I Speak for the Trees for the Trees have no Tongues

Smells Like Teen Angst || Pan&Minsung

          Minsung practically blanched, he really hates strong odors, especially if one smelled like they never bathed ever since they were born. The other male smelled like one, it’s worse than a pile of corpses that’s mixed with rotting food. The other had been right about one thing, he’s oddly well too familiar with this kind of smell.

          It reminds him of the smell of his home, near the slums of metropolitan where no one bats an eye and pretends it doesn’t exist. After all, Minsung the rotten smell of dirt and trash were the one that greeted him every morning, covering the sunlight from the cracked window like a dense cloud. 

          His eyes followed the other carefully as he walked closer to him. Which, he really prayed to any god that he wouldn’t take another step closer to him. None of his words seemed to have any threats to him rather, it feels like the stranger is just teasing and making fun of him. 

          “It does,” he mumbled out, letting the male approach him closer before he closed the distance between them and landed a punch on the other’s face enough that he can hear something crack, though he’s not sure if it’s his fists or the other’s nose. 

          “Sorry,” he apologized, there’s no emotions present in the tone of his voice. “Reflex,” he explained briefly, feeling not at all sorry.

If there’s one thing Pan can really tell about the demigod in front of him, it’s that the kid really hates him. He’s not even sure if the kid hates him in particular or if he’s just in a severely bad mood, but either way, the outcome is the same. It’s definitely a source of entertainment for the wild god; demigods never seem to know their place. Especially, it seems, when it comes to wild animals.

When the punch lands, Minsung barely has the time to drop the two little two-syllable words before a growling roar that a human throat should not be able to create booms from Pan. It’s not a sound of anger or even pain, but rather an older wolf telling a younger one it has gone too far in its play. A warning. There is nothing the demigod can do to actually hurt the god before him. But that doesn’t mean he should be trying either.

The roar echoes around them far more than it has any right to, a testament to Pan’s control over their current environment, and is still ringing when Pan pounces. He easily knocks Minsung into the dirt, holding him down with a god’s full weight. There’s barely any power put into it. It’s an easy enough task.

“Sorry,” Pan repeats, grinning at the still-gravelly sound of his own voice.

“Reflex.”

Eyes green as freshly sprouted plants silently egg on the boy trapped beneath him, practically begging for a fight.

The wild god could do with some play, even something as fragile as a mortal. He knows how to be careful with his toys.

A delicate smile pulls on her lips as she gazing adoringly on the male. Sol was quick to give her affections and adorations, though she was not admitting this to the male. Pan seemed amusing enough to the goddess to waste time with, and she was fairly certain he was not that of the filth that littered her pantheon. “Show me what you got.” She teases, and her hand reaches up to try and push away her laughter. “I’m very difficult to please.” Her eyes glint with mischief as the little lie leaves her lips. 

Sol’s heart warmed at the god’s reactions to her touches and warmth. The cute and adorable stirred her heart the most, and while cute and adorable were not normal terms to associate with a wild god, his actions before her clumped him with group. So while she originally backed up to get him to chase her, she cannot keep it up for too long. “Pan.” She nearly purrs his name, and she halts for a moment. Her hands reach up to run through her long, golden hair. “I’m Sol, the goddess of the sun. However, I do like being called your savior much more.”

Her eye travels around the forest, before they land back on him. “Your forest is lovely. It is the first that I have been able to explore one of these.” Compliments easily slips out her lips, but she knew it was the warmth he really wanted. Sol takes teasingly slow steps toward him, fighting a smirk from taking over her smile. Something about the god allowed her to be so playful without fearing that she would cause some grievance. 

The goddess returns right before him, and her hands gently trail up his chest before wrapping around his neck, though as she looks up to his face she giggles softly. She pulls him forward a step so that he can stand where she was so that his feet would no longer be standing on the last evidence of cold. “Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Something about the goddess and the way that she speaks reminds Pan of a perhaps much gentler Morrigan; and yet, she shines with a youth as ancient as the scent of blood that accompanies the Raven Queen. What they share seems to be little more than what Pan finds very attractive in a woman: unwavering confidence and unmistakable strength.

