THE INEVITABLE.

i am the end of all things. i have seen the fall of babylon. i have drunk the blood of kings. ATROPOS OF THE MOIRAI Sonya Winchester. Law student @ NYU.

[deathspinner]

dreamsofasphodel‌: 

“I don’t,”  Rob says shortly, and if she knows anything about his character, as she so obviously thinks she does, she’ll know he has little patience for games.

Perhaps to know of Odette, and his friendship with her, isn’t that strange.  They’ve been to so many different functions in each other’s company that it’s feasible Sonya could have seen them, especially if she travels in the same circles as her employers.  But Laurel.  Laurel.  Whatever is happening with Laurel is such a new thing.  Fragile.  Not something anyone would know about really.  It sets him on edge, she could elude to it so flippantly.   He doesn’t take kindly to people intruding on his business.

“Allow me to show you to the door,”  Rob says, gesturing to the door still open from his arrival.

She may not like orders, but he’s certain she’ll like being hauled off by security even less.

when the left corner of her mouth rises, a touch of something arrogant ( perhaps it is that moirai brand of cruelty ) seeps into her smile. atropos tilts her head slightly, dark eyes observing every single gesture the man might do in response to her words. as expected, it is the mention of laurel that shatters the supposedly impenetrable walls robert  strathos has built around his heart. the queen of the underworld has always been this king’s weak spot; and though chained by the shackles of mortality now, this has remained unchanged. that is useful to know, should the need to utilize that information arise.

“it appears you failed to understand to what i just said, so  i  must  repeat  myself.”  atropos muses, shaking her head. a sigh escapes from between her lips before she lifts both of her legs up, resting her heels on what must be a very expensive office desk. “i do not follow orders given to me by another one. that includes vacating a place before i have a genuine wish to leave.” her fingers tap a steady rhythm, a constant beat, against the wood — the only sound in an otherwise eerily silent office space. 

she does not count just how long silence lasts, but soon enough atropos removes her feet from the desk. “i am in generous spirits today, so your act of insubordination shall go unnoticed and i will grant you another opportunity to oblige me.” she stands up, though before he speaks, atropos lifts her hand to silence him. she is not done with him, after all. “but allow me to remind you of this.” the woman’s steps are determined, purposeful, as she strides toward the depowered god. her movements only come to a halt when there is barely any physical distance between them. 

the physical proximity must be unbearable for a man like robert; it would not surprise her if he snapped. but even though atropos has to tilt her chin and look upwards to re-establish their eye contact, she is not afraid. “you can defy me as often as you wish, but sooner or later you will realize this.” a pause. “i am the absolute fucking last woman you want to anger.”

[deathspinner]

dreamsofasphodel‌: 

There are very few things on this planet that could motivate those damn interns into actually seeking him out, and even fewer things still  that would scare them into interrupting one of his meetings – that’s why Rob is so surprised to see them pressing their faces against the conference room window, desperate to catch his attention.

Something must be on fire.  

Rob excuses himself politely, (thankfully, he’s been little more than a spectator this time;  his presence won’t be missed,) and steps out into the hall.  He no more than shuts the door behind himself, when the interns all start talking in unison, one voice overlapping another.  They’re much like  children in that regard, more than eager to tattle on a naughty sibling. (Although perhaps they are just excited someone else will be the target of his ire for once.)

Rob’s hand moves to his temple, migraine incoming, as they continue, but even over their chatter, he gets the gist of their problem.  Apparently, a woman has stormed his office.  That’s interesting, at least, although they can tell him little more about it.  They don’t know who she is, or what she wants, and such being true, they’ve  expended their current usefulness to him. He dispels them with a scowl.  (She may be new, and interesting, and slightly terrifying, but it’s his wraith they have to deal with on the daily, and if he’s taught them anything, it’s not to push their luck.)  

With their lack of helpful information, Rob hasn’t the slightest clue on who to expect as he approaches his office.  He won’t embarrass himself, even internally, by thinking it could be Laurel.  (Would  she be bold enough to commandeer his office?  He’s not entirely sure, but he does know she’s hardly rude enough.)  More than likely, his guest is not going to be a welcome one.  He already dreads them.

He steps into his office to see he’s correct in his assumptions, though that’s certainly no vindication. Rob knows that the moment he recognizes who is lounging in his office chair.  They’ve only been barely acquainted, but that impression was enough to know her presence undoubtedly heralds trouble.  He scowls again.

