of deception

Alecto hadn’t figured she’d run into anyone who might recall her name. She wondered if Dolus knew her sibling, too. Carrion had been a name she’d given herself after making peace with her past being long gone, so at the very least, if they asked that, then she’d have something to back up the fact that she wasn’t from Aegea, even if that was very much a boldfaced lie. 

They watched Dolus’s expression as it worked against the misinformation they gave him. There was a hint of something else there, doubt, maybe. She’d whittle it away over time. There was no point in acting out now, not when she was fresh on this chaos-damned ship. 

“Maybe? I’m not too sure. I don’t really remember much before Tartarus, if anything at all.” Alecto offered a smile, though there was hesitance – implied uncertainty, maybe Dolus would pick up on it, maybe he wouldn’t. “It’s not a big deal. I’m new here, it makes sense that you’d want to know more.” It seemed their tablet was forgotten, and now Alecto was pressed into the box of newcomer – at least they achieved something out of this conversation. “It’s different. Not on water. Lived underground, better alcohol,” Alecto shrugged, “but if you’ve visited, I’m sure you knew those things.” 

---

“Mm, yeah, I could’ve guessed most of that,” Dolus agreed, wry amusement in his expression. Not on water and underground were just about givens. Perhaps an indication that Alecto didn’t want to talk about her past. Of course, that only served to make him more interested. Bad memories, perhaps? It wouldn’t be surprising, given that clip he’d seen of her fight with her employer.

“Better alcohol, though? Not sure about that one, love. Stronger, maybe, but taste matters too.” He wrinkled his nose. “As I recall, last time I was in Tartarus, all the drinks tasted like gasoline. Oh, but don’t worry. Your taste will improve in no time, I’m sure. We’ll just have to indoctrinate you.”

He winked at Alecto. “So, like, what are you going to be doing here? What division were you hired to?” He tilted his head as he scrutinized her. He didn’t think that Khton had many programmers, though he supposed he didn’t know much about their business model. “What did you do back in Tartarus?”

He doesn’t put too much stock in his own intuition. If his were truly sharp, he would have avoided the mess of legal condemnation and Scalpel altogether. And no, he was no genius. Unlike the sharp brains aboard Pontius, Hercules was average at best. Yet he was not dumb when it came to Dolus. He could see the internal war, waged between who Dolus was and who he wanted to be. With an emphatic smile, he continues to ply sauce over the well-grilled fish. It’s a plight he knows all too well, and he simply curbs the urge to say a thing about it.

If Dolus wanted to be the person he dreamed of, each time he stares out at the sea’s horizon? Well, Hercules would make certain it happened.

“Maybe you’re not the only genius in the family. Ever think of that?” He says in jest, though the reality is far less impressive. He remembers, simply because it’s important. And frankly, little else occupied his thoughts in the cells deep within Arcadia’s borders. “Fuck off - I got plenty done. Morning and afternoon patrol at the decks, security brief with Alecto… I even helped one of the guests retrieve their water wings at one of the pools.” He has to laugh, thinking back on the image. Hercules retrieves a fork, and hands it back to Dolus.

“Did you put all the one’s and zeroes at the end of Pontius’ password, then?”

---

Dolus snorted and rolled his eyes. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever considered that,” he replied drily. Still, he stared at Hercules. He couldn’t explain why or how his older brother had remembered something so inconsequential, from so many years ago. Hercules was an inconvenience in the grand scheme of things, but Dolus couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed him.

“Something like that. Getting security ready for the Summit has been a pain, I’ve been working overtime. Having everyone here makes life interesting, though.” He accepted the plate and the fork and dug in without waiting for Hercules. As soon as the fish hit his tongue, he squeezed his eyes shut. He was transported back to home, dancing through little kitchen hand in hand with one of their dads while the other cooked and sang along, their mom shaking her head at all of them. It tasted exactly like their parents’ recipe. He didn’t mention it. But he did concede, “Okay, you might be a food genius.”

Then, he pointed his fork in Hercules’s direction. “Hey, what do you think of Alecto? Do they seem, I don’t know, familiar to you?” He still hadn’t shook the feeling that he knew Alecto, that perhaps they were from the Archipelago after all — though he knew it was an absurd long shot, considering that they’d grown up in Tartarus.

