destroy the idea that i will ever calm down
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@dicmedes
destroy the idea that i will ever calm down
atlasxrose·:
Atlas considered all that he had done, all that his hands had carried out at the behest of another. The witch could spend the rest of his life working towards doing good, or being just, or being fair, but there were some things that were too grave to simply put an X in front of. Still, he would not confide as much in a stranger. “It’s not for Them, but for me.” Atlas offered, the Gods could play whatever games they wished, whatever had occurred within that temple, even they had been blinded to. Still, he could tell that this one was fond of hearing himself speak, a trait that this Diomedes and Xander clearly shared. It worked out, since Atlas was eternally fond of asking questions.
“Well met Diomedes, but Hephaestion was laid to rest, he goes by Xander now.” The oracle corrected, “And I can assure you, he is well, but as I’ve said, not here.” He could not shake the thought that they were running the risk of talking in circles, Xander was not here, but obviously he was well, he was vampire, and they rarely changed. The witch could brag that they had moved in together, were happily enjoying this phase of their relationship, but Atlas did not see the need to do so, nor did he believe that was the information that Diomedes was seeking. He wondered if Diomedes knew of Xander’s search for a cure, and innately, Atlas became suspicious. No doubt Hektor’s extremists would have no love for a vampire who was seeking to find a cure for themselves. “Is that all?”
The few decades of unwilling human life were a blip, gone with a wink of his eye. But there was always a new generation to charm or steer with his methods. That is, until there wasn’t. The last line of seers he had pursued through the centuries perished abruptly. A greater inconvenience, and a near prophetic one at that. You will be dead soon enough. Still, he didn’t charm himself with thinking he had authority over death. If that were true, Cometes would have been run into the earth and he would be more concerned with his own ending than that of the cubi’s.
"No.” His mouth was sharp and blunt. Diomedes did not care for lyrics when there was a promise before him. “Though for Xander, that is enough for the time being.” In fact, he had never forgotten what Hephaestion looked like. Were his eyes blue or black? His hair was some sort of light colored shag. He was well enough and that was all he processed. “I’m curious, seer. Do you entertain the questions of wanderers like your generations of predecessors?”
pcndoras·:
She supposes it was only natural for the vrykolakas to seek her out eventually, after everything that has come to pass. Pandora imagines that he hasn’t been having the easiest time in the city, thanks to the newfound hatred for vampires that’s spreading among the victims of Persephone’s cult. Idly, she wonders if any have already fallen to vengeful hands, regardless or whether they actually served the goddess or not. Not Diomedes, though. The ancient king has survived far too much to be taken down in the crossfire of something not even of his construction. As such, it was only a matter of time before their paths crossed again. “And so you’ve found me, then.”
She scowls at his attempt at provocation, but cannot muster a true force behind it. “There’s great deal that requires my attention, Dio. I’m afraid if you’ve come for entertainment, there is little I can give you today. Unless you’d like a parting gift.” Vampires do not hold the same weak immune system that humans do, but that just makes things more fun, and unconventional. Still, Pandora is not even sure she would take much enjoyment out of it right now, and that truly speaks more than anything to the fact that she has been perturbed by Epimetheus’s abrupt return to her life.
No matter the time of their overlap, there was always the little dance of threats, lest one of them forget his calibre of immortality was not as glorified. “Not yet.” Even when the time comes, if it ever does, he doesn’t think he would like to be snuffed out by pestilence, like Markus fearing the common cold. No. He needed to go out with a bang. Maybe stand on the precipice of his sea side tomb and wait for some infuriated god to run a spear through his chest.