“If you’d like people to be timely, Sonya Winchester, may I suggest you start scheduling your visits?”  She’ll get a slow blatant look-over; from head to boots.  "What are you doing in my office?“

“a shining example of sound thinking, robert, as always. how charming to know certain things will never change.” she nods, her slanted lips curving upwards ever so slightly. if one did not know the general nature of their previous interactions better, it would be easy to mistake them for friends — a label both of them, as far as she knows, agree to be utterly incorrect. they are not friends, so there is no reason to express any amicable emotions toward the man before her. 

and so atropos presses her lips together until they form a tight line; the smile and the ghost of friendliness thoroughly erased from her face. “what i appreciate less is your blatantly obvious lack of knowledge of my character.” she sighs and lifts her hand to her temples. her fingertips rub the skin in small circles, as if that can erase her nonexistent headache. “as i told our mutual friend, odette, i do not respond well to orders. if i want something, i will take it. ifi wish to be somewhere, i will be there whenever i wish.” part of her wishes to smile again, but she utilizes her seemingly unceasing supply of willpower to shove aside such a wish. he may be the lord of the dead ( even if he does not know it yet ), distinct from his siblings at mount olympus, but his power is no match when compared to that of the moirai. “it would serve you well if you committed that to your memory.” 

what are you doing in my office? the question elicits a chuckle out of her. “is that disappointment i detect in your voice, robert? do you not wish to see me?” atropos inquires, her left brow raising as a silent expression of amusement. “i do not have the pleasure of being personally acquainted with her, but from what i  do know of her, i can understand why you might prefer the company of ever-so-lovely laurel.” she pauses, lets him consider ( or ignore; he is free to do whatever he wishes ) her words, before she continues. “i came to greet you and ask how is everything.” truth. truth. “it is not a habit of mine to just ignore my new acquaintances, so i am here to fix my own mistake.” lie. lie. “so, from where do you wish to start?”

[deathspinner]

fateofclotho‌: 

“i want to leave in ten minutes so we can make that dinner reservation i set up. alright?” the man calls over to theo. shesimply gives him a nod in response as her gaze is fixated on her work. she didn’t really want to go out to dinner with the man, but she had a fairly boring day and he was promising to pay. the man was just some regular mortal, someone she had met at one of her galleries. he really was just someone to help pass the time, not that he knew that.

out of the quiet gallery theo suddenly sensed something. clotho sensed it. before the woman spoke up she knew who was here. but now she spoke up and she felt goosebumps raise on her arms. that voice. theo would know that voice anywhere.

the man spoke up before she could. “we are about to close for the night. you will have to come by another time.”

her sister spoke to her again, this time calling out to her. a smile dancing on her lips. her sister had finally come. finally.

the man who she was with seemed to pick up in her sudden interest in the voice. they locked eyes and she could practically see the gears turning in his head as he worked out what was happening. she could see him clenching his jaw. he marches past her out into the gallery. standing in the doorway she watches his face react to the woman standing there. nervousness takes over for a moment before the mortal man masks it. “theo doesn’t have a sister, i think you better leave, now.” not any sister he knows of, but it was true that clotho could feel her own sister standing mere feet away.

grabbing her coat and bag off the chair, clotho nearly pushed the man over to walk through the door. her eyes lock with that of her sister’s. a different body but still the same person underneath. “sister.” she greeted back, a smile snaking onto her face. “don’t wait up. i won’t be back for a while.” she tossed over her shoulder to the man as she joined next to her sister, ready to fall back in her usual spot at her sister’s side. “i think it’s time we leave and wine sounds perfect just about now. i’m done listening to him talk.”

she does not reply immediately to her sister after the poor mortal has hastily stumbled out of the gallery. instead, atropos lets out an authentic chuckle, eyes flicking up to meet clotho’s.“quite the companion you have found for yourself.” the woman states. “how you tolerate the presence of these people is beyond me. rather admirable, i would say.” make no mistake — she has attempted to understand clotho’s fascination with mortals several times. she has not engaged with them as frequently as her sister has; nor have her associations been as deep as clotho’s. but even after all these years of existence, she has not unearthed the secret of tolerating these fickle mortals for longer than necessary. mayhaps she never will, and mayhaps she will never care enough to figure out their complex puzzles. 

her movements are graceful as she spins around, following clotho out onto the street. “i know just the place.” she muses; and already her feet are moving, heels clicking against the concrete as she walks. “there is this rooftop bar not too far away from here. one of hermione’s clients’ husbands cheated on his wife there with his little mistress.” a pause as she contemplates her next words. eventually, atropos shrugs. “it truly is a quaint place, and considering the queen’s incredibly low opinion of the place, we need not worry about unwanted distractions.” although the city never sleeps, this particular street seems to be in a sleeping state — or maybe it is simply unable to deal with the energy of two fates walking side by side. 

whatever the reason, it does little to capture atropos’ single-minded interest. “so,” she continues after a moment of comfortable silence, “have you enjoyed new york lately? i trust it has treated with you kindness, yes?” no matter how stoic and emotionless she may appear, even she cannot help but let some of her protective oldest sister nature bleed through to his words. her sisters, alongside her sense of duty, are her world; and should someone slight them even in the mildest way possible, she would have vengeance. “or do you wish for me to give you an update on how everyone is doing?”

