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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Nov 27, 2021 17:45:26 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Lucien sat with his back to a white wall. Everything was so white here, it messed with his head. His brain had nothing to focus on, the world seeming to lack colour and texture.
There was one crack on the wall that heβd noticed some days ago. A thin black fissure like lightning. It was the only real break from the sameness in that room, and sometimes when he felt like he was losing his mind heβd look at it. He couldnβt get lost in this place; he had people to protect.
His clothes, unlike the room, werenβt white. They were, however, grey, which was barely better. None of his usual leather jackets with the pins or hoodies or band t-shirts. Just grey, as if he needed another reminder that he had no identity here. Here, he was a number and he was his powers. Nothing else was relevant.
The teenager reached his hand to the spot where his lyre pin had once lain. That had been taken from him too, unsurprisingly. His only physical reminder of his guide. And the god didnβt really say much to him these days either. They werenβt any less friendly, but Apollo had stopped knowing what to say some time ago. At first heβd offered words of encouragement, attempting to lift the boy up when he was suffering. But eventually Apolloβs words must have started to sound like lies even to him, because the god tried to encourage Lucien less frequently now. Instead Apollo just seemed to exist in a sad silence, pained at his inability to help his champion.
The only times Apollo always tried to offer encouraging words was when Lucien came back from a round of experimentation. They were always when he was suffering most and was the most vulnerable. These experiments always involved testing Lucienβs healing powers. Sometimes under varying levels of sedation, sometimes different kinds of pain or injury. Sometimes with various other conditions or stimuli. Theyβd done pretty much everything he could think of to do with it; attached electrodes to his head to see his brain activity when he used his powers, taken bloods, timed how long it took him to heal. He was amazed they ever found new things to test, but luckily for him they continued to surprise him.
He hated his powers now. Had come to fear that feeling of warm golden light that always accompanied the healing. Heβd done everything; screamed, begged, gotten angry. Nothing got anywhere and it mostly ended in sedation.
The boy closed his eyes, stinging with exhaustion, and swallowed as he leaned his head back to touch the wall, dull blond locks against the white.
He was the only leader there. He couldnβt rely on Cleo to tell him what to do. He couldnβt rely on Riverβs strength, Ireneβs bravery, Naidaβs toughness, Dillonβs kindness or Lukaβs brains. Heβd never been the only leader before, and the thought terrified him that he had to somehow handle this by himself, but he had to somehow do it. The others needed him.
His sister needed him. Sheβd always been the one to look after him when they were younger, sheβd been the one forced into being an adult too early. The least he could do is be her rock this one time.
He and Elara didnβt often show one another that they cared, even when they werenβt fighting. But he knew she did. He remembered one time when he was thirteen and she was sixteen, heβd come back from school with a good school report. Heβd never really gotten one of those, and heβd been so proud of it. Their mother had been going through a terrible time then and she hadnβt been able to muster an attempt to care - or to show she cared. But the next day Lucien saw that report up on the fridge, and he never said anything but he knew Elara had done it.
Lucien cared about his sister but had so far generally done a shitty job of showing it, because it had taken him a long time to truly realise everything his sister had done for him. All the attempts to shield and protect him. And he hated the thought that he might not get to show her that he knew, that he appreciated her, that he cared about her too despite everything.
So at first heβd simply refused to let it happen. Heβd told himself heβd keep them all alive, heβs get them all out. Heβd do his job as a leader and as a brother. At first heβd yelled and screamed and fought and theyβd needed to sedate him every time. Heβd promised his sister and his friends that theyβd keep searching for a way out. That he wasnβt going to let this happen.
But as time went by, he could feel the fight leaving him. Day by day, slowly leeched out of him by white walls and silence and pain. He didnβt struggle anymore, he was too broken and too exhausted. It was becoming harder and harder to try and think about trying to escape, or to try and convince the others that he was in control. His sister knew him better than that, and there was only so long before sheβd realise that he was retreating, losing himself.
Now when they came for him he didnβt move. Theyβd pull him to his feet and he wouldnβt try to twist free of their grips. He didnβt waste words on them; now he only spoke to his friends and Eidolon. Of course, he hated the latter, but in some ways that was helping his sanity.
Still, he felt weak now. Like he couldnβt go on. Maybe if it were any of the other leaders they could have managed better. River would have done better for sure, or Irene or Naida. Cleo would have found a way out of there long before, Luka too.
He let out an exhale.
βApollo,β Lucien murmured softly, though it still sounded too loud in that room βplease, Iβm trying, but I donβt know if I can last another day.β
It felt like a breaking point was coming, and all he could hope was that it was the hunters breaking, not them.
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Post by πππππ π¨ on Nov 28, 2021 0:13:32 GMT -5
"I don't look that bad," Luka snorted at Lucien's comment about the celebrity at the met gala. Luka did have to admit it looked a little like a secret agent in an action movie costume. Except that it wasn't skin tight and it didn't look like she was about to save the world. She looked more like a teenager in a stealthy outfit about to steal candy on Halloween.
At the lack of Clementine, Luka shrugged, "Yeah, I thought they were allergic to the idea of lateness," not that Luka could say much, given that she showed up late to various meetings, and there may have been a few she slept through, "Sad for me, I've gotta deal with you."
She didn't mind at all, in all honesty, she'd prefer Lucien over any other leader.
At the switch to the more serious topic, Luka fiddled with the strap of a bag she had with her, looking away from Lucien to stare at the dark fabric. She didn't particularly enjoy his concern, but she understood it. It was new, having someone so worried about how she actually was. She was used to people expecting her to do things wrong, and she had grown used to being told that others were the important ones.
Never her. Never them.
She looked back at Lucien, rubbing her fingers over the somewhat soft material of the strap, feeling the stitching under her fingers. Stitches held in place, only undone by strong cuts and tears. There were frayed ends where the stitching was cut, worn from use. Would that be them?
Cut and torn? Locked in place? Frayed under the tension.
"I'll get out, don't worry about it," that's what she wanted to say, to assure his worries. Show him it would be alright.
She didn't want to lie to him. She had to do whatever she had to do to protect the others. Luka was playful, she was rude, sometimes arrogant, but she didn't think of herself as selfish. A bit selfish, perhaps, she had always had to prioritize herself. But now that she had people that she was expected to protect? That she loved? How could she leave them, again? She wasn't there when they needed her.
She couldn't fail them again. She couldn't fail Laurie. He deserved much more than a friend who teased him mercilessly and ignored him when he needed her most. All because she didn't want to get involved, all because she'd rather stand to the side than stand by him.
"You'd think I'd listen even if Cleo told me too?" Luka said instead, flashing a smile towards him, "Since when have I listened to them as it is?"
The door opened, and in came the tired looking Clementine Lester, who had bags under their eyes, looking between the two kids and quickly raising their hands before either could say anything, "don't even start. I woke up late."
Luka raised her hands in reply too, backing away, "you have no faith in me, Lester, what makes you think I'd say anything about your inexcusable lateness?" She had a raised eyebrow too.
Cleo sighed out, pinching the bridge of their nose as they went to take a seat close to Lucien.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Nov 28, 2021 5:32:47 GMT -5
Lucien smirked when she said it wasnβt that bad.
βSure, itβs not that bad if youβre a Scooby Doo villain.β Lucien joked
He smiled at her joke about having to deal with him. The two of them understood one another far better than any of the other leaders did. Lucien also got on with River but they didnβt always see eye-to-eye, and it had taken a while for them to get along. He and Luka had instantly understood one another.
Teasing largely over, he chuckled when Luka questioned when sheβd ever listened to Cleo. Luka had a point there; neither of them had ever really listened to Cleo. Not until the stakes were raised and lives were in danger.
βNever, but donβt pick now to start,β the boy answered
Just after heβd said that, the door opened to admit an exhausted-looking Cleo. The stress has been getting to them too, clearly, and that was something Lucien hadnβt considered before. Heβd always thought of Cleo as being so stable and in-control, and sometimes he did forget that they were scared just like them, that they were stressed and tired just like them.
He smiled at Lukaβs joke, and gave Cleo a nod of greeting as they sat beside him. Now they had everyone together, they needed to get to business.
βThe infirmary is set up. I want to be here monitoring everything with you, but if anything happens I can get to the infirmary in thirty seconds tops.β Lucien stated to Cleo, his voice firm and leaving no room for negotiation. He wanted to make it clear to them that he didnβt intend to sit around and wait in the infirmary just in case. He wanted to watch with Cleo and make sure his friends were okay.
Heβd even brought his boy and arrows with him just in case of either a breach of the pantheon or an emergency on the mission. He wasnβt repeating his previous mistakes. The weapons lay at the ready, propped against the wall behind his seat.
Next he looked to Luka, raising an eyebrow.
βAnd Luka, I say this as your friend - subtlety isnβt your strong suit. I know itβs tempting to burn the exiledβs shit to the ground but for the love of god please refrain. Donβt get carried awayβ
He did trust her, he had faith in his friend, but he didnβt want her to put herself at risk any more than she already was by going further than she needed to on this mission. His words were a warning; he was telling her he knew she wanted their friends back, he wanted that as much as she did, but them getting back safe was more important. They could keep trying to get the others back, they didnβt have to succeed this time. But if they lost her or any of her group, they couldnβt undo that.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Dec 10, 2021 18:34:33 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Shortly after his return from the exiled, Laurie sat near the window of his room. His eyes had strayed out to the night sky, becoming transfixed. Moonlight shone out from the darkness, but it was the blanket of twinkling lights and stars that caught his attention.
He remembered clearly that conversation with River by the lake, looking up at the night sky just like he was doing now. He could still smell the chill in the night air, and the soft scents of the forest and the distant campfire.
Heβd noticed River ever since heβd first laid eyes on him - angry, confused and covered in blood. River had first made his heart stop when he kissed him that night theyβd played truth or dare.
But heβd first realised that he was falling in love with River beneath those stars that night. The starry sky had been reflected in the waters of the lake and it all seemed to go on forever. Like they were surrounded by stars in every direction. And theyβd talked, talked about things that mattered to them. Confided secrets into the quiet that they might not otherwise have done anywhere else.
Now Laurie realised just how much that night had meant to River, too. Heβd shared parts of him he didnβt share with others. Laurie was not the most private person, he was trusting and wore his heart on his sleeve, and it hadnβt fully occurred to him at first just how big a deal sharing the things heβd shared might have been to River. In hindsight, Laurie couldnβt believe heβd ever had any doubt that River had loved him.
And River had put so much trust in him, and Laurie didnβt think he could have done more to break that trust.
That night, River had told him about what heβd gone through before heβd come to the Pantheon. And Laurie could only imagine how his betrayal must have reminded River that he couldnβt trust people, that the people he cared about the most and the people who were supposed to care about him would let him down. That trust and love were repaid with hurt.
Of course he knew that what Ripley had done was Ripleyβs fault alone. Heβd taken advantage of the fact that Laurie was vulnerable and genuinely didnβt think he deserved better. But there were parts Laurie had to take responsibility for. Things heβd done that he couldnβt undo.
Ever since his return heβd been trying to make it up to the others but especially River, to in some way atone or apologise for what he had done. But now he was realising that perhaps it was better not to.
He had to question whether he was a person River needed in his life.
Was he just going to cause River more pain? Did River not deserve better than him? River would never have done to him what he had done to River. He was a good, kind person whom Laurie had hurt deeply. Did River not deserve someone he could wholly trust? Did he not deserve to never have to wonder if he was going to be hurt or betrayed again?
Could Laurie really be the person River deserved?
There was no doubt he loved everything about him. His smile, his laugh, every little freckle on his skin. But mostly his heart. Because he would do anything for the people he loved, and it scared Laurie a little sometimes. Because he didnβt know what to do with that much selflessness. His worst fear was that he wasnβt good enough to deserve it or that River would get hurt on his behalf.
River had been his rock when theyβd been together, and Laurie knew that River needed a rock too. After all, River looked out for everyone but who looked out for him? When Laurie was trying to figure himself out, forgive himself and put the pieces Ripley had broken back together again so he could begin to heal, he wondered if he would ever be in a place where he could be that for River. If he could be what he deserved, and needed.
To Laurie, River was the most incredible person heβd met. The most important person in the world. He needed someone who could make him realise that he was the sun. Someone who would look at him like he should be looked at, cared about like he should be cared about. River had spent all his life fighting, he needed to be with someone who could be home to him.
And if Laurie wasnβt a hundred percent certain that person could be him, why cause more pain by continuing to try to fix things?
River deserved to be happy, and Laurie was trying to help himself realise that he deserved it too. And maybe heβd destroyed things too completely and the thing that would make them both happy would be distance.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Dec 17, 2021 18:10:08 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Lucien looked at his hands, taking in the silvery, spidery scar tissue from when Styx had stuck those arrows through them. At the time that had been the worst pain heβd ever experienced, the most terrifying thing to happen to him.
Now he wishes he could go back to a moment where that was his most traumatic experience as an Ascendant.
He sat in the huntersβ facility, where theyβd been holding him and some of the others, including his sister. Theyβd been doing experiments, claiming that if they could isolate how Lucienβs abilities worked, they could help millions of people around the world. Sick people. Lucien didnβt know what they were doing to his sister and his friends, but he knew it would be similar.
He was exhausted. Tired of having to endure the pain, tired of having to keep it together. Tired of trying to think of ways to get them out and feeling like a failure when every day he felt no closer to getting them to freedom.
As he ran a thumb over one of the scars, Apolloβs voice echoed inside his head.
βBeing a god involves a lot more feeling helpless than youβd think.β
It had so far been rare for him to speak to Lucien since his capture by the hunters. Not because he was mad at him or anything, more because he didnβt seem to know what to say. Lucien understood that; hed never been very good at finding the right words himself.
βIs that so?β Lucien questioned, tone flat. He couldnβt bring himself to care about any of this anymore. Every day that passed there was another day the people he cared about were suffering and that was all he cared about. Heβd lost hope by this point.
βWhat the Fates plan is bigger than gods or mortals. Much like you, gods are subject to prophecies and predictions. We are mere forces intended to act out their designs, regardless of how powerful we are. Even Zeus fears them.β
Lucien had never thought of it like that. The godsβ powers dwarfed that of mortals, but that meant little when they were no less subject to fate. The Norse gods were beholden to fate to; Lucien remembered Luka teaching him about Ragnarok, how the Norse godsβ fates were already planned out before them and could not be avoided. That must make the gods feel as helpless as he himself felt in that moment, of not more so. The irony of greatly powerful beings being aware that their powers were only meaningful if fate was on their side was not lost on him. It must make it all the more painful when they knew they could not help despite their abilities.
