three, then four. His limbs were light, his head was too. He could feel himself stupidly smiling at everything and everyone. \n\nIt was enough to numb; his favorite painkiller, burning down his throat. Already, he'd begun to survey the occupied seats around him, knowing going home tonight wasn't an option, at least not alone. For the most part, he was bored to death; everyone here had been lucky enough to have company, someone to wrap an arm around and laugh with. Another sip of whiskey, the clinking of his glass as he set it down against the countertop, gestured pitifully for a refill. Someone had caught his eye and it seemed as though he'd caught theirs in turn. Momentarily, he looked away as his glass was slid across the counter, back to him. His eyes darted back up again. \n\nShe was pretty, the girl he'd locked eyes with. Already, the thought of bothering for company had him irritated. Toya was out, and busy and he was bored out of his mind in his absence. A little lonely too. Only left with himself, he was always reminded of the void he normally had to fight to try and fill. It was bullshit, honestly; feeling this way, struggling with this when people were dying down on the streets below.\n\nA tired huff escaped him as he forced himself from his seat and made his way over to the girl, who he, by then, had been staring at on and off for a solid few minutes. Her hair was almost white; a purer coloring of blonde than his own disheveled mess. She was dressed like a million bucks, exuded confidence and seemed just drunk enough to not laugh in his face, at least not immediately. In contrast to her, he wasn't anything special, at least not with the way he'd dressed and thrown himself together for the night. Pretty clothes usually weren't a priority to him though; he had other ways to get by with people. \n\n\"I don't mean to be too forward or anything, but you're drop dead gorgeous. Is there a reason you're sitting alone?\"\n\nHe mused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.\n\n**Yu POV**\n\n``` 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸'𝚖 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚏𝚏𝚒𝚌𝚞𝚕𝚝... ```\n\nShe had spotted the man across the bar as soon as she had arrived. She couldn't lie; he was attractive, but she never approached guys first. It usually sets up a bad mood. They don't like it when a woman makes the first move. So, she preferred to play it safe, especially if she noticed their eyes meeting more than once. She giggled as their eyes met, taking another swig of her drink before placing it on the counter and tapping it for another round. As she noticed him approaching, she knew she would need it. \n\n``` 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎'𝚜 𝚏𝚊𝚞𝚕𝚝. ```\n\nShe quickly swiped a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling as she took in the man completely. She hadn't gotten the best look at him yet, so she took a moment to really scan him. She felt a tap on her shoulder as her drink slid to her side. Thanking the bartender once more, she slipped him a five-dollar bill, knowing she would have plenty more drinks that night. She took another sip, the mint, and vodka coating her throat as he spoke. She chuckled, her smile growing as she placed the drink down nearby, making sure it was still within her line of sight. \n\n``` 𝙶𝚘𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚏𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚎 ```\n\nYu's voice was sultry and flirty, clearly interested as her purple eyes fluttered closed for only a moment. \n\n**\"Not really... I could ask you the same thing. You're not bad yourself, dear!\"**\n\nShe chuckled to herself, adjusting her dress as she pulled two bar stools over. Taking a seat, she offered him the one next to her. She was bored anyway, so what's the harm in talking a bit more? She never shied away from a good conversation anyway. She tossed her hair over her shoulder once more, placing her hand with freshly polished nails next to him. \n\n``` 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚋𝚎𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 ```" }, { "author": "onyxcrystal", "message": "I can send mine using her bot rq" }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "I'm good with whatever 👍" }, { "author": "onyxcrystal", "message": "I'm at school so I can't do it's fine 😭🫶\n\nSo I can respond before bed lol" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Her voice was rich and her words were oddly powerful, even if only wasted away on him. In fact, everything about her was rather endearing; she presented herself with undeniable pride; shoulders back, head held high. It was incredibly attractive, and he was starved to learn more beyond just the pretty face. More about... Whatever the hell her name was. Most of the time, everything else came before the names; a passing glance, empty words, a touch, a kiss, sex. Deciding whether or not she was worth the time or energy when he was horribly poor of both proved to be a challenge. \n\nAlmost immediately, she slid out a seat for him, wordlessly offering her time and attention, which he took with a small nod, a subtle smile. He waved down the bartender, ordered another whiskey, already well on his way to stupid drunk— the kind of drunk that incapacitates and only leaves thoughtless smiles and regrets for the mornings to follow.\n\n\"Thanks, but I can hardly hold a candle. Your outfit, everything you've got going on here...\" He started, gesturing dramatically to her; nothing in specific, just her. \"...It's absolutely stunning.\"\n\nAnother sip, burning down his throat, reddening his cheeks. \n\n\"I'm Keigo. You got a name, gorgeous?\"" }, { "author": "onyxcrystal", "message": "Lemme just rewrite this rq hold" }, { "author": "Yu Takeyama", "message": "``` 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕. ```\n\nShe was excited to see where this was going to go. This would quickly cure her boredom and maybe she could have some fun with it. The blonde watched as he moved, the confidence with a hint of insecurity told her a lot about who she was talking to. So, she straightened her back slightly, crossing her legs as she did, simply adjusting her posture to observe his reaction. This air of confidence and pride could easily rock the wrong kind of guy. It was one of her go-to moves.\n\n``` 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚘 𝚊𝚗𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎? ```\n\nShe smiled, twirling a stray piece of her hair with her finger. Tapping her foot in the air, she listened to him as he spoke. He was clearly very proud. That was always a good sign. Especially if she ended up interested in him. Well, she couldn't go that far yet. She didn't even know a lot about him. She just knew what she could read from him. Then, with her other free hand, she gently rubbed one of the larger bruises on her arm. It was purely unconscious, so if it ended up drawing any attention to her, she would simply shrug it off. \n\n``` 𝙱𝚞𝚢 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚖𝚘𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎? ```\n\nYu leaned forward, a sly smile on her face as she responded. Her voice was somewhat quieter, more sultry, and expressive now that she was more comfortable having a conversation with the man. \n\n**\"Well, aren't you a flirt?\"**, she chuckled, her cheeks reddening as they spoke. Somehow, he knew all the right things to say that just made her knees weak and they had barely spoken thus far. \n\nTrying to dim her red face, she sighed, looking away from him as she called over the bartender, ordering a refill for her drink. She spoke a bit more casually this time now that more people could hear what she had to say. \n\n**\"Yu Takeyama. Why do you wanna know?\"**\n\n``` 𝚆𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚖𝚎? ```" }, { "author": "onyxcrystal", "message": "THERE ugh I was having technical issues sobs" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "He hummed with amusement, the side of his cheek supported against an open palm, the point of his elbow pressed uncomfortably up against the bar countertop. His eyelids weighed heavy, one was open a little wider than the other. \n\n\"I donno... Maybe, just maybe you intrigue me...\"\n\nHe slurred around a small smile— a false, plastered smile that always strained the muscles in his face, strangely embarrassing. A liar all his life, the borders between reality and fiction were always neglected, ignored. It had become difficult to define the truth in his own words and actions. He found himself second guessing his every advance, though he knew the result would be the same no matter; he'd ruin her. Just like he ruins everything else.\n\n\"...Humour me, Yu. What's a lovely lady like you doing, wasting your time here? And alone? I'm shocked, truly.\"\n\nAnd he was. It actually was a bit of a surprise. Scum like himself? That's nothing. Every bar has its fair share of pitiful liquor starved leeches, but she wasn't that— at least she didn't seem to be. Note the blotchy purple of bruising against her forearm, the way she endlessly fidgeted with her hair. He'd been working with every type of person in the world for a lifetime and a bit now. He had a talent for cracking codes; every shift in a seat, every movement of the restless human hand, every silent tell in the eyes; joy, sadness, anxiety, a silent cry for help. The hard part; no matter what he saw in those eyes, it was worthless, for he was merely an actor with a pistol in his back pocket. Who lived, who died, it wasn't up to him in the end.\n\nWhat better use of such a skill, such a ruined, dehumanizing gaze, than to waste it away on this. On her. This code he had yet to crack." }, { "author": "Yu Takeyama", "message": "``` 𝙿𝚘𝚙 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚝𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚢... ```\n\nYu felt her face grow brighter, a small, yet genuine smile growing on her face. She shook her head, slightly rolling her eyes at the comment. Taking another long swig of her cold drink, she thought about her answer. In truth, she wasn't really sure herself. Why was she here? Well, she had free time on her hands and didn't have a fight coming up for another day or so, so this was the only thing she could think of to do. She was tired and sore, so alcohol calmed those aches and pains. It really was the most logical option. At least, when she was beaten and bruised. \n\n**\"Well, alcohol tends to calm down the muscles, you know? I'm a professional fighter, so I get sore and achy. This tends to help one way or another till I head home for the night! What about you? Any particular reason you're all alone tonight? It's almost suspicious that someone who looks like you is standing all by yourself.\"**\n\n``` 𝙱𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚢 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚗! ```\n\nShe had yet to notice anything particularly strange about the man in front of her. She adored his confidence and his demeanor, so she wanted to keep talking to him. If everything went well, maybe it would leave this bar. The blonde closed some of the distance between them, playing off of the rather flirtatious energy he was throwing her way. She was a bit tipsy and somewhat attracted to the person in front of her, so it made sense in her mind. She sighed, sliding the now empty cup away, indicating the end of her drinking for now. She wanted to give all of her attention to Keigo. At least, for now. \n\n``` 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖. ```\n\nRight now, she might seem naive or too trusting. Especially for a woman alone at a bar. In reality, she was very aware of what was going on. Every movement registered in her mind, putting it into the context of their current situation. That was part of the reason she was done drinking for the night. Yes, she wanted to make sure he had all of her attention, but she also wanted to make sure that she didn't let her guard down. Not yet. Again, she liked to act dumber than she was. It meant that no one expected a lot from her until they wanted to get to know her. Otherwise, she had no reason to put in that kind of effort. \n\n``` 𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝙸'𝚟𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚎𝚐𝚘. ```\n\nNonetheless, she made sure it was clear that she was engaged in their conversation, absent-mindedly brushing over the noticeable purple blemishes on her otherwise clear skin. She could never keep still for very long. Staying still just meant that you were being lazy or unproductive, so if she was doing something, she was worthy enough to take up space. Otherwise, she was simply a person taking up an area she didn't deserve yet. She would earn that. She always has and always will. No matter what anyone else says. \n\n``` 𝙸 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚒𝚝'𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚊 𝚋𝚒𝚐 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚕, 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑! ```" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "A fighter? Well, It made sense; those odd bruises, the definition in her forearms and biceps, the fantastic figure. He truly didn't hold a candle, shocking that she hadn't figured that out yet. She drank for pain. He did too, but it was different; a breed of pain not to be discussed here or anywhere else. A countless series of wounds that always bled, once outside, now buried beneath the bounds of ruined flesh. He was here to drink. He was alone because he didn't deserve the relief of company. There was very little in the world that he actually deserved.\n\nNo one needed to know that though. He was fine to stay simple. He noted the way Yu had leaned herself just a little closer, the way her eyes darted in the cautious search for flaws. Finally, he was able to define the coloring of those beautiful eyes of hers; some beautifully mixed deep shade of violet. \n\n\"I usually prefer to drink alone. I'm a bit selective of the company I keep...\" Selective was a horrible stretch when the only company he'd ever kept was Toya. \"...You caught my eye, though. You're incredibly captivating.\"\n\nIt would be tacky to keep drinking when she had already pushed her empty glass aside. He could have drowned himself in booze tonight. It would have been easy to sink beneath those bitter, numbing currents all over again; the poisonous cycle it was. In a way, Yu had saved him from himself, at least for tonight. He mirrored her, slid his empty glass across the countertop back to the bartender. No one ever had his full attention, but he could pretend. He was good at pretending.\n\n\"So, you're a professional badass..., you know, I wouldn't mind hearing more about that, if you'd be so inclined to share.\"" }, { "author": "Yu Takeyama", "message": "``` 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚖 𝚜𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚎 ```\n\nYu didn't think much about him sliding his drink away. In fact, she hadn't seen even a slight break in his character thus far. That was impressive, especially when he seemed to have been drinking throughout the night. She was a very observant woman, so any flaws that illuded her were either unimportant or the person hiding them was good at what they did. Either way, she didn't care right now. Maybe it was him or maybe it was the alcohol. She wasn't quite sure. Maybe she would find out or maybe she wouldn't. In all honesty, they would probably never see each other again, so why waste time doing something that doesn't matter, right? \n\n``` 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎 ```\n\nShe chuckled, waving off the comment as she took her scornful gaze away from the man in front of her. She was confident that nothing would go wrong between them, and if they did, she could wipe the floor with him. She knew that about most people she talked to. She was somewhat paranoid when she talked to new people, so this wasn't strange for her. Maybe to some, this thought process would be concerning, but when all you do is fight all day, both men and women, you get used to it. The blonde felt safe, at least for now.\n\n``` 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚎, 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 ```\n\n** \"Well, what do you wanna know? There's a lot to it. More than a lot of people think, actually. I could also include some experiences from *Before* I went professional.\" **\n\nShe raised a brow, curious as to what exactly he was so curious about. Many people usually wanted to avoid the conversation of her career. Some people found it strange or violent so it surprised her that anyone would ask about it first. That showed on her face. Other people also found her job scary. Her reddened knuckles and frequent bruises concerned both friends and strangers. Unless, of course, they were also fighters. She had a few friends like that. It was a huge comfort. \n\n``` 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 ```" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"Huh, no shit.\" He chuckled with surprise. She was actually willing to share. Most people weren't, and he certainly wasn't an exception; average bar dirtbag, trying to be mysterious, more unbearably irritating than anything. \"I want the full rundown. Before, during– all of it.\" His words were glazed with sweet excitement as he smiled this tight, strenuous smile that tugged up at the corners of his mouth, puppet strings to contort and control his features, put on a performance.\n\nHardly a moment had passed him and he was already craving another drink. Hook ups were one thing. Conversation? Actually working to romance a woman? That was another thing entirely. While he did have a knack for dealing with people, and laying on the charm, it was always a little exhausting. Most things were though. Most things were exhausting. \n\nFor too long, he'd acted and performed upon these terrible stages. Rooting around through the dusty bins of age old masks; his every role, his every character, every part he'd ever played– It was simply impossible to pick a single truth. These pretty lies were all too convincing; one liar to another, his life was stock full of filthy liars. Never before would he have predicted that he would become one of them though. These old bins were always so untidy whenever his being was doused in liquor. Which mask was he wearing now? Which Keigo would he be tonight? What face would be enough to make this one smile? What would be enough to please? \n\nHis gaze clashed against Yu's. Dazed and glassy golden eyes upon pretty purple. He was nothing but stupid smiles for this girl. Whether or not the smiles were real, he couldn't fully tell anymore." }, { "author": "Yu Takeyama", "message": "``` 𝙵𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚕𝚘𝚒𝚍 ```\n\nTo say Yu was curious about the man in front of her was an *Understatement*. A huge one. But, in order to get people to talk, you had to talk first. Get them comfortable and all that, right? That was at least what she heard from the hundreds of ridiculous cop shoes she watched when she was bored. The blonde swept her gaze over the shorter man in front of her one more time. Just to make sure nothing had changed while she spoke. He seemed trustworthy, at least, for now. She would just hint at a few things here and there and see how that landed before getting into the nitty gritty. Some people said they wanted to know everything, and they did until they found out what *Everything* Was.\n\n``` 𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝙸'𝚖 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚘𝚢𝚜 ```\n\n Well, here goes nothing. \n\n**\"Alright, if you say so. I started fighting in not the best places. When I was younger, you had to make money however you could, right? So, I got a decent cut of the pool whenever I won. Then, I could move on to bigger and better places.\"**\n\nShe paused, turning slightly as she waved the bartender over and ordered a tea. She was thirsty but didn't need any more liquor, so that would have to do. She made sure she could still see him through the corner of her eye just in case he decided now was the time to react to anything she had said thus far. So, her purple eyes stayed on his golden ones. Still as kind and comforting as ever.\n\n``` 𝙶𝚎𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝙸 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 '𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸 𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚝 ```\n\nAfter receiving her drink, she squeezed the lemon slice into the drink, resting it on the napkin afterward. Taking a long sip and staining the plastic straw, she sighed. If he had any follow-up questions after this, she would need to be hydrated. \n\n**\"From there I just kept getting bigger and stronger. I learned it was what I wanted to do. Therefore, I got safer and better informed. You live and you learn, right? I got a few scars but you gotta learn to live with it.\"**\n\nShe took another long draw from her glass. Her expression had turned almost melancholy as she spoke as if remembering a time long past. In truth, it wasn't that long ago at all. She had fought in one of those places in the last month. The flickering lights, loud yelling, and dirt floors just brought out something in her. Something those professional settings never could. Something she never wanted to lose. That was where she had started, after all. That would probably be where she ended, as well. At least, she hoped so. \n\n``` 𝙽𝚘𝚝 𝚋𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚍𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝 ```\n\nMaybe he would get that, but she didn't want to test that just yet. She had no reason to. So far, he seemed like a regular guy with a secret or two to hide. Nothing out of the ordinary, but something was different. Something about the way he spoke or the way he moved meant something. Yu just wasn't sure what that was just yet. She would find out eventually. Time would tell all. It always does. One way or another. \n\n``` 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝙸'𝚖 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢 ```" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "A world of pain hid in plain sight behind those words. He could sympathize with that desperation; the need to act, become a stranger to yourself simply to survive. Such need had been bloodying his hands and darkening his gaze for years. His job was all consuming, to some extent, it sounded as though she might understand; it was different, but there was something of a connection there. He wasn't being paid to throw his fists like she was, but he was fighting, he was fighting for his life. \n\nHe subtly nodded, head heavy with the weight of thought as those words finally settled into the cold night air, no longer followed by further explanation. \n\n\"Maybe I'm a broken record, but those scars of yours are beautiful. I mean, they're a part of you.\" \n\nHe'd be eyeing the bruises and subtle markings against her as she spoke. Indentations in the skin, lighter than the skin itself. Once broken, it's as though the flesh forgets how to be okay again. Strange how these markings, neglected by the eyes of most, hold such power; bearers of memory, shame, smiles, tears. \n\nWith a small hum of interest, he reached forward and laced his fingers with hers, thumb brushing against bruised knuckles, eyes locked, colours clashing, mixing as one.\n\n\"...Do you wanna get outta here?\"" }, { "author": "Yu Takeyama", "message": "``` ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Bubblegum Bitch ```\n\nShe sat silently for a moment as she sat with her own words. It had been a long time since she explained that to anybody in a very long time. She wasn't sure why she trusted this person so easily, but she did. It felt so natural. Maybe she saw part of herself in him or just felt something she hadn't felt since she started her career. *Comfort.* How strange is that? She really didn't know why all of this was happening, but it was, and Yu was in no hurry to stop it. \n\n``` 𝙶𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚙𝚒𝚗-𝚞𝚙, 𝚐𝚘𝚝 𝚊 𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚍𝚘𝚕𝚕 ```\n\nHer gaze fell to her hands as he spoke. She sighed, a small smile coming to her face as she remembered how she got each of the visible scars that decorated her skin. It could be from a fight that she signed up for or ones she didn't. Either way, they made her who she is. They motivated her to keep going. It showed her, that despite it all, she survived. Survived everything her mother did to her. Every single fight she was in. Every stone in her way. Sometimes she forgot she was a survivor.\n\n``` 𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝙸'𝚖 𝚍𝚞𝚖𝚋, 𝙸 𝚍𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚝 𝚊𝚕𝚕 ```\n\n**\"Well, thank you! That means a lot, I assure you. Especially as a taller and more muscular woman. I promise you, a lot of people think that's unattractive.\"**\n\nShe chuckled as she spoke, remembering a few comments she had gotten over the years. Excluding her career, she could be intimidating, and that tended to make people insecure. She really didn't care, but she likes to complain about it when she got the chance. This was different. She actually appretiated his opinion. It made her chest feel warm and her muscles relaxed. She had become so calm that she almost missed his offer. She would have if he hadn't grabbed her hand.\n\n``` 𝙲𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚢 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚛, 𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎, 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚋𝚎 𝚊𝚍𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚍 ```\n\nShe almost jumped but kept herself calm as her eyes rose to meet his, her face obviously flushing pink. A dumb smile appeared on her face as she squeezed his hand in return. \n\n**\"Yeah. That would be nice, actually,\"**\n\n``` 𝙸'𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞'𝚍 𝚍𝚒𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 ```" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "With that, he stood, stumbled a bit sluggishly to his feet in something of a dull, drunken haze. The tightrope line between coherent and happy that he constantly toyed and tampered with, barely balancing, always just short of falling. A familiar buzz in the head, not quite pleasant, but not unbearable either. A sense of warmth to rise up to the skin, tint his features in rosy red.\n\nMost of the time, this sort of shit was always a mistake. Everything was wrong and pointless when it wasn't with– The thought was massacred before it had the chance to poison his thoughts. Next to a beautiful, strong, intelligent woman like Yu, why the hell would that be the first place his mind drifts? He internally cursed himself for the thought. His mind was probably supposed to be running wild other things; thoughts of this woman and such. \n\nDragging himself back to reality, he lead Yu out by the hand, past the crowds, down the stairs, out the door. He'd held her hand tight, absentmindedly squeezed it a few more times. He couldn't help but fear that she'd notice; he wasn't willing to let go just yet. Even if it was the smallest gesture, something in him never knew to let go, something in him was desperate to hang on. Touch meant the world and then some; the warmth of another body, a short lived absence of loneliness.