Maybe laying on the roof of the Lava Java to practice hadn’t been his best idea- but he had been getting better at keeping control. Until he got distracted, of course- and then all bets were off and he was dropping 24 ounces of water over the edge. “Shit! Incoming!” He called as soon as he realized his control had slipped, wincing as he heard it splatter. He waited a beat before sticking his head over the edge, not sure if it had hit someone or just pavement. @revivalreblogs
Legba was walking the side streets to the coffee shop. He was dressed in rags and a hat and used an old cane to help his vessel’s legs. He was nearing around the building when he heard someone shout a warning. The Loa took a step away and looked up to see water falling and hitting the street. It splashed the old Loa’s clothes and he frowned as he shook his head. “The forecast did not call for rain today,” he said as he looked at the young person looking back at him, peeking over the side of the building. “Quite the magician you are,” he said with a smile.
The setting sun spilled the last of its warmth over the cover of leaves and branches. The forest itself buzzed with life from every inch and corner. Yet all of it, even the sun, fell on blind senses. The only thing he could hear was the low groan of twisted wood. A body, just below the height of his knee, shifted and formed until it was fully built. Twin slits opened to reveal nothing but a gaping mass of darkness. Phantom like tendrils smoked from the orifice; dissipating into thin air as wisps.
The golem he had created was one of the most common types his past coven had summoned. Except his was all sorts of wrong. The thick bark that made up the being’s body was gnarled and half withered where it should’ve been glossy from good health. From cleansed health.
If his magic had been kept pure then the results would’ve come out drastically different. Well, the appearance would have been at least. The power of which the tree spirit contained was just the same, albeit more corrupted. His creation remained idle in all of it’s ghastly stature, and he remained lost in thought with his hand rubbing at the scruff on his face.
No matter what angle he wanted to view this at, Emmerick had to face that this was the embodiment of how far he had fallen. From the purity of nature to the curse of the damned – this was what he is to this day.
He didn’t hear or sense another presence come close. It wasn’t until the golem turned it’s head to peer at something past him, did Emmerick realize they had company. Even when he craned his neck to see who it was, he didn’t utter a single word. A simple motion of his hand and the golem crumbled within itself, crushed into the organic matter it had once been birthed from.
“Move along.” As if he was in a place to make such demands, but the instinctual defense of unfriendliness currently fell short.
The sounds that the Loa made in his weakened vessel could certainly be heard in the woods as he walked. He came upon someone who immediately insulted his presence by telling him to go. Hephaestus immediately stopped and shook his head as he looked over the man, would be man anyway. He didn’t recognize this face and so he knew to make his way of greeting.
“How lost are you?” he asked with an impish chuckle. “You have summoned me so you must be headed in the wrong direction, yes?” The Loa lifted one side of his brow and smiled. “Perhaps I’ll show you a way and not just out of these woods. Maybe, you wish to find someone and don’t know what your heart desires?”
“You misunderstand my intentions, old man,” he spat. “I do not want to talk, I want to devour them. That is, of course, the only proper punishment for their betrayal, don’t you think?” He didn’t really get the calmness of the other. There was no calm in Asgard, was there really such calmness other places?
Either way, the wolf made no motion to move from his spot. While the Vidar was not a deity, he was still the son of one - and so his ego remained.
“Happy memory? I do not have happy memories. Expecting me to come here with them is silly.” Really, Vidar doubted the chip on his shoulder would ever dissipate. He lived his life praying for revenge upon those who had betrayed him and locked him away, waiting for Ragnarok to come so he could devour Odin.
The Loa let a heavy stripe of smoke out of his lungs which rose slowly around his face. He looked to the Norse wolf and gave him an understanding nod. “I didn’t say I was looking for them so you may talk,” Hephaestus replied warmly. “They know you are looking for them to kill them and as I said, most don’t want to be bothered with you.”
A bartender appeared and put a pair of short glasses and a bottle of rum on the table. She took the chip from aside Vidar’s leg and left. The Loa moved his cane back to behind the table and reached for the bottle before Vidar had a chance to kick it and make a scene.