“You are on edge.” When he speaks, it’s a matter of fact. “It seems even your lot do not have the privilege of weaving blissfully between the living and dead.” It was becoming more and more apparent that pure bliss existed for none, not even the god-born or god-crafted; especially not the god-loved. “That does not bode well for me, considering your service long outlives mine.” Scarcely four decades of a mortal life. He has not praised gods since the blood in his veins was fresh.
mylesxdelian·:
Myles had to laugh, the Argive was far more arrogant than his condition should have permitted, but former glories seemed to be all he had left to cling to. “More likely he has forgotten about you entirely, on a whim he could sever you from the veil entirely, end your - effective immortality - Athena so kindly gifted you with.” A light jab, the curse of the vrykolakas was just that, a curse. A work of Persephone’s deception, immortal, sure, but he could be easily killed, and the vampiric hunger for blood was far from a blessing. “But, at least those who were mortal, or were once, will remember you. That’s something.” The rift offered, divinity had once been his aim, a seat on Mount Olympus, a place among the stars. Plans change, unfortunately. “The stories painted me as Apollo’s consort, Hyacinth.” He smiled “One of many.” he glanced about the empty temple, “But Myles feels much more modern, whichever pleases you,” The rift gestured to a seat, “Join me.”
One of many. “Oh, yes.” He did not say anything more. He did not laugh about him being known for more than the mere want of a god. Already the obviousness of their histories lingered between them. And true as it might be, he was also blessed- if it could ever be called a blessing. Being wanted by a god had helped to shape him, for better and for worse. Godhood had been within reach once, so close in fact Athena had already taken to anointing him with ambrosia while he slept. Her two Olympian brothers had grown desperate by then, plucking their fingers at the strays of his life’s thread, looking for the one that would unravel his divine fate.
The correction was sharp. “Fathers do not forget.” How many demigods had fallen at Troy? Innumerable. How many at Diomedes’ own hand? Well, be it his blade or not, he was guilty by association. That was the only thing that joined him to the brother gods; a pain so awful it does not have a name. “And if what it takes to murder the one who didn’t understand this means I will stay and rot for eternity, then I will carry out my lot with grace.” Besides, what was beyond this? Elysium? Peace? Diomedes had never known peace in his life; he would not know what to do with it. “Hyacinth is the name your father gave you, yes?” He had long lost the want for a psudeonym. “That is what you ought to be called.”
mylesxdelian·:
“You and I have that in common then,” The rift offered, “Take a seat, or have you come to make an offering to Apollo as well?” Myles offered, he had no qualms with vampires, their business was entirely their own, and they would likely all be dead soon enough anyways. Without the veil, there would be nothing else to sustain their immortal lifespan. He continued to pluck a few notes from the melody, determined to get it right before he presented it to his patron. It had been over three thousand years since the God had first taught him how to play the lyre, and Apollo was fond of reminding him of how he may have played beautifully, his singing was absolutely atrocious. The casual glance he had spared the vampire made him look again, he smiled, on the few occasions that Hyacinth had looked from Elysium to the mortal plain, the Trojan War had been among them. Mostly to catch a glimpse of Apollo in his glory. “Diomedes. I’d heard you were still alive - well - in a manner of speaking,” the Argive had once wounded Ares himself with a spear, while Athena had turned her back on him, no doubt a celebration still awaited the Greek hero in Elysium. “now you must sit.”
The Argive snorted. “My offering is that he is far from my cares. It is far better for all that I and that cowardly, curly-haired pimp of a bowman do not cross paths. He knows this exceedingly well, and that is why he has left me in peace. He hasn’t been able to talk any god into shielding him again should he irritate me. His elder brother has a nasty scar across his belly to remind him of that poor decision.” He scrunched his nose slightly. “The sword is still stained; ichor is not easy to scrub off.”
Not to mention it was a toxic substance to mortals. In essence, to wound a god was to let loose a seething mass of poison. But in Diomedes’ view, that was what the shield was for. And after a time the issue of cleaning it had left him completely. It was a golden memento from that time on the once stainless beach. At any rate- he figured he should be more concerned at the moment about the origin of recognition. “So you know me-” He obliged in being seated. “But who exactly are you?”
mylesxdelian·:
The melody was a new one, Patroclus and Psyche were off enjoying the festivities, and while Myles would join them later - he first wished to pay homage to patron. Patroclus told him he should be grateful for the God’s blessing, that he should learn to cherish what was great and beautiful about this new world - and while he failed to do the latter, the former was something that the rift could manage. A shadow fell over him where he sat with his back against a pillar, “You’re standing in my light, or did you plan on singing for me?”
