SWITCHBLADE.

i'll do the startling thing, i'll have the knife in my teeth, i'll be the star – you can be the horrified one.

[megareus]

( Morning after the Chaos ball, before the Asphodel meeting / @tiziphone )

Don’t ask how Megara gets into Tisiphone’s room; he just does, okay? Fury powers, psychic connections, something something static charge. Meg winked at the door and it had no choice but to oblige.

Tisi has to hear the lock click but Meg announces themself with a soft whistle anyway, taking their time to slip out of their shoes and ditch their jacket in a chair by the door. They set the cold brew they’ve brought her on the bedside table before taking the space next to her on top of the covers, stretching their legs out in front of them and folding their hands on their stomach. Let the silence stretch for a moment. “What a fucking night, huh?” He stifles a yawn. Turns his head to look at his friend. “I’m a little jealous, to be honest. I left early and still saw more than I ever wanted to.”

“Anyway. Have anything to share with the class, Tis? How was your ‘quiet evening in’?”

[alectocarrion]

with: @megareus​ when: february 2130 (week two) where: pontius (kalavria)

It’s only the second week, and still, the feeling of being split in several directions hasn’t left Alecto. The threat of succumbing even further into their familiarity only grows after the party. After Than knelt at her hand, after she gave Hypnos the seashells she’d collected for them, even Dusa in the bathroom. Their safe haven of scented candles and marble walls, a chair pushed in front of the door to keep anyone else from entering. 

There were plenty of things to draw Alecto in. The threat of falling prey to them under the gaze of others was what kept her withdrawn. To blow the operation this early? It would be childish. She’d been careless with a lot of things, but this was important to her. It had to be, after all of this preparation, after all of the thought put into this, after testing Nyx and Hades’ boundaries on what they would allow her to do. 

To make it worth something, she had to not fuck it up. But to do that, she had to stop seeking them out. 

This time, though, this time it is not Alecto who seeks out Meg. Instead, they stand on the other end of a very long hallway. It’s like every other time, and Alecto is beginning to fucking hate Pontius and its stupid hallways. Things had been tense, the last they left them, and they weren’t sure they were in the right mind to address it, or even assess the damage that’d been done. 

Alecto isn’t the type to avoid, but there’s a first time for everything. Like a child, they turn on their heel and stalk in the opposite direction, legs carrying them to a dead end. “Fucking fates, fuck you, and fuck Chaos, too.” 

[megareus]

Megara jogs after her, but stops a few yards away, noting the dead end; he knows better than to make himself the body between Alecto and the only escape route. Carefully, like approaching a caged lion, he steps to the side, approaching at an angle, the path out open beside him, every movement telegraphed. He keeps his hands in his pockets, casual.

“Alecto?” He’s close enough to catch the tail-end of her muttering, and frowns. “Did something happen? What are you doing?”

[eurydiceoscine-deactivated20220]

with: @megareus​ when: february 2130 (week two) where: pontius (kalavria)

Eurydice isn’t sure when it happens. There’s a shift in their vision, a familiar head of blonde hair – the height. She feels like she’s shrinking, and before she knows it, she’s getting out of her seat, beelining for the door. Somebody tries to stop her, to tell her that the panel hasn’t started, but she’s shaking her head and brushing past them. 

Fumbling with her phone, she takes it out, texts Meg the moment she pushes into the stairwell. There are few people who linger, most of which already inside, eagerly awaiting the up and coming tech debuts, while others have taken to retiring to their rooms in preparation for the next. There was always something more, always somebody trying to outdo somebody else. 

Competition – it was something she was used to. But being faced with the sister of the man she’d killed in unison with that? Tensions were already high, and Eurydice was worried that any moment, somebody within the Asphodels would crumble beneath some kind of invisible weight. Herself included. 