[deathspinner]

@fateofclotho​

when she sets her foot inside the gallery, there is only one other person admiring the artwork. she spares them only the tiniest of glances; that is all she needs to form a full assessment of this particular mortal. there is nothing about them that is worth of highlighting, for they are average in every way possible. the history books will not remember their name, not even as a tiny footnote in the middle of a book that no one bothers reading. there is nothing special about them — they are just another nameless pawn that would rather follow orders than carry the burden of independent thinking. 

the frightened look in their eyes when they finally realize they are being watched confirms her suspicions. part of her wants to laugh; she has not uttered a word, yet she has already sent one mortal running away in fright. but that would require her to actually dedicate a scrap of attention to the mortal, something they yet again are not worthy of. as soon as the door closes after the mortal’s hasty departure, atropos turns her gaze from the door, allowing it roam around the gallery space. 

some of the works she has seen before. some are new to her. regardless, the overall aura of this place belongs to her sister as indisputably as the two are related. the thought curls the corners of the goddess’ mouth upward. “i  do hope that was not one of your favored clients.” she speaks as she steps forward, the click of her heels against the floor a loud         ( almost violent ) sound in the quiet room. “poor thing seemed quite focused on theodora’s art until i came along.” she chuckles. atropos pauses and waits for her sister’s reply because she is somewhere here ( she can sense it ). her left eyebrow rises and falls in quick succession as she again fails to receive the response she is after. 

ah well. little sisters and their odd moods.

“come out now, my darling sister.” atropos calls out, and though she commands ( as usual ), there is also an undertone of genuine fondness that is reserved  exclusively for her sisters. “we may have all the time in the world, but i do prefer catching up over a glass of wine to chatting in the middle of an art exhibition.”

[deathspinner]

ncbulovs‌: 

Odette’s nose wrinkles distastefully. There’s an unsettling weight in her chest, the heaviness of being seen, being known, and really – who the hell was this girl to tell her she was alone. Anger simmers beneath her skin at being both read so easily and the simple boldness the stranger had in approaching her. And yet, where her anger might have have easily bubbled into her usually antagonistic tendencies, there’s an odd edge to the other woman’s laugh that prevents her blood from boiling.

“We’ve never met before – how do you know my name?” The corners of her eyes wrinkle as she squints suspiciously, and though accusation laces her voice, Odette knows that she could be entirely wrong just as easily. The art dealer was quite aware of her pattern of meeting, then almost immediately forgetting, most of the people she met at those fancy parties; there was no reason to remember anyone but the most influential, after all. But that deeper, more intrinsic feeling of familiarity that had been washing over her so often was also present. It wasn’t as strong perhaps, as other times, but it frustrated her nonetheless, akin to the feeling of a word on the tip of her tongue.

Or perhaps, it’s simply an intimidation tactic. It’s not entirely unreasonable given the less savory aspects of her career. A scoff escapes the sharp line of her mouth. “Look, if someone sent you to me specifically, just spit it out. I’m not interested in games.”

the suspicion that her words bring forth, the immediate sense of distrust that her mere presence elicits in odette, does not surprise atropos the slightest. a  seeming stranger walking up to you and initiating a conversation filled personal details? surely she too would be frightened and unwelcoming toward prolonging the life of their little chat. but that is something she will never discover the truth of it, and she is content with the fact. 

it is with this same sense of serenity that she continues regarding odette’s all too mortal form. “believe it or not, you and i are acquainted.” there is nothing uncertain about the way the words leave her tongue. they are all laced with unwavering, sharp confidence — a stark contrast to the understanding hum of a sound that atropos lets out. “though i suppose i cannot fault you for allowing it fade from your memory.” her features entertain a ghost of a smile, as if she is laughing at a private joke only she can understand. “it appears to be a rather frequent occurrence with your lot.”

the woman unleashes yet another round of baseless accusations at her — and yet again, the only effect it has the slight raise of atropos’ left eyebrow. “no one sends me anywhere, odette.” she speaks, her voice firm. “if i am somewhere, it is because i wish to be there myself. following orders is a task belonging to those lesser than i.” not always true, a quiet voice reminds her inside her head; but, unsurprisingly, she shoves that line of thought aside swiftly. 

“must i repeat myself?” atropos sighs, a theatrical quality to the sound. “i am merely here to greet you.” a pause. “i am no enemy of yours, odette. you may not recognize me, but be certain of this. you would much rather have me by your side than against you.” 

[petticoat]

“Do you know what it means to have Death know your name?”

— Anne Rice, Interview with the Vampire (via bibliophilebunny)

[deathspinner]

emberstoflames‌: 

It seemed that Hephaestus’ lot in recent hours was to run into those he’d rather not see again. It mattered little if he knew them or if they were complete strangers; the woman’s eyes affixed to his every movement made that abundantly clear.

A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “Is that so?” he inquired, a mirthless smile rising on his face. Hephaestus was vengeful, yes, but even at the height of his power, he could not imagine smiting anyone for such an insult. Create a volcano nearby, certainly. His brow rose and then furrowed, wondering how she could read him so easily. So many could hardly read him at all and the thought that this stranger could decipher his emotions – as if he was one who wore his heart on his sleeve – was not one that sat well with him. The woman’s words were strange and as Hephaestus considered his response, he wondered if this was someone he should know, if this was someone he had previously dismissed as insignificant. He sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly. “How could I require your assistance when I don’t know you?” he asked, running his hand over his beard. “I’ve just been given…a nasty shock.” It was more of an admission than he wished to make and it was a repeat of his previous words, but Hephaestus had no wish to snarl at a woman simply for inquiring. [ He had not the power to back the words regardless. ] 

There was something curious about this woman; Hephaestus was shaken, had been shaken since his memories had been returned to him, since he’d spoken with Achilles. Speaking to the woman in front of him did nothing to assuage that feeling and as she laughed, his brow furrowed. Perhaps she knew more about the city than he. He wasn’t speaking, however, of humans and their dark impulses and even darker senses of guilt. No, Hephaestus spoke of the gods and their powers, for certainly they could not all be lost. If they were, he suspected that whoever had stripped his own divinity had a power unheard of. His lips twisted into something resembling a smile, though there was no amusement in it. “Perhaps you are scaredsimply because you know not what is out there,” he countered, the glint in his eye one that more familiar on the face of the god of fire instead of this mortal counterpart he’d been masquerading as. His eyes narrowed. “Or perhaps you know to not fear anything, because there are those who fear you.” He ran a hand over his eyes.

