For @mpxsana

Nathaniel had always lived a life of luxury, and that wasn’t something that he would give up just because he’d moved to Mount Phoenix. Living away from the usual dormitories, it wasn’t often that he had a visitor outside of business partners, but when there was a knock on his door in the middle of the night - just when he was changed out of his suit too - he knew who it was.

The Celtic apartments are getting more crowded than they used to be. Sehun realises this mostly because he runs into more people than ever before. It’s like suddenly all the demigods have gotten a memo that these apartments are the place to be. Or this island, perhaps.

That’s not the worst part of it, though. He can handle running into (and ignoring) a bunch of people he’s never seen before in his life. With certain examples - if he has already seen them several times before - he can even spare a nod. All part of trying to be nice to his fellow Celtics and trying to become a part of this unlikely society. An accepted part.

That all changes, of course, when the footsteps that come around the corner reveal a young, frail woman that he recognises in less than a heartbeat. Every muscle in his body tenses when he makes eye contact with those same, unchanged eyes from before. The girl from the alleyway who’d seen him beat up three guys who had tried to rob him.

It’s been months, of course, since that happened. He’d left Mount Phoenix a little after and it had taken him yet another while to return. And meanwhile he’s been back for a good month or so already. That doesn’t change anything about the fact that whenever he needs people not to recognise him, they usually do. He has no certainty that this girl won’t be one of them.

Squaring his shoulders, Sehun decides to try and go for such a different approach that maybe she’ll be thrown off kilter. He summons the friendliest smile he can manage and gives the girl a little nod of his head. Perhaps his now raven black hair and the entirely different expression and stance will make sure she doesn’t associate him with that one guy from way back when.

He hopes it will.

That starter we talked about Feat. @mpxsana

//

  He’s not going to let up on this one. Nope, nah uh. The arch of one of his eyebrows lifts as he regards her waiting. His fingers, long and agile, drum the pulse of some made up song as he waits. Food, still hot from being brought out to them separates them but he’s not going to touch it. he’s far too set on this.

  “I wanna hear you say it,” he says. “I don’t believe for a damn second you can even say it.”

  His hand stops in it’s drumming to slide just a bit further on the table, pinky finger tapping the brown surface of a napkin. There, in not so fancy scraw,l is a single word.

  ‘Fuck.’

@mpxsana

Zeus had been on his way to the Planetarium where he was supposed to meet up with his older brother when all of a sudden the girl in front of him collapsed on the sidewalk. Luckily the god of Lightning was quick to respond and instead of gasping or jumping away from the girl, like the other by-standers did, he ran forward to crouch down next to her. Placing a hand on her upper arm he used his other hand to brush hair out of her face so he could see if she was having some kind of epileptic shock or perhaps a stroke or so. “Hey?” he tried to get her to look at him, “What’s your name?” Leaning to the side so his head would hover in front of her line of sight he spoke slowly and reassuringly, “I’m Zeus. I’ll help you. You’ll be okay.”

@mpxsana

The day so far at Taste of Ink was slow. Nobody really seemed in the mood to get tattoos, the day too blurred in Grayscale. The few who were out and about scurrying away in hopes of avoiding the gloomy afternoon.

 Then it happened, the moment Ivan had been dreading from the moment he caught a whiff of the telltale smell of rain waft through the window in his office. The heavens seemed to rip open, fat drops of water landing on the roof, tiny water explosions drenching whatever got in their way. Ivan didn't envy whatever person was on the receiving end of the wrath of whatever god most likely caused the sky to suddenly fall apart.

Walking towards the front of the store the God thanked his own forgetfulness, having fished out a wide navy blue umbrella from his office he stood out in front by the receptionists’ desk. He could treat the employees to some coffee or just stroll in the rain, maybe even both. 

@mpxsana

Zitao squinted as he looked from the recipe to the bowl, confusion painted on his features. He’d never baked anything before, he’d always had nannies and maids and cooks, but he’d watched his nanny bake him cookies long ago. He didn’t know if the batter was meant to be that frothy though. But who was he to know? It wasn’t like he was an expert baker.

“Uh...” He looked over at Sana, a small frown painted on his face as he did. “Does this look right to you? Should we...uh...taste it? Wait, no. That’s how you get salmonella, right?” 

The night is running on its last strips, twilight has already breached the dark and they’re well on their way to morning. There is a sense of calm and composure about this time, where most people are still asleep or inside and the streets are a quiet numbness of empty.

Sehun punches someone square in the teeth, not holding back and feeling a couple of them break beneath his knuckles. The next moment his foot collides with another guy’s crotch. He knows where to hit to make sure they’re out of the game and he doesn’t play fair, so it’s no surprise that despite the three-to-one odds, he still comes out the winner.

Straightening slowly, he lifts a hand to wipe at his mouth, then spits a bit of the blood out from biting on his own tongue when he got hit earlier. To be fair, it was their fault. They tried to probably rob him in this darker alleyway. The laugh’s on them, really, because A) he doesn’t have any money to rob and B) they’re the ones who are hurting the most now.

But the problem still remains that these three have seen his face and will probably report to the police now that they’ve lost the fight. And he honestly doesn’t want to get in trouble with the police, because he knows with a three-to-one witness idea, no one’s going to believe it that they started it. So he grunts to himself in displeasure, then steps closer and gives each of his three assailants a good kick against their heads. With a bit of luck, they won’t remember when they wake.

He turns on his heels then, to leave the alleyway, but comes face to face with another person watching. Instantly his mind starts working at insane speed. How long has she been standing there? Has she seen everything? If so, she can be his witness, but if not, she’ll just be another witness stating that he was the one to cause all the damage. Another grunt. Sometimes it’s really hard being a good fighter.