They wait at the second set of stairs, knees pulled to their chest, chin cradling between. The sound of the door opening at the top of the staircase has them turning slightly, and when Meg comes into view, they feel the tension in their shoulders melt. “I didn’t know who else to text. I could’ve– I don’t know.” Brushing the hair out of their eyes, Eurydice takes a deep breath. “She’s everywhere, Meg. Circe.” Not to be confused with Orpheus, she wants to say, wants to designate that that’s not what the issue is here.

[megareus]

Meg rounds the corner of the stairwell and crouches down next to Eurydice, leaning forward to push the rest of the hair out of her face. They study her for a moment, catalogue her expression, before leaning back with a sigh and sliding into a more comfortable seat at her side.

“Well. It is her boat.” He doesn’t waste time on greetings, slipping into the conversation as if it were already ongoing, maybe forever. He does wonder if it would be kinder to feign surprise, but when has he done the kind thing? Truthfully, he’s been expecting this moment since they first stepped foot in the damn place; it was only ever a matter of time. “But she can’t be everywhere. Even Poseidon hasn’t figured out teleportation yet.”

A pause. The air in the stairwell is heavy, almost humid. Meg picks at the outside seam of his pant leg with a thumbnail, a gnawing gesture, like he’s trying to tear a hole in the fabric. Looks into the middle distance with a thoughtful squint. “What happens when you see her? What are you so afraid of?” He looks at her. Knocks his shoulder against hers. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, you know.”

[megareus]

goldentheseus​:

theseus was halfway through his hors d’oeuvre when a hand slipped through his arm, and there was meg – like a shadow that descended upon all that was pleasant and good in the world. it shouldn’t have been legal to be such a creepy beauty, that was certain, but theseus had never much cared for things that were strictly legal, had he? 

he oughtn’t be surprised that he’d finally secured meg’s interest. this was how he worked: an acquired taste, really. and so, knowing that, he realized that he truly could not fuck this up for himself. he attempted to keep his cool, calm collection and shoved the other half of his hors d’oeuvre in his coat pocket, grimacing slightly as it squished against fabric. he only had one shot at this. 

and meg delivered something exquisite, the ( possibly true, possibly false ) secret hanging between them for a beat too long. theseus wrapped his hand around the arm meg had given him and patted it gently. “my sweet little nutmeg, have no fear. i’ll keep you safe. i’m an abnormally strong swimmer. my mother used to call me her little tadpole.” he almost wished the glass bottom boat would crack underneath them, sending them both plummeting downward just so that he could rescue meg. he would emerge from the water, dripping and glorious and cradling the fury, and meg would swoon and – he cleared his throat. 

“best thing to do in a case like yours is to stay distracted, my dear.” now time for the close… he waved over the bartender, gesturing for them to refill meg’s glass. “i think we should take over the tour. you’re a master of disguise, aren’t you? isn’t that your whole thing? we take over the tour and make up a bunch of fish and see how long it takes someone to notice.”

– A group of guests shuffles between them and Briseis, blocking their view, and Meg moves away from Theseus, pleasant expression abruptly shifting, shooting him a look like he’s just suggested they go for a nice little afternoon swim. “That’s a fucking terrible idea. I’m supposed to be keeping a low profile. Does leading a fake fish tour sound like keeping a low profile to you?”

They don't acknowledge Theseus' comment about being an 'abnormally' strong swimmer, or his mother's little tadpole– Megara refuses to accept that Theseus was ever a child– but then the crowd is shifting again anyway, pulling his attention with it, and Meg is back to trying not to stare a hole through the back of Briseis’ skull. The Quorum member and the button-nosed stranger have been joined by Briseis’ senior aide; over their boss’ shoulder, the aide blinks in Meg’s direction, sends him a considering look, possibly because he's glaring like a hell-hound at the chatting trio. Meg quickly breaks the eye contact, moving close to Theseus once again and pulling him into what from the outside must look like– one hopes– a serious conversation.

