#mppan

@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.

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.

@mppan

He’s never been as limitlessly fond of her as some of the other deities she tends to spend time with, she knows this, but at the same time she has always been more than fond of him. There is a thing to him that she loves, a quality she can’t seem to get enough of. Over the years she’s done plenty speculation to figure out what it is exactly, but she’s never quite managed to pinpoint it. Lately she’s simply come to name it as the adventure to him.

There is never a dull moment when you’re spending time with the god of the Wild, after all.

So it’s no surprise that she seeks him out more times than he cares to have her visit, most probably, ending up within the boundaries of his forest. She’s always barefoot, never once attempting to step onto the wild with things created outside of nature’s will. Never once trying to soil his kingdom with her presence.

Still, she’s skipping as she arrives, coming to a halt at the edge of the trees and reaching out to gently rest her hand against one. “Tráthnóna maith, uncail,*” she calls into the forest, letting the sound of her voice fade into the wilderness as she smiles brightly at the green around her. What a wonderful sight the forest always makes in the spring.

“Can I have a flower in my hair today? It’s been a long time.” She knows he can reach her from any direction possible before she’ll even know he’s there, so she doesn’t attempt to look for him. Instead she looks up into the canopy to see if she can spot any of the birds that are twittering away happily.

@mppan

She was just minding her own business walking down the street. Sure she was only in a bikini top and shorts but, hey, it was hot and she’s just been at the beach. Val stopped at an intersection when she felt eyes on her from behind, she turned to face who it was and questioned them quickly with; “Why are you staring at me so damn hard?”

@mppan

it started out as a regular day, with regular events and a regular shift at work. that is, until his continued awareness of his daughter’s inner flame suddenly turns cold, as if she winked out of existence altogether in a split second. many things have happened to him in his life, many ways in which he’s lost children, but never on this island. never right here at home where he has always believed them to be capable enough to handle themselves.

he does not hesitate, he does not stop, every fire under his control dies out in a heartbeat and he is moving to the door, burning the apron off himself. he barely remembers to throw a ‘can’t feel my daughter anymore’ at freya before he’s out the door, striding through the restaurant until he’s out the door and then breaking out into a run. in no time he turns to fire, always quicker to spread than his feet can run, and he is moving through the city, checking every single corner of it to find her.

there is no trace, no trace even after covering the entire city, checks the beach, the mountains,.. eventually he reaches the forest’s edge, full out of patience, consumed with the need to find his daughter, to know what has happened to her and who has done it. he shifts back to his human shape, entirely naked but also too focused to care, just so he can set the place around him aflame, devouring trees within seconds and burning them to nothing but ash, not even a stump left.

continued from here with @mppan

Krystal felt embarrassed by the compliment and a light blush began to creep up her neck. She’s honestly not sure why she began the conversation like that but, it was too late to go back on it now. Plus, they are pretty handsome so why not flirt a little. It didn’t take long for her to reapply the mask of cold indifference to her face as she walked up to the counter.

“I’m actually looking for a specific plant. I wasn’t sure if you’d have it but, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.” She paused and placed her hands folded on the counter as she took a quick look around the shop. “It’s a plant called Comfrey or Symphytum officinale? I didn’t know where else to look on the island so here I am.” After reading about it in one of the old medicine books she’d found in the library, she felt this pull to own one. It had interesting healing properties and was actually very pretty.

“my secret love…. once upon a time…” 

                  w/ @mppan

​When Morrigan had been brought the news she stiffened, brushing the bird that had landed upon her shoulder away. Aside from the thinning of her lips, the goddess showed no exterior sign of dismay.

For a long six minutes flocks of crows descended on the island, blackening the skies and blotting out the sun. When they finally disappeared into a shrieking whirlwind of inkiness, the streets were littered with feathers and echoes.

Her visit was delayed.

Through swarms of red eyes she observed the coming and going of gods and goddesses alike. Pan was certainly not hers to guard, but she hovered nonetheless, just at the edge of the clearing, or in the branches of trees.

Times were changing. They were tied in a sense; both had felt it. Humans were destructive and awful- so her nature would always be fed and nurtured. His on the other hand. If she could weep she would.

-and when she does arrive its silently. Perhaps she should have come sooner to dote upon the fallen man. Maybe she should have brought well wishes and gentleness, but she does not. Had not.

How long has it been since she’s come before him this way? Since they’ve laid in the grass together this way? She crawls towards him and bare skin moves through foliage with naught but a whisper. His altar rises above them and she regards this place the Wild God has reclaimed with a moment of muted awe. Is this Arcadia reconstructed? There is a resonating rage here that keeps the Morrigan on her knees.

Often she thinks it is forgotten just how powerful and all consuming nature truly is.

“A rúnsearc…”

The tips of her nails graze chilled skin as she leans over this form of his. The motion is reminiscent of a moment shared before. Her dark hair curtains them and she regards him silently for a few more dragging seconds. There is nothing she can do for him now. Not yet. It’s both too late and too soon.

“Fadó…”

Sinking down besides him she guides a motionless hand into her own and then above her breast to let him feel the pulse of this constructed heart. Does it match the beat of the forest around them and the beasts peering through the trees, she wonders.

@mppan

Zeus always kept an imaginary eye out for Greek gods to arrive in Mount Phoenix. So great was his surprise when suddenly he got aware of Pan’s presence again. He still remembered the God to have been around when he’d freshly arrived to Mount Phoenix. Due to Zeus prioritizing meeting his ‘close’ family and friends, the lightning God hadn’t come around to greet Pan before the latter left Mount Phoenix. Not having expected him to return, now that he was back however Zeus decided to instantly go and meet up with Pan.

Letting Pan’s aura guide him to the forest his feet led him to what apparently was Pan’s unconscious body. “Pan?” he asked with a smile. Surprise but also amusement audible in his voice. Of every spot the God could have chosen to have a nap, right in front of his wildflower throne didn’t seem like the best option to the lightning God. When Pan didn’t react to his voice, however, a frown formed on Zeus’ face. Repeating Pan’s name he headed over to his body where he crouched down next to it.