“You have my symbol now. If you are meant to find one of them, you will,” Hephaestus told him. “Now, let’s have a drink.”
her senses were going haywire , lungs almost bursting from the energy she breathed in . but edie doesn’t turn around and leave. instead , she steps further into the establishment with as much curiosity or stupidity as a lost angel could have . she was surrounded by a variety of characters , either living or dead , that much she knew . but she couldn’t pin point just who or what she could be worried about. and it set a rush of adrenaline through her , one she wholly welcomes as she eyes the various patrons. a table at the far end makes her pause to look , almost as if it were calling her attention. she cranes her neck just to see , before inching closer. an easy smile and a small quirk of her brow comes her response at the man’s statement. ’ oh , i’m not looking to play , ’ she admits , standing stock still. ‘ but i’m not opposed to buying a possible new acquaintance a drink : what’ll you be having ? ’
The Loa could still feel the heat of the angel’s memory burning in his chest, but not like the sear of the smoke he often filled his lungs with. This was healing and this was biblical, things he hadn’t felt in a while. When he invites the angel to play and she declines, he smiles slowly and sits back to watch her, not unlike a creature he’s never seen before. Of course, he’s seen angels, but none quite so... fresh and dewy new as this one.
“Rum,” he says with a chuckle. “May I ask what brings you to Epoch?” he continues as one of the other players gathers the chips of the pot toward the Loa. “After all, you do seem,,, lost,” he notes and takes a deep pull from his pipe. “You look as though you’ve arrived where you belong.”
carnelian: our muses fight together and have each other’s back
The whites of the vessels’ eyes were all that could be seen of either Loa as they came to a crossroads in the moonless night. They were drunk on merriment and liquor and Hephaestus would blame that drunken state for the reason why he’d taken such a dangerous path. Immediately, he heard the hounds of hell and gripped his cane which was helping his feeble legs toward home from the gathering that had been held in the forest. “Do you hear them, brother?” was all the Loa could ask before he felt the presence on something slamming into his chest and knocking him back. Thankfully, Baptiste was there to catch the old man and as magic flew from both their presences, keeping the dogs back. Hephaestus was rather insulted actually. After all, he was a scrappy dog in his other form as well. He looked to Baptiste and there seemed to be an understanding there, they both knew they needed the crossroads entity to come forward for them to be able to pass. The Loa known as Legba, poured blood from a flask on the ground and drew his protective symbol with the tip of his cane. He then looked to the Loa known as Ghede, who was holding up a dog with his Vodou and saw that his vessel was about to be taken by another hound and Legba did not have time to shout a warning before he impaled the demon dog with his walking stick. That caused the crossroads demon to appear with a roar of rage for the fallen hell beast, but how could a demon hope to challenge two Loas? That remained to be seen.
PALE GREEN GAZE ROLLED JUST enough for it to look more playful than much of anything else, a finger starting to tap lightly on the rim of the glass in their hand. “ just when i thought i was going to enjoy my night off, ” calyspo returned airily, surveying the table and its occupants avidly. cards and the multitude of games that she had been taught over the years had always been fun and intriguing to them, but never a skill that they practiced enough to sit at the table and engage. not when their competitive nature would no doubt have calypso attempting to flip the table over should they lose. “ be that as it may, i’m in a rather amicable mood tonight and could be convinced to go and get you something from the bar. ” not for free of course, but for the mere price of not having to pay for their next drink, and perhaps to join in when it looked like less skilled players were occupying the table. “ what’ll it be, gramps ? some of that godawful whiskey, or are you in more of a gin mood ? ” calypso asked, casual as you may please. she was a staple enough in epoch on their nights off that she could practically name the entire top shelf liquors without even looking, knowing it almost as well as their own set up at obscenity.
Hephaestus puffed on his pipe as he collected chips and stacked them, smiling around the bit. He enjoyed their attitude because it made him think of a confident child -- well, a child to him. The Loa was an old being, most everyone was a child to him and he enjoyed acting as a father or grandfather, as the case might be.
“Haitian Rum,” he said thickly after he blew the smoke out of his lungs. The whisps engulfed his features and for a moment only his dark eyes could be seen. He grinned when they seemed mildly bored with him, after all who rolled their eyes in the presence of the owner of the establishment if they were not bored. “Then, I will answer your question about travels or speak to the god you wish to see on this night.” Those were, after all, two of his purposes in life.
❝ a visit from the boss? to what do i owe the honor? ❞ mauve asked, their tone not nearly as impressed as their words might suggest. all they did was finish the drink before them and handed it off. it’d make its way to the proper patron, though they weren’t too bothered by being sure of it right then. ❝ performance review? new dress code? a dress code in general? ❞ there was nothing snarky about their words, their tone still sounding bored and distracted as they opened a few more beers and handed them off.