The costumes, the ribbons, the roar of idling chatter- it was the closest the world came to resuscitating the events of the past. But it was not enough, and it was not real. The time that had built him into who he was had passed, and now lived only as an antiquity. Something to be debated about in academic halls, or else reinterpreted on modern city streets. Truthfully, he had never attended such a festival in Corinthia when it was a part of its time, so he had nothing to compare it to other than the wine festivals of Argos.
The sun was the same. At least he still had Helios and Selene taking to their chariots and streaming across the sky. But the warmth was separated by his skin by something else, something wrong. Only by devouring Cometes’ blood was he even able to stand in it. “I prefer to embrace what I do well,” he said in passing. “So no- I will not be singing.”
@mylesxdelian·
there’s nothing more satisfying than the sound of hitting someone solid in the fucking jaw.
opheliancano·:
“Names, then. Any and all that you have.” And it better not just be Hektor, if the vampire is smart enough to know what is good for him. She is still not quite certain she believes his tale of not being involved with the cult, but there is enough doubt for the fury to stay her hand for now. Even as she paces like a caged lion across the alleyway, something seething and deadly looking for the opportunity to strike. To trust a vampire at his word would be foolish for Ophelia, but it’s a delicate balance between righteous fury and indiscriminate anger. The constant pressure inside her chest when around his kind does nothing to help, the feeling that this is a creature of death and ruin.
Rowan. It’s a sort of instant relief that fills Ophelia. She’s already see the phoenix, knows first hand the woman is alive and well — as well as anyone can be, after what was endured. “You are fortunate she is still in such a state.” Had she not been, Ophelia would take his head right here and now for it. “They sent you for the phoenix? No one else?” Is that truly his only involvement? To bring a woman to a hotel? It’s times such as these she wishes she could have more than just her gut to rely on, to differentiate between lies and truth. She could take a look inside his head, perhaps, but her powers have always been more suited towards altering memories than truly reading them.
And so this is her dilemma. To strike against a vampire who refused their association would no doubt only please the cult. She cannot imagine Persephone nor Hektor would take such a slight lightly — perhaps that is why they used compulsion? If everything Diomedes says is the truth, of course. He could very well be lying trying to save his own skin from a fury’s vengeance. If she lets him go, and he goes on to harm for the goddess again, is that blood on her hands? “Swear to me now, that you have no other association with them. And know that if I find it to be a lie, there is not a force on this earth that can protect you from me.”
“I remember him greeting me, I remember leaving the hotel, and that is all. But I recognized her scent on me, as well as that of moss and groves. My rope was missing.” He remembered the initial walk through his marble foyer. The display case was open. “I put two and two together, so to speak.” Something was amiss, but he hadn’t been entirely sure what. “But that is it. I knew nothing of their intentions or what would come to pass until it was happening, better yet, until after. Even now, I am still fuzzy on some details. But you say that the girl lives? That is good.”
He exhaled hotly through his nostrils and folded his arms across his chest. But the indignation was more for show than anything else. He was not yet completely comfortable with trying a Fury. “Yes, I say it’s good that she survived. Are you shocked that I might have reformed to not sacrifice a person who has never bothered me? If that’s the case, I do not know whether I’ve disappointed or pleased you.” Though he suspected with her character, it was far more likely the latter.
He dropped his hands. “Hektor is their leader and Persephone’s darling. But there is another, a new second in command if you will, called Antony.” He had usurped the position from his remade mortal brother, or Diomedes was inclined to believe so with Markus having fallen. Antony had not even deemed him worth killing, now only human and witch. “And there is something else- they are after Patroclus, my former comrade, who has been sent to cure the plague of Persephone’s curse.”
