Lord of Tech

Matthew Stewart | Hephaestus CEO of Volcan-x

[hephaestxs]

erzulie-the-vamp​

Whatever it was that Heph wanted to discuss must be grim indeed. He was so tense as he stepped into her apartment, perching on the edge of her couch as if he wanted to fly away. A cup of tea would fix him. Erzulie grabbed two tall glasses and walked to the fridge, pushing a button that filled them both with pre-brewed sweet tea and ice. She placed both glasses down on the coffee table and sat daringly next to Hephaestus on the two seater. There was a certain thrill in being so close to Heph, their thighs rubbing together! Even if Zulie proclaimed she and Heph were just friends, and she had no desire for anything more…

Maybe it had been too long since she had taken a consort or two up here.

Erzulie smiled at the use of her godly name, again, maybe reading too much into it. She politely scooted back and listened to Heph as he aired his problems, of his ward and worry over Peter’s demise. Erzulie listened attentively, placing a reassuring hand on Hephaestus’ shoulder. “Yes, what happened with Pan… It has been hard on all of us,” Erzluie sagely offered. “Is there any reason why Tsukuyomi is so affected by it?” Did they know Pan, or was it a result of their troubled Descension?

“I like the thought of unity,” Erzulie said, though she wasn’t sure what she thought of Lucia’s involvement. Lucia was haughty and sanctimonious for Erzulie’s tastes, caught up in being Little Goddess Perfect. “But what is the point of drawing together? What will our unity do? We don’t even know why Pan was killed!” Erzulie bemoaned, her throat tightening as she lingered on what details she had learned of Pan’s death. “It seems to senseless… Pan was…” Poison ivy personified. Invasive, resilient, vexing, irritating… Yet it seemed impossible that someone should hate him so much to truly crave his demise.

Erzulie blinked rapidly, feeling tears begin to gather at her lashline as she lingered on Pan’s death. “Oh…!” Erzulie grumbled, pressing her fingers under her eyes to wipe away the tears that escaped. “I am supposed to be consoling you!” she whined. It wasn’t fair! 

This wasn’t exactly the tea that he’d been expecting, although it isn’t ostensibly awful, and he would drink it. Even if he only drunk a few sips to take a stab at being polite. It was noticeable however, just how close Erzulie had gotten. Necessary in some regards given the size of her sofa. Their friendship, if you could call it that, was a burgeoning tale of this descension and yet, he felt right in assuming that the sofa being a tad small was intentional. Nothing about Erzulie was accidental. It was one of the reasons he had been drawn to her. The pervasive and honest nature. Even if at times Erzulie was too much for him.

“I don’t know…” Hephaestus lied, as if to say it was usual teenage things. Except Tsukuyomi had grown past those years. Funny to think that a god could surmount their teenage years, it wasn’t a feat they were necessarily usually subjected to. Heph froze up as Erzulie continued onwards, and spiralled outwards into rapid tears. This was not within his remit. His hand nervously twitched for something, and ended up lurching for the sweet tea. Which wasn’t the consolation he’d been looking for. Hephaestus took a small sip and put it back down.

“Don’t worry.” But he didn’t deliver it with any great surmount of passion. Hephaestus tended to have one note, occasionally pitching up or down with a tough stare but never too far left or right. Pan had meant something to Erzulie. The golden trio. No wonder Utu had been so jumpy. “This is why we must unite together.” He said, turning to her properly with a fixated stare.

“We do not know what the future holds. Importantly, right now, we must find out why, and how he was killed we cannot do that scattered off alone. We are gods after all. Think of what we can achieve together.” Thus far all they had in the way of detectives was some angry erinyes. Less than ideal. “Erzulie I genuinely believe this is for the best.”

He paused, catching her eyes. “Don’t you agree?”

[hephaestxs]

erzulie-the-vamp​

Erzulie felt foolish for suggesting her apartment. Yes, she and Hephaestus were friends, at least Erzulie considered Hephaestus her friend. They had spent countless nights chatting like this, over a few drinks. Still, inviting him to her apartment felt like something more. They hadn’t really met anywhere which wasn’t the place of business for the other. Erzulie had gone to Volcan-x, or Hephaestus had come here. Still, Erzulie’s nerves dissolved away at Heph’s guarded smile, his nervous fiddling. “Right then,” she grinned, fizzing with excitement.

Erzulie dashed away for a moment to tidy things up, make sure her staff were all sorted, that the roster was correct for tomorrow. Just as it happened it turned out that Julie was sick, so Erzulie scheduled herself in to take over the afternoon shift on the bar. That crisis averted, Erzulie came back to Heph, slipping into her fibre-optic, feathered bolero. Yes, she lived above Vamp. No, she did not need a jacket for the brief foray into the slightly cooler corridor and then elevator to get to her apartment. But the jacket gave Erzulie and Entrance and an Exit. The feathers shimmered gold and silver as she blew kisses to her remaining staff. And then it was just her and Heph.

It felt wrong to be taking Hephaestus up her her apartment. The journey up was full of awkward silences, Erzulie trying not to look over at Heph, wondering if he was looking at her. If he wanted something more than privacy to talk about Pan… No, it would be foolish of Erzulie to get involved with Heph. She’d sworn off gods since Utu. But but but but but… Erzulie gave herself a stern talking to in the seconds the waited in the lift, so that by the time they arrived at her level she was determined to not fuck this friendship up.

“My home,” Erzulie proclaimed as she walked through the doors of the lift, into the chaos of her living-diner-kitchen. The living room part was the most accessible, only a few costumes crowded the cushions and throws that decorated the mismatching loungers. The dining table was buried under props and costumes, underneath it a few boxes of glassware that Erzulie had bought on a whim and then decided didn’t fit Vamp. The kitchen was messy, pots piled in the sink that she’d been leaving to soak until this morning… “Ah, what a sight for guests!” Erzulie shooed Heph towards the couches, gathering up the costumes and placing them on an empty dining chair.

“Would you like tea? Coffee? A drink?” Erzulie asked Heph once that was done, slinking off her feathered jacket and placing it on the back of the chair. “Something to sip on while we discuss your private business?”

Erzulie’s apartment was not what he expected, and yet the chaos of it all aligned with her perfectly. It did however, edge Hephaestus towards unease. Every square inch of surface, regardless of its actual intended use, was being used for storage. Heph felt his fingers twitch at the sight of the pots in the kitchen sink – did Erzulie not have an automatic washer? Nevermind the costumes that littered her apartment. Begged the question what the rest of it was like. Heph let himself be herded towards the living room which Erzulie promptly did her best to tidy up. 

He turned to her, hiding a grimace as Erzulie dumped a pile of costumes on the remaining dining room chair that hadn’t been concealed. “Tea is fine.” He said, picking up one of the throws that had been cast onto the sofa on a whim. It was crumpled up, but it was an easy fix to hold it out and fold it up neater. The rest, well it wasn’t his issue, so inevitably Heph perched on the two seater.

Underneath the messy foray of costumes, her apartment was precisely what he would expect of her. Light, brilliant, dashes of colour, nothing matched but entirely in a way that worked. It could within an instant be transformed into a boudoir with the heavy curtains and decadent lighting. This Hephaestus noticed incidentally as a point of interest regarding her decor choice. Not for its intended purposes. Heph unbuttoned his shirt jacket and then folded it neatly over the arm. “I’m worried – - Erzulie.” It wasn’t often that Heph leant into their godly names each descension was an iteration of themselves, yes, – but they cast the mould to be who they wanted to be. In many ways they were bereft of their purest form, so why be beholden to it?

