❝ RHYS CHASE. ❞
NARCISSUS. OLYMPUS. ❝ beauty is a form of genius ― is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. it is one of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or springtime,
or the reflection in the dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon.
it cannot be questioned.
it has divine right of sovereignty.
it makes princes of those who have it. ❞
― oscar wilde, the picture of dorian gray var sc_project=12078039; var sc_invisible=0; var sc_security="24f3a66e"; var scJsHost = "https://"; document.write("");
Felicia glanced at the amber liquid first before looking up at Rhys. The human headache. She looked past him, signals blaring in her head. “Dunno if that’s right, but sure.” Ah, so someone noticed she wasn’t drinking. Figures, she hoped he would’ve been too self involved. “Who said I was sober?” She scoffed, taking a sip of the whiskey. As she sipped, her eyes scanned the crowd, searching for any signs of the other Olympians. Rosalyn would be wondering where she was. “Seems like you’re already bored.”
Rhys chucked. “My kind of girl.” If she already had a headstart on drinking, that made his job a lot easier. He grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, keeping ammunition on hand for when Felicia finished his glass of whiskey.
“Don’t worry about me, I know how to keep myself entertained.” It’d be a lot easier if he could get sloppy drunk on a job, but he was more professional than Elysians. This one seemed to have her eyes on anyone other than him; Rhys wasn’t used to that. “If you’re looking for Samael, I saw them go out on the balcony with Yasmin a few moments ago.” He said it casually, as though they were simply talking about the weather instead of her ex and her boss. But he’d drudge up any of Felicia’s old singing skeletons if it meant getting to the bottom of whatever the fuck she had planned that night.
"Thirsty?” He handed Felicia his untouched whiskey, which she didn’t have to know he fetched (har har) specifically for her. “Bartender fucked up my order before going on break, of course. I can’t even drink whiskey — celiac disease.” Rhys didn’t have celiac disease and distilled alcohol was gluten-free anyway, but again, Felicia didn’t have to know any of that. “These boring events are impossible to enjoy while sober, don’t you think?”
i wonder how i’m gonna die. will i be shot because they’re jealous of my massive penis? car crash because i’m distracted by my massive penis? die of old age, i have a massive penis
“Some Elysian motherfucker seriously just asked me, ‘What’s HOV?’” Rhys grumbles at Melodi’s side as he slides up to her with practiced ease. He’s there partly because he needs to vent, but mostly he’s trying to brush off the desperate socialite who lost his interest the second she revealed that she blew her inheritance on some island festival scam last year. “Worst part is, I can’t even drink enough to forget I ever heard such a stupid question. Boss lady wants me to fuck another Elysian — the three-headed dog, know her? — and I can’t afford to get sloppy tonight. Either fuck her or fuck with her, she didn’t specify. I’d prefer the latter.” He enviously eyes a tray of champagne flutes being carried by a passing waiter, cursing Luli for actually giving him work to do. “I’d ask how your night has been, but I’m too involved with mine to care.” It’s one of the few honest things he’ll ever say that night, a privilege reserved for one of the few people he doesn’t have to pretend to tolerate. Melodi better fucking appreciate it.
“You’ve got a Band-Aid?” To the naked eye, Rhys’ hands were just as smooth and blemish-free as always. But the minuscule papercut he got from God-know’s-where — most likely from the Benjamins he pilfered from that oil magnate’s wallet a few moments ago — was too irritating for him to overlook. The struggles of living with sticky fingers.
Plus, it gave him a good excuse to fish out some information from Elysian’s physician, who used to be Olympus’ physician, if Rhys recalled correctly. This whole breakup was messier than a TLC show. “The clear kind, don’t come at me with those tacky ‘flesh’-colored ones,” he said, knowing that people tended to let their guard down around him when he played up his shallow antics. “Kanye threw a fit when Kim bought him the flesh-colored kind on the show, so naturally I live by those same principles. But obviously, I’m on Team HOV because he’s the billionaire of the two.”
“A pretty little bird told me you have a yacht,” Rhys said, eyes shining. He offered one of the two champagne flutes in his hand to the CEO, his networking cap on tight. He always wanted a yacht, an all the other shallow signs of wealth the world had to offer him. “Are the rumors true? Because if that’s the case, I want to know why the hell we’re here instead of partying on the water.” There was, admittedly, a lot to admire about Tyler. Most of those things Rhys cared about had dollar signs in front of them. “I keep telling Luli she should expand the hotel to a cruise line — they say that’s where the real money is. Though they also say that out of Harvey’s Big Three, you’re the money-making expert. I’d love to hear your take on this.”