Still, Apolloβs words held little comfort for Lucien in the situation in which he currently found himself.
βSo what youβre saying is that itβs just my fate to be here and thereβs nothing I can do about that? I should just roll over and accept it?β Lucien asked bitterly.
βWhat Iβm trying to say is that you shouldnβt fear where you are at this moment. Fate has written every moment of both our existences. It made me choose you, it brought you here. You were meant to be my champion, born for it, burdensome though it is.β
Lucien felt a rush of anger at that.
βItβs not fair. I donβt want it, I donβt want any of it, I never did.β he protested
Apollo chuckled at that.
βYouβve made that more that clear. Listen, I canβt get you out of here but if Iβm right, freedom will come to you when the time is right. I know you, Lucien. The Fates donβt waste spirit like yours.β
Lucien hoped that were true. But a part of him doubted. The Fates and the gods did cruel things, heβd seen them first hand in the suffering of those he cared for. In his own suffering. And when he was feeling so broken, his faith so shattered, he couldnβt see how he could be meant for anything more.
How could the Fates have decided he deserved some big destiny while theyβd planned death for Lane? When theyβd broken so many of his friends?
Apolloβs words of comfort rang a little hollow.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Dec 26, 2021 8:32:30 GMT -5
HUNGER GAMES SNIPPET Lucien's relationship with his mentor was not exactly great. Not terrible, but not incredible.
Said mentor sat across from him in a chair. Gwen Anker was young, a victor from only a few years back. She didn't look like much in person and up-close like this. She wasn't older than twenty, he was pretty sure; she'd won at age sixteen only a few years back. Her youth was more evident here than it had been even during her Games. She was only around average height for a girl and actually kind of daintily-featured, with a small nose. Rich brown hair that fell in soft curls, lightly freckled skin, a small pointed chin with a little cleft. Pretty, for sure, and doubtless that had helped her get sponsors during her Games.
He remembered watching her in the Games; she'd volunteered the year before his very first Games. Or was it the year before that? It didn't matter. He could very clearly remember her parade and her interviews. In her interview, she'd worn a blousy top and black trousers underneath a corset with subtle wave designs on it and decorated with pearls, a reference to District 4. Her makeup had been shimmery but subtle aside from the heavy liner around her eyes, and along her cheekbones had been iridescent flakes like fish scales. She'd looked quite spectacular, all the more so because of the dark hair arranged in cascading waves. Most noticeable about her outfit, though, were three things; the hairpins that seemed to look like tentacles, the silver necklace with an octopus and a larimar gemstone, and the silver drop earrings with what Gwen later confirmed to be barracuda teeth. She'd seemed pretty, feminine, but also intimidating.
She didn't look like much out of all that get-up, but he could also see in her what had helped her win her Games. The lean muscle beneath her skin, for one thing. Her eyes, for the other. They were hazel, but very sharp. In the time he'd spent with her since he'd been reaped for the Games, he'd more than once felt her gaze to be piercing. Those hazel eyes darkened with her mood, much like the ocean in a storm. He could also see the intelligence behind them.
The intelligence that just a few years before had led Gwen Anker to orchestrate an elaborate plan to take down the rest of the career pack without them suspecting a thing. It had never taken much; none of the Careers ever really trusted one another. Stealing things (especially food, it was always about food) from one Career's pack and planting it in someone else's. Remembering which Careers had taken the training on poisonous plants and leaving obviously poisonous mushrooms in their vicinity. Sowing dissension quietly and subtly. In the end the arguments that broke out allowed a few of the other careers to take care of themselves for her, and the rest didn't notice Gwen making preparations to make her move.
Lucien still remembered the moment when Gwen had woken her own district partner in the middle of the night, shushed him so gently when he stirred in sleepy confusion, and then plunged a knife into his throat. He'd been the last of the Career pack that Gwen had killed that night; she hadn't woken the others, just done it in their sleep. He didn't know what kind of sick, twisted reasons Gwen had had for wanting to look in her district partner's eyes when she killed him, but he could make a reasonable guess.
She wanted him to see that he'd lost. She wanted him to know that he'd waited too long to make his move and that she was going to kill him. And she wanted him to know it was going to be her to do it.
Killing her own district partner had lost her sponsors, but Gwen didn't need them from that point. She struck out on her own with her dead allies' supplies and picked off the remaining tributes with little problem.
Lucien hated her for a lot of reasons; she was sick, cruel, and merciless. More than that, after her victory she'd become a Capitol darling, and he absolutely abhorred Capitol lapdogs despite being from a Career district himself. But he admired her intelligence and her efficiency. She had undeniably been a very effective tribute, sneaky but unafraid to use brute force if she need it. She didn't much like him, though, because he ran his mouth about the Capitol and gave too few shits about what anybody else thought of him. Or at least that was what she seemed to think; in fact, he didn't care about what the Capitol thought of him but generally cared too much about what everybody else thought.
Because of their differences, Gwen had largely not bothered much with Lucien, which suited him just fine. He knew how to get on with training by himself. But interviews were the next big thing coming up, and Lucien understood why Gwen had chosen to ask to meet with him privately and go over interview strategies. He could be a little...abrasive.
"You need to get this right, Fairfax." Gwen began in that sharp voice of hers; she had a habit of speaking like her words were throwing knives "Your score's shameful because you ran your mouth, as usual. You cannot afford to mess this one up and lose sponsors."
An 8, that was his score. It wouldn't be bad for most fourteen-year-olds in the Games, but for a Career it was bad. Hell, even that nerdy blonde from District 3 had done better. District freaking 3 and she'd come away with a 10. Embarrassing, really, that he hadn't even done better than her.
When Lucien didn't reply, Gwen seemed a little annoyed by his apparent disinterest in her attempt to make sure he didn't blow his last chance to give him a leg up on getting out of the Games alive. Still, she smoothly forged ahead.
"What's your angle going to be?" Gwen asked "you need a persona for these interviews. I can safely assume you're not going flirty, sympathetic or shy, the cute-kid ship has sailed, and I don't think likeable or friendly are within your capabilities."
In Gwen's own interview, she'd played a more intimidating card. Hadn't said a lot, but what she had said had been intelligent and articulate. She'd been elegant in a cool and distant sort of way. In fact, she'd reminded Lucien rather a lot of the ocean; calm and beautiful but holding a sort of power that demanded to be respected. Gwen hadn't been bubbly and extroverted, but she'd been captivating and magnetic in a very different sort of way.
"I don't see why I can't just go in there and tell them exactly how idiotic I find this whole thing. I'm not spending my last night before I go into that Arena talking about meaningless, inane shit with Catullus Acton or pretending I like the Capitol. I'm fourteen, I won't win anyway." Lucien answered, folding his arms stubbornly.
He hated the Capitol. He wanted to make sure they knew that every second somebody was suffering in that Arena, that was on them. He wanted them to know that the blood of the tributes who had been injured in that shooting on the parade was on their hands and that if they really thought that what had happened the night of the parade wasn't okay but what was about to happen in the Games was perfectly acceptable, they were disgusting.
Gwen was not amused by this, those hazel eyes darkening to foretell her anger.
"Because after the shooting at the parade, the Capitol smells rebellion. If you're seen to incite anger against the Capitol and the Games, it will cost my life, the rest of the team's life, and the lives of everyone you care about." Gwen replied, and her voice was low and serious but frank in its tone. No lies, no bullshitting, just the plain blunt truth.
Lucien felt his heart in his throat as Gwen continued.
"They'll wait until you get into that Arena, they'll kill somebody that you care about, and they'll make sure you know what they did. Then they'll find a way to get rid of you. Something so you know what's coming, but you can't outrun it. And I promise you, it'll be slow, bloody and painful." Gwen threatened.
She was right, and though her words were terrifying he knew she was looking out for him. He had his mother and sister at home; as much as they didn't get on, he couldn't let them die because of him. Lucien had seen this kind of thing happen before. A tribute would say the wrong thing and the Gamemakers would wait until there hadn't been a death in a while and the Capitol were screaming for blood, and then give them something spectacular. Two birds with one stone; a Capitol threat gone, a Capitol audience sated for a day or two.
The boy swallowed but did not respond, and after a moment of silence Gwen cleared her throat, returning to their original subject. Lucien's interview strategy.
"It's a long shot because you're young but I suggest you go down the intimidating route. Don't outright insult the Capitol, that's a good way to lose sponsors and get killed, but show detachment from the Capitol. Don't interact with the audience. Show your personality, your disdain for the interview and the questions. But not the Capitol, never the Capitol. And not the Games. You don't hate, you just don't care. This is below you. That's your angle, do you understand? And for God's sake, don't say too much."
Lucien nodded, but his promise proved to be hollow. Oh, he did very good at letting his sarcasm, disdain and detachment get across. But he'd been unable to reign in his hotheaded nature. How else was he supposed to respond when asked about what he thought of the shooting other than to say his piece about the Capitol's hypocrisy on the matter? Calling the Hunger Games a 'stupid murder pageant' also hadn't been his best moment.
Once he'd gotten off the stage, Gwen had smacked him upside the head but promptly got the team working on damage control.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Dec 28, 2021 10:03:41 GMT -5
HUNGER GAMES SNIPPET: 90th Games (Topic warning: blood, death) "Citizens of Panem, it is my pleasure to present your victor for the 90th Annual Hunger Games!"
Burton let out a shaky breath, the blade in his hand falling with a ringing clatter to the stony ground of the abandoned city. He stepped back from the thick, dark blood which stained the ground, unable to look at the unmoving body in front of him.
"I give you, from District 8, Burton Acton!" the announcer's voice continued, as if oblivious to the death that had just occurred. Well, more like he didn't care. Perses Silverway had a job to do just like anyone else, and the Games always ended in death. He just wasn't the one, unlike Burton, who had to stare what had just happened in the face.
It shouldn't have been him to survive. The boy who lay in front of him, Everest Stonewell, would have been the better bet a million times over. That announcer should have been presenting the victor from District 2. But Everest had been a shell of himself by the end.
After the death of Amadrya Darrow, the girl he'd come to fall for, at his own hands, Everest had been wracked with guilt. The body that lay on the ground was barely recognisable as the boy who had entered that Arena. He'd looked exhausted, starved, when he had crossed paths with Burton. No spark, no life behind his eyes, as if he were already dead. Everest had not sought Burton out like a career tribute would normally do this close to the victory, had not hunted him down. No, in the end, the Capitol had needed to almost force them together.
Everest had begged Burton to end it. He hadn't wanted to, he hadn't wanted to kill anyone. But Everest refused to fight and the Capitol would need their victor. Infection had been setting in on one of Burton's wounds; if the two didn't fight Burton would be the one to die before Everest. Everest knew that, but he still did not want the victory.
And the thing was, Burton did. He had people he wanted to go home to. He had his sisters and his parents and he would not, could not, let them watch him die. He could not let Holly's sacrifice to save his life be rendered worthless. Not to mention that Everest did not want to win; he couldn't shake the guilt of what he had done, and he would not fight for his life the way Burton was prepared to fight for his.
Those were the things Burton told himself to make him feel better about what he'd done. At least he'd done it quickly, and as cleanly as he was able to. It wouldn't have been that way it had been Macaria in Burton's place. But that still didn't make him feel better about the red staining his hands, and the eighteen-year-old boy that lay in front of him.
Who had he been to judge that it was right to kill Everest, despite the young man's begging that Burton bring an end to the whole horrid nightmare? Everest had felt horribly guilty then, destroyed by his murder of his own love, but he would have been okay eventually. As okay as a victor of the Hunger Games could be, anyway. The pain of what had happened with Amadrya would have eventually faded.
Still, in the Hunger Games there was no room for hesitation. There could be no doubt, because in doubt lay death. Burton had been backed into a corner by a Capitol who expected a victor and a fellow tribute who refused to fight, and he'd been forced to make his move. A move to save his own life, a move to stop his sisters from having to bury their brother. A move to honour Holly's memory and her sacrifice for him.
"Mark my words, Burton, District 8 will win these games." Holly had said to him once, when they were on the train to the Capitol. At the time he hadn't really thought about what that meant. All along she'd been prepared to sacrifice herself for him, even when she'd only known him for about five minutes. She'd made good on her end of that promise, giving him a shot at victory, and he'd made good on his end by finishing that journey alone.
His knees buckled and he fell to his knees, filled with a sudden sense of relief. He had survived, though with guilt he would never be able to run from. The boy was suddenly aware he was shaking, almost in disbelief that it really was finally over. The boy, covered in blood and dirt and hair thickened with dust as he knelt amongst the rubble, took his final breaths of that heavy, still Arena air.
Only to look up as he heard the familiar sound of an approaching hovercraft.
_______
Only a few hours later Burton was already almost without trace that he'd ever been in the Arena, thanks to the wonders of Capitol medicine and stylists. They'd offered to remove all of his scars, and Burton had accepted. All apart from one.
He'd never forget the look on the President's face when they stood face to face while he placed the crown on Burton's head that celebrated his victory in the Arena. President Louden's eyes had drifted to the scar on Burton's cheek, and one eyebrow had slightly raised. The President's back was to the camera and thus he did not have to monitor his expression for the cameras in any way. Burton, who stood opposite him facing the camera, did not have that luxury.
"Interesting," Louden had murmured quietly "I did not imagine you to be the kind of victor who enjoys keeping trophies."
It was unsurprising that he thought it was some kind of trophy, a signal of Burton's victory. A mark of a tribute who was now dead. He supposed Louden was used to dealing with careers as victors, and those were certainly the kind who might keep injuries from the Arena as some kind of sick souvenir.
Burton had kept his expression even for the cameras, but met Louden's gaze.
"I want them to see." he'd said evenly. He wanted the Capitol to see what the Games had done for him, no matter how much they wanted to erase it. He wanted them to see what they'd done, be reminded of the children that had died for their entertainment.
And it was in that moment that Burton saw something flicker in Louden's expression, something harden in his eyes. He'd seen what Burton had said as a threat. A threat much more subtle and nefarious than the kind of threats Holly would have made; she was sparky, fiery. This threat was the threat of a Capitolite, not a District 8 boy. This was the threat of somebody who knew how to use the system the Games was built upon.
He had turned his victory into a weapon.
Burton's heart, however, had thudded in his chest. He knew the risk he'd taken, he knew what he had done. He would pay for it, even if it wasn't now. Even if it was ten, twenty, or thirty years time. He feared it, but lately he'd done an awful lot of things of which he had been afraid. It meant little to him anymore.