@dolusmendacius​ | Week 1 of the Summit on the 3rd deck’s kitchens

“Great. You’re here. I’m almost done.” Hercules notes, in mild surprise. It’s not as if his little sibling kept time well, when he was busy tinkering away in that super-brain workspace of his. Of course, it does him a world of pride. Dolus may be many things (fast-talking, sarcastic, and horridly impatient) but he’s made this life for himself. Could Hercules say the same? Perhaps it is the way of the eldest and the youngest; the first fails, the second thrives. And there is peace in that, for Hercules. Better that Dolus thrive, than languish in mistakes like he did. He tightens his smile into a careful, fine line. Three years later, and so much of that want that near bursts from his chest, is painstakingly pinned down a size. Three years is nothing, to half a life apart.

“I caught it this morning.” He explains, carefully removing the fish from the grill. It’s wrapped in careful tin, and seasoned with olive oil and vegetables. A simple Mendacius family recipe, that was commonplace on their dinner table. “Do you still like it with a bit of the sauce? I wasn’t sure.” Never the less, he carries the sauce pan with him.

---

On Pontius, Dolus had crafted a mask. The mask of an immature person who didn’t have a care in the world. A person who had never had to worry about his status, about the stability of his position or the security of his future. He took cues from the people around him — Hermes, Poseidon, even Artemis. He took pains to be laidback, funny, talkative, earnest...and just annoying enough that nobody would ever question whether it was genuine.

The presence of Hercules, his brother, his anchor, tugged at the mask. He threatened to rip it apart, just by being there. And there was nothing that Dolus could do about it, because he wasn’t prepared to push away any more family. Instead, he met Hercules in the kitchen for dinner.

The smell of home, grilled fish and olive oil, made his eyes burn. How ridiculous was that? That Hercules could make this marvel of technology smell like home. He shut the kitchen doors behind him and resisted the urge to lean back against them. “Yeah.” His voice came out hoarse. He cleared his throat. When he spoke again, it was back to flippant. “Yeah, I do. How do you even remember that shit?”

He strode over to the table and took a seat, resting an elbow on the shiny metallic tabletop that was absolutely nothing like home. “Did you like, do any work today, or were you just fishing?”

Alecto’s gaze clipped down to the way Dolus tapped against their tablet. Words that she can’t see flashed across the screen, or possibly diagrams. She wondered what it would take to get her hands on it, or if she’d be met with precautions – probably, a recording of her face, too, flashing across the screen. It was a wonder that Aphrodite’s hadn’t called her out in this manner.

You said you’re from Tartarus, but.

Alecto remains stone faced as Dolus works against a memory that is clearly rising. Alecto raised a brow. “I’m not sure how common my name is, but,” Alecto shrugged, “maybe there’s somebody out there. I was born to the streets. It’s pretty common there.” Make them feel like they’ve got a first person view into Tartarus, Alecto thought, maybe they’d be more interested in that than pondering the existence of somebody he thought he knew.

For a brief moment, the fear of losing this to Dolus’s memory crests, and she considers throwing Dolus into the wall, to crushing his face against the wall, to force the memory out of them and stomp it out with her heel. But she can’t. Not here, not when there is so much to lose. “We weren’t really allowed to leave Tartarus, so I don’t think so. It’d be interesting to meet somebody with the same name as me, though. It’s never happened before.” 

---

Dolus’s lips twisted into a doubtful expression. He hadn’t even considered it, but they were right: Alecto wasn’t a very common name. “Born to the streets” was a weird thing to say, too. But he supposed Tartarus did have that whole war thing, way back when. It made sense that there were a lot of orphans around.

Still — she must have had parents at some point. And the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that Alecto was an Aegean name. Weird coincidence, he chalked it up to, but he’d never been satisfied with weird coincidences. Perhaps he could do some probing around into this Alecto’s past later? For the moment, he forced a smile.