But information was no longer enough to appease her. She wanted oaths and vows now. How long had it been since anyone thought to ensnare him? Maybe he had underestimated her, but that did not mean he could not outdo her. “I will do you one better. I will swear it upon the River Styx if you require it.” He raised his right hand. “As you know Fury, that is an unbreakable oath; the cause of death for Helios’ darling Phaethon.”
You Give Love A Bad Name (1986)
markusxcamlann·:
The depiction of cruelty inherently brought a smile to the witch’s face, he had no doubt that Diomedes would see his vengeance fulfilled, he wondered what sort of half-life Cometes must live, knowing that the Greek pursued him all this time. “Turn over enough rocks, and you’re certain to find a slug underneath.” Markus offered, he had never learned why it was that Diomedes hunted this incubus, but he did not need to, it was the vampire’s vengeance to be had, and as Markus had learned, a man was nothing if he did not have purpose.
“I’m not so sure,” Markus stated simply, “he found me, here, to paraphrase, I was no longer worth killing.” The vampire said idly, “Antony is someone who will not admit it, but has always needed someone to follow. He resented me for becoming king, but if he’d ever had the power he would not have known what to do with it. I fear he will follow Hektor to his death, and perhaps it is better that way. I resurrected his mortal corpse once through dark magic, I wonder sometimes if it would have been a greater kindness to let my brother rest in peace.” Antony had been turned shortly after, just as Markus had, at the battle that claimed both of their lives. There was a piece of him that hoped his brother might still be saved, but despite whatever affection they held for one another, they had always been even more at odds.
“The one and the same.” Markus offered as Diomedes repeated the name, his tone serious, the implication was clear, that there were forces within Corinth far older and far more powerful than even the vrykolakas, or the original shifters themselves. “His power was unlike anything I’ve ever known, God-like, he was able to turn me mortal with just a touch. I do not know why Hektor pursues him, but I know Persephone despises him, and Nyx, for their power to unmake her curse.” Markus stated simply, “At the very least I must continue to play nice should Hektor seek me out, but I’ve no intention of aligning myself with anyone.”
“If he was able to do this with just a simple touch, then the intent is clear. Persephone does not want to her creatures eradicated; cured from her spiteful affliction. She wants to put an end him before the rest of us discover there might be a choice.” To be free of this. “I’m sure there are many, far more willing than I, to line up and have their mortality restored, and she would be left with nothing, then. She would be foiled once and for all. The gods have brought him here to see if he will be able to outwit Hektor and undo her work.”
Maybe Zeus was honoring his brother’s request to see his unwilling bride muzzled at last. In another time, in another place, with other wants and needs, perhaps he could have sympathized with Persephone. She had told him once that she would welcome being alone, welcome being free from it all at last. But misery loves company. If her soul was in a cage, she wanted others to experience the same. Diomedes might have been the only vrykolakas in the world that was not entirely miserable over his existence.
Well, with the exception of- “Hektor will return, like a moth to the flame or a maggot to a corpse, so long as Patroclus lingers. He’ll track him to the end of the world if he must. I was a wanted man once. If you stand alone, you have to be wiley. You have an opportunity to get out from under his eye, and use the distraction to build your strength.” The further Markus was from Patroclus, the more leeway he had to avoid Hektor. As for Diomedes, his own motives had gone muddy. Was this for Patroclus or for Markus or for them both? “You may want to consider leaving Corinthia.”
xrowansmithx·:
Rowan lived through a blood cast horror show, getting up each damn day was a testament to itself and sleep had long evaded her as Hektor haunted her room and her heart beat more rapidly with the descent of nightfall as it meant another night was coming where she would struggle through with anxiety and depression present in each beat of her heart. She wished to take the heaviness off, it didn’t provide any positive to her life and the world was a struggle before she went through such a traumatizing ordeal, it’s why she needs more from him. She was held in a cave like lambs for the slaughter, being fed vile vampire blood and being sick every hour. The hallucinations played havoc enough and her sanity had slipped, being pushed far enough, it was hard to tell what she would do.