And as he prepared for his post-Games interview, the words of his mentor still rung in his head.
"You never leave that Arena. This is it, this is the rest of your life now. If you're lucky they'll get bored of you eventually but you will never, never get out of that shadow. So you'd better learn who they want you to be fast."
He could do that, he would do that. He did still, after all, have people to protect. But he needed Louden to know that he had not succeeded in destroying Holly's message. In her interview she had said she wanted to be heard; she wasn't there to speak anymore, but Burton would make damn sure Louden had heard her.
Nobody won the Hunger Games, not even the victors. But Holly had promised a victory, and he would get it for her. If there was a way to win, he wanted to be the first to find it.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Dec 29, 2021 19:52:18 GMT -5
Ever since his arrival in the exiled base, every time Laurie and Dionysus conversed it seemed to cause an argument that always ended in tense silence. They spoke less and less and when they did Laurie could feel his guideβs presence less, like he was drawing away.
And yet it didnβt stop him from feeling the awful and self-destructive urge to keep pushing Dionysus away.
βPlease just tell me,β Laurie said lowly, shakily, as he stared at the wall opposite him βtell me why you did this to me.β
Dionysus did not respond immediately; heβd heard this question or ones similar to it from his chosen so many times that theyβd both lost count, and it appeared he was getting somewhat irritated by the mistrust.
βI told you,β Dionysus responded slowly and with a note of irritation βI needed a representative on earth, and I knew I could trust you with this power.β
Laurie gave a bitter laugh at that. He didnβt believe it for a second. For starters, Dionysus had grown up on the earth, born to a mortal woman. Surely if there were any of the Greek gods who should have been comfortable with being on earth it would have been him. Secondly, there was no way heβd been able to βsee something specialβ in Laurie or whatever crap he wanted to spout based on a five second interaction that involved puking.
βDonβt patronise me. The least you could do is treat me like you respect me.β Laurie responded, tone heating up now. He was so irritated by the way Dionysus danced around things. Sure, Laurie was a hedonist and would choose happiness for himself even to the point of rejecting reality. And if he felt like he could keep the wool over his eyes and stay blissfully unaware he would do it. But that didnβt seem to be an option anymore. Even he had a line where he couldnβt run away from things anymore.
βI donβt know what you want from me-β Dionysus began, voice a little uncertain, hesitant.
Laurie felt a rush of anger, and promptly interrupted the god.
βI want the truth!β Laurie yelled out, voice sudden and loud and cutting in the quiet of the room, stunning Dionysus into a silence βIβm sick of all the lies. Thereβs so much noise and everyone is telling me a thousand different things and I donβt know who to trust because everybody tells me what to believe but doesnβt actually tell me anything else!β
Heβd thought he was right about River, but he wasnβt. And now the exiled heβd been told were so bad were being kind, and suddenly the gods he was supposed to be fighting for had the blood of young people just like him on their hands. Pawns theyβd used and then cast aside. And he didnβt know who to believe. So many thoughts swirled through his mind and he couldnβt sort through them, couldnβt compartmentalise them.
Laurie shook his head angrily, taking in a jagged breath.
βThis isnβt a game for me. This is my life. Youβre asking for everything I can give.β Laurie continued earnestly. He knew that Dionysus was a god and so this probably didnβt mean much to him, but to Laurie this was everything. βIf thatβs what you want from me, I need to know. Dionysus, I need you to tell me what happened to the ones before.β
Someone was lying to him, and he needed to know who it was. He couldnβt keep walking with a blindfold on. He needed to know that the gods were who he thought they were.
βI canβt tell you.β Dionysus answered, and Laurie could hear the shame in his voice. No, no it couldnβt be that Ripley was right. It couldnβt be.
βWhy?β Laurie asked sharply, raising his voice again.
βBecause you wouldnβt like it!β Dionysus shouted in return, almost like heβd blurted it out.
Laurie took in a sharp inhale at that, shocked. He seemed to freeze for a few seconds before letting out a huff, bitter and in anger disbelief. He looked down, swallowing, before looking up with an angry gaze as if he was looking up at his guide.
So it looked like Dionysus had told him all he needed to know. Ripley was right; the gods had treated the first Ascendants like expendable pawns. Let them die. And what was to say they werenβt doing the same thing all over again.
βThank you for your honestly.β
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Jan 4, 2022 19:07:46 GMT -5
QUICK SNIPPET After the kidnappings, there had been one question which would not leave Chiaraβs head. It sat there day and night, threatening to burn a hole through her skull if she left it unaddressed.
Why? Why were they expected to go through all of this? Why was it okay to the gods that there were young people being held prisoner because they now lived their lives in the names of gods and heroes. Gods and heroes who, might she add, were far more powerful than they.
Heimdallr had explained it all. For some gods it was because they could not fit in amongst the mortals or because they werenβt suited for the mortal world and couldnβt sustain a form on earth. For others it was because gods could be destroyed much like humans could, so they chose to risk a mortal over themselves.
Kind of like how Lucien was remaining in safety during the mission. He was their only healer, and so he needed to be protected. As the gods saw it, they were too valuable to risk.
Yet despite this knowledge, Chiara had never asked the question that this information was really begging her to ask.
βWhy did you choose to have a champion?β
Chiaraβs question was sudden and jarring in the quiet of the library, her sensitive hearing picking up every echo. She cared little about the book in front of her; sheβd read the same sentence a hundred times already, her mind far too occupied with worries, questions and fears to focus.
βRagnarok.β
Chiara blinked at the one simple word the god have in reply. That word always sounded heavier coming from Heimdallr, carrying weight and gravity it didnβt in the mouth of anyone else. It was the voice of someone who had seen fate intimately.
βRagnarok?β Chiara repeated dumbly
There was another moment of tense silence before the god replies, as if he were deciding his response.
βI cannot leave my post guarding the Bifrost and watching for the moment Ragnarok comes. Even if I could, I will have no part in a godly war. Those who know fate shape it, and I refuse to bring Ragnarok into being by letting Earth become a battlefield for the gods.β was Heimdallrβs calm and considered reply.
Chiara knew logically his argument made sense, but that didnβt stop the flicker of anger that sparked in her chest. The sudden heat and rage, pressure building up inside of her.
βAnd what about me? You choose me and I have to put my life on the line for you and thatβs just the way it is? I just have to accept it?β she asked with angry incredulity.
This could not be a case of the strong doing what they can and the weak suffering what they must. Chiara and the others had never had a choice in any of this and yet they were the ones who had to pay for it. How was that fair or okay? How could the gods think that was a good choice?
She hadnβt gotten to choose what her father did either, the risks he put her in, the things he asked of her. Just like with the gods, her father would do whatever he wanted and Chiara would be the one to clean up the mess.
Not this time, not anymore.
βLook, Chiara,β Heimdallr tried to reason βI must spend my entire existence fighting against a fate I know is coming. I am not fighting another war whose outcome is unknown. Bringing in mortals rather than gods guarantees less destruction, more lives savedβ¦β
That last part angered her more than ever, and the fire burned less hot, but had turned into something much more sinister.
βAnd to hell with the ones who actually have to carry the burden, huh? The ones who actually pay for it?β Chiaraβs tone was sarcastic and bitter, she was so beyond that hot anger now, this was a festering kind of anger.
She couldnβt believe this revelation from Heimdallr. She knew he was there by her side to guide her, but sheβd never asked for any of it. And here he was saying that heβd chosen her to make his job easier.
βAnd what did you intend to do when we got too old to fight for you all, huh?β she pressed, because she was in too deep now. Might as well poke the waspβs nest a little more since she was already there.
What difference did any of it make anymore.
But then the realisation hit her without Heimdallr when needing to answer it, not that sheβd thought she would.
And her next words were so accusing, as she put the pieces together and with a growing sense of heat and fury discovered what she truly hoped wasnβt the godsβ plan.
βOr is it not in your plan for us to get that far?β
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Jan 11, 2022 8:41:30 GMT -5
Gwen had quickly lost interest in the trio in Venice. It had given her useful information, but little else. Besides, once the Zeus girl had lost her powers there wasn't any need for her to stay. They were incapacitated for a while until she could return to the Pantheon. Not to mention that regardless of how much Gwen wanted to take the Ascendants down, she also wanted a fair fight. She knew all too well what it felt like to be forced into a fight you couldn't win. Besides, even if she'd wanted to just take her down to deal the Ascendants a blow, she was well protected by the two boys she was with, and she hadn't been prepared to face new guides the exiled hadn't previously been aware of. No, for the likes of Hera one needed a plan, and Gwen had never faced a champion of Helios before even if the exiled were aware of Lorenzo's powers. Zeus' power sets she was more familiar with; she'd trained alongside Alice more than enough times back before...everything. At least it was useful to know that Hera did indeed have a champion, as she'd suspected previously in their meeting after the first battle. Hera would never let her husband have all the fun on his own, and she certainly didn't trust him with anything to do with the human world. Either way, the three champions in Venice were not targets for her anymore.
Anyway, Gwen soon found that she had bigger problems to deal with.
After Irene had broken her phone, Gwen had been desperate to get it fixed. It distressed her to not be in the loop about what was happening back at the exiled base. Atticus and Ripley were unpredictable even when Gwen herself was there, and it was a million times worse when she wasn't. They used her as an emotional buffer so the two of them didn't need to address their obvious feelings for one another; without her there she was concerned that they'd self-destruct.
And once she finally got her phone fixed, it became easy to see that she had been right to be worried.
Her eyes scanned what had to be hundreds of messages and notifications, the brunette's jaw dropping in shock. She went away for one mission, and this was what they did while she was gone? She knew Atticus and Ripley had issues but this was far worse than she'd thought.
"They hold you back" she remembered Ceto saying once, when the boys had done something particularly irritating.
"I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for them," Gwen had responded sharply, quick to defend her friends and set Ceto straight, "and they're your best shot at taking down the gods."
Of course, Gwen believed all of that still, because she loved her friends and had every faith in them, but as she scanned the messages she could feel a kind of smugness coming from Ceto in her head. The goddess said nothing, but she didn't need to. Gwen knew she was trying to make some kind of point.
Well, who cared? Gwen followed Ripley and Atticus for a reason. Because she trusted them and their abilities. They were good leaders for the exiled, at least most of the time. Sometimes they made stupid decisions.
This seemed like one of those times.
'You boys are so dead when I get back.' had been the simple message she'd sent.
After that, she hadn't wasted any time in getting her things together and leaving Venice immediately. How could she have been so stupid as to think that if she left them unsupervised they wouldn't do something completely over-the-top?
Some time later, she burst through the door of the exiled base, the door flying open so hard and hitting the wall so loudly that it could be heard throughout the building as an angry Gwen lugged in a suitcase. Her hair was dishevelled from the mission and the journey, tied back messily in her haste, and the hint of pink on her shoulders and upper back told that she hadn't used quite enough sunscreen on her trip. Cuts, scrapes and injuries from the mission were visible, though she'd already been able to take the time to care for them in Venice so they were largely clean and healing. She was tired and aching, so she wasn't in a good mood even without everything else on top of it. Her circlet was slightly askew, and all in all she wasn't looking or feeling her best.
Just in case she hadn't made enough noise on entry to show her anger, she also slammed the door shut behind her as hard as she could physically manage.
"Atticus Fell, Ripley Gates!" Gwen all but screamed, "What in the name of your single shared brain cell did the two of you do?"
Oh, she already knew what they'd done. But at this point she kind of wanted them to come and tell her to her face. She'd left them alone for five minutes and this had been their immediate response? She was exasperated by the whole thing already, if she were entirely honest. She knew that she was third in command and they technically didn't answer to her, but even though she was lower than them in the chain of command this still felt like the kind of decision that she should have maybe been included on. Possibly.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Jan 17, 2022 17:01:34 GMT -5
LAURIE BEVINβS MOBILE
YOU HAVE THREE SAVED MESSAGES AND ONE NEW MESSAGE
PLAYING SAVED MESSAGES⦠____
βHey Laurie, itβs Deney. Umβ¦ just ringing to let you know Iβm getting the train back to Bordeaux tomorrow, just thought I should pop back and stay for a bit. Kind of a last-minute thing. For Godβs sake, donβt tell mama and papa. If you do theyβll cause a big fuss and I donβt need that, weβre not really talking as it is.
βI thought tomorrow you could meet me at the station and later we could go to the gardens, maybe get you that chocalatine from the cafΓ© youβre always raving about on the way back. We need to catch up.
βOh, and if I find out youβre smoking again, Iβll kill you. I saw the nicotine stains on your fingers in that new photo you posted. I leave for five minutes and you start again? Iβll have to murder you.
βAnyway, uh, call me back when you get this, Laur. Weβll talk through everything for tomorrow. Alright, salut!β
_____
βLaurie, what the hellβs going on? Where are you? Mama and papa are worried sick, I got the train back home, Iβ¦
βThe police are saying you went to this club you always go to and then you didnβt come back out. But thatβs not possible. Listen, weβre all worried sick. The police, theyβre saying you probably took something? Maybe wandered off somewhere, got out through a blind spot or something in the cameras. I know theyβre scared of saying it but I think they think you might have fallen in the river. Please, please donβt let that be what happened. Please, Laurie.
βI know things werenβt great at home, I saw dadβs drinking again. Listen, if thatβs why you left please just let me know youβre okay. Thatβs all I need to know. Please just tell someone, let us know youβre alright. You can come stay with me if you want to. I donβt know why I ever said no, we can make some stupid space.
βIβm scared. I want you to come home but Iβll settle for knowing youβre alright. Please tell me you wandered off on that night out and lost your phone, youβre always losing that damn thing. I just want to hear you make a stupid joke or text me with a ridiculous number of emojis. I promise I wonβt even be mad that youβve been using my favourite eyeshadow.
βPlease, Iβm just praying that you get this. Let us know youβre okay, Laur.β
_____
βHey, Baguette boy. Itβs Luka, if you couldnβt tell. Iβm leaving you this message as I watch you and Warboy being sappy by the lake. Itβs cute but also makes me want to vomi- Can you actually shut up, Iβm on the phone to Laurie. Get off, idiot- no! GET OFF!
βSorry, Luci canβt let me have one thing to myself. Anyway, uh, happy for you nerds but this is a message to warn you that weβre about to thoroughly ruin the romance because weβre bored and really you guys left us no choice. Youβll see in about thirty seconds. Oh and we ate all the marshmallows you brought so weβre about to get stomach pains in a big way. Sorry, not sorry.
