KNIFE / WOUND

WE, WHO SLEEP WITH OUR ANGER BESIDE US LIKE A KNIFE.

[deathsknife]

i like to call myself wound. but i will answer to knife.

THANATOS EREBUS. THIRTY-ONE. HE & THEY. written by abby. ( 24, she & they, pst ) FULL APP.  BIOGRAPHY.  PINTEREST.

[deathsknife]

ARTEMIS.

She does not comment on his appearance, which is seems like the best way to go about these things. Artemis and Thanatos know each other well, in some ways, and not at all, in others. It’s never been her M.O. to press, even if she feels a tinge of worry. Besides, it’s not like she does not know it: she tends to offer levity. Artemis Rhea isn’t the person you turn to when you want to talk of your heart ache or have someone wipe your sweat as you detox. She’s who you go to when you want a distraction.

Hardly a noble role, but one all the same.

An eyebrow raises and she chuckles. “Make the joke. Don’t start something you won’t finish, coward.” Artemis takes a long sip from her drink, scans Thanatos’ arm for the patch. “I’m sure at one augmentation station or another you can get your tan evened out. I mean, I feel you, all my bathing suits are different shapes. It’s going to be an interesting pattern, by the end of this.” Hardly comparable, but still. 

“It’s going well, though?” Artemis thinks of her short stint in alcohol rehab, an absolute waste of everyone’s time and money but a good thing for publicity. “Or at least, like … making it through the first bit, right?” She smiles a little, gestures vaguely, “Ah, cheers. Adonia’s a good interviewer. And no, I don’t think they take me very seriously, and I have no interest in trying to make my way into their secret labs. Weirdos.”

“I’m going to say something so stupid and you’re not going to make fun of me for it, because I’ve already admitted that it’s probably the stupidest thing that’s ever come out of my mouth, okay?” Than curves a smile around the straw of his pineapple-coconut slush, sucking hard. It’s funny – he was so sure brain freezes were a myth, or some kind of elaborate prank everyone sort of bought in on, before Pontius. No he suffers them daily. Oh, the agony.

“Bathing suits come in different shapes? I thought they just – covered the important bits, you know.”

If anything – this only goes to show how little Than’s allowed themselves to appreciate Pontius’ hospitality, despite how often he’d frequent the decks until now. All work and no play, and all that. Sort of. Well – not the play that traditionally involves bathing suits. 

“Oh, come on. Do you want to be taken seriously by the fucked up little science freaks? They might want to clone you, or something. Make an army of Artemis Rheas.” A shudder, here, for dramatic effect. “Chaos, imagine that.”

[deathsknife]

THESEUS.

theseus managed to handle the cutting question with all the professionalism he could muster – he stuck his tongue out at thanatos. ( he couldn’t help but wonder if thanatos had ever removed the stick up their ass or if they had just grown so comfortable with it that they’d forgotten it altogether. ) with only a glance over his shoulder, he kept them moving, moving, moving. 

“look,” he sighed. “i get it! you don’t want to fall for my charms, lest you be the one who has to permanently silence them later on. it’s valiant, really. i don’t blame you. but it really doesn’t seem like i’m the one running from something, dear.” finally, there it was, the spa – theseus’s ( and, hopefully, thanatos’s ) saving grace. “and before you turn into stabby mcstabs, sit here.” 

he pushed thanatos into the first chair he found in the spa, taking up the one right next to him. 

“if i have learned anything in my extensive and incredibly life, it is that if you don’t treat yourself like a luxury brand item, you won’t feel like a luxury brand item. and if you don’t do it yourself, i’ll do it for you.” he turned to the nearest spa worker, gesturing toward thanatos. by all that was order and chaos, this had better work. “give this poor kitten the gold package, please. yes, everything. no, i don’t care about price.” he’d just charge it as an official tartarus professional development session, which wasn’t entirely false. 

thanatos wasn’t quite sure which to unpack first – theseus’ unfortunate and accurate observation ( thanatos is not running. if anything, he’s stalking away from his problems ); that theseus thinks, if it comes down to it, thanatos would be the one pulling the trigger; theseus considers himself a luxury brand item; or, and chaos help him for this one, this poor kitten.

between them all, for a moment, it left thanatos speechless. he cut a glare at theseus all the same, but his mouth stayed closed as his jaw worked silently, chewing at the enigma of theseus angelos like stubborn gristle between his teeth. 

he settles for, “oh you’re one of those, are you? should’ve known. as soon as you get a little bit of slack you take off with the whole leash still around you.” there’s a smirk here, somewhere, as thanatos – against his better judgement – sinks a few inches into the chair, spine curved pleasantly. fates, they are quite comfortable. 

