— underworld.

[hadesrhea]

𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐀 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐔𝐒

about. skeleton. wanted connections.

[hadesrhea]

closed to @ohartemis​ location: helicon, the morning after the chaos ball

He’s not so juvenile as to not assume there are two sides to the story leaked to Pandora the prior evening, though the footage is as clear as can be: Artemis throwing a swift blow straight to Thanatos’ face in what is clearly the villa at Ogygia. It is a conundrum, especially troubling, as he’s fond of them both, and he’s not here on Helicon searching the crowds for Artemis’ face to condemn, but to search for answers. To understand. 

“Artemis.” His expression is even as he calls out to her from where he sits beneath a heavily shaded cabana. “A moment, please.”

[hadesrhea]

tyndareus·:

open to: everyone week two of the summit; after the HELE-N presentation; helicon deck

as cly stands on the edges of the crowd, his eyes follow agamemnon as he drifts around packs of what the two of them deemed important people; amon had no issue with just diving into the deep end, charming one too many faces with whatever they wanted to hear. cly can see it clearly, he smiles, they smile, he laughs, they laugh—he wouldn’t be surprised if amon’s telling one of cly’s jokes, one of many he sold him during their joint debrief this morning. still, he can’t keep his gaze away—some things never change.

just before and after the demo, the spotlight’s been mostly on his friend and cly doesn’t exactly mind—his thoughts are off doing everything but getting in order so if there were crowds of people gathering around him, eager for some insightful answers, cly would most surely fail to deliver. he probably wouldn’t even be able to answer the question of how are you. so he hope this is what the person joining him doesn’t start with. 

“hello,” he greets them, his most charming smile planted firmly on his face, plastered on so fast you couldn’t even notice the change. his fingers wrap tighter around his drink. the ice chills his skin and brings him some comfort. “how many more of these,” he lifts the glass up a little, “until it’s acceptable for me to just leave?” it’s part joke, part indication of how he feels—cly mostly tries to sell it as the former. “this is my second, mind you.”

-

“Hello, Mr. Tyndareus.” Hades turns and smiles, faint. Clytemnestra Tyndareus, COO of HELE-N, as much an enigma to Hades as Amon, but a touch more accessible at the moment. He’s momentarily surprised to hear someone so high up within the most buzzed about up-and-coming tech company admit to his own tedium. “Until you start making a fool of yourself, I imagine. Although I am surprised. Stars of the show, aside from my brother, of course, and you are already looking for an exit route?”

He lets it simmer for half a moment before lifting his own glass. “I don’t blame you. But the HELE-N demo was very intriguing, everyone is agog, I’m sure. It must have been a thrill to showcase something so anticipated, no?”

[hadesrhea]

gorgonias​:

“  i  hear  and  notice  lots  of  things  ,  ”    she  offers  back  easily  ,  smiling  a  touch  at  the  sharp  angles  of  his  expression .    all  this  sun  ,  hours  before  he’s  expected  to  be  on  a stage  before  fates  knew  how  many  people  ,  and  hades  is  still  tucking  himself  away  like  a  vampire  allergic  to  the  light .    typical .    “  if  i  say  he’s  my  least  favorite  coworker  ,  do  i  get  seniority ?    he  drinks  all  the  good  coffee .  ”    dusa  thinks  it’s  a  decent  enough  job  at  leaning  into  the  normalcy  she’s  been  squeezing  herself  to  fit  for  the  last  week .    bigger  fish  to  fry  during  the  summit  and  all .    she  takes  a  drink  of  her  water .    “  but  yes  ,  he  told  me  beforehand  that  was  the  plan .    it’s  nice  seeing  you  both  working  together .    is  everything  going  okay  so  far ?  ”

 "I know you do.” He shoots her a wry smile, before it swiftly returns to general discontent as he looks over his notes. Hades is expecting nothing less than a bore - not really a discredit to Briseis or Ariadne, but rather to the spectacle as a whole. He wouldn’t even mind if Briseis lobbed a few dirty takedowns at him, so long as it was genuine, so long as it wasn’t an attempt at currying favor with spectators - but it was hard to tell from a distance just how Briseis intended to set herself apart, excepting her origins. “You know you already get seniority,” Hades snorts. “I keep the best coffee in my office. You’ll simply have to be quicker than him.” His lips quirk. “Yes, as good as one can hope. He seems serious about it. It’s nice, when I’d been worrying about the entire opposite extreme.”

[hadesrhea]

 zagreusrhea:

goldentheseus:

theseus expected hades. he expected the strange aura of harlotry that the man couldn’t help but exude; he even expected the sentiment, the way that anything hades said might be construed as a threat. ( was that what mino saw in him? ) what theseus did not expect was zagreus, lingering behind like some sort of black mold growing on a perfectly lovely cabinet. 

was he just supposed to ignore zagreus? did he greet him? did hades see him too, or was this some sort of bad trip effect that hadn’t yet worn off? theseus rubbed his eyes, but there zagreus remained. strange. he wondered if he wasn’t the only one aiming for bigger prizes. 