The open bar was... a bit of a disappointment, to be quite honest. Not that Rhys planned on getting intoxicated — he wasn’t sloppy. But he deserved a treat, too. Good thing he had his ways of schmoozing the bartender to pour him a glass of the top-shelf Scotch they’d been reserving for the Mayor. The way he saw it, his taxes paid for the Mayor’s salary, so he was entitled to the same drink.
The logic would’ve been more sound if Rhys actually paid taxes.
“Bartenders are so fucking stingy,” Rhys drawled, side-eyeing Russell as he indulged in his only drink for the night. It was so worth it. “How does it feel to be on the other side?” There was a little condensation in Rhys’ voice when he spoke, though he wondered how a measly bartender ended up being a guest at this gala instead of working it. Hera must’ve been really fond of her toys. “Nice to see that Vicky gave you the night off — or is your shift up next?”
“Dan, you’re like the closest person I’ve ever met to the guy in America Psycho. And I think you might think that that’s a compliment, but that’s just because a part of your brain is missing."
Luli was good at talking, actually. Not many people knew her prowess in the board room, but that mattered very little in her line of work anyways. Not when there were people out there who could do all the smooth talking for her. Still, it was good to make sure the investors were none the wiser and actually could believe Luli was just as good as Harvey. Even if she herself didn’t believe it.
It frankly didn’t matter what Luli did or didn’t believe in. What mattered was that the right people believed in her. And while that number may be dwindling, she was determined to rise like a phoenix. This dress didn’t cost what it did for her to fail. Just as she was going to wish the broker in front of her a good evening, Rhys swooped in, all charm and grace. It would’ve been annoying had it been anyone else, but she was grateful for the distraction. “If you’ll excuse me, feel free to have as much champagne as you’d like tonight.” She beamed a winning smile before letting Rhys drag her away, a knowing look on her face as he turned to kiss her cheek. “There’s always a plan, darling,” she hummed, taking a small sip from her flute. “Hades is up to something.” Because of course they are. “Might do you good to have a nice dance with Cerberus. And Deimos.” She narrowed her eyes at Rhys before slipping him a key card to one of the Mount Olympus rooms. “Just in case.”
She liked to think Samael’s followers were smarter than to get charmed by Rhys. She had a feeling they weren’t.
Hades is up to something. Good. Rhys was starting to get bored. There were only so many rich asses he could kiss before everything started to taste like shit. His excitement dwindled when she brought up Cerberus and Deimos. The card key felt like lead in his hands.
“You want me to sweet-talk Hades’ interrogator and play fetch with their dog?” he murmured in her diamond-studded ear, his voice incredulous even though his expression didn’t change from the pleasant, charming smile that seemed to be tattooed on his face. “I’m honored to be considered for such a task, but may I ask why?” Both of these people literally specialized in beating people up, and Rhys made it a rule to avoid violence, personally. Not a good tactic when one joined a gang, but he’d gotten this far without getting his pretty face mussed up and he planned to keep his lucky streak going.
Thankfully, Rhys had more tricks up his sleeves than Luli did. He didn’t plan on sleeping with the enemy tonight; both Elysians were beneath his standards, and despite the targets’ backgrounds, he was confident he could get their guards down in other ways. Did Luli really think that his looks were his strongest asset? How rude.
She was right, but still.
He quickly glanced down at the key in his hand and his brows wrinkled slightly in displeasure. “This isn’t even a penthouse suite,” he whined. How dare she. She was asking him to get answers out of the guy who literally beat answers out of people and try not to get rabies from the three-headed bitch. The least Zeus could do, with all the magnificent power she inherited from Cronus, was let him be miserable in luxury. “You know I do my best work when I have a great view of the Manhattan skyline.”
LOCATION: founder’s ball
AVAILABILITY: open to all
Luli didn’t tell him to steal highly classified information from the attorney general, but she also didn’t tell him not to do that. She certainly didn’t tell him to seduce the AG’s personal assistant and swipe the poor man’s phone as he undid his pants — Rhys was just that innovative on his own.