“You were chosen to take me. How? How did they manage to control you enough for kidnapping, I think that it was entirely your doing because who the fuck else would try to lasso a phoenix?” Azure irises stay bold and they stay trained on him, she was prepared for a fight, it didn’t matter how many times she got knocked down, she would always come back with her teeth bared, she was called to this city to be a protector after all. “I think you present an ultimate threat to this city, give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rid the city of you.”
“Hektor found me,” he said, as if that were explanation enough. “I was compelled to bring you, intact, to the hotel Delphi. I don’t remember how it happened exactly, but it seems I was successful.” Given that you’re peeved. Diomedes did well to hide the impressment. He had not taken to his lasso since those days of wringing men’s necks from chariots. Ah. Memories. “Truly, I know nothing beyond this. I am not affiliated with Hektor or his band of misfit toys.”
A growl hitched at the back of his throat, and his teeth ground. Any show of empathy and piety was forgotten. Perhaps it was the hot blood of his sire, perhaps it was because Argives by nature don’t take to being threatened. Especially their ancient king. “One good reason? Very well. Have this: far better men and women than you, in the span of thousands of years, have threatened me just the same. Go and look for them now.” Even their monuments have withered away.
He made himself ease. Bristling and leaping for a jugular would not serve him well, not if he intended on keeping the Fury by his side. “If you’re inclined to accept a less violent reason, then have this: I didn’t act on my own accord, and everything was peaceful all the time I’ve been here.” Well, maybe not everything. But he won’t accept responsibility for foolishness. He doesn’t meddle in what doesn’t aid him. “Further, have you forgotten that we share a common enemy?”
MARK CONSUELOS
RIVERDALE Lynchian
atlasxrose·:
Diomedes reminded Atlas of the kind of arrogant poise that Isaac and his associates carried themselves with, the witch tried not to let it get to him but the vampire was making several points, yet none of them were of value, nor did they answer the oracle’s question. He wondered if this was why Xander hadn’t really mentioned him or if there was something underlying that the witch did not see yet.
“As Oracle to the Delphi, the Gods send me messages, and my power allows me to interpret their will, unfortunately, that does not mean I see everything.” Atlas commented easily, “My lament was that I was not able to help more than I was able, but, my gifts have afforded me the capacity to help people in other ways. Finding things of importance that they’ve lost, people that have been taken, missing persons, I’ve saved friends, family, strangers - but in the face of the will of the Gods, I am still only mortal.” Atlas gestured towards the tapestry that Diomedes seemed so keen on eyeing, “Take Scylla’s murder for example,” the witch offered, “I saw her enter the temple that night, but by the time I notified the Chief of Police, she was already dead - I do not know why the Gods chose to show me, but I know it has to do with the scales you and I were sporting, and I know that whatever happened within, was hidden even to Them.” Atlas held his hand up to show the scar that remained visible on the back of his hand.
“My name is Atlas, and Xander, is not some acquaintance, he is the moon when I’m lost in the darkness, the warmth when I shiver in the cold.” The witch offered, “So, you’ll excuse me if I’m protective. Now, before I call you friend I’d first know your name, and your reason for seeking him out.”
“The first oracles belonged to the Titanides Themis and then Phoebe, perhaps the blindspots are ripples stemming from their ill-fortune.” Phoebe’s dear husband was cast into the pit of Tartarus alongside his warring brothers, and her daughters had been made sorrowful by the new gods. If there were any reason at all to spread thin knowledge of the future and watch the instruments of Prometheus run amuck, Diomedes assumed he needn’t look further than that. Immortals, especially Titans, are nothing without their grudges.
Mortals, he groaned inwardly. Always thinking they deserve to be rewarded simply for being obedient. “Do not trouble yourself over trying to understand the actions of the gods. They showed you this only because it is something they are capable of. They merely wanted to see what would become of doing so. They do not care what you have done or who you have saved. They do not care if you think you are good. It is their lot to fill eternity with whims and toys. Mortal is synonymous with chess piece.”