“I believe I mentioned last time that I was worried for Tsukuyomi…well this business with Peter has struck them hard. No doubt it plagues all of our minds. I’ve spoken with a number of people including Lucia, she agrees with me that we cannot stand apart in this matter. It’s gone past time that we unified as one. But I’m worried about them…” Hephaestus had loosened the constraints, and now it seemed only apt like an overbearing parent to tighten them again. 

[hephaestxs]

Are you afraid of dying?

"If you had asked me this a month ago, I would have said no. Such an endeavour, to kill a god, is impossible and thus death is not something to be feared. I do not deal in the afterlife but it exists for mortals and immortals alike. To know that a god has not just died but ceased to exist is an altogether very terrifying thought. Fear if mis-managed can stifle creativity, and render even the strongest minds useless. So in some ways, yes, I am afraid but this should be fuel to the fire to create a better world for us all."

"I am more than strong enough to not let fear drive me to incompetence, or ruin.”

[hephaestxs]

ofjackals​

On the mention of the stock market ‘blip’ Anubis looks up from his spiced tea only briefly.  It might have been the slightest of glances, only a minute shift in the focus of his gaze, but if one was observant ( which Heph surely was ) and they knew anything of the guardian deities usual mannerisms ( which Heph surely did ), it might be assumed that the point was something that had drawn his attention duly and had been – n o t e d.

He would have to watch the succulents more closely.

“That is, if it was a choice at all.”

He remains softly spoken, even in his challenge.  So often people assumed that a god so closely affiliated with ‘death’ must be evil.  ( And therein that ‘Death’ itself was inherently evil… Which it was not.  Just another aspect of the inevitable, not as celebrated as ‘life’ but still simply a part of those never-ending cycles… )… But in truth, justice was neutral - rightfully so.  A balance - weighing both sides of the scale.

“We should also consider - if the individual responsible for mortally wounding Peter’s human incarnation was aware of ‘what’ Peter was, they could have been under the assumption that he would simply return to pantheon and descend once again - as, up until this point, that is precisely what has happened.”

“Even in the aftermath of such a violent act, we do not know if the intention was to void his existence entirely.”

Gods and deities had died before while walking the earth… And yes, it was difficult to murder a descended one, but not impossible.  Descension was not eternal - it was temporary.  A glimpse.  A gift.  They had all ‘died’ here.  But never before in perpetuity.

“Premeditation, collusion and conspiracy are equally as viable as the tragedy of misadventure and unsuspected outcome.”

“The rest is purely speculation.”

Perhaps the deity before him could only function with an outcome on the cards.  Something that provided a means to an end.  That nothing could happen without specific purpose.  The gods of chaos would probably argue the opposite.  That nothing had purpose.  Anubis, as ever, found himself quite central to those opposing sides.  But it seemed as though Heph was quite determined to find a singular cause or a singular culprit who could burden whatever amount of blame, wrath or revenge came thereafter.

“If you seek to unite us, I would like to ask you… Unite against - what?  And if you do suspect betrayal, who might be omitted from this unification?  Who would be scrutinised.  Who would do the scrutinising?”

“That, is also dangerous.”

Gods watching gods, suspecting each other… …They’d be tearing each others throats out within five minutes.

And then Heph throws out his reverse uno card.

Them. He speaks of them. The humans.  The mortals who they were made to serve.   Living their beautiful and painful lives, blissfully unaware that their deities walked among them.  That there had been a fracture in ‘the state of things’.  That the death of a god could unleash or quash the very force they represented with potentially untold consequence…

…To them.

Touché.

“No, they do not. But we should be cautious that we are not the reason to cause more.”

Anubis would be the first to admit that he had no desire to join whatever ‘unification’ was proposed.  But he was also not fool enough to think that those eager to join such a union would do so with any regard for that aforementioned caution.  It had the potential to be a powderkeg.  

Perhaps then, an even hand may be needed.  Loathe though he may be.

“What is it - precisely - that you are proposing?”

Heph saw the flicker. It was like a momentary refraction then the water catches the light just right and there’s a slight glint. Then it’s gone. Anubis’ composure slid right back into place, as if it never happened at all. Hephaestus might never have caught it at all if it hadn’t been for his studious attentions to Tsukuyomi. Be it as it may, he was still not good at interpreting the minutia of human emotions. This he understands. If only because it is Anubis registering what he says as truth. “If it is an immortal who believed that Peter would simply descend again, then why not own up to that mistake?”

“Sending someone back to their pantheon is not a heinous crime, an annoyance. But it has happened even if it is…frowned upon.”

That was however, not the case here. Anubis spiralled onwards, probing Hephaestus motives, and his intentions. As if there wasn’t a greater danger out there than deities coming together. It seems that going back and forth with it Heph has landed on something that even Anubis cannot ignore. “I am proposing that we, deities, vote for a council to act on all the deities behalf. Currently we have furies off on head-hunts from what I hear, and immoral gods taking advantage of the situation.”

“I have acted as custodian to keep gods from being imprisoned, or causing enough damage that the truth spills out with mortals. A monumental task when there’s a demon loose in the French Quarter wailing on innocents screaming Peter’s name, his name, not his moniker.”

Hephaestus brought his hands together to lean against the table with both arms. The tea somewhat forgotten momentarily for the greater good. “Fear not I have no intention of leading the council.” That matter had been very much taken out of his hands by Vesta no less. “Unification must happen or else the chaos we collectively will face, will be fatal. I do not believe that the creatures or lower immortals should be included, and Vesta has agreed.”

“If it was one of us that obliterated Peter, accidental or not. Then I have no fear that the perpetrator will soon reveal themselves be it intentional or not. There is only so long one can hide. If that is it, and we find out who is behind this then the council can simple dissolve. No threats, no need.”

But Hephaestus has been astutely watching, and he can’t fathom a world where the lower immortals and monsters of their pantheons didn’t use this as a weapon. “New Orleans is amok with gods of chaos, you are one of the few that has remained calm. Such will be needed should the fickle children vote for someone with popularity, but no wit.”

[hephaestxs]

erzulie-the-vamp​

They shouldn’t be having funerals. “You are so right…!” That was the cognitive dissonance that Erzulie had been facing, that having a funeral for Pan had been so, so wrong. He out of all of the gods had been so vivacious, full and bursting of life. Erzulie shook her head solemnly, humming in agreement. She took another sip of her drink, but even the gigglewater couldn’t lift her spirits. "Going… felt like it would make it real.” And Erzulie wasn’t ready for that. She would never be ready to admit that Pan was dead.

Erzulie did her best to pick herself up when Hephaestus said he had wanted to speak with her. She liked feeling needed, wanted, sought out. The thrill of belonging, of being chased. Heph didn’t chase her like he was courting her… but Erzulie could pretend. “Yes, yes of course there’s my booth…” Erzulie paused, and then bullishly went on. “Or there’s my apartment?” Above them, part store-house and part living quarters. Erzulie’s inner sanctum, as she called it. Completely private. More importantly, the chairs up there did not have tables in the middle to separate them. Erzulie shouldn’t dream about sidling up next to Hephaestus on her lounge set but…! Who could blame her if her daydreams did not feature cracking Hephaestus’ mirror-steel shell to find the soft, gooey center underneath? One that could be unlocked by a reciprocal opening of hearts? Of finding comfort in Pan’s tragedy? It was wrong, it was callous of her, but love was selfish, single-minded.  

Or there’s my apartment. Hephaestus’ brows pinch momentarily and in the minutia. This he had not expected. Because above all else Erzulie was supreme in her right as goddess of vamp, and because they had only ever co-existed together within this space. Her apartment. It was the sort of offering a friend would make, or someone wishing to initiate more. But even he was not fool enough to mistake Erzulie’s friendliness for something more. Curious. He offered a very slight smile, before setting himself proper by adjusting his watch. Unnecessary it was already set to the precise loop needed. “If it isn’t trouble.” 

