#risky asks

The gods are angry.

Zeus lets the roll of thunder wash over him like the fineries he once wore, when the prayers were offered and temples were erected, and he feels the anger course through his veins the same it did then, when he was loved, when he was remembered. Anger is familiar to Zeus, as familiar as the women who come and go from his bed, and he relishes in the feeling, letting the coil tighten in his stomach, waiting for the perfect chance to strike at the mortals who forsake him.

Hera has always been angry, but she has long stepped away from Zeus and the poor girls she used to blame for his shortcomings. She is angry at the mortals - she is angry at those who would hurt their spouses, those who cheat, those who rape, those who hurt the same people they are sworn to protect. She swears to herself that she´ll protect them if their lovers won´t. She is alone, and she is trapped in her own anger, her own regret, but she´ll have their retribution, regardless of how she feels on the matter.

Poseidon weeps through his anger, the salty tears stinging his cheeks as he watches his oceans, his domain, his once great kingdom falling into ruin, with their industry and their pollution, and the pain they´re causing his creatures. He thinks it´s retribution, finally, for all the terrible things he´s done, and doesn´t know who to pray to, doesn´t know who to ask to smite him instead of letting the mortals ruin his oceans, so he weeps through his anger, mourning.

Demeter masks her anger with a smile, arms outstretched until her daughter returns home, her anger shards of ice piercing the mortals who would dare take her pain and say that Persephone and Hades are meant to be - she smiles through her anger and lets snowstorms and hail and all the terrible things rain down on them, and when Persephone smiles at her and embraces her mother after all these years, she lets a real, happy smile shine. But the anger will always, always return.

Athena scoffs, wondering where she went wrong with her children. She raises her fists and signs and her voice - oh, how her voice has declined so. She misses the great celestial booming her voice once held, and she wonders how mortal women do this every single day, people talking over her, muting her, taking her pain and telling her how to feel about it. Athena scoffs in their faces and does her best to raise her voice to the high heavens, to take her rightful place once more.

Ares is tired of war. His anger and his rage has only devolved into a tired mass of a once great god, who took the champions and the successors, and built armies from nothing. Now, his anger festers, locked away until war rages again, because his anger is only thing he feels anymore, if anything.

Apollo is angry at the people who don´t give the people the healing they need, the light that´s so available, so accessible, and refuse them. He is angry at the injustice of it all, angry at the lies told, blatant and secretive alike, and wonders when the world devolved into Sin such as this. He wonders why people are denied and rejected for trivial things, and knows that his anger will carry him through. It always has.

Artemis is never alone, her following of women - survivors, victims, women who want to live free - and their stories fuel her rage. She gives them safe harbor and helps them succeed and survive in an impossibly cruel world, and she gives them kindness and a tight-lipped smile, her rage driving her forward always. She is angry, and she wouldn´t have it any other way.

Hermes is sick of the messages he carries, his feet lifting him through the streets of Tokyo and New York City and all the places mortals want to go, and he finds nothing but pain and corruption, even in the hopeful moments. He is angry at the little screens, angry at the people who don´t look at one another. He finds joy in the arms of a mortal man, but even he leaves him, a flicker of light in the timeline of Hermes’ life. He is angry at immortality, of taking things for granted.

Aphrodite is angry at expectation. Her women, her men, her children are forced into the singular kind of beauty, angry at the idea that her women have to wear makeup and inhibit themselves, angry that her men can´t cry, angry that her children are suffering so to make themselves what everyone else wants. Aphrodite is angry at the idea of people making others be someone they don´t want to be.

Dionysus feeds his anger in seedy bars and lively clubs, looking for answers in the bottom of a bottle, uncaring of parties or liveliness any longer, and just hopes to forget everything. Every sip, every emptied cup only leads to more anger, but it´s been so long, and it´s all Dionysus knows, so he keeps looking for his answers.

Hades is angry at his brothers, his rage turning into an age-old grudge that only turns into a sickening grin, because everyone - everyone - still believes in death, and his anger is the last thing on his mind when he sees Persephone.