Hephaestus leaned on the bar as he used his old cane to take his lanky, feeble body covered in layers of rags of clothes that surely were once beautiful, to sit on a stool in front of the counter between him and Mauve. The Loa spoke with an always changing accent for he’d never settled in places for too long, other than Haiti and now Nova Satus, “My rum will be good enough for me,” he said as he poked around for his pipe among the tatters and pulled it out to set it between his lips. He watched as Mauve moved behind the bar and handed off drinks. It was somewhat busy tonight, but he knew not to ask if they needed him to call in others. If they needed help, they would say so. “I grew tired of requests so I'm here to talk to you instead.” This came with a flash of a smile as he took the pipe from his lips and watched them work as he hunted for pipe tobacco. He took their words as something to ease him. He thought of Mauve as his own, no matter how cold they were, he would always be warm, a father type of man, if you will. “Haven’t found one god who wishes to be disturbed tonight, so no flashes of magic for them to appear in, no spectacle, no show. Not that I’m disappointed. Gods don’t like Mondays anymore than the humans do.”
Vidar was never one to take orders well. Perhaps it was a side effect of his father being the god of chaos, a trickster. Or maybe he was just destined to be an utter asshole.
Whatever the reason, he sat at the table regardless and moved to place his feet atop the table - in the way of the game. “Now, now,” he chirped. “I was just going to watch, but now you’ve told me I can’t do something. We both know that just won’t do, old man.” He paused, tilting his head. “And have you ever considered wearing less fabric?”
Hephaestus gave a wider smile which became terse as he put his pipe to his lips as pulled in the pot on the table to be stacked in his favor. The Loa easily lifted the feet of a son of a god and gathered the last of his chips before tossing one to land aside Vidar’s leg.
“Why are you here this time? I told you that I cannot take you to gods who do not wish to be found. That would make them mistrustful and as you well know, I am amiable to everyone.” Hephaestus opened his hands to the other people at the card table. He halted the dealer because Vidar’s feet were still on the table. “I merely desire for you to hand that chip to the bartender. Seems I’m out of rum.”
Pulling up his cane Hephaestus finally addressed the feet on his table and tapped the man’s boot with his handle. His traveling symbol slowly carved it’s way through the sole and Hephaestus lowered his cane before taking his pipe from his mouth. “It will guide you, Vidar, and not through peril.” The Loa puffed on his pipe and then settled back into his seat so that only the whites of his eyes could be seen in the dimly lit speakeasy.
“Allow me a moment with our new guest, my friends,” Hephaestus finally announced and waited for they to leave for other tables. Hephaestus then signaled to one of his bartenders that he needed more of the spiced rum he was drinking. He sat for a moment and looked from Vidar to the chip the Loa had tossed. “Your memory was not happy, Vidar. You cannot keep leaving such murky things at my door and expect me to always allow you to enter.”
Pipe tobacco was the first thing one would smell when they neared Epoch. Woodsy smoke laced with fruity undertones, it was undeniable and yet, you wouldn’t know where the scent was come from, and maybe it was just a whiff on the air? Or maybe, perhaps, you might know it was the indication that you should ready your sacrifice -- a good memory, a strong one if you really wanted to speak to the man who owned the speakeasy. Flights of fancy would not get you anywhere and depressive stuff? That would merely get you a seat in the bar on most nights, but tonight, a Friday night? The place was full and patrons were chosen carefully. So, what memory would it be? Which would be sacrificed to the Loa known simply as Papa Legba and secularly as Hephaestus Thyme. Tonight’s game was poker, Razz, lowball poker, 7-card, and eight players to a table, ace-to-five low, lowest hand wins. Wearing his usual rundown and gaudy garb of faux fur, silk, velvet, leather, and even a stitched-up cotton bandana, plus his ever-present burgundy red hat on top of everything else, Hephaestus was seated at table toward the back of the room with six other players, meaning a seventh could join. He was drinking Haitian Rum and smoking a pipe, the other men and women may have looked tense and well, that was normal on a Friday. Everyone wanted his attention so they could spend the weekend carrying out their plans, if he allowed them their request that is. Breathing out the thick smoke from his immortal lungs, warm-eyed Hephaestus gave a smile and looked to the two men across from him as he saw someone approach the table. “Call,” he said in his deep, rasp of a tone. He held up a finger to the person standing at the table. “Only sit if you plan to feed me more liquor,” Hephaestus said as he threw his cards on the table -- aces under twos. @revivalreblogs
HEPHAESTUS THYME called into ORACLE FM. They were a little bit CHEEKY & ENIGMATIC at first, but we kept them talking until they got a little WATCHFUL & GUIDING. They said they’ve been working as OWNER OF EPOCH, and thinking about aligning themselves with N/A since they have been living in Nova Satus for FIFTY-FIVE YEARS, and from what we can tell, they still give off huge THE DRIPPING OF BLOOD ON THE GROUND, POWER THROUGH DARKNESS, & FEEBLE-LEGGED BUT WISE-EYED GAMBLER vibes. [ DJIMON HOUNSOU, HAITIAN LOA (PAPA LEGBA), CIS-MAN, UNKNOWN, HE/HIM ]
The vessel of Papa Legba was already embroiled in violent sacrifice when the Loa followed his people from West Africa to their destination in the Americas. The vessel’s mother was stripped of her dignity and clothing, and raped by men who had sold her to Spanish ships taken to the Caribbean.