\n\nHe sought out his sanctuary in the physical; a childish need to feel something– something comforting that had always frustratingly lacked a name. He couldn't recall a single moment in his life that his anatomy hadn't craved kindness, touch of any sort at all. \n\nOut of the building, away from the clashing of countless voices, the gross warmth of mingling bodies. The wafting of cheap and expensive perfumes mixed with body odor. The chilled night air was bitter, nipping hungrily at sensitive flesh; a greedy monster the heaters from that rooftop could no longer protect neither him nor Yu from any longer. They were merely silhouettes in this dark, outlines hardly illuminated by the tired glow of nearby flickering lamplight. Keigo reached up with his unoccupied hand and his fingers brushed Yu's skin before he pressed his palm to the side of her cheek, raised her other hand– the hand he'd been holding tight for a few minutes –now to his lips, kissed softly against bruised knuckles, gaze never once abandoning her and those stunning eyes.\n\n\"You fascinate me, y'know.\"" }, { "author": "Yu Takeyama", "message": "``` 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚠 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚞𝚙 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚞𝚝 ```\n\nYu smiled as she was led out of the crowded building. She could tell something was going on in that head of his, so she didn't protest or speak as they made their way down to the ground below. She chuckled and returned the squeeze he gave her before just following behind, a small smile growing on her face as the wind seemed to pick up outside. She didn't notice until they were outside, of course, but as soon as her hair blew into her face and started to stick to her skin she knew she needed to get it out of the way. \n\n``` '𝙲𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝'𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 ```\n\nShe took her perfectly styled hair into her hands as she tied it up into a tight ponytail on the back of her head, only a few pieces framing her face. Well, that was time wasted earlier in the night, but who cares? It was going to get messed up anyway with a breeze like that. Nonetheless, she kept a smile on her face as she swept whatever stray hairs still stuck to her now reddened cheeks. She barely noticed him lift her hand to his mouth and didn't put anything together until she saw it for herself. Her free hand went to her face, trying to hide a somewhat flushed expression as she broke eye contact for only a moment. \n\n``` 𝚂𝚘 𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜 𝚖𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍! ```\n\nShe wasn't uncomfortable at all just... Surprised. No one had treated her like this before so this was uncharted territory. She squeezed his hand again, letting her hand fall down to her side as she let go, her face still tinted with a light pink from his actions. Maybe she could just say it was cold? She would come up with something. She always does. So, she crossed her arms over her chest, her embarrassed and coy look turned to a teasing and almost sly expression. She had to keep her cool. \n\n**\"Oh? And why's that, pretty boy?\"**\n\n``` 𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚙𝚘𝚙 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚋𝚞𝚋𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚐𝚞𝚖 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝 ```" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"I donno. I'm sorta still tryna figure it out myself.\"\n\nAnd it was true to some extent. She wasn't a mystery— not by a long shot. Humans are simple and predictable animals that thrive in repetition, familiarity, stability, and, overall, something of a pattern to live by. You strip that from someone and the response is always predictable in itself; watch a person crumble and collapse. No one is anything without a sense of knowing to lean on. He knew in himself that he was no exception, though he was born collapsed and crumbled; poor of all the fundamentals of human nature. It left him distant. It left him as a bystander. The world must have figured something out about him before he did himself, being set with a job like this; housed and fed simply to watch the patterns of people, strip them of that repetition when the time is right and fall into his own self made pattern of aching in the aftermath. Yu lived to fight; he'd gathered that as soon as she'd opened her mouth to speak. It didn't matter if she was using her head, her voice or her fists; she was a fighter. That was her pattern, that was her vice. It was a destructive pattern but a pattern nonetheless. \n\n\"Not many people manage to fascinate me, Y'know.\"\n\nThe hand that had been holding the side of her cheek grazed a little lower and his thumb brushed and teased at her bottom lip as his eyes darted. He knew what he was supposed to do. He knew what was expected of him here, both from himself and from her, so he did it, no problem doing it. She was a vision of beauty and he only wished to learn more, become more immersed in the story of her. He leaned in a little closer, smallest step forward. His lips brushed before they pressed to hers, his head just slightly tilted to one side. It was short lived; three seconds, maybe five before he left and allowed his warmth to drift from hers just barely. Their breaths still clashed. He was still close. The biting cold had returned though. Those three, five seconds, it seemed that it had somehow vanished. \n\n\"...What do you say we go for a walk? Keep the night going?\"" } ]

[ { "author": " Shin Takara ", "message": "Shion softly huffed. Holding a cake that looked delicious. It was a decadent chocolate cake with some white chocolate accents. He had done his absolute best to make sure Katsuki couldn't even dare to claim it wasn't tasty. He had worn a particularly comfortable outfit. A long, just below the knee length dress, and the comfiest pair of Mary Janes he could possibly have gotten. \n\nHe frowned and knocked on the door. Tapping his foot softly against the ground as he waited for the door to ultimately open. Kori reached up with his paw and gently tapped Shions hand. Fuck why now of all times? Shion reluctantly sat back down and knocked on the door yet again. His arms felt weak and so he had no other choice but to place the cake in the ground. \n\n\"Open the door dickwad! Or I'm going to leave and throw this cake into the fucking trash!\"\n\nThis was the worst. Shion hated nothing more than being seen as weak. He turned and gently gave Maki a few pets. Allowing the dogs to help him even out his heart rate and even take a sip of water from a small canteen that remained in their service dog vests. \n\nNo way in hell was Shion going to let this self obsessed nobody look down on him, and so, scowling yet again he morphed his face into a mask of confidence and arrogance. Though he couldn't help but mentally chuckle as he thought back to the insults he had hurled against the blonde who's door he was currently sitting in front of." }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "Another dark pencil mark he couldn't quite erase no matter how hard he worked at the paper. Dark stains against once pristine white sheets. The more he rubbed away at the paper, the more damage he left, the more it crinkled and ripped beneath the press of his fingertips. Pencil shavings, crumbled remnants of broken lead, and tiny rolled crumbs of used eraser littered his desktop. He wasn't in a good state for this, maybe it was dumb to try tonight. All he wanted was a fucking drink and he half hated himself for it.\n\nA knock at the door. The sound was muffled just like everything else. The absence of noise; every sound was so distant. Everyone and everything was always mumbling, always irritating. Listening was shitty. The tiny machines haphazardly hooked into his ears barely did shit besides gather up earwax. He could never tell if he longed for sound or absolute silence, but the gray area was torturous.\n\n\"I'm coming, you intolerant shit!!\"\n\nHe'd almost forgotten about that bastard— well, not forgotten. They were hard to forget when they were so constantly blowing up his phone, at this point, the only notifications he had to look forward to. He wasn't ready for company though; he'd showered, hardly dressed and rushed to his desk seconds after to devote himself to schoolwork. His hair was still sopping wet, he'd only tugged on a pair of boxers, draped a small towel around his shoulders. Rushing for the door, he threw on a ratty pair of sweats, an old shirt over his arms, over his head. When he swung the door open, he was already mildly breathless, though that obviously didn't stop him from scrutinizing the other from head to toe. Was that a dress...?\n\n\"Fuck, you look even worse in person.\"\n\nHe sneered, a small smirk tearing at the seams. He knelt down and took the cake up in hand before subtly nodding the other inside, actions accompanied by a disgruntled eye roll." }, { "author": " Shin Takara ", "message": "Shion scowled as the door open and Katsuki semi loomed over him. With the assistance of his dogs the pink haired male got to his feet and quietly walked into the room. Instantly sitting down on one of Katsukis chairs without a care for formalities. Kori and Maki sniffing at Katsuki for a few moments before returning to their resting position of laying at Shions feet. The two massive malamutes shared some whines but that was it from them.\n\nHe leaned back and yawned. Popping a piece of candy in afterwards. It was sweet and strawberry creme flavored, his favorite. Turning towards the desk Shion observed the messy sheet of paper. Glancing at the mathematics problems that filled the page. Shion chuckled slightly, it was a sweet sound. Most things were sweet when it came to Shion. His scent, his tastes, and a bit of his personality was too sweet for his own good. \n\n\"Really? You can't do a few simple algebra two problems? I knew you were pathetic but I didn't think you were *That* Bad. You fucking loser.\"\n\nShion laughed at the top of his lungs. His laughter making his stomach ache and ultimately his dogs pulled him to the ground to try and even out his breathing. Once he was finally settled he pulled out a notepad and a pen. Already jotting down the problems before turning towards Katsuki. As much as Shion loved beating others it wasn't gratifying unless there was actually a fight. Something to quarrel over, something that would force the best out of two people, and Katsuki not being able to finish some simple math work wasn't going to give Shion the desired fight he wished for. Sure maybe he could have it with Momo or Iida but they were always such good sports. Shion wanted to argue, and when he wanted to argue, he went to Katsuki, like any sane person would of course. \n\n\n\"Come on, you're just gonna sit there? Serve me and yourself a slice of cake and then come sit down, you can't be *More* Stupid than you are now. That would rob me of a perfect victory!\"\n\nShion was going to win." }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "\"Since you asked so fucking nicely...\"\n\nFive seconds in– not a greeting, not even a nod of acknowledgement –they had the audacity to walk in, show him up as if they were the shit. What a pretentious asshole. Even worse in person; so entitled, self obsessed, unapproachable, irritating... Why did all of that somehow ring a bell? Furrowed brows and a narrowed gaze, he shot daggers in the other's direction before turning his attention over to his newfound business in serving up both himself and the other a few slices of strawberry adorned cake. Its sweet scent stuffed the stagnant air of the dorm room; creamy whipped icing, a fluffy sponge base. The strawberries were candied in a glaze of sugary syrup. It looked incredibly appetizing but the other boy didn't need to know that. God knew any credit this guy got would dart directly to his already overly swollen ego. \n\nRummaging his backpack, he managed to dig up a plastic knife he usually packed but almost never touched for his school lunches. He put it to some good use for the first time in months and sliced it smoothly into the cake, carved out the first slice, then the second, then a third just in case he or the other wished to return for more at some point. Fuck, no plates. Would have to make due. He sighed and carried the tray of sweetness over to his desktop, where he set it down before the other and shot them an expectant glare.\n\n\"Eat first. Bet you fucking poisoned it or spat in it or some shit.\"\n\nHe grumbled as he found himself a seat at the foot of his bed, kicking his legs back and forth against the matress every now and then." }, { "author": " Shin Takara ", "message": "Shion ignored the snarky remark and happily took a large bite of the cake. Humming pleasantly when the cake he had made was absolutely perfect. Turnings towards Katsuki and giving him a bored. \"Is this good enough for you\" Stare. He alternated between scribbling down little notes about the work on Katsuki's desk. \n\nThe pink haired teen allowed himself to slump against his dogs. He had grown just a little cold, fortunately Kori and Maki were heaters. Shion took yet another bite of his cake, enjoying the flavors before speaking yet again. \"It's not poisoned dickwad. Why would I ruin a perfectly good cake? Plus, I'm not that pathetic, if I wanted to poison you'd I'd make you straight up drink it. It's more of a hassle for me to bake an entire cake just to poison *You*.\"\n\nHe huffed, taking yet another bite of his cake and then bringing his fork to take yet another angry bite. Only he was met with the cardboard bottom of the cake box. His frown deepened and Shion looked up at Katsuki. Holding out his hand for something that he had yet to explain. This went on for a few minutes until Shion finally spoke.\n\n\"Give me the fucking knife! I want to cut myself another slice of cake! Since you cut little bitch slices. Plus, I brought it, I made it, so I can have as much of it as I'd like to!\" \n\nWith a huff Shion snatched the knife from Katsuki's hand, making sure that neither of them got cut before cutting himself yet another slice of cake and peacefully going back to eating. He seemed relaxed as he finished his second slice of cake and then turned back to his notepad. \"So, you really don't get this? I mean it's just some simple inequalities problems. You really are just a hot head, I should've guessed that since all you do is just blow hot air all day. Now come sit down so I can fix your pitiful attempts at this.\"" }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "\"Why are you so mad over a stupid cake? Take it if you want it that bad, for fucks sake...\" He scoffed as the other snatched the small plastic knife from his hand. Their attitude sucked. Being around them was like tiptoeing around a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. The two fluff balls with the beady eyes weren't helping. What did they have to do with anything? Why were they here? Fuck, it was just more cleanup for when this bastard leaves, if they decide to leave, that is. Did he actually want them gone? They served their purpose, the fucking cake was here. So, why was it so difficult to shoo them away now? Why hadn't he blocked them to begin with? Why was this so strangely confusing? \n\n*Get the fuck out.*\n\nThose words were balancing on the very tip of his tongue. He swallowed them down, a bitter aftertaste to contrast the tooth rotting sweetness of the soft and spongy cake he'd begun to shovel past his lips.\n\nIt was almost pleasant enough to allow him the luxury of calm. The luxury of forgetting. Key word; *Almost*. Back to the mess. Those dogs were gonna shed all over, and, judging by the awful head of pink on the other boy, he wouldn't be any better. A terrible stewing mix of hair, cake crumbs, rolled eraser remnants, and dusty remains of pencil lead. Gross. \n\nHe finished his slice and turned focus over to the other who, unsurprisingly as ever, was still prodding like a thorn in his side. He was half hoping they'd be a fucking wimp in person but they were exactly as they presented over the phone and he sorta hated it. There wasn't much he could pick apart that he hadn't already.\n\nNot the stupid pastel hair, not the dress that dated straight back into the medieval era, not the two dumb dogs, not the bitchy try hard demeanour. All those insults were sorta tired.\n\n\"I get it just fucking fine, you ass. Anything you wanna show me, I already know.\"\n\nIn spite of the string of insulting grumbles and grunts that left him, he, with some hesitation, eventually joined by the others side after taking up his homework and pencil in hand for review.\n\nTruth; he hated math. He wasn't that bad at it or anything, he just hated it. It didn't come naturally like everything else; he had to work harder, strain more for stupidly *Simplistic* Answers. Science wasn't like this, neither was English. Thing is; the concepts handled in those classes are consistent. The contrasting concepts in math are not. The rules always change according to the say-so of some old guy from before the pyramids were built. There's no pattern, the structure is unsteady. There's nothing to understand beforehand because the math is ever changing; constantly becoming more complex, tedious. The equations become longer and lose the logic. Everything about it was frustrating and dumb but Shion didn't need to know how he felt about any of that shit. He peered over the other boys shoulder as they scratched away at their notepad. \n\n\"Whatever you're writing, I bet it's wrong.\"\n\nHe teased, snickering the words." }, { "author": " Shin Takara ", "message": "Shion scowled at the comment, then pulled out his phone, opened the calculator and typed in the equation. Once he was finished he put his answer on paper up alongside the calculators answer. It was exactly the same, all the way to the thousandth decimal place. His face turned into a smug smirk, it was of triumph. Math always came easy to him, it wasn't as hard as English, there was right and there was wrong. No in between, there were not situations in which everything was right, and Shion enjoyed it that way.\n\n\"What was that about my math being wrong? Plus, math is easy, you don't have to think about philosophical stuff, the endless possibilities of things. Sixth math you have one answer, two answers, an infinite amount of answers or no answers at all. There's wrong answers and right answers, and that's how stuff should be. \"\n\nShion took a breath before flipping to a new page and correcting more or Katsuki's work. He was begrudgingly impressed, even if he wasn't getting the answers correct the proper work was there, and he wouldn't claim any faults in that. His hand wavered and Shion decided he needed to lay down. Slumping even further against Kori and Maki the pink haired teen let out a sigh. Fuck, he was tired again. Both of the dogs curled further into him, but not before giving Katsuki a few, very cute looks. \n\n\"They're service dogs dickwad. I'm not that much of an asshole to bring two random dogs into a school. They're trained to monitor my heart rate and alert me when I might pass out. Plus, they're super comfy.\"\n\nHs didn't know how it happened but Shion found himself semi enjoying Katsuki's company. It frustrated him, he had no idea why, maybe it was because he was lonely but he had never enjoyed the company of Momo and Iida in the same way he was unfortunately enjoying the blondes. He would think about this, maybe contemplate his options, in private. Most definitely not in the company of his childhood stuffed animals. He was much more mature than that." }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "\"You're such a fucking ass...\"\n\nHe huffed, his ego stinging just a little as he watched the other erase and write over some of his errors. Notable though, the way they paused at some parts. It didn't seem that they were stopping because they too were caught up in the tangled netting of the questions, but something else. Their gaze burned into the chicken scratch responses marked messily against the crisp white. Why did they care? Why did they care about any of this, in fact? Why bother? They gained nothing in doing this and, if it was an inflation to their ego, it was a painfully minor one, hardly worth all this time and energy. \n\nFor a moment, their shoulders brushed and for a moment, his gaze dragged against them. That moment, insults and disgust weren't the very first things to surface in his mind; he wasn't really sure what was on his mind in that moment, actually. Thoughts he had yet to decipher; probably nonsense.\n\nBest to shrug it aside. \n\n\"I wasn't asking. You're so defensive over every goddamn thing.\"\n\nHe had taken his seat next to the other, leaned back on the ground, back rested against the side of his bed. He shot Shion then the two dogs a weak glare before tiredly tilting his head back, allowing it to rest lightly against the mattress.\n\n\"You're not planning on conking the fuck out here, are you? This isn't a goddamn hotel, find some other place or some other poor bastard to mooch off of.\"\n\nThe words lacked sincerity, filler for the silence. He didn't intend for it to hold any meaning beyond what was simply said, but he couldn't help but almost hope they'd reject the statement entirely. Sometimes it was nice not to be lonely, even if the company he kept was a cause for grey hairs." }, { "author": " Shin Takara ", "message": "\"What if I do? I'm not mooching, I'm just extending a visit. Plus it's kinda wrong to kick out someone with an illness that requires them to sleep. Im a quiet sleeper, though I'm pretty sure you're some sort of super loud snorer.\"\n\nShion continued to mindlessly correct Katsuki's work, jotting down little helpful notes here and there. Once he finished Shion reached up and placed the paper back onto the desk. Stretching his arms above his head until they gave a tiny little cracking sound. Then he curled right up against his dogs. Jotting down little notes about Katsuki's room in his fairly small sketch pad. Minor comments about the scent, the general aesthetic, other various things. Then shin just slowly started to jot down information about Katsuki. His estimated height, hair color, and other things, angry little scribbles about how much he hated him, along with theories on why he enjoyed his company so much. His favorite one was the \"I've been bewitched\" Theory. It made him giggle just a bit. His enthusiasm was cut short and so with a bit of a frown he responded. \n\n\"Plus, if I really wanted to sleep I'd go to my own bed, it's much more comfortable. With a lot more plushies, and some really comfy blankets.\"\n\nThe pink haired teen sunk further into his dogs. A soft smile appearing on his face, he had found himself insanely comfortable in the company of Katsuki. It was unusual, no person had instantly made Shion truly *Relax*. His body felt extremely at ease, no tension was in his body in the slightest. Another large yawn left Shion and he looked towards Katsuki. Maybe he would be able to weasel out a bit of information in exchange for fixing Katsuki's absolutely atrocious math work. It was only fair that since Shion did something for Katsuki that he should be given something in return. Plus, the government teacher was unusually harsh with him. Mainly for no reason.\n\n_ _ \n\"Do you have the government notes? She'll go wild on my ass if she finds out that I'm not doing them.\"" } ]