βAnyway byeeeeee!β
____
YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSAGE PLAYING NEW MESSAGEβ¦
____
βLaurie? Dunno why I thought youβd pick up, that was stupid of me. Guess I should be saying hello to whichever exiled asshole has your phone.
βListen, if by any chance youβre hearing this, please somehow find a way to let us know youβre okay. Cleo is doing my head in stressing. Not that Iβm worried or anything. Youβll annoy the shit out of them and theyβll send you back cause they canβt handle you like I can.
βWe just need to know youβre alright. None of usβ¦ none of us over here are okay. Lucienβs getting in fights with Cleo every five minutes, Riverβs locked himself in his room, Chiaraβs actually breaking out, like actual pimples - which sidenote, I didnβt know was possible for her, she might actually be human? And Iβm talking to you on this dumb message as if youβll ever hear it.
βI donβt know whatβs happening there or what theyβre doing to you, but donβt do anything stupid, alright? I know youβll find a way to be okay, because you literally yelled at a giant wolf for ripping your shirt as if it was a normal freaking Tuesday and Fenrir was a golden retriever, butβ¦
βI just need you to be okay. We canβt deal without you and the others. Um, so yeah. Thatβs about it really. Iβm not going to say goodbye because I donβt need to βcause Iβm going to see you again. So, uh, see you later.β
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Post by Lioncl on Jan 19, 2022 13:23:35 GMT -5
It hadn't been long since the death of Lorelei's brutal murder but it felt like forever since Lydia had last seen her best friend. Last time she had seen Pascal was at the funeral and all she could notice was how tired and upset he looked. Lydia had always felt like Lorelei and Pascal were more like siblings than they were, though that's not to say her and her sister weren't close. Knowing how painful it was losing her sister and knowing how close those two had been gave a pretty good idea of how broken Pascal must be right now. It felt like he was closing himself off from the world and especially hurt and that hurt Lydia almost as much as the death of her sister. She figured that he needed some time to himself but he was starting to take too long. She wanted to talk to her friend and at least make sure he was alright or as alright as one could be in their situation. That's why Lydia took out her phone and called Pascal's phone. She pressed her phone to her ear as she heard the phone ring. Lydia waited and waited until the phone went silent for a second and Lydia felt hope flare that she'd get to talk to her closest friend. "Hey, this is the phone of the world's biggest and quietest blockhead, Pas-"
That first line was all she heard before she nearly threw her phone as if it had sent an electrical shock through her. Lydia quickly hung up the phone before she knelt down and let out a slow, shaky breath to try and calm herself down. That didn't work out for long before Lydia finally broke down in tears. Hearing the voice of her little sister was just too much to deal with right now. She stayed like that for what felt like forever but was probably not even ten minutes before she finally gathered up the courage to call Pascal again hoping that Pascal would actually pick up so she wouldn't have to deal with hearing Lorelei once again but once again it seemed like Lady Luck wasn't on her side.
"Hey, this is the phone of the world's biggest and quietest blockhead, Pascal"
"He's probably home but ignoring everyone else as usual" "Oh come on, I'm not that bad, am I?" "Oh you definitely can be especially when you get into one of your moods" The rest of the voicemail was filled with laughter and playful arguing between the trio before it was cut off by a robotic voice. While she was listening to the greeting she remembered the day that they had recorded that. It was just about the same as any other day the three of them were together the only difference this time was that Pascal had gotten a new phone and he hadn't fully set it up just yet. The girls had stolen Pascal's phone from his hands before they decided to leave their mark with that voicemail greeting. That day felt so long ago for Lydia that it hurt her in every way imaginable. She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the beep signaling that her message was now being recorded. "Um, hey Pascal" she started off, her voice shaky and quiet. Lydia coughed to try and clear her throat before she continued "Look, I know you're probably having a real rough time right now but I... I need my best friend right now. We don't have to talk or or anything, I just need a friendly presence right now. Just... Just call me back when you can. Love you" she said before she quickly hung up again.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Jan 20, 2022 19:37:54 GMT -5
Gwen Anker hadnβt always been like this.
Sure, before sheβd been chosen sheβd been a little mean, a little arrogant and bitter and self-absorbed. She wouldnβt have been the only fifteen-year-old girl to have ever been like that. That little mean streak would show itself every so often, but it didnβt make her a terrible person.
And then sheβd been chosen by Nemesis, and every choice had been taken away from her from that moment onward. Not that sheβd had a whole lot of choice in her life before.
And sheβd seen death, far too much death. Eventually darkness, anger, pain and fear overtook her. It was like a poison, leaching through her body and infecting every good memory she had with her friends. Every moment of laughter with Atticus, who had stopped smiling. How could he, when Alice had taken every ounce of his joy with her? How could he, when she was gone and the world had the nerve to keep turning, the sun to keep rising every morning on a world that didnβt have her in it?
She remembered the time Atticus had surprised her with some beautiful thread that heβd apparently put a lot of time and effort into finding, just because Gwen had run out when she was doing her embroidery. She always liked to embroider or paint designs on her clothes, so theyβd be unique. Atticus had said it simply wouldnβt do to let βGwennyβ walk around in boring old plain clothes. Heβd been like a big brother to her.
But heβd had a real little sister, and when she died he was utterly broken. Heβd sworn revenge against the gods, and Gwen had followed him out of trust for him. Pure and simple.
Then the gods showed their true colours more and more, and the anger within Gwen had grown deeper and stronger, as if it were cutting deep gashes down to her very core. It became a gnarled, black, twisted thing. Roots of it that knotted around her heart. Sheβd changed from the girl Atticus had known. Instead she became determined, ruthless, businesslike.
She remembered very clearly the day sheβd told Nemesis that she was done with her.
βNo you arenβt.β the goddess had said simply, as if the very suggestion was some kind of joke, βyou donβt just get to choose to be done.
Gwen stared straight ahead, not remotely caring anymore to listen to the words. Nemesis was just a voice in her head, and she no longer had to listen. No more of the spiel about duty or being a servant to the gods.
βIf you gods can throw us away like weβre nothing, I see no reason why we canβt do the same to you.β Gwen replied almost nonchalantly, almost breezily, but it had a bite to it. The Ascendants were no longer expendable.
βYouβre making a fatal mistake, girl.β Nemesis warned βI donβt fear mortals and Iβll strike down any human arrogant enough to put themselves against the gods.β
Gwen smiled a little at that. A sharp, dangerous smile.
βYou donβt have to be afraid of me, but Iβd probably advise it.β
Nemesis snorted as if in amusement, but Gwen could hear the anger she was struggling to contain.
βAnd whyβs that?β
βBecause you taught me rather too much about revenge for me to take all of this lying down.β Gwen answered calmly.
But her voice grew an edge, lowering into a threat as she spoke her next words.
βNow watch as I take away everything you fight for. Weβll see what you have left.β
Gwen Anker wasnβt always a monster. No, in fact she mourned as she watched her old self slip away.. But it was either fight for monsters, or become one.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Feb 1, 2022 6:13:03 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Laurie's life had turned out so perfect.
Married to River. Laurie did everything he could to maintain River's privacy, but did everything to make sure the world knew just how much Laurie loved his husband. Once in an interview, when he was asked what River was like, Laurie's simple response had been "he's everything I never thought I'd deserve". Honestly, some part of him still didn't think he deserved River, believed that River deserved so much better than him, and was dreading the inevitable day his husband would wake up and realise that fact. But Laurie was getting better at listening and soothing that voice that came from the most damaged part of himself. After Ripley, he would never let anyone prey on that insecure part of him again. Nor would he any longer suffer himself to think that he didn't deserve love or respect.
It was slow progress, but he was still working on that. Working on his guilt, too, for everything he had done. He'd never had a problem with taking accountability, but forgiving himself and coming to a deeper understanding of what Ripley had put him through, what he had (admittedly rather expertly) done to Laurie, was the more difficult part. Having empathy for himself was a hard journey, but he was getting there, albeit slowly. The light he could see at the end of the tunnel meant that he knew this fight was worth it. Not just for him, but the people who loved him and didn't want to see him hurt anymore.
For Pip. That boy was a light in his and River's lives, without a doubt. Laurie wanted to be the best father to him and any other children that might come into his and River's lives in the future, and he made an effort every day to be that for Pip. He read every bedtime story, went through every night's protests of 'but I don't want to go to bed', generally did the morning school run. Tucked extra snacks into his lunchbox for him to have and share with other kids; not every kid had parents who could provide their children with what River and Laurie could theirs, and he knew all too well that not every kid had parents who cared as much as he and River did. He'd sometimes add a cute little note that either he or River had written to cheer Pip up on days he needed it; maybe he had to hand in a piece of homework he wasn't very confident about, or maybe he had his least favourite class that day. He and River tried to be everything their parents weren't to them and to grow the joy Pip gave to them and return it to him tenfold. Nothing made Laurie smile more than seeing River playing games with their son, or seeing them standing in the kitchen side by side, Pip watching River cook while music played on the radio. River doing a silly little dance to make Pip laugh or giving him some of the food to try, because obviously, the sous-chef had to have a taste.
His acting career, too, was taking off. In fact, he'd gotten his first big role the day he and River had gotten engaged. His audition for that had been something of a gamble, for he'd been up against more experienced, well-known actors. They'd wanted him though, and from there things had only gotten better. The sudden fame was an adjustment, but he had his family and friends by his side.
He loved the other Ascendants with all his heart. They were his family. It still killed him that he'd hurt them, but they were long past all that now. They'd been through a lot together. Celebrated every victory, felt every loss. Healed every rift. They were more of a family than ever, and together they were utterly unstoppable. They'd been through a lot of pain together but they'd also made a lot of sacrifices for one another. Laurie wouldn't change his family in the slightest.
So yeah, his life was pretty perfect. Bad memories seeped in, and he struggled sometimes, but he was learning how to deal with them. He still had deep wounds, and intense and justifiable feelings of anger (that was the best way to describe it, though the feeling was so much more complex and full of pain) towards Ripley. But he was taking the best revenge he could by living a happy life. And he was grateful for who he was now, and grateful for who he had not become despite Ripley's best efforts.
Everything would be okay, he felt sure of that now. Whatever the Ascendants had faced, that had always been able to get through, and usually even stronger than before.
The future looked bright.
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Post by πππππ π¨ on Feb 2, 2022 17:32:12 GMT -5
With Gwen gone, Atticus had fallen into a bit of a depression. Itβs not to say that he didnβt love the others, he loved how angry Penny would get when he teased her, but he had always been a bit protective of the youngest exile. He loved Nathanβs humor. He liked Ripley. But Gwen had always been someone Atticus considered to be a close confidant.
She was there, when they were all chosen in that first wave. She had been there when the others had died, when Alice had died. She had been there with him, she had lost her old guide and remade herself, all for the idea of the retribution Nemesis had insisted was so important.
But Nemesis didnβt agree in that retribution against the very ones who dragged them into this mess in the first place.
Sometimes, especially since Ripley, Fenrir, and Styx joined them, it felt like they did lose something important. Not just the people, but themselves. But then heβd remember how foolishly all these new kids followed along, like ducks in a row, and heβd be so angry. Angry for them, and angry for all of those he lost.
Couldnβt they see how stupid it was? They fought, all to preserve the might of the very ones who would see them dead if it fit their agenda. So Atticus usually chased those thoughts away, right along with the foolish love he held towards Ripley. Both were lost causes.
Especially in the latter, Atticus had thought, perhaps, after that day, Ripley did perhaps harbor more affection towards Atticus.
Atticus had been an idiot, heβd readily admit that. Atticus considered Ripley a friend, he knew what Ripley was like. How manipulative he could be.
Atticus hadnβt always liked him, at first Atticus had despised him. When this new champion of Set had found them, Atticus had been wary of him. The fact that more people were chosen was disconcerting, but it had only been Ripley, at that point in time.
Atticus had harbored a dislike for him, especially his manipulative secretiveness, but then Ripley had stayed. Atticus had grown more intrigued, and had befriended him, finding humor with him. Especially in their shared contentment to agitate Gwen.
But Ripley was, above all else, very very manipulative and deceptive. He liked to have power where he could, and Atticus should have known thatβs all it was.
Now Ripley had his beau, an admittedly pretty boy with curly brown locks of hair and docile brown eyes. Atticus had participated in the plan, in a type of hope that maybe they could make these new kids see reason. That the Exiled wouldnβt be trifled with, and it would just be best to join them. Because, at least with the Exiled, they wouldnβt be pawns. But alas, theyβd rather spit insults and mope, so Atticus had to rely on just keeping them in their own rooms until they saw reason.
He couldnβt risk letting them go back, roam free. Even without their keys, maybe they had other ways of contact, other ways of reaching out that maybe was new to the Ascendants. Atticus couldnβt test it, putting the base in danger.
This whole plan had already done that enough. The Ascendants, while less experienced, had more people than them. They should have left it alone, came up with a better plan with Gwen there, because she was always the clear thinker.
But like kids, Atticus and Ripley had waited for her to leave before enacting their plan. Now, as he heard her yell for them, Atticus winced.
Ripley was likely with his lamb, and Atticus would rather ignore that as much as possible, whatever was going on there. So he decided heβd suck it up and deal with her onslaught himself.
βGwen!β He piped up, when he saw her, forcing on a smile and running up to her. Despite her obvious annoyance at everything that happened, and the very likely scenario of getting punched for getting to close, he hugged her, nuzzling his face into her hair. She smelled like sea salt, which wasnβt too weird, it was honestly to be expected. βIβve missed you too!β He commented, letting her go, grabbing her arm, and starting to drag her down the calls, βbut before we catch up, letβs get you some food, surely you're hungry after all that lazing about in Venice.β
Honestly, he was trying to get out of explaining theirβ¦guests. Heβd rather not even talk about the one with the warm brown eyes, or acknowledge he even existed.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Feb 3, 2022 15:00:55 GMT -5
Atticus was practically a brother to Gwen. Side by side, theyβd lost everything that theyβd once been. She had watched Atticus lose his sister, and mourned alongside him. She had witnessed the gods time and time again hurting him and watching as he got up. Sheβd stood by his side as he fought back.
And he had watched as she had become a monster. Heβd been there to console her after the first time sheβd transformed, when sheβd been terrified by what she had become. It had hurt the first time, now it did not.
Being so close, it was very easy for Gwen to tell when Atticus was trying to avoid a subject. That being said, most anyone would have gotten that; it was incredibly obvious.