Maybe. He’s certainly delighted to find out.

She confirms his suspicions of her identity with the same grace Pan usually associates with solar goddesses. Apollo could kiss his ass, but Pan has never had a problem playing the sycophant toward those with power over heat when it came to the dead of winter. Pride could wait until the warmer months. “You are more than welcome to be my savior whenever you like as long as snow covers the ground. After that point, I think I would much rather call you friend.” It’s not quite as suggestive as Pan’s opening words to new companions tend to be, but the cold does strange things to his head. If she is willing to be flirted with, it will have to wait until the frost is melted from the wild god’s mind.

“You haven’t been in a forest before?” Pan asks with genuine bemusement almost to the point of shock. Even most demigods have been to some kind of wilderness at least once in their life, but an immortal goddess never having done so? He’s not quite sure he believes her. If she means the forest on this island, then that is a much more believable statement.

A wave of pure warmth like midsummer sunshine comes at him as the goddess approaches. Her hands trail like brands after the months of cold that have crept into him. Pan barely even tries to stifle his moan of pleasure at the sudden warmth that chases the cold from his ancient bones, and he can’t help but feel a bit too much like a young stag during an early spring for just a moment. Though the power is lent, Pan will happily run with it.

Tried and True | Pan & Hades

Pan calls him an old man sometimes and he scoffs like he minds, when really he doesn’t in the slightest, because he is an old man sometimes, no matter how youthful he stays mostly thanks to his wife’s love and affection. Admittedly coming in contact with the youthful demigods on this island has helped him regain some sense of both life as age as well. Sometimes they teach him playfulness again, but sometimes they just make him feel ancient. Luckily today he’s feeling more on the playful than the ancient side.

“I go out a whole lot, you know,” he says lightly. “I’ve got two jobs on this island and my wife, do you really think I have much time leftover for doing anything other than kissing the ground she walks on?” He grins lightly, because the only reason he would kiss the ground she walks on is because he wants to, not because she in some way shape or form would ask it of him, of course. Theirs is a marriage of mutual love and admiration. He truly can’t imagine anyone else by his side.

When Pan says he should tell Rosebud he misses her, he gives a small nod of her head, and then reaches out to playfully flick his friend’s forehead. “How many times, wildcat?” He asks with some amusement. “I’m the god of the Underworld and the dead, not the god of death. You’re thinking of Thanatos here.”

He shakes his head lightly, but then still answers the question. “The god of the Underworld would obviously love something wolf-like, but considering there isn’t one big enough to carry a man I’ll settle for something else impressive.” 

It always amuses Pan to call his oldest friends ‘old man’ if for no other reason than because people often forget that he is as old as any of them. Luckily, and unlike so many of the Olympians, Pan is neither the son nor the brother of Zeus. His parentage has long since been forgotten, and he gets the kind of free reign that none of them are afforded, and so, like that which has remained in the deepest and most hidden parts of his domain, Pan has stayed largely unchanged since the day he was born, or made, or wherever he came from. Perhaps he has grown old, but he has certainly not grown up.

One might even say that he has refused to.

“‘Jobs’ is not ‘out’, my dear Hades,” Pan chides. Even at his own workplace, sunny and open as it is, Pan often finds himself drifting out the front door to absorb sunshine like his flowers and plants inside. At least, he does when it’s not as cold out. In the winter, he often simply finds himself grumpy. “At least kissing the ground Persephone walks on means you’re outside.” Pan rolls his eyes playfully. One thing he can agree on is that Persephone of all people actually deserves to have the ground she treads kissed. That doesn’t hold true for most of the Greeks.