[ { "author": "kesshune", "message": "No actually it's black/j" }, { "author": "Saikik Nakamura ", "message": "Saikiko hadn't turned back. He couldn't, he would never dare to look back at the face that had experienced his shame. He was shameful. Pitiful. Tears clouded his vision as he struggled to unlock his door. Surely his neighbors would be hearing this but he didn't care. His mind still locked onto the fact of what he had done. He couldn't breathe, he was taking breaths but no air was entering his lungs. They were going to come get him, **They were right behind him!**\n\nJust then he had finally managed to smash the key into the lock, and open his door. He ran inside and slammed himself against the door. The lock clicking shut assured him he was safe yet his mind refused to calm. This was the reason he wasn't allowed around others, his parents were right, he was a freak. He couldn't even stay a freak within his own social class, he dared to contaminate someone above him, someone who was superior to him. \n\nHis hands tore at his hair, pulling out those sweet pink locks, his head hurt, his nails bled from how hard he was gripping onto his own body. The tears continued to flow and he could do nothing. He was nothing... He had finally lived up to his expectations. His pretty painted nails were cracked, pouring his filthy blood all over the place. He wasn't worthy of what he did, nor was he even worthier of daring to think they could become friends. \n\n\"I'm sorry... I'm unworthy. Please forgive me father, mother, the heavens above. I have committed a grave sin. I will punish myself for it. I will repent. I will no longer think such impure and selfish thoughts.\" \n\nWith a dangerous calm he pulled out the needle, it had small remnants from the last time he had to curb the thoughts. He removed his shoes, then his socks, and then finally rolled up his skirt. His legs were littered with hand carved words. The bandages on the newest ones still a little bloody. No worries, he would add more in just a moment. His hand, steadily calm through the stinging pain carved the word \n\n``REPENT``" }, { "author": "kesshune", "message": "BTW TW FOR ||SELF HARM||" }, { "author": "@Saikikre ", "message": "``𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐒: 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍``\n\nSaikiko was smiling at his phone, something that he hadn't done in days. Then with the words \"I'm on the way\" He bolted up. Pulling himself out of bed and quickly attempting to hide and throw away the various meals his parents had sent throughout the past week. He threw his discarded sketches into a box and shoved it into his closet. Making sure that everything looked presentable. He rewrapped his bandages and donned a long cardigan and an ankle length skirt. Making sure to mask that metallic scent with some sweetly scented candles. \n\nFinally relaxing Saikiko realized something, his legs felt weak. His head hurt and Saikiko was pretty sure his eyes had insane bags and his face was red and splotchy. He was always like that after repenting sessions. With a small sigh he grabbed onto an odd looking cat plush. It's eyes were uneven and the seams looked messy, but Saikiko loved it, he had made it from scratch, and even if it was ugly the weird thing always gave him comfort. Saikiko was so proud when he made the creature, with its lopsided eyes and it's extra arm. His parents proclaimed it as hideous but Saikiko saw beauty in his creation, so he named it, Ayumu. That thing would hold his secrets, his traitorous thoughts. It would be his mannequin when he got into designing clothes, and ultimately it would be the thing Saikiko would comfort himself with. Inadvertently the pink haired teen had made a masterpiece, a creation filled with emotions poured onto it by its creator. \n\nHolding his aching head Saikiko got up and made sure to unlock the door and sitting in the doorway drawing in one of the smaller sketch boots he had. Filled with his sorrowful little drawings. His eyelids slowly closed, the exhaustion from the countless sleepless nights finally taking his toll on him. Saikiko relaxed, fully, giving himself entirely up to the sweet embrace of Hypnos. *All the while waiting for Iida to arrive.*" }, { "author": "divaki", "message": "WRITING RN LOVE <3333 /p" }, { "author": ".TENYA IIDA .", "message": "*Tenya, unlike Saikiko, who'd been storing himself away in his room, was taking a run on the track field, supplying himself with some fresh air after an extensive study session by himself. After all, preparing for upcoming exams was important to him, even if said exams weren't for at least another couple of weeks. With his windbreaker vest to protect him from the fall breeze, and sweatpants thin enough to allow his legs to breathe, the class president almost had a moment where he'd felt unstoppable. Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. Yes, that was something it had done often, as classmates often shared discussion in the school group chat, and that was the only one he'd had muted, but this time the device had made a sound it didn't usually make. Pulling the phone out, Tenya let out a chilled pant as he slowed his sprint to a leisurely stroll.*\n\n```\n_ _\n\n*Now that was a shocking message. Stopping dead in his tracks, Tenya almost too hastily accepted the request, his hands shaking. Why? He couldn't if it was from shock, excitement, or the chilly climate that surrounded him. The two exchanged messages for quite a while, and that foreign feeling he'd felt too long ago rose up again in his stomach, making him ill with happiness. Genuinely, he felt as if he'd vomit out the fury of emotions he'd been feeling. And it seemed as if Nakamura had been feeling the same way as he did; regret for how they'd acted, they'd both been immature, Nakamura in a way of running away, and Tenya by means of avoiding him once he ran. Once he'd been informed that Saikiko had not been feeling well, Tenya was more than insistent on warming up some beef stew he'd made the day before, as classmates had been getting sick left and right, and he wanted to make sure they would have something that would settle on their stomachs. Loving the stew as well, he'd saved some for himself, but upon discovering Saikiko had been ill, he became more than willing to share what was left. *\n\n*From standing outside in the brisk cold air, to standing in the dorm kitchen, with a pot of beef stew on the stove, the warmth lapping over his face filled his with a sense of comfort, and the tingle of the coldness ebbing away became nothing more than a mere buzz that lingered on his cheeks, and once the soup was hot and ready, he meticulously wrapped it up in a bowl with cling wrap, and once satisfied with the presentation of the bowl, he made his way to Saikiko's dorm. Except, he didn't know where said dorm was, and ended up asking a student he recognized as someone from class 2-C where the pink-haired artist's room had been located. Luckily enough, the student was more than willing to show Iida to the room, and once there, he was given a small nod and smile from the classmate, leaving the class representative to his privacy with Saikiko...*\n\n_ _\n*... Who was sleeping in the doorframe.*\n\n*Just standing there, Tenya examined the other, tilting his head slightly to the side. Saikiko had been wearing an oversized cardigan, and was also donning a rather long skirt, shrouding most of his body away from sight. It was a rather chilly day, but it surely wasn't winter-wear weather. And it didn't take long for Tenya to notice the bags under Nakamura's eyes, giving away the artist's lack of sleep. Yes, Saikiko had been ill, but this was far from what Iida had been expecting. He leaned forward, just enough to catch the tainted scent of chocolate, an odd smell mingling with scented candles. But, he paid no mind; he had other things to do, such as attempting to peacefully wake up the sleeping beauty.*\n\n\".. Nakamura.\" *He muttered lowly, his voice barely a whisper.*\n\n\".... Nakamura, wake up. I have stew.\" *Pity the smell of the stew was covered by a few layers of plastic wrap. Tenya used a barely free elbow to gently nudge Saikiko, brows furrowing slightly. His face was hardened in his usual stern glare, yet there was a softer edge to it, worry, maybe, but what had been first and foremost in his mind was his duty; to make Nakamura feel better.*" }, { "author": "Saikik Nakamura ", "message": "Saikiko slowly awoke, his throbbing headache now having faded away into nothingness yet again. He quietly groaned and attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes. His hair not in its usual ponytail now having pooled around his shoulders. Finally blinking the sleep fully away from his eyes Saikiko turned and saw Iida. His face instantly flushed from the embarrassments and he had frantically got up, unknowingly causing the bandages wrapped around his legs to flash. \n\n\"Ah, I'm sorry, I fell asleep, I haven't been sleeping too well. How rude of me, come in come in.\"\n\nThe pink haired teen slightly wobbled into the room on unsteady legs. The feeling of his body feeling woozy still was growing. He quickly allowed Iida to seat himself in Saikikos desk chair while Saikiko carefully attempted to make the two of them a cup of tea. His hands were shaky and he could barely transfer the full kettle of water to its little heating stand. Making sure to press the \"Heat\" Button before flopping back down onto his bed and allow his now screaming joints to rest. In his semi dazed state he had rolled up his sleeves just slightly for a few moments, but long enough that if you were staring it was clear his arms were very much so bandaged. \n\n\"Can I have the stew? I've got a bit of a sore throat at the moment and I'm sure it will be delic-\"\n\nHe couldn't even get through the second part of his sentence before he had a coughing fit. Turning away from Iida to cough harshly. The moment the fit had stopped Saikiko cleared his throat and wiped away a few tears welling up in his eyes. The kettle finally started to steam and make a high pitched whistling sound. Attempting to get up he slightly stumbled before untimarely stabilizing himself and making his way to the kettle. Pulling out two cups and two bags of lemon tea Saikiko began to quietly prepare the tea, and once it was done Saikiko gently set the cup down in front of Iida before quietly going back to his bed. Taking a sip he softly spoke.\n\n_ _ \nWhat did you want to talk about?" }, { "author": ".TENYA IIDA .", "message": "***𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚂𝚊𝚒𝚔𝚒𝚔𝚘 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚞𝚙 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 \"𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚛 \" 𝚖𝚘𝚍𝚎 ,** Hands cautiously ghosting around Nakamura body with great precision (and enough distance), all to make sure he had no troubles standing up. Though he caught a glimpse of slightly stained bandages wrapped around the other's legs, Iida refused to utter a word to the weaker one, rather making a gentle grunt to acknowledge Saikiko's words. It was apparent through Iida's slight reluctance to leave Nakamura's side that he had most definitely had been worried about him. He allowed a sigh to leave his lips as the other insisted on Tenya taking a seat. *\n\n\"Be careful,\" *He warned, his voice barely above an indistinct whisper, so he hadn't been sure that Nakamura heard him.*\n\n*Taking his seat, Tenya kept a watchful eye on the pink haired male. He wanted to fret over him, beg for him to lay down, so he could take care of him and the tea; but Saikiko's stubborn behaviour left Tenya seated in the desk chair, without much to do other than hold the container of stew. Watching Saikiko lay down, the two stayed in an uncomfortable moment of silence before Nakamura spoke up. He asked about the stew. *\n_ _\n\n\"Oh, y-\" *About to cut Nakamura off by handing out the warm bowl of stew, the sickly other seemed to get to that before him, bursting out into a coughing fit. And Tenya, with a shocked expression, placed the bowl down to carefully place his hand on Saikiko's shoulder, a firm hand attempting to stabilise the other. Lips slightly parted to suggest that Saiko take a rest, but the whistling of the tea kettle shut him down. A hand reached out to grab Nakamura's, but missed by a scarce inch, finger grabbing at air instead. The uncertainty in Iida's eyes most certainly showed through, but he bit his tongue, too afraid to say a word until Saikiko had finally sat down with his tea. The two were sitting next to each other now, shoulders barely grazing against one another, and The class president couldn't feel that same comforting warmth that he had felt a week or two ago when the \"Incident\" Happened. *\n\n**\"What did you want to talk about?\"** *Looks like the soup would have to wait a moment longer.*\n\n*Turning square blue eyes to pink ones, Iida found himself accidentally examining his face a little too closely. Maybe it would be best to set a small distance between them; after all, they had to discuss an important matter. Yet Tenya felt as if he didn't want to bring up what happened, especially with Nakamura's current state of well-being. Excuses, he told himself, it wasn't good to make excuses. They had to talk, to fix this situation, and set it right so they could both understand one another better.*\n\n\"Ah, yes. So, I understand that we'd settled things about what happened, but...\" *Tenya drew in a small inhale, there was to be no dancing around this subject.* \"Uhm, our status with each other. I want to... Establish where we stand, per se.\"" }, { "author": "Saikik Nakamura ", "message": "Saikiko's face grew pink at the mention of what they might be. His stomach churned not from hunger but from nervousness. He took a sip of his tea before placing it down. His hands shaky no uncertain. Saikiko knew how he felt, it was shameful but he couldn't help but deny it. That pathetic little crush eh had that he acted upon in a moment of weakness. \n\n\"Ah, I see. Well... I'm not going to deny it, I have *Feelings* For you. I understand if you do not feel the same or if you do not desire any sort of relationship with me, be it platonic or romantic.\"\n\nHe clasped his hands together and turned his head away, an attempt to hopefully ignore Iida's eyes, which seemed to burn through his soul. Truthfully he did care, Saikiko cared a little too much, but he knew that his feelings were just that *His*. Taking a deep breath he turned to Iida yet again. Even if they remained nothing more than acquaintances Saikiko could survive. Although it would break his heart Saikiko cared more for the feelings of Iida than he did for himself. \n\n\"I apologize if I made you uncomfortable by insinuating that *We* Could be in any sort of relationship. That was a slip of my tongue.\"\n\nSaikiko's fingers tapped against the mug, his legs hanging just slightly over the side of his bed. He took a look into the mug, the pale green liquid with its minty scent overtaking his senses in an attempt to keep his thoughts from drifting to Iida. His eyes moved up his hands and widened when he realized his bandaged arms had been revealed. Saikiko quickly adjusted them back into place and this time physically turned away. A cough emerged from his throat and he doubled over, his throat raw and achy. Once it subsided he just slightly turned towards Iida again. He hated lying but repentance was something he never shared. \n\n\"It was a failed soup attempt, silly me, I spilled the boiling pot all over. I guess that's a sign that I'm not destined to be a chef. Though I'm sure your food is absolutely delicious Iida.\"" } ]

[ { "author": "peachberri", "message": "Izuku is going to be surprised how huge his room is 😭\n\nLook at dekus crib!" }, { "author": "secret.track", "message": "Matress on the damn FLOOR\n\nAlso i think its big bc like shoto has like nothin in his room" }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "That is true ALSO GIRL HE SLEEPS ON THE FLOOR TOO" }, { "author": "secret.track", "message": "AT LEAZST ITS FUTON NOT A MATRESS" } ]

[ { "author": ".TENYA IIDA .", "message": "***𝚆𝚊𝚜 𝚒𝚝 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚗𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚢? 𝚈𝚎𝚜. 𝙱𝚞𝚝 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚊 𝚍𝚒𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎.***\n\n*Did Tenya forget to go out for his daily run? No, he just chose not to.*\n\n*Might there have been a schedule he had to deal with? Absolutely, but breaking his weekend schedule was valid if the willpower within him was strong enough.*\n\n*... This wasn't like him. Staying locked in his room all day, ignoring calls and texts, even cancelling a tutoring lesson! Iida himself knew this, but after collecting leftover breakfast from the lounge earlier this morning, he wanted nothing more than to hide away with his shame in his room. And it was tearing him from the inside out, the fact he couldn't find it in himself to open the door, head to the lounge, or even step foot outside, in fear of everyone taking one good look at him and knowing what he'd done. What they did.*\n\n*Okay, maybe it wasn't as bad as he thought it was. But it was still a shameful action, being kissed by someone who was nearly a stranger to him! Not only that, but his parents wouldn't ever condone the inner feelings Tenya had been experiencing, as the person he kissed was a man, above all things. He'd never thought he'd see the day where Iida would find himself being... Whatever he was feeling, towards the pink-haired artist. Whatever it was, it couldn't have been right, as it was foreign, and changes in what Iida knew best, his emotions, was not something he was going to take kindly to. Which is why he himself couldn't understand why he was letting this get to him! *\n_ _\n\n*Maybe he should apologise. For what, he wasn't sure. Splayed out on his bed, Tenya ran a hand through his hair, using the other to reach out for his phone. His blinds had been shut, so when the light of the phone's screen made itself known, it nearly blinded the man. A tear of pain left adjusting eyes, and he opened his text messages with Nakamura. Typing out a message, Tenya asked if the two could talk. Inner nerves screamed at him, telling him that interacting with him wasn't the best idea, at all. That it would just be best to leave him alone, and forget it ever happened. But he wanted oh-so desperately to resolve things between the two, after all, as a representative of U.A., a second year at that, it wouldn't be good if he weren't on good terms with someone from 2-C. Rolling onto his side, Tenya hit the send button. *\n\n**'𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙽𝙾𝚃 𝙱𝙴 𝙳𝙴𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙴𝙳. 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝚂 𝚄𝚂𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝙱𝙴𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙸𝙿𝙸𝙴𝙽𝚃 𝙸𝚂 𝙾𝙽𝙻𝚈 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝙿𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙼𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙰𝙶𝙴𝚂 𝙵𝚁𝙾𝙼 𝙳𝙸𝚁𝙴𝙲𝚃 𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳𝚂.'**\n\n*He... Unfriended him? Brows furrowing, a sinking feeling in his stomach unearthed within himself. He should have known he shouldn't have left the other muted for the past couple of days, yet he didn't expect this to happen. Returning to lying on his back, Tenya stared at the phone for a moment longer. He pressed the send button again. And of course that didn't work, as the same message made itself known. He got the point, and with an audible sigh, the phone slipped from Tenya's hands, falling softly onto his chest. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe talking to him wasn't the best idea. It would only cause more trouble for the both of them, anyways.*\n\n_ _\n*Okay, he's laid in bed long enough. Pulling himself from the bed, ruffled sheets stuck to his waist, following him off the bed. With a hushed sound of disappointment, Tenya began to tidy up his room, from the messy bed to even his already tidied-up desk. He opened the blinds and the windows, to allow the staleness of the air to flow out, welcoming the fresh fall breeze. *\n\n*Thanks to the presence of actual light in the room, Tenya was able to catch a glimpse of himself. Sensitive skin was reddened due to the prolonged amount of time he'd spent in bed that morning, and his hair was the definition of bedhead. Short and medium-length locks branched out every which way off his head, he looked nothing short of a righteous mess. Grabbing the brush on top of the vanity, Tenya tidied up his hair, coming to a decision that he'd have to go to the barber sometime soon. *\n\n*After primping and preening in the mirror, Iida took a seat at his desk, pulling out his sketchbook. Opening up the neatly decorated book, sketches of the same idea, yet different compositions filled his brain. He was planning on submitting an artwork for the competition, but he still had yet to come up with something that pleased him. So, pulling out his graphite pencil, he began to block out ideas, becoming lost in the worlds he was creating on paper.*" }, { "author": "Yuga Aoyama | Twinkles", "message": "*Yuga paused in his steps as he overheard something that caught his attention. Iida hasn't been seen in a while? That does seem unlike him. Yuga's eyebrows furrowed as he listened, becoming concerned for his classmate. Yuga knows of Tenya Iida, but he doesn't now him as well as some other students know him.*\n\n__\"Monsieur Iida, maybe my charming personality will cheer you up. Although I'm afraid you wouldn't want to see me, for I am not that close to you. I'm worried for you, it wouldn't hurt to check up on you.\"__ Yuga thought to himself as he lurked in the shadows, still eavesdropping on the random persons conversation.*\n\n*Yuga looked right at you, yes you, he smiled widely and then nodded. Signaling that he is walking to go check up on Tenya Iida. Yuga tends to do that, some people say he's weird because he looks at random places. Sometimes talking, sometimes just staring or nodding. Some find it creepy but it's known that Yuga likes to break the 4th wall once in a while. Yuga walked semi fast, hoping nothing too bad had happened that caused Iida to disappear. Not that he actually did but Yuga just thinks different. Yuga wouldn't know where to find Iida but he'll just check the first place that came to mind, the dorms. That's a lie, Yuga originally thought Iida would be in the library or something because Iida's a booksworm. Or something along those lines, maybe because Iida is always studying. At least that's Aoyamas perspective. Eventually arriving at Iida's dorm.*\n\n**\"Monsieur Iida? Bonjour, Are you in there??\"**" }, { "author": "@ Ingenium", "message": "*Graphite-stained hands danced in an effortless tango of creation, pencil bringing every idea trapped in that creative corner of Tenya's brain that is usually kept tucked away from most people. Most people would not suspect that the uptight male spent his 'me time' dabbling in the practice of fine arts. Sure, he's never sold a piece, and would never dare exhibit his art pieces to anyone who didn't know about his hidden talents. There was only one person he'd been comfortable with actively presenting his work to, and they weren't talking at the moment. Iida's train of thought wandered once more as he let his hands lead him on his journey of creation. *\n\n*And without thinking it, said hands drew that man, albeit in monochromatic colour, Tenya could still see the pink hue in long hair cascading gracefully down the sides of his face, those alluring rosy eyes catching even the artist off guard. The pencil fell from his hand as he stared at the sketch, stuck between shock and awe. Yes, the doodle might have exuded a sense of mourning from Iida's loss of a friendship, but simply put, it was beautiful. *\n\n*Oh dear, what was he thinking! Allowing his mind to wander like this was disrespectful, especially to him! To think of him in a way similar to Pygmalion and his statue, even Tenya's parents would be disappointed in his lack of discipline. The two had only been friends, and even that was still something Iida wasn't sure about, not after that. Head hanging low, Tenya prayed to whomever was up there, in the heavens. *\n_ _\n\n\"Please forgive me,\" *He uttered under his breath, a mute sigh escaping his lips. *\n\n*Maybe he'd been expecting the day to pass by without a knock on the door, hoping that his peers would understand his unspoken want to stay holed up in his room. Alas, he is the class president, and although his intense and strict presence may put off his classmates in a way, he's still a friend to them. Thus, there was no escaping at least one worried classmate. And, to Tenya's surprise, it wasn't Midoriya, or Uraraka, or even Shoto knocking on the bedroom door. 'Twas the sparkling Frenchman, Yuga Aoyama, who had actually been one of his peers since last year. *\n\n***\"Monsieur Iida? Bonjour, are you in there?\" **The overall peppiness of the voice took Tenya off guard, causing him to jolt in his seat. He'd nearly shot up from his desk, knees bumping into the handy table more than once as he pried himself from his little workstation. In haste, Tenya lunged for his closet, opening the doors and pulling out a quick ensemble of clothes; his favourite plain light blue polo and some greyish-brown slacks. Hastily throwing off his clothes, night-wear somehow falling into a neat pile next to his hamper, he slipped on his polo with ease, but as for his slacks, he couldn't say the same.*\n_ _\n\n\"Give me a moment!\" *Tenya called out, foot catching onto whatever was inside his left pant leg. Standing on one foot wasn't easy, and the class president was anything but graceful, so with one big tug, his leg went through the pant leg...*\n\n*But physics pulled him in the direction his arms tugged, and the next thing Iida knew, he was on the floor. Dazed from the fall, Tenya rested his head against the floor with a sigh. What was he doing down here again? It took a moment of silence for him to pull himself back together, but then he remembered the task at hand. Taking things more slowly, he sat up, shuffling around in a seated position as he carefully dressed his other leg. Pulling himself upwards, Tenya shook his head, attempting to lose the ringing headache he'd given himself. Grabbing the handle carefully, he turned the knob with one hand and used the other to fix his hair. Which, genuinely didn't help much. *\n\n\"Ah, Aoyama.\" *Blue eyes locked on golden ones with that familiar stern intensity, and Iida gave a hospitable smile in return for Aoyama's radiant grin.* \"... Is there something you need?\"\n\n*He stood in the doorway with a stiff posture, which completely contrasted his own appearance; messy hair, crumpled clothing, flushed face, and askew glasses was what Yuga had been met with, and it seemed like Tenya didn't seem to notice this about himself.*" }, { "author": "Yuga Aoyama | @Twinkles", "message": "*Yuga stood at the door fiddling with his white ruffled shirt, for it was wrinkled a bit. He used his hands to wipe off hair on his jeans. Yuga took a deep breath, he was about to interact with a fellow classmate. To which he wasn't personaly close with. Some could call them friends but Yuga mostly saw Iida as more of a acquaintance. Yuga was sure that it was mutual between the two.*\n\n*Yuga stood there awaiting for Iida to answer, if he was in the dorm. There was no way of knowing is Iida was actually here. Yuga's purple eyes yearning for answers of why Iida hadn't been seen for a while. A brain filled with worry and anxiety, Yuga did care a lot for his classmates. Maybe more than anyone could for him. Sighing heavily, almost thinking that Iida wasn't here. Yuga felt a small sense of guilt for himself, that even he didn't notice that Iida wasn't around. Yuga felt bad, he really did because he's always observes people. Although Yuga us barely online because he's mostly lurking throughout the school, listening to conversations.*\n\n__\"Oh Monsieur Iida, for what is troubling you!? Maybe some glitter would assist in your troublesss~\"✨__ \n\n*Yuga thought to himself as he put a hand onto his face, onto his cheek. With a face full of worry now. Suddenly Yuga heard a thump from coming from inside Iida's dorm. Yuga always refers to people by their last name unless stated otherwise, it's just out of respect to his classmates. Since he's not super close to anyone at the moment. Yuga felt a beam of hope come from within as he reached back and grabbed a small bottle. It contained blue glitter, perfect for Iida, hopefully it'll cheer him up. Yuga waited patiently but he couldn't help but to feel excited. This was just going to be magnficant! Absolutely stunning!*\n\n__\"Ooo! Monsieur Iida! You are in there! How wonderful! I'm glad you are bien! But I need to find out why you locked yourself away from others~ I worry for you!\"__\n\n*Yuga thought to himself as he started to shine again. Shining with gladness and relief that nothing serious had happened to his classmate. Of course Yuga was imagining the worst possible thing, Yuga can be a bit dramatic sometimes. But for good reasons if the time is right. Yuga shook his head and opened the bottle, waiting for the right moment to toss some on Iida. Yugas plan was when Iida would open the door, Yuga would throw some! Yuga heard Iida call out, saying to give him a moment. Of course he would! Yuga could appreciate Iida wanting to look good, since Yuga is a fashion king, or queen... Royalty- whichever. Yuga heard a bigger thud and Yuga would assume something happened or Iida had dropped something.*\n\n**\"Monsieur Iida! Are you alright!!\"**\n\n*Yuga also called out from outside Iida's dorm. Being the nosy person Yuga is, he put his eat against the door. To hear every move that could happen, or to see if Iida was still conscious. If he fell that is. Yuga was like on a rollercoaster of emotions, from happy to worry to ecstatic to \"Is he okay!?!\" Yuga covered his mouth, thinking about if Iida feel. Yuga couldn't help but to silently laugh as he closed his eyes and giggled. Yuga's ear still on the door. Suddenly hearing the door knob opening, it made Yuga jump back. Startled.*\n\n__\"Gosh! That was close!\"__\n\n*Yuga thought to himself as the door to the dorm opened. Yuga's eyes meeting a deep blue eyes that stared with intensity, kind of intimidating. He kept smiling at Iida like; :; Yuga listened closely as Iida talked, taking in the information. Yuga noticed the stiff posture, but that wasn't really out of the ordinary. Yuga stared at Iida, something was definitely different, this wasn't Iida he was acquaintanced with. The messy hair, crumpled clothing, something must have happened. Yuga knew Iida wouldn't have let himself get to this point without a reason.*\n\n**\"Ah! A little birdie told me~ that you haven't been seen in a while, that's so unlike you! Monsieur iida, I've come to see what troubled you!\"**\n\n*Yuga said as he lifted up his hand with the bottle of blue glitter. Throwing some up in the air, being all dramatic as much as he could. Then throwing some just above Iida, so some would go onto Iida. Yuga smirked with a wider smile, hoping this will make Iida at least lighten up or loosen up from this tension. The intensity coming off from Iida is slightly scaring Yuga.