She breathed in his familiar scent as he hugged her, that warmth but with a hint of forest air. Even as angry as she was, she did have to admit he calmed her down.
She knew about him and Ripley, of course. More than that, she knew exactly what Ripley could be like. But she knew Atticus knew as well, and he wouldnβt take criticism from her on this topic. There was very little point in pointing out the mistake Atticus knew he was making. If he wanted to pine for Ripley that was his right, though she hated that she knew it would be Atticus whoβd end up hurt.
He was rambling as he pulled her down the halls, but then he made his little comment about her βlazing aboutβ in Venice.
She yanked her arm out of his grip, exploding at him in anger.
"Lazing about?β Gwen spluttered incredulously, tone growing more heated as she continued βI did my goddamn job. That was a mission, not a holiday. A mission, let me remind you, that was yours and Ripleyβs idea in the first place!β
She couldnβt believe this. Couldnβt believe that he and Ripley had done what theyβd done while she was gone and now Atticus had the audacity to suggest that while in Venice she hadnβt donβt anything.
βThe three in Venice are injured, weakened, and one of them without a guide. I did what I was supposed to do.β the young woman responded, eyed darkening βMeanwhile you and Ripley decided it would be a good idea to kidnap a bunch of them and play house?β
How could they have made such a stupid decision? Did they have no foresight? Did they think nothing through? What did they think was going to happen? The ascendants would lead a mission to free the kidnapped kids and once the kidnapped kids got wind of it theyβd help their friends. The exiled were outnumbered and theyβd brought half of their enemy into their home. Nothing good could come out of that.
Even if the kidnapped kids didnβt join the fight, theyβd still simply angered the remaining Ascendants unnecessarily. Too fast, too quick. They had needed to play the long game, but Ripley and Atticus didnβt seem to care about that.
βYou really didnβt think this one through, Atti.β
She knew he was her leader, but she wasnβt afraid to express how frustrated she was with him. This wasnβt a dictatorship, and he needed to know that she thought heβd made a terrible choice.
Besides, she got the feeling this whole thing would only cause trouble. She might as well get it out now so she could say βI told you soβ later.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Feb 4, 2022 20:00:41 GMT -5
NOT CANON!!! Chiara had been on a mission with some other Ascendants. As usual, theyβd made the dumb decision to split up to cover more ground. So it was just the Champion of Heimdallr, taking hesitant steps alone into the unknown.
Her shaking hand held her sword, which reflected the dim light dully, only a hint of a sheen but enough to remind her where she was and what she was doing. Sheβd kind of gotten used to her powers; being amongst the loud chaos of the others helped acclimatise her to it, even when she did have to escape to the quiet of the library to save her sanity. But she noticed it more on her own like this. Every footstep felt like a rolling boom of thunder.
She heard the pursuing storm quickly.
The girl turned to see a familiar figure. Tall, of a slim build. Curly dark hair. Laurie stood, brown eyes glinting. Chiara could make out the staff in his hand.
βLaurie?β she breathed, voice cracking in relief.
The blonde took a step closer, but something turned in her stomach when Laurie made no move to approach and help close the gap between them. She was so glad to see him safe and okay, but something felt off.
βChiara,β he said, and there was a note of hope in his voice that made her doubts dissipate for a moment. Perhaps he had just been in shock before?
Indeed, that must have been the case because at that moment Laurie did begin to make an approach. A few fast, almost unsteady footsteps as if he were tripping over himself to get to her. There was still a gap left between them, though, but he seemed genuinely relieved.
βThank god, somebody reasonable whoβll listen to me, and-β Laurie was rambling, and he shook his head a little to set himself back on the right path, βthe gods, they arenβt what you think they are. The exiled are right.β
Even without Cleoβs ability to detect lies she knew he genuinely thought that. He might be an actor, but she didnβt think he was that good. He couldnβt fake the edge of desperation that told at his urgent hope to convince her. She felt sick as that realisation hit her.
What had they done to him?
βThe exiled arenβt right, Laurie.β she answered, disgusted at the very idea that he could believe such a thing but attempting to speak as calmly as possible, to somehow reach out to him, βif they had their way we would all be dead.β
She remembered bitterly waking up with the taste of blood in her mouth after the fight with Fenrir, a worried Lucien leaning over her, searching her face with worry for any sign that she was still hurt or in pain. If it werenβt for Luka bringing her back and Lucien healing her, she would have never woken up.
Fenrir would stop at nothing to sate his appetite for blood and fulfil his destiny of bringing Ragnarok to fruition, and that was to say nothing of the other exiled. No, she knew far too personally what it would mean for the exiled to succeed.
Laurie shook his head again, fiercely this time.
βThey donβt want to fight us, we keep fighting them. Theyβre trying to take down the gods, who used them like pawns. We just keep getting in their way, but it doesnβt have to be like that. We can help them. The gods, theyβre the ones who would see you dead if it suited them.β
Chiara scoffed, pushing deep down within her the seed of uncertainty. That hard, pointy thing that would not dissipate now. The abilities they had been given were not kind for many of the ascendants. Chiaraβs own abilities caused her exhaustion and distress daily. She was constantly overloaded and overwhelmed; she thought she was used to it but more than anything it was like fatigue. Lucien had to bear the burden of being a healer; though he was uncomplaining about the pain, she could see it in his eyes. The gods did not lift a finger to protect them when they truly needed it.
Where had Heimdallr been when she had lain bleeding in the dust?
She couldnβt deal with the new conflict and doubt inside of her, and turned rapidly away from Laurie in preparation to leave. She didnβt want to fight him but she couldnβt listen to this anymore.
But as she did so, she felt a grip on her wrist. Laurieβs hand, which she noticed did not bear Dionysusβ ring.
βItβs okay,β Laurie said softly, encouragingly. Like he was trying to calm a child. βYou donβt understand. I didnβt either, at first. Let me help you.β
His voice was almost too gentle.
Still, she made the stupid mistake of turning to look at him. They locked eyes, and she could swear that his normal brown eyes held a purplish tint.
Suddenly, and in an instant, everything fell away. It was like the breaking of a wave against the shore.
Then it was just her and Laurie, in the same park where Heimdallr had chosen her. Empty and deserted, but shining with a peaceful early morning sun. Chiara looked around at first in disorientation but then in a dreadful mix of fear and wonder.
How was he doing this? He shouldnβt be able to do this to her, his powers couldnβt work against the ascendants. And most importantly, why was he doing this?
βI have more power with them. Like you couldnβt imagine.β Chiara turned her attention back to Laurie as he spoke, the boy releasing her wrist and stepping back, gesturing to the world around them.
Though sheβd looked away from him within the vision, she realised that in reality Laurie must not have broken eye contact with her yet.
βI can make your reality anything I want to.β He continued with a smile, as simply as if he were just telling her what heβd had for lunch that day.
As if he wasnβt telling her something that was actually utterly terrifying.
Taking a shaky breath, Chiara took a step back but Laurie merely took a marching step forward. Then, with a simple flick of his hand, something extraordinary happened.
The colours seemed to dull, and the crescendo of birdsong fell to a background sound. All of the sights and sounds and smells that had been overwhelming her before faded. Suddenly it felt like there was room in her head to see again. Her senses were dulled, but she felt like she could finally see.
βAll of this could go away, Chiara.β Laurie promised softly, stepping closer, βif you really wanted it to. You could finally have the peace you crave from the curse Heimdallr gave you. You could stop fighting this useless, pointless crusade. It could all be over. I know how much you want that, itβs all youβve ever wanted. Youβre a perfectionist, but you donβt want to be, you hate never being able to be satisfied or enjoy anything. All you want is peace and quiet and a break from your own mind. For the noise to stop. We could give you that.β
Chiara felt immobilised as Laurie took yet another step closer. Close enough to grab her wrist again like he had moments before, though he made no move to do so.
βIf you help the exiled, you could choose that. Or you can choose to become a god. But at least it would be a choice.β
Oh god, did it sound tempting. It sounded so tempting. All sheβd ever wanted since this whole thing had started was for it all to stop for just a moment, for it all to go away. She was trying to hold back tears as she experienced this moment of temporary relief from her βgiftβ from Heimdallr.
But she could not. Her mouth thinned, and she took a step back as if to counter Laurieβs step forward. Laurie seemed unperturbed by her stubbornness, simply shrugging and waving his hand once again.
Suddenly she was back where sheβd fought Fenrir before, and there she was. Another version of her was lying on the floor. Unconscious, pale and bleeding as Luka rushed to her side. Her arm was mangled, and in truth she looked half dead. She could barely hear Lukaβs voice speaking hurriedly to her unconscious form. Her words seemed to echo emptily around them.
Chiaraβs heart dropped to her chest. Sheβd of course never known just how bad sheβd looked or just how and things had gotten before Lucien healed her.
Her eyes snapped back to Laurie as his voice reached her through her sudden shock at seeing herself in such a state.
βOr you can keep fighting for a god who doesnβt care until one day youβre unlucky and there isnβt a friend there to save you.β Laurie said, voice losing its previous warmth and gentleness somewhat as he said these words.
She would have died. It was Luka who saved her, not Heimdallr. Heimdallrβs would never have lifted a finger to help her. Just like Apollo would not have lifted a finger for Lucien when he was almost killed after being injured by Styx.
But surely he was lying, surely the gods did care? At least a little?
Laurie had an answer for that.
βYouβre the daughter of a conman, surely you must know when youβre being used?β the champion of Dionysus questioned, and was there a note of mocking in his voice?
Chiara felt a flash of fury.
βHow do you know that?β she asked, voice taking on a heat that was rare for her.
Sheβd never told any of the ascendants that. How on earth did Laurie know it?
βThis is your head, honey. You have a wonderful mind, granted, but itβs not so hard to read.β came the boyβs answer.
He was right about one thing, she noted. This was her head. She knew Laurieβs powers worked based on the maintenance of eye contact. All she had to do was make her real body move and break the eye contact and she could break the vision.
The girl took a deep breath, trying to focus, trying to find her real self. The self that existed outside of this vision that Laurie created. Eventually she felt something, like an energy which grew brighter and hotter the more she focused on it and let it fill her mind. Eventually it felt like all she could see or feel was this red hot, white energy. It felt familiar, it felt right. It was her, her energy outside of the vision.
She held it in her mind, willing herself to move her arm.
And she was brought back to the real world as she swung her sword. Laurie was able to move quickly to counter it, the blade meeting his staff with a jarring crash.
But as she prepared to fight the man who was once her friend, an unsettling thought ran through her mind.
Why hadnβt her danger sense warned her when he first approached?
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Feb 9, 2022 18:44:47 GMT -5
Lucien knew he was by far from the only ascendant to go through pain because of his powers. None of them had it easy. After all, what the gods possessed was meant for them, and in mortal hands gifts could easily become curses.
What Apollo had given him was a responsibility, one that he wasnβt sure he was ready for.
He was the only one who could heal peopleβs injuries, and whenever people got hurt he felt obligated to help because of that fact. As a child heβd always felt helpless; helpless to stop his father leaving, powerless to help his mother, unable to help his sister as she struggled to hold the family together.
Suddenly there was an intense pressure on Lucien. He felt responsible for his friends, for if something happened heβd never forgive himself if he didnβt fix it. He cared a lot about his friends and it was unbearable to think about the idea of letting any of them be in pain he could alleviate.
He knew the others relied on him. He knew that they wanted to protect him because he was essential to the wellbeing of the group. It almost hindered him, really, for he knew his friends were concerned about keeping him alive. He was more restricted, as the ascendants werenβt as willing to risk his safety.
Not after what happened with Styx.
And honestly, in a way he felt guilty about that aspect of his role in the group. It felt almost like special treatment. It also had the unfortunate side effect that he was receiving this special treatment not because of who he was as a person or anything heβd done, but because it just so happened that it was Apollo who had chosen him. That was a little unpleasant to think about. Made him feel less and less like he deserved any of it.
He couldnβt have the option of being selfish, because if he refused to heal someone, nobody else could. Not like he could heal, anyway.
Lucien didnβt want to tell any of his friends about any of this. The last thing he wanted was anyone worrying about him or not wanting to get healed by him. He tried not to make a big deal of the pain or exhaustion he felt when healing people. He didnβt like pity, he didnβt like worry, and he didnβt like people walking on eggshells around him or afraid to go to him for what they needed. If he said anything theyβd look at him differently, stop asking for his help.
For once he was not helpless, and the last thing he planned on doing was avoiding the duty, in a way, that heβd been given. He needed to be someone they could go to, and he could not let himself feel helpless again. He had to be what they needed him to be, as a healer and as a leader.
Which meant he could not crack under the pressure. He could not let the cracks show.
And he could not let anyone hurt if he was able to fix it.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Feb 13, 2022 13:45:27 GMT -5
FLASHBACK Gwen sat on a rocky cliff edge, hair whipped by a growing wind. The young teenager watched the darkening skies as a storm began to grow over the ocean below. The white crests of the waves were visible, rolling over the now inky water.
Being by the sea like this reminded her so much of being home that it was comforting. She'd always loved watching the waters of the Kattegat sea, found it almost hypnotic. Aarhus had grown from a harbour settlement more than a thousand years before, and still the sea remained a key part of the lives of the people there,
The girl had come out on her own, having made an excuse of some kind to Atticus and the others. She needed just a moment to let the fear abate, to let her mind be free for a moment of the nightmare they'd found themselves in. Somebody had to be keeping a clear mind; she couldn't let Atticus hold the burden of leading them alone.
She was terrified, though. Turning against the gods was not something to be taken lightly. Gwen had followed Atticus when he left the Pantheon following his sister's death, for Gwen too could no longer stand the way the gods were treating their champions. She'd watched far too many people die, people who had become family to her. The gods always seemed to underestimate just how much mortals could mean to one another.
Now Gwen was without a guide, following Atticus and the others with the blind hope that they could find a way to destroy the gods before they could get their revenge on the wayward former Ascendants. She just wondered how long they could run from the gods' wrath.
Nemesis had refused to remain Gwen's guide, of course. Honestly, the girl had kind of expected that. After all, the goddess' role was to punish those who committed acts of hybris against the gods. And what could be a greater act of hybris against the gods than attempting to usurp or destroy them? Mortals, as Nemesis had said, should never presume to think themselves as powerful as the gods. Everything she and the other former Ascendants were was because of the gods. That was something Nemesis had reminded Gwen of constantly. Gwen had simply chosen that she no longer had to accept the system her former guide tried so hard to protect. Still, she had no idea where to go from her, because she was faced with the harsh reality that just like Nemesis had always said, it just might be true that Gwen was unable to face the gods without godly powers on her side.