“you know i appreciate the work – adore it, even. i absolutely love the part where i’m alive to do it.” there was so much in front of theseus, but he kept his attention fixed. “but… it’s all a bit pedestrian, isn’t it? it’s been long enough now for you to realize i’m not going to slink off in the night. so take me for a ride. test me out. send me after something bigger. aren’t you at all curious how i’ll do?” 

a glance toward zagreus because he simply could not help himself. “dear zagreus here can attest to my hardworking, team attitude, sir. we’re rather good friends. i’d even be happy to take him under my wing, if you were looking to expand this little internship.” shit, he shouldn’t have mentioned zagreus. it felt entirely faux-pas to mention zagreus. “but, as always, i am at your command.”

@zagreusrhea

It brings Zagreus some pleasure to know that whatever conversation Theseus had planned for this, however many dialogue paths he had mapped out in an attempt to make himself feel more favorable, they all get shredded to hell the second Zagreus, shadow of his father, appears. One look at Theseus, and it is clear that he is unexpected. One look at Theseus, and Zagreus can tell the train has gone off the rails of whatever carefully curated track was laid down. If Theseus realizes it’s a mistake to mention Zagreus, Zagreus thinks that Theseus should work harder on making his existence less amusing.

“I can absolutely attest to his handwork and team-attitude. But don’t let me steal your spotlight, why don’t you speak to your proudest achievement?” Zagreus considers an olive. “Don’t be modest Theseus.”

He pauses mid motion to smile at Theseus, like he’s looking for blood. Maybe he is. The internship comment certainly didn’t help.

“And for what it’s worth, I sure am curious to know how you would do it.”

@hadesrhea

There is an undeniable, droll, grating charm to Theseus, in the way a stray hound one is made to leash learns to become good company. So he’s grown tired of the length of his lead, thinks himself a more vigorous creature than one kept at heel? Hades smiles. “Yes, Theseus - I am curious - I always am when anyone makes grand promises and then offers me a dare immediately after.” His gaze remains trained on Theseus, even as Theseus glances at Zagreus. “So you’ve ‘outgrown’ pedestrian. What do you see when you envision the next level up for you?” 

He lifts a brow when Theseus pulls Zagreus into the conversation directly now, rather than winking at him at the periphery. Surely, that would be the true test for the both of them, if the two of them would get anything done if they can’t help but rib each other in what is meant to be a meeting. “What, pray tell, would you have to teach Zagreus?” His son babbles something about an achievement, in a tone that suggests goading or sabotage. He presses his fingers to his temple, nods expectantly.

@goldentheseus​​

[hadesrhea]

minotaurus·:

It echoes through him. Desire. It’s different, though, this desire: this is a desire to not be, rather than one to have. It’s the opposite of longing. It echoes through him, this chorus of I should not be here, I do not want to be here. And then, very deep inside, there is a part that does: that does wish to be here, with Theseus and Ariadne, that wishes the past years were erased and that the ocean could be their home. A distant dream he cannot touch.

So, when summoned by Hades, he is tense and it shows. Mino wishes he could be nothing but a shadow, watchful and observant, but not witnessed: but here, he is witnessed, touched by the slightest of brushes. Right now, he finds himself both thrilled and made nervous by it. He sits. “Ah. Well, I regret hearing that it shows.” He does not like his weakness laid on the table, after all. “I fare well enough. If you’re worried … well, there’s no need.” He’s dealt with more uncomfortable situations. ( But those had always been with Ari on his side. ) Mino looks at Hades, wonders if the other will bring up his estranged brother, or if they’ll dance around the topic as he’d prefer. “It’s a lot of leisure, isn’t it? A lot less exciting than Tartarus.”

-

“It’s not obvious,” Hades reassures him, smirking faintly. All too easy to take Mino’s words at face value, to believe him, and he does, to a degree. A paragon of humility and self-restraint (with... notable moments of exception), the brawler has proven resilient in the face of punishment, of penance, but this is different. It’s to do with family, the clear and careful delineation between there and here. Hades himself can hardly count on himself to be reasonable when it comes to family - he can’t blame anyone else if they can’t either.

“It’s in my nature to worry,” he admits, shrugging. “I think a lot. I overthink. Most of the time it’s productive, the rest of the time, it’s a toss-up. Hopefully you don’t fault me for it, given the circumstances.” Lifts a brow, doesn’t reach for specificity beyond that just yet, not when Mino clearly doesn’t care to elaborate. “A lot. But, it lacks Tartarus’s grit. Authenticity. A life of jetskis and photo ops and flashy fanfare - its suited to more people, I’m sure. For a couple of weeks, even, I find it trying.”