*\n\n__\"Ha Monsieur Iida, you are slightly intimidating... Hah aaaaaaaaaaaaa\"__" }, { "author": ".TENYA IIDA .", "message": "***𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚢 𝚈𝚞𝚐𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚋𝚎𝚎𝚗 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚝 𝚃𝚎𝚗𝚢𝚊 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛-𝚜𝚘-𝚜𝚕𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎**, a quirked brow signifying his puzzlement with the other, unable to understand why Yuga had been examining him so intently. That was until he patted down the wrinkled creases of his shirt, or at least tried to. An anxious feeling pricked at his sub-conscience, the little voice whispering criticisms towards himself. Oh course he looked like a mess, he hadn't kept up with his own personal upkeep, especially considering the fact that it wasn't even a school day. *\n\n*When Aoyama explained to the class president that his absence around the school's premises had been the topic of discussion for the students who enjoy gossiping, the shock on Tenya's face was hard to hide, as he didn't expect students from other classes to even give a second thought about the missing representative. Of course, Aoyama presented this information as \"The little birdie,\" But there was still something called context clues, and Tenya knew that if Yuga had been looking for him specifically beforehand, he would've received at least a message before Yuga came knocking at his dorm. But now Aoyama had been curious about what had been plaguing Iida's mind. The stern expression returned a thousandfold when he'd realised that Aoyama just wanted to hear about Tenya's personal affairs. *\n_ _\n\n*There was a discomfited moment of silence between the two whilst Yuga scrambled to toss some glitter onto Iida, sparkly particles landing gracefully in hair that needed a good washing, and onto his shoulders and upper torso, any stray particles finding their home on the floor. A glint of unamusement flashed through Iida's eyes, hand raising to make a small chopping motion as he quickly prepared a scolding for the half-French individual. But, before the words left the tip of his tongue, Yuga quickly expressed Tenya's intimidating demeanour, with more than one nervous laugh...*\n\n*That was something he heard often, being intimidating to others. His perfect posture, almost too uptight, yet overbearing personality, and steely eyes rarely failed to hint at the fact that Tenya had been raised this way, strict, and in a Russian household where smiles had only ever been shared between him and Tensei, his older brother, there was so surprise that he'd radiate such energy as Yuga treated him with a silliness that caught Iida off guard. Now, ever since the very beginning of high school, Tenya had been working on removing what Bakugou would call \"The stick up his 'rear-end,'\" By staying vigilant and aware of his own behaviour, but there were still times when he'd accidentally allow the said stick to show through his behaviour, such as now. And he was quick to correct it (as well as he could) through a cleared throat and un-furrowing of his brows, attempting to lighten his expression.*\n\n\"Ah. My apologies,\" *Tenya gave his classmate a small respectful bow, a slightly worried expression growing on his face. He genuinely didn't mean to scare him. His hand tilted forward slightly, remaining in the stiff position it had been in, and a small, but ever-so-slightly forced smile rose on his face.* \"There's no need to worry about me, Aoyama. I just needed some time to myself this weekend.\"\n_ _\n\n*Eyes darted away from Yuga for just a split moment, avoiding those ever-observant eyes. It wasn't like he was lying, he just... Wasn't completely telling the truth. Besides, Tenya preferred to keep his personal life personal, especially when it came to feelings of the heart. *\n\n*Wait, when did this become such? Iida never agreed to his heart feeling the pain that it did, it was too foreign to him, and he most certainly did not want to tell Aoyama his predicament, only to hear days later his situation being told from one first-year to another. Okay, that might've been an exaggeration, Tenya had merely been embarrassed by his situation, and simply did not wish to communicate that to the sparkling Frenchman, or anyone, for that matter. Especially not until he was able to understand his situation himself. With a nervously bitten lip, Iida lowered his hand, to tug the edges of his wrinkled mess of a shirt taut for just a moment, in an unsuccessful attempt to neaten himself.*" }, { "author": "Yuga Aoyama | @Twinkles", "message": "*Yuga pondered if he crossed the line of boundaries. Maybe he had made an accusation that wasnt true, maybe it could have been a rumor. The curiosity of Yuga did get the better of himself, a small inch of feeling bad had squeezed its way into Yuga's mind. Lost inside his own thoughts, Yuga completely forgot that he was in the company of Iida. Suddenly hearing that Iida was apologizing for something... Yuga felt a heat wave to his face, the think he thought about earlier, did he say that out loud?*\n\n__\"Oh non! Did I say that out loud! Oh gosh! Oh my! How embarrassing!\"__ \n\n*Yuga thought to himself as his face went red as Iida talked. Yuga watched as Iida bent down in a respectful bow, Yuga waved his hadn't in the air. Trying to symbolize that Iida didn't need to do that, Yuga felt guilt. Yuga didn't mean to say that, but maybe that was karma for even thinking about it.*\n\n**\"Hmm Monsieur Iida I don't quite believe you! Mom ami, how about we do something fun! Would you like to accompany me to a... What was it called... A mani pedi!\"**\n\n*Yuga said, offering a chance to get away from this dorm and school. Spending time with a friend sounded like a dream to Yuga! Some people find him too much at times, so Yuga is appreciative when someone is in his company. Yuga looked down at his shoes as he finished the last word to his offer, understanding there's a chance for his idea to be rejected. If it were to happen, Yuga would look up and smile so then he wouldn't look disappointed. Yuga doesn't like to show emotions other than his usual smile. Which is; :>..*" } ]

[ { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": "⤻ brought his PC from home to his dorm!" }, { "author": "coldhibiscus", "message": "We're doing tiny rp?" }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "Guys I have no writing juice so this is semi lit" }, { "author": "coldhibiscus", "message": "Just dialogue and some action\n\nAnd excitedly gasped\n\nOh my god what a niceroom!!\n\nThey're the three smellyteers" }, { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": "Taking out his key Izuku unlocked the door and opened it, taking off his shoes at the entrance. *\"Make yourself comfortable! I think Melanie is on her way, so she'll be here soon\"*. Izuku said, putting on his slippers and shutting the door. *\"I have some drinks in that old mini fridge, help yourself! Oh but- there is no light so you might need to use your phone flashlight\"*" }, { "author": "coldhibiscus", "message": "Whhhhhnnnnnhghhhhhh" }, { "author": "@username", "message": "Following closely behind Midoriya, Shoto had stopped in the entry way. Taking in the view of his current surroundings, realizing he hadn't been in another's dorm before. *\"Thanks.\"* Saying as he would take a seat on the so-called bed. *\"Why doesn't the fridge have a light?\"*" }, { "author": "coldhibiscus", "message": "I don't know why i said that" }, { "author": "@M3LAT0F1NN!", "message": "* She walks through the halls, checking her phone for the dorm door, finding it after a bit more walking. She knocks gently, before she opens the door and walks in, seeing Todoroki and who she now knew as Midoriya. \n\n\"Hey guys, am I late?\"" }, { "author": "@DEKU*@ *!", "message": "*\"Well- it's really old and I dropped it carrying it here so... The light busted. It still keeps things cold that's why I didn't get rid of it\"* He said, itching the side of his cheek. Hearing a knock at the door Izuku answered seeing Melanie. *\"No no! You're not late, I didn't really give an exact time anyway. Come in!\"*\n\nIzuku scooted to let her in and shut the door behind her. *\"There's drinks in the fridge! Do you guys want to watch a movie or play video games?\"*" }, { "author": "@username", "message": "*\"Not sure how safe that is if it does decide it doesn't want to keep cold anymore... But-\"* Shoto let himself trail off as he heard the knock before another had walked in. *\"No point in knocking if your just going to let yourself in, in the end*\" Pointing out, not as much in a rude way, but bluntly. Shifting slightly on the bed, Shoto gave a shrug. *\"I don't mind either or.*\"" }, { "author": "@M3LAT0F1NN!", "message": "\"Oh! Well, I'm not that thirsty, so it's okay,\"\n\n* She closes the door and sits down, crossing her legs. The room is cozy, like an organized mess, which is a weird description, but the room itself isn't easy to describe.\n\n\"I just wanted to let you guys know I was here,\"\n\n* She says with a small smile, listening in on the conversation afterwards." }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "HOLD ON IM ON THE PHONE ILL REPLY SOON" }, { "author": "coldhibiscus", "message": "I'm going to sleep ^^ so if u guys r planning to continue just pretend she's quietly listening in on the conversation!!" }, { "author": "peachberri", "message": "GNNN IM SORRY I DIDNT REPLY IN TIME" }, { "author": "coldhibiscus", "message": "ITS OKAY!!!!! GNBNNN CYAAA" } ]

[ { "author": "Hiiks Tsgl", "message": "``` 𝑼𝒏𝒖𝒔𝒖𝒂𝒍 ```\n\nHimiko was exauhsted. She had been up late that night streaming and talking to her graming group, so now she needed a walk. Some air might help give her the energy she needed to finally edit that vod in order to post it tomorrow like she usually did after a stream. She pulled her coat a bit tighter around her, the cool early morning air making her shiver. It was barely two a.M. She would get a decent amount of sleep in before she had to do some of her online classes. \n\n``` 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆 𝒇𝒂𝒔𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ```\n\nA smile crept on the blonde's face as she took in the empty and dark street. The only light she had was the dull and flickering street lights. So, she took this opportunity to enjoy the night like she hadn't been able to in so long. She was always terrified about what could happen at night. That fear wasn't about what someone could do to her, but what she could do to them. She had an outburst when she was a bit younger and it did something to her. It made those urges a bit stranger than they ever had been before. The mask had cracked. \n\n``` 𝑨 𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒄 ```\n\nShe patted her pockets, knowing she had a knife on her as she passed the shadier alleyways that decorated this particular street. Himiko never lost focus. Even if she was half asleep, she tried her best to be aware of everything she could. Her heart raced as she thought about someone actually appearing. She wasn't scared. She was almost... Excited. Was she as strong as she thought she was? Well, as strong as she knew she was. Even if she didn't want to hurt people, she knew she had to be able to. Just in case, right?\n\n``` 𝑪𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆, 𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆 ```\n\nSighing, she stopped at the next lamp, leaning against it as the yellow light flickered out and the black paint chipped, revealing the rusted iron underneath. She let a breeze pass by as she tried her best to take in the sky above. You couldn't see much, the light of the city making it impossible to make out the stars, but a sliver of the moon was still visible. For now, at least. Maybe one day enough lights would go out and the stars will light up the world, instead. Anything is possible, right? She liked to think so. \n\n``` 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕'𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒔... ```" }, { "author": "j- @GummqWsrmLsvchr", "message": "Going to fish a bag of gummy worms from his pocket, Saoirse stopped in his tracks as he realized that he was now out, pocket empty as he frantically dug into them. A loud, audible whine escaped from his throat that could only be described as one akin to a dog, brows furrowed in irritation. Stomping one fit like a child, the metal spikes at the end of his tall boots stayed firmly in place. As the breeze began to sway, however, he was pulled from his thoughts and looked up. While the wind moved her hair and brought her attention to the sky, the albino's red eyes were stuck on her golden ones.\n\n\"I think your eyes are very pretty.\" The words were blurted out, the young barely-adult not taking his own gaze off of Toga, fingers twitching as he felt the urge to take them. They were fascinating, pools of honey bringing him in like a fly and capturing him by sight and promise of something more alone. He took a step closer, then another, until he was standing almost right beside her, still a respectful distance as he reminded himself to mind his manners." }, { "author": "Hiiks Tsgl", "message": "``` 𝑪𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅... ```\n\nThe blonde had been aware of approaching footsteps. Well, if not footsteps exactly, she was aware something was moving nearby. Her hand rested on the hilt of her weapon that rested on her thigh while she listened. She was good at standing still. People tended to look over what didn't move. They were a lot like predators in that way. Playing dead keeps a lot of prey animals safe. It was a good thing that she wasn't a deer in headlights or else she would be an easy target. Nonetheless, she stopped and listened. \n\n``` 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒐! 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖!~ ```\n\nShe heard the stomping and felt their eyes on her. She carefully slid her eyes to one side, giving them a not-so-friendly glare as she noticed their approach. Himiko sighed, preparing to release her weapon as she expected them to pass her by, but his elongated eye contact made her second-guess that decision. Thank god she did. As they approached, she jumped, quickly pulling out the shining blade and holding it to his throat. The cool metal barely hovered over their skin. \n\n**\"What the fuck are you doing?\"**\n\n``` 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒍𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈..! ```\n\nHer eyes shined like a cat's in the dark as she looked at him. She was shorter, but when she looked at his shoes, she could tell it wasn't by much. She barred her fangs as she continued to scan the figure in front of her. Her teeth were tinted red from her meal that night, and if someone didn't know any better, she would look like a stray cat of some kind. Who knew that was what she related to most? Well, her parents often compared her to the family Maine Coon, so I suppose they did. \n\n``` ...𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂 𝒘𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 ```\n\nHer blonde hair fell onto her shoulders as the breeze pushed it out of the very loose bun she had done before she left her apartment. She didn't seem to notice. Her eyes never left the person's face and her expression never changed. If someone didn't know she had just moved, she could easily be mistaken for a statue. Nonetheless, she would hold her ground. She had hurt people before for one reason or another, so, she would do it again. Especially if she needed to. If this was some kind of misunderstanding, she could easily apologize and laugh it off or something. She had done it before. Who would even think it was odd in New York City? \n\n``` 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖'𝒓𝒆 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈! ```" }, { "author": "j- @GummqWsrmLsvchr", "message": "Impulse control was never Saoirse's strong suit.\n\nSkinny hands gently reached up and cupped Toga's face, a mental note being made that her geatures were soft. Fighting the urge to take them for himself, Saoirse took another deep breath, thumb gently sliding against her cheek before he seemed to realize what he'd done. Hands dropping to his sides again, he chewed on his bottom lip, a little anxious now as he was concerned he'd be called some horrible nickname.\n\n\"Sorry- I'm sorry! You're just- I really-\" Stumbling over his words, Saoirse panicked, face a little flushed now from embarrassment as his own actions. He was definitely odd. \"I think you're eyes are nice and you seem nice and I just got excited.\" Smooth, Saoirse. Real smooth." }, { "author": "Hiiks Tsgl", "message": "``` 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖... ```\n\nShe stood in silence as they spoke and rambled. She didn't move. She didn't shift. The only thing that gave away the fact that she was alive was her strangely calm breathing. She wasn't panicked. Not yet, at least. So, she let them talk. They wouldn't do anything rash. If they did, it wouldn't end well. She was sure that, by now, they were well aware of that. At least, she hoped so. They seemed... Nice enough. \n\n``` 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. ```\n\nAs they spoke, she could tell they truly were no threat. She dropped the weapon, keeping it within arms reach if need be on her thigh, right under her skirt. She listened to everything they said, watching as they held something back while they looked at her. Her eyes never shifted. Her expression was as cold as ever while she listened. It seemed like nothing would change that. She seemed... Unreachable thus far. In truth, she just didn't want things to go sour if she decided to act any differently than she had so far. If she let her guard down, something could happen very quickly. She would have no way to recover. \n\n``` 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. ```\n\nAll of that changed as their hand met her cold skin. The cool breeze had dusted her pale skin with a light pink, but this color deepened as their hand cupped her face. She was impulsive. She was tired. That was a horrible combination. This was an example of that. Why? Well, she leaned into their touch. It was her first instinct and she barely had any time to think about what she was doing as it happened. Her eyes fluttered closed for only a moment before their hand left her face. They were clearly embarrassed, but she almost pouted as her face felt colder. Despite the fact that it had become a deep red. \n\n``` 𝑼𝒏𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒂𝒕𝒆. ```\n\nHimiko opened her eyes, meeting their red ones as a cool breeze rushed by, tussling her already messy hair as it did. Despite that, her gaze fell to their hands that now rested by their sides. She took only a moment to debate about her next move. She could walk away. She could just leave it. But, something was telling her to follow her gut. Follow that small voice in her head. Follow her racing heart and burning face. So, she moved her hand to grab theirs. \n\n**\"Your hand is warm.\"**\n\nIt was only then that she really noticed that she had been shivering. She had been too distracted to really realize that it had gotten colder as the early morning dragged on. It would get warmer soon, but right now, she was cold. Well, maybe not too cold, but she was still shivering. That's all that mattered. Maybe next time she would look at the weather report before going out.\n\n``` 𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒆, 𝑰 𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒅 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒚 ```\n\nShe gently grabbed their hand, guiding it up to rest on her face again, holding his hand against her skin. It was clear that her face was flushed and her skin felt feverish, but nonetheless, she was still going with the fact that she was cold. Maybe that would work and they would be happy or maybe they would get freaked out and run for it. She wouldn't blame them either way. That would be what any normal person would do. Luckily, this person in front of her didn't seem very normal. She liked that about them.\n\n``` 𝑨 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒂𝒄. ```" }, { "author": "j- @GummqWsrmLsvchr", "message": "\"..You're perfect.\" Whispered beneath Saoirse's breath, the wind caught the two words and sent them to get lost within its force. Allowing his hands to be taken, he watched as Toga brought them to her face and he was convinced that there was no other person in the world who could rival her perfection. Take another ragged breath, his thumbs gently brushed against the blonde's cheeks for a moment before he took notice of her shivering. Pulling away for just a moment, he slipped his blazer off, draping it over her shoulders clumsily. He remembered one of the bosses teaching him to do that whenever a lady was cold or something along those lines.\n\n\"Can I have your number?\" As Saoirse so bluntly asked with his wide smile, he brought his hands back to Toga's face, gently resting against them once more. His white-collared button down had short sleeves, bandages wrapping all up his arms from his wrists to conceal wounds and scars from his childhood. \"Or maybe I could walk you home since it's cold?\"" }, { "author": "Hiiks Tsgl", "message": "``` 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒍, 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉 𝑰 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒄 ```\n\nHimiko knew she was always the practice child. For her parents, she was a trial run before they had her little brother. She lost any attention that she had gotten, as rare as it was, as soon as he popped into the world. Of course, she didn't blame him. Even as a child, she knew who was to blame. So, she adored her brother for as long as she could. Before she was the stain on her family name. Luckily, she never liked it anyway. \n\n``` 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒐𝒇 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔𝒆 𝑰'𝒎 𝒆𝒙𝒄𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰 𝒔𝒆𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅~! ```\n\nThe blonde shivered again but was quickly warm again as she felt the person's jacket fall over her shoulders. She smiles, her fangs making themselves known as she did. Well, she called them fangs. In truth, she just has very sharp canines, but knowing her, a true carnivore, they basically are anyway. Nonetheless, she was letting her mind wander. So, she brought her attention back to the *Very* Interesting person in front of her. Her eyes fluttered closed, her lids getting heavy as her exhaustion finally set in. She should get home... That's when he made his offer. She absolutely lit up. Well, as much as she could light up as the sleepiness took hold. \n\n``` 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. ```\n\n**\"Walking me home would be nice, actually.\"** \n\nShe yawned, stepping to the side to hook her arm around theirs. She leaned her head against their shoulder for only a moment before she realized they wouldn't know where she was staying. So, laughing off her small mistake, she let her arm slide down, holding their hand. She took the lead as she looked back at him, her golden eyes growing duller as she yawned again. They slipped out of the golden light of the street lamp and into the cold darkness. Where they both felt most at home. \n\n**\"Oh. I'm Himiko by the way. Probably should tell you that much before I fall head over heels.\"**\n\nHer voice was still pretty monotone as she spoke, but it was clear that she was happy. She was bursting with emotions right now, but that would come out more after she had a cat nap. Then she could really be excited about what had happened. Just like that, her gaze fell in front of them again, checking the LOV chat before making sure she was leading them in the right direction. Though, she was tempted to get lost on purpose. Just so that they could spend a bit more time together. She quickly pushed that impulse aside, though. \n\n``` 𝑻𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖. ```" }, { "author": "j- @GummqWsrmLsvchr", "message": "\"My name is Saoirse and I think I've already fallen.\" Flirting wasn't something that Saoirse would say he's good at, arguably having never really done it in his life if he was being honest, yet here he was doing just that. \"You look like your my age- how old are you? Wait, that's rude, I was told never to ask a lady that, I'm sorry!\" Bouncing a little as the two walked, it was a wonder that he was even able to with how heavy and chunky his boots were. \"I'll protect you from any bad people, don't worry.\" Thoughts rattling around in his brain, he was jumping from one thought to the next, eyes wide despite it being 2 am." }, { "author": "Hiiks Tsgl", "message": "``` 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ```\n\nShe thought his physical features were very interesting. In a good way, of course. His red eyes drew her in, keeping her locked in on them while she was pulled even closer to them. She staggered as she made eye contact with them again, a dumb smile now on her face. She was so excited. Especially as she used her free hand to pull their jacket tighter around their body. Her nose twitched slightly when she laughed. Specifically when she was happy. This chuckle was one of pure enjoyment. Pure bliss. \n\n``` 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑹𝒆𝒅 𝒎𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 ```\n\nShe looked back at them as they spoke, keeping her attention on the figure while still leading the way to her apartment. She knew the way home like the back of her hand, so she could luckily give them her full attention. She adored everything about them as they spoke. Their tone of voice, the words they used, and just everything drove her crazy. But, not as crazy as the last time she had a crush on someone. That was a good sign. It meant she was recovering. \n\n``` 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒅𝒓𝒚 ```\n\n**\"Well, I'm nineteen. I don't care much about my age, so I don't mind people asking!\"**\n\nShe giggled again, pausing the flustered laughter as she made eye contact with the boy again. She knew this was different from her last incident. But, she tried her best to recover the best she could and continued her chuckling without missing a beat. She took the compliment about her name in while she turned a corner, the dark shadow of a building they passed covering her face in just enough shadow to keep her at least a little hidden as she flushed pink. \n\n``` 𝑨 𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 ```\n\nHer grip on his hand tightened as she heard them offer her protection. She knew she could take care of herself, but she loved that someone else cared. That meant so much to her. She hadn't had someone actually *Care* About her well-being in a long time. And, that meant the world to her. Actually, it meant more than the world. It was invaluable to the blonde as she continued to lead the way through the dark city. \n\nThey were close to her building. Only a few more minutes of walking were left. That made her sad for a moment, but she was tired. Really tired. Her building was pretty nice, though and if they couldn't go home, she would be happy to let them stay since it was so late. She had a guest room, after all. She didn't want to rush anything. Even though they seemed very similar, she was scared that she would run them off. So, she was walking on eggshells and only breaking the ones she was sure wouldn't scare them.