The flick comes too quickly for the cold-soaked Pan to dodge it. “Always at least one more time,” he shoots back with a playful smirk. It’s the sort of thing that gets under Hades’ skin in just the way Pan likes to do. “As if I ever think of Thanatos.”

The playfulness sticks even as his smirk moves to a pout, one that deepens when Hades answers his question. “You think I can’t summon a direwolf? Out here in my own forest? There are creatures out here that would make even you shiver.” Like the boast that it is, Pan stands up straight and smirks with a little too much show of teeth, following with a throaty growl and, finally, the sort of roaring howl that one of those creatures might actually make. From the shadows behind him, a deeper shadow takes form and emerges. Red eyes glow from the darkness, the rest of the direwolf finally emerging with its tail wagging playfully as though it knows why it was summoned. It is easily large enough for Hades to ride, perhaps even for two of him.

Bes was not a teacher. He wasn’t learning how to be one, or learning at all really (he had slept through too many college classes back home to pass). So it didn’t quite make sense how they had come to this arrangement. The closest experience he had was briefly tutoring some street kids that hung around the Cairo library because it kept them out of trouble and wasn’t too strenuous. The head librarian had commented once that what he lacked in books smarts and analytical thinking he made up for in spades when it came to patience- so maybe that was how he ended up agreeing to things like this.

Who could refuse a God, after all?

Since meeting at the party they- he and Pan, god of wild things, whatever that entailed -had happened to cross paths a few too many times to be considered just acquaintances and probably too few to be friends. Wherever in the middle that left the it had wound up involving the other man coming to his apartment for tutoring. Imagine Bes’ surprise when it was revealed the deity couldn’t read or write. He supposed those things meant very little to a celestial being but… he had offered to try and teach Pan regardless. It was the thought that counted, right?

Hence here he stood, opening the door wide to welcome the other into his sanctuary of soft things for their little lesson. Bes hadn’t been on the island or in his apartment for long but it was obvious where his priorities lay when it came to decorating.

“I heated water for tea.”

Guiding Pan to the lone piece of solid furniture- a low coffee table where two cups, a few books, and a plate of sugar and tea bags sat -Bes yawned and stretched long and deliciously before he settled into the plethora of blankets and pillows that filled the entirety of the rest of the room. He had just woken up considering this was the sole item on his agenda for the day… and if the action of waking himself up a bit more happened to flash the planes of a flat stomach and sun warmed skin to his guest who was Bes to mind?

Generally speaking, Pan wasn’t the sort of person to get distracted by apartment decor. He barely knew what half the things were called, much less cared what they looked like or what purpose they served beyond their intended function as a table or a seat or coat hanger or whatever. Bes’ apartment, though, was something else altogether. It looked like it had been designed - assuming it had been designed and not simply strewn with items that fit the theme - to be the most comfortable modern space Pan had ever seen. Even Eros’ apartment couldn’t compare.

It was with this vision striking his admiring eyes that Pan found himself distracted from the very handsome demigod before him. The self control alone that Pan managed to practice not diving headfirst into the ocean of cushions and blankets could have won him a medal. Pan’s perfectly lazy smile only grew as he finally managed to drag his gaze from the room and back to its owner. 

“How nice,” the god replied, not trying even a little to hide the lack of care in his voice. Whatever it was that so many found appealing about hot leaf water, Pan did not share it. Not unless it was made by Freya or Airmid or one of their talented children. But Pan would drink it to be polite.

Far more than the tea, Pan found himself drawn to Bes in all the less polite ways. As if dangling a piece of meat in front of a hungry carnivore, Bes laid and stretched and the instinct to pounce that had been momentarily forgotten in admiration of comfort came back with a vengeance. The god lumbered over and sprawled beside his host, perhaps a little closer than would have been called for, and let a breathy moan of comfort leave his chest.

“So, teacher, where do we start?”

