WHOSE BIAS DO Y'ALL SEEK?

@atunderground​

“Have you been exercising?” Atropos asks as she stretches, her face as stony as ever. A mangled training dummy lay beside her, finished with her daily workout. “Or have you been looking through the—” She curses in an archaic language, brow furrowing as she tries to remember the word. “The clues.”

atropos always reminded coatlicue of someone, though as stern as her disposition remained, he could never place the resemblance. “haven’t thought of dedicating any time to working out, but if nothing comes up, then maybe i will--” he stopped, though maybe a bit to late; foolishly, he had just admitted to atropos that he was yet to find something significant. “how do we know if we’ve found something? i mean, is there some... concrete ‘magic bullet’ we should be going after? i’ve spent hours looking through the books in hecate’s library. so far, nothing seems to directly link to the night of the attacks.”

“I tried, you know. The last successful one, I almost passed out. The one before that—” Emily remembers nothing, nothing but searing pain and a tearing sensation somewhere that worried her. Something tore here, and it wasn’t something small. “I still have to apologize to Hrafn, but I haven’t seen him around much.” She gives him a sad smile and put a hand on his shoulder. “Figured as much; the demon things were a dead giveaway. You’re all welcome to stay, but Alizeh’s not too keen on being in the Underground.”

“i figured she wouldn’t like it here. i give her points for staying consistent on that position, though.” 

then, for the first time in a while, coatlicue went quiet. it didn’t look as if he was thinking -- hell, he wasn’t even considering things. the bitterness in his mouth felt like resentment, resentment he forced himself to swallow back down because hecate was alive. alive, that was all that mattered, or at least, what was supposed to matter. he closed his eyes for a moment, at the weight of her hand on his shoulder. “and the cryptic message? that... apparition at willow vaughn’s party -- what was that?” 

Remembering that one time that Yousef showed him Seros fanfiction, he made a face and moved on, trying to forcefully purge that from his mind. God-chasers and their fantasies. Even more unnerving that the dark beasts that wanted a piece of them or something. “Hey, you’re the one with better followers in the Underground—that’s gotta have some charm to it,” he laughed along, rolling his eyes. “Trust me, the Armani makes up for the fact that I have none.”

.

“now be honest with me tiago since i know you will be anyways.” she said plopping herself down next to him. “do you think we could all use a break from this studying, cause let’s be honest it sucks, and do something more fun. i mean i’m sure we can find something to drink here, i know you know where it is hidden. if not do you think a weird circus routine would cheer everyone up?”

@atunderground​

“To be fair, those shorts did have a few of those things looking his way. The maneuver of rip-off shirt to the tearaway pants really should be considered more when fighting monsters.” Percy replied, a growing smirk on his face. After getting away from it all, he wishes he could have taken a video of Yousef—but alas, fate was cruel to them all. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell him; I’ll let you keep up the cool facade you have going on. Adds to your… charm.”

“don’t kiss his ass -- literally or figuratively. he’s got his followers to do that; otherwise it’ll get to his head,” tiago shook his head, but his words lacked the energy to strengthen his argument. maybe he’d let percy exploit the gag in his face (as much as it annoyed him) while he recovered, but once he was back to his usual steadiness, that’d be it. “haha--” he laughed, sarcastically-- “that’s rich. the only thing i’ll take from that is that you think i’ve got charm. coming from the god who’s always in an armani suit, that’s a fist-class compliment.” 

“This is as civil as you’ll get, asshole.” Her face was split in a smile, punching his shoulder lightly. It felt good to see another god that knew the Underground, making her feel a little less alone. “Oh, just here. With my sanctum and my—followers? Disciples? God, I don’t know what to call them. Poor fucks just wandered in here with me, lucky I didn’t lose them to the Underground outside.”

               Hisako,    who had been secretly napping,   lifts her head up in mild alarm when Tiago’s voice suddenly cuts through the eerie silence.   She grunts a few times,   blindly reaching for the book she was using as a pillow to give Tiago some useless information so that he’ll go back to being quiet.   In the process,   however,   Hisako ends up knocking over the tower of books next to her.    They fall in a flurry of flying pages,   waking her even more.

         “Ah,    fuck,”    she sighs.    Instead of leaning down to pick them up,   however,    Hisako half-heartedly kicks the pile.   A small notebook goes flying towards Tiagos feet,    landing open and face-up.    “This is boring as shit.   What the hell are we even looking for?” 

instinctively, he reached over, crutching down to pick up some of the pages and books. as he did so, he let out a sigh. tiago didn’t blame hisako for sleeping (fuck, he would’ve probably done that himself if he wasn’t this concerned with making himself feel somewhat useful). 