“i can only assume you’re putting everything on the company card with some ridiculous little note in your expense report at the end of this.” than points a finger at theseus and flicks it between them. “what are we calling this, then? team bonding? a strategy meeting? what’s corporate-speak for ‘theseus isn’t admitting if he fucked up or not so we’re getting massages to cover up the years he’s taken off of thanatos’ life’?

[deathsknife]

APOLLO.

Apollo nods his head when ‘Theseus’ explains why they had been so adverse to Apollo’s advances.” That completely makes sense, and I’m thankful that you have that barrier in mind. Not all do.” Having met some people who like to think of the Rhea siblings as a check-list they need to accomplish, it was considerable obnoxious and… well, uncomfortable.

“I don’t know why you couldn’t have been upfront with me in the beginning, though. Unless this thing with Zagreus is meant to be under wraps?” He raises an eyebrow in question, wondering if this is supposed to be some secret he needs to keep. He’s not very good with secrets.

Thanatos chews at the inside of their cheek for a beat, toying with how exactly to answer. The ugly, awful little truth is that he’d liked the attention, and then he’d been embarrassed – hence the Theseus of it all, which. Than really should correct at some point. Would if he remembered. The sun did strange things to thought and memory, here, dissolved them into butterflies in his palm, impossible to catch and easy to crush. 

“Yes. Well – sort of. We aren’t, I mean.” Chaos and all the fucking fates, this is what’s tripping Thanatos up? Talking about Zagreus? “We’ve been taking things slow, officially speaking. Boundaries and all that. Then there’s the, ah, celebrity of it all. I’m sure you’re familiar.” Here, Than glances around, catching stray stares as they do.

[deathsknife]

ALECTO.

Alecto swallows her words at Than’s instruction. She stares at him from across the room, the distance ever growing. It feels as though there’s a chasm between the two, one that if she steps too close, she’ll fall into it. Things were bound to be difficult. Despite the manner in which she’d left, and the way Nyx had explained why it happened the way it did, hard feelings were clearly being felt. Why did it feel as though Alecto was actually in the process of losing them? Meg, Tisi, Than – they all felt warped. 

Than’s words send a ripple of doubt through Alecto. If they thought of it this way, then why was there so much pain in their expression? It’s not about you, Alecto reminds themself as they keep their ground against the impending frustration. To shake their feelings and ask as to why they’re driving a wedge between them. But hadn’t Alecto been the first to do so? Looking back on it, she knew not telling the Asphodels had been the right way to go about this, but now? She wasn’t so sure. 

“Okay.” The word feels small, but so big and round for her mouth. She might choke on it if she held onto it any longer. Tongue laying flat against the roof of her mouth, she assesses the way in which Than moves. Slow, like a poisoned creature. Guilt funnels, extends like a hand reaching for her throat. She looks away from him. Up towards the ceiling. Never the type to cry, she blanches the part of her that feels mournful. “No. Not to everyone.” Alecto wants to tell them that she couldn’t help herself, that she needed to speak with him, to pull apart the seams of what caused him to melt into this misery. It was written all over him, and it made her chest ache. 

“Call me selfish, I don’t give a fuck.” Her voice rises, but lacks any kind of depth, any kind of venom. “You look like shit, and as somebody who gives a fuck about you,” Alecto motions towards him, shedding the skin of the betrayer, of the person who had something to be afraid of. The only fear she felt now was losing him – of losing everyone. “I decided to fucking risk my ass to see you. Sorry I didn’t take into consideration what it’d look like for you.” 

“I look like shit, huh?”

A smile tugs at the corner of Than’s mouth like meathooks. He’s not trying to be cruel, not entirely, but he is a little when he says, “yeah, well. Detoxing off of Hyp’s shit will do that to you, I guess. You sure missed out on whole heaps of fun back home.” The fingers that were in Than’s hair are against his temple now, dragging down. Cheekbone, cheek, jaw. Jugular. Making a face from this not-quite-feeling. His hand lands somewhere around his collar, splays flat against the sun-warmed skin there. 