[hadesrhea]

deathsknife​:

.

Thanatos leans against a street lamp and thumbs the edge of an unlit cigarette, contemplating what he loves about his home. Black glass buildings like mirrors. Bass like a pulse line, spearing each patron to the next and carrying them through. The House, known like a second set of hands. And how each, pressed against the raw and open heart of his wounds, has turned sour under the circumstances. 

Styx and Elysium are right out for obvious reasons and if Than stares at the living room wallpaper while just stomach turns it self over for one more hour, he thinks he very might well lose it. So, he’s here: under a manufactured neon sunrise, the real thing still hours away. Here, catching his breath. Half wondering when the tremors will start again and he’ll have to call a car home. 

Here, in this hour out of time. Alone, and then not. 

“Something like that.” Thanatos swallows around the thick in his throat, pockets the cigarette even at the sight of Hades’ own. He should be surprised at the patriarch’s appearance, shouldn’t he? Than reaches for the feeling and finds himself grasping at air. The best he can do is offer Hades a wan smile. 

“Is this the start or the end of your day? Or somewhere in the middle.” 

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?”

[hadesrhea]

achillespithia​:

Read More Now!

trigger warning: mentions of blood, semi-graphic descriptions of violence, & death

He feels his chest tighten, constrict, when Achilles weeps. His grip tightens around the other’s shoulder, thumb rubbing in circles around muscle. Hades didn’t cry, not when he and his brothers decided to kill Cronus, not during the fact, not at the funeral. Had wondered if he was capable of anything at all, if he couldn’t even bring himself to cry for himself, for whatever part of himself he killed to kill his father. There is, at least, nothing like that to wonder with Achilles.

Wondrous, that he’s been raised to kill in the way he has, in the way Hades wasn’t, but he is still replete with humanity, with kindness. That he can weep over slain family, over a sacrifice as great as his. There is admiration, there is sorrow in his gaze as he watches Achilles cry, then pull himself out of grief. His next question feels open, earnest, and Hades knows he owes to them to answer just as honestly. 

“I will hunt down Peleus’ allies, anyone who joined him in his insurgency, anyone who stands by his decision to send an assassin after my boy, and eradicate them.” His words are passionless, no real zeal behind them - only exhaustion. He has no candor to slaughter - every retribution feels laborious after so much death. “You should go to the House. They’ll know to admit you. You should sleep. You’ve done your part, and this -,” he nods to their surroundings. “Begs for rest.”

[hadesrhea]

closed to @achillespithia location: hades’ quarters on pontius when: the hour of the leviathan; first week

In many ways, Pontius is far more treacherous territory than Olympe, despite the respective circumstances that bid him to either. Between Alecto, Sisyphus, and now Achilles being mired with subtle perils, Hades finds himself uncannily antsy - particularly with the latter, who had volunteered to see what he could glean from Patroclus. Whilst it would surely be helpful if it wasn’t replete with its own risks, Achilles’ own feelings for one, Achilles was not a spy, and it didn’t take a particularly skilled detective to intuit that his guard might be fraught with emotions after finding himself on Patroclus’ home turf and potentially being in close contact once more with his old lover. Hades remembers well enough how last time went. 

He summons Achilles. Pauses on the scotch. No need to unnecessarily potentially exacerbate; he would see how his guard is feeling first. “You know you don’t have to do this, don’t you?” Sits after he locks the door behind them. “In fact, if you think you’ll be too compromised, I’d insist you don’t.”

[hadesrhea]

closed to @zagreusrhea & @goldentheseus where: helicon, pontius when: the hour of the leviathan, first week

He finds Theseus on Helicon, waiting at their appointed meeting spot, a place swallowed by shade, far from any cameras or crowds. Zagreus follows close behind - a recent addition to his routine, and even if the new increased proximity takes some getting accustomed to, it is a sure relief and source of renewed satisfaction that his son has re-engaged with Khton.

Hades flicks his sunglasses to rest atop his head, taking a seat in front of Theseus, an attendant close behind balancing a tray - coffee, fruits, hors d'oeuvres, all of which is placed at the center of the table, an offering at every turn. “Theseus,” he greets, his lips playing at a dry smile. “I hear you’ve been hungry. Bored. Is what I’ve been giving you not enough to keep you sated anymore?”

[feral-ballad]

Sujata Bhatt, from Poppies in translation; “Such sweet cherries”

[hadesrhea]

closed to @minotaurus location: hades’ quarters on pontius when: the hour of the leviathan; 1st week, 11pm

It’s tumultuous territory, this. The whole of the ship, everything it must represent to Mino, stepping foot on Ariadne’s home domain, where they’d ultimately escaped to without Theseus, without him. Too much left in the air, and he would be remiss if he didn’t admit he wondered after Mino, wonders if he feels anxious, antsy, replete with dread, if he wishes he were on the other side of this, with Ariadne. 