“This is a horrible color on you.” Megara says it quietly enough that only Theseus can hear. Absently, he reaches forward and fixes the collar of his shirt where it’s been twisted in the wind, smoothing the fabric around it and wiping away a few specks of invisible dust. When they’re done they flick him lightly on the nose, like a misbehaving pug, before retracting their hand. “You can’t just wear shit like this, Theseus. You’re representing Tartarus, not the Pontius gift shop. Do you enjoy the attention?" Meg does, actually, regardless of their scowl– next to Theseus’ boldness he blends into the background, a pretty piece of furniture dressed in shades of blue. Still, even with Theseus at their side, it’s clear the afternoon’s plan has become a bust– what with how the QM seems to be surrounded by their people at every turn, and with one of said employees already eyeing Meg with curiousity. “Fuck, I want to get off this boat.” Meg mutters darkly in the direction of Theseus’ shoulder, too focused to bother with eye contact until they’re addressing him directly. “Do you have any contacts amongst the Arcadians at the summit? I need an introduction to Krisia’s senior aide. On strictly social grounds. I don’t want to bring attention to my own ties to Tartarus yet.”

[megareus]

( Week one of the Kalavria Summit / Boat tour / @goldentheseus )

Their boat has paused in what looks to Megara like nothing, the middle of nowhere, all blue blue blue whatever-the-fuck. The floor of the boat is made of glass and if they look down, they can see right into the water, lit up far too clear in the late afternoon sun; last time they spared a glance down there they saw the tail of something slip past, something quick and flickering and smooth-bellied, and felt the blood drain from their face. Humans aren’t meant to be this far out in the ocean, they think. Out here we’re all just pre-minced fish food.

Luckily, there is a drink in their hand– it’s always cocktail hour on Pontius– and they’ve got a job to do. They’re currently hard at work trying to catch Briseis’ alone, but everytime they see that familiar head swivel past, some random stranger catches the Quorum Member’s ear first, and they have to make a sudden, sharp detour to avoid an awkward conversation. This time, as they get close to Bris, the person to intercept them is an unfortunately familiar face– short, brunette, button nose. They laugh, and it comes with the nasal accent of an Arcadian. Yeah, Meg absolutely blew them off at the pool party last night. Fuck.

Meg swerves to their right with much more purpose than they really feel, towards the first familiar face, and tries to make it look natural. Ridiculous they haven’t managed to catch the QM alone yet, this entire boat ride– it’s the fucking eels throwing them off, isn’t it? They slip their hand into the crook of Theseus’ arm, bump their shoulder with his like old pals. Lean in to whisper. “Theseus, I need to tell you something. You’re going to love it.” They smile, in case anyone is watching, haha, what a great little joke I’m telling my friend! Not awkwardly stalking Briseis Krisia at all! Time to draw out a real reaction, now, sell the scene. “Did you know I’m actually– deathly– afraid of the ocean? You can’t tell but I’m trembling, I swear.”

[reushq]

ABOUT

Name: Megara Kiraz. Suggested Occupations: Fury, occasional Fixer for Khton Corporate. Age: 32. Gender & Pronouns: Nonbinary, he/they. FC Suggestion: Alp Navruz. Can be seen: Sending fake rumours about Orpheus to gossip accounts, arm wrestling Zagreus, leaving long voice notes in the Furies’ group chat, helping Eurydice behind the bar, compiling reports for Nyx, signalling Tisiphone via complex eyebrow raises, hearing too much about Thanatos’ professional life, running security updates on the casino’s Cassandra.

STATS

Influence  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Charisma  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Protection  ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ Information ★ ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ Experience ★ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

CODEX

Of all of Tartarus’ children, Megara is the one who truly understands the worth of their sunken citadel. Where others have rejected the kingdom’s gifts, the opportunities it offers, the lessons ground so early into its children’s bones, Megara doesn’t receive such blessings lightly. The eldest Fury truly understands: no one is promised anything in this life. To have a chance of thriving, even in hell, is more than she’d ever take for granted. I often believed Tartarus should be written down as Megara’s mother, the depth who made hordes of children and bound them by oath. She certainly refers to the region not as a place, but as a parent. And is there any family on earth better welded than theirs, the children of Asphodel?