His throat bobs with the next bit – relax, Lec. Or, do you, Alecto? Give a fuck about me? Or, oh, come off it. You’ve seen me worse. Thanatos finds he can’t quite make the words no matter how he cuts it. They’re somehow both too unkind and too light for their situation; this strange trading of half-truths, of bringing bruises into the light but leaving them untouched. 

Is Thanatos wounded by Alecto’s choice, truly? Not really. He understands it too much for the blade to catch. He would do the same – still might, if the circumstances aligned, earth on a fault. Planets in an orbit. Here, a flaw in the greater plan: Nyx and Hades would never ask this sort of duplicity from infantry. It will always be up to them to offer their necks for the ax. And they will always say thank you when it comes swinging down.

“Both our asses, by the way.” The hand that isn’t at his collar points at her, index finger first. “Risking both of our asses for this. I was doing really well, you know. Wasn’t talking to anyone on my big red ‘DO NOT INTERACT’ list. ‘Course you had to go and fuck it, huh?”

[deathsknife]

HADES.

He smiles back. Something more benign than pity crosses his face; he can’t imagine Thanatos is having an easy time of the process, and he wonders how often the fixer finds himself up before dawn after hours of wakefulness since they’ve been back from Olympe; if tonight is the first or the middle of many. 

“I’ve lost track,” he admits. “Depending on what I do, or hear, or see, the days present themselves in greater or lesser clarity.” He thinks back to Olympe, how it feels like it could have been days or weeks or months since they’ve left. Thinks about Zagreus and Hermes, weeping on the lawn, how it is fresh in his mind as if it happened a moment ago. “How have you been feeling?” Hades broaches with soft nonchalance. “Have you spoken to anyone since we’ve been back?” Pauses to suck on his cigarette. “Zagreus?”

Fuck it. Thanatos fishes the loose cigarette out of his pocket, lights it. He’s allowed that, he thinks, in the grand scheme of things. There are darker, stickier vices between the two of them, pooled like carpet. It’s like this – mouth around the filter, thumb pulling a spark against flint, that Hades says his name and it takes everything in them not to flinch. 

Zagreus. The bruise from the coffee table Thanatos keeps banging his shin against. Still fresh. Begging to be touched. 

“Yeah, he’s – yeah.” Real articulate there, Thanatos. Real professional. But the cigarette is lit, now, and he steals the moment of slow inhale to gather his thoughts into something real. Something worth saying. “You know he came back a day early? From Arcadia. To – I don’t even know, really. Help, I guess. Hypnos with – all of this. Yeah, we’ve spoken.” He drags his gaze back to Hades, stabbed through with a vulnerability only allowed at this not-quite-hour. “I think he’s taking it personally. This – detox.”

[deathsknife]

HERA.

Naturally, Nyx’s children wouldn’t have been informed of their shared past, much like Hera’s own kids weren’t. It is not her place to say more about it if Nyx herself didn’t wish to tell Thanatos of their time together in Tartarus, nor would Hera want to spread any gossip. Instead, she chooses the safe path, the one that makes sense when narrated out loud. “Nyx and I have both been orbiting Rhea kings for decades now. Even if we are virtually in different worlds, we share some experiences that very few people can relate to.”

That was enough to sustain a life-long bond, wasn’t it? No need to expose what created that bond in the first place, back when Hera’s heart was beating in the palm of Nyx’s hand. She shares the conspiratorial look. “Do not tell Poseidon I said this, but we can only go so far when it comes to reshaping the universe. Nature fights back, and it is wiser to follow it’s lead than to try to outrun the Fates.” This is Hera’s approach to art, and it can be extended to science and to human nature. “To create revolution with nature is more sustainable than to do so against nature.”

What a perfectly, pleasantly diplomatic way of phrasing – whatever sort of relationship Hera and his mother shared. Which is to say, not answering his not-quite-question at all. Which is to say, Thanatos makes a note to press Nyx for more details later, should the gaping holes in his swiss-cheese-for-brains allow him to remember, upon docking. 

Honestly. How did anyone stand it out here in the sun? How did anyone get anything done, remember to so much as to tie their shoes? Than remembers himself under the incessant beat of it to pay attention to Hera Rhea and shoots her a conspiratorial smile right back.