He summons Mino to his quarters, the room flooded with moonlight, the ocean rippling outside the grand windows, watchful, curious, as Mino enters, garbed in robes darker than ink, as black as the shadowy water beyond the vessel. “You appear restless, Mino. How do you fare on Pontius?” His fingers graze Mino’s forearms, pulling away to brush past him to pull out another chair. “It’s regretful they don’t have an arena here. Dry activities for a place perched on the ocean.”

[hadesrhea]

closed to @gorgonias where: helicon, pontius when: the hour of the leviathan; hours before the tech & tourism panel

“I’m sure you’d heard and noticed,” he begins, scowling in the general direction of the crowds, the throngs gravitating towards the splendor of the stage, towards the sun to bathe themselves in its warmth. They, him and Dusa, find their own hideaway in one of the shaded cabanas far off from the stage, and its quieter, calmer, better for the candid conversation he wants to have. He peers at her through his sunglasses, gauging her reaction, “Zagreus has decided to shadow me. Become more involved in Khton. He’s not gotten in your way, has he?” 

[ladyofsilverr]

THE WITCHER 3: WILD HUNT — 22/∞ ➡ Father and Daughter

[westborofaptist]

[hadesrhea]

closed to: @deathsknife​ location: the surface-city of tartarus when: interlude, 4am 

Tartarus is nocturnal, but it has its windows of slumber, when all its creatures, even the most restless, have fallen into repose. The neon still lit, reflecting on empty streets, puddles that remain undisturbed, the thrumming music in the nightclubs reaching the level of dull, of background ambiance rather than the beacon to the ships in the dark. 

Hades’ hours are irregular, especially since returning from Olympe and preparing for Pontius, and it’s an old ritual, to leave the palace and take to the surface when its quietest, to stroll and smoke and hear his feet hit the asphalt and cobblestone and forming dew. 

He’s surprised to see another soul lingering at the surface, surprised still to see that it is Thanatos, though he supposes he shouldn’t be, knowing what he knows, which feels like just enough and too much, at once. Draws closer, searching for sleeplessness in the fixer’s face. “Thanatos.” Smoke rises from his lips in a shivering plume. “Can’t sleep?”

[hadesrhea]

minotaurus​:

He almost asks, how Hades has been hurt, then remembers his place. If it’s something the other wants to offer, then there is room for it, and if he does not, Mino does not want to press on healing bruises. Because that much he knows; everyone is littered with wounds, some half-healed, some still open. He’s caught off-guard, though, when Hades compares pain to pleasure. He’s not unfamiliar with such concepts, but the arena and more private areas are exactly that: different areas. Different playing fields. He says as much, “That depends on the person inflicting the pain.” Elusive. Suggestive. He looks up. Doesn’t say any more than that. Hades can fill in the blanks, he thinks. 

Hades leans in. Mino holds his breath, afraid to exhale onto Hades, but when needle punctures flesh there’s an exhale all the same. A closure of eyes, a submission, a giving in. A needle is hardly a weapon but it could be, in the right hands. Tonight, though, these hands are gentle. These hands become stained with his own blood. He opens his eyes and watches, the curve of a lip, the blink of eyelashes, the lines of age on skin — Hades Rhea in snapshots, details, picturesque paintbrush strokes completing an image. He says little, as he’s sewn together, nothing at all, but sees plenty.

And then — Hades’ thumb against his lips, and an immediate response from his end. Instinctive, nearly, the way his mouth responds, the way it opens, and then there’s that metallic taste, a thumbprint against the soft of his tongue. Familiar, in one way, yet unfamiliar in a myriad of others. “No,” he says, murmurs, whispers, Hades’ thumb still against his lips. Not a question goes unanswered. “I’m quite intimately acquainted with it.”

That depends on the person inflicting the pain. Hades smiles to himself, a curling, reaching thing, and that in itself is a response, the knowing silence, the way it shifts and twines between them. There seems to be intriguing depths yet to Mino. Not that he ever doubted it; acolytes often have some impetus driving them to the altar, something decidedly unholy, something impious. 

Mino closes his eyes at first, but when he opens them back up, Hades has leveled his gaze upon him, flickering up to meet his eyes between the mending. He hardly even winces, being molded back together, Hades notes, with a measure of admiration. Wonders vaguely what exactly it would take. 

He is warm, wet upon his thumb. If it is an impulse, a dare, Hades wants to meet it. If it is a ploy, a move, he wants to decipher it, and raise it. “Good,” he whispers, draws in, pressing his lips to the wound, tastes medicine and blood in springing wells, both. “I’m sure I will be too.”

END