He wanted to laugh again, but not necessarily at the fantastical lyrics. Protection? You will be dead soon enough. But he doesn’t say the words, not aloud anyway. He knew better now than to make his tongue loose and beckon the Keres. The last mortal he had spoken them to had died horrifically at the hands of her own nephew. What a mess that would be to explain to Xander. “Diomedes,” he said. “A pleasure to meet you, seer.” And ordinarily, I’d tell you to go to Hades for thinking you can question me. But the tide had turned abruptly, since the revelation had him thinking this one could be useful. “I have come merely to inquire if Hephaestion is well.”
pcndoras:
After millennium upon millennium walking this earth, there is scarcely a memory Pandora can recall of being this shaken. As she peruses the damage that was done to her shop, it’s only halfheartedly, her mind still spinning with new information. Epimetheus. Her husband. How long has it been since she has last seen his face? Yet he comes, like a ghost, a voice in the dark that spoke to her and her alone. It leaves a twisted sensation deep inside her gut, of feelings long since thought dead and pushed aside — Guilt? Care? Longing? She cannot place them. For just a moment, Pandora had been new again, three thousand years younger in her naivety, while her husband pledged his devotion even after she laid her curses upon those mortals he claimed to love so dearly. But she is not that girl anymore, and even if he is still that man, it does not matter. What matters now is the task ahead of them, the whispers he gave her. Fix the veil. The sound of footsteps approaching register somewhere in Pandora’s mind, even if it is not enough to completely bring her out of her reverie. “Whatever you want, you won’t find it here.” She says simply, though her tone betrays her distracted thoughts, not even a bite of edge to it.
Diomedes wanted to laugh out loud at the immediate rebuke. How many times had he heard those exact words from an unwilling source’s mouth? A stray cubi, a seeing witch; the elder Ava Mokri herself before her untimely demise. “And how do you know it wasn’t you I was seeking? Or is that a talent you didn’t tell me about- seeing into a mind’s eye.” Though he figured such an ability would be rather redundant in the case of Pandora, who cut through armor and skin all the same with her unshrinking eyes and blunt tongue.
But there was something interesting happening before him and all at once, he forgot exactly why had come in the first place. Maybe to up the stock on his favorite tea, because that would make sense. But Diomedes was a fickle thing, and something else had caught his eye. Pandora was not herself, not as keen in her flint sharpness. Nor was entirely cut through and unbound. Rather, she looked as though she had been plucked at; something had pulled at a wayward string in an effort to see her unraveled. “You might still be right,” he said. “for It seems you are far far away from here.”
markusxcamlann·:
Diomedes and his quest to find his Cometes·was a familiar one, wherever the vampire pursued, questions after the cubi had always followed. Markus had understood what it meant at one point to be so consumed by his desires that it eclipsed all else, he’d have known if Arthur’s life had ended prematurely, he’d have known if another had seized the sword that Markus had once sworn would be his own.·“Then he must yet live, I hope you’re able to find him, and he suffers the fate he deserves. Tell me, what do you intend to do when you finally track him down?”
This magic would not restrain him forever, for all of the genasi’s tricks, Markus had played this game centuries prior. He knew what it would take to break it.·“I have magic of my own now, all I require is one or two more witches, perhaps a werewolf, somehow I doubt she’ll have made it simple to break. But, it will break, just the same.” Markus spoke with certainty, despite the screaming that rang in his ears, the eidolon that followed him was a new curse, one that even he was familiar with. But he would find a way to dispel that spirit also.·
“He promised my death if I failed him, I could return to trying to get the thing he was after - Patroclus’ blood - or I can prepare myself for an inevitable confrontation.” The original vampire was not easily slighted, and Markus would be smart to try and make himself at least appear valuable.·“Antony has wished me dead for years, if Hektor told him to murder me, I have no doubt he’d carry out that man’s will.”