The locations, be it her apartment, her booth, really it could be anywhere so long as it was private. Hephaestus had failed with Utu. Perhaps he really might have a shot after all with Erzulie. She was well-loved. Could easily win Vesta over if need be. He stood up, following Erzulie as she lead the way out of Vamps. Doing her rites as she left to shut up shop and give the remaining staff their orders. Hephaestus leant against the doorway watching as Erzulie flitted about the club. There was no-one really like her in New Orleans. 

She returned to him with a glossy smile. “Lead the way,” he asked. Of which it seemed she was destined to oblige. Hephaestus made fast presumptions about what he would find upstairs in her inner sanctum. What would be appropriate for a goddess of love, passion and beauty. Presumably it would be at odds with what Heph idolised, but he couldn’t berate her of her comforts.

[hephaestxs]

smoking-mirror​

Tez liked to needle Hephaestus. For a god with a rage said to rival Alekto’s, he was much better at keeping his anger in check. All that meant was it would one day explode, but wouldn’t that be spectacular to watch? The cataclysmic power needed to create obsidian.

His ward seemed to be something of a touchy subject for Heph. He hadn’t brought him here, on the basis that it would have distressed them. Tez arched an eyebrow at that, and Hephaestus’ following point, that gods who have bent the rules of descension suffer. Returning to the mortal plane too soon, or to a body that was too young… “You are very generous to take in the deity, Matthew,” Tezcatlipoca wryly said, sipping at her drink. In all her dealings with Hephaestus she would not call him generous. He had drained her for as much cash as he could, hidden maintenance fees, voided warranties, keeping his technology needlessly complicated so it could only be serviced by Volcan-x, not one of the hundreds of independent technicians floating around.

“I like to know who is floating around New Orleans,” Tez gave as reason for her curiousity. That the deity was under Hephaestus’ thumb made it all the better. His hidden threat, the implication that if she pressed too far he would revoke her access to Volcan-x’s products. “Perhaps I will get a chance to meet them someday,” Tez mused, more curious than before yet not willing to annoy Hephaestus yet. “Once they are confident enough to venture beyond your walls, that is.”

Tez did not trust Heph at all, that was exactly her problem. She especially did not trust his grandstanding about Pan’s death, about a coming threat and how the gods needed to band together to prevent another attack from occurring. Tez looked blankly at him, and gave a non-committal hum. “And you would lead this cause?” Tez casually asked, sipping her drink. Again, how generous of Hephaestus. “All it will do is drive paranoia and fear in us… Which has its uses…” Tezcatlipoca knew that well. The Aztecs had ruled an empire, after all. “There is nothing to suggest that another god will be killed,” Tez said off-handedly, clenching her jaw. “It’s self-centered to believe otherwise, don’t you think?” That they were important enough to be killed, just like Pan. 

Tezcatlipoca was an annoyance. An unruly god who didn’t like to abide by any rules set out before them. She paid well, which was as good a reason as any to supply her with the tech she needed. In this particular instance he’d heard enough. She was poking into subjects that were not hers to look into. The subject of Tsukuyomi was private for a multitude of reasons. The young god would be lost if Heph unleashed him onto New Orleans freely. Much less let them meet her. “Some day.” He confirmed, with some lack of enthusiasm.

“If Peter can be harmed, then so can we all. Don’t mistake my warning Kyrie for selfishness or perhaps it will be your head next on the chopping block.” With that he stood, there were plenty of others about the memorial he could say a word to. Or perhaps better yet, he could leave. There were a thousand other things he’d prefer to be doing than mingling and engaging in polite chit-chat. He left without another word.

END.

[hephaestxs]

ofjackals​

Anubis is a little amused by the somewhat puritanical nature of Hephs musings on stories.  That there could be only one version.  One truth.  The original and nothing more.  He seemed to be missing the point of stories.  The anecdotal nature of them was the very thing that kept them alive.  Stories grew and changed, became more fantastical and complex and entertaining - in each and every telling or retelling.  With more emphasis on the parts the teller enjoyed - perhaps embellishing a heroic deed, or making out that a villain of a piece was more dastardly and evil than their original portrayal…

“I would beg to differ… They may not be the same as the original.  But that does not make them lesser than.  I’m sure that many ‘originals’ have been lost to time… But those stories have not died.  Have not dissipated or disappeared.  Many of them have flourished and continue to do so…”

If Hephs version was true, then none of the gods would be here.  They would be a singular thought.  An isolated impression… Their complexities and design, their fantastical natures would never have been drawn out, spun threads of such intricacy that could never be conceived without that growth.

What would someone have to gain from his eradication?

Why does there have to be gain?  Sometimes chaos existed for the simple sake of chaos itself.  No rhyme nor reason to it.  No rationale… Though that may be a difficult concept for Heph – the industry mogul, everything with an explicit purpose.  If it had no purpose, then it had no use and was therefore obsolete.  So to do something simply ‘because’ might be beyond comprehension.

“The story lives on.  Even in us - we speak of Peter even now.  And, as far as we can tell - the force, the abstract still exists.  Nature has not collapsed in on itself.  Growing things have not shrivelled and died…”

At least - not yet.   Anubis has been keeping something of a wan eye on the miniature succulents lining one of the shelves in his apartment.  Thus far they seemed to be managing without their representing deity.

“Perhaps someone has figured out how to sever the concept of a god from it’s force, leaving it wild and free.  Or… If you wish to think of it in terms of – gain – perhaps they have found a way to claim that force for their own.”

Inexperienced hands wielding new power. Staking claim to something that was neither inherently ‘theirs’ nor ever meant to be.  Yes, a power grab might be something that would fit in with Hephs view of purpose… 

“Which could be a more worrisome concept than someone killing a god. –  And if Peter was only the first - as per your hypothesis - that could mean potentially opposing or conflicting forces residing within a single entity, at war with each other.”

…To Anubis, it sounded like something of a ticking timebomb.

“Odd?  No…  It doesn’t strike me as odd.  It strikes me as dangerous.”

There was truth in what Anubis spoke of. Stories, gods, the mythos that kept them alive didn’t disappear but it evolved over countless of generations. Mutating and changing as each generation told it slightly differently. A hundred lives lived through the tales that mortals weaved for them. But all of their temples were gone. Dead like Pan was. Temples had been long flattened, demolished, to make way for casinos or the new-spangled churches that had subsequently been burnt for huge data warehouses. No-one really worshipped gods these days, not like they used to. Which, begged the question could Pan not be reborn? 

He’d formed a cult-like worship amongst the mortals in New Orleans. Loved for his music. Allegedly cherished for his charm. Except their love, their stories of him, seemingly weren’t bringing him back. Heph had heard no such news from Olympus of his return. It was hard to ignore the noisy god even if he were half-way across the world.

“On that.” He taps the table. Nature had not collapsed. “There was a disruption in the stock market a few days ago with an agricultural firm.” A tad too specific to be merely coincidental. Heph has no real plants in his home, nor in the offices. No measure to see if Pan’s absence is beginning to have an affect.

Hephaestus sets down the tea, as comforting as it was to indulge in something spicy sweet. “It is dangerous, only an odd choice to go after a minor deity unless…as I say it was a test. An experiment.” He exhales, perhaps he should acquire a plant. A real one not one of the artfully crafted artificial plants that looked hyper-realistic. Use it as a marker. “What if by the very nature of us sustaining his story, his legacy, we are delaying the inevitable?”

Another reason to call the gods together. Veles was the closest they had right now to facilitate in the absence of Pan, but even he had chosen an entirely different avenue of re-invention. “If two identities now co-exist, or as you say are at war with one another, inside one mortal, one god, whomever or whatever they are. Surely there would be a way to tell?”