“you certainly do.” atropos nods; and if one did not know better, they could claim she is genuinely enjoying this exchange with the extinguished god of fire. there is hardly any evidence to claim contrary — with relaxed posture, playful smile, and lively eyes, she would not cast judgment on someone if they mistook them for friends. in reality, she knows, all the amusement and joy is one-sided. one glance at hephaestus’ bedraggled form, and his distress is painfully visible to anyone who is familiar with the signs — and even those who are not. not that she can blame them. she has witnessed it happen over and over again. being surrounded by stressful, unexplainable circumstances is generally enough to deteriorate anyone’s overall look. gods are no exceptions.

she furrows her brows, lips pressed together in a tight line. “are you unfamiliar with the concept of altruism, sir?” atropos inquires, her voice all faux concern as she carefully steps forward. her eyes go over his form repeatedly, as if she truly is concerned for his well-being. “i believe a reminder of its meaning would serve you well. our lives have a tendency to be awfully short-lived if we refuse to seek assistance from those who do not belong to our inner circle.” with softness that a creature of her calibre should be inherently incapable of possessing, atropos lays her hand on his cheek. his facial hair feels rough beneath her palm. “but i suppose you need not spend your precious energy on worrying about such matters.” there it is again, the flash of a cruel smile that betrays the gentleness of her gesture. “with a girlfriend and wife at your disposal, i am certain your needs are thoroughly looked after.” 

she taps his cheek gently twice before she moves once again, though atropos’ gaze remains fixed on the god. he is beginning to suspect something — as expected. everything is going according to the plan. “did you not hear what i just shared with you? i have lived my whole life here in new york. do you not think i would have, by now, already encountered all the fearsome creatures that lurk in the city’s shadows?” the second accusation earns yet another burst of joyful laughter from her. “in the name of honesty, i can be rather frightening.” she chuckles. “but such is the way of the courtroom. there is no room for weaknesses.” she has been studying him, but now she lifts her gaze so she can look directly into his eyes. her left brow raises in sync with the movement — a dare. a challenge. “but if it is something else you are implying, please, do share. whatever it is, i am sure it could improve my reputation and tactics as a lawyer.”

[deathspinner]

@dreamsofasphodel​

they lift their gaze the moment she enters the room — her normal effect on people. equally familiar and ordinary is the way their bodies seem to freeze and eyes fill with something akin to fear and discomfort. they do not want to be anywhere near her, and it is only their sense of duty which keeps them glued to their desks instead of making a run for it. perhaps she would find it amusing if she was here without a particular purpose. but today, she is here for a reason; and now she needs to find out more about said reason.

“mr  strathos’ office.” it is not a kind request ( she does not request; she decrees, she commands ), but it achieves the desired goal. one intern points wordlessly toward one of the doors a little further down the hallway. atropos turns her gaze away from the group of scared children, attention fully on the room ahead. her heels click against the floor as she strides forward, sound piercingly loud in the otherwise silent office floor.  

she is not a wasteful person; she does not spend any unnecessary time on getting to where she wants to be. atropos places her hand on the door handle, and with a swift moment, turns it so that the door unlocks and opens. the room which presents itself to her is entirely, utterly unsurprising — it is precisely what she expected from the humanized lord of the dead. she lets go of the door handle and makes her way to his office chair with decisive steps. she may intrude on what is his personal space, but nothing about atropos’ appearance, as she sits down, shows any signs of remorse ( because she isn’t ). 

now, all she can do is wait for the man himself to make an appearance. given the kind of person he is, it should not take long — and unsurprisingly, it does not. soon enough, her eyes are not on the still open door, but on the tall figure standing near it. 

“you are late, robert  strathos.” 

[deathspinner]

ncbulovs‌: 

Her latest client specializes in custom installation graffiti – Odette doesn’t totally understand the appeal; she likes classical sculptures, explorations of old with the new, powerful women. But there’s something about the messiness, the lack of edges, paints blurring and seeping into each other that calls to her chaotic nature. It’s very specifically not neat, and that’s something the art dealer understands deep in her marrow.

Unfortunately, his art doesn’t preclude her client from being a total ass; a few hours in, and several arguments later, she decides to take a lengthy smoke break outside the building, leaning in the shadow of the brick wall. Her thoughts are preoccupied with other men who infuriated her when a low voice interrupts her.

