#mppan

with @mppan

Asking people about Greek gods on the island, she’d gotten quite a list of them. Most could be found as owners of this or the other business place, but some of them required more of a search. The one she sets out to meet today is, in fact, also one of the owners, but when she read his name that first time around, she hadn’t even realised that he was Greek. Only when she’d heard his name drop later on did she figure it out.

So now here she is, standing in a flower shop looking at the plants. Being a city girl her entire life, she loved flowers and plants like any other self-respecting person: in a pot taken care of by others, or in a vase somewhere requiring nothing other than water and eventually withering away. So this wasn’t exactly her kind of place, if she was really honest, but then perhaps she could bring back a bouquet for her brother and father. Men were given flowers way too little, after all.

Turning her gaze away from the flowers, she looks over at the people currently in the store, wondering which one of them is working there and which of them are just customers. She also wonders if Pan is currently here or if she’ll have to leave a message for him and get him to meet her somewhere. But then, hadn’t someone told her he couldn’t read?

@mppan

Even if he’s spent thousands and thousands of years managing the Underworld, the dead and every Greek soul that has come and gone, Hades has hardly ever so much as connected fully with a single one of them. The only ties in his life have always been to his siblings, his wife and the few of them he called friends. And none of those ties were ever physical. He’s always been very careful to avoid getting tangled up with the dead, to avoid giving one of them the ability to feed off his own life force should theirs falter.

All that had changed just a scant three years ago when Pan’s soul had suddenly appeared in his Underworld and Hades had scrambled to fix him. Three years in this world, at least, though many years had passed for Hades in that realm between realms where he’d been launched into to answer for his actions. He has never shown remorse, though, has never once regretted the actions taken, not even the fact that there is now a single tie connecting him to another being, one single god ever so slightly feeding off him - unaware of it himself, most likely.

He’s not sure what exactly Pan has credited his continuously sustained energy to. Though Hades had told him to find a connection to the wilds of Mount Phoenix, to get it from all the places he could, and Pan had most definitely listened, there is still that occasional moment where he can feel the god of the Wild straining to reach for just that little bit more necessary energy, and Hades provides it unasked every time. He’s not about to tell his friend this is what’s going on, not about to make him aware of it, because it might make Pan feel less secure and that is the last thing they need in this entire mess.

Especially today, when it’s been exactly three years since it all happened. Exactly three years since Hades picked Pan’s soul out of the line of souls headed for their judgement and gave him new life. Exactly three years since Hades suffered the longest stretch of being trapped in his life. He regrets not a single thing of it.

mount phoenix forest, current time with @mppan

it’s been a while since last she visited pan in his current domain, and so airmid has taken it upon herself today to go visit him. there was a time when they used to see each other a lot more often, even a time when they travelled together, but those are days long gone. ever since they both found residence at mount phoenix the visits are slightly less sporadic than in the last few centuries, but really she should be putting more effort into seeing him, she thinks.

then again, maybe he doesn’t want to see her more often at all.

her road takes her through the mountains, not the type of person to go through the city unless she has to. it’s a familiar climb considering she’s done it often before, and so her fingers and toes find their holds easily. the path she takes goes by several small streams and a single spring, until eventually she comes out onto a small path used mainly by the mountain goats that reside in this part of the mountains. once she’s followed it all the way down it’s already a whole different kind of vegetation, and a few minutes walking more she finds herself at the edge of the forest.

it’s often funny how suddenly the forest begins. one moment you’re still on somewhat rocky ground and the next there’s all kinds of plants, bushes and trees sprouting up all around you. she loves it, though, loves the feeling of stepping into an entirely different world. loves, too, the sounds and smells of the forest, so reminiscent of some of the places she’s loved to have lived. there are, of course, quite some more mythological creatures roaming this place than where she used to live, but she’s not scared. she’s never been scared.

🌊

  It’s a simple slip that could end in danger beyond words for him. At first, the demigod just blinks in surprise as the fork is pulled from his hand midway toward his mouth by Pan and is about to make a sordid remark when he sees why it had been so suddenly ripped from his grasp. He had been daydreaming when he made the purchase and all the way to the forest where he was having a long lunch, and daying dreaming as he had been talking with the god.

  Heather had been daydreaming so much so that he had missed the danger that his fruit bowl held in it. Kiwis. Thinly sliced little bits of death were mixed in with the other fruits and waiting to be devoured by the less anaphylactic consumer. It was only because Pan had been a vigilant god when he wanted to be that he had taken notice before all chaos could ensue on the newcomer.