Heph had witnessed firsthand what happened when an immortal pushed the boundaries of what a mortal body was capable of. They were all bound by the same rules. But to have twice the battery, twice the power, surely someone in New Orleans was currently a walking light-bulb. “We speak of entities at war, well I’ve heard talk of one of the slavic gods being unable to control his own powers. This is all…highly unusual. We’re entering into the unknown and that is why I seek to unite us.”

“If we are alone in this, then we’re all susceptible to this force. Perhaps if one of our own has betrayed us, we may flush them out sooner rather than later. Control this before it has an effect on the mortal world.” 

“They do not deserve this carnage and chaos.”

[hephaestxs]

attaboyutu​

Utu smiled to himself, as Heph dredged up that same-old complaint of his pantheon. The bickering and in-fighting amongst gods.  ‘No better than the humans’, Utu heard someone say once (they couldn’t remember who).  Heph wasn’t wrong exactly; Utu just saw things in a somewhat different way.  But that was a conversation for another day, under less pressing circumstances.

For now, they looked up at Heph face when the gruff god admitted to not being ‘best-liked’.  “Popularity?”  Utu said, half-incredulous.  “No offense, Heph, but impressions are often two-way at worst, mutual at best.  You provide a service, and I honestly thank you for that, for your work here - and your innovation, even if I poke at it.”  As if Utu’s idle poking had any effect on the rolling machine that was Volcan-X.  Utu critique was ineffectual and they both liked it that way, Utu supposed.  

“But I never pegged you for someone who ever cared about being liked.  Not the way you…well.”  Utu sat back and smiled, almost fondly.  “You’re not exactly ingratiating are you.”  It never occurred to Utu until now, that perhaps Heph wasn’t good at ingratiating himself to the other gods.  Utu had always assumed that Heph considered himself both superior-minded, and grossly underappreciated.  

But now, given their surprisingly common ground about Pan (now there was a god who knew how to charm the pants off anyone), Utu wondered at Heph’s earnestness.  Combined with him being ill-equipped to charm others.  Utu couldn’t tent his fingers, so he rest his chin on his hand.

“I agree,” he said, soft and bothered, as if seeing Heph for the first time.  “I agree with what you’re saying, Hephaestus.”

A coalition, a task force.  A round table, a mount Olympus, even.  A gathering space,  Utu thought dreamily, just for a moment.  He smiled.  “I apologize for speaking in haste about being ‘liked’, I get where you’re coming from now.  You’re already ten steps ahead, huh.  You’re going through the list to contemplate a…”  Utu paused, before carefully choosing as neutral a word as he could fine. “….a leader.”

This day could not have gone any stranger.  Him and Hephaestus, agreeing on their mutual alarm and distress about Pan’s murder.  Heph proposing a conclave of gods to convene and unite.  A new pantheon, here on earth.  Utu’s head reeled, the hymn in his head swelled so loud it got to screaming proportions.  

“The topic is delicate but I’m not,”  Utu assured Heph, but his head was swirling with pounding beats, and Utu shut his eyes, afraid they might somehow glow.  Their arm secured, Utu flexed it and nodded.  “So much better, that’s amazing.  You make it look so easy.  Thank you for the special attention, Heph, I’m sure you have a lot on your plate so I really appreciate you taking the time for me.  But I won’t take up more of your busy schedule.  I should go.”

He had misjudged him. Even under the slightest potential hint of responsibility Utu buckled. Despite his words, his false reassurances that he was not delicate, he fled. Heph did little to stop him. Only watching with a disappointed wan smile as Utu started gesturing at the door with his newly updated biomech. At the very least he was grateful. There was one thing that Heph had not accounted for. That Pan’s destroyer might walk among them as a god. Albeit it was a theory that another had seemed to be keen on, or at least had spoken about it at length. He had presumed Utu would be malleable, trustworthy simply because of his origins, a figure well-liked within their community of gods.

There was another he could turn to. If Utu was not up to the job – though he hadn’t wished to involve her. 

END.

[hephaestxs]

erzulie-the-vamp​

Erzulie sipped her drink as Hephaestus settled before her, stubbing out his foul smelling cigar. Her drink was refreshing and light, just what she needed to stave off the weariness from another busy night. “Business is good,” Erzulie says pleasantly, motioning to club winding down around them. “Busier than ever, even!” and Erzulie knew why, and that her surge in business was due to Pan’s death was more bitter than sweet. She nodded along as Hephaestus alluded to it with, except for the obvious. Erzulie hummed non-commitally. She’d been putting on a brave face for Vamp, for Ausrine and Hebe. It still hadn’t hit her yet, not truly. And from Hephaestus’ weariness, she felt that he was in the same boat as her. “I’m glad to see you too,” Erzulie said, reaching out across the table to squeeze his hand. “You’re always a welcome sight around here,” she said, hoping he felt that despite its glitz and glamour that Vamp was a place he could come to for support. That he could come to Erzulie if he needed help.

She was about to suggest they retire to her private booth when Hephaestus addressed the elephant in the room. “I didn’t go,” she said, twirling her cocktail glass before picking it up and taking a large sip from her drink. Most people knew that the split of Erzulie from Attaboy had been less than amicable. Quite the opposite of amicable, fiery and fierce. Still, she had loved Pan, she loved Utu. The thought that she would never see him again, not in this descension or the next pained her. Erzulie sighed and shrugged, looking out over to the bar. “How was it?” she asked Heph, as if it were merely a movie she hadn’t streamed. 

It was better that she hadn’t gone. Erzulie would have drunk too much, ended up getting into a fight with someone over nothing, bitch-slapped someone else, and probably smashed Pan’s urn to the ground. Or that’s at least what she told herself.

He hadn’t ever seen Vamps so busy. In all of his visits. Which had never been numerous, yet Hephaestus always found himself gravitating towards her club whenever he did venture out. “It was odd.” Hephaestus watched her glance away, anyone else would assume that her shrug was careless but Heph had spent enough time with her to know better. Long before their paths had ever truly crossed Erzulie had been part of that trio. Utu. Erzulie. Pan. He’d heard the gossip and rumours that had encircled all three of them in their heydays. He did not however, know any of them all that well back then. Utu shrouded in their golden enigma, Pan too much of an annoyance and Erzulie untouchable.

Times had changed. 

“We shouldn’t be having funerals, or memorials.” It wasn’t right. On any account. Hephaestus glanced around, they weren’t necessarily alone albeit the remaining bodies were all Erzulie’s staff. It was not the place for them to be freely talking. Hastily, he finished the whiskey she had gotten him. “No doubt the festivities that Ash held in his honour would have been well loved by Peter.” Though to any outsider they would’ve seemed obscene. “I have been meaning to come speak to you.”

“About him.” About everything. If there was anyone that would surely have an answer it felt as though it would be Erzulie. She saw the world differently to him. Saw the best, and the worst, in everyone. “Can we speak in private…?” It wasn’t unusual for them to retire to her private booth. Talk for hours – mostly her doing the talking. Drink and concede that the world was not as it used to be.  

[hephaestxs]

attaboyutu​

“Kinship, maybe?”  Utu suggested with an eye squint.  “You know how the old adage goes.  You don’t know what you’re missing until it’s gone.  Not even my own sister descended with me this time around and…”  Utu shook his head, blinking as if trying to clear cobwebs from his eyes, a blur from his mind.  “It can affect you.  Maybe even you, Heph,”  Utu added with a small smile.

He looked curious, but didn’t drop Alekto’s name yet as the current hunter for Pan’s murderer.  The one who Utu knew of, anyway.  “What kind of questions?”