She stared out at the waves, the cool air almost burning her skin, the scent of sea salt carrying around her. As she did so she could swear the wind picked up and the storm grew stronger, causing the teenager to grip the rocky ground at her side harder out of nerves.
"So much pain for one so young."
It was a feminine voice, which seemed to carry so clearly despite the wind. Its tone was curious, evaluating, but still very controlled. It was as if the speaker held a centered kind of confidence, as if they feared nothing and always knew what was coming. Like a chess player right before they made the checkmate move.
The voice came from behind her and Gwen clambered to her feet and turned, met with a figure who had suddenly appeared out of seemingly nowhere.
It was an elegant woman, who seemed to have the very ocean in her eyes. But not in a pleasant way. In a very dangerous way. This wasn't the ocean that washed gently on white sandy beaches. This wasn't the ocean of pearls. This wasn't the ocean from which Aphrodite rose. No, this was the ocean of deep black waters and craggy rock. This was the ocean of storms and endless, reaching dark. What appeared to be shark teeth hung from earrings in her ears.
Gwen might have only met one goddess before, but it was now abundantly clear why she hadn't heard the woman's approach, and why her voice had held the kind of calm assuredness she had only heard from Nemesis before.
Who are you?" Gwen asked uncertainly.
She knew this was an ocean goddess of some description, that much was a given. But she could not place her. Was she Greek? Norse? Egyptian? Gwen was not the most well-versed mythology-wise and could not identify the figure who stood before her.
The woman just smiled lightly and took a step closer.
"Someone who wishes to see Olympus crumble just as much as you." came the smooth reply.
Gwen did not respond to this, because she needed more. What she had at least gleaned was that this was a Greek deity, but surely Gwen knew how many figures in Greek myth had been wronged by the gods. This didn't narrow things down much,
"I am Crataeis, the mighty. I am the shark, she of the rocks, and the bearer of sea monsters and cannon fodder for Zeus' boastful children. By most, I am known as Ceto." the goddess continued, continuing to advance towards the girl, "I believe you are familiar with my mother; she guides your leader."
Gwen knew next to nothing about Ceto, but she did know Atticus' guide.
"You're Gaia's daughter?"
"One of them And much like you, I hold hatred for my nephew and the other Olympians."
She must be referring to Zeus, that much Gwen was able to put together. And it was true, Gwen did hold particular hatred for him. It was Zeus who had allowed Alice to die. Zeus whose callous behaviour had been the straw that broke the camel's back for Atticus and the other surviving Ascendants. When closing Alice's file, Gwen had noted down her cause of death as electrocution, but she knew it was Zeus. She should have said it that day. The computer would have said it didn't understand, but that was okay. Gwen didn't understand either.
It was Zeus whose fault it was that Gwen had needed to close down her friend's Pantheon file so the girl's brother didn't have to.
But she caught herself, and folded her arms and turning her head away.
"I want nothing to do with the gods anymore." the girl intimated firmly.
They were dangerous. Flawed, with far too much power and far too little regard for those who suffered on their behalf. Far too happy to allow meaningless death to happen in their name. The smart thing to do would be to never serve a god again. If she could take the gods down without the help of one of their own kind, that would be better.
Ceto approached a little further as she spoke her next words.
"You are failing to understand, girl. Each usurpation of a divine leader has been done by other gods. It is a natural cycle for a generation of gods to fall, but it is not an easy task. You would do well to listen to Nemesis, for she is an old deity indeed. She is right when she says mortals alone cannot destroy the gods." Ceto explained
Gwen knew this all too well, though she hated to admit it. She'd seen her friends fall time and time again and she knew if the gods were angered they could destroy them all easily if they didn't have their own divine backing. She just hated the idea of putting her trust in these beings that had caused so much pain.
By now Ceto and Gwen were standing toe to toe, and the goddess placed her fingers under the girl's chin, tilting her head up to look at her.
"If you wish, you can continue to fight a battle you will never win to make a point to gods who do not care. You can watch as more people about whom you care perish at the hands of the gods. You will provide Zeus a little entertainment, but no challenge. Or you can help me, and become more powerful and more free than Nemesis ever made you. We both can get the revenge you truly desire, and you can get the power you crave."
It made sense, at least. Sure, Gwen couldn't guarantee that Ceto wouldn't just somehow kill her once she had fulfiled her purpose. However, what she could guarantee was that for the moment they had a common goal. Revenge. Ceto had lost her children to heroes and wished for the gods to pay with blood. Gwen had lost her friends and wished to make the gods pay for those deaths too.
"Trust me, child. The Olympians do not listen unless you become a monster. That's when they take notice." those last words from Ceto were soft, almost a whisper, as she released her grip on the girl.
There was a moment of turbulent thought as Gwen turned the idea around in her head of helping Ceto. She didn't like the idea, didn't trust this ocean goddess as far as she oculd throw her, but it seemed like her only chance. Besides, she could not let Atticus down. Whatever sacrifices needed to be made, she would make them.
So she nodded, and Ceto smiled.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Feb 23, 2022 19:15:04 GMT -5
FLASHBACK Lane had emerged from her first time visiting Danielβs room and his beach which sand in her hair, sun on her skin and a smile on her face. But it wasnβt until she shut the door to her own room behind her and sat down on her bed that the realisation hit her.
She was falling for him.
The girl had been telling herself up until that point that they were just friends. It was all entirely platonic. But the more time she spent in his company the more she realised that it was becoming harder and harder to ignore these feelings. He brought out a side of her that others didnβt get to see, the side of her that was open and honest and didnβt hide behind her usual exciteable and high-energy nature. He made her smile, and she felt protective of him, particularly when he talked negatively about himself.
She loved discovering the softer side to his personality. Talking to him felt so easy, and she never realised just how quickly time was passing when they did.
For a moment, this realisation caused a rush of blissfully happiness. A pure and joyful feeling. Until she remembered the thing that made the entire thing more complicated.
The girl sighed, putting her head in her hands for a moment as she seemed to realise her own reckless stupidity.
βWhat am I doing?β she finally asked herself hollowly.
She wasnβt even supposed to be alive. How could she, in good conscience, let herself fall for Daniel? How could she risk hurting him in the increasingly likely event her fate caught up to her, should he fall for her too?
βWhat I intended you to do,β Hermes answered softly βliving. I did not save your life that day for you to shy away from things like this just because your situation has made things a little messy.β
She supposed she took his point there. Heβd saved her life and she was afraid to live with the time heβd given her. But still, she didnβt want for Daniel to be hurt because of her.
βI donβt knowβ¦β the girl murmured doubtfully.
βYou are living in fear of a death that has already happened. Donβt let death rule the life you have now, kid, or you might as well already be in the Underworld.β Hermes responded to the girl.
Any other circumstance and Lane would have made a joke about how surprised she was to hear such wise words from him. Instead she sighed once again, lying down on top of the bed.
βI just donβt know if itβs fair to put him through losing me.β
She stared up at the ceiling as she said those words. She tried never to dwell on the likelihood of her impending death. If she did sheβd be paralysed by the fear. It felt less real if she didnβt think about it, and she didnβt have to process it or deal with it if she didnβt let her thoughts linger.
βLove isnβt something you just get to decide about, kid. Not for you and certainly not for him. Thereβs no point in causing pain for both of you by trying to stop this and missing out on the joy.β**
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Mar 1, 2022 20:17:57 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT CANON Chiara could never be made to regret her decision to allow herself to be captured by the exiled in order to buy Luka and Theo time. Still, the exiled seemed to be taking a pretty good shot at it.
Gwen had just entered the room Chiara was in, and leaned against the wall as she regarded the girl in that unsettling way Chiara had gotten used to by this point. The flicking of the eyes up and down, the slight curling of the lip in distaste. Gwen had a true talent for looking at people as if they were dirt on the bottom of her shoe.
Chiara had met plenty of people like that before, and she had a feeling that it was the same with Gwen as it was with all of them; a front. Of course, Chiara knew all too well that beneath that facade she put up, Gwen was still capable of truly terrible things.
βYou made your mind up yet, Belcher?β Gwen questioned in that typical disdainful tone.
Chiara raised an eyebrow in response, moving her gaze from Gwen to simply stare ahead of her. As if the wall were far more interesting than the Champion of Ceto. It was a small thing, but Chiara enjoyed the thought that it might infuriate Gwen to not give her the fear or respect or whatever it was that she craved so badly.
βSome time ago, yes, but you seem unable to take no for an answer.β Chiara answered calmly, not rising to Gwenβs behaviour.
Gwen was of course referring to the exiledβs desire to use Chiaraβs danger senses to their benefit, to which Chiara had (of course) flatly refused. Even if she wanted to help the exiled, she couldnβt anyway. She couldnβt control her powers that way, and with the current situation her danger sense was all over the place anyway. She never got a moment of peace from it.
βSo let me put this in words even your fish brain can understand.β Chiara continued βI would sooner die than do anything to help the exiled. If thatβs too hard, hereβs no in Danish; ingen.β
βAw, youβve been learning just for me,β Gwen mocked in response to the Danish, to which Chiara replied with a sarcastic smile.
There were a few moments where neither girl spoke, Gwen seeming to be in thought, before the brunette broke the silence.
βWould you believe me if I told you I wasnβt always like this? Matter of fact, I wasnβt that different from you.β
Chiara did not respond to that, but she shifted uncomfortably at the idea that she had anything in common with the cold, cruel girl she saw in front of her. The girl who had caused so much pain, the girl who looked at people like a predator.
Gwen took Chiaraβs silence as an invitation to continue.
βI just watched the people I loved get hurt one too many times.β her words were grave.
Gwen let those words hang in the air, at which point Chiara finally met her gaze. She knew what Gwen was referring to; by now she knew the story of the exiled. Or at least some of it, she hadnβt made sense of it all yet.
βBelieve me, Belcher, thatβs all being an Ascendant is. Getting hurt. Trust me when I say that if itβs not us hurting you itβll be the gods.β Gwen went on to say.
Gwen pushed herself away from the wall, then, and regarded Chiara once more before she continued.
βAnd Gods help you when that happens.β Gwen finished βThey see only those who are with them and those who are against them; if youβre fool enough to try to change them, youβre against them.β
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Mar 9, 2022 18:02:07 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Laurie's first therapy session was not easy.
The main problem was that he knew going into it that there was an awful lot that he couldnβt tell his therapist. For example, that he had been chosen by an Ancient Greek god to wield superhuman powers on earth. You know, and other small details about his life like that. He was pretty sure that not keeping things from your therapist was the number one rule of therapy, but in this case he didnβt have a lot of choice.
Heβd entered a small, impossibly tidy room to be faced with a youngish woman who, peering at him over her glasses frames, gestured for Laurie to take a seat.
This therapy session, he realised as he looked between two empty chairs and wondering if it was some sort of test to see which one he chose, had been a long time coming. It wasnβt like heβd exactly gotten a lot of breathing room to seek the help he needed what with the whole saving-the-world thing taking priority. Because of that, by this point River had been in charge of the North American Pantheon for a little while now, and the couple were quite settled together.
Laurie, having delayed far too long on the chair-choice dilemma, finally took a seat opposite the woman. She already had a notepad and a pen ready, which was not really helping with the nerves.
βHello, Laurie. My name is Dr Flores, thank you for coming to see today. I know it can be difficult starting out with therapy. Weβre just going to take some time to talk and get to know one another, and Iβll ask you some questions. That all sound okay?β
Dr Floresβ words were kind, but she seemed to have a kind of spark to her too. An intensity. He got the feeling that if anyone was going to be able to keep up with him, and have the patience to deal with him, it would probably be her.
Laurie nodded, which predictably made Dr Flores smile. But it didnβt seem like that fake therapist smile, it seemed really genuine.
βSo, why donβt you tell me a little bit about why you have come in to talk to me today?β the woman questioned, pen at the ready.
Laurie sighed, clasping his hands together as he thought for a moment.
βHonestly, Iβve wanted to do this for a while but I couldnβt really say why I picked now specifically because my life is pretty great at the moment.β that was true; he had his boyfriend and he was safe, βI guess I went through some really difficult stuff and I want to process that so I can move past it and be a better partner to my boyfriend and a better friend to my friends.β
All of that was also true. He cared deeply about River and about his friends and he needed to move past everything that heβd gone through so he could heal and be the person they deserved. He wanted to work on himself for River, because he couldnβt even begin to talk about all of the things River had needed to do for him. River deserved someone he could go to, someone who could be home for him. River had been fighting all his life and Laurie didnβt want their relationship to be a battle for River.
βYou say youβve been through some really difficult stuff. Could you elaborate on that for me?β Dr Flores asked, raising an eyebrow as she tapped her pen against the pad, looking at Laurie in interest.
Laurie swallowed, looking down. He hated talking about this, he hated it so much. It brought him right back to the worst period of his life. But he also knew that they had no chance of getting anywhere if he didnβt share anything.
He kept his gaze down as he began to speak.
βI broke up with my current boyfriend, River, and not long afterwards I ended up in an abusive relationship. He lied, he manipulated me, and he hurt me. He broke me down and stripped everything I was away until I didnβt recognise myself anymore, and I did a lot of things Iβm not proud of. I actually ended up hurting really deeply pretty much everyone in my life that I cared about, especially River.β he began.
He could hear Dr Floresβ pen sliding across the paper, and as he spoke he looked up again to meet her eyes.
βIn the end I got away from it and my friends forgave me and Iβm back with River. But I know Iβm still affected by what my ex did to me, and I know that my friends and River are still affected by what I did. Thatβs why Iβm here, I guess. I still wonder every day why my friends and River forgave me, and I just want to be able to heal so I can be the friend and boyfriend they deserve.β
Laurie felt like heβd said too much already. Unloaded so much on this woman, even if it was her job to listen. It was silent for a few seconds apart from the sound of the pen as Dr Flores scrawled more notes. Afterwards she sat back, pushing her glasses up on top of her head as she regarded Laurie.
βLaurie, thank you for sharing that, I know it might have been difficult. That being said, Iβm going to level with you. I think part of you is afraid that your friends and River havenβt forgiven you. I canβt make other people forgive you, but I can help talk with you about why you think you donβt deserve forgiveness and I can help you process what happened to you and help you heal in a healthy way. I just need you to understand that I need you to be here for you, not anybody else. Do you understand that?β
Dr Flores had delivered quite a blunt and hard-hitting truth there. Laurie did indeed feel that he didnβt deserve forgiveness; heβd known that all along, it just felt different coming from her. He also knew that he had partly come to this therapy for his friends and for River rather than himself - and while it was sweet that he wanted to work on himself for them but to work on himself he knew that he needed to focus on himself for a little while. He needed to be the person he wanted to be, not what anyone else wanted him to be.