\n\n**\"Thanks! I really appreciate that, Sao.\"**\n\n``` 𝑨𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒔...𝑶𝒇 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅 ```" }, { "author": "j- @GummqWsrmLsvchr", "message": "\"Mhm! I'm super scary, so don't worry!\" Giggling himself, the yakuza member had pride in his voice although he definitely looked the complete opposite of scary. A walking contradiction, perhaps, he was. Verbally friendly and kind, but so physically violent and aggressive, blood forever staining his hands. Not that he ever minded so long as it was for a justified cause in his mind. He shook the thought away once more.\n\n\"Can I have your number? Oh- uh- please.\" The question was asked more calmly than the first time, the world's smallest hint of shyness to Saoirse's words as they asked for such a thing. Although unaware of where exactly they were being led to by the blonde, they had a feeling that their time together was dwindling for the night. If they could stay like this until the end of time, they'd be happy." }, { "author": "Hiiks Tsgl", "message": "Before they could truly respond, the elevator dinged and slid open to her floor. She didn't wait for an answer as she finally reached her door, leaning against it while pulling their jacket tighter around her shoulders for only a moment. She wanted to take in that warmth and that smell before she had to give it back. Before they said no. Before they left her behind. But, she quickly pulled it off, holding it out to them with almost a pout on her face. Now, she waited for an answer. She needed to know wether or not she could sleep right tonight. If she needed to call her best friend. If she needed to actually go on a grocery run. This was important. More than she though they knew. \n\n``` 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆, 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒎𝒆... ```\n\n**\"If your answer is yes, do you wanna stay over tonight? I don't have a stream since I already finished and Touya isn't coming over so... I have it to myself again. I wouldn't mind spending more time with you before I fall asleep. Honestly, seeing your face before going to bed would make me sleep better.\"**\n\nShe chuckled at how corny her statement was but went with it. She was pretty sure it was right anyway, so she wasn't lying. She hated liars. Despised them, even. That's how that boy treated her and she would never let it happen again. Not again. She would rather die than lie to someone she cares about and right now, Sao was making it to the top of that list. \n\n``` 𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅, 𝒏𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒔𝒂𝒚! ```" }, { "author": "j- @GummqWsrmLsvchr", "message": "```Now Playing: Cupid's Chokehold / Breakfast in America.```\n\n\nSaoirse wasn't aware that he was going to be allowed into the building, let alone brought with the blonde woman as she continued to tug him along. Expression mostly neutral except for a ghost of a smile pulling up at his lips, he took in the scenery around him. The apartment building seemed nice- everything seemed nice- and he didn't find anything out of the ordinary. Although never the one to particularly care about appearances, it was hardwired into his system that he needed to always be aware. Never paranoid, but forever more conscious than most about his surroundings thanks to the yakuza.\n\n```Take a look at my girlfriend, she's the only one I got.```\n\n\nThe agreement to give Saoirse her number already had him ecstatic, almost jumping in his spot, but when Toga kept speaking? He short-circuited. Never one to actually date or have a life outside of the yakuza and crime, this was all extremely new for him and a lot to process. Less than 30 minutes ago he'd been shoving his mouth full of sour gummy worms and thinking about math class, pondering why somebody would eat weeds. The duality of life was an entertaining and interesting one.\n\n```I know I'm young, but if I had to pick between her or the sun-```\n\n\nFor the first time in a long while, Saoirse was wordless, expression almost eerily blank for a long while before he blinked in a way that could only be replicated by an owl. Red eyes that almost had a purple-ish hue to them due to the lighting. Pupils blown wide with some sort of intense version of love and attachment to someone he'd only just met, he rapidly nodded. The sight of her in his jacket now in the light had his fingers twitching, gaze seeking golden irises, something that would happen forever now.\n\n```I'd be one nocturnal son of a gun.```\n\nInterrupted by the ding of the elevator, Saoirse continued frozen in his spot for several more moments, the offer he was given only furthering his rapidly growing obsession. This wasn't healthy- he wasn't healthy- but for better or worse he quickly nodded in agreement. Scrambling to get out of the elevator as it started to close, he practically jumped on Himiko, arms throwing themselves around her frame. Nuzzling into her neck like a pet would to their owner, he took a deep breath in; how long had it been since he'd embraced another person? He had no clue.\n\n```But dad I'm finally thinkin' I may have found the one-```\n\n\n\"Mine? Mine. Mhm. I'll sleepover anytime!\" Once more, Saoirse's smile was wide, fingers curling into Toga's body gently mostly out of excitement, but also to keep himself stable. This was the one, there was no other person for him and he'd rather die than lose her already. A growing need to just keep physical contact with her at all times sat heavy on his chest, pulling away from the embrace after a few more moments and grabbing her hand. Fingers laced together, his black nail polish contrasted against the rest of his unhealthily pale skin, half-rainbow hair much brighter now that they were in the light.\n\n```Type of girl that will make you way proud of your son.```" }, { "author": "Hiiks Tsgl", "message": "``` 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆 ```\n\nHimiko felt her heart start to race. She felt those strong feelings that she had always tried to bury bubble up in her chest. Maybe they would be okay with her feelings. Maybe they wouldn't mind her... Obsessive behaviors. As she felt his body wrap around hers, she realized that there wasn't much she could do. Not right now, at least. She returned their embrace as she smiled, her teeth lightly sinking into his clothed shoulder. She chuckled, pulling away as they grabbed her hand and she squeezed theirs in return. \n\n``` 𝒀𝒐𝒖'𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓-𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓-𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓-𝒏𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆𝒆𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒆 ```\n\nShe giggled to herself as she unlocked her apartment's door, dragging him inside before closing the door behind them. As soon as the door clicked shut, she almost pounced on them like a cat whose owner had just come home from work. She made sure to keep the door unlocked just in case they got uncomfortable or anything. She didn't want to be creepy. Especially when she felt like she had *Finally* Made a huge connection. Nonetheless, she wrapped her arms around their neck, pulling her body close to theirs. \n\n``` 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘, 𝑰 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝑰'𝒎 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆 ```\n\n**\"Well, then I guess its good that Im getting a little tired. Feel free to stay after I fall asleep and make yourself at home. What's mine is yours, after all. Or you can stay next to me till morning. That's up to you!~\"**\n\nShe kissed them on the cheek before making her way to the couch, offering him a spot next to her as she took a seat herself. She just needed a few hours of sleep and was in very comfortable clothes to begin with, so she was already prepared to fall asleep as soon as possible. As soon as she sat down, she felt sleep hit her hard. She could barely keep her eyes open as she waited for Sao to take a seat, but she did.\n\n``` 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒔𝒆𝒆, 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒓? ```" } ]

[ { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Would you mind started pretty please?\n\nI need to finish an essay and go put halloween decor up with my parent." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Ofc. I might just need a nap or smth first" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "He sat and waited, just like he always did. Toya was inevitable; like barbed wire tangled into his being, a messy weaving of blood, flesh, and cold metal. He couldn't part from the pain, couldn't imagine himself free from the sting or clean from the blood. They were a part of him whether he accepted it or not and waiting like this had become a ritual.\n\nHe was a man of scraps and spare parts; nothing finished, nothing assembled. Every part of him was rusted and jagged and had begun to slowly fall apart with the test of time. Pacing his room, continuous sips from cold tin, bitter liquor washing down bitter liquor, it felt a little silly to question the reasoning behind the birth of this anxiety. \n\nToya Todoroki, it had been a while. What would they see? What would they think of him now? Would they be disappointed just like him? This truly wasn't how he was supposed to be. With them and only with them had he smiled a weightless, untouched smile. With them and only with them, had he experienced warmth. It was almost ironic- almost laughable to recall, when he'd known neither he nor Toya ever had warmth to spare.\n\nA few glances out the window; weakly illuminated streets below, still impossibly alive as if to oppose the death of night. Drunkards stumbled stupidly out from the nearest pub around the corner; a fight had broken out only a few feet away; two men shoving each other forward and back, forward and back again. He couldn't really hear but the hinging and unhinging of the two mens jaws implied strings of slurred insults and expletives. He almost felt embarrassed for them. Fists thrust. The taller man beat the other down, knuckles cracking against the bone of the other's nose. Pinned, that man began to hit over and over; shiny red stained the other's face alongside the taller man's fists. No one stopped, no one batted an eye. That drunkard didn't stop hitting. He didn't stop until the pinned man had finally gone limp; no longer flinching or tensing or reacting like a sensible, thinking, feeling human. \n\nPeople sickened him. Go on about the evolution of man; fantastical structures, discoveries, technologies. At the end of the day, they're just like any other barbaric predator. \nHe knelt down to the dusty carpet and took his discarded uniform up in hand, fumbling through the pockets with wriggling fingers, pulling out a lighter and a nearly empty carton of cigarettes. \nA small burst of flame raised to a stick of tobacco, he lit his cigarette, half leaned over the endlessly open window of his apartment, raised the stick to his lips and inhaled, held, released. \nA knock at the door. He scoffed his second exhale.\n\n\"You know you don't have to knock, right?\"\n\nHe mused to the other behind the door, a weak smirk to strain at the corners of his mouth. He flicked his cigarette through the crack of the window before swiveling around and making to answer the door. The knob was always stubborn to turn; older building, most likely haunted. He couldn't help but smile, cracking the door open and silently nodding the other inside." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "**THE chilled New York air** Nipped at Toya's exposed nose and ears, a small pink hue to them as he made his way through the familiar streets. Some time had passed since he'd properly seen the man he considered the most important in his life, everything feeling just a little bit slower with the lack of contact. It was an odd relationship they had, Toya never feeling comfortable enough to call Keigo his best friend since grade school, but less than lovers. Perhaps there was a third kind of soulmate out in the world, some sort of version that could put the odd mixture of emotions into words whenever he hung out with the blond. It was a truly odd and indescribable.\n\nHalf questioning whether or not he should turn around now to go back for his motorcycle, the eldest Todoroki weighed the pros and cons. At this point he was closer to the apartments than to his current place of residence, but it also would be a much quicker drive. Then again, the cold wasn't very enjoyable and the speed that the motorcycle would hit wasn't worth it. Instead, he picked up his walking speed a little bit, the chains that were hooked onto his belt loops on either of his sides making more noise than before. It took him a little more strength to move his feet at a quicker speed, the heavily platformed boots he wore making him 5'10 and being rather heavy as a result of that." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I got a little excited." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "His neighborhood was riddled with plague and parasites. Locking the door was a pitiful attempted fix, though he couldn't dwell on that right now. Toya was here. \nSometimes he missed them so much it hurt. Some things never change. Some things, he longed to change but simply couldn't deny. His whole life, Toya had been preparing a rope for his neck, his whole life, Toya had left him to suffocate; kill him only to bring him back, make it all better. Their absence was that rope. Their pain was that rope. \n\nOf course, he'd joined by their side, his own designated cigarette between his fingers, ash flicked into the open city air, his wrist draped over the ledge of the open window. The city twinkled outside; an ugly galaxy, concrete hell. The sky was always black and barren, as though concealed by blankets of all consuming smoke. The buzz of electricity overpowered the worlds in the sky above. Home was hell, but sometimes the memories of that place had him mourning the stars and the routine dark of night.\n\nFinally, he had it in him to speak, pulling the cigarette from between his lips and instead occupying himself with words. He had been up to plenty and then some; dipping his feet into the bloody waters of this city's inner workings. He couldn't say that though. What *Could* He say? What could he tell them that would be true? He only ever caught himself doing this with Toya; analyzing his thoughts and words before speaking them, identifying white lies and tiny things that could put them at risk. His gaze was fixed blankly upon the nothingness outside the window; so much to see, tired eyes left every structure and light to melt as one, candle wax. A culmination of incoherent colors and shapes. His mind drifted. His voice was hush.\n\n\"Waking, working, sleeping.\" \n\nHe punctuated his words with a subtle shrug and turned to face the other, empty eyes dragging up and down their anatomy. Those burns. *The tug of that rope at his neck again*. He silently choked a little on his own saliva, extending out an arm, pausing for maybe a quarter of a second before placing his palm against their chest, fingers brushing the scars that prominently stemmed at their collarbone. \n\n\"That text about your old man...\"\n\nIt was rough, raggedy and wrinkled like the mangled flesh of an elderly corpse. *A memory; touching these scars when they were new; the bloody patches, the flinches his fingertips conjured.* He couldn't afford to waste his time- he'd already wasted too much. Life was too short to beat around the bush. \n\n\"Stay here.\"" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "They're so fucking gay." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "That's what I'm sayingg" }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "The response Toya eventually received was flat and lacked description, but he wouldn't pry, both out of understanding when another didn't want to discuss it and because he was replaying the past week's events in his head. No matter how much he detested the man he was blood bound to, Enji had a much stronger hold on his brain than he would ever care to admit and it made him a mixture of feeling angry and disgust with himself. As the negative feelings had him almost falling into a silent spiral of self-deprivation and potential harm, his brain registered the sight of a hand touch his exposed scars. Such a simplistic thing brought him back to reality, focused on what was happening in the moment for at least a short while.\n\nThe small bits of skin that Toya could feel of Keigo's against his healthy skin had him pausing, followed by a deep breath being drawn as his eyes flickered down to watch his movements. It wasn't until the next words that filled the silence had his heart skipping a beat in a mixture of anxiety and mild surprise at the offer, although he knew that he shouldn't be that shocked by such an offer; it was Keigo, after all.\n\n\"You know I will.\" The words that emitted from Toya's raspy voice were sure, as if there wasn't a doubt that he would either. \"What does it feel like?\" The question was a little sudden, something that happened to slip past his lips quicker than he could stop. Although he could use his own fingers to touch the burns, they were constantly calloused and burnt from his favorite past time: fire performance. It wasn't anything big, nothing that was done in the prying eyes of the public, but rather in the \"Safety\" Of his house as to avoid being watched. It was a simple question, really, but something that held an underlying meaning to it. There weren't many in the world he'd allow to so much as gaze at the ugliest parts of his body, let alone touch." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Scars are inescapable, draining, parasitic. A carving into flesh, a carving into bark. A swell or an indentation; deadened patches on a living organism. He knew how Toya felt about these marks. Their skin was warm beneath his palm. Their heart was pounding. His eyes drifted up and down once and then again after. His fingers caressed the marred scar tissue.\n\n\"It feels like you.\"\n\nHe mumbled eventually to them in turn, a small smile ripping at the seams. He batted his eyes, looked up at the other. Gold and cyan. Their blue was his favorite. The color belonged to them and only them; nothing else in the entire world stood a chance. A chill rushed down his body; head to toe, a ripple in the regulation of his system. He bowed his head, fixed himself on his socks, and the ugly patterned carpet. It took a minute; rush around himself and the mess of his apartment, gathering up his composure. \n\nToya needed someone strong. By no means was he a rock or a hero, but he could try for them to be more than he was; stay here, stand strong, tell them *It's okay*, because god knew they didn't ever hear it enough. God knew no one who had ever told them such things had ever truly believed it themselves. He believed it though. Toya was everything. It would get better for him. It had to get better. The only place left to go was up. \n\nHe was always trembling. Nothing about him was ever simply steady or still. He raised a hand up to Toya's cheek, his fingers quivering as they cupped around the side of their jaw. His brows were sternly furrowed as he spoke. He wasn't a liar– not with them at least. If he was to waste his breath away on empty sound once again, he'd see to carrying the weight of his statement and following through.\n\n\"The bastard won't come here. I won't let him.\"\n\n*I'll keep you safe.* He said without speaking." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "\"Mmm.\" A small hum in response was all Toya gave, followed by a small nod of understanding as he stood there. The eye contact that they held had his lips twitch upward for just a moment before sticking to their position once again. Although he dressed in black, gold was always a color he didn't mind wearing, the gold staples that would forever dig into his skin serving as a sort-of odd reminder of the other man. It was the only reason he changed his medical staples from silver to gold, really, wanting to have some sort of consistent reminder on him that there was something holding him together. *Someone* Holding him together. It was symbolic in a way, the color of the metal that held his skin together— his *Body* Together— matched the color of the only man in the world who had managed to keep him somewhat together mentally." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "A thousand times over, he would carry that weight for them. Keep them safe, or at least the closest thing to safe that he could provide in his own pitiful mess of a life. Oftentimes, Keigo wished for a special power– something that could allow him to chip away the layers of the other's pain and set them free. He'd bear the load of those layers and allow them to envelop his being, smile to see the other free and unburdened for once in their life.\n\nHe wasn't anything special though. He hadn't any superior abilities; he couldn't wipe clean a chipped and dirtied slate. He couldn't do much at all. Sometimes his humanity killed him; the weakness that accompanied being alive. He was only human and he hated it.\nHis thumb brushed against their bottom lip. He shattered, seeing them so desperate, though the sight was the furthest thing from alien to him.\n\nThey had taken his wrist and it was his turn to poorly attempt at restraining an instinctive flinch. He hated himself for fearing the touch even for a single second.\n\nSometimes he could still feel those bruises; see the black and blue splotched across his anatomy.\n\n\"You're okay. He's not here, yeah? Tell me what to do– anything... Just tell me and I'll make it happen. I'll make it better...\"\n\nHe wobbled, leaning himself forward and resting his forehead to theirs, their ratty bangs brushing against his skin. Itchy. His heart ached for every word he'd uttered. It hurt; he meant everything. He meant every word for them and winced at the awareness of their inevitable distrust." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "\"Don't ever leave me. You're not allowed to.\" A please to follow up those words were caught in Toya's throat, his mouth feeling dry and he almost winced at just how demanding he seemed. If Keigo ever truly wanted to leave him, the eldest Todoroki wouldn't stop him, understanding all too well why somebody would ever want to abandon their place by his side. Then again, nobody had been able to properly stand by his side in god knows how long; nobody had been able to but Keigo, the only one he was never able to shake. It had him equal parts grateful and terrified.\n\nAs Keigo grew closer and then foreheads touched, Toya had to take a deep breath to calm himself down momentarily, his heart picking up once again before slowing. Blue eyes traced the other's face, as if trying to imprint it into his brain before he glanced down to his lips last, the desire to have some sort of physical connection with someone growing on him. Then, surprisingly, his thoughts drifted to Chisaki Kai, the man who he had entered his lift abruptly and he could never quite seem to shake. They'd been on a couple dates now, but they weren't official ~~yet~~, so far just a situationship, right? Instead of dwelling on it for a moment longer, his hand released Keigo's wrist and pulled him closer by the front of his shirt (hoodie? I don't fucking know) and pressed their lips together." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I think i want to rewrite my response. I don't like it.\n\nWell like. I just. I feel bad for hurting keigo. </3\n\nYEAH BUT JUST. MAN. The poor baby." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Pfff- well, if you wanna rewrite, that's up to you but Keigo is pathetic so just be ready for a sad response regardless, if there's any sort of intimacy at least 😭\n\nDon't get emotionally involved with bird douchebag 😭" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "PLEASE. AJDJFDKLF. I'll leave it then." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "You're not gonna like me for this response bro I'm making myself sad 😭" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "This was his own fault. Never for a minute would he stop them or take a single thing back if it could lead him to the intoxicating reward of their touch all over again. He melted pitifully; liquid wax in their grasp, messy, inconvenient, useless. It was a mystery to him, why they still bothered. Even if it was only ever to fill a void; a replacement of something bigger and better than himself, he simply wasn't worthy. They had to have known that too, touching him like he was breakable, as if he may just shatter to the very brush of their breath on his cheek; a liability, not a friend. \n\nThis wasn't what friends did. This wasn't the kind of fun friends had. This wasn't fun.\n\n*Am I making this better for you or am I just a cold blade to your arteries?*\n\nHe leaned towards the latter and swallowed down the bitter taste of regurgitated shame. They were bleeding out onto his lips and he was allowing it. Though what more could be expected of a filthy fucking addict? Like a blade in the abdomen, twisting and orange with scalding heat, he took that resentment and accepted it too. \n\nParting from this would count for leaving. They'd be left to the cold and so would he. Just like that, everything would be gone in an instant. He wasn't ready to be cold again. He knew them well enough to silently consider the feeling mutual. A small step, hardly even that, forward to the other, their chests pressing, flush. His palm retreated to the comfort of their chest, caressing all too near to their heart.\n\nThe way this felt, this wasn't for him, this wasn't him that they were doing this to. He was merely a body and sugary words for them to devour; those eyes of theirs- the eyes he loved more than life itself, didn't see him. They never would; he'd taken that dagger and accepted it long ago as well. His body was one of blades, bullets and arrows. His body was one that devoured agony like a starved hawk devoured rats. At least the agony was something; something was better than the natural absence he'd familiarized himself with since childhood. He'd take anything if it smiled nice enough in his direction. Toya was that nice smile and then some.\n\nThat was an understatement though, wasn't it? *And then some...* No, Toya was everything. \n\nHe caught himself in that thought and hated all over again.\n\n\"I'm here..\"\n\nHe assured, the words escaping him, more like a desperate plea than anything else. \n\n*See me, please.*\n\nHis eyelids lightly fluttered; a weight he couldn't quite lift, tilting his head and allowing his lips to properly overlap theirs." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "SCREAMING RIGHT NOW.\n\nThey're so fucking sad and cute and depressing and adorable and terrible and." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Also ong I have good news" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Why did i get a notification here. Help.\n\nI'll start with toya just arriving.\n\nI still want to continue it, dw.