@mppan continued from here:

The wild does not sleep at night. The wild lives and breathes when the creatures of day are most dead to the world, and the creatures of fang and claw and flashlight eyes take the darkened world by storm. It is for this reason that Pan, as always, feels the presence of a demigod enter his forest. He knows this enemy - that of his lover’s but just a little weaker. Aislinn. As for why she is entering the forest at night, Pan cannot fathom. It’s not that he’s worried about her; Aislinn is more than capable of holding her own when she needs to, and besides, the creatures of the forest - generally speaking - know not to harm her. Most of them like her, even.

But the question stands.

Rather than rise from his wildflower throne, Pan twirls his fingers and closes his eyes to become the wind, whispering through it as it passes over Aislinn’s form. The branches of trees around her shake to play the song of leaves that is the sound of Pan’s mild amusement and curiosity. The forest itself quivers with vitality.

“What has brought you into my forest so late, my dear?”

She walks ever with quiet steps, the forest like a second home to her, even if her parental lineage gives her no ties to it at all. Except for the wings she can grow, the bird shape she can take on, there is absolutely no connection between her and the forest. Except that its keeper is her uncle, and perhaps the only other person as close to her mother as she is.

So if she’s here more for her own peace of mind than to make sure that he is fine, that is not necessarily something the world needs to know.

She smiles as the wind brings her the sound of her uncle’s voice, and tilts her head to let it brush past her face, kiss her cheeks and allow her to breathe in the scent of nature. Only when it’s fully passed does she open her eyes and lower her head. She doesn’t really look in a particular direction, knows the god of the wild isn’t necessarily anywhere nearby, and so she just speaks out loud, figures he will hear her fine.

‘prodigal son’ starters: not accepting

"honestly, dude, is it ever what you want?” he counters easily, and despite his supposedly annoyed tone of voice there’s a small grin that appears on his features moments later. “probably only when it’s you and handsome people naked in the forest - or anywhere else works too, i bet.”

he shakes his head lightly in amusement at the thought, can definitely see pan throw him a pout at the suggestion that all the god of the wild ever wants to do is sleep around with every attractive person he comes across. it’s not just simple insinuation, though, he’s pretty certain this is how a part of pan’s wild brain must operate; instinct alone.

COME GET Y’ALLS SWEATER @mppan

//

  He had meant to finish it sooner. He really did, but with the start of the final semester he has, things getting more serious with Santino and the seasonal harvest shift- the guy’s been busy! Still, slow as it was, Dakota has been carefully crocheting a fresh and new sweater for the god Pan to replace the one that the god had ultimately wore to pieces of frayed and wild yarn. It’s lush green color had gone muddy and for the most part unrecognizable and there were dead leaves and twigs in what was left of the cozy sweater when he had wrestled it off the forest god. The chiding had been relentless as he stormed off scrappy sweater in his equally dirty hands declaring that he would make him a better one that would hopefully last longer than a year.

  In truth, the young Mayan knows it won’t no matter what he does and that he will be making these sweaters for the rest of his life now because he had seen the way Pan had loved this now ratty one and the sad puppy eyes he got when he refused to return it.

  So it is for these reasons that Dakota stayed up a little later each night for the last three weeks, eyes trained on the pattern he makes from the soft yarn. It was the very best he could buy and he even had traded some of the harvests of his honey reserves and a fair bit of corn he danced up for the amount he needed to make the vastly oversized sweater the way he thought would be the comfiest for the god.

  Finally! It’s the middle of the night when he casts off the final stitch and holds up the garment to look over it contently before he holds it to his chest quickly as if he can press the joy he feels at completing it into the very weave of it. Scooting out of bed after placing a kiss to Santino’s sleeping cheek he takes off.

  The journey is quick and still muscle memory for him from his days of looking over the god’s resting place so he comes upon the edge of the forest soon. Bold as he always is the demigod walks right in uncaring of the hour or the potential danger he might face from animals, the sweater in his hands as he moves.

meme: starters from fox’s ‘prodigal son’

Pan’s words haven’t properly come out of his mouth when Hades is already snorting so hard that he nearly chokes on it. Coughing a little while laughing at the same time, he reaches a hand out to pat the god of the Wild’s shoulder as if indulging a younger sibling with a so-called ‘great idea’ that really can’t bring any good whatsoever.

“Oh Pan,” he says when he finally manages to get a proper breath in again, reaching up to mess up the other god’s hair, then shakes his head. “If there ever comes a moment when I learn to listen to you, it will mean I have truly come to the ends of my wits and it would be best if the sisters of fate cut my thread.”

He gives a little shake of his head, the absolute amusement still playing in the grin that tugs up the corners of his mouth and sparkling with mirth in his eyes. His arm easily gets slung around the other god’s shoulders, pulling Pan in a little closer as he continues on their path.