mind mischief

your godly parent is athena, goddess of wisdom and strategy, arts and crafts, battle and reason.

athena's children are quick-thinking, witty, wise and responsible. as one of them, you are known to think several steps ahead, and plan for every inevitability. children of athena are also very sympathetic towards to those in need, and will do anything to help those less unfortunate than them. they also have no problems in sharing their knowledge with others, and you'll find them spouting facts about their favorite things all the time. children of athena have lots of patience and motivation, and once they begin a task, they will not rest until they finish it. athena's children also are plagued with problems of pride and vengeance; they believe they are the best at everything and when crossed, will go to elaborate lengths to exact their payment. because you appreciate the subtleties of intelligence and strategy, sometime you can be closed off to more emotional intuition and asking for help in these areas can be challenging. athena gets along very well with artemis, due to them having similar personalities. children of athena are also quite popular, if not for their intelligence, then for their ability to have a conversation with almost anybody.

qualities: brilliance, intelligence, wisdom, logic, generosity, kindness, pride, diligence, vengeance, order

i saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked. // tyger tyger, burning bright // i have done it again. // do not go gentle into that good night. // the sea is calm tonight. // let us go then, you and i, // april is the cruelest month. // pretty women wonder where my secret lies. // there is a place where the sidewalk ends. // i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) // two roads diverged in a yellow wood. // whose woods these are i think i know, // let us twain walk aside from the rest. // once upon a midnight dreary, while i pondered, weak and weary, // i taught myself to live simply and wisely. // it so happens i am sick of being a man // i wandered lonely as a cloud // does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? // o my love is like a red, red rose. // o captain! my captain! our fearful trip is done; // out of the night that covers me // it was many and many a year ago // you may write me down in history // do not stand at my grave and weep // some say the world will end in fire // some say in ice. // hope is the thing with feathers // the wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees, // no man is an island, // remember me when i am gone away, // i met a traveler from an antique land // ‘twas brillig, and the slithy toves // this is thy hour o soul, // when we wear the mask that grins and lies, // death be not proud, // and death shall have no dominion. // laugh, and the world laughs with you; // the art of losing isn’t hard to master; // to see a world in a grain of sand // is there anybody there? said the traveller // nobody heard him, the dead man, // that crazed girl improving her music. // come to me in the silence of the night; // where the mind is without fear and the head is held high // when you are old and grey and full of sleep, // in flanders’ fields the poppies blow // i thought of you and how you love this beauty // life, believe, is not a dream // it may be misery not to sing at all, // if starry space no limit knows // come live with me and be my love, // had we but world enough and time, // my heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense // bright star, would i were steadfast as thou art // thou still unravish’d bride of quietness // how do i love thee? let me count the ways. // heaven is what i cannot reach! // my dear, my dear, i know // in visions of the dark night // shall i compare thee to a summer’s day? // break, break, break // she walks in beauty, // i had a dream, which was not at all a dream. // he clasps the ring with crooked hands.

“ooooh boy… here comes little-miss-trouble. and by that, literally.” his laughter breaks, then is chopped up into bits of hitches as he takes a moment to fully savor her valor. she definitely swings and grabs his attention, but also hits that etherized nerve of his with a tricky statement. however, in the nick of time — he is in the least bit of worry. her mention of his drug-dealing job, a fluke of an accurate statement or not, doesn’t seem to have overtone or any of that threatening nuance from his hunch. then again, maybe he’s wrong. maybe it’s just how people turn criminals in these days, coming right at their faces. but really, when it comes down to taking theories out of one’s rationale — who the fuck knows? “yeah… well, business isn’t goin’ too good this season. nobody wants to snort that frozen dust. or should i call it snow?” and there you have a silly homeless boy, proud of his own witty joke with a smug, wide grin plastered on his face. 

still half-frozen, but it’s getting there.

a stray cat, as whimsical he comes off to be, doesn’t let his guards down in entirety. because while he doesn’t have anything to lose physically, psychically, he loses it all when taken into domesticity. call it jail, dungeon, purgatory… whatever–––all the same, essentially. so he pulls the lever up once, not haste about pulling it all the way up just yet. testing the water, if you will. “oh, i’m freezing, alright. why, are ‘ya here to spare me a blanket or two? or are ‘ya really just tryna make a decent conversation with a hoodlum?”

{ `수희 ;  she laughs him in scorn: the blood-spoor of a wide-eyed daughter’s greatest tragedy is engraved in ice as is now this cold boy’s beaming image into her eye; she begins to wonder if he has ever before wreathed in smiles, as if a lovesick fool or perhaps at a clever gag in-between a circle of friends, but at a moment’s wit halts thinking twice. nightfall, briskly overhead, obscures the glowing red of the setting sun, and by each passing second her deadened toes itch to seek someplace warm.  “ mm, snow, huh ? ”  — cue a snicker and a faint roll of the eyes —  “ that’s funny. ”  a twitch of an eyebrow betrays her paltry suspicions, but ultimately, she chooses to spurn his offhand mentions.

[...]

stranger talks aren’t that rare, and he is the least to care. unless it has to do with those annoying, nosy pep-talks from over-privileged pricks. please note, that words of condolence nor word to the wise will put him in a toasty room. a frown emerges from unpleasant tingles of his squat and he lifts himself up, concurrently throwing the cigarette burnt in thirds. it’s not for any of those gentlemanly manner-sake when the girl engages — his hands are simply too frigid to be holding that filter for any longer. “i would be up to somethin’, should be up to somethin’, but it’s not the weather for anythin’.” he doesn’t at all even attempt at being regardful ; a glance and it tells as much as the deepest of scrutinies when all you’ve been doing your life is people observing, people dealing, and people disliking (disliking, not hating!) “and what’s a princess like you doin’ here? askin’ for trouble must be your thing.”

{ `수희 ;  this onslaught, crystallized by frost: must she be unthinkingly reminded of her ill-bred mother and father, dearest saints with devil horns, they whom she has been fantasizing to lie facedown in the sea? in all of their tenderness, in all of their cooing, they bestowed upon her splendor and shelter — they granted her domesticity, but foremost thieved her of her own. she has long borne loathing for the season, and it very well reciprocates the thought: christmas is a season of joy, of sharing, giving and caring, for spending time with friends and family — a mockery! her benumbed hands sink deeper into gabardine pockets, her chest a gaping hole from where at least an ounce of festivity should be.

but she, unlike this lonesome crowd, does not only bat her lids but keeps them peeled. to heed the affairs of others has become more of a regimen than a hobby; where else can she draw life from than the lost, the mad and the lonely, seeing as she has lost hers?

duly, today’s main point of attraction: a stranger who appears to be in his early twenties, graphic and gripping, juxtaposed to the otherwise desolate bridge --- almost picturesque.  “ taking shelter from the snow, or up to something else ?  ”