#thecs

harsh laughter bubbled in his throat, bursting from his lips before hades had a chance to bite his tongue. the noise was grating on the ears, foreign to him despite knowing it was his voice who conjured the sound. for a moment, he could only stare at his younger brother in surprise, disbelief scrawled across pale features for more reasons than one.

and then as quick as it had come undone, hades reconstructed his mask with efficiency. his expression became hard, eyes narrowed in disdain. he relaxed his shoulders, and regarded zeus with a harsh stare that could not have given the illusion of discomfort.

"the evidence speaks for itself, zeus. i try, and i try, and i cannot protect anyone." an exaggeration, of course, but when did gods ever deal in exacts? "you seek to comfort me, but the truth is, i always end up hurting those who matter and nothing can ever change--"

the hug came as a greater surprise than his laughter. hades stiffened, rigid as a board, dark eyes blown wide with shock. the mask was gone again, lost as his brain struggled to comprehend exactly what had happened, or why. when he could not come up with anything, hades shuddered in zeus' grasp. "what are you --" hades gasped out weakly, not knowing if he should shove zeus away or return the hug in kind. instead he remained stiff-armed and unmoving, breath coming quicker than he intended.

"i'm not-- this is--" hades floundered like a fish out of water, an unexpected wave of emotion striking him like a punch to the gut. how long had it been since someone had held him like this? why would zeus go out of his way to make him feel better? had he not heard what hades said? did he not realize that he was putting himself in the line of fire? all hades did was disappoint, all he did was hurt those who mattered most because he could not keep his emotions in check, and here zeus was, tempting the worst of them.

a lump formed in hades throat. "you shouldn't... zeus this isn't right. this isn't right, you cannot just say things like this. please, let me go."

But this woman... he doesn't think it's attraction he feels - rather, there's something otherworldly about her. It catches his attention, but more than that, he almost feels as if she isn't even human, like she's something beyond that entirely... the feeling only lasts a brief moment, but it's a bizarre sensation for him.

Then the moment passes, and he's just a kid looking at some random woman again. Still, now that they're looking at each other, he feels he should at least say something.

"Hey! Nice day, isn't it?" ...And then, after a moment. "You know, I've never seen you round here before. There's a lot of gangs in the area. You should be careful."

@thecs asked: 🫂 - from Erebus for Hypnos

Send 🫂 to just hug my muse. No reason. Hug them. | Accepting

Hypnos was a little confused for a second, one minute he was happily floating back towards his palace with a new quilt he had commissioned, and then everything was black. It was only a second later that he realised why, that his face was pressed against father and engulfed in his aura...or his robes. Hypnos couldn't tell, but he did begin to yawn - feeling safe and sleepy here.

@thecs || 𝐿𝐼𝒦𝐸𝒟 for a 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝑅𝒯𝐸𝑅

Never has it ceased to draw breath from his lungs in wonder: the beauteous sight of shimmering stars 'pon a clear night. No sounds save for the winds tousling parched grass and the canvas of tents, no smell save for nearby fires with semi-translucent smoke raising up towards the heavens. One could be fooled into thinking the edges of the battlefield to be somewhere far more serene - if only eyes were kept up and senses not keen enough to note the distant scent of death or the potent stench of healing salves riding upon the wind.

Though they stared, counting the seemingly endless speckles of stars upon the darkness above, eyes burned with a fatigue that could not easily be sated; but behind eyelids lay seared sights awaiting closure to leap forth, jarring one from attempts of rest.

'T was why he lingered outside so late into the night, tucked around the side of his quarters within the encampment where he'd leaned himself against a crate of supplies in order to seek solace in the wonder of the cosmos. In the very least he can project his dreams and wishes in silent prayer upward and know that they are in good keeping - where no other can listen or pry: little secrets, dainty whispers, in the stars keeping.

So long has his highness been perched outdoors, wondering, thinking, that the cold of the early hours has long crept into his bones and although he began to shiver, not yet did Dion wish to break his silent vigil 'pon the heavens. No - there was still time for a miracle yet, still could the war end by sunrise if a diety so demanded it of them. Wishes, he truly knew deep down, would never come to be, but it is where he chooses to find his comforts that eve - akin to a boy casting his hopes for the future, when he's grown, into the stars as wishes.