Diomedes stared into the black earth, a spectator to an event unseen; a fantastical event that he was determined would come to pass. “Imprison him, starve him, then slowly drain the blood from his body once he’s weak enough to feel it leaving his veins. When I’m satisfied, I’ll enlist a shifter to finish the job. I’m not entirely without compassion; he’ll die when I allow it.” But that did not necessarily mean he would make it swift. Months. Years. Decades. Centuries. How long would he let him heal only to malnourish him again? He couldn’t say.
Immortals are nothing without their grudges. They were all that was left when everything else fell away. Or perhaps not in the case of Markus, who had reserves of magic lingering in his remade mortal veins. At least he was able to have some sort of comfort, some sort of power to withstand the oncoming battles. Diomedes decided if Markus did not care for the genasi’s curse, then he would let the issue drop.
As for the family issue- “Yet here you are,” he said. “So either Antony is biding his time, or he has renounced his claim over your demise altogether. Perhaps you made progress during your time together.” That was oddly optimistic, even for the Argive. But if Antony had any wits about him at all, he would see how willingly Hektor had thrown Markus to the crows, and be advised against any sort of loyalty for him.
And then abruptly, the wiley vampire was struck dumb. “Patroclus?”
He remembered those days in Troy; the endless supply of sand in their greaves, the sharpening of spear points over fire and wine- mocking Agamemnon’s worthlessness alongside Achilles and Odysseus. Most of all perhaps, he remembered Athena’s subtle and chaste visitations. Patroclus. He will die. She had said it as simply as she commanded the death of the young Troilus. He will die. Don’t you see? It needs to be done. When he had visited the body, he learned it was Thetis who had put ambrosia in the dead man’s nose to keep the rot at bay. She had come as swiftly as Athena had departed with her forty-nine sisters in tow.
“Patroclus,” he repeated. The name was uncomfortably familiar. “You say that Hektor seeks his blood? For what purpose?” He corrected himself, shifting his face back to passive. It was probably for the best not to appear vexed.·“If he is anything like I remember, you would do better to make an ally of him than give into Hektor.”
atlasxrose:
Atlas could really only think of one person who the vampire could be referring to, the shop had not even truly opened yet, while he had a soft launch planned for his family and friends, that was still days away. Absently the witch recalled the psychotic progeny that Xander had mentioned as his friend, the other an even older vampire than he. The witch struggled to grasp how anyone could be that old, but he did not know the person in front of him well enough to tease him on the subject.
“You must mean Xander.” Atlas offered, “He’s not here, and I’m sorry, but you’re not welcome to wait here for him until he returns. It’s late, and we’re closed. Maybe you could try him at work?” The witch suggested, he did not know the nature of this vampire’s relationship with his boyfriend, were he psychotic progeny, pompous elder, or some other breed of relation that Atlas had yet to learn about. Facts remained the same, they were closed, and the oracle was nobody’s messenger. “Unless there’s something I can do for you?”
What a shame to live in such inhospitable times. A subtle scrunch of his nose juxtaposed with the curl of his lip. “Pity,” Diomedes sniped. Not that he cared much to linger there. That tapestry on the left, it was an eyesore at any rate. Certainly the weaver here was far from approaching the skill of Pallas Athena. But he was wise enough not to give into hubris; he’d be a bug otherwise. Not to mention the scent of dog...
Oh? Something he could do? Well, offer himself to be party for the Argive’s cutting rebuke. “Oh, certainly. In fact, something occurred to me just now- I remember you.” The bar. The rapid escalation of scales over their skin. With a delicate gesture, his hand was placed over his smirking mouth. It would have been beyond rude to be seen smiling. “You were there during the storm, lamenting over your weakness.”
Alright, that’s enough of that. He cleared his throat. “Tell me friend, do you have a mark from the ordeal? I do. Better yet, what should I call you? I’m always delighted to meet an-” Ephemeral. “-acquaintance of Xander’s.”
I’m actually dramatic but that doesn’t minimize the validity of my emotions