    “i didn’t want to be the one to say it. it’s the biggest fucking pain in the ass, ‘m not sayin’ it isn’t, i just... i wanted to at least try find something useful if we ever get cornered like that again. we’re not gonna get a magic bullet for every run-in, y’know?” 

though it had not been that long, the monotony of the search seemed to stretch out the time spent browsing through dusty, forlorn tomes. a yawn escaped the god’s mouth, followed by a short sigh. it also did not help that he had yet to come across a single significant finding. 

   “how’s it going? have you found anything in any of the books that might be of help?” 

@atunderground​

“My hero. Thanks for the whole,” he waves his hand around, trying to show genuine gratitude, and failing miserably. “Saving me thing. You alright there, Tiago? Falling down a hole couldn’t have been easy.”

@atunderground​

“I never thought I’d miss your sorry face, Tiago, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. My part of the Underground hasn’t been the same without you.”

@atunderground​

“You talk to the public much, Tiago?” They’re walking around the city, and Percy lets the people gawk and stare, just as long as they keep their distance. “Lot of them think I’m an arrogant prick, ‘cept for my followers. Though, some of them really exhaust me. Mosh pit crew any better?”

“as much as i could manage, but i don’t feel there’s much i can say. the media’s still trying to hear about what the fuck went down from the mouths of yousef, hisako and alizeh, the rest’s old news or pure noise. you?” coatlicue shrugged, turning to look at eros with slightly-furrowed brows. “maybe it’s ‘cause your followers are a bunch of arrogant pricks themselves.” the words blended into laughter, though it was evident that the tease had been meant for tiago to make himself laugh. “i can’t complain, i enjoy the company of the die-hard crowd; plus, they’re not the kind to bother me like that. but it makes sense, i mean, yours and mine are two different followings, aren’t they?” 

@atunderground​

Things concerning death have never sat well with Alizeh. Death itself could be dealt with, as long as it was on her own terms, but being confronted with it made her stomach turn (likely thanks to old memories from a life once lived, the feeling of her own decay consuming her). Yet, she does her best to play nice with Santiago; reminds herself that they’re not that different, both beings of creation and destruction.  ‘  Keeping yourself busy ?   ’   she asks with a smile. There’s an assumption that because she enjoys movement, others must as well.

for as long as he had known inanna, coatlicue had never been able to construe the nature of their relation to each other. he respected her, naturally, as did her own following; he marveled at her miracles like the devoted mortals did, but was always reminded of the dissonance between them. the feeling is swallowed down, glimpses of that unfortunate night going down along with it. instead, out comes a plain yet noticeably polite smile. 

@atunderground​

“So, what do we even do for fun around here? Seems likes parties are off the table. Although, I was never much of a party girl myself. Twister? Jenga? A slip and slide? Betcha we could get some of our cooler followers to deliver something pretty sweet.” 

“you know, as much as that question’s been on our minds, i can’t remember the last time anyone actually dared ask.” strange how even gods fell prone to boredom and restlessness. “as of late, sulking has been a pretty popular one. before that, it was uno and thumb wars.” 

Does the fact that his bleeding gunshot wound is wrapped in a Dior scarf help?

“It does. A little,” Yousef admits at length, reluctant. “It makes me look good, and it’s funny that I’m bleeding all over something that cost one of these assholes a few hundred bucks.” So yeah, it cheers him up somewhat. Helps keep his mind off the fact that he’s a god and he’s leaking blood like some kind of fucking mortal.

Tiago’s right, of course. The shooter’s identity has to be unknown. The second it’s known, Set’s fans are going to swarm them and kill them, if at all possible. Mob justice at its most obsessive.

Yousef lets out a long, dramatic sigh. He could walk, though he’d be limping on four legs, and he doesn’t particularly want to risk turning back the into proper humanoid shape right now. Instead, he turns a particularly damp-eyed stare on Tiago, puppy eyes at their worst. “I’m fed up and in pain and want to go back to the tower. Carry me.”

while he would usually be rolling his eyes of letting out short-lived huffs over set’s theatricality, to hear such in-character speech endure even as the god lay bleeding hit like a good sign. it indicated yousef’s wound was treatable, and that the god was not slipping away whatsoever. as small of a detail it were, it was a little victory. 