An exhaled sigh finally pulls his mind back to the present, the plumes of his breath seen dissipating upward telling of the chilling temperature and 't was such that finally spurred him to think of moving. Mayhap if he tried again, while so far beyond exhausted, he would be able to find sleep not riddled with nightmares or flashes of bloodshed. If only -

A short hum is pulled from his throat, however, at the rather gentle clink of armour stepping behind him, the stepping of boots through the dried grass a tell tale sign he was being approached and yet, just one last time for the eve, does he raise his honeyed gaze to the darkened skies and pray for a better morrow.

it was never rare for demeter to be alone at her own home - few even knew where her private home was , after all . but the silence around her was near suffocating . hermes had left not too long ago to bring kor- persephone back and demeter had decided on staying home instead of going with .

she adored her alone time but now it seems to be swallowing her . she never did enjoy waiting nor did she have patience for anything that wasn't harveting or gardening .

pacing back and forth , demeter couldn't place why she was always nervous during this time . they had done this countless of times - her daughter going between her husband and mother . it was nothing new and yet nearly every year , the nervous would take over .

she could feel it the moment herman and persephone stepped onto her private land . stomach in knots , she threw the front door open just has hermes was taking off again . giving him a small wave in thanks , she turned her gaze to her sweet daughter and resisted the urge to run to her .

holding out her arms , she smiled brightly at persephone .

Eivor pulled Randvi into the cave, though it didn't provide any warmth. "We're safe here," Eivor said, as she pulled her in and set her down near the back. They needed firewood and then Eivor had to treat their wounds. Why the gods thought it was fun to hit them with a snowstorm and a group of bandits and blinding conditions she didn't know. Either way, she prayed to Freyja to give both of them strength.

"There are no Valkyries here yet, Randvi, it is not your time, I swear," Eivor said as she pulled off her fur coat and wrapped it around her. "Hold pressure on that wound, I'm going to start a fire and then we'll stitch it up, just hold on my shield-maiden," Eivor pleaded, as she brushed her fingers against her cold cheeks. Eivor didn't care about the cold on her bare shoulders, as she went back into the snow, searching for some logs. She found quite a few and returned to the cave, shaking off the snow and putting them in a pike position before using some flint to spark a fire. It sizzled at first before roaring to life, biting at the wood as it came to life.

lax and lounged upon the sofa, a glass of red wine clutched loosely in his palm, ridiculously expensive button-up with the three topmost buttons undone to reveal a toned chest beneath the silk -- zeus was the epitome of luxury and the centerpiece of the room.

until she walked in, of course.

hera could not be rivalled by anyone in beauty, of that zeus was certain. zeus could observe her for days on end and never grow tired of her. three hundred years of honeymoon had not been enough for him, and zeus was certain nothing ever would be.

his gaze was hungry as he watched her, her hair falling just so, dress hugging all the right places. whatever perfume she wore reached his nose now, fragrant and tantalizing. she smirked at him as she moved about the room, putting away her things -- and all the while, zeus watched hungry, posed on the sofa like an art model.

he opened his mouth to speak, but it was hera who broke the silence first.

her words made zeus shudder in desire.

whether he was given the chance to devour her, or even the other way around, zeus would not be picky. even now, the thought of her poised in his lap, taking what belonged to her (and gods, did he belong to her) -- it made his mouth water.

the worst of the wounds had closed up. where flesh had once been raw and bloody, torn to shreds and filled with a poison that robbed one of coherent thought, there was now only skin covered in old scars. scars that looked ancient, like distant memories. the wounds were healed, but he still felt them like they were fresh. he ached with an imaginary pain that his body could not forget. the wounds were so far away, but why then did zeus still tremble like a solitary leaf in a hurricane?

typhoeus was dead. the torture he had endured at the hands of the monster was a thing of the past, and his scars had already begun to fade. and still, zeus could not forget.

he relived every moment in his mind -- the torture, typhoeus' gruesome face leering down at him, pain and cold and fear. waking in a cold sweat with every memory. he wandered the halls of olympus in a daze, a shell of his former self.

his family saw him upright and walking and celebrated that as a victory. he saw their faces and could only picture their backs as they ran, abandoning him on a field to torture and suffering.

how could he back to normal when he felt like a piece of him was missing?

he had tried to confront his wife -- to tell her what had been plaguing him, a desperate plea for help. what came out of his mouth was pained and accusatory and jumbled. you left me, he'd cried, tears burning in his eyes. you left me and it hurt. that was not what he had wanted to say, not what he meant at all, but it was all his mouth could form and his heart spoke louder than his mind.

i failed you. is that what you want me to say?

anguish burned inside zeus' chest, tears flooding down his cheeks in shameful rivulets. every ounce of pain he had felt in those weeks since his recovery came bubbling to the surface, choking on sobs he refused to let out.