Throughout their long, fraught childhoods, no was the only answer to that. Anything else was so unthinkable it could not even be dreamt, and Megara would sneer at them for trying. Why seek a life above the trenchant dark that loathed and loved them? What other place could understand them? Or, better said, dare claim them? But then Orpheus was gone. And the days of childhood ended. When Zagreus praised the musician’s cowardice - no, encouraged them, to boot, saying everyone should strive to leave Tartarus - she stopped speaking with him for months. By then, Megara was already a Fury, of course. She excels in spying, I think, not because she is deceiving, but precisely because she is incorruptible. She has no weaknesses and no vices - which means, ultimately, there is no leverage to sway her. 

This is what people fail to understand about Megara, as they do about most of the furies: they believe in what the depths gave them. Their devotion can rival the idealism of Poseidon’s fans, or the enchanted faith of Olympe supporters. They truly see in Tartarus what Hades, Nyx, and Persephone saw all those years ago - a land free from the rules and fights of others, away from Gaian hypocrisy and Arcadian morals. As a result, they want nothing more than to keep it safe, and make sure it prospers on the back of rich sheep.

I recall her fervid declaration that Orpheus would come crawling back: to one who has lived too long in the dark, she told her sisters, what can the sun do but render them blind? But Eurydice had plans to follow. When she clasped Megara’s hand, begging to be initiated among the spies for a penny more, the Fury was dissuading. Yet, in the end, she realized that helping Eurydice to join the sisterhood was better than letting her flee in the night. I think a part of her believed the dream of Olympe will die as it arose, a half-fledged whisper in the gardens. It was a scorn mixed with conviction: the stuff of martyrs, prophets and fools.

We all know what happened with Eurydice’s stint as a Fury. Or, I should say, none of us know what happened, only that it was sordid and irreversible, and swiftly swept back into the dark. I cannot know whether Megara blames herself, or whether she believes her friend is safer here, even as an outlaw, than she would be as a beggar in Olympe. In a world that owes you nothing, how many are fortunate enough to be raised within a fortress? 

These days, Eurydice stays out of numbness - and necessity. But other Asphodels make plans to leave. Megara looks at Hypnos, whose shadow grows thinner, whose eyes hold more distant lights by the day, and knows she will lose them to the surface. Zagreus is half gone, anyway, and Thanatos is only ever half present, sent on his shady exploits. It seems only Tisiphone and Alecto remain to her, and she holds to them with a fierceness bordering obsession. At some point Megara’s rage must falter, and betrayal must give way to grief. Asphodel is no longer the future, but the past, and nobody can hold time in their jaw - not even someone as resolute as her. I fear the recent invitation to Olympe will prove that once and for all. Is there any family on earth better welded than theirs, the children of Asphodel? If asked, Megara’s answer remains unchanged. But the question is no longer rhetorical.

CONNECTIONS

Familial connections: Alecto & Tisiphone (family can be darkness, not just blood alone).

Professional connections: Hades (big boss, the final word to obey). Nyx (direct superior, guiding figure, they share the same vision). Achilles (security point man, constant collaborator). Minotaur (security guard; not to be trusted, but a calculated risk). Sisyphus (former superior, disgraced, deserves worse than they got). Theseus (financial henchman, needs Hades’ boot on his throat more).

Social connections: Zagreus (embarrassing ex, unfortunately endearing). Dusa (companion and protege, deserves all the shots). Eurydice (Asphodel member, close to heart; questionable tastes in romance and morals). Orpheus (former Asphodel member, thus always to traitors). Hypnos (Asphodel member; reliable entertainment, already learns to miss them). Thanatos (Asphodel member, friendly rivalry; she resents how far his reach extends). Athena (suspects a tie to Tisiphone; intends to watch her closely).

WRITTEN BY AZA.

[megareus]

waistofthebeast​:

“A savage desire for strong emotions and sensations burns inside me: a rage against this soft-tinted, shallow, standardized and sterilized life, and a mad craving to smash something up, a department store, say, or a cathedral, or myself.”

– H. Hesse, Steppenwolf