   “heaven forbid you lose your sense of fashion, even if you were just shot, dude,” tiago smiled, though more to himself. “you got fucking lucky -- they could’ve handed you a handful of wrinkled napkins. whose scarf is it anyway?”

coatlicue wished the rest of the pantheon could be left alone, carried away from the paparazzi and the morbid party attendees. even if that meant they’d have no choice but to leave the party to meet the fates’ concern, they could go lick their wounds in the goddamned peace and quiet of their own abode. even if he hadn’t been shot himself, tiago couldn’t stand to stick around if he were being honest. 

Willow feels her phone ring—her publicist, most probably, and she has to suppress a groan. It’s almost as if the sharks smelled blood too quick for her to swim away, and she’s going to have to beat them back with a stick or drown. “It’s not my fault, but saying otherwise would make a good headline. I’ll call you for a character witness if they ask.” She could see it now, in bold letters, and the couple million she would have to dole out for a cease and desist, or legal teams that were going to drag her to court and make her testify or something.

“Yeah, but a couple A-listers cancelled on me last minute, so I guess we’ll never really know.” She crosses her arms, and then puts her fingers to her temple, sensing a migraine coming on. Or the adrenaline coming down. “I’m just lucky no one normal was hurt. No offense, but celebs are less unhurt than you gods.”

“pss, i’m sure they’d be thrilled to hear from me. critics love me, didn’t you know?” he mocked, his words more deadpan than actually hurt. “i’ll put my two cents forward through an anonymous contribution. that’ll probably help your case more,” the god gestured vaguely, every now and then scanning the room, still restless after the attack. 

He takes the pack and fiddles with the cigarette, a snap of his fingers and the cigarette is lit. Sometimes, he thinks about how people would have killed for this, but all he could have seen is how at least he didn’t have to bring a lighter to smoke. Novel.

It’s a puff, then a cough and a hack. Percy hadn’t thought about how it tasted—like burning paper and bad decisions. The surprise let him drop the cigarette, and then immediately stamp it out on the immaculate greens of Willow’s house. He felt bad, almost, that the party had gone this way, but at least they weren’t carting out any bodies. Small victories.

“Nah,” he replies, taking another stick, trying to play off the coughing fit he’d just had. Percy shrugs, and fits the thing in between his fingers. “But who cares? Two of us got shot, you know. More pressing concerns than my nerves.”

He sighs and lifts the cigarette, pointing it in Tiago’s direction. “Could you light a guy up? I think cigarettes don’t like me.”

the brunet’s demeanor remained unfazed, simply out of politeness; there’d nonetheless been an urge to chuckle, even if only quickly and quietly. still, there was the faintest trace of a smile. percy didn’t need to know he had dealt with his first ever inhale the first way. the god simply let his eyes follow the pathetic cigarette as it fell like icarus. 

   “fine, if you say so,” coatlicue let out, as if unbothered. the words sounded nonchalant, though displeased at first. “fuck, what’ll the fates think about all this? pfft, lachesis, especially. if she ever thought of us as the peanut gallery in any way, i wonder what she’ll have to say about this... mess.” 

Everything felt too… grim now. Granted, they’d barely survived a hit out on them, but Percy couldn’t do grim. Sad? Sure. Brooding? Definitely. But the miasma of grim despair surrounding them was almost too much, suffocating what was left of his good spirits. So when Tiago asked him to join for a smoke, Percy took it in a heartbeat. They weren’t looking too great, and he wasn’t out to destroy his liver tonight. Not yet at least.

“If I get to bum a smoke off you, sure.” He doesn’t smoke. Not really. But he could be dead in a week, so what better way to start? Cut your losses and all that. Percy hovered, letting his wings out just to get some of the jittery energy done and over with.

“But isn’t getting some air and smoking sort of,” he waved his hand, trying to get the word, “Redundant? You’re sort of getting less air in your lungs.”

if anyone were to take a glance at them, no context considered, it could’ve convincingly looked as though they’d been dragged to hell and back. while it some form of twisted consolation, tiago was relieved to see he wasn’t the only one looking indirectly grazed.

   “take ‘s many as you want, keep the pack for all i care,” tiago let out, lighting the end of the cigarette a bright shade of orange with the ease of a finger click. his words had sounded overtly blunt and exhausted, but he still handed percy the pack with gentleness. 

  “pffft. smartass” he replied, evidently lightheartedly and letting his mouth curve into a short-lived grin. “any kind of air is better than the one inside. being there, doing nothing - it feels like time goes by slower. and it makes the air feel stuffy as fuck, it gets like a goddamned temazcal in there. maybe’s just me.”