With a snort, Utu used his one hand to make air quotes.  “’Inventions’.  More like marketing strategies designed to make the rich richer,”  Utu chuckled as they said it.  “That’s a sample of the usual rhetoric from my java-customers.  Young, youthful humans as bitter as the coffee they drink, ranting and raving over politics and tech.  Oh yeah - your name comes up alongside all the other jillionaires on their zeitgeist hitlist…”  More of the same, as far as Utu was concerned.  Humans were always in turmoil, somewhere in the world.  Things building to a head over monarchies, dictatorships, corporations, trade centres…the pattern was the same, the players just changed.

“Okay, no need to go into details, but.  Maybe just tell me the last time you’d had an actual innovation that wasn’t about pleasing shareholders’ bottom line, Heph.”

Perfected, huh.  Heph looked so sure of himself too.  He wasn’t even proud - Utu didn’t know if Heph was a prideful sort of god, he just had a drive to improve.  Interesting how improvements could create more fallout, more marginalization, more trouble.  But the byproducts and aftereffects rarely seemed to bother Heph, nor did they seem to affect him, even.

Gods could get lonely too.  Utu always felt a pang of adroit loneliness, without his sister.  Did Heph ever feel lonely here, in his tower of steel and innovation? Or were his robotics the perfect company?

“Well, I’ll be happy to trade this in for something new.  Before the planned obsolescence kicks in, since we’re friends,”  Utu smiled, knowing he was pushing the red velvet rope that separated him and Heph, by calling them ‘friends’.  That was a stretch, but a harmless one.

But all talk about politics and profit margins fell to the wayside, with what Heph said next, about Pan.  Utu’s skin turned ashen, their glow faded just a little from their dark eyes.  The hymn that played and bopped along in his head, fell to a background musak level of quiet.  

He only moved, and remembered to breathe, when Heph requested his shoulder.  Utu shifted to accommodate, but their gaze didn’t leave Heph’s face.  “You’re…stars and sun above.  You see the same thing I do.  You…worry about the same thing I do,”  Utu whispered, feeling a wash of borderline-hysterical relief rushing over him, like a sandstorm blowing him over.  Hephaestus of Volcan-X, having the same concerns as Utu - and able to phrase it in a far more eloquent way, as if Heph had it scripted for a digital-conference.

As Utu stated, they’d forgotten all about the arm, even as Heph attached it back to them.  The hymn swelled like a crescendo, and Utu breathed out sundust.  “You think the same thing I do.”

Kinship. Not something that Hephaestus felt perhaps as strongly as Utu did. They were intrinsically intertwined with their sister, half of their soul, their story, but Heph had no such bond with any of his siblings. Or so he told himself. He wasn’t convinced that Utu was on the mark for this one, however in another time perhaps he might delve into Utu’s own kinship. Heph had seen many a god wither and falter without their other half to guide them. Utu was not so lost, yet perhaps he didn’t feel whole without Inanna. 

Utu barrelled onwards taking to a bitter stance on the world they, and the mortals, inhabited. He impassively watched as Utu unpicked inventions as nothing more than a crude design to rake in money, power. There was some truth in it. But Hephaestus had never been motivated by money. Even still he wasn’t strictly free of what Utu suggested, but wasn’t that the point of humanity? They were a cacophony of fuck-ups. The bitterness fuelled change, and change brought the next generation out of the dark. This time, into a neon techno-coloured world of lights.

Volcan-x didn’t involve itself with the trivial, or the mundane. Hephaestus had exclusively focused on reinventing the world of biomech. No more cumbersome prosthetics that need to be recharged manually, or lacked agility and precision. He would’ve offered an assurance that the arm should last another decade, if not more. Heph knew it would take nearly that long to unveil his most prized creation. If they were even accepted.

“Then you see how troubling it is for us to be sprawled across New Orleans like this, bickering amongst ourselves over personal dalliances.” It wasn’t godly. Though the very definition of that had morphed and changed. Heph cast a lingering glance at the wall of screens that had flickered off in the absence of a data-input. The very room they were in had grown quiet, as if the cocoon of tech had sensed the shift in tone. “I know I am not…best liked.” Utu had said it themself. This however, was a calculated confession.

“But we cannot remain isolated like this. I fear a war is coming Utu and not all of us are equipped to deal with that, much less face an opponent that knows a weakness we don’t.” That scared Heph more than anything. How were they all to face this without even knowing how Pan had met his demise? The knife hadn’t killed him. Had it been a rite? A jinx? Heph hated the arbitrary speculation as much as he did the unknown on this occasion. It didn’t feel too much of a leap to believe that Utu thought this too. They had grown sullen as the topic of Pan and the unknowns they were facing, a little of their light fading.

“We need someone to unite us all together. If the mortals have their united nations, then perhaps we should have our own. Committee of gods that act in the favour of us all.” There was an underlying passion, a driving force, behind his words but Hephaestus trod carefully as if expecting a rebuke. “You have long been a keeper of fair judgement but I understand this topic is – delicate. You and him were close, more so than any of us were.”

[hephaestxs]

ofjackals​

Anubis sips his tea - savoring it, the steam carrying the scent of apple and cinnamon to his senses, the taste lingering on his tongue in the aftermath of the heat.  There were such simple but delicate delights to be experienced in a mortal form that were all but foreign to his immortal self.  That’s perhaps why he indulges in such things.  He knows that many of the other gods find their mortal pleasures elsewhere - in the viscera of violence, in the ecstasy of intimacy, in the hording of the material, in the glory of fame… But here, with his pot of tea and the curled paper of books to leaf through, Anubis feels as though his mortal form is - content… Happy even.

Though the happiness is tainted.  Not by the presence of Heph himself, but by the topic of discussion posed.  And posed he assumed it would be at some point.  He had wondered by whom… Considered in the first instance that it might be Kanaloa… But perhaps death was a turn off for the clientele.  

The use of the words ‘beloved friend’ don’t draw any kind of reaction to Anubis’ face, though he’s silently amused at the phrasing.  Was Pan a friend?  He can’t speak particularly for himself - they were never close - perhaps the pantheon were too divninely distinct.  Or perhaps they were just never meant to mesh - a deity of nature - of life and growth and a deity of the afterlife, so intrinsically linked to death, probably weren’t destined to be any kind of playmates.

“I had considered it.”

He says in reference to Pans death not being the first.  It seemed to be an impossible feat - but somehow, it had been accomplished.

‘ you felt his death, did you not ‘

Ah.  Another point that had been somewhat… Perplexing.

“I did not.”

“The passing of a mortal frees the soul… It’s the soul which calls, which needs to be guided upon the path to the afterlife - whichever one they believe in… Or are most deserving of.”

Most deserving of - upon their judgement.  It was not a decision, not an active choice by Anubis to send them on to a paradise or a purgatory.  

“Something I think every immortal is somewhat - lacking in.  We are made of belief and faith.  Of myth and legend.  We are abstract forces woven into stories, given form and feature by that very belief.”

There’s a blink.  A very small shrug.  Throughout the entire musing, Anubis had been focused upon his small cup of tea, only glancing up now to study the others reaction.

“At least, that’s my current working theory.  And as such, upon Peters demise, there was no soul to guide.  No call to answer.  I felt… Nothing.”

“Though now I think there is a flaw to my theory.  How can you destroy a story?  How can you eradicate - belief?  How does one obliterate a force?  And if you found out how, there is - perhaps - a more poignant question.  Why?”