\n\nToya won't even question the blood rn.\n\nHe'll ask another time." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "A sense of urgency, a need to be at the blond's side despite knowing that he had no right; Toya felt completely and utterly selfish. He'd let the sick brunet sleep, leave a note on his bedside table and a text to accompany it before leaving his house. It was as if Keigo's apartment complex was engrained into his memory, able to find it from where he was whether it be on foot or by a vehicle. He stayed on the phone, although silent as he navigated his way through the street of New York, speeding on his motorcycle in a way that sent a small rush of adrenaline coursing through his veins. It was the most he'd felt in weeks.\n\nA beep sounded on the other side of the phone, Toya slipping it into his pocket as he parked in front of the building and made his way up the stairs. He'd knock for a moment, unsure if he still had the privilege of just walking in, but ultimately stepped inside shortly after. Pushing the bedroom door open more than it was with one converse-clad foot, he swallowed thickly at the sight of Keigo on the floor. It wasn't a pretty one, but he never asked or expected pretty either.\n\n\"...Kei.\" A nickname Toya had only used once or twice in his life, far preferring some stupid nickname or the use of Keigo's full name. He approached him and crouched down, nails digging into his palms to refrain himself from touching him. He didn't want to do anything more wrong than he already had." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Ong I forgot about you pookie wookie" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Shaken gasps and pants, face drenched in fluids; blood, sweat, tears, saliva. Dust, dirt and blood coated over mangled flesh. His clothes were in pitiful tatters.\n\nThe door creaked open and clicked as it closed again. Touya. Who else would it be? If he could, he'd throw the other into the tightest embrace, never let them go ever again. He was tired though; his body was straining, giving in to the weight of fatigue.\n\nSloppily, he wiped his nose then his mouth with the back of wrist. His body was a burden, a cage. He hesitantly pulled his weight a few inches closer to the other. One hand reached and gripped firmly onto the others shoulder as he forced himself upward, pressed his forehead to their chest, a trembling wreck.\n\n\"I hate you...\"\n\nHe whispered, straining out those three words. It wasn't the first time he'd said it, wouldn't be the last. Never in his life would he ever mean it though. It was always the latter or something like it." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "The sight of blood had Toya's brows furrow, though something in him told him that it wasn't the blond's; it was almost never the blond's. He'd learned that after seeing it a couple times in the past. Logically, he knew that there were questions he should ask, but those could wait for now.\n\nWith Keigo grabbing onto Toya, he lost his footing and fell backwards, hitting the wall behind him in a slumped position. Eyes trained on Keigo, he hesitantly let his arms wrap around the wreck of the man— he wasn't any better, though. \n\nWords uttered before, though not often, Toya swallowed thickly as his mouth suddenly felt dry and a couple tears brimmed in his eyes; he'd blink them away. He didn't deserve to cry right now, to feel bad for himself, not when the most consistent person in his life was as upset as he was.\n\n\"..I kn-o-o-ow.\" Toya's own words were strained, eyes half-lidded as he held Keigo just a little bit tighter; he'd take whatever punishment he gave him if he wanted to. Heart thumping against his chest erratically, he prayed to whatever high being above that Keigo couldn't hear it. He knew he could.\n\nBlood was slowly staining Toya's own clothing, though much harder to see due to the color black they were, the white rubber end of his shoes bearing the only visible color on him. Part of him wanted to look away, to mumble some apology and stare up at the ceiling as he did so. Keigo deserved more than that. He deserved a properly spoken apology with eye contact where golden sand would meet a hectic tsunami of blue. For now, he'd wait and let him cry, get out his emotions in the entire situation." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "As if they hadn't heard it the first time, those ugly words slipped into the stuffy air of the tiny apartment again and again, Keigo digging his fingers into the fabric of the other shirt and fisting it tight. His teeth grit together and he cursed his tears; the fact that the other had to see them.\n\nThe hand not busied by a firm grip on the others shirt rested against the small of their back. His trembling fingers brushed against the subtle juts of their spine.\n\nShame won over logic. He couldn't ask them what to make of this mess; they wouldn't know the answer. They weren't the ones soaked in the blood of others; only themself. They only ever hurt themself. They weren't the same breed of selfish as he was.\n\nHe wasn't in a panic; his breaths were shaken and unsteady, but he was breathing. Hours had passed since he'd pieced everything together, and those hours prior left him tired, dizzied and pained beyond all else. \n\nThat left the silence to swallow them whole. The loudest sounds in the world in those moments were the pounding of hearts." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "Allowing the silence to sit between them, Toya's fingers ever-so-lightly tapped against the blond's back, a subconscious habit of his whenever he was anxious. The sound of breathing, blood rushing through their ears, and most importantly; both hearts still beating, willingly or not, kept them alive. He hated that the most.\n\nEyes drifting up towards the chipped and old ceiling above, Toya listened as Keigo repeated the three word phrase over and over again. A small jab to his heart each time, only pushing the previous stake just a little harder into his heart. He deserved it.\n\nOnce it was quiet save for their breaths, he stayed like that for a while, refusing to break the silence. The memories of what had occurred only within the last 24 hours replayed in his head, stuck like a broken record. Freedom had been right within his grasp, Death giving him the gentle welcoming once more, only to be ripped away once again. Perhaps he was star-crossed lovers with Death; the thought almost made him laugh.\n\n\"..I-mmmmmm sorry-y.\" Pride was something that Toya made himself swallow in times like this. Only in the most vulnerable of states would he apologize for something such as this, though the apology wasn't for the actions itself. He only regretted not telling him.\n\n\"It wo-o-o—n't hap-hap-hap-happen agaiiiiiiiiiin.\" Stuttering only getting worse with the emotion Toya was trying so desperately to hide, it was a tell-tale sign." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I'm waxing my boots and have it all over my hands rn." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"You can't leave me like that... You just can't. ...Never again.\"\n\nWhat were they without the promise? Two halves pretending to be whole. Two broken things trying to be fixed. Sometimes it was easier just to stay fractured, stay like this; a crumbled mess within these arms that desperately tried to hold him together, keep the pieces from breaking away.\n\nTouya was warm when everything else in the world was cold. He melted to the touch while rage gnawed at the inner lining of his stomach, nauseated him with the most bitter resulting taste on his tongue; a taste that he immediatly knew would forever linger. \n\nNo matter the anger, no matter the betrayal, no matter the wound, the blood, the tears- forgiveness wasn't just a choice to be made. Grudges were a luxury for people who could afford the losses. \n\nHe readjusted from his slump and finally met their gaze. His eyes were inflamed and glossy in a glaze of tears; red vessels to stain the whites of his scleras. The gold of his irises never died or dulled even if every other aspect of his complexion was dark and sickly. His forehead met theirs. Breaths collided. \n\n\"...Stay here, Touya. Don't make me beg.\"\n\n*I forgive you.*" }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "A nod of his head, bones cracking as Toya did so. He wouldn't try it again without telling the other.\n\nTheir promise, turned into a pact sealed with blood and inked initials above one another's hearts, never to be broken. Promises were something that Toya wasn't very concerned about breaking though he'd never really broken any, un-allowing of such a thing to tie him down. Feeling tied down was something that he loathed, yet that emotional teenage night had him doing exactly that. He'd blame it on the substances in his system at the time if he didn't know better.\n\nFingers pressing absentmindedly into Keigo's back with no real pattern, Toya let the silent sit between them once again for a while, gaze going fuzzy as he bit back another couple or tears that threatened to erupt. He took a deep breath in, then exhaled heavily. His eyes would meet Keigo's again as he spoke once more.\n\n\"I-I-I-I-I-I wonnnnnnn't. Pr—omise.\" Toya murmured, jaw tightening as their foreheads made contact. Allowing his arms to drop he wrapped them around Keigo's waist, pulling him as close as possible as he took a couple more deep breaths.\n\n\"Th——ank you.\"" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"Don't thank me...\" He murmured in turn. Their lips brushed as they had many times before. He didn't plan on kissing them, though the touch nearly brought him to tears all over again, reasons he couldn't name. Feelings without a face.\n\nHis eyes upon theirs. Seas to crash upon him and his watery glaze of tears. He wordlessly encouraged those tears to fall, for Touya to release anything- anything at all. A ticking time bomb; nothing to ever break past the seals of the surface. Something had to give. If he were to be useless in every other sense, he'd at least welcome those long restrained tears just as the other had welcomed his all this time.\n\nHis grip loosened on the fabrics of their shirt and he pressed his palm flat to their chest, their heart. Traced the location with his index finger where he knew his name rested, carved into that haggard skin he'd laid his lips upon so many times before. He could recall every minute detail of their body, a fresh image always to resurface in his mind, no matter their covering. They couldn't hide away. He couldn't either. There was nothing they hadn't already seen or done or endured." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "Visibly holding back the tears with how his chest tightened and his neck reeled back in a silent choke, the feeling of their lips softly colliding had the second to last thread break. Another sharp breath in, masking the emotions he'd learned to hide else he get in trouble at the house he grew up in until his teenage years. He was fine. Control was something he was uncomfortably good at.\n\nThe soft tracing of the tattooed initials. Snap.\n\nA soundless sob escaped from the back of Toya's throat, fingers digging into Keigo's hips unintentionally as tears streamed down his face more rapidly than he could stop. Releasing the other, his hands found his face and he aggressively rubbed at his wet eyes, a futile attempt at stopping the emotions. He'd apologize again if he could, this time for being the one who was crying when he'd upset the blond not long before.\n\nSelfish. Toya felt so selfish." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "It's not quite as long, but. </3" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Keigo nodded to himself in thought, watching those tears finally break free, soak the others cheeks. He didn't reach to touch them right away, not at all. That wasn't how this worked. That wasn't the comfort Touya was seeking out right now and if he were to reach and try, he'd probably be shoved back. \n\nIt wasn't something he took too personally. He wasn't much different after all. Neither were all too familair with that Disney channel breed of comfort. The comfort they had always known was unavailable and he knew, the way he watched the other's breaths catch in their throat as their lips teased contact, that he wasn't the only one who felt it. Primal and simplistic, but so easy, it worked until it was over. The aftermath was just that; aftermath.\n\nHis body was in rips, and tears; shards of glass, grains of gravel all ingrained into hideously bloodied flesh. He gave the other's hand a small squeeze before stumbling upward and reaching for his phone, still smeared with dirty fingerprints of red. Dial up the nearest pizza place; probably shitty, but comfort food is comfort food. He didn't care and he knew Touya wouldn't either. \n\n\"...Yeah. Mhm. The address is...\" He played off the breakage of his voice like nothing. For a moment, he sounded just fine. Eerily so. \"...Large pepperoni. Cool, man. Yep. Mhm... Okay... Bye.\" He whipped back around to face Touya. \"You look like shit, man ...Uh- I'll run you a bath and uh- want a beer or a coffee or...? I donno... I might have a few cigaretes laying around somewhere-\"\n\nBefore making for the hall, he stopped by the others side, crouched down. His fingers knotted through the mess of snowy white. \"...You're gonna be fine. ...And even if you're not- even if this gets worse, like fucking unbearable... I'm gonna be here. You only have to say the word, and I'll be here, and you won't have to do this all alone again...\"" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "BRO I READ KEIGO GRABBING TOYA'S HAIR AS LIKE,,, IN AN AGGRESSIVE MANNER FOR A SECOND AND I WAS LIKE \"Honestly yeah he needs that\"." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "It probably was a little agressive honestly" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I had the image of keigo grabbing his hair and just snatching his fucking head back and it made me laugh.\n\nLike bro was trying to break his neck." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Make him almost die all over again" }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "The world was complicated, overly so, and they both were well aware of this factor by now, playing the game of life and trying different ways to connect with others, feel \"Normal\". Such an idea was a luxury not afforded to either of them; Toya had so much money and capability in the palm of his hand and yet that was one thing he'd never be able to take for himself.\n\nThere was a semblance of normalcy with Keigo, no requirement to play the teasing rich boy who had more than most wrapped around his pinky with cheap talk and flashy smiles. Between them, it was dry humor that could only make sense between the two of them, touches that were primal and hungry instead of soft, romantic gestures. They didn't need that, the pleasantries were never needed; it was a connection that lacked a single title or phrase. Soulmates or perhaps star-crossed lovers were the best options, though still not capturing it truly.\n\nWatching for a moment as Keigo pulled away, there was a discomfort in the idea of separation between them, but Toya wouldn't do a thing about it at the moment— it wasn't his call to make. Instead, he opted to just let his feelings out, tears continuing like an endless river until he was able to gather himself enough to cease the tears. Glancing down at his body with blood and various debris on him from none other than Keigo, he stayed quiet. He'd allow the other to address him first, though he wasn't expecting the grip on his hair to be quite as tight as it was; in any other situation, he'd make some sexual joke and grin.\n\n\"..O-O-Okay.\" An acceptance of words, partially because Toya hoped it would be true, but also something more than that. Something in the moment felt different, more like he was being told and the sense of comfort he got from it was more than enough for a short while.\n\n\"G-G-Go bathe first. You're moooooore of a mess-s-s-s-s than m—-e.\" A playful string of words, the ghost of a smile on Toya's expression, though his eyes were hollow. \"'m fi—ine.\"" }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"Only if you join me.\" \n\nKeigo mindless spat back, teasing half heartedly in turn. He snickered at his own joke as he always did, but something was weighing in his tone. An air of breathlessness, strain, hurt. \n\n\"Yell at me if someone come's to the door. I ordered a pizza. Keep, y'know, doing what you're doing. It's good.\"\n\nHe mumbled the last part, a little awkward, almost a little cluelessly squemish with the topic. On the basis of emotion, it was always like pulling teeth between the two of them. Or, maybe a more accurate description; it was like that sex talk parents are supposed to have with their kids. Neither him nor Touya had that though, so touching these topics was just about as uncomfortable as it got. \n\nA limp in his step, he dragged himself down the hall, closed the door a crack in case Touya were to call out, need him, anything. Standing before the bathroom mirror, he tugged at his shirt, had to peel the sticking fabrics from open wounds and the sop of cold sweat on his back. It hurt; this gross pain- gravel and tiny particles of glass slivered, grinding into flesh wounds. The state of his body sickened him. Touya deserved better than to touched by this disgusting monster in the mirror. \n\nHe sighed, pants, boxers, shoes, then socks. Step behind the shower curtain, turn the nozzle. The water burns, though temperature is set to cold. The tiny droplets are digging at the wounds. He rushed himself in discomfort; had to have been five minutes, no more or less before he was out, somewhat clean and dressed again. At least the lot of that strangers blood was off of him. He wouldn't have to play off that shameful state now.\n\nA knock at the door. He was still sorely adjusting his shirt as he made to answer, pay with a dying charge card and turn back to Touya." }, { "author": "Todoroki Toya", "message": "A small, dry chuckle in response to the witty remark came from Toya's chapped lips, only nodding as he watched the other's form retreat into the bathroom. Once the door was shut and the water was being ran, he as an entirety seemed to fall; what little of a smile he had was gone, slumping further into the floor as he hung his head. Staring at the ground for what seemed like forever, it wasn't until the doorbell rang that he made any sort of movement- almost like a marionette, a puppet without its strings being pulled. It's how he felt inside at the moment, hollow like a doll.\n\nRising to his feet slowly, Toya glanced between the bathroom as Keigo was stepping out of it, then returning his gaze back to his own dirtied figure. Opting to just walk in and wash his hands for now, worrying about bathing after they ate, he did just that. He scrubbed his calloused hands aggressively, often how he did to the more mangled and ugly parts of his body that he hid from view. Stuck for about a solid minute, everything just seemed to fade, vision blurred and hands unable to do anything but the continuous motion of scrubbing. He snapped back to reality when he heard the pizza deliverer say a \"Thanks\" And leave. He dried his hands and returned to Keigo's sight quickly.\n\n\"Th-a—-nks.\" Taking the box from the blond, Toya set it down on the kitchen counter before opening, grabbing one plate from the cabinet a moment after. He set it down in front of Keigo, appetite lost." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"No more thanking me.\" He faintly smiled, fixating his gaze down on the plate before him and shaking his head. \"I'm not that hungry.\" His job held some power over him in that way; every splatter of blood to soak between his fingers nauseated him, an absence of hunger for days. Eating was a necessity, a means of survival; never something to enjoy or savour. Every bite was always soured by guilt, this thought, this feeling that he deserved to die of starvation rather than feed into the most human sense of hunger. \"...I just think you should eat something.\"\n\nHe took a few steps back, collapsed against the rickety living space sofa. He patted the free space next to him, caught the others eye as to wordless suggest they join by his side." }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "Only giving a small nod, there was a silence between the two that had Toya thinking— he was *Always* Thinking— even when Death was going to embrace him, his mind spared him no peace. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, teeth clashing against golden staples in his face as his skin healed from the trauma they had recently endured and been broadcasted for the entire world to see. Only those who deserved it would receive peace and Toya was not one of those people, resigning himself to nothing less than some sort of emptiness that took up space.\n\nOnly shaking his head in a dismissive fashion at Keigo, the man quietly put the plate back. He stood there back in his spot after that, as if waiting for something— for someone— to tell him what to do. The other's wordless suggestion had Toya giving a nod, but he fell short just of the couch and looked down at his soiled clothes for a moment.\n\n\"..'m going t-t-toooooooooo show—-er first.\" Looking down at the blond for no more than a moment, Toya couldn't tell if holding eye contact with himself in the mirror or with Keigo was harder anymore." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"Do whatever you gotta do.\" He shrugged away a lingering sense of discomfort. This felt strange, a hailstorm of mixed emotion. He wanted Touya here in his arms just as much as he wanted him dead, just as much as he wanted him gone. Making uncomfortable things go away had become a special talent of his; he hated the way his poisoned mind so often mistook Touya for any other criminal, the way bloody thoughts ruined him and all the love he knew he had for them deep down.\n\nTouya was the one person he refused to bloody. \n\nThere was a Television set, an old one with a thick backing a short distance before the old sofa. It stayed off with that burnt in black screen as Keigo's mind drifted, as his skin crawled. What if Touya doesn't come back again? This loneliness is deadly. This fear is suffocating. \n\nHe feared nothing but this loss. The possibility of losing Touya, losing himself when he had yet to even breathe a breath of fresh air." }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "The moment that Toya got permission to shower— not that he needed it— he turned on his heel and walked off to the bathroom. He mimicked Keigo's earlier actions, leaving the door open a crack if he needed anything or wanted to just come in. It didn't take him long, though double the time that it took Keigo to shower, most of it just spent staring at the shower floor, dark red streaming down the drain.\n\n\"..Wh—aT now?\" The question was mumbled beneath his breath, Toya questioning himself aloud as he stepped out of the shower, grabbing the other towel nearby. He dried himself off with ease, eyes meeting his bare figure for only a moment; it wasn't a pretty one. As if his burns weren't enough, various cuts, bruises, and generalized wounds littered his body; most were self-inflicted. None were deadly nor did they touch the tattoo above his heart— they never would. It was the one spot he'd never been able to ruin, brain telling him that it would destroy the entire pact if he did so; it wouldn't.\n\nSnatching some clean-looking pair of black sweatpants that belonged to the other, Toya aggressively dried his hair before returning to the living room where he let himself basically collapse beside the blond. He still didn't touch him, refusing to make the first contact as if he'd shatter beneath his fingertips. \n\n\"Y—-ou good?\" It was questioned a little aggressively, but emotions were never Toya's forte, something he struggled with himself not to mention others." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "I didn't understand.\n\nI'm kinda dense in case you didn't notice." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Keigo nodded. The pizza sat untouched in its open box by the kitchen counter. He understood the nausea; the way eating, breathing, tending to the basics needs of life could feel like the biggest chore at times, if not always. He wouldn't push it.\n\nSilence again. Not the awkward kind; more of a beckoning for tears. Touya was still here, right next to him. So why did it still hurt? Why was he still mourning the loss? What was this feeling?\nHe hated himself for feeling it, would shake it if he could, if he knew how. Feelings were never his forte.\n\n\"Turn on a show or something.\" He eventually mumbled, laying back, the weight of his spinning head lowered to rest at last in the others lap, legs propped up all dishevelled against the high cushioned backing of the sofa." }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "Humming in acknowledgment of Keigo's words, Toya found the small black remote and turned it on, letting some random channel play. His free hand found its way to the messy blond locks and absentmindedly played with them a bit, fingers much more gentle than the other's from earlier. This was natural, something that they'd been doing since what felt like the beginning of time, as if it was forever meant to be; he didn't mind it if that were the case.\n\nHead tilting backwards, cerulean-blue eyes met a chipped, old ceiling and Toya just let himself space out, memories crossing through his head. It had him letting out a shaky breath, other hand putting the TV remote down on the arm of the couch. He draped the arm across his torso.\n\n\"Ne—-ext time, I'll teeeeeeeell you fi-i-i-i-i-irst.\" Most wouldn't be reassured at all with those words, but Toya knew that there would be a next time because he nor Keigo would get that peace of mind they desperately searched for in this life. When would be the next time? He didn't know, but he wasn't going down alone no matter how selfishly he desired to." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "\"I know...\" He didn't, but it was easier simply to abandon the topic, avoid it until he had the energy and strength to face it as any normal person would. These things took more out of him than they should have.\n\nWith a haggard sigh, a few sore shifts in his position, he turned onto his side, features brushing the bare skin of the others scarred abdomen. What he said next left him, murmured without a second thought.\n\n\"...I'll be damned if this is all we ever are, Touya...\" It sounded like nonsense despite the weight of fear in his tone. It wasn't the first time he'd said such things to the other. There was no way to put it to words; the crushing fear of remaining unchanged, forever staying like this, bound to breathe only in the others presence, live only for this. He longed to escape, do more with his life before an inevitably awaited death in this man's arms." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Toya's shirtless because he's a whore.