Her head tilts askance, light eyes observing the figure carefully; the urge to respond immediately is strong, but Odette can’t quite quell the feeling that the will the younger woman imposes is somehow also her own. Dark brows furrow, and she takes a long drag before responding. “I don’t know. And I don’t care to speculate,” she replies, abrasive as always. “I’m shocked that anyone would care to speculate.”  

Smoke fills her lung once more, and then she drops the cigarette, crushed beneath the heel of her boot – a part of her recognizes that conversing with strangers isn’t her forte, but something about the young woman captivates her. “Is that the opening line to your pitch or something? I’m not buying anything from you.”

she has never been one to form attachments. aside from her undying loyalty to her sisters and her unwavering sense of duty, relationships and attachments hold no meaning to atropos. they are, after all, nothing but distractions that she cannot afford in her line of work. nothing but frivolities which she has never needed to experience herself. in spite of this, the woman’s lips curve upward into a fond smile as she listens to odette speak. perhaps it is a twinge of familial affection; perhas it is the same amusement that colors all of her interactions with these fallen beings. she does not know for certain, nor does she care to find out just now.

“how is it so shocking?” a curious raise of brows accompanies her inquiry. “i consider people watching and speculating a refreshing change from my regular line of work.” a lie — it is an integral part of her duty to follow people and their lives, for they factor greatly into the end they will face. “based on my experience, i suspect you are more alone in your opinion than i.” 

thenodette speaks again; and again, atropos smiles genuinely, a burst of laughter barely concealed behind it. how ironic it is that she is in the presence of one of the most unpleasant goddesses, yet her feelings are the most authentic they have been in a while. “it most definitely is not a pitch of any sorts.” atropos chuckles. “rest assured, nobody wishes to live in a world where i have to resort to selling my ideas rather than just making them a reality.”

“you need not purchase anything from me either, odette.” she continues, briefly glancing the couple who had unknowingly sparked this whole exchange. as they move away, so does atropos’ gaze which, yet again, returns to observe the older woman’s reactions ( no matter how large or minuscule ). “i am only here to say hello. it has, after all, been a while since the last time we saw each other.”

[deathspinner]

@catalina-ripley​

softness has not found its home beneath her ribcage, and it is unlikely it ever will. there is, however, an undeniable layer of fondness to her facial expression as she steps out of the elevator and immediately lays her eyes on the person who summoned her here. or perhaps it is she who summoned clotho here and her sister is merely early. or maybe it is the innate connection all three of the sisters share — always knowing where the others are, always able to call on them, regardless of the situation. 

not that it, in the end, even matters. itdoes not matter either that they are meeting at some charming ( opulent, mortals would likely call it ) rooftop bar at one of manhattan’s countless hotels. whatdoes matter is the fact they both are here — a fact that stirs something warm, something affectionate in her chest.

wordlessly, her eyes still trained on her sister, atropos lifts her hand; and just like that, there is a bartender by her side, ready to take her order. “bring us,” she gestures toward clotho, “two martinis.” she glances at them. “now.” most likely frightened by her stern tone, the bartender merely nods and scurries away to fulfill her order. atropos’ eyes sparkle with amusement as she observes the mortal’s sudden haste, but they do not hold her attention for long. they are, after all, not the reason why she is here.

there is no hurry present in her steps as she makes her way toward clotho; only certainty and the promise of inevitability. “remind me again, sister, how old is our darling catalina?” her question is all the warning clotho receives of her arrival ( though, atropos suspects, she must have known already ). with grace that a creature like her should not be capable of possessing, atropos sits down, shifting in her seat so that she may properly face clotho. “i took the liberty of ordering us martinis and, well, it would not do if this respected establishment were to serve alcohol to minors.” a chuckle. “that would have all the makings of a highly scandalous future.”

[deathspinner]

exhvmc‌: 

MUST BE A TALENT,  how a plume of smoke already spills past his lips the moment he exits the cab. the sun has set, but the sky is still a merry shade of periwinkle. dastardly early for him — late for others. and so it goes. 

fingers reach to pluck the deathstick from between pale lips, tapping the ash at the bottom with a quick flick choosing to linger by the entrance until there’s none left to burn. it must be his fifth restraining order now, give or take. he reckons it’s karma of some sort, to be confined to the repetition of a situation that’s become a cosmic joke. 

it takes him a few drags to acknowledge the presence — still as a sentinel over his shoulder.  ❝   either you’re a paralegal and your boss is piece of shit, or you’re waiting to make eye contact so you can start preaching social justice, hashtag me too yadayada, don’t smoke whatever campaign, in which case, yeah — i’m trying to go to hell quicker, message received.   ❞       //. @deathspinner​

she does not believe in coincidences, for they do not exist in her world. however, as she steps out of the office building, ready to blend in to the endless crowd that roams the streets of new york city, atropos’ eyes land on a man — and she stops in her tracks. seeing him here is unexpected, yet not entirely unsurprising, considering the dysfunctional predicament axel and odette, as they are called in this existence, have found themselves in.