“If you say so. But I have some connections to the locals, if you ever want to look into it. Maybe your parents were from here, if they named you Alecto.” He lifted a shoulder. “Sorry to probe. People tell me I’ve got a habit of doing that. An inquisitive mind! Speaking of, what do you think of Pontius? Is it very different from Tartarus? I’ve visited, but living there must be different.”

where — ceto, lab 69 when — first week of kalavria with — @dolusmendacius​

There’s a soft sound as the door slides open, a sound that Scylla has come to connect with reprieve. For all the years she and her team have spent working in the silent shadows, it is quite a change of pace to work on a ship the size of a city. Unbecoming, really, though she won’t admit to that kind of simple weakness. But the lab is quiet and the lab is theirs and she expects it to be empty upon arrival — but of course, it is not.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone is sharp as she takes in Dolus Mendacius, eyes squinting a little at his presence. What a nuisance this person was proving to be, a fly in her ear, a mouse in the wall, a bird making a cacophony when she has not properly awoken. “Actually, never mind: do tell me what you’ve touched.” Meddlesome fingers: he reminds her a bit of a child that sticks his fingers in a tub of butter, licking them off before dipping in again. No doubt there’s a brilliant mind hiding behind all of it. “And what you thought of it.” In that regard, Pontius reminds her of GemTech: there’s clever people everywhere. Even if some are rather fucking grating. “Also, do you have any family residing on this ship? I met someone with the same surname as yours. Any relation or mere coincidence?”

---

Dolus hit close and whirled around from the lab’s main computer when Scylla entered, giving her a perfectly innocent smile as if she’d walked in on them in one of Pontius’s pools rather than sneaking into her lab. They waved at her, wiggling their fingers. “Evening, Scylla.”

They glanced back towards the computer, then at her. “What, me? Oh, I was just checking the lab’s security features.” Not technically a lie, though not nearly the full truth either. They’d managed to get into a folder full of lab notes, though they hadn’t read anything interesting before she arrived. “Yeah, I have this weird thing, it’s called a job...? It means I have to go around and do stuff like that. Crazy, right?”

During the Kalavrian Summit, there were plenty of people crowding Pontius, hoping to get a glimpse of the future. Most of them were expected faces. Bright young scientific minds, celebrities excited over anti-aging projects, competitors scoping out the new innovations. Dolus welcomed all of them — or at the least, he pretended to. But they swiftly noticed some unexpected faces, as well. Prince among them, Theseus.

They’d last seen Theseus years ago, when they were a pimply-faced teen desperate to make some money. He’d been incredible, cunning and quick-talking, the perfect conman. Dolus, still trying to perfect that particular craft, had adored him. But what in Chaos’s name was he doing browsing the exhibits on the Kalavria Deck? Perhaps hoping to scam some poor investors?

Dolus immediately decided to get to the bottom of it. He made his way across the room to wrap an arm around Theseus’s shoulders, greeting him like an old friend, like he wasn’t at all shocked to see him there. “Theseus! So nice to finally see you again. How are you enjoying the ship, darling?” As they looked at him, though, their expression betrayed the underlying message: why the hell are you here?

Dolus carefully cultivated his relationships with the Rhea family. He had learned early on in his profession that it was important to have connections to powerful people, that the people you knew was about as important as the work you did. Maybe Apollo Rhea wasn’t likely to serve as a professional connection anytime soon, but he was still a Rhea. Besides, he was fascinating.

When he spotted Apollo in the crowd at the Basileus stage, he was quick to stride up to him and wrap an arm around his shoulders, greeting him as an old friend. “Apollo!” he cried, scarcely able to be heard over the music and cheers as the acrobats on stage flung themselves through hoops of fire. “When I saw your sister here, I hoped you’d be around too, but I wasn’t sure.”

He let his hand drop back to his side. “Let me buy you a drink,” he offered, “and tell me what you’ve thought of the Summit! It’s so nice to have you all come here, instead of the other way around. Maybe we can convince you to make the trip more often.”

It was three in the morning, so Dolus didn’t expect anyone to be awake as they slipped out of their room and headed down to their office. They didn’t even have to use their office for this, really, but they prided themself on having their own office. Besides, they couldn’t focus half as well in their room.

When the attempts began, they were fueled by an excited fervor. They were so close to a breakthrough, they knew it. If they could just get a glimpse of the Rheseq files, they were sure that they would be able to build off of Cronus’s scientists’ attempts. And what was the harm? It wasn’t like anyone else was using the research as far as they could tell. It was just trapped there, behind a layer of security.

ACCESS DENIED.

A layer of security that had been strengthened considerably since his last attempt to hack it.

ACCESS DENIED.

ACCESS DENIED.