“You think there’ll be recourse, eventually.” A question, seeking confirmation, even if it isn’t posed as one. “I think I understand. It’s easy to see the shoreline receding as giving land, at to take it, if you don’t know to look up until the wave is crashing back down on you. Like the man who marks his property line during low tide.”

[deathsknife]

NYX.

Nyx pursed her lips when Thanatos locked eyes with her, demanding to know what she was concerned about. She hesitated, not because she was loathe to discuss it (not anymore), but because she didn’t want Thanatos to think she didn’t have faith in him. She knew him to be intelligent and loyal - but she also knew what love could do to someone. Even worse, what the want of it did.

“I was just concerned that we wouldn’t be on the same page, about you and Ariadne,” she confessed finally, words stilted like just articulating them took effort. It was just an awkward subject, one she had hoped they might avoid entirely. What a baseless, stupid hope that was.

“We still haven’t spoken about the extent of your…relationship, and I suppose I was wrong not to address the topic a long time ago.” Her fingers fidgeted in her lap. Chaos help her, she hated this. It was one of those topics that she felt as though she were stumbling into blind, no sort of blueprint to guide her. And if she didn’t know how to be a mother, she fell back on the simpler of her two roles. “But I trust you understand the inherent security risks.”

He’s quick to interject –

“There isn’t one. A relationship. Anymore.” Thanatos had seen to that, hadn’t they? With Hermes’ boot about their neck, but still. All it had taken were a few careful swipes, the well-placed sort of wounds one never recovered from and only administered by someone you once cared for. Once loved. That’s the uncomfortable truth of it, Thanatos is coming around to: Ariadne had loved him, as much as he’d loved them, and even so – the punishment will never feel like it quite fit the crime.

Than knows that their nails are leaving scars in the soft leather at this point and relinquishes, throwing their arms over the sides. The gesture rings wholly false, a sort of casualty that doesn’t exist in this room, in this conversation, between these two people. 

“So – security risk averted. Eliminated. Neutralized. Circumvented. Whichever one of those suits your,” he gestures towards the laptop, “spreadsheets better. Honestly, mom, I’d rather not get into the guts of the biggest fuck up of my life while battling a cluster headache and a stomach actively revolting against anything I might deign to put in it. We can – if you want. But I don’t. Want to. I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page before the ground starts rocking under us.” 

[alectocarrion]

lay me gently in the cold dark earth.

@zagreusrhea​ // @deathsknife

[deathsknife]

SISYPHUS.

“Hey there, sunshine.” Sisyphus moves to sit on the lounger next to Than’s, but at the last moment he slips to the ground between them instead, sitting cross-legged on the warm concrete. The move puts him at eye-level with Thanatos, flat on his back. “Poseidon sent me. I’m on sunscreen watch for the Tartarus horde, and you were looking a little charbroiled over here.” He lifts Thanatos’ sunglasses for a sec, checks his eyes for vital signs, then pulls his hand back before it can be slapped away.

“Anyway. Enjoying your vacation so far? You sure seem… sweaty.” Thanatos looks– not great. The fact should be more cheering than it really is. Sisyphus leans back on one arm and squints. “What the hell’s your issue, man? You dying on me so soon? I thought we were really getting somewhere with our whole nemesis thing. It was just getting exciting.”

Than dignifies the breach of personal space with a rude gesture, but doesn’t otherwise move to slap Sisyphus’ hand away, or get him out of their face. He is, by all accounts, too fucking tired for that, evidenced by the way his arm flops back down at his side, rude hand sign clearly received. He does, however, push the now-accursed sunglasses up on onto his forehead and fixes Sisyphus with a few more blinks, until they can see his face.

“You’re so full of shit, you know that? Like, seriously. How does anyone believe a fucking word that comes out of your mouth? How are you even still alive at this point? Besides sheer willpower and somehow making yourself into the Fates’ favorite plaything.” Something laugh-adjacent huffs out of Thanatos with his breath. 

“Sorry, that was rude. But yeah – that nemesis thing? Gonna have put that on pause for a little while. Unless you’re into long distance relationships.”

[deathsknife]

APOLLO.

Apollo nods sympathetically, understanding the complexities of such things, and he wouldn’t want to press with such matters considering he can tell that ‘Theseus’ is not having the best of times in present. Perhaps whatever he has involving his cousin would only complicate matters.