“my boss’ character is eccentric. that much is correct.” atropos admits, amusement tugging the corners of her lips upward ( what a coincidence that the description is apt for sonya’s boss and her own ). “but i consider preaching little more than a waste of my valuable time.” she continues as she, with confident steps, walks until she is standing right beside him. “i do not need followers for my cause. its foundation is stronger than the feeble minds of people.”

call it the awakening of some deeply hidden, thoroughly concealed,hint of familial affection, but his words elicit a true chuckle out of her. “oh i know exactly where you are going, axel byrne.” before he can object, her nimble fingers snatch his cigarette from him. she takes one brief drag before letting it fall to the ground, ready to be crushed by her heels. “tell me, is it you or odette who has done a better job of getting there?”

[deathspinner]

emberstoflames‌:  

Achilles had known him. The thought comforted Hephaestus as he leaned against the brick wall in the alleyway near his home. [ It wasn’t his home, though, was it? Brantley Flint had, for all intents and purposes, never truly existed. ]The mortal had known him and though Hephaestus was just as flustered by the fact that he’d been plucked from the afterlife, he held it in now, as the questions began to flit through his mind as his own memories were filed alongside those of a man who had no reason to be there.

He ran his hand along his beard, growing angrier by the moment. Hephaestus, the god of fire, was used to the wires of his beard lighting spontaneously, the flames turning blue and white the angrier he got. There were no flames now and the longer he thought of what he had lost, the angrier he became. The god relaxed against the brick once more, closing his eyes as his hand tightened along his jawline. It seemed fair to reason that this was not his father’s doing; Zeus would likely have been crowing at his victory and Hephaestus liked to believe that his father cared for him more than some of the others. It was likely untrue, but he had always been blind when it came to the king of the gods.

The woman who saw him was unfamiliar and he straightened, aware that his powers no longer belonged to him. His eyes narrowed and he kept his breathing slow [ and oh, how he hated that he was breathing at all ] and steady. “I’m fine,” he replied to the woman, his voice taut as the threads of life. Brantley had been controlled but Hephaestus had never known or needed such mortal constraints. “Just had a shock.” He attempted a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace. Hephaestus’ eyes flashed and his next words were meant to be kind, though kindness had never been his friend. “It’s not safe out here,” he ground out.

there is nothing subtle about the way her eyes take in every detail of hephaestus’ form; she studies, constantly notes facts and files them away for later use. she does not hide the fact that she is assessing him. perhaps it will earn her a curious raise of brows, or a demanding inquiry as to what she is doing. the corner of atropos’ lips curl upward at the thought. oh how will it frustrate them ( not just the god of fire before her — every significant person she will meet is likely to react this way ) to be judged with no way to shield themselves. how uncomfortable, humiliating even, will it be for them to be scrutinized under the intense gaze of a law student ( or so they think ).

“you don’t look fine.” atropos tilts her head, her brows furrowing briefly as she makes her final judgment regarding his appearance. “you look like shit.” a rude, almost callous statement would surely earn horrified gasps from mortal onlookers. it is, after all, a general guideline of mortals to exhibit kindness and polite behaviour when interacting with strangers, but she has never been one to consider the feelings of others when she decides something. “definitely shocked.” she continues as she straightens her posture once more, and, with calculated steps, strides toward the immortal whose fire had, at least for now, diminished into nothing but ash. “are you absolutely certain you don’t require my assistance? i think you’d be surprised by what i can do.” 

before she can even expect a response to her question, hephaestus ( or the image of brantley he still attempts to maintain ) opens his mouth and speaks. for a moment afterwards, atropos is silent; but then, sonya’s laughter rings loud and clear in the new york city’s night air. “we are in new york, sir. i have been here for a good while and i have yet to encounter anything worthy of my fright.” easy for her to say when she is not subjected to the same shackles as he. “but if there is something i should fear, do share.” the slanted curve of her lips is half-amused, half-curious. “how refreshing would it be if i was actually scared.”

[deathspinner]

adaraphillips‌: 

A day off was a rarity, blue moon in all its glory… and something that she needed. When the nights contained sprawling dreams, the kind that she couldn’t quite shake off, responsibilities slowly slipped through her fingers. There were the wrong drink orders, something she almost never messed up, not with her level of experience. Broken glasses, sparkling shards glittering under the lights of Cabaret as they signaled another mistake. For once, the distant and untouchable was getting the best of Adara Phillips. And the visions of a cold death hung behind her like a shadow, following each turn she made down the New York streets. 

Autumn wind came with a chill, tangling its invasive fingers through her hair as she wrapped her arms around her body. As if to hold together- wasn’t that what she best at? All it took was falling in step with the living monster that was the city and she could will herself to ignore everything else (though whether that was successful remained a mystery). She’d almost mindlessly been finding her way, a disconnect between head and body until the spell was broken by a voice. Into her version came a woman, a confident air surrounding her… and something else. Something ominous, like storm clouds hanging in the sky. Adara’s gaze followed her movement where it landed on a couple. “I’m not really one for predicting the future…” She replied with each word dipped in a hollow distance before she let out a small breath. Emerald hues looked back at the woman, an insouciant raise of her shoulders mirroring her words. “They’ll probably go their separate ways, strangers in ten years- I don’t know.” 

atropos and her sisters have been the puppeteers of pain, architects of agony, designers of destruction in the lives of many. they all, but especially she, are untouched and therefore unaffected by it all. however, the same cannot be said about the woman before her. eurydice ( or adara, as she still thinks of herself ), poor eurydice has been through a lot and as far as she knows, this new existence has not been significantly kinder to her. a ghost of a smile tugs the corners of her lips upward. she may not know the truth of herself or sonya, but if she did, the aggression level visible in the woman’s demeanor would surely see a rapid increase. 