Just as they were ready to give up, they heard footsteps down the hall and saw Pontius’s motion-controlled lights flick on. They resisted the temptation to slam their laptop shut like a teenager caught watching porn, instead shutting it slowly and spinning in their chair to face the door. They stood when they were sure Hermes had noticed them, walking toward the door. “Hermes, baby! Did you go out clubbing without me?”

They drop their hand, arms awkwardly hanging at their sides. They felt like a rag doll. The idea of being confronted by new faces hadn’t escaped her, but it felt suffocating now, being under the watchful eyes of those who would want to know more, who’d want to understand why she left Tartarus. So far, people seemed to be keeping their distance. But would that be the same for this person who stood in front of her now? 

“From Tartarus, yeah.” Alecto managed a smile, though there was no heart in it. She hadn’t been sleeping well. She had very little of what Hypnos had brought to Olympe for herself and Than, and to make it last, she had to skip out on taking it every night, which meant tossing and turning, and nearly sleepless nights. She’s glad that he does’t seem to ask about the circumstances in which she had joined. Maybe he had his nose pressed too far against the tablet in his hand. 

“Dolus? Right, okay.” So she had been right. Slightly satisfied with herself, she cleared her throat. “Alecto Carrion.” Her name felt weighted, it felt stuck. “Guess that wasn’t… broadcasted or whatever.” 

---

Dolus’s eyebrows leapt upward at the introduction. He had known an Alecto once, hadn’t he? A couple years younger than him, but still the closest child in age to him on their little island. He had a hazy memory of being six when they were four, showing off his pro-wrestling moves by shoving them into a sharp rock. There’d been so much blood he’d passed out. But their face — was it the same? He remembered long dark hair, fair skin tanned by the sun, but the rest felt lost to time. (Invention idea: a device that can extract and project memories. Via MRI? He jotted this down on his tablet.)

“Alecto,” he echoed. “You said you’re from Tartarus, but —” But Alecto’s family had moved away when he was seven. Everyone had been moving away; the flooding had made the island inhospitable, and it had been getting increasingly harder to find fish in the rapidly-changing ocean. Perhaps they could have ended up in Tartarus.

with: @dolusmendacius when: february, 2130 (before the summit)  where: pontius (kalavria)

Alecto was still trying to find familiarity in her new living quarters. Be it her actual room, or the ship as a whole. Despite having been born among these waters, there was nothing that Alecto could recall. Would she want to? Would that make this easier? Maybe in time, she would look towards the water and see where she and her sibling ran, or where her father cast his line from a boat that was more tin than propeller. Regardless, what didn’t do Alecto any favors was dwelling on such things. She’d managed to board Pontius under the guise of needing a new home, and now it was time to actually work. 

Whether that was Poseidon’s work assigned, or whether it meant digging into the crevices of what could cause Pontius to split into two, Alecto hadn’t quite decided. 

Still, it was easier to slip into the skin of an awkward newcomer than it was to create something authoritative out of herself. How would that fly with those around her? 

Alecto doesn’t drop their gaze quickly enough as somebody – she thinks their name is Dolus ( had that been right? introductions had been quick ), rounds the corner. They nearly run into him, but a hand meant to steady snaps out and presses against shoulder. 

“Sorry. The hallways keep coming up on me.” 

---

Dolus walked down the halls of Pontius with earbuds blasting pop music and his eyes fixed firmly on the tablet in his hand. He was on his way to his office, working on an updated security program for Tala, since Hermes had found a hole in the last one. And he wasn’t even making an effort to watch where he was going, so it was no surprise when he just about collided with someone. It was an annoyance, though. Eight years into his employment on Pontius, most people knew to get out of the way when Dolus was walking down the hall.

“Hey!” He looked at the hand on his shoulder first, then to the person it was connected to. He blinked. Unfamiliar, and yet...not? He could have sworn he knew them from somewhere, but it wasn’t Pontius. He squinted back at them, just for a second, before their expression split into a grin.

“Oh, it’s not a problem, darling. Still getting your sea legs?” He winked, despite the fact that it was very clearly him who had caused the collision. “You’re the newest recruit, right? From...Tartarus?” He remembered now, the videos from Heteraidia of that big argument right in the middle of Zeus’s birthday party. That wasn’t where he recognized her from, either, though. “I’m Dolus. You?”