Laughter is the first thing that escapes the woman, soft as it fills the wintry forest like music. Of course I am hot! I am a sun goddess! Sol thinks lightheartedly, completely and utterly unaware of the true meaning of his words. “I forgive you! But, I can’t say I will be as forgiving next time.” She sticks her tongue out at him playfully. Humor lined her voice as she speaks with the male. 

While she did not mind the presence of another person, she was a bit conflicted on whether she abandoned her rather comfy spot or genuinely go greet the rather strange male who seemed to tower behind her. She decides that it would be rather rude to stay seated, and she arose from her spot, shaking her legs to get off any excess moisture before allow her dress to meet the heels of her feet once more. 

Sol takes a few brave steps closer to the male, watching him with a curiosity. She walked into this interaction with a robust bravery, not fearing of what this strange man could do. Her warm hand reaches to caress his cheek, almost as if Pan was a little puppy. “Mhhh.” She muses out as she leans toward him. “You do not seem like a demigod. Tell me who you are, and I will give you all the warmth I can give.” The goddess takes those steps back, as if to tempt the male even more to submit to her whims. 

“And here I thought I will have won you over before then. I guess I’ll just have to try a little harder.” It sounds like a flirty little joke, but anyone who knows Pan would know that to be a remark of almost deadly seriousness. That’s how much he hates winter time, how much he refuses to tolerate the cold. Sharing a bed with someone to hide away from the cold of winter is nice, but the idea of clinging to a sun goddess (one who isn’t Amaterasu, much as Pan does like her) is far more appealing.

Pan’s eyes follow the woman’s feet with a smile that betrays a bit of the envy Pan definitely feels for her at the moment. It’s a light a breezy thing; Pan isn’t given to bouts of proper envy. That would require caring about something for longer than the fleeting moment that he usually does. But much like a child looking at sweets in the shop window of a candy store, Pan does eye her feet as his own toes curl and uncurl in the cold, hard earth. Unlike this woman, Pan is not immune to the cold. Spring just can’t come fast enough.

Finally his eyes return to her lovely face. It almost shimmers with that divine light that Pan craves so much. Oh, to lie stretched out on the grass in the park in only his dirty linen pants, soaking up the sunshine like a very pleased cat. A very warm pleased cat. The thought made his skin rise into goosebumps and his hair stand on end as his body felt the stark cold all over again in comparison to his summery thoughts. His skin settles, though, as the goddess’s warm hand meets his cheek. He leans into it like a cat being pet by a beloved owner, practically nuzzling her palm. The closer the goddess gets, the more Pan wants to curl around her.

@mpxbes

At some point during the Halloween party, Pan had learned that his new feline friend was a librarian. It was almost amusing; Bes did not strike Pan as the librarian type, and Pan sure as anything would never be found in a library. He simply had no use for books. Their readers, on the other hand - or, in this case, their keepers - Pan found very interesting indeed. Maybe Pan couldn’t read books, but he thought himself pretty good at reading people.

Whether he had kept ‘coincidentally’ running into Bes because he though Bes wanted him to or whether he did so because he himself wanted to, Pan wasn’t sure. Or rather, he wasn’t particularly interested in knowing and so simply refused to think about it. If Bes didn’t want him around, the god was sure to find out and then he would leave the cat boy alone. Until then, however, Pan still had a shot. Whatever that might mean.

It only bothered Pan a little that his taste in men was a bit predictable.

Tried and True | Pan & Hades

He smiles when Pan’s answer reaches him like a whisper on the wind, the laughter dancing in the forest around him before more words follow. He smiles, can’t help the way those words amuse him. “They invited death into their very own homes,” he says easily, fingers running over the tree bark. “I doubt there is much you can tease at that they don’t already long for by the time they get here.”

He knows when Pan reaches him, materialising on the other side of the tree, but he still waits for the other god to step into sight. Pan looks quite the same as always; wild and free and full of the mischief that is so fully him. He feels his own face shift into a small smile that mirrors that on the god of the Wild’s face, then simply steps in and reaches out a hand, running it over the other god’s tangled mane of hair.

