#panhellenios

    ❛     you always have to take the glory for yourself.   that was MY fight.     ❜

       She came from a land without gods. 

      --Specifically, there were no French pagan gods; by Ninny’s time, it had been so throughly a Christianized nation that even her kind, les dames blanches and les lutins, they had no names of ancients to pray to. It had been a bit of a surprise upon being scooped up by the selkie Too-Ticky that there were other gods than the Catholic one to pray to. Too-Ticky, who dutifully prayed to the Irish pantheon, had gently encouraged her to learn about those who ruled over mythological creatures such as themselves, and Moominpapa had graciously given her a children’s book on Norse and Greek gods. 

       But Ninny struggled to pick who she was supposed to pray to. Aphrodite, perhaps, to deal with her confused crush on Too-Ticky? Queen Hera, to wish her foster mother would adopt her? That both meant she had to face actual things that caused her anxiety, and Ninny didn’t want that. Not right now, at least. 

       There was a god of travelers, she knew, and Ninny was a foreigner in a new land. That was something that she’d like sorted out. The trickster, wasn’t he? Hermes was the prankster of the gods, and mischievous Ninny certainly aligned with that. It couldn’t hurt to pray to him, unless he was the malicious sort of trouble-maker. Ninny hoped not.

       The pisky-girl lit the tiny candle Moominmama had given her, kneeling down in the dirt, her hands awkwardly clamped together like a Christian. Was there protocol for this? How were you supposed to pray to a Greek god? What if he couldn’t understand her French accent? What if he didn’t speak Swedish or French? What if--

   If this was Clymene before the titans’ loss, she would have walked right into Tartarus with no fear of her possibly trespassing. Her only concerns were Iapetus and Menoetius and their well-being; however, she had to think rationally without her heart making her decisions for her first. She had to be cautious. Being a titan made her an easy target to be made an example of if she made any mistakes. Epimetheus and Prometheus were prime examples of the wrath of the gods when titans decided to do whatever they pleased. 

  Despite her carefree and rebellious nature, she had to follow some rules. Even though she wished to see her husband and son, she didn’t want to join them in their prison.  

bless u, Bless U, BLESS U

<3333 thank u

      “Hermes!”

       Most gods had a flair for the theatrics and enjoyed grand entrances. Iris was not quite the same-- her bizarre ways of entering usually were accidents. The rainbow goddess blasted into the throne room via the window, hitting the ground at an angle and thus sliding across the floor. With a confused yelp, she did a lopsided somersault before finally making it to Hermes.

       “Hermes,” Iris wheezed as she clambered to her feet, almost slipping again on the Heelys she usually wore. “I have-- god, gimme a minute. I need-- Fuck. Man, you’d think I’d have better lungs what with ‘em bein’ divine organs, but that shit’s garbage. Man. Alright, I think I’m good.” She took a deep breath and started over on take 3.