//:

Interesting. There was no doubting Anubis’ theory. They were after all nothing but stories passed down from generation to generation. Living and breathing merely because the mortals believed them to be. An essence of each aspect of a mortal’s life – and also what lay beyond this particular plane. Hephaestus had no feelers in the art of death. It was an ambiguous and foreign world to him in which he would never live. If mortals souls were to be guided. Where had Pan ended up? Did he exist as fragments, as the stories he had left behind, if he ceased to exist – would they all forget him eventually?

Had they forgotten other gods along the way?

“Destroying a story is no different to torching a letter, or a diary. Once the original is gone no other copies can ever be made. We might have anecdotal copies but they do not hold up against the original.” Heph mused aloud. 

Anubis seemed to care more for the pedantic details of how Pan could be destroyed, which was fine. Let them all obsess over whichever part of the story they deemed truly horrifying or puzzling. It was the possibility of it being replicated that was keeping Hephaestus awake. He could not fathom the possibility that more of them could disappear. Cease to exist.

“Pan is an unusual choice, no doubt. Though he had his quarrels with many…what would someone have to gain from his eradication?” Though Hephaestus could certainly name a few that would have a lot to gain from losing Pan. He didn’t often entertain his fellow immortals but he’d heard enough rumour and gossip. Even with FAMA down, and good riddance to that, the gods chatter still reached him.

“I suspect, that he was a test. To see if it were possible. Perhaps they believed everyone would be so relieved to be rid of Pan that we wouldn’t care for the sheer audacity of it. Now this is a queer relation, but I don’t simply just bring new innovations to the masses immediately. They have to be tested. Incase the product fails to reach expectations…”

“Now, I could be wrong. It might’ve been eons of resentment. However, doesn’t it strike you as odd?” He finally takes a sip of his tea. Waiting, watching, and observing the other’s reaction. Anubis was not one that could be easily read. He is in no rush though. Hephaestus would wait to eek out the truth. Even if it was quite likely that Anubis wasn’t in possession of that truth. “What if there was something to be gained from destroying a story, a belief, a force, whatever you choose to call us. Be it power or something else entirely.”

“Rather, it seems likely that it isn’t what if but what can be gained?"

[hephaestxs]

What if you go too far, in the name of advancement? What if you are not immune to hubris?

"What would you define as too far? Was enabling the discovery of pacemakers a step too far? Would you argue that extending human life beyond a meagre one hundred years too much? I do not seek advancements for myself. I'm here to aid humans and shepherd them towards a better future. If that so benefits myself by sustaining the lifeblood on which all of us gods exist on – worship, then so be it.”

[hephaestxs]

attaboyutu​

“Maybe I should leave that little defect, in memory of him,”  Utu mused with a soft sigh.  But he didn’t want to linger on thoughts of Pan too much, at least not his own.  “How’s it been going for you?  I mean - Pan.  He was part of your pantheon.”

With a nod, Utu passively watched as Heph started to investigate the arm.  Their arm.  Sheepishly, Utu added, “You know, it’s been a few years with this thing and I still don’t consider it a part of me.  It’s supposed to, isn’t it.  My brain is supposed to connect it to me like a ghost-limb come true, and I should be saying ‘it’s part of me now, I don’t even notice’ or something, shouldn’t I.  Only…I don’t.  Sure, sometimes I forget it’s there, when I’m dug in focusing on something else.  But everytime I look at it or have to use it, I’m reminded: Oh yeah.  This is a thing and it’s separate from me.”

And as if timed, Utu heard the hiss and immediately sat back, sans arm.  It seemed to sit there between them, yearning.  To be with its master Heph, or to return to the one who borrowed it somehow, in some way?  Maybe Utu was overthinking this, making the biomech out to be some kind of AI when really it was just an instrument.

“Oh har har,”  Utu gave Heph a scrunchy face.  “It’s not that.  I mean - sure I threw some back for Pan’s sake but this was happening before Pan was killed.  Murdered,” Utu corrected themselves.  “How on earth is anyone going to find his killer and bring them to justice.  Cripes.  I hope it’s not up to me.”  Utu was all for judgement and fairness, not much for investigation.  No; Alekto was on the case.  Maybe Veles, if so inclined.

But Heph piled on the reassurances and Utu nodded along, agreeing it was all probably just in their mind.  “The coffee machine breaks.  It’s outdated, I should just upgrade but I prefer to fix things myself.  It’s a rather sweet little power screwdriver; only for delicate tasks.  I fixed a pair of data visors with it once - or, well, the arm of the glasses anyway. It was coming loose.”  Utu figured Heph might enjoy hearing how his fine product was used on the daily.

An easy fix.  Utu gave a small, grateful smile, then nodded again at Heph’s detached condolences.  “How’s business these days?  What’re you working on?  Volcan-X is always innovating, et cetera.”

Utu motioned to the arm.  “How about you invent an arm that doesn’t need upgrades?  You know just…an arm. That’ll last forever, as-is.”

“Pantheon relations do not make for brotherhood, not always.” Whilst it is true, and he had nearly always been at odds with Pan in one way or another. Seeking instead to put distance between them. Hephaestus delivers it with a quietness that’s devoid of passion, or heartbreak. Simply matter of fact. “I don’t envy whomever has to hunt down Pan’s destroyer. That’s no easy task. Still, that in itself brings up questions don’t you think?” Ones that Hephaestus had mused on endlessly in the past few days. That he had started to compile into written notebooks so such questions and potential answers could not be linked digitally to his name, or the company’s. 

“We’re always innovating, yes. Hah.” Hephaestus chuckles. “Planned obsolescence is necessary though to ensure that inventions continue, and markets remain competitive. So, I fear that you likely won’t be getting an upgrade-free arm for some time.” He offers Utu a wan smile, the machines on the wall opposite light up in tandem which suggests that the patch has completed. Hephaestus makes an effort to delay a little while longer by fiddling with wires. Re-running a scan with a diagnostic tool in-built to run certain biomech features whilst checking the overall performance. “Actually, though I cannot speak in great detail as you must understand that such operations are…private.”

“I can say that we might have a solution in the works for your, lack of feeling. Be it either a lack of sensation from the limb itself, such as your biomech fingers or to you not accepting the limb as your own. Our early trials indicate this latest rendition is entirely indistinguishable. We have perfected it.”

The biomech on the table between them beeps happily three times. Everthing is clear.

The speech however, was not the one he had planned to give today. That little unveiling would have to wait until he was sure that his successes with Tsukuyomi could be replicated. “No, my primary worry right now Ash, Utu, is that Pan was only the beginning of something greater. The monsters of our pantheons have been disgruntled for a millennia. Mortals have potential to weaken gods when they refuse to believe and worship us any longer. Something, or someone, out there has destroyed a god, and I believe they will do it again.”

Hephaestus gestures of Utu to lean forwards again, “please place your shoulder here.” He requests. And then proceeds to detach the wires so that Utu can reconnect to the biomech. “I worry we do not have a…united front against whomever this evil is.”

[hephaestxs]

erzulie-the-vamp​

Location: Vamp, at closing @hephaestxs

It had been another hectic night at Vamp, full of tittering young things eager for a night on the town. Erzulie loved them, loved their energy and hunger for life, but they were noisy, unsettled. Groups pushed tables to the side to set up their own little dance floors, ignoring the performers on stage. Perhaps it was a sign  that she needed to revamp Vamp, turn the rarely used VIP room on the mezzanine into a more suitable dance floor. But every renovation cost money, cost more time that Erzulie was tethered to the predatory Tezcatlipoca, who so much enjoyed having Erzulie in her debt.

But those were thoughts for a fresh mind, not one which was shot after bouncing between the bar and the stage and the floor all evening. As the last of the crowd was pushed out Erzulie came to the stage, ostensibly to tidy away a boa Hebe had left draped over the piano. As always, the pianist tickled away at the keys, and Erzulie waved a dismissive hand at them, ‘I couldn’t possibly…!’, but this was a routine that played out every night, nearly every night. With a little more encouragement Erzulie came to the microphone and began her soliloquy, a mixture between spoken word and song, her reassurances and wishes.