“that is the beauty of predicting the future of complete strangers.” she is not surprised by this rather dull, unimaginative response from adara, but she will not let it stop her. if she wants her answer, she will get it. “you don’t have to be a clairvoyant, much less an accurate one. just think of something, say the first scenario that comes to your mind out loud, and there you have it.” it is not as if something as feeble as a prediction made by a single mortal makes any difference the grand scheme of things. 

“here, let me show you.” an unusual touch of friendliness laces sonya’s voice when she speaks. she fixes the focus of her gaze on the couple, a veil of intense determination shielding her true expression, before she blinks and the smile is back. “i say they get married in three years, have twins in five years, move out of the city just before the kids start kindergarten, and live happily ever after.” mortals do love those idealistic fantasies of theirs, do they not?

“see, it wasn’t so bad.” sonya laughs amicably. “do you want to try now? or do you want more inspiration because trust me,”—and now atropos smiles as well—“i have heard some rather innovative ideas over the years.”

[diablocodys]

- tahereh mafi, IGNITE ME

[deathspinner]

phemeandfortune‌: 

Ella considered the world her own personal runway. No one lead her to believe anything else, and so, after leaving her office for the day, she decided to take a stroll. A stroll, in Ella’s case, normally meant “which normal, everyday joe shmoe will give me the most attention today?” It also meant a cigarette, if she was particularly stressed out, and an excuse to wear a jaunty beret on top of her perfectly coiffed locks, especially as the weather was getting colder.

Her own heels clicked and clicked, but she soon found her stop, her body itching for a craving. She fished her monogrammed lighter out of her bag, and found a Lucky Strike, quickly taking an inhale, blowing smoke. Through the haze, she noticed Sonya, striking her way. She knew Sonya was the intimidating sort, and Ella wouldn’t discount that. She also knew, however, that she was just as intimidating in kind, and so she herself wouldn’t present any notion of fear. 

She looked over to the couple, chuckling a bit at Sonya’s question. “Them? Definitely divorce. One of them wants children, and the other won’t compromise, possibly due to a career choice. He gets the cat, she gets the dog, and they go their separate ways. She finds new love, with someone willing to let her put her dreams first, and he ends up moving back home, humiliated.” She grinned. “That was fun, hm?”

by principle, the moirai did not frequent the company of the gods often, much less befriend them. considering they are in possession of the countless fates constantly being born and ending, they are far too busy to indulge in frivolities such as friendship. however, atropos would not deny one thing. whether she enjoys it or not, she does associate herself with some gods more so than others, for they rule over things which are intricately intertwined with the person’s fate. 

one such goddess is the one standing before her, in all of her mortal glory. neither her nor sonya would call pheme or ella a friend, but atropos understands the workings of her mind better than some of the others. it is because of this that sonya lifts her eyebrows at ella’s answer. “is that all?” surprising her is no easy feat, but, she muses inside her mind, it seems it can happen every now and then. “i was expecting something more—” sonya presses her lips together, eyeing the couple with a terrifying duality ( intense focus; utter apathy ) visible in her gaze. “—scandalous.” 

she remains silent for a few additional seconds before she shrugs. “but i suppose something scandalous could follow.” sonya glances lazily in ella’s direction. “perhaps her new love turns out to be worse than this guy. or maybe history repeats itself and we see another example of a man acting out because he was rejected.” the thought summons a genuine, albeit cruel, chuckle out of her. she would have to study them a moment longer, have a conversation with lachesis, and then cast her final judgment. perhaps she could entertain ella’s ideas, but really, why should she? the sisters’ judgment has not failed, so there is no need to taint it with the opinions of others.

[deathspinner]

dlscordia‌: 

bags decorate weary eyes,        purple and deep like scars, not much to be found other than   sheer boredom  &   an insatiable apetite for something - anything - to begin.   she counts the ticks of her clock,  rolling the rusty wheel of a “borrowed” lighter to ignite the flames as silhouettes and blurred faces, each less interesting than the last, rush by like working ants. 

love quarrels,  greedy business partners,   insecure friends   - all those dormant volcanoes seem to erupt at the mere presence of her - as she might’ve noticed, had they not been merely voices in a crowd. they all pass by, paying little attention, blissfully unaware that wherever she, streaks pale as silver and dollish mouth sucked into a prideful sneer, sets foot to, the world crumbles like a wall of dominoes. 

she nips at her cigarette like it’s a chew toy, breaking paper  &  tasting the poison between her teeth, toying with it before puffing out a cloud of smoke up into the air.

“   them?   ”

she’d barely stopped to take a proper at the instructing voice, directing full attention to the lovebirds across the street;  with their fingers entwined and heart-shaped eyes… it gives all too much room for her imagination to twist and chew this idea into bits.