The assistant had quickly scurried out of the bathroom stall with a properly satiated and shameful look on his face, while Rhys took his time to disable the phone’s tracking and fix himself up to look like he didn’t just have a quickie with a government employee. He sauntered out of the restroom once the reflection in the mirror lived up to his own high standards, only to crash into some unassuming Greek. “Looks like someone’s distracted,” he said smoothly, nonchalantly placing his hand in the pocket where the stolen phone was located. He went through all that trouble to grab it, and the last thing he needed was someone else swiping it. “Or were you looking to run into me?”
sight. a chameleon cut from marble, molded by michaelangelo — the english language is too underdeveloped to describe him. skin blessed by genetics and the la mer he steals from department stores. impossibly thick lashes frame dark eyes that reveal nothing but see everything. you don’t see him coming but you can never forget his face.
smell. dizzying and intoxicating cocktails of foreign colognes, his own love potion no. 9. it changes depending on what kind of skin he’s adopted for the occasion. nothing ever sticks, washed off the next day by whatever soap is stocked at the hotel. camels are his vice of choice, smoke hanging on suits if he’s not careful enough.
hearing. a master of accents, his devilish tongue wrapping around words in hundreds of different ways. the only constant: his voice crawls beneath the skin, digging in until he’s successfully talked his way out of getting exactly what he wanted. you only learn not to trust anything he says once the conversation is over.
taste. expensive scotch coats the tongue, lips wrapped around cigarettes — his most intimate lovers, his greatest indulgences. it’s an acquired taste, it’s unpleasant, but it juxtaposes the lovely words that come out of his mouth, laced with ash and alcohol.
touch. skin softer than silk, unblemished and radiant. skin like a diamond, expertly cut and tougher than it appears. he burns purposefully, aching to leave his mark on everyone. greedy fingers itch to grab at everything until there’s nothing left for anyone else.
Lurking around Asphodel and The Warehouse is far different from this, there were crowds to blend into when someone Jason was trying to avoid spotted him and an exit to quickly dart out of whenever he felt uncomfortable enough to leave. But this? Being at Mount Olympus again while the deaths of Harvey and Rafael and the shame of his addictions weighing heavy on his shoulders while being surrounded by things he couldn’t have? It was almost torture. In fact, he was sure that Luli had invited him to simply to rub it in his face. After all, why else would she have done it? He was no longer a part of Olympus, no longer peddling drugs and no use to anyone, and everyone he knew here either had business to attend to or likely hated him.
With a flute of water in hand, he skirted off to the edge of the ballroom, admiring the decorations with bittersweet nostalgia. Glancing into the crowd of important people, he felt almost small… Even invisible, maybe, before he made eye contact with someone he had once known. Everything screamed at him to run away, only a few steps to the exit, but his legs took him straight to who he had seen as though his own body had betrayed him. With his heart nearly bursting from his chest, he gave them a wary smile.
Jason provided ample proof that there was such a thing as stupid questions, even rhetorical ones. Rhys didn’t miss anyone or anything. He was the one people chased after, it never happened the other way around. His little Grinch heart only had room to love himself and all the money he would one day possess.
(The little girl in New Mexico doesn’t count, he tells himself. She’s, like, seven or eight and not even half of a person yet.)
But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that Jason offered a good time, or at least used to. Rumor had it that the guy was trying to live life on the straight and narrow. God, Rhys hoped that wasn’t true. People who tried to put their life on track were so boring. With a devil’s smile and a glint in his eye that meant nothing but trouble, he gave Jason one of those obnoxious bro handshakes complete with a pat on the back. “I feel like it’s been ages since I last saw you. Want to go catch up in the bathroom?” He gave a little conspicuous tap on his nose as he gestured towards where a couple of Wall Streeters had shuffled off with a hotel heiress. Rhys didn’t miss Jason, and he hadn’t planned on snorting anything that night, but he was in desperate need of a good show. And he didn’t have much faith that Jason could provide that while he was sober.
date: september 22nd
location: founder’s ball
status: open
There was a hum in the air, the city electrified with what was to come. Luli, in all her glory, stepping into the place of a ghost and demanding to be taken just as seriously. Perhaps that was what led her to inviting just about the entire damn city, the press clamoring for a glimpse into tonight’s festivities. Victoria was right, there was no room to fuck up and she had no intention to.