“I hope you have had a magical evening, that you are safe and welcome and loved when you return tonight. Be true to your own power, your own magic, your own soul, and goodness will find you,” she finished, smiling to the few people that had lingered throughout closing.

Erzulie kissed the pianist goodbye on each cheek, and then the stage manager. She slunk her way back to the bar and poured herself a delicate drink, gigglewater and elderflower liqueur. Glowing embers caught her eye in a distant booth and Erzulie smiled. She poured a whiskey and sauntered over to his booth.

“Sa fè lontan, Matthew,” Erzulie remarked, placing a hand on Hephaestus’ shoulder and giving him a friendly squeeze. It had been a long time since she had seen Hephaestus in Vamp, not that she blamed him. It had been a hectic time, not only at Vamp, but with Pan’s death… Even the thought of it pained her chest, so it was best not to let her thoughts linger. “It is good to see you,” Erzulie said, placing his drink before him and sitting in the booth opposite. “I have missed your company.” Hephaestus was notoriously grumpy and short worded but had she missed him! Erzulie pulled her long braids over her shoulder, all the better to show off the glistening neckline of her baby blue dress.

“How is… everything?” she asked, knowing she should ask about the memorial. The memorial she had skipped from grief, from fear that she might run her mouth off at Utu or cause a scene or that her heart would simply break in two.

Hephaestus didn’t like the noise of Vamps. That wasn’t what drew him. It wasn’t the girls either. Despite the gossip that suggested otherwise. He wasn’t interested in the drinks. Though he was content to occasionally sip something in the shaded back booth. Never alot. Never to the point of consumption. It was a little ritual coming to Vamps. To linger even once the dancers had long gone and the musicians were beginning to pack away. Tonight, he had made it in time for one last performance. Not just anyone. The goddess herself. Hephaestus burned through a cigar listening to her performance. He knew it was her even with his back to the stage. The silk of her voice ebbed and flowed through Vamps. Even though this was her place. Even though it was utterly her domain. She had always felt a step above. She was meant for greatness.

It wasn’t every night that he came, and out of those nights not all of them did they even talk. He had burnt through his cigar and was deciding whether to up and leave when a hand found his shoulder. Erzulie adorned with her illusive smiles and jewels. She had brought him a drink, so he could scarcely refuse and leave now. Not when they hadn’t spoken for some weeks. It hadn’t been that way intentionally. Only, affairs had kept Hephaestus busy. She hadn’t been at the memorial, which shouldn’t have been a surprise, but he had hoped she might come. If only so there was a friendly face.

She was here now.

“You’re keeping well I hope?” He asks. Not touching the glass of whiskey yet as he discards the stubby end of his cigar. “Me? Everything is fine. Well, except for the obvious.” Pan was dead, destroyed. Tsukuyomi was a growing worry. Heph sighed. And after a moment or two he simply says. “I’m just glad to see you.” Which is one truth. It isn’t often that Hephaestus speaks in plain truths. 

Hephaestus half-wonders if he might ask they speak in private. If only because half of the questions he wants to ask cannot be spoken about so openly. But, such a request has connotations. Never more so than with Erzulie. Queen of love, earth and sisterhood. 

“I didn’t see you at the memorial…” 

[hephaestxs]

mcgaera​

As far as expectations went… hers were not met. The funeral was a bore, drunken, intoxicated gods pretending they gave a shit about Pan. She knows well enough what this is - feigned mourning and fake smiles, hiding questions and accusations in everyone’s eyes. Who dun it? Did you do it? Or you? Or you? - she didn’t need telepathy to hear it, everyone could see it written clearly in the eyes, and the posture, of the divine beast they spoke to. Such hypocrisy, such mindless pretense.

But, so long as it was not heartbreak, she didn’t care to punish the pettiness of Gods.

Since no festivity ( even a funeral ) could go without a good drink, Megaera plucked a glass of perfectly chilled gin, watching as the ice cubes bumped against each other, clinking together when she swirled the alcohol in the crystal glass. Taking a sip, and humming in what came as close to approval as she could muster in public, her attention diverted once again to the divines in attendance - boring, annoying, annoying, insolent, volatile, boring, boring-tedious, and - oh!

Locking eyes with one of her favourite Gods ( she played favourites. but seldom in her own pantheon. he was a rarity and an exception to her usual snarls ), Meg’s lips drew into a grin, effortlessly crossing the room until she stood in front of Hephaestus. Hearing the question, the eriny of jealousy laughed. “And have everyone miss out on seeing me in this dress? Not a chance, even I am not that cruel.”

·"I admit there’s no love lost between him and I. I would’ve preferred to be the one who staked him, but… He was crafty with his heartbreaks, played his infidelities as one night stands. Can’t argue with a drunken, meaningless liaisons. Bastard found a loophole.” She clicked her tongue in disapproval, attention back on Heph. “And you? Did you come here to make sure he’s staying 6 feet under?”

“I wouldn’t say that so loud kindly one.” Hephaestus puffed on his cigar that was close to being burnt out. It would be a shame to waste any given the cost that went into procuring such a rarity. The electronic devices had come on leaps and bounds in the last century. Still, there were downsides to them. Much less that they never authentically recreated the feel of real smoke. If Hephaestus couldn’t be hunched over a furnace any longer in the thick heat of a workshop, then so be it, he would have his fire contained in a neat little cigar. Megaera, well, she was spritely as ever. The furies were an odd trio that Hephaestus had never cared for, with only Meg becoming an exception in this particular descension.

He watched her, so effortless and boundlessly beautiful as the mortals would say. Heph found he couldn’t comment on the dress. It wasn’t within his remit. But he did smile, ever so slightly. “He’s gone,” he said plainly, when rumours of Pan’s disappear had circulated he had called back to Olympus. Had quickly learnt that Pan was not there. Not anywhere for that matter. The body in itself which Heph had first thought was nothing but chit-chatter was a telltale sign something was off. “And, I think you’re giving him too much credit.”

“What of it now, then kindly one? Will you hunt his destroyer? No doubt your sisters will be out for vengeance.” In their own ways. Heph had steered clear of them both. Only involving himself with Tisiphone when it was necessary. “My fears are that this is only the beginning of something greater,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “If someone–something–some beings have learnt how to destroy a god, how long is it until they turn on the rest of us?”

[hephaestxs]

ofjackals​​

It’s a small place.  But they have books.  Considered vintage for the most part.  Quaint decor to some.  Mostly though - outdated, obsolete.  Why put words on paper when you can’t update the feed?  Can’t blast the most recent flash directly into peoples brains, stream it into their eyes and ears from the latest implant or wearable or device?

Anubis enjoys them.  His mortal form finds some kind of pleasurable satisfaction in turning pages rather than doom-scrolling.  The tactile nature of them is ultimately pleasing… Word pages, faded type… 

There a few other trinkets and antiquities around, either beneath little domes or inside glass cases, to be gazed upon or purchased by an occasional collector.  There’s something about being surrounded by the past that sets this mortal form at ease.  Which is probably entirely not the case for his… ‘guest’.  Or is he the guest?  Hard to tell.  But there’s steaming tea, in a proper china pot, with places set for two at the small table in the ‘book nook’.

Anubis ponders as he nibbles on a little cookie whether this would set Hephaestus ill at ease.  With no wires or neon, no cables…  Though there were discrete jacks beneath chairs for those who chose to indulge in new alongside the old.  It wasn’t entirely Anubis’ intention to set the other on edge, but if he were to hear out Hephaestus proposal, then he’d rather be somewhere he could focus… Could… Think.