So Laurie nodded, and Dr Flores smiled.
βGood. Letβs get startedβ¦β
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Mar 15, 2022 19:24:27 GMT -5
FLASH FORWARD- NOT NECESSARILY CANON Lucien lay dying, and that much he knew. Heβd known from the moment the blade struck him. The way Apollo fell into a sober silence in his mind as the spartae leader taunted him with the knowledge that his healing powers would be unaffected by the wound. The god could only bring himself to speak again when Lucien truly began to slip away, to say something or other about it having been an honour to be his guide, and that he was sorry.
By then Lucien was overtaken by what was happening with his body, not by the people around him or Apolloβs voice in his mind. His breaths grew more laboured and slowed, and he could feel the ice in his veins as the poison moved through him. It burned. He could feel his body growing heavier, as if that ice were weighing him down, as his strength began to leave him. He could still hear those around hum, and indeed he was sure he spoke, but he wasnβt really sure what he had said.
The last thing he was aware of was that cold reaching his heart. After that, everything just seemed to go black.
βKid?β
Apart from River and Cleo, there was nobody else who really called him that apart from Apollo, given that by now he was in his forties. Lucien knew it was neither of the first two.
He opened his eyes blearily, vaguely taking in the shape of a masculine figure with a kind of honey-toned or golden hair kneeling before him. The sun shine brightly from behind him.
βApollo?β
The figure, still a little out of focus, chuckled.
βSo I do look like him.β
Lucien blinked and the figure came into further focus. Actually, seeing him properly Lucien didnβt know why heβd taken him for Apollo, even though he had only really seen the god when theyβd met and he chose Lucien. Sure, their facial features and hair and eye colour were similar, but there were a lot of differences. This man looked younger, for one, and was a little slighter of build. While Apollo had a slightly rounded, softened face shape, this man was a little more elfin in terms of his features. His hair was shorter than Apolloβs and had a tighter curl.
He was smiling a mischievous but warm smile, and it didnβt take Lucien long to note the wings adorning the manβs golden sandals, not to mention the winged helmet and caduceus which lay on the ground next to the kneeling figure. It wasnβt hard for Lucien to figure this out from there.
βAh, there we go. Itβs okay, sometimes it takes a little bit for the mind to catch up. Confusion is common.β the god explained.
βHermes.β Lucien sounded more sure of himself this time, but it would have been surprising if he werenβt given the way the evidence was pointing.
βThatβs the one.β Hermes flashed that smile again, before rising to his feet and retrieving his things before offering Lucien his hand as the man propped himself up βCome on. I might be a god but you can be on your feet in my presence.β
In response to his joking and teasing, Lucien took the Godβs hand and was pulled to his feet.
It was only then that Lucien looked around him. It looked rather like the place outside the Pantheon where he had been killed but the building was not there, nor the people whoβd swarmed the area moments before. No shouting, no screaming, no pain or hurt of battle. Indeed, the sun seemed brighter.
Lucien swallowed, returning his gaze to the god.
βSo Iβ¦?β Lucien began, trailing off partly to stop his voice going shaky and partly because he knew he didnβt need to finish the sentence.
Hermes simply nodded, his expression becoming serious but softening.
βIβm sorry, Lucien.β he began βIβm here to escort you to the realm of the dead. Apollo, like the others, cannot tread the lands there as easily as I, so it must be me.β
Lucien felt his stomach drop, but he felt no surprise. He had known in his final moments that there wasnβt any chance of him surviving. All he felt was a holllw, aching sadness. A stab of mourning for what he was leaving behind.
His friends, his family. Claudia.
βLane wanted to be the one to be here, but Hades is hesitant to let her shade roam the earth just yet, lest she cheat him again. Besides, Apollo asked that it be me this time.β Hermes explained.
Those words caught the manβs attention, and he furrowed his brow.
βWhy?β questioned Lucien.
Hermes smiled once again, but this time it was a sad smile. Almost as if it was carrying some pity.
βTo thank you, kid.β explained the god softlyβYou served the Ascendants and Apollo well. You laid down your life for the ascendants under your care and for the protection of the Pantheon. Apollo gives little in words but he wishes to show his respect for you and asked for me to express that for him.β
Lucien had always thought his relationship with Apollo uneasy. Lucien had always been afraid he wasnβt good enough, and in his younger years he had resented Apollo for giving his powers which caused him such pain. Perhaps Apollo had warmer feelings towards him than Lucien had assumed.
βYou are a hero, and your place in Elysium is well-deserved. Laneβs place is there and she will be eager to greet a friend.β Hermes added βI have not entirely lost my connection to her even now. Come, let us walk.β
Hermes nodded forward, and strode out, so Lucien immediately stepped forward to keep step with him.
βIβm not a hero, Hermes. None of us are. We just had too much put on our shoulders.β
Lucien believed that as strongly as he did at seventeen. Heβd seen many of his friends break and keep fighting anyway; that seemed heroic, but it should not have been necessary for them to grin and bear such pressure.
βTrust me, kid, you and the others deserve your places among the heroes of old. We failed them with too great a burden just as we did all of you. But you didnβt lose the good in yourselves and you shared your burdens and protected those you love.β Hermes answered.
Lucien didnβt truly know if he believed himself to be a hero but it was a comforting thought despite the doubt in his heart.
It was at that point Hermes stopped, grabbing Lucienβs elbow so he would stop too and turn to face him.
βAnd thank you for what you did for my brother. Our champions are not just disposable mortals to us, despite what you may have been told.β Hermes said earnestly.
Lucien just smiled, lifting his free hand to Hermesβ shoulder.
βI know.β
He had sensed the god was speaking with the experience of losing Lane. Lucien could see how that had been a blow to Hermes, even though the god had seen it coming.
Lucien moved his hand back to his side, and Hermes released his elbow. Hermes simply indicate the direction of their path once again and the pair began to walk once again.
It would be a long journey to Elysium, but because of Hermesβ comforting words and occasional attempts to lighten the mood with humour, it wouldnβt be quite so bad as he would have imagined.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Mar 24, 2022 12:49:45 GMT -5
PANTHEON PERSONNEL FILE Fairfax, Lucien Alexander
Name: Lucien Alexander Fairfax Sex: Male Date of birth: 03/23/2003 Birthplace: Chicago, IL, USA City of Residence: Chicago, IL, USA Status: Alive
Guide: Apollo (Greek Pantheon: Olympian Twelve) Key: Lyre pin
Hair colour: Blond Eye colour: Blue Height: 5β10β Weight: 160 lbs Identifiable markings: Scar from childhood injury on right knee, calluses on fingers due to playing guitar. Scars on both hands due to Exiled attack.
Languages: English (native language) Powers: Healing abilities and enhanced accuracy Preferred weapon: Bow and arrow Special skills: Well-suited to long-range attacks but also apparently has experience with hand-to-hand combat. Musically talented
OTHER NOTES: Son of famous musician Harrison Fairfax, who left the family when Lucien was ten. Raised mostly by his older sister, Elara Leflore, and their mother. Reportedly frequently got into fights at school, for a particularly bad incident of which he had been about to receive a warning from the police before his choosing.
Elected as one of seven leaders on initial entry into the Pantheon.
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HIGHEST CLEARANCE LEVEL REQUIRED - CLASSIFIED SECTION
SECTION 1: EMERGENCY ELIMINATION PROCEDURE
Should Fairfax become a risk to the Pantheon or those within it, action against him must be planned with the utmost care. Due to his healing abilities, he would present a significant danger to anyone in combat with him. If he can be subdued without harm to him, this should be prioritised as the first course of action. The procedure detailed subsequently is intended as a last resort only, should Fairfax prove not to be receptive to attempts to resolve conflict via discussion. It is judged to be a plausible outcome that he might reject attempts to talk; Fairfax is known to be hotheaded and impulsive and can be reactive.
Should action be needed against Fairfax, the following procedure should be followed:
- Fairfax favours long-range fighting via bow and arrow, so attempts should be made to engage him at close range in order to reduce his advantages at distance due to his enhanced accuracy and to force him to switch from his favoured weapon.
- He must be prevented from healing himself as much as possible, preferably by utilising a highly offensive fighting style which does not allow him time or opportunity to use his healing abilities.
- The weaknesses of Fairfaxβs healing abilities should be exploited. Fairfax becomes exhausted and suffers from pain and physical symptoms such as nosebleeds if he attempts to use his powers too frequently or to too great an extent. Injuring him while he is exhausted and his healing limits are pushed to the limits can either allow his detention or facilitate his dispatch should the latter be necessary.
- Fairfaxβs healing abilities do not protect him from certain methods of injury, such as poison. An effective poison or similar is something to which his healing powers cannot respond (or cannot respond to adequately). This should only be used in a true emergency, but is the optimal method to guarantee Fairfaxβs elimination.
- Due to the nature of his healing abilities, he must be dealt with quickly, efficiently and effectively. Mistakes may allow him to heal himself.
The preceding procedure is only to be used in a scenario in which Fairfax comes to represent a serious danger or threat to the Pantheon or those within it or defects from his allegiance to the gods. The decision to use this procedure must have the support of the leaders, and must not be undertaken lightly.
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Post by Lioncl on Mar 30, 2022 4:19:37 GMT -5
Lydia sat down on her living room couch as she stared at her contacts in her phone, her finger hovering over Pascal's name. It had been a little over a week since she had called him, and he had yet to call her back. That there hurt Lydia more than anything else right now since it felt like she was losing another piece of herself that she would never get back. She sat there staring for what felt like forever but was probably only a few minutes before she finally pressed his name to call him. She was so anxious that she stood up and started pacing as soon as she heard the phone start to ring. She waited and waited before she heard the one thing she was hoping not to hear, the voicemail. She quickly pulled the phone away from her ear as she waited for the beep. It felt like another eternity before she heard the beep. She had rehearsed what to say multiple times but as soon as she heard the beep all that went right out the window.
"Cal? It's me again. I-I still haven't heard back from you and honestly, I'm getting a bit worried about you. You've never ghosted me for this long no matter what the situation was. I just want to talk to you and hear your voice, not just through the damn voicemail. So please Cal, just call me back. I love you Pascal, please don't leave my life as well" she said before hanging up. Lydia sat back down on the couch and put her head in her hands, hoping that Pascal would actually call her back this time.
A few weeks later and still Pascal had not tried to get into contact with Lydia. Lydia felt like what little was left of her world was slowly crumbling apart and she had no idea how to deal with it. She had no one that she could really talk to at this point. Pascal and her sister had been the only two she ever truly opened up to and she was too scared to try and bring one of her other friends in. Once again, she found herself staring at her contacts. She had made countless voicemails to Pascal and none of them got through to him. Lydia wondered if Pascal had listened to any or all of the voicemails. She felt like she had gone through the entire emotional spectrum throughout all of her voicemails. If he had, he must think she was a complete wreck which she was. Her finger hovered right over Pascal's name for what felt like the millionth time before she tossed her phone to the side. She couldn't deal with it anymore; she couldn't deal with hearing her sister and her laugh anymore; she didn't want to get her hopes up just for them to be crushed. She laid down on the couch and curled into herself as tears fell down her face.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Mar 30, 2022 7:47:17 GMT -5
PANTHEON PERSONNEL FILE Belcher, Chiara Grace
Name: Chiara Grace Belcher Sex: Female Date of birth: 08/25/2001 Birthplace: Arlington, VA, USA City of Residence: Arlington, VA, USA Status: Alive
Guide: Heimdallr (Norse Aesir) Key: Bracelet
Hair colour: Blond Eye colour: Blue Height: 5β5β Weight: 120 lbs Identifiable markings: Distinctive white forelock of hair, accompanied by an area of unpigmented skin on the forehead due to poliosis circumscripta. Area of scarring encircling the upper area of her left arm due to an encounter with the Exiled known as Fenrir. Both ears are pierced.
Languages: English (native language), Spanish (high school level - intermediate) Powers: Enhanced senses and danger intuition Preferred weapon: Sword Special skills: Deduction, research. Her abilities also make her particularly well-suited to stealth
OTHER NOTES: Belcher's father Curtis Belcher is wanted for a crime, the exact nature of which has not been publicly share and which Belcher refuses to divulge. It does appear that her father has a reputation for being a con artist, which is likely to be related to the crimes for which he is wanted. Belcher's parents split up when she was five years of age and her mother, Rosalind Neale, is resident in Alexandria, VA.
____
HIGHEST CLEARANCE LEVEL REQUIRED - CLASSIFIED SECTION
SECTION 1: EMERGENCY ELIMINATION PROCEDURE
It is not judged to be likely that Belcher would at any time choose to act against the Pantheon, but should she do so there is a relatively high risk that she would become a viable threat. Her abilities make her a formidable opponent in combat and naturally suited for subterfuge and stealth. It is therefore vital that procedures on what should be done in this unlikely scenario are recorded just as they are for other Ascendants. The procedure detailed subsequently is intended as a last resort only, should Belcher prove not to be receptive to attempts to resolve conflict via discussion. This is unlikely, as to refuse opportunities to discussion and to discard reason and logic are not consistent with Belcher's personality. If she can be subdued without harm this is preferable, but if Belcher were to exhibit the previously detailed behaviours (which are, as has been noted, highly inconsistent with her personality), it is all the more likely that the only course of action would be elimination.
Should action be required against Belcher, the following procedure should be followed:
- Belcher's enhanced senses offer her a huge advantage in combat (assisting her in judging her opponent's actions through subtle cues), and make her a potential threat in terms of espionage activities against the Pantheon. When engaging Belcher in combat it is vital to keep this in mind and attempt to make one's behaviour as unpredictable as possible.
- If Belcher can be engaged at range, this would be hugely preferable. Engaging her in hand-to-hand combat offers her a huge advantage, as has previously been discussed.
- Because of the advantages provided by her enhanced senses, anyone attempting to neutralise Belcher should attempt to negate these advantages. Her senses should be targeted at any possible opportunity. If need be, they can be removed. Blinding Belcher would eliminate one of her sensory advantages and facilitate her dispatch. If she is subdued and held, she should be blindfolded and deprived of her hearing if possible.