From gestation on the ships, the vessel was born into slavery and put on an auction block. Legba, being the fatherly figure he was to the slaves, followed the child through the trials of being ripped from his mother and forced to grow up in a stunted world. The boy would develop osteomalacia or Rickets due to lack of nutrients and vitamins he needed. Crying in pain, day and night, the boy became a young man with a terrible limp.
To supplement the vessel’s disability, Legba would come to him and encourage the boy through puberty and he would speak Legba’s name and draw the Loa’s symbol for others who also needed guidance. Mistaking Legba for an indulgent Loa, his first sacrifices were goats in the Americas, but knowing they had so little. Legba advised his worshipers that all they need do was invoke his symbol or drip rum on the ground and call for him.
Legba never asked for the would-be vessel’s body, but when said vessel became a man, he slowly tired of his existence and offered himself again and again to Legba so may the Loa be of this world. Legba bided his time until the man decided to make an escape plan to leave the island with others.
The raft was simple and easily put together under the cover of darkness, they asked for Legba to speak their deities for blessings but there was no time for sacrifice to anyone but Legba. Unfortunately, this angered some of the other Loa spirits and the escape was not a success. When the vessel was shot and clinging to life, he once again called out to Papa Legba to take his body and make it a home. Legba finally saw to the dying wish and entered the vessel’s body while it floated at sea.
Papa Legba took the vessel’s body to what would become known as Louisiana in modern times. The Loa traveled the swamps and waited for the coming of more of his people. Other Loa encouraged Legba to seek out a healer for his vessel, but Legba always saw it as a point of his own existence to keep the vessel’s body intact and disabled.
Over hundreds of years, Papa Legba traveled between America and the island nation known as Haiti where his people practiced Vodou and called for him. Only in the last sixty years did he learn of Nova Satus and he took his time in coming to the city for he knew too well how an ill-timed escape to somewhere better could lead to death.
Being a Loa of peculiar tastes, he opened Epoch, a speakeasy that is not easily found. Being the Loa of roads, doors, and keys he made way for a place to come and have oracles deciphered, fortunes told, or guidance given to people who worship him. The cost at the door? One good, strong memory that you will sacrifice forever. After all, it makes no sense to put more blood on the ground, at least not yet, though such a dripping of blood in Legba’s symbol might bring you closer to the threshold as the rumors are said.
Papa Legba has the ability to shift into an old mutt of a dog with a limp and this is often the form he chooses when someone wanders into a crossroads and calls for his presence. He will usually be a menacing beast in this form because he is not happy that he’s been called to a place of trickery. He expects his worshipers to plan their journeys so there will be no crossroads.
Some additional abilities include knowledge of the location of other deities, but that does not mean he will give up the location without being told what is desired and given sacrifice. It’s going to take more than rum on the ground in most cases. He can also decipher oracles and in that way, fortune telling is also his privy as is the granting of luck in his presence. Also, he has pet rats. Try not to mind them.
Legba’s main ability, however, has to do with travel. He is the keeper of roads, keys, doorways, and gates. You will find his symbol in these places and Legba may choose, depending on the sacrifice if he will allow the person to enter, be it his speakeasy or otherwise. Finally, he can grant the ability to speak directly to a deity, however, he is not responsible for the deity’s mood or the consequences of the disruption.
Legba’s weaknesses are mainly physical. He is always carrying his vessel’s pain and inability to walk without a cane. He also has a slight hunch to his back and cannot stand up straight without help, which he usually rebuked. The Loa is also vulnerable at crossroads, which is why he doesn’t like to be called to them.
For appearances, most of Papa Legba’s clothes are old and out of style, but he finds the loud suits and under clothes to be comfortable and he will wear them until they are rags. He also typically wears a hat and always has a cane as well as a pipe or cigar in his hand. He prefers rum to all other liquor so if you want to appeal to him, buy him one at the speakeasy, if you can find it.
A final note: despite being a traveling and crossroads spirit, Legba is not a trickster. In fact, he is seen as a father figure in Haitian Vodou and West African religions.
