Men are so quick to blame the gods: they say that we devise their misery. But they themselves- in their depravity- design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns.
“Heads, we throw this guy out to fend for himself.” Damon didn’t waste all that much time listening to the growing sense of fear that fell in broken wails as the water lashed it’s way beneath the doorway, “Tails, —– we throw this guy out to fend for himself.” The coin in his hand flicked high in the air with a notable clink against his thumbnail, the vampire quick to catch it, though he never opened the closed palm of his hand, “What’re you calling it?”
"You seem to give me no choice for options,” Erik replied softly, frowning. The dark figure in front of him terrified him, though it had nothing to deal with the void-like pools of his eyes or his shadow-colored clothes. No. Erik had dealt with many men and women who personified jaded. It was the nonchalant way he was so willing to shun someone in need. Erik didn’t trust people like that.
Obviously the man he spoke about was a nuisance, but nevertheless, he wasn’t a pest. Erik was no supernatural, but he could smell the sleeping man from his chair. He reeked of booze and poverty. It was a smell he was familiar to, reminding him of times of serving in soup kitchens and squatting in homes made of rotting wood. “It may be none of my business, but can you think of a time you needed shelter and was forced to leave? I’m sure it’s not a good feeling, and if it’s that much of a bother to you, there should be storage closets that he can be moved to.”
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White flakes dusted the hair and shoulders of the denizens, and Erik smiled. Yule snow, so pure and light, wistfully floated through the concrete buildings on soft winds, and the bitterness nipped at his nose. It reminded him of his motherland, and though there were many miles between California and Sweden, he didn’t feel the tinged pull of wanting to be there.
He was lost in thought, enthralled by the snow, that he didn’t notice the person until he bumped into them, and he gripped at their arm to cause them (and, okay, himself) from falling. “Oh. I’m so sorry. I guess it suffices to say I need to be more careful, huh?”
That’s [Erik Henke//Apollo] not [Garrett Hedlund]. He's [31//unknown] years old and a [god]. He may be +gentle, +altruistic, & +diplomatic but he's also -pacifistic, -meek & -mysterious.
Ready to meet quite the cinnamon roll?
First, let’s talk about Apollo...
Apollo is old as fuck. We are talking super, super old. Son of Zeus and Leto and twin to the chaste Artemis, he is considered the most pure and “Greek” of the Gods. He is associated with the light of the sun, music, poetry/arts, healing, and protecting the young. He is also known to drive the chariot of the sun and has a golden bow, which he never misses.
He is the leader of the muses, which art depicting him with a lyre is abundant (considering he invented the instrument). He also taught worthy mortals the art of archery, medicine, and agricultural health. He is also the warder of diseases and plagues and patron of herdsmen.
However, Apollo is also known to be a bringer of misfortune and ill-health. Though, his wrath is very few and far between, as he is usually commits to being a sign of protection and health.
Many, many years ago, Apollo was ripped from his perch and thrown into darkness. This concept was terrifying, and he felt as if he was floating lucidly into the heavens. That was until he awoke to a bright light, and thus...
Erik was the rebirth...
Erik Caspar Henke was the only child born in Stockholm, Sweden to a diplomat and a model. His childhood was a sheltered, rose-colored one, albeit a bit lonely. His mother was around often, considering she didn’t work much after she got pregnant, and his father was usually away on international business. He constantly wished for a sibling, because even though his mother was stay-at-home, she was too busy with trying to relive her glory days.
He was a shy kid. He never really had many close friends, but the ones that broke through his walls, he was very loyal to. This meek nature caused him to be well-liked by many in his class, and it was also enough to keep him from being bullied. That’s not to say his friends weren’t. Erik had an affinity to adopt trouble-makers, and his best friend, Oskar, was the epitome of that concept.
Oskar was a drinker and a smoker by the time he was twelve. Erik took pity on him, which caused him a lot of grief in their teenage years. The golden boy that Erik was soon became tarnished by Oskar’s presence. Fights, running from the cops, and getting suspended from school were only some of the few things that happened to Erik and Oskar.
{tw: drug overdose} Despite what everyone said, Erik did his best to be there for his friend. When they were both nineteen, Oskar died of a heroin overdose. Erik continues to blame himself for not being able to save him.
After Oskar’s death, Erik dropped out of college and became a medic in the Swedish army. Despite no wars and Sweden being a relatively neutral country, the army was a way to forget and forgive (though there was much forgiveness and very little forgetting). He was based in different European countries for a while, learning the medical trade and otherwise spreading goodwill. At twenty-seven, he left the army and pursued a life of philanthropy, usually finding himself establishing good fortune in poorer countries.
At thirty, he found himself being drawn to San Francisco. It was a far-fetched concept to him, considering he had lived in more naturally-based societies for the last few years. But, never one to ignore his gut, he felt that he had to be in the city, though he hasn’t figured out why yet.
Headcanons...
Erik can speak five languages (each with varying degrees of skill): Swedish, English, German, French, and Filipino.
Erik has an off and on girlfriend, Anki, who lives in Sweden. They are currently off at the moment, but he loves her dearly. They have a child: two-year old, Oskar (guess where the name came from). They have a good relationship, and Erik wears a vintage locket that has pictures of both Anki and Oskar.
Erik is an amazing singer, but he doesn’t do it for crowds. He prefers to have a smaller audience.
His favorite hobbies include painting, hiking, reading, and singing.
He currently works at a music shop, where he tunes guitars. He doesn’t need a job, as his parents shove money at him, but he doesn’t really care for money.
Erik is semi-unaware of being reborn as Apollo, though he has had thoughts that he is different. Mainly they come in dreams. They are vivid, usually depicting him strolling naked in the woods, or speaking to councils, or catching winged horses and strapping them to a chariot. Some dreams involve the sun and impressing mortals with feats of sparks from his golden arrows. But, when Erik wakes, he chalks it all down to an intense imagination.
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