“    hm .     oh… you know.   they get married, buy a house… try for kids. eventually the wife cancer, and he just can’t stand her coughing and whining, so suddenly the girl back at his office starts to look like much better company  —- he starts to come home late, she notices, but doesn’t say anything.   one day she finds his computer open… she confronts him two weeks later. he says he’s leaving her — she says “how can you do that to me now?!”   he turns to leave… she pushes him down the stairs.  ”

you could almost see the shadow of a smile, yet an overall calm  &  causality to her grim speech.

“   the police comes over… she cries, plays the cancer card. they never find out.   she takes the secret to her grave.    ”

the gods and mortals — they are all the same in her eyes. the divinity may each rule over a specific concept and thus fancy themselves superior to non-divine beings, but when you literally control their lives & fate? whether the gods approve or not, their significance in the grand scheme of things diminishes significantly. that is why atropos does not play favorites; that is why she keeps her distance from their games until it is necessary to intervene. 

but, just like with mortals, she observes them every now and then. some less frequently, for their essence is more stable by nature and therefore there are less new things to observe. and then there are beings such as the one standing before her. even though she is trapped inside this mortal body, she has remained utterly faithful to her true self; even if she has not realized it herself. eris and corona may seemingly be a total antithesis to atropos and sonya, but she has always delighted in the unchanging nature of being. 

“that is rather grim.” the seriousness of her response is betrayed by the amused curve of her lips. “grim, but delightfully different from the usual one.” yet exactly what she expected from corona. 

her eyes flicker to the cigarette resting on the woman’s lips. “can i have one?” smoking is yet another mortal activity that she would refuse to partake in if she was alone. right now, though, she is someone’s company ( whether corona recognizes it as such ), and she intends to blend in, go unnoticed by the divine powers at least a bit longer. sonya holds out her hand, open palm expectantly waiting for the other to place a cigarette on it. 

“if your guess is true,”—she will have to check—“i can only imagine how thrilling the sequel would be. especially if there was a lone cop who suspected her.” a chuckle, uncharacteristically soft and carefree, leaves her lips. “he would end up dancing on the edge of madness because who would dare to question the claims of a terminally ill woman.” 

[deathspinner]

hermioneteleia‌: 

The corner of her lips quirks upwards at the mention of a bet and seeing them in the office. Normally, Hermione is not the kind to place bets on such matters, but she feels tempted the moment Sonya gives her own prediction of whats to come for the young couple. She takes another long look at them, slightly nodding to herself as she makes up her mind.

“I say six years and agree on your cheating prediction coming from one of them. They’ll hate each other and fight over who keeps the pets as they see them as their own children.” It is then that her true attention falls on the animals, a fleeting sensation of compasion towards them coursing through her. But it is over just as quickly as it comes to her, leaving her puzzled. She’ll reflect on it later, if she has both the time and patience to dwell on it.

She looks back at Sonya, brow raised at the invitation. Still, Hermione finds herself nodding in agreement. “Let’s go, then.” With one final look at their future clients, if they’re both correct in their predictions, she turns on her heels and starts walking towards the nearest coffee shop. “We had a client who apparently was unable to tell his wife and her identical twin sister apart one night. The wife caught them, and the sister got pregnant. Both of them sued him, the wife filed for divorce and the sister is seeking alimoney, for the yet unborn child.” A simple summary of one of the most amusing cases the firm had to deal with in the past year, a pity Sonya had missed it in her opinion. “To my knowledge, the sisters cannot be in the same room anymore without fighting each other the moment their eyes meet.” She adds as an afterthought, just as she opens the door of the coffee shop to let Sonya walk in first.

“how very tragic.” sonya deadpans after hermione has laid out her suggestion for what is awaiting this young couple in the future. “i suppose i could feel bad for them, but since it is their misery that will get me my paycheck, i won’t.” a cold approach to the world, she knows, but nothing will ever change her opinion — and what she knows of hermione, the woman is more likely to agree with her than disagree. perhaps the couple is destined for happiness ( she will have to check ), or perhaps their suggestions are correct. either way, it is not as if she truly cares. tragedy has colored unions of all sorts since the dawn of time. they are not the first couple to end up with an unfortunate marriage, and they will not be the last ones. that, she thinks, is the beauty of inevitability.

the couple is discarded ( not forgotten; she will, after all, meet them again at a later point of their lives ), and sonya promptly follows hermione as they begin to head toward the coffee shop. the description once again summons a genuine chuckle. “he sounds like proper husband material.” sonya shakes her head in mock-disbelief. “what does he claim? intoxication? stress?”—two excuses men seem to be highly fond of these days—“or was it the good old ‘it’s not my fault, ma’am. she seduced me!’?”

hermione’s polite gesture earns a quick flash of a smile from sonya as she steps past her, now inside the coffee shop. it can hardly be described as cozy and comforting, but that aesthetic hardly appealed to the main demographic of the customers ( no-nonsense professionals ) frequenting this place. sonya’s eyes scan the brief drinks menu, and a humming sound slips past her lips. “i think i’ll go with latte.” she murmurs, half to herself, half to make hermione aware of her choice. “so, about the sisters.” sonya continues, her chatting providing her boss a moment to consider what she may want. “should we invite them to the office at the same time? i think frank from security would enjoy the drama. poor man looks as if he’s mere seconds away from falling asleep every time i see him.”