He grimaces at the mention of intimate details and draws back a few inches. “People like to overshare sometimes. I think I give off the vibe as though I am an open book. And yes! They would be correct. However, that does no mean I wish to know the intimate run-arounds of my family. So I have to get ahead of the curve that while I can talk about most things without reaction, I, too, have my limits.”

That does not mean I wish to know the intimate run-arounds of my family. Thanatos snickers. They have that in common, at least. Than’s heard from Artemis, too, about the infamous sibling fucksheet. Maybe more in common than either of them realize. He holds both hands up and shrugs, a gesture equal parts surrender to Apollo’s wishes and, hey man, I get it. 

“Point taken. I will not, then, attempt to regale you with any of Zagreus’ personal details. For both our sakes, hm? But, ah, I hope you know now why I dipped back in Olympe at the bar. No hard feelings, just thought it’d be a little weird, y’know?”

[deathsknife]

HERMES.

 >   system .  run   (  ‘ full   diagnostic ’ )  .   oops :   he’s   not   breathing .    this   is   so   sexy   of   you .   fuck .   fuck .   breathe   fucking   normal .   >   system .  debug   (  ‘ lungs ’  ) .    breathe   normal .   breathe .   normal .   come   on .   let’s   go .   nope .   okay .   back   to   the   pen .   the   pen   can   save   him .   >   system .  run   (  ‘ marijuana .  exe ’  ) .    hermes   takes   a   motherfucking   blinker  ;   pulling   for   so   long   the   thing   craps   out .   he   tilts   backwards   and   lets   the   vapor   out   above   them ,   passes   off   the   phone   to   than ,   and   allows   their   fingers   to   brush   just   slightly   in   the   process .   he   gives   himself   that .   because   now   he’s   approaching   high   –––   or   crossed ,   rather   –––   and   he   decides   to   fucking   give   himself   that .   >   system .  open  (  ‘ what   to   do   with   my   hands . txt ’  ) .    there’s   a   bowl   of   pretzels   on   the   table .   he   occupies   himself   with   that .   that’s   something   his   hands   could   do ,   something   his   mind   could   manage .   shoving   pretzels   into   his   mouth :   an   achievable   distraction .

 ❛ ❛   hmmm ,   send   the   link .   i’ll  hook   you   up   with   my   guy .   he’s   like ,   the   worst ,   in   literally   every   possible   way ,   but   he   can   find   you   a   single   grain   of   sand   in   the   ocean .   just   like   do   not   engage   in   conspiratorial   discourse ,   because   he   will   try   to   convince   you   that   the   quorum   replaced   the   bird   population   with   drones .   which   is   like ,   i   keep   trying   to   explain   to   him   that   we   already   live   under   a   surveillance   state .   why   would   anyone   go   through   the   hassle   of   committing   fucking   bird   genocide ,  i    –––    you   sign   away   your   right   to   privacy   the   second   you   skim   the   terms   and   conditions   on   your   phone .   like .    anyways .   he’s   an   idiot ,   but   he’ll   get   you   that   integration    piece .   ❜ ❜    

 he   could   sit   here   all   night ,   truth   be   told .   the   party   was   sure   to   tick   up ,   escalate   to   a   real   tartarus   affair .   and   it’d   be   fun .   like ,   really   fun .   hermes   and   zag   had   set   up   a   fireworks   show .   (   that  is   to   say ,   hermes   built   fireworks   on   the   carpet   and   zag   gave   creative   direction   from   his   bed   while   they   passed   a   joint   back   and   forth .   )    but   even   as   much   as   he   loved   fireworks   and   binge   drinking ,   and   he   did ,   hermes   could   stay   here   all   night .   with   their   shoulders   flush ,   heads   bowed   together ,   swooning   over   electronics ,   cooing   at   the   newest ,   prettiest ,   holo   tech .   with   the   warm   muscle   of   than’s   arm   pressed   against   his   own ,   with   than’s   hair   doing   the   thing   –––   you   know ,  the   thing   where   it   drops   around   their   eyes ,   begging   to   get   a   hand   run   through   it  ,   with   whatever   that   is   –––   is   that   aftershave  ?   cologne  ?   –––   taking   complete   control   of   hermes’   senses ,   with .  .  .   fuck .   wait .   fuck .   fuck .

           >   system .  boot   (  ‘ dusa . admin ’  )

                                                                 >   system .  boot   (  ‘ zagreus . admin ’  ) .    