“You know I don’t enjoy running through the forest,” he says with some amusement, because he recalls the last time he was here, when he’d called upon a Hellhound to play with Pan just so that he wouldn’t have to. “However, if you can conjure up some mighty steed for me to borrow during our play then I’m willing to chase you throughout a few acres of forest.” He drops his hand again and smiles almost warmly. “Rosebud says hello, by the way.”

With bare, dirty feet that sink into the forest floor with purpose, Pan circles Hades like a cat circling its prey. Or, more accurately, like a kitten pretending to circle prey in the form of another, older cat. If Hades had been anyone else, Pan’s movements might have elicited some genuine fear out of him, but as it is there’s nothing between them to fear. Nothing for Hades to fear, anyway. Pan isn’t sure that he will ever grow out of his own fear, not at this point. It lives inside him now, the feeling of rot that will gnaw at him forever. And yet, he can’t regret it for living.

“You say that like I’m a killer or something. A hunter.” The sarcasm flows as naturally as drops of rain down the waxy surface of a leaf. And very much like a cat, Pan stops circling and closes his eyes with a smile to enjoy the light touch of affection from the other god. “You can be such an old man sometimes,” Pan offers with a playful pout. It isn’t as if their worlds intersect much; the limits and edges of Pan’s world are the line at which Hades’ starts. And yet here they are, despite everything, facing each other in warmth and in trust.

Pan can’t say he likes the feeling of being indebted, though. It sits heavily in his stomach.

“You should get out more, it’s good for you.” Pan begins to chuckle, stopping short with eyes glimmering like dappled sunshine through the trees at the suggestion that Hades might, in fact, play with him. “What kind of steed would interest the god of death, hm?”

mppan​:

Smells Like Teen Angst || Pan&Minsung

          To say that Minsung is great at direction would be laughable, a joke even. For someone as seething and vengeful as the son of Aphrodite, of course, he couldn’t let go of the person that had provoked him. Normally, he would let it go but the guy had pushed it too far that made his blood instantly boil in rage. 

          Perhaps it was a development that he can let go of his anger after wandering through the forest, where he’s sure that the guy had run into. It feels like a whiplash when he heard someone’s voice then saw someone by the lake, probably naked judging from the look of it. 

         Then the smell of land and something else hits his nose, making him blanched. “What the hell,” he groaned, frowning as his brows furrowed. What’s with this guy? It’s the 21th century and this person is taking a bath at a lake, of all places where facilities like the public baths are available. 

          “Smells like dogshit over here,” Minsung glared at the other. Oh for god’s sake, he hates how strong and putrid the smell is. Even if he’s a few feet away from the male, it feels like he’s standing right in front of a junkyard.

For all the Aphrodite energy the demigod had, he may as well have been the son of Ares. It was terribly unusual to say the least, but the prospect of such an interesting little friend to play with was definitely appealing. He was quite obviously in the mood to pick a fight; if Pan had to guess, he would say the boy’s anger was aimed at the other person who had briefly entered his forest earlier, but that person was long gone. This demigod had never even come near them. It would have almost been sad if Pan hadn’t been so amused by the ‘chase’.

Despite his statement, the demigod had come quite close to where lazily dragged himself from the water. Pan was not the sort to be offended by such a remark; it was true that he carried a very particular smell. But it was usually described as that of earth and pine resin and a hint of wildflowers in spring or ripened fruit in the fall. Clearly this boy did not have a very well-developed sense of smell. It was almost enough to make Pan pity him.

Almost. The thought alone was enough to amuse the god. This little punk didn’t seem the sort to be very keen on pity.

“Does it, now? Is that a smell you’re familiar with?” Pan took a step closer, then another, the smile on his face as lazy as his ambling walk. “You seem quite comfortable with it, if I had to judge by the fact that you’re still here. And so close too...”