And while the snug corner appears shaded ( Anubis presence seeping into the atmosphere a little ) it darkens even further when a substantial form blocks out the light.

“Matthew.”

His chair shuffles back with a small scuff-squeak on the wooden floor, Anubis standing and gesturing to the opposite seat.  

“Please, sit.  Try the tea.  It has quite an impeccable flavour.”

He doesn’t hold out his hand though.  Physical contact is still somewhat pushing boundaries.  He’s not exactly what you’d call - ‘a hugger’.

Minor pleasantries aside…  This little tete-a-tete has a point.  A purpose.  There are things to be consulted - apparently.  And curiosity is somewhat getting the better of him ( at least he’s a dog, not a cat, so hopefully there would be no killing of small domesticated creatures today ).

 “You wished to discuss something?”

The last few days had been unsettling. Hephaestus felt uneasy but he wouldn’t let that show. He was however addressing the gods, individually, who had some sway, presence or enough reason about them. Anubis. A curious god who kept to himself. Who chose somewhere quiet, ancient, and without a decadent over-use of technology. Hephaestus unbuttoned his jacket, pleased by this little find, he would have to make note of it for future uses. There weren’t many places in the city that were untouched any longer. Even the gardens had been brought into the digital world – curtesy of course by Volcan-x technology.

His empire is vast. Which, is pleasing but he is not so fool to surround himself in smart-technology in day to day life. There is still a part of him that yearns for the eons gone by that were simpler. When craftsmanship boiled down to what you could create out of metal. Not a computer chip.

“Tarek,” he greets. 

The cafe is quaint. The little corner that Anubis has found himself in is dark, apt one might suppose. He sits in the seat opposite and examines the spread before him. Tea pot, cups, it could’ve been afternoon tea in another life.

He pours himself and cup, surprisingly quite content to sip the offered tea which is warm, spiced and faintly sweet. It is entirely agreeable. “It’s lovely,” he answers, with a tilt of his head. Too hot to drink it properly so he sets it aside for now.

“Yes, there’s no easy way to come around to such a topic. However, I imagine it is on everyone’s minds as of right now.” He let’s out a sigh as if the matter physically pained him. “The death of our beloved friend Peter, it has shaken us all no doubt, and I fear his death might be the first.” 

Thus far he’d had mixed responses whenever he suggested such a notion. For the most part. Most gods were too caught up in their own hubris to believe it could possibly happen to them. Fools. Then, there were those that believed whatever this was it was a one-off. An act of unspeakable violence. 

It was that, but it was planned and it was an act of war. First however, he must gauge just how pliable Anubis would be to his suggestions. “We cannot let it happen again, there will be those that say it is impossible. Peter was not…he wasn’t defenceless.” No matter how hard they tried to paint him as wholly innocent. “Apologies, this is an indelicate matter but you felt his death, did you not?”

[hephaestxs]

attaboyutu​

“Thank you, Mr Stewart, thanks Ami,” Utu replied, both compulsive and bemused.  Heph’s ways were…his own, and frankly Utu never tried to understand the Greek god too deeply.  A pragmatic mystery was as far as Utu went, and that served their relationship - what it was - just fine.  Utu was a client, Heph was the provider.  Pan vouched for Heph, strangely enough, and assured Utu that Heph worked in the best interests of the gods.   

That didn’t seem exactly accurate, but it was Pan-speak, so Utu accepted it with their usual good faith.

A good faith that Utu also extended to Hephaestus.  “Did you expand?” Utu asked, motioning to the building.  “Seems bigger since the last time I was here.  Or maybe I’ve grown smaller.”  A gentle joke, to try and crack through Heph’s formality.  Utu didn’t know why they even needed to break formality, but then Utu wasn’t big on the modern overly professional scene. Severe work attire and merchant manners seemed gauche.  Then again, if Utu were living as an actual human, he’d be considered ‘old money’; wealthy enough that he didn’t need to flaunt it.

They settled in ‘Suite Twenty’, retaining their benevolent smile as Heph went through the script. “Okay.  Full detail, huh.”  Utu rest their biomech arm on the table before them, but didn’t remove it.  “I’d say since Pan’s memorial, it’s been acting up.  The grip’s not balanced; when I hold or reach for things now, it destroys them.  Two glasses and a tube of toothpaste already,”  Utu chuckled.  “Also it makes a weird humming…no, more like a whine that seems to get higher and higher, like it’s warming up to do something?  So I wait but then…nothing happens.  And my finger tools are unresponsive, except for the power drill-screwdriver in my middle finger.  Which…”  Utu gave Heph a wry look.  

“If Pan were alive, I’d say he was playing a prank on me, with that one.” Utu said, demonstrating by accessing the drill, as he flipped Heph the bird. 

“Also…”  Utu powered their arm down, but traced along the sleek reticulated palm.  “Does biomech parts ever talk?  Like - not aloud, that’s be crazy.  But more like…in the client’s head?”

Hephaestus uncuffs his sleeves to push them up his arms, there was no harm in protecting one’s shirt from black grease. It was impossible to get out and Heph didn’t liked to needlessly waste a good shirt. Humming come whining noise. He’d already motioned to the suite to record Utu’s detailed report. But he watched as the information was relayed up onto the screen. The triage phase felt complete, that was until Utu held up one finger to illustrate that his add-on screwdriver still worked, and even Hephaestus was not immune to smiling at that. He hums, turning with a half-chuckle to fetch a trolley of tools. “It sounds like the kind of prank the satyr would pull,” he adds, dry as ever.

Finally, Heph sits beside them, “may I?” He asks, a curtesy, before he taps the concealed central panel in a rhythmic pattern. It pops open and reveals a trio of buttons within Utu’s bicep. Heph presses down two together and the entire arm hisses, the connection between craft and the god themself, severed. “You can relax now, I’ll just run some diagnostics to see if we can find the issue…”

He considers them for a moment. “Talk?” Now, he hadn’t ever considered the possibility but it’s not out of the question. It was different for him. His craft sung to him. But for someone without that gift to hear the tales of his creations, that felt highly improbable. “We don’t really know each other Utu,” he uses his godly name, but only because he knows the room is private. And, partly because he thinks that they would warm to it. 

“But I would recommend not letting…narcotics cloud your judgement.” There’s definitely truth in there. Heph smiles as momentarily claps Utu on the shoulder. “Your arm is not a living being, it cannot speak to you. Unless it is haunted by the satyr, but let’s not dwell on that.”

The memorial – a queer affair for a god. It had ended in a bacchanal that was surely befitting of a god like Pan, but Heph had found the ordeal distasteful. No doubt he’d left before it had gotten too ugly, but nonetheless it had been too much. “No, I promise you. They’re just made out of a circuit, chips and depending on how much you pay, potentially carbon fibre. I believe Pan really went out of his way to ensure you had the best, of the best. That includes the drill.”

“Curious choices for extras though.”

He’s definitely not going to ask about the other extras. He’s seen worse.

Heph works to attach wires into the now-exposed socket of Utu’s biomech. A little light in the concealed compartment flashes green to demonstrate a connection. He huffs, arms crossed as he watches the diagnostics roll. “It looks like you might have had a faulty firmware update…”

“Luckily for you, that’s an easy fix. Apologies for this. The unglamorous side of progress isn’t it. And,” Heph pauses.

“My condolences I know you were close to Pan, perhaps more so than any of us. I never spoke to you properly at the memorial, and I had to duck out of the gathering afterwards early, sorry. You know how it is when business calls. Pan, well, I can’t lie and say I loved the man but he didn’t deserve such an end.”