#mpxmorrigan

@mpxmorrigan

She’s been without her mother before. Of course she has. Morrigan has never been a smothering mother, keeping the girl by her side at all times. The thing is, she has never been this long without her mother. And though she is fine herself and didn’t necessarily feel unsafe or lonely without the goddess around, it was the long months without even the slightest bit of contact that had her worried. Worried because, well, she’d never been in a position before where she did not know with quite solid certainty that Morrigan was fine.

Until now.

So when her mother’s call reverbrates through her very bones, she nearly drops everything to run towards it. Only she doesn’t. Because Morrigan was never a smothering mother. Morrigan has always given her the space to breathe whenever she needed it and the call doesn’t so much feel like something she should be responding to, not right this moment.

Still, there is nothing keeping her from going there in the evening, after work is done and she has eaten something for sustenance. She finds them easy, a murder of crows descended on the trees, guarding what almost seems to be a coffin of sorts, but she is certain her mother is not that. Because that is impossible. Morrigan could never die.

So she sits quietly, among the rest of her current kind, watching and waiting, ready to sit out the night and see if Morrigan will rise during it. If not, she’s more than willing to return the next night. And the next night after. As long as it takes to see her mother, to make sure she is alright. Conversation can be for a different day, even, she doesn’t mind. A glimpse is all she wishes for right now.

There’s something very humbling about walking through the streets of Mount Phoenix towards the fitness place his mother owns, knowing he’s going there to ask her if he can maybe work there.

Does he really want to work? No. Does he really want to work for his mother? Even less. Does he really want to teach a self defence class to idiots? Definitely not.

But he needs the money. He tells himself it’s because he needs the money.

Not because every minute he’d spent in that place during his previous stay had felt like the greatest minute in his life. Not because he’s always so entirely at peace whenever he feels his mother’s presence nearby (and it took him only thirty-nine days after leaving Mount Phoenix to admit that feeling was because of his mother and not because he was punching a bag as hard as he could).

Still. He’s doing this for the money. There’s nothing more to it.

So, when he enters the Zero to Hero and almost instantly spots the familiar shape of her in one of those places he quickly learned she liked to watch her business from, he’s not relieved. His muscles don’t instantly relax and the set of his shoulder doesn’t soften. And he’s definitely not smiling.

He’s here for the money.

His feet keep walking, as he goes to where she is. That familiar face he only spoke once to. But they didn’t need to speak after that for her presence and her continuous watch over him to make him feel like he had family. To make him feel like she cared.

And so the moment he’s within earshot, he speaks a greeting.

“Hello...” A heartbeat’s pause. Another one. He swallows hard. “...mother.”

It’s awkward, the word rolls of his tongue like it’s foreign. Because it is. Because he’s never used it before. And he didn’t want to use it, of course, but what better way to get her to say yes than to appeal to her love for her children? Yes, he’s definitely using that title for her sake.

@mpxmorrigan

A flock of sheep were grazing on the rolling hills of northern Ireland. It was exactly the sort of place named as Pan’s domain. He was in the form he so often took, the lower body and horns of a goat, covered by his fur but completely devoid of a single shred of clothing. Hardy little plants and flowers grew between the craggy rocks with each of his footsteps as he watched the flock and their shepherd with an almost fatherly gaze. He didn’t often visit this part of the world, as he preferred the wilds that were full of trees, or at least an interesting landscape. Rolling and craggy hills often thick with fog were not his favorite place to visit.

Pan hated smelling like wet fur.

He stood a ways away from the flock that he wouldn’t be sighted by the shepherd, not really interested in making an explanation for his appearance. Certainly, the humans around here still often believed in pagan gods, but it wouldn’t have been the first time he had encountered someone who didn’t and he didn’t care to repeat the experience.

Long strides led him the rest of the way to a nearby forest, were he was about disappear into when he ran right into someone. He stepped back with a gasp, ready to run or to fight or to...

@mpxmorrigan

Amaterasu had gained a reputation in Mount Phoenix to being one of the more laidback goddesses. After all, being a librarian seemed to have blessed the Japanese goddess with infinite amount of patience and gentility that it was hard to believe sometimes that she was once a proud conqueror and bloodthirsty warrior.

That was all about to change. With the arrival of Tsukiyomi (and Amaterasu suspected Susanoo was not too far behind), Amaterasu surprised even herself with the strength of her own reactions. Nothing at work seemed to placate the sudden reawakening of anger boiling beneath the surface, and every so often she had had staff come up to her to ask for to lower the temperatures that fluctuated all over the Library and Museum.

She was angry. And she needed an outlet.

It seemed logical therefore that among those whom she could call friends, Amaterasu went to the one person who could help her channel all that rage. Inari would mean well, but he would try to calm her down, Apollo would probably try to distract her rather than help, so that left Morrigan.

She made no prior calls, nor left any messages, but showed up at the Celtic goddess’ apartment one morning, positively pulsing with energy. If any ignorant mortal could spot her, they’d probably be confused as to why a petite Asian looking woman sported such a ferocious look on her face while holding two large cups of coffee and a box of donuts, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and dressed like she was about to beat the stuffing out of anybody who approaches.

They wouldn’t be wrong.

With a little magic, Amaterasu rang Morrigan’s doorbell, prepared to placate the goddess with her offerings before not-so-subtly dragging the other woman to train her. She needed a teacher and a sparring partner, and Amaterasu would not settle for anybody but the best.

gentle prompts: no longer accepting

Valentina was rambling, as she often did when around people she didn't know very well. Always trying to fill any silence and never allowing a lull in conversation, wanting to make sure whomever she as conversing with would be fully entertained by their interaction. She'd met Morrigan a few times off hand at events on the islalnd and she'd seen the goddess at Minx a few times but this was the first time the demigoddess had spent time with her for a longer bit of time. Val was being her overly extroverted self, telling a funny story about an ex-girlfriend of hers from when she lived in America. Her long nails clicking together as she expressively spoke with her hands.

The demigoddess thought nothing of their interaction at the bar in Minx until Morrigan slipped a hand around the back of Valentina's neck and pulled her into a kiss suddenly. Never one to turn down a kiss, especially from a beautiful goddess, Val leaned into it with her own warm hand finding it's way to Morrigan's cheek. Her eyes held an inquisitive twinkle, her brow raised when the goddess pulled away after only a second. She pulled back and reached for her drink, clearing her throat to speak from the surprise.

"Not that I'm not incredibly flattered and more than happy to kiss you but, what was that for may I ask?"

Cassandra had found herself in a fight. Two males laid on the ground before her after her fury had decided that she needed to start swinging. Anger consumed Cassandra, and it lead to the men unconscious with what appeared to be a goddess now scolding her for her actions.

"I am who I am. There is no changing that." She spoke, not dare looking the goddess in the eyes. There was no wins to be made in this conversation. "Anyway, I barely harmed them. They were merely too weak to stand against me. Maybe, you should speak to them instead."

Sometimes, it was hard to be around the strong goddess. The sense of inferiority attacked her ego bad, no matter how motherly Morrigan always was to her. Morrigan poised herself as a warrior queen fit to rule the world, and Angela was the polar opposite, a weak demigoddess who seemed only to be victim of another evildoer's hands.

Morrigan's words came out of love, and Angela knew it. "I know what you are willing to do." She speaks softly, running her fingers through the hair of a sleeping Siwoo. "But, it would be nice for me to not have to even worry about being protected anymore. I feel like I have a target on my back."