 >   system .  debug   (  ‘ hermes ’  ) .    he   throws   down   another   handful   of   pretzels ,   and   takes   back   the   bottle   on   his   turn .    at   this   point ,   it’s   safe   to   say   he’s   fucked .   completely ,   absolutely ,   totally   fucked .   the   only   help   for   him   now   is   the   rest   of   this   cart   and   a   one  -  way  -  ticket   to   bottle   city .    ❛ ❛   i   almost   got   you   some   holo  kit   for   your   birthday ,   ❜ ❜    this   is   confessed   through   a   laugh ,   with   his   lips   to   the   bottle ,   and   is   accompanied   by   a   playful   check   to   the   shoulder .   ❛ ❛   but   i   found   something   better .   new   reading   glasses ,   for   one ,   old   man .   ❜ ❜   

Thanatos balances Hermes’ phone on one thigh and shifts to wrestle his own from the chasm of his pocket. If their shoulders bump up against each other, if Than presses his weight against the gentle warmth of Hermes, it’s for passing seconds. Heartbeats. Than pulls out his phone, starts flicking through the triple-digit tabs he has open. 

Half listening to Hermes’ diatribe on their guy, Than’s not even thinking when he says, “Chaos, you know what we fucking need? Forget holo-speaker integration. Something that’s, like – I can find this thing, tab it for later, send it to you, and keep my eye on any production updates, just tapping between them. Some real fucking integration, you know? So annoying – give me a sec –” 

He eats another minute finding the part, his bot, and sending them both to Hermes. So annoying. If they’d been sober, if Thanatos wasn’t fully intent in necking the rest of that bottle in Hermes’ hands and getting absolutely off his fucking face – maybe he’d say a little more. Maybe he’d tell Hermes they’re the only person he knows who could put that kind of thing together. That it could be their little summer project, or something. Or, end of summer, as it were. Together, if they were so inclined. But Than says nothing like this, only pockets his phone as theirs chimes and throws them half of a surprised expression – brow quirked, mouth carved somewhere between a smile and a smirk. 

“Hey – Hermes?” Than holds out their phone between them, pulls it back at the last second. It’s a real smile, now. “Go fuck yourself. And don’t be so greedy with the pen, yeah? It’s rude not to share with the birthday boy.” 

[deathsknife]

APOLLO.

When the other says ‘cousin’, it slides into place and he claps his hand together in a gesture of ‘eurika!’. “Yes!” But there is no guilt across his face, just the vibrance of the realization.

“Zagreus, what a good lad. You sure have picked a nice one.” He reaches over to give ‘Theseus’ a pat on the thigh, a gesture that shows, in that moment, all lust and intimacy and allure has dissipated and it’s like he’s talking to an old friend.

He ignores ‘Theseus’ asking if he’s being fucked with. “I’m happy for you. No need to share with me details of your intimate endeavors but I’m sure it’s fulfilling.” But he leans back to look at the other again, before adding. “But maybe you should reach out to him about this,” He gestures to the entirety of Than, “You look like shit and some close company might help.”

Thanatos imagines this is as close to whiplash as they’ll get outside of a wreck. Their eyes cut between Apollo’s and his hand against their thigh, brows shot up towards their hairline. He’s harmless, Than reminds himself. Less than a cat, declawed. A particularly vibrant and unpoisonous houseplant, maybe.

“I’m very sure he’s aware of my ... current state, but – thanks. I appreciate that.” And, because this is harmless houseplant Apollo and Thanatos hasn’t spoken to anyone remotely interesting since breakfast, he says, fuck it, and keeps talking. 

“I’m actually trying to give him a little bit of a break now from dealing with, as you pointed out, this,” he gestures to himself in the same way Apollo did, just then. “I – do the people sleeping with your family members usually go around giving you the intimate details, or is that just a precautionary measure?” Than remembers Hephaestus and winces – poor joke – but doesn’t retract it in any way.

[deathsknife]

APOLLO.

His head tilts to the side as ‘Theseus’ makes his confession about his sexual habits. This must have been the lovers quarrel that the other was referencing when he had bumped into them at the party just a few weeks prior. But he’s not exactly sure what he’s talking about.

“I’m sorry… Zagreus?” His eyes squint and his lips jut out as he takes the words in. “I’m not—… What’s that to do with me?” And then he leans back, raising a hand in defense. “I mean, good for you man, I’m glad you’re getting your fix from someone, somewhere. If you don’t want to fuck me then that’s okay, I don’t mind.” It was ‘Theseus’s lost, really.