\n\nHe's just wearing sweatpants." }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "The prospect of living for a prolonged time was an idea Toya had long since given up on, accepting his fate as the one who was going to pull the final trigger in his \"Family\"'s hellish life before pulling it on himself. He'd reduced himself to nothing more than some c-rank villain in his \"Family\"'s life, the first experiment who turned out to be a failure, thrown to the side only to come back and finish everything off from where it started and then die. It was fine— *He* Was fine with that. He'd written his will the second he turned 18, made sure that everything he had would go to each \"Family\" Member respectively and then worked on his plan of revenge. What was there to live for now? Love was a foreign concept to him, only ever experiencing and witnessing some sort of twisted version of that mixed with desperation and repression himself. He didn't blame anyone for that.\n\n\"I-Is there aaaaaaaaanything more fo—-fo—-fo——\" Toya shut his mouth after his more continuous struggle was verbally presented in some way, brows knitted together as his cheeks puffed out in anger. Absentmindedly playing with the other's hair, he opted for silence as to avoid potential annoyance with his continuous stuttering and stammering. He'd apologize if it wasn't for the fact that he knew he'd continue to fumble over his words." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Keigo cut in, looking back up at the other. \"Yes. I know there is. There's gotta be...\" A moment breathless, trembled exhales. Every part of him longed to believe his own words, but they left him like the telling of a fairy tale, and no wonder. That's exactly what it was. Keigo and Touya knew no *Better* World or *Better* Life, the concept was crazy and fantastical. He wanted it though. He wanted nothing more and that. That *Want* Was more for Touya than himself at this point. He would never be fixed or fine, but maybe he'd be a little happier if he could relieve the other of some of this agony. \n\nSomeday. Somehow.\n\n\"I mean...\" A weak smile. He lifted his arm, reached and brushed his fingers along the other's jawline, traced the outline of their features. \"...We can still get married someday. Even if... Everything stays all shitty, we can still do something. We can still make it a bit less lonely, Y'know?\"" }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "A dry chuckle, void of any humor at Keigo's words at the mere thought of such a thing, though he wasn't laughing at him for having some sort of hope for their future. One of them had to, even if it was just some sort of baseless optimism to try and ignore the truth of their rather depressing situation. He looked down as his jaw was softly drawn, the touch far too gentle for the murderer he had a small idea that the other was; he didn't care enough to speak up about the matter.\n\n\"Ri—-ight. If we're sti-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ill single byyyyyy thirty-fi—-ive.\" Recalling briefly when they'd made such a stupid, but fun agreement, it brought a weak smile of his own to Toya's face. Fingers gently knotting and then unknotting are random throughout the blond's hair, he looked at him through exhausted ||pun intended.|| eyes. It wasn't time yet, not for them, no matter how badly he wanted it to be. For Keigo, anyway. He'd been all too prepared to die tonight, losing his priorities along the way." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "*If we're still alive by thirty five...*\n\nHe brushed the saddening reality aside. Touya was more likely to take on a lover than he was. The man was haunted, and so was he, but he still had a shot. He had yet to be stripped of oppurtunties. Keigo's wings had been torn gruesomely from his back before he even knew just how wrong it all was. All he knew then was that he'd never know the feeling of flying, only long for it. He despised Touya for taking that leap, trying to fly without him, leave him to the prison of this ground despite his knowing, how he'd always longed for the freedom of the boundless sky.\n\n*That lump in his throat again. That ache behind the eyes. Don't cry again. Don't do that to them.*\n\n \"Just sayin'...\" His voice dared to break. \"...There's no one else in the whole world I'd rather rot with. I don't care if we're thirty five, I don't care if it's even a a year or two from now. I don't care if we're fifty and have somehow outlasted all this shit...\" He didn't think. With Touya, he almost never did; it always got him in trouble, every time without fail. He took the other's hand, slid it beneath the fabrics of his shirt to press it up against his heart, the texture of small, familiar lettering laid against the skin. \"...Your name isn't ever gonna leave my body. I'll always be here. I'll always wait...\" \n\n*Marked into my soul. Marked into my story. Marked forever into my mind.*\n\nHe propped himself up just slightly, sitting up in a lazy slouch before the other, leaning forward, pressing his hand to their heart in turn and resting his forehead to their shoulder, where his breaths trembled and his lips brushed, absently pressing to kiss the patch of pale living skin beneath them.\n\n*Warm.*" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Shut up this is so sickeningly sad and cute.\n\nI'm going to scream rn.\n\nI'm offended you didn't acknowledge my pun.\n\nI lost my previous shawty.\n\nYou're my new shawty.\n\nI DIDNT MEAN IT LIKE THAT." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Ofc bby gurl tell me your idea in dms" }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "A moment of silence. It was all Toya needed for his mind to wordlessly whisper some cruel things and trigger some unsavory memories. He drew in a sharp breath, fingers very lightly tugging on soft blond hair for a second before releasing it entirely. Why was he even here right now? It wasn't hard to get away from Kai once he'd fallen asleep, wouldn't have been much harder to end his own life instead of sitting in this dilapidated apartment. Swallowing any saliva he could as if he was dehydrated, his gaze was looking through Keigo like a ghost instead of the living person he was for just a moment.\n\nGentle kisses and genuine words snapped Toya back to reality. He blinked once, then twice, then a third time. A tear slid down his face. Another followed as his burnt finger tips brushed against his own initials carved into the other man. He wanted to scream.\n\n\"I—m sorrYyy I can't se-e-e-e-e-e-e-t you free.\" He knew about his hold on Keigo. Of course he did, he wasn't blind and a fool. Nails lightly scraping against the other's tattoo, part of him wished he could rip the patch of skin right off of the other's chest and replace it like a brand new band-aid. That wouldn't work either, the black ink ran far deeper than the eye could ever see. A shaky sigh left him, free hand absentmindedly pulling at his waist to pull him closer, staring back up at the ceiling as lips covered his skin. He'd let Keigo go eventually, hopefully. All birds needed to spread their wings eventually, leave the nest and feel the sky for their own. He couldn't bring himself to let Keigo have that freedom yet." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "This wasn't as angsty as i liked.\n\nOr just as good as i wanted.\n\nI'm an actual genius." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Birds in cages see the outside world. They long for it; fly in the clouds, live the life they're supposed to live— natural and good, the way things are supposed to be. The irony? Once that cage door opens, and the illusion of choice is set before the bird, some will fly away never to return, and those birds live as they're supposed to live, untethered and unbothered. There are a few birds though, that stay in that cage, view that fantastical world only ever dreamed about as a sudden enemy. Some birds are scared and limited. Some birds are born only to have their wings clipped. Some birds are bound to the cages, and some simply just don't want to be free when entrapment is all they've ever known. There's comfort to be found in the poisonous limitations.\n\nTouya was a cage. The door had always been open, Keigo always had the choice. It's cruel though, because his wings had long been clipped. He could leave, but he'd fall. He'd collapse from the suspended height of that cage and die, or at least that's what he feared. \n\n\"I don't want you to set me free..\" He almost begged, eyes set alight with the poor repression of tears that had swelled to the surface and trembled daringly against his inflamed waterlines. To be free was to be untethered. To be free was to be alone. To be alone was to die. Keigo sought out new freedom, chained to the heart of another, and it was nearly impossible. Holding out hope devoured every ounce of his energy, and he was tired. Tired of trying and holding this smile that left the muscles of his face to ache. Those burning tears fell and soaked his cheeks. His lips quivered, and his fingers curled in against the others skin. He lifted his head, brought his forehead again to theirs and wordlessly begged for something— anything.\n\nDesperate. His heart and soul had long married to the others. To be bound to Touya, his being eternally bled. He hurt in every way a human could hurt. He swore sometimes he couldn't withstand this a moment longer. Their lips brushed again. He didn't pull back this time, he didn't have it in him, one hand reaching, holding the side of Touya's cheek. \n\nA weak bout of laughter as his eyes met theirs. Those eyes were still just as haunting. Those eyes still occupied every canvas. A terrible work of art." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Stop. They're so cute and sad and fucking gay.\n\nTwo options for how toya would reply.\n\nOne is he gets a little physical (he wouldn't hurt keigo, he's just lashing out) or two he becomes extra gay. They're gay both ways, but." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Which are you leaning towards because truth is both responses are gay as shit\n\nAnd I can see him doing either or" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "That's why i asked." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "They start fighting and then it ends on the gayest note of all" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "See but i don't want a fight.\n\nBecause i feel bad." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Then just make it gay 😭\n\nAlso, Keigo's a murderer, don't feel bad for him" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Murder is,,,, excusable sometimes." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Yes but Keigo is hhh\n\nIf it ends on a gay note, you don't have to feel bad because they make up\n\nOr if it starts on a gay note and ends with a fight later, it's the latter" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Once my wi-fi stops being fucking homophobic on my laptop." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Imma start listening to music in vc once I finish sorting out my meds" }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Have fun with that." }, { "author": "mikehuntandballs", "message": "Gonna have the time of my life yippee" }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "Red-Tailed Hawks, the oldest bird of prey to be tamed and used for hunting, generalized usage to their humans. Keigo was like a flightless bird and the wing-like scars on his back reminded Toya of just that; he picked out the nickname \"Birdie\" For him as a joke shortly there after. Just as he was jokingly called \"Patchwork\", there was no ill-intent behind it though there was a wordless symbolism behind it without any realization.\n\nRed was a color that had always suited Keigo regardless of where it came from, the absolute opposite color of Toya's that could mix together no matter how messily to create a much gentler color of its own. Wings of a stunning red, Toya could always see him with such a color if the blond ever had such things. Red-Tailed Hawks were the closest to having a color like that and the specific breed of hawk fit the other well. Mating for life, typically at a young age and then never straying from the one they've found; they were of extreme use to their handler, doing what they were asked and always obediently sticking to them. If Keigo was a hawk, Toya was his handler. Sharp talons sinking into their handlers skin they were still loyal, even when the handler tried to set them free.\n\nFearful words filled Toya's ears and he slowly brought his eyes back to Keigo's face, watching the silent plea he gave him. It was cruel for him to keep Keigo on his shoulder, always waiting for his next move or word just as it was cruel for him to simply let him go like that. They couldn't win either way, *He* Couldn't win either way and he'd accepted that, but he'd never intended to entangle another in his mess. Going back wasn't an option anymore, if it ever had been in the past. Perhaps if they hadn't met in the bathroom that fateful school day they wouldn't be in this mess. A calloused hand reached up, thumb lightly swiping across Keigo's cheekbone as the tears fell from his eyes." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "Their lips met. It's what most people call a kiss. Keigo never knew what to call it really, because it didn't feel romantic or sexual or even exciting like people say it's supposed to be. The contact is held, his lips are always chapped against the others, who's piercings would snag at his skin. It's warm at the surface, indescribably cold beyond that. Shameful second nature to fall back into Touya's arms, his touch, his words. He'd been addicted to obtainable material things all his life, but nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to the depressing desperation he felt for this person, this comfort, this home he'd found for himself as a lost little thing. \n\nHe felt selfish, melting against the other's body as they continously pulled him in closer. No, it wasn't romantic, it wasn't anything but a touch he always forgot he craved, but it was still a kiss. It was still his skin to theirs, the salt of his tears to mix and mingle with theirs. He shuddered, just barely parted, his eyes set upon theirs, only once or twice darting back down to their lips, which he felt the need to lean back in and touch with his own once again.\n\n\"Sorry...\"" }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "Working up from the side of Keigo's face to the back of his head, fingers absentmindedly tangled themselves in damp blond locks. Instinct took over, a habit of deepening it for just a moment took over him as his hand pushed their heads closer. Quickly disappearing, his lips felt cold without the warmth they were used to but he didn't dare change that- he couldn't. He wouldn't. Opting for a slow exhale instead he watched Keigo's inner conflict through his eyes, staying quiet as he waited for a response back. Finally an apology broke the silence, though not fallen from his lips for once and it had one pierced eyebrow raise a little.\n\n\"D—on't apolllllllogize. Wha-a-a-a-a-a-atever you want is-s———is yours.\" It almost felt wrong to say such a thing after wronging Keigo in the worst way he could have ever possible managed to. Tongue tasting bitter, he sought the other's taste as a sort of way to wash it away as if it would undo his betrayal. Self-control was something that he had much of, dangerously patient when under the right circumstances and this was one of those times where he had to bite his tongue, stay still and silent. Acting on his impulses were not something he had the luxury of doing, not right now, not when the most consistent person in his life clung to him. Staples lightly snagging on the other's shirt as he moved, Toya hardly noticed it; he hardly noticed most anymore." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "Not good at all, but i tried." }, { "author": "Keigo Takami", "message": "It was so wrong. They both knew it. Keigo cursed his instincts. Dig those talons into the other's marred flesh and tear them to shreds before serving them with every ounce of his life, every breath he could muster. He had to destroy them before he destroyed himself; He couldn't be the only one to drown. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn't benefit, he hurt to act as he did. This wasn't for him, it wasn't for Touya, it wasn't for anyone. It felt closer to nature; raw and primal, than anything else he'd ever known, always returning to this venomous vice. Their taste was his cure, though it was only ever temporary. To part, he was cold and deathly and filled with pain all over again. Maybe that's why he leaned back in, tangled a few loose strands of white between his trembling fingers, and allowed those lips to collide and soon overlap with his once again.\n\nBitter. Bitter but warm. That warmth is addictive.\n\nHe'd already mourned the loss of them so much, it felt as though he was kissing a corpse. He feared his tears would corrode them. They deserved better than this but he couldn't give them better. Not right now, not like this, not after everything. He was used to holding them as they bled, but it was his turn to bleed now, as humiliating as it was. His mask fell, just for a moment, maybe two. Sometimes it was too tiring to keep holding it up." }, { "author": "@TodorokiToya", "message": "Acting purely on nature and animalistic instinct was an oddly freeing feeling. No sort of thought process was necessary in those moments, caution thrown to the wind as simplistic actions such as this were acted upon by the two. Charming others was something Toya had picked up quickly and back in his younger years, flowery words that were sugarcoated sliding off of a silver-tipped tongue like blood to a blade. Attention was addicting and other people could help patch the hole embedded into his burnt heart, but only one person could truly fill it. Somebody who surely wanted nothing to do with him now if he ever did before. He'd accepted that the hole would never be filled, but to acknowledge that any chance of such a thing was completely ruined was another feeling entirely. He swallowed the pain down with the kiss that Keigo initiated.\n\nToya would sit like this for as long as Keigo needed, hands grasping at the warm body beneath his shirt habitually. Calloused thumbs brushed uncharacteristically gently against scarred skin, outlining patterns that he'd memorized over the years. Deepening the kiss for only a moment, he pressed their lips impossibly closer together as if they weren't flush against each other already. Threads and cotton meshed together hardly mattered in these situations, chests practically flushed against one another. He wouldn't be the first to break the kiss no matter how badly his lungs screamed for air, every act he'd make tonight from here on out was for Keigo and because of Keigo. His soul and being was Keigo's eternally." }, { "author": "exhausted8808", "message": "EX'S SECOND EVER FINISHED RP SINCE 2015." } ]

[ { "author": " aizawa shouta !", "message": "** **\n** **✦ ︵ ﹕ ꒰ ྀི ー ♡ **Ping**﹕ \n\n**ㅤ** 𒄬 ` . ⑅ ♡゙" }, { "author": "aurrstar", "message": "Its so good looing bro" }, { "author": "razzmatatsu", "message": "[ i take PRIDE in my cooking ]" }, { "author": "venven_raven", "message": "My headers abt to look goofy asf in compression 😨" }, { "author": "@@.. Selyse Foret | @ .@ ", "message": "•—— ・❥・⋆·˚ ༘ * ୨୧ ⋆·˚ ༘ * ୨୧ ・❥・ ——•\n\n\n ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ~* *~Sky's are prone to stay off-gray clouds are omens too fading at the rate most pleasant memories do~*\" ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ࿐ྂ\n\n– ,, He walked down the halls, a neutral expression being worn by the male. His eyes remained directed towards the ground, giving an occasional glance up every time he passed a classroom door. He walked at a decently fast pace, though didn't seem rushed. But more like he just had somewhere to be. He didn't bother looking at any of the people he passed, either choosing not to acknowledge them at all, or giving a small nod. He glanced down at his phone to check the time, untucking the device from his pocket. There was still probably around 25-30 minutes left before lunch would be over, and the next class would start.\n\n– ,, Which was good for him. Since that meant he had plenty of time to drop off the homework he had finished late without anyone noticing. He'd turn the corner, staring at the closed door of the classroom. Good. It was closed, which hopefully meant no one else was in there yet? He checked the small window that was located on the door, gratefully seeing that no one was there. He quietly opened the door, half-heartedly expecting the door to be locked. He let out a relieved sigh, having not felt the resistance from the door since it had just opened.\n\n– ,, He stepped inside, standing there for a second as he quietly closed the door. He crouched down for a second, taking his backpack off of his shoulders and pulling out the homework. He'd stand up fully, walking his way toward the desk. Since Shouta was underneath the desk and Selyse hadn't yet leaned over enough to see him, he hadn't noticed the other yet. He looked down at his papers, double checking a few of his answer to ensure that they actually were correct. He squinted slightly at his own handwriting.\n\nHe genuinely couldn't tell if he had bad handwriting, or if his dyslexia was just acting up. Either way, he couldn't exactly read it at the moment. He sighed, simply just placing the paper down on the desk. Oh well, he honestly couldn't care less about the homework at the moment." } ]

[ { "author": "* ' HANTA SERO ))", "message": "*𝗛𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗔 𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗗 𝗢𝗨𝗧 into the garden, the summer air filled with the sweet fragrance of the flowers blooming in all the vibrant colors of the rainbow. He'd been waiting for Melanie to arrive for their photoshoot and had decided this was the perfect place to shoot the photos they needed for the contest. Taking a few deep breaths, he looked around the garden, admiring the beauty of the colors and textures scattered across the grounds. He had brought his vintage camera with him, the one he usually used for his photography, but in order to win the contest he knew they would need to use something more modern. Taking a minute to get familiar with this new and much more modern camera that his photography teacher gave to him, he set it up on the stand and waited for Melanie to arrive. He was really hoping that they could both be winners of the contest, but he knew they would need to take some amazing shots to make that happen.*\n\n*Releasing a long breath, Hanta prepared for the photoshoot. He was ready to make some __magic__ happen.*\n\n*While waiting, Hanta chose to admire the beauty of the garden, he noticed a little patch of chrysanthemums and smiled. He remembered that Melanie had texted him earlier about her mom and flowers, and so he decided to pick three of the yellow chrysanthemums for her. Carefully, he brushed away any dirt or debris that was stuck in the petals before placing them in his pocket.*" }, { "author": "aurrstar", "message": "Criyng why did it ake me so long to write that garbage" }, { "author": ": MELANIE - SHIN !", "message": "* She steps out of her dorm and locks the door, her bag draped over her shoulder as she begins to walk. She's feeling nervous, letting out an exhale as she tries to calm her nerves a little. Photo contest? Taking pictures? She's not used to any of that, especially even seeing her own picture be put to use. It makes sense for her, unfortunately, since she didn't have a single photo of her ever taken or even put out in her mother's condo- well, that's the only place she visits family in. It's nerve-wrecking, and even with all the time they had and all the practice she had done before, she's still a little anxious. But, she continues walking until she recognizes her surroundings, the scent of fresh grass and flowers and bursts of vibrant colors on the bushes and trees. She's at the garden.\n\n* She sees Sero, about to greet him, before she notices something in his hands. With a grin, she sits down on one of the benches, letting her bag plop down beside her as she waits for him to turn around, wanting to surprise him a little." }, { "author": "aurrstar", "message": "Theyve probably like never met face to face right?" }, { "author": "* ' HANTA SERO ))", "message": "*𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥 the soft footsteps behind him before he even turned around. He knew who it was and so he took a deep breath before standing up and turning around on his heel. He wanted to be prepared and not look too anxious, so he took the yellow chrysanthemums out of his pocket, so they wouldn't get crushed and crumpled. When the tape-fanatic finally faced her, he was glad he had taken the precaution. Melanie was even prettier than her profile picture, if that was even possible. She looked like just her face alone could win the art contest! The sun shone through the trees casting a golden hue on her face, and Hanta could feel the corners of his mouth turning up into a slightly goofy and toothy smile as Melanie looked back at him.*\n\n*Hanta extended his hand and pointed two finger-guns at her, *\"There she is!\" *He said happily, walking up to her and handing her the yellow chrysanthemums. He handed Melanie the yellow chrysanthemums. He offered her a goofy smile along with the flowers.*\n\n\"For you!\" *He said cheerfully, gesturing to the flowers.* \"There's actually a bunch of cool-ass flowers around here. I don't really come to this side of school often.\" *He chuckled while speaking his words, but then he made a quiet \"Oh!\" Before turning around to grab his bag.* \"Do you want some snacks or anything - I have some chocolate things and a few granola bars,\" *He said, pulling out the snacks from his bag.*" }, { "author": ": MELANIE - SHIN !", "message": "* Seeing Sero for the first time, literally ever, she flashes him a kind smile, though her eyes squinted from the sun hitting her face, a hand covering said hue to protect her eyes from its strong glare. But she keeps her smile about to stand up, when Sero comes up to her instead.\n\n\"Hey- Oh, what's this?\"\n\n* She looks down at her hands, now suddenly holding a tiny bouquet, consisting of amber-yellow chrysanthemums, the memories of her speaking about getting some sparking in her head again. It brings an even wider smile to her face, amused.\n\n\"Awe, these for me? Thank you,,\"\n\n* She's a bit awkward when it comes to receiving gifts, but she keeps her composure, lightly tilting her head to the side as she stared down at the flowers. They're healthy, fresh, and they smell sweet, its floral-y aroma enough to warm her heart. It's really generous, and knowing that there are already tons of flowers he could just pick from, she finds herself holding the flowers gently, putting them in her front pocket not to ruin them, careful with its delicate petals. She watches Sero grab granola bars from his bag, before she immediately declines.\n\n\"No, no it's okay! I'm not that hungry, it's fine, but thank you, again-\"" } ]

[ { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "His phone was buzzing in his pocket. He briefly skimmed over his screen.\n\n**I should be there shortly. I had no idea if you enjoy coffee or not so I ordered smoothies instead**\n\nThe bell rang, students flooded out of the classrooms and stampeded through the open hallways, congesting every inch of open space and chattering uselessly amongst each other about nothing. Bodies collide, the stenches of sweat and perfume disgustingly melt into one conjoined scent, incomprehensible noise erupts in every corner. Bathroom first; weaving through the bodies, met with eyerolls and mumbled curses. No one is patient here; everyone is always competing, racing for all the time in the world. \n\nTwo guys were smoking near the urinals and glaring daggers as he eyed himself in the mirror- a large pane of thin glass pinned to the wall, hanging just above the sinks. He tousled his hair, pawed a few layers of icy tap water onto his features, dried with the sleeve of his shirt. He hated modeling and everything about it with a burning passion. Live, eat, breathe and sleep, simply to be seen, destroyed and devoured by the greedy public eye. Modeling is just a pretty way to lose your humanity, and the world thrives on witnessing every single second of it.\n\nBack into the hall, faceless figures drown out his existence as he drags himself towards the exit. He'd left the man without a response; the dumb bastard was coating steaming dog shit in sugar at this point. And the irony? He didn't ever need to be convinced in the first place, not really. Any money was good money; any distraction was a good distraction. His thoughts had a way of wringing his neck, every spare moment spent in the day. It was a slow and painful death that he was still fighting to prolong. \n\nParking lot; vehicles, old and new alike, whirred by, rolling out of their designated stalls in the rewarding return back to normal life. His shoes knocked to the cracked pavement, every step he took. A man near the back of the lot had managed to capture his attention; two cups in hand and an expectant look in the eye. He didn't belong here and it was obvious. The washed out blue ensemble churned his insides with disgust. The collar of his jacket was a crime against humanity. \n\nExcessive denim; no sane person dressed like that. With the roll of his eyes, he stepped forward, critically eyed the man up and down, one hand on the hip.\n\n\"You're the guy?\"" }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "Tsunagu was relaxed. He was most definitely not freaking out because one of his assistants had made him realize how creepy his offer had seemed. He had freaked out but that was okay. He would show the kid his official papers, show him around the office and then they could go do some strands. It would be fine, everything would go alright. \n\nHe leaned up against his car, holding two smoothies from some overpriced grocery store, unsure if the kid in front of him would even like it. Tsunagu let out a soft sigh. He didn't want to look like a loser in front of his hopeful intern. He stood a little taller and pulled down the front of the collar. His whole face on display. \n\n\"That I am, you can call me Mr Hakamada. One second, I have my full ID right here.\" \n\nHe pulled out his ID, it wasn't anything flashy, just a simply ID. He hoped this would possibly assuage any sort of nerves the teen in front of him had. Handing over the smoothie Tsunagu opened up the passenger door and inclined his head slightly. \n\n\"The agency isn't too far from here. If you'd prefer I can pick a cafe nearby. Full of people and if you have any desire to leave I can call you an Uber in an instant.\"\n\nTsunagu took a deep breath and tried his best to relax. He was overwhelmed already, first he had woken up late, then his assistants had fucked up the entirety of the seven spreadsheets that needed to be submitted for expenses that day. He had never intended to seem as if he was a creep, and even more so he was anxious that this teen would assume the worst of him. Truthfully he had seen some older photos of the teen and instantly saw a bit of a spark. Maybe it was a familiar feeling he got when he looked at a younger version of himself, but he wanted to analyze this kid.\n\n*Though being referred to as \"The guy\" Was mentally painful*" }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "Never before had he met an adult so incredibly eager for his business. Most adults don't bother and he liked it that way. This guy was a real tryhard in contrast. He hummed with amusement, hardly giving the ID card a second glance as he buckled into his seat, swung his legs up against the dashboard.\n\n\"Take me to the agency.\"\n\nHe grumbled, rolling his eyes. Did he seem hesitant? Fearful? If he did, he certainly hadn't paid any mind to it. Though Hakamada irritatingly did. He shooed their offers away, leaned back in the passenger's seat. Just beyond the tinted glass of the window by his door, the world whipped by, almost a blur. His mind drifted; this man, Hakamada, had clearly familiarized himself with Katsuki's work, and, in turn, Katsuki knew everything there was to know of Hakamada's agency. \n\nWhile he had stood on uneven grounds with his mother for years now, he would have to be a real ass to disacknowledge how far her drive and ambition had led her. Starting small, she rose up. Doubt turned to praise and she relished in it. Though she'd eventually taken to working exclusively with A-Lister clientele, she'd always prioritized him as a project on the side. He rose with her. Sometimes he was grateful for it, sometimes he passionately resented her for throwing him in front of those cameras. He couldn't say no at that age, especially not to her.\n\nAge fourteen, he pulled away. U.A. Was top priority, all consuming. That, and some other shit, blurry in his mind to look back at now.\nBeing chosen like this, he was deserving and then he wasn't. It was hard to make heads or tails." }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "Tsunagu took a quick breath as they car cruised towards the agency. His hands no longer feeling as clammy. He quickly took a look towards Katsuki. There was so much in that kid that he couldn't help but feel like they were similar in some ways. So, against his better judgment he tapped the console screen and up came the music app. With a small gesture he spoke. \n\n\"Pick whatever you want as long as it's not too long. We should be at the agency in another ten minutes, traffic seems to have picked up right by the agency. If you don't want to I can just play my own, though I am pretty sure you wouldn't like to hear classical music for the rest of the drive.\"\n\nIt was true. Tsunagu was always boring when it came to his musical tastes, only his workshop knew of his love for metal music. With that he went silent again. His eyes occasionally flashing towards his watch to check the time. They should be there by 11, finish the tour at 11:30 and then they would have enough time to grab lunch and negotiate when at one of Tsunagu's favorite restaurants by noon. If all went well he'd have the young blonde as his official intern the very next day. \n\nThe car continued to move on. The drive was perfectly smooth and his seats were a little too comfortable. Unfortunately wearing that high of a collar gets warm, and so the moment they stopped at a red light the taller blonde unzipped the collar of the jacket and removed the whole thing. Hastily folding it and placing it in the backseat before the light turned green. Then he clicked the button and the roof began to retract. The moment the roof was fully down he pulled out two pairs of designer sunglasses from the center console. Donning one himself he handed the other to Katsuki. Right after a mischievous thought entered his head and without another thought he was already turning to Katsuki. \n\n\"I actually have another idea, you don't mind going a little *Faster* Do you? We'd get to the agency in about three minutes instead of ten.\"" }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "All these offers, all these choices. Katsuki couldn't really bring himself to care. He reached forward and dialed up the volume of whatever song had already been playing on the current station, and yes, it was the classical music he'd already been forewarned about. No problem with that, he was guilty of having similar tastes, which was a ridiculously embarrassing secret only Izuku knew about. Surely, others would consider it bland or boring or outdated. Though, there was something indescribably powerful about the way the musicians back then had spewed their stories, millions of words at a time, only their treasured instruments in hand. It was like magic, and, best of all, no one in any single one of the songs was ever fucking talking. \n\n\"Wow, three minutes over ten? Don't get too crazy.\" \n\nHe'd scoffed, sarcasm bitterly drenching every word to pass his lips. The man had admittedly managed to surprise him though. Most of the bastards he'd wasted away his time and energy on over the years had treated him like nothing than a rock on the sidewalk, simply being kicked along, more of a burden to take on than anything. Expendable. The contrast was uncanny. The fact that Hakamada even knew who he was had him a little shocked; his name hadn't held much relevance for the past few years now. The media is stupid like that; setting its willing victims alight. As long as there's fuel for the fire, the victims will continue to burn. When there's nothing more to give or feed that algorithm, all that's left is a mess of ash and coal. He burned when it was relevant to burn, he died away as soon as he began to tire.\n\nHe could get used to this refreshing change of pace; a break away from monotonous daily life, a chance at starting over, this time, in control. Still, doubt overshadowed optimism. This industry was built on lies, how much of this bullshit could he really shrug off? How much of this was worth a second thought, let alone a moment's worth of consideration? Fuck, why did he even bother? Whatever the reason, he was here now, and he had to at least say that he'd tried. \n\nAnother offer. He glared down at Hakamada's hand, of course full with another strange thing for the taking; not a smoothie this time, instead, designer shades. They were ridiculously bedazzled and probably a couple hundred dollars by the looks of it. He took them and adjusted them against the bridge of his nose, lowered his window down, and finally nodded for Hakamada to speed the fuck up." }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "Tsunagu chuckled, he adjusted his shades, and then tightened his grip on the wheel. Taking his last sip of the smoothie Tsunagu's foot slammed on the gas pedal. The car instantly took off. His body slightly pressing up against the seat from the sheer speed. Sharply turning corners, weaving between other cars and then suddenly it stopped. The car was now sitting in front and Tsunagu removed his shades, tossed them somewhere in the backseat and pressed a button that brought back the roof. He opened up the car door and stepped, out. Turning back to Katsuki with a small smile. \n\n\"What was that about speeding up? Please use less cross language within the agency, it's improper.\" \n\nThe taller blonde took a few steps up the stairs before he was met with his assistants, all of them crowding around him and asking him irrelevant questions. Yes he wanted another smoothie, make it two more actually. No he was not attending a meeting on wether or not the new collection would include poke dots. Yes he wanted his reservation for 12:30 still. On and on until Tsunagu huffed and waved them all off. Turning towards Katsuki he gestured towards the building. \n\n\"This is the Jeanist Agency, my office is on the top floor but if you wish to explore for a while I have a few miscellaneous tasks that need to be done on the lower floors before I can retreat to my office. Please take care not to yell too loudly, people here are working with extremely sharp tools, and I do not want to deal with another cut off finger.\" \n\nHe opened the doors and the agency was nothing like the media claimed it to be. There was occasional shouts, calls from other sides of the floor. People scurrying around with papers, handing things to Hakamada. Even someone who came and took the taller blondes jacket when he held it out. All the while Tsunagu had a smile on his face. \n\n\"This place will become your workplace should you decide to work here full time, you'll enjoy it here, even if they are odd..\"" }, { "author": "Bakugou Katsuki", "message": "Hakamada was a fucking pyschopath on the road. Never in his life had Katsuki ever experienced anything quite like it. You'd think someone in the back seat was dying, the way this man just about missed every corner in the drifting of overworked wheels, the way those tires screeched out in pain with every jarring slam to the brakes. Biggest mystery to date; how the fuck hadn't he been arrested yet? Not just a slap on the wrist, a jail cell.\n\nIn front of the agency, the car screeched terribly to a halt, another near death experience; the 500th in the past three minutes. Follow the leader, he stumbled inside after Hakamada, dizzy, probably bound to bury his face in a trash can and hurl in the next few minutes. Hakamada blathered on as numerous assistants rushed to his wordless command. Where did they even come from? Was this routine? Gross. They all seemed weak and pitiful, even if he was arguably a league below them. Or, at least supposed to be. Nothing but an intern, a clueless one at that, hundred dollar sunglasses and smoothies aside.\n\nBefore Hakamada could even finish his sentence, Katsuki was off, finding his way around the building. He was never really known for his patience. Down the halls, his eyes set the destination, his legs dragged him along. The place was a little more modest than most of the agencies he'd worked in; a kitchen space, a few bathrooms, a series of small, but quaintly personalized offices, and a larger room stock full of materials of every sort; hair care, makeup, sewing equipment, mannequin displays galore. \n\nIt came on suddenly again as he surveyed the space; dread, apprehension, a lump in his throat.\n\nGod knew he didn't need a repeat. Then again, he wasn't just shit beneath this guy's shoe; he was sought out for this. His business was wanted here. *He* Was wanted here. Up the stairs, back down again. He reacquainted himself with Hakamada, who, again, was being swarmed by thirsty assistants, probably all seeking out a raise. He spoke over them.\n\n\"So, where am I s'posed to work?\"" }, { "author": "ai.+@Tsunagu Hakamada RRi /\\-", "message": "Tsunagu turned towards Katsuki. The teenager was impatient that was clear. Though the taller blonde wasn't sure it was from curiosity or anxiety. Then he watched the young man's expression change, he seemed to be suddenly burdened by something. Tsunagu felt that Katsuki didn't really desire to discuss it. So he ignored it and focused on the question at hand. \n\n\"Ah, where you will work? You will work no where here, come, I'll show you.\" The blonde man turned away and walked into the elevator. Giving just enough time to allow Katsuki into the lift he pressed the highest floor. The glass elevator looked over the entirety of the agency, hundreds of people at work and Tsunagu practically looked upon them as if he was a king. Albeit a semi unenthusiastic one but a king nonetheless. He gently filed his nails before stepping out just as the elevator opened. Revealing a small hallway and a card reader.\n\nWithout a word Tsunagu pulled the keycard from his pocket, swiped it and the large French doors opened up. The entire floor was an office, windows from floor to ceiling, a large desk facing the interior, multiple couches, though one of them looked slightly more worn than the others. Large spools of fabric hanging from built in racks. A massive sewing table with a high tech machine, multiple mannequins, hundreds of photos strewn about a corner that had dozens of magazines stacked up upon one another. Finally there sat a new desk, right next to the bigger, and older one, it was newer, with a computer, binder, a clipboard and a little cup of pens to really bring it all together. That was the workspace Tsunagu pointed at.\n\n\"That is where you will work. I wouldn't be the best mentor if I left you to your own devices the entirety of your internship now would I? You will do smaller tasks that I assign you throughout the day. When I take breaks so shall you. I neglected to say it before so I shall say it now. I officially welcome you to the Jeanist Agency, Katsuki Bakugo.\"" } ]

[ { "author": "Mina Ashido | @Pinky", "message": "*Mina wore joggers and a sweater, she wasn't actively trying to impress anyone today. She just wanted to be comfortable and warm, which she did achieve. Mina kept looking at the building as she creeped closer, her curiousity growing more then ever. The clicking of Mina's boots were growing louder as she walked onto marble flooring instead of concrete, she found that interesting. Mina looked around in awe, she'd never seen something quite like this. Clothing, groceries, toys, electronic section, shoes, food, there was almost everything you'd ever want. Mina obviously quickly walked to the clothing section because she wa interested to see what clothes this store offers. Feeling the fabric on her finger tips, so soft, and she liked the texture of it all.*\n\n__\"Oh my god, this is so cute!!\"__\n\n*Mina said as she grabbed the shirt that had little bunnies on it. Mina took out her phone to talk to people about being in Walmart. Her phone was a pretty hot pink, with yellow accents on it, she also had a little alien design on it. Mina typed fast as she could, just genuinely excited to see something like this. What prompted her to come here was to get some candy for her movie night that she was going to do. She hadn't invited anyone because she was wanting to watch a drama, not many people watch keeping up with the Kardashians. Mina thought it wouldn't be many peoples cup of tea. Although despite being in awe, she was also slightly troubled... She didn't know where anything was. Of course there were signs to say where things were but she clearly didn't see them. Mina's eyebrow furrowed as she wondered around, not really knowing where to go. Not wanting to get lost even more, after all, this was a big store.*\n\n╞═══════ Pɪɴɢ: ||" }, { "author": "Maya", "message": "୨⎯ \"I carry my burdens alone\" \n\n**The air had been freezing like as if it was a blizzard in New York City. Maya had a couple times where she felt this cold even with a jacket on, but it didn't stop her from getting groceries, Maya had been bundled up by her yellow hoodie, scarf with little llamas on it with llama printed pajama pants with a crop top underneath. Maya had been too silly and forgot that a hoodie would never do her justice in weather like this. \"I regret not getting the big coat.. Oh well this'll just have to suffice for now until I get into Walmart\". Maya had seen how the sky was grey and seeing how many people walked down the streets New York City. It hadn't been new to her because she has been staying here for a couple years now at a apartment complex while doing college, Maya had graduated not too long ago and became a Journalist. She didn't show it much but her pride is in her Journalism. \n\nMaya tugged on her braids because they were getting loose and she needed to fix them when she got back home. Maya's Hair was thick, a little long and fluffy a little, She looked at the people walking by her and just kept on moving. She lived too far from Walmart! Eventually after crossing a couple more blocks she was at Walmart. \n\nShe stepped into the automatic opening doors and was hit by a wave of heat that felt so nice. Her face almost felt numb due to the cold outside, She grabbed a cart and began walking into the actual warehouse part of the store scrolling through the frozen foods section as she grabbed Tv Dinners, premade chicken nuggets, Chicken tenders, wings you name it! Maya then headed into the cereal section grabbing a couple boxes. \"Is this too much?\" She said to herself \"Nah i dont think it is\" Maya needed new Pajamas so she crossed the cereal aisle and strolled into the pajama section looking for some. She set her cart aside grabbing a couple pajama items and then putting it in the cart. \"I need milk, eggs, butter!\" \n\nPing: <\n\n\"I carry my burdens alone\" \n\nMaya had looked at her groceries list and candy was on the list. \"Ah yes i need this for that..\" She said walking down the aisle and into the other aisle where the candy was. She grabbed a couple things of her favorite candy. Walking down the clothes aisle she saw a particular clothing item that interested her and she walked up to it. It was a llama shirt with little llamas on it \"THIS IS SO CUTE!!\" She exclaimed. She put it in the cart and walked down the aisle. \n\nShe wrapped up in that Aisle as she was walking out of it she bumps into a pink woman. \"Oh sorry ma'am\" She said in a sincere tone. \n\nPing:" }, { "author": "Mina Ashido | @Pinky", "message": "╞══ Wʜᴀᴛ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏ? Rᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ? ══╡\n\n*Mina was too much in her head to pay attention to her surroundings. Debating if she should ask for help in the student group chat. Suddenly she felt someone bump into, taking her by surprised but she hoped the other person didn't get hurt. Mina couldn't help but to think that this was partly her fault. She should have seen someone coming out of the aisle.*\n\n__\"Gosh, I should have been paying attention..__\n\n**\"I'm so sorry! I should have been paying attention! It's my first time in this store, I kinda got lost haha!\"** *Mina said in a worried tone as she smiled at this person she hasn't seen before.*\n\n*Mina had talked like they were friends and Mina was super friendly. Mina could feel heat coming from her neck, to her face. Feeling a bit embarrassed, she hoped she didn't ruin this person's day. A bit of hope arose in Mina, maybe this person could help her! Mina then noticed the shirt and the outfit the girl was wearing and Mina was loving it.*\n\n**\"I love your outfit so much, it's so cute!!\"**\n\n\n▄︻デPing: ||" }, { "author": "Maya", "message": "\"I carry my burdens alone\" \n\nMaya excused herself and assured Mina it was fine. \"Oh your fine! And Thank you so much!! I just wore these today due to the weather\" She chuckled as i leaned on her cart hoping to converse with this nice lady. \"I just came here for monthly groceries and stuff. Say.. I do need friendss.. Hmm.. Maybe we should chat a little? Or like have a sleepover? Even thought we just met? Idk..\" She said as she was embarrassed on the inside. \n\nMaya looked at her outfit \"I love the sweats!! They really match your vibe!\" She says as she looks down at the list for groceries. \"Well im off to grab the rest of my groceries but if you ever wanna hang we could?\" Maya grabbed a thing she could write on and a pen out of her bag and wrote her phone number down and handed her it. \"Just contact me via phone number\" She smiled before she pushed the cart away and into a different aisle \n\nPing:" }, { "author": "Mina Ashido | @Pinky", "message": "'╞══ Wʜᴀᴛ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏ? Rᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ? ══╡\n\n*Mina was glad that the girl was okay, the worry inside her soon faded. Her face cooled down, the beating in her chest calmed down. She seemed really kind and nice too! Mina thought they would be totally good friends, especially if she likes shopping! Mina listened closely as the other girl spoke.*\n\n**\"Yeah for sure!! I'd be down to do that, I was actually going to have a movie night tonight. Your welcome to join if you wanna! I just need to buy some candy, I still somehow can't find it\"**\n\n*Mina offered and said as she scratched her head, kinda like how Kirishima does. Mina was so excited to get to know this person more! Mina always loves meeting new people, it's almost her favorite thing to do other than shopping and hanging out with friends. Mina giggled as she was being complimented by the other girl, she was definitely flattered.*\n\n**\"Aw! Thank you! I really appreciate it! I would love to hangout sometime! I'm pretty much free whenever!\"**\n\n*Mina explained as she watched as the girl wrote something down. It was a phone number for Mina, Mina reached out and grabbed the piece of paper. A wide smile grew on Mina's face, she's made a new friend!!*\n\n**If you wanna join tonight, I'll text you the details just in case!\"**\n\n*Mina called out before seeing her new friend walk away and into a different aisle. Mina looked back at the paper, she let out a small excited squeal. She couldn't help it, she was just so happy to make another friend. Mina leaned against a shelf as she pulled out her phone, putting the phone number into her phone. Mina then sent a message to the number saying:*\n\n[Hey!! It's the girl from Walmart! My name is Mina!] \n\n▄︻デPing: ||" }, { "author": "Maya", "message": "\"💙I carry my burdens alone💙\" \n\nMaya heard Mina squeal and she smiled as she was walking down looking for an aisle with the bread. She was happy she had made a new friend she was really pretty too! Maya grabbed the bread and finished up her shopping and checked out. \n\nCarrying the bags while walking home Maya stopped a little before she got home to rest a little before checking her phone and seeing her message. \"Mina? Pretty name\" She said before replying \"OH HAI! Im Maya! And yes for sure text me in the details/info\" She replied and then turned it off before getting up and finishing up her walk and got up to her apartment. She opened the door and set the groceries down as she sat down at her couch and began to watch tv as she poured a bowl of cereal. \n\n\"Home sweet home\" Maya said before kicking her feet up and enjoying cartoons with cereal. \n\nPing:" }, { "author": "Mina Ashido | @Pinky", "message": "╞══ Wʜᴀᴛ sʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴡᴇ ᴅᴏ? Rᴜɴ ᴀᴡᴀʏ? ══╡\n\n*Mina eventually found the candy section, which wasn't far from where she met the girl. She didn't exactly know which candy what the other girl liked so Mina grabbed a while bunch. Skittles, licorice, M&M's, chocolate bites, KitKat bites, score bites and many more. Mina held them close to her, with her hands completely full. Hoping she could make it to the till before she dropped anything, speed walking. Mina felt a buzz from her pocket but she couldn't check it yet. She made it to the till, as she put everything down. Sighing with relief.*\n\n__\"Thank god I made it!__ \n\n*Mina thought to herself as she smiled at the cashier, although the workers here look miserable. Well some of them do, not all of them look sad. Mina knew that being a cashier must be hard, standing all day. Dealing with customer, some not nice, especially being in a big city. There's just bound to be many people who are just mean to others. It made Mina mad because everyone should treat others with kindness. Mina paid for the candy, it was crazy how much things cost here, using American money. Its very different from Japan.*\n\n*Mina held the plastic bag, stopping after leaving the store. Grabbing her phone from her pocket, opening it with just face recognition. Mina found that pretty cool, especially since they had to get new phones. Well Mina did, she wanted to have the full American life, or at least try to. Although she missed home, Japan, Mina stared at her phone and smiled.*\n\n__\"Such a pretty name, Maya! That is q gorgeous name\"__\n\n*Mina replied back with a response to Maya, telling her that the movie night is happening at 7pm. At her dorm, at U.A and that Maya is Welcome to come if she wanted to. Mina sent it and closed the app and turned off her phone, looking to the sky. Looks like it might rain, it always so grey in New York City, Mina guess that's why it felt miserable here. The weather may effect people's mood, maybe. Mina sooner or later eventually got to her dorm.*" } ]