Mark now got a war going on in his head. Listening intentively to the options while watching the kitten happily chomping its late dinner, the demigod found himself torn between his mind and heart. Letting the cat get back to its straying life was the first to be eliminated, for his inner voice had convinced him that it would be another thing he would love to regret doing. 

“Taking it home…is it okay?” Mark wasn’t aware that he had just spoken his thought aloud, still very much engaged in the mental process of making decisions. More often than not, it wouldn’t take him any longer than five minutes, but since another living creature was involved, Mark knew he had to take it seriously. As a question popped up in his head, the demigod looked up at the god once again, this time to ask him to ‘translate’ his message to the kitten. 

“Could you please help me ask her if she minds if I don’t spend much time with her at home? I mean, my schedules can go crazy sometimes. She doesn’t have to worry about food, but not sure if I can give her more than that…” The last few words were slightly quieter, a clear indication of uncertainty mixed with something felt like guilt. He continued after a short pause as the decision making process reached its final stage, “and if she’s not happy with that, I will just take her home for tonight, then would bring her to Stop&Paws tomorrow morning.” 

“Taking her home,” Pan said with a roll of his eyes. What was it with humans and treating animals like objects? Were so many really that unaware that the creatures that inhabited the world around them had distinct lives and personalities? Pan had to blow out an annoyed breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and he did so with a soft vibration through his throat that came out in a faint huffing growl. 

“Anyway,” Pan inclined his head toward the kitten, cocking his head to the side in question. The kitten mew-ed in quick response before returning to her enthusiastic chewing. The god’s gaze returned to the mortal holding her and shrugged. “Cats are smarter than you give them credit for. She will learn to entertain herself. If she’s got enough food and fresh water and you can provide her with some toys to keep her entertained and exercised, she will be fine.”

That was the nice thing about cats, an opinion that Pan couldn’t even pretend he shared with domesticated dogs. Dogs were far too domesticated to belong anywhere close to his domain. They were good for shepherding, but not especially good company as far as the wild god was concerned. “I’m sure you’ll make a perfectly good father.”

cat and mouse but eternally w/ @mpxmorrigan

The official story is not and will never be that Pan whined for her and the Morrigan came running. That isn’t even how it went down. Not if you ask Morrigan. But a self-indulgent Pan might try to spin the story that way. Of course, he would never claim the Morrigan was at his beck and call, it would be much more accurate the other way around. But every once in a while, day-after-day wild got bored.

And there’s nothing that spices things up quite like death.

And blood, of course. There has to be blood.

As the days grow cooler and cooler until finally Pan can feel his usually agile limbs begin to stiffen as the cold infects them like a parasite, Pan becomes more and more like a discontented child. Winter months always make him think of this particular love, and winter is fast approaching. Though he had searched the shadows of all his wild places for her, the Morrigan has so far seemed perfectly content with staying hidden. That, or she has simply been busy or elsewhere. Certainly she wouldn’t avoid him.

Would she?

That question is answered when Pan grumbles through complaint after bitter, cold-induced complaint, and he finally makes a spontaneous plea for Morrigan’s presence and company.

He can hardly believe it when she shows herself before him.

Like a loyal dog running to meet his owner, Pan approaches Morrigan in a way that suggests his tail would be wagging if he had one at the moment. Which he doesn’t, but his grin is a perfectly adequate replacement for the moment.

banana tree?! @taoxmp

When the door opened to reveal a customer that Pan had never seen before, he looked very much like his usual self. With just his bare soles pattering against the floor and a tattered sweater that was no longer the forest-green it once was nor nearly warm enough for the season, the wild god was as mildly disgruntled as he always was when the weather began to turn towards the cold. At least here in the flower shop he had to keep the space warm. Most plants and flowers simply didn’t do well in the wicked cold brought on by the continental winter. The god himself was definitely not indulging in that fact.

It never got this cold in Arcadia.

“Welcome to my flower shop,” Pan stated somewhat proudly. Few things gave him more pleasure than stating that fact. The shop and the god had quite a history.