“What’s this Zagreus character like?” He figures he should be polite, open up this conversation to his new found friend who doesn’t want to fuck him. Find neutral ground like, you know, who you’re fucking regularly.

Thanatos is staring openly now. His mouth might even be agape. He was so sure this would be the conversation shut down, and yet – and yet. Apollo Rhea catches a curveball with one hand and throws it back with the other. Surely. Surely, he must be joking. There is no possible way, no fucking way – Thanatos searches his face for a hint of anything except total sincerity and finds none.

“Zagreus,” they try again, like it will make a single shred of difference. Than flicks his eyes between Apollo’s. Nothing. Dead air. “Zagreus ... Rhea. Zagreus, your cousin, Zagreus.” How many times can Thanatos say Zagreus in the span of a minute? Not enough, apparently, for Apollo to remember his own fucking family. 

“Zagreus – weren’t you sitting next to him at your father’s birthday dinner? 6′3″, different colored eyes – one green, one blue. Looks like –  you’re fucking with me, right?”

[deathsknife]

APOLLO.

“I don’t understand why those have to be mutually exclusive.” He gives a small and quick smirk before he’s finding himself a seat beside the other. He’s a firm believe that support looks like an assortment of things. It could be intimacy, it could be talking. It could be gluing on googly eyes and folding pieces of glittery paper and making an utter mess of the kitchen table. People need love in different forms. Some people need it in all. He may be an idiot but even the idiot and recognize that the other has not seen much love in his life.

Apollo clicks his tongue, looking at one of the tour guides in question. “I find most tour guides are just failed actors. Just shy of brilliant talent. But hey, if they want to make the fishes their muse then… so be it.”

A small stone drops in Than’s stomach, plinks against the empty bottom of it. Oh, Apollo definitely still wants to fuck them. Thanatos leans back into the row of he’d previously occupied horizontally, arms braced against the rail behind. He chews on his cheek, contemplating. He can’t fuck Apollo. He doesn’t want to fuck Apollo, even if he could without throwing a nuclear bomb into his entire life. Than has the feeling a night with Apollo means waking up to poetry, or dancing while waffles cook on the stove, or some such other artistic bullshit. 

Now, how to say this delicately –

“I’m fucking Zagreus, actually,” He blurts. Than’s tone catches on the unspoken apology of it. So they can’t be. Mutually Exclusive. For me, with you. “‘S why I dodged you in the bar, and then again at the party.” Actually – had Than dodged Apollo then? It’s a little blurry, whether or not they’d sideswiped each other or Than had made an honest confession of his situation. Equally as likely, either way. 

“Sorry – I didn’t think you were actually interested in talking about the tour guides and their musings on fish.”

[deathsknife]

NYX.

Nyx didn’t miss the look on Thanatos’s face, the sharp, displeased frown that signaled a brewing storm. With that in mind, she could only manage a thin smile as he cracked a joke about starting a ring on Pontius, patient as she waited for him to get to what bothered him. “I’m sure that Mino will survive the heartbreak.”

At the mention of his friends, her smile faded altogether, replaced by a deep frown that told Thanatos exactly what she thought about that. She pressed a hand over her mouth, gaze shifting away from his. The compromise - no Alecto, no Ariadne - made her feel a little better, but not by much. It seemed simplest to keep Thanatos away from Pontius entirely. But he wasn’t a child, and she couldn’t control him like one.

“I would recommend you not contact Hermes, either,” she suggested, settling her hand back onto her lap. “But, other than Alecto and Ariadne, I will leave the extent of your contact with people on Pontius up to you.” As much as she trusted Than’s judgment, whatever was between him and Ariadne could become a security risk she wasn’t willing to take on.

“Were there other ground rules you wondering about?” she asked. “Best to get it all out of the way now. I don’t want any confusion.”

Hermes settles over Thanatos’ shoulders like a death shroud, the air around his head gone icy and thick. He digs a thumbnail into the leather of the chair arm underhand and smoothes over the mark with the flat of his index finger. He’d been lucky on Olympe that their confrontations had remained digital in nature, and lucky now with Pontius looming that Hermes-the-child-genius must be dialed up to eleven if Thanatos is even allowed on deck. 