- If it is necessary she can be subdued and held, but this is not advisable. To keep her in the Pantheon or under the guard of Ascendants would be to expose her to important information and Pantheon secrets. Therefore detaining Belcher is not to be advised. If she is held, these concerns should be kept in mind and she should be held somewhere that distances her from vital Pantheon information and guarded by Ascendants who do not possess any sensitive knowledge which could be obtained by Belcher.
- Belcher is intelligent, and this is something which must be kept in mind by any who would attempt to engage her. She should not be underestimated.
The preceding procedure is only to be used in a scenario in which Belcher comes to represent a serious danger or threat to the Pantheon or those within it or defects from her allegiance to the gods. The decision to use this procedure must have the support of the leaders, and must not be undertaken lightly.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Mar 30, 2022 15:21:15 GMT -5
Lucien had said a rather difficult goodbye to Luka before she left to join the others waiting to begin the mission. It was by no means easy to see her go, despite her attempts to reassure him (or was it herself, too?) that everything would be alright. Nobody in the Pantheon understood him quite as well as Luka did, and that was despite the brotherly relationship that had been developing between him and River β or at least, that had been developing before everything happened. He didnβt know what he would do if anything happened to Luka or any of the others.
It didnβt make it easier that he was to be left on his own with Cleo. The two of them had no great history of getting along together, and that was putting it extremely mildly.
He cast a brief glance at them. Theyβd never seen eye to eye from the moment theyβd met. For them, Lucien was a nuisance. Someone who was immature and not suited to being a leader. Someone who ran his mouth a little too much. For him, they were sanctimonious, condescending. They made all too real the very fear Lucien had in himself that he wasnβt capable of being a leader.
Despite their mutual concern for the others, there had still not yet been a moment where the two werenβt at odds. Lucien found himself worried that their shared desire to keep the others safe and common goal to that effect would not be enough to prevent them from squabbling in their usual fashion. But they would have to try, for there were more important things. In that moment, despite the differences the two of them had always had (a crack which had widened into what had seemed an unbreachable chasm), they had to be united.
He was terrified, really. Petrified that something would happen like it had before. That people would get hurt and he wouldnβt be able to help, or worse. The memories of that Halloweβen still haunted him just as much as they did anyone else, and the guilt had not left him. As the healer, he bore a responsibility. One he did not want and had not asked for, but one that if neglected put those he cared about at great risk.
He had been selfish by leaving that night, and he would not do it again.
Lucien might not like the burden and responsibilities put on him, but he could not run from them. Not after what River and the others had suffered. Not when there were so few Ascendants left. Not when the leaders were fragmented. Not when his friends were at risk.
Not when he was the healer.
He truly regretted what had happened with River and the others and he wanted to make it right. He would do whatever he could to do so. It might not set things right with River and it might not help the others but at least it would go some way to easing his guilt and doing some good to balance out the damage he had done, however unintentional.
So he had given no room for argument when heβd informed Cleo that he was staying to monitor the mission. He would go to the infirmary the instant he was needed but not a second earlier.
He would not leave again.
So now he sat perched on a chair, turning his eyes from his companion to train them on the screen. He was listening desperately for any communication from the group on the mission. He bit his lip nervously, noting absently that his pulse was hammering with quite some speed and force. He didnβt realise that his fingers were doing their nervous tapping silently against his thigh, dancing as they always did when he was nervous as if he was playing his guitar.
He hoped, prayed, for any news from his friends.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Apr 6, 2022 11:58:48 GMT -5
PANTHEON PERSONNEL FILE Bevin, Laurent
Name: Laurent βLaurieβ Bevin Sex: Male Date of birth: 05/07/1999 Birthplace: Bordeaux, France City of Residence: Bordeaux, France Status: Unknown
Guide: Dionysus (Greek Pantheon - Olympian Twelve) Key: Ram ring
Hair colour: Brown Eye colour: Brown Height: 5β11β Weight: 160 lbs Identifiable markings: A cafΓ© au lait birthmark on the upper back, near the left shoulder.
Languages: French (native language), English (fluent - school and self-teaching) Powers: Mind manipulation - can create short lived visions/cause confusion Preferred weapon: Staff Special skills: Acting. βPeople skillsβ - charisma and (if needed) manipulation
OTHER NOTES: Currently missing, last seen on a mission to investigate possible Exiled activity. Presumed to be held at the exiled base. Current status unknown.
Bevinβs parents are resident in Bordeaux, France. His elder sister Denise is currently resident in Paris, pursuing education and a career in medicine. Their mother CΓ©line was born in Paris, having moved to Bordeaux in 1996 to be nearer her husbandβs family and to make a new life when Denise was not yet one. Their father LΓ©on was born in a village outside of Bordeaux. LΓ©on struggled with alcoholism, which apparently strained family relationships and affected many areas of family life, including finances.
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HIGHEST CLEARANCE LEVEL REQUIRED - CLASSIFIED SECTION
SECTION 1: EMERGENCY ELIMINATION PROCEDURE
It is not currently considered to be likely that Bevin would defect from the Pantheon or turn against the gods. However, this procedure is kept on record regardless, in order that it be accessible should it ever be needed. If he did turn against the Pantheon, the threat he would pose would be significant if he were able to circumvent the limitations placed upon his powers by Dionysus which prevent him from using his abilities against the Ascendants. These concerns are particularly pertinent at the moment, with Bevin missing and in presumed to be in the hands of the Exiled. The procedure detailed subsequently is intended as a last resort only, should Bevin prove not to be receptive to attempts to resolve conflict via discussion. This course of action should therefore only be followed if elimination is the only realistic option, i.e., if the risk to those in the Pantheon would be so great that it would not be reasonable to respond to the threat presented by Bevin in any other way. If Bevin can be subdued without harm to him, this would be a preferable option.
Should action be required against Bevin, the following procedure should be followed:
- Anyone engaging with Bevin should be wary of his mind manipulation powers; he has the ability to create confusion and even short-lived visions. He can therefore affect a personβs capacity to fight or even their sense of reality. This is something that must be made clear to anyone fighting him and should be kept in mind at all times. Caution and awareness at all times is vital.
- Because of the nature of his powers, Bevin should be engaged from a distance whenever possible, so as to make it more difficult for Bevin to use his abilities. Ranged attacks would be of great benefit here, and it would be wise for anyone fighting him to have cover behind which they can easily move at all times.
- Bevinβs abilities require eye contact to work. This means that eye contact should be avoided at any cost. To do this would essentially render Bevin unable to use his abilities, and at that point it will be considerably easier to dispatch him. He would be easy prey for Lane Sherwin, whose enhanced speed would make it hugely difficult to gain eye contact, and potentially Lorenzo Alexander, as the light he can produce with his light-manipulation abilities could certainly be used to make it harder for Bevin to make eye contact with him. A similar concept could work for Raluca Ravana and her fire abilities. Depriving Bevin of his sight would be an extremely effective move for preventing him from using his powers.
- A final but important note: Bevin is charismatic, but can be manipulative if the circumstances suit. One must be wary of this. Nobody whose loyalty is wavering or who is easily influenced should be involved in Bevinβs elimination.
The preceding procedure is only to be used in a scenario in which Bevin comes to represent a serious danger or threat to the Pantheon or those within it or defects from his allegiance to the gods. The decision to use this procedure must have the support of the leaders, and must not be undertaken lightly.
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Post by Ζ€Ξ±ΖΖΞ±Ρ β§ on Apr 12, 2022 11:16:47 GMT -5
FUTURE WRITING - NOT NECESSARILY CANON Lucien had never had more reason to be deliriously happy. He was with Claudia, and he was thinking of finally proposing to her. His friends had all given him the same advice, after all; he needed to get over himself and just do it, after waiting so long. He hadn't been able to bear the thought of putting her at risk because of who he was, or of losing her. Or of leaving her like his father had left his mother. But he couldn't live his life afraid to love, he knew that now.
He was doing well as the leader of the Australian Pantheon. The kids loved and trusted him, and he them. He was never the type to admit that kind of thing, but he did enjoy their company. He wasn't a particularly paternal person, but nonetheless, he was something of a father figure to them and he wanted to be better than his father had been. At one time he would have given anything to be told that he was like his father - now it was his greatest fear.
However, he wasn't as happy as he should be. He had learned over the years not to trust when things seemed to be going well, because all too often it was too good to be true. Apollo had been acting strangely, being uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn. That never meant anything good, and he had the feeling that the god had received some vision or prophecy with which he was troubled. This kind of change concerned Lucien whenever it occurred, and this time it seemed more worrying than ever.
Some things in his life, though, did not change, and he'd had his usual text exchange with Luka.
LUKA: Hey asshole, you avoiding me or something? LUCIEN: As a rule, yes. LUKA: Don't be obtuse, Princess. LUCIEN: It's been like a week since we saw one another. LUKA: My point. I've spent a week in the Antarctic with Chiara. LUCIEN: So dramatic. Usual place? LUKA: Tomorrow night. And for gods' sakes, don't let the others know. These meetings were a fairly regular thing for Lucien and Luka. They were still extremely good friends after all these years, and they enjoyed meeting to chat and catch up. Generally, they didn't like the others finding out because they just relished the opportunity to just hang out on their own. Besides, the others seemed to sometimes forget that Lucien and Luka were fully grown adults now, staring down middle age. To their friends, they were in some ways still just the kids of the group, just like they had been when they had first met.
In this situation, Luka certainly did not have to worry about Lucien telling any of the others. If the dreadful feeling he had in his gut was right, he needed to talk to her.
The two met the following evening in a quiet park not too far from the site of the original Pantheon. Sometimes they'd visit a particular pub just down the road for a drink, but that night neither of them seemed in the mood for that. Lucien knew why he was in a more contemplative mood, but he didn't know why Luka seemed to be too. Either way, he sat down next to her on the bench they always met at, following her gaze as she looked up at the stars.
"You seem thoughtful today," was Lucien's greeting to his friend.
He felt comfortable by her side like this. They'd known one another for decades, had been through more than he could even describe at one another's sides. He had a strong bond with all of his friends, but Luka and River in particular he had bonded with. River, because they had a brotherly relationship. Luka, because she understood him in a way nobody else could. Their friendship was something incredibly special.
"I'm always thoughtful," Luka responded with mock seriousness, causing Lucien to break out in a smile. Luka could be described as a lot of things, but he doubted 'thoughtful' was high on anyone's list of adjectives to apply to the woman sitting next to him.
He didn't wish to press her too much, at least not this early in the conversation. If something was bothering her, it was better to circle back to it. One was not more likely to get anything out of Luka by pressing or pressuring her.
"So you think about the stupid stuff you do?" Lucien teased "I must have been giving you too much credit."
He was just joking around of course, and the playful elbow to his ribs from Luka told him that she knew that. Still, his thoughts of his dilemma with Apollo filled his mind once again, all the more as he looked up with Luka at the stars above them.
"Do you ever wonder if it's worth it?" he asked.
He was fairly sure she'd know what he meant. All of it. Their roles as Ascendants, their responsibilities as leaders. Everything they had been through. It weighed so very heavily on him some days.
"You getting all philosophical on me, Fairfax?" was Luka's response, and he could tell very clearly that she was attempting to dodge his question. She was a master at doing that, but by this time Lucien has known her more than long enough to realise when she was trying to avoid giving him an answer.
"It just feels like it doesn't end. There are more fights than we can win, and it's like we never make the slightest difference. And I just keep thinking about Lane. What did she die for, really?" Lucien answered.
Lane's death had been so needless. Hades wanted her soul back, for certain, but even the god of the dead himself could see when a death was wasteful. Lucien was sure Hades would have preferred to see Lane die for a cause than slaughtered and left to bleed in the Pantheon. In some ways it had been a relief to see the flames lick that place as it burned, turning to crumbling ash the memories they would rather leave behind.
"I felt so guilty that I hadn't been there to save her, isn't that so sick, that it felt like my fault?" Lucien continued, "How much more pain am I going to have to heal? How many more deaths are we going to have to see? I've seen so many, and even the heroic ones are so...pathetic in the end. There's no blaze of glory."
Luka could, of course, proffer no real answer. She knew the pain he was talking about, and he was sure she had the same doubts he was having sometimes.
"I think if you really thought it weren't worth it, you'd have left a long time ago. We all would. Besides, it's a little late for us to start saying the Exiled were right." the Champion of Loki responded, and trust her to add a little joke at the end to make Lucien chuckle.
He was a lot softer at his core than he acted on the outside, and he knew Luka knew that. She had her own little ways of trying to comfort him without hurting his pride by pitying him.
"You're right. I never thought I'd see the day when you had more faith in our mission than I did. You were always more of a loose cannon than me." Lucien pointed out.
They were both like that, but Luka more than Lucien. Or at least that was what he had always thought.
"I never like to be predictable." Quipped Luka in reply
Lucien smiled lightly at that, but still his mind felt clouded. Luka had offered clarity on his deepest worries, but still his concern about what was happening with Apollo ate at him. Something felt wrong, and he had to somehow voice this deepest gut concern and settle his mind.
"Can you promise me something, Lukes?"
"You're the only person who could ever get a promise out of me."
"You'd keep an eye on my Pantheon, wouldn't you?"
Luka looked at him, eyes reflecting the starlight -- along with a flash of concern.
"You talk like you're going somewhere." she probed, with caution and worry. She sounded so serious.
"And if I were?" Lucien returned, meeting her gaze. His fingers, calloused from the strings of guitars and bows, tightened their grip on the armrest of the bench as the lines on Luka's face deepened, her worry becoming more evident.
"What do you mean?" she questioned.
Lucien shook his head a little, turning away from his friend to look back up at the stars.
"Just that I know that if you and the others had to go on without me, you could. Nobody ever could make a fool of the gods if they wanted to quite like you could, Raluca Ravana."
Luka's concerned frown seemed to suddenly have an element of anger. He didn't know if she was afraid of losing him and offended at the idea that they could go on without him, or something else.
"Don't talk like that," Luka protested hotly, her distress growing.
He remembered one time she'd said something similar, back when they were young and he still thought there could be glory in death. He'd said that he hoped that when he went out it would be spectacular. Now he knew the glory wasn't in the death, but in the memories held by those left behind. It was in legacy of feeling, not legacy of action.
"It's okay," he placated softly "All I mean is that I know that what we've built is in good hands, and that whatever lies ahead, I could think of nobody more capable of facing it."
He offered no more explanation than that, and never did he broach that topic again. Sometimes he would say some odd little thing that didn't seem to make a lot of sense at the time. It was only later that people began to wonder if a part of him might have somehow known.
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