THIEF LORD.

“Mmm…so many choices, so little time. My poor, indecisive self is at a loss. What is a girl to do?” Another dainty sigh, followed by laughter that wells from her throat like a fountain, rhythmic and riveting to the ear. “I’ll tell you what, Hermes, my love. I’ll come to you. Because I adore you so.” And Aphrodite rarely came to anyone as she prefers having others flock around her, admired and idolized.

“Give me three days and we will dance for nights on end, you and I.” 

     ❛ you’re an ANGEL, ‘dite. ❜ She’s much more that that, in truth. It’s so rare these days for the pair of them to have an opportunity like this, to spend days and nights in one another’s company. The messenger god’s smile is warm and genuine, a rare expression from a liar. 

       her eyes narrow. a grimace of disgust is apparent, her countenance mushes together together for one moment. hera quickly blinks it back, throwing it behind her eyes ( SHIELDING every last glower ); he won’t drag the reaction he so wants from her. the fingers buried in her silk clothes slowly unfold, a breath releasing from her nostrils. hera’s gaze traces the outline of his body, all the way to the clutched fist. her jaw loosens, another mockery pushing at her lips.

                                      still such little control over his emotions.                          even as he shakes under the guise of of CONFIDENCE. 

          ❛a servant only knows what to heed. yours is no duty, yours is a mindless                  repeat of the same task.

                       careful,paragyiós. even you must know where you place.❜      her golden bracelet dangles from the tips of her fingers. hera parts her lips to say something, then they ease back into a saccharine smile, the words disappearing. 

He’s not so foolish as to tell her to go fuck herself, though the words do swim up to the edge of his tongue. That’s what she wants, her artificially serene gaze so easy to read in this circumstance. What she wants is his childish anger, as though he’s not aware that this is an argument fought in passivity. 

     Gods, does he hate her. At least he knows the feeling is mutual. 

      He is still a LIAR, an actor, and he knows when to play a part. A cold smile plays at his lips, fist unclenching and muscles relaxing. She cannot hurt him ( he is still a liar ).

     ❛ of course i do, HIGHNESS. i’m a god, aren’t i? messenger, psychopomp; i’ve many roles to fill, and many duties to mind. sometimes i may not know where i’m meant to belong, but i do know this:

      whatever my place is, it’s not to LICK YOUR BOOTS. ❜

❛the world is at my feet, dear messenger of gods,

                              i’ll humor you. what good is a queen who cannot REIGN from her throne?❜ this CHILD, arrogant thief has thrown himself past his limit; acted as if he is the KING-GOD. a fury burrows in her stomach,  her lungs catching fire, and yet all she does is frown and tilt her crown downwards, right. she’ll exact his punishment when the time is correct. how dare he look down on the QUEEN OF GODS. condescending, egotistic, childish; how DARE he claim to know her emotions?  he is playing with fire. doesn’t a bastard know it’s place?

          ❛amuse yourself, hermes,❜she hopes his name sounds as bitter out as in her mouth. 

                                                           ❛you know nothing of duty.❜

Her voice carries power, the very atmosphere changing to match the anger of a GODDESS. But he grins in the face of her rage, dancing just out of its range for he knows that she cannot hurt him, will not hurt him ( he has run before and he can do it again, if the halls of olympus are no safe haven he can run and run until he reaches earth ). 

      The acid in her tone does not sting; his own NAME cannot be taken as a weapon again him. He is the god of language, of words, and even in the mouth of a queen they refuse to betray their ruler. He smiles. 

      But a clenched fist still shakes.

     ❛ i know how to perform mine and to be happy both at once, your majesty. i may have abandoned olympus, but i still deliver the messages of the gods, and i still guide mortals souls to the realm of hades. 

      don’t tell me that i know nothing of duty. ❜

“New York is too much for me these days, though I’d gladly drop down if it means getting to dance with you, my love. I prefer the beaches of Greece–it’s ripe with handsome tourists around this time of year. Nice eye candy who all gleefully do my bidding while I sunbathe. Though…” She tapped her chin, giving a delicate sigh.

 “We should party together soon, however. Gorge ourselves on dates and wine that goes down as smooth as honey.” 

     ❛ i haven’t been to GREECE in a good long time — maybe i ought to take a break from city life for a few weeks with you, huh? a vacation sounds nice. 

ermeneus.

‘ excuse me ! do you know the way toward the nº 9 groove ? ‘

        a spark of interest ignites deep within her, her mien still a facade of beautiful marble.

                                 like? 

             her mind flashes back to her childhood for a moment, in the garden of gaea, rhea and her siblings. before Cronus had swallowed them WHOLE, devoured them for their power, their life essence. she never knew him before power consumed his mind; mother was always her favourite. there were times of warmth and kind laughter. hera loved her siblings. hated how rhea loved Poseidon’s hair most. the ebb of the warm rays hitting her back as she made crowns from daisies with demeter. hestia’s fiery STRENGTH and radiance. now it was all too different, each and everyone with some sort of grudge, a lingering bitterness. innocence no more.  

                            ❛duty supersedes something as mundane as preference .❜

     Her answer does not surprise him ( who could remain amicable towards such a cruel collection of gods for so long? ), though he’s a bit surprised to hear such a candid admission of dislike for those she shares the mountain with. A sigh slips from his throat, and he realizes that what he feels in this moment is not anger, but PITY.

      The queen of gods does not want anyone’s pity, and yet she’s earned his.

     ❛ so you only stay here out of DUTY? i have duties of my own as well, and i perform them just as well from an apartment in manhattan as i did from the halls of olympus. 

                    is this gilded palace your PRISON, majesty?                                      don’t you ever get sick of being so trapped ?? ❜

❛be whatever you wish to be.❜

                    she casts him a pitying glance for a millisecond. a GOD that’s lived for centuries still such a child looking for petty entertainment to relieve him of his boredom ( loneliness ). 

          ❛i don’t consider you anything but my husband’s infidelity.❜ hera chides, emotionless; not a lie, she would not care to lie to the messenger god, anyways. a waste of her efforts. he is a god that is nevermore present, how could she feel anything for a god she’s only caught side glances of ?

     ❛ i can’t help that. ❜

     His father’s mistakes are not his fault, yet he knows the queen of gods finds him to blame for his own EXISTENCE. Her distaste doesn’t bother him ( so he tells himself, as though his inward fears of judgement are not inspired wholly by her piercing gaze ); he doesn’t come to Olympus much these days anyway.

     This is only a visit. His presence here is only temporary.

1) asshole

   Your existence is good enough a reason.

ermeneus replied to your post

ready to ruin my day more like

   “Ya fukin’ know it.”

❛DO NOT let your lax-speech with the mortals affect how you speak to me. 

                  such questions are beyond your scope,❜ she states, EARTHLY lashes brush against her underlid, her painted lips in peacock part as a breath is let in. he speaks to her as if are insanely intimate; even the YOUNGEST OF GODS must know their place before her.

                   ❛love is only ephemeral, you’re a fool for wishing it with mortals.❜

     ❛ i’m happy to be the JESTER of this court, if that’s what you consider me. ❜

     He has never truly been one of their own; an oddity among the twelve Olympians. The way in which he speaks to a QUEEN ( casual, relaxed, as one would converse with a friend rather than a ruler ) tells of his detachment from the group.

    “I’ve met people like that too! Pretty touchy, huh? But no way–Zoro’s not like that! He’s got a good reason for everything he does. So long as no one bugs Zoro, you’re safe. And what kinda question is that? Everyone knows a good pirate crew needs a good swordsman. That’s why he’s hanging out with me.”