There he goes again – making Hermes’ problems about them. Thanatos tips his head back, until the crown hits the top of the chair.

“I promise you there is no risk of that. Of ... the Hermes of it all.” He’s sure his mother can read the set of Than’s shoulders as he spits out the name, the way his knuckles go white against the dark chair. There is, at least, this thin line of truth winding between Thanatos and Nyx; no expectation to explain beyond what he already has. He tips up his head just slightly to meet Nyx’s gaze, though, or search for it. Does she know something more?

“What are you worried about? Don’t bullshit me. I know the reason we haven’t talked about this before now is because you don’t want to. What aren’t you telling me?” Than’s starting to wonder if this is how Zagreus feels all the time – the oyster sickness of turning a corner towards voices, only to find a conversation dead on the floor. Killed by your footfalls. 

[deathsknife]

ACHILLES.

Thanatos lists off all the ways in which his mother has made an effort to stop him from working as if they’re a personal insult to him. Achilles, on the other hand, feels relief that there are at least precautions being taken. The last thing Thanatos needs right now is to be obsessing over what he should (could, Achilles reminds himself) be doing.

“You know what I mean.” It’s said just this side of chidingly, but without any real sharpness. He waits until Thanatos is more himself, and can look Achilles in the eye again before considering continuing. In the end, there’s no way to tell Thanatos that they need him here even if he isn’t working. That line of thinking quickly leads to the bigger reason why Thanatos is on Pontius, something Achilles himself doesn’t really want to think about.

There’s no nice way to tell someone you don’t trust them to be on their own. So — he doesn’t. Thanatos is smart. They’ve probably come to that conclusion already.

He feels himself soften, just a little, at the way Thanatos speaks of Zagreus. It’s a minute change, but his body untenses and he feels less like Thanatos is going to run the other direction if Achilles says the wrong thing. (This doesn’t mean they won’t.) He’s reminded again of himself and of Patroclus, of needing to be wanted and wanting to be needed, and how desperate they’d both been for it. Maybe history does repeat itself.

“He might, Thanatos.” It’d be a discourtesy to lie to Thanatos about that, so Achilles allows himself this half-truth. He’s seen how far Zagreus will go for the people he loves — Zagreus would careen over a cliff face at the outskirts of Tartarus if it meant Thanatos could be happy. He’s got no doubts about it. “But you can’t control what other people do for you, or how much they care for you. If Zagreus is helping you, it’s because he wants to.” Unsaid, unspoken, and almost unwilling: Zagreus needs you as much as you need him.

He doesn’t dwell on it, the way something unclenches in Thanatos’ chest as the conversation drifts to Zagreus and they think of him – sun-warmed and laughing, head tipped back and close enough Than could run their fingers over the lines of his face. He doesn’t let the memory stick, or acknowledge the ache that has eased. To do so is to accept there’s something to be lost, and a pain to be felt at losing it. It’s only been two weeks; Thanatos hasn’t earned back that feeling when it comes to Zag. 

His head tips back against the wall with a gentle thud. Thanatos’ arms are still crossed over his chest, a defensive posture, but the set in his shoulders eases. He shouldn’t have expected any less from Achilles, even under the circumstances: his thoughts on Thanatos’ life delivered straight and unflinching. And still, it feels like catching on the side of Than’s jaw.

“It’s funny.” It isn’t, really. Thanatos isn’t smiling, but he isn’t giving Achilles the same distant stare he’s worn for most of the week, either. “My mother said something – different but similar, right when – just before we came home.” I also don't believe that you can stake your opinion of yourself on how Zagreus feels. Not close at all to what Achilles is saying, not really, but the heartline running through both beats the same: Thanatos can keep an iron grip on his own heart if he likes, but not anyone else’s.

And isn’t that what Zag had said, too – in that terrible Olympe bedroom, Than’s heart high in his throat. However you want to handle your love is fine, Than. But don’t fuck with mine. This is all the same story. There is only ever one story, for Thanatos. Tell it again, and maybe this time he’ll understand.

“Wants to, or feels he has to?” Than doesn’t want to pick this fight, but it’s there and raw and his nails catch around it the same way they might a still-pink scab. He scratches, just a little. “Everyone’s so fucking scared, and the worst part is you all try to pretend around me like you aren’t. Like I don’t see it. Like I don’t know half of you are knocking at my door not because you want to, but because you’re all terrified of what you’ll find if you don’t.”