Would Harvey be proud? Did it matter now? She wasn’t sure. What did matter was that she appeared calm, at ease. That’s what led her onto the floor in the center of the ball, her gown just barely touching the floor. A king above it all with her head held high and her smile pressed on. “How nice of you to join us,” she greeted the unsuspecting guest, an extra champagne flute in her extended hand. “I was hoping to see you here.”
Rhys had arrived in a tailored suit for the same reason the rest of New York’s elite did: to see how hard the new King could fall, or just how high she could rise. Luli’s level of competency was the hottest bit of gossip these days, and he wanted a front row to the show.
And besides, he loved any excuse to wear a tailored tux.
It wasn’t surprising that he had a hard time getting alone time with Zeus, and he passed the time by cozying up with one-percenters and lining his pockets with new contacts he couldn’t wait to take advantage of in the future. It may have been a party, but that didn’t necessarily mean he had to take a night off. Gotta network to get work, baby.
And when the opportunity to grab Zeus’s attention finally arrived, he took his shot. The glass of champagne may not have been for him, but he was more deserving of a drink than the bumbling Wall Street broker who Luli greeted. His suit was so ill-fitting. “So lovely to see you,” Rhys drawled, his voice dripping with charm as he edged out the red-faced guest in an attempt to draw Luli’s attention towards him. He leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek and whispered in her ear, “Any of Hades’ lackeys you want me to dance with tonight? Or do you have some grand plan up your gorgeous designer sleeve?”
meet olympus’ local fuckboy con-artist, narcissus / rhys chase. spends most of his income on skincare and will probably sell you out for a Sacagawea dollar coin. you can read about him here, and below the cut are some possible connections i had in mind for him~
message me if you think your character might fit one of these ideas, or if you want to build off of it, or if you want to go into a completely different direction altogether. i’m totally flexible. c:
idk my bff jill — friends/acquaintances: can be non-olympus members since rhys’ loyalty is pretty flimsy and he is willing to buddy up with literally anyone who can offer him something worthwhile.
the unofficial echo to his narcissus; someone who sees him through rose-colored glasses and is willing to go along with whatever sketchy idea shoves on them. it’s not a very equal or healthy dynamic; rhys is definitely the type to manipulate someone into doing what he wants and wouldn’t hesitate to drop them under the bus, but he definitely likes having someone he can count on. maybe this character is getting something they want out of rhys too, so it’s not a completely one-sided relationship. maybe at some point they wise up to his true intentions after rhys epically betrays them?? this can go a lot of different ways !!
lots of shady ppl in a gang. your character + rhys are just shady bros being shady together. are they friends or are they both just playing games? they can’t really trust each other but they like to pretend that they can. it’s fun to play around but maybe the real prize are the friends we made along the way (:
rhys’s favorite person in the world bc they pay him $$ to get his hands dirty. they say money can’t buy love but it CAN buy u rhys’s loyalty
let’s talk about s*x baby — romantic: anything from significant others, exes, fwb, etc. rhys is a self-described lothario and is not the monogamous type at all, so we can go a lot of different directions!
rhys broke [character’s] heart (as he likes to do) & [character] plans to go all “kill bill” and enact revenge on him.
rhys pretends to be interested in [character], but he has an ulterior motive. [character] is unaware that they’re being played – this could only end badly. or, they’re aware and are trying to see if they can play rhys at his own game.
rhys doesn’t really give a shit about party lines and keeps sneaking into the bed of elysian members. [character] thinks is a bad idea and is worried about getting caught, and keeps trying to end it, which only makes rhys more interested in keeping up the affair, since he doesn’t like it when things end on someone else’s terms.
don’t hate me cuz u ain’t me — enemies: he’s a POS so he probably has a lot of them
an olympian who can just tell that rhys ain’t shit and would sell them all out for a corn chip. keeps trying to get rhys kicked out of the gang before he royally fucks shit up
someone who got conned by rhys or knows someone who got conned and wants to punch rhys in his beautiful face
rhys has traveled all around america under different pseudonyms so if ur character hasnt always been in ny, maybe they met rhys once before and hate the fact that rhys is a two-faced bitch
a character that hates rhys bc they’re jealous of how much hotter he is!! they don’t understand that being pretty is not a privilege, it’s a CURSE
I wish I could sing a god alive for you,
but you could never hear my anthem
unless it reflects off the sound of your voice.
You are burning in the light of your beauty,
and I weep for the light.
