stabat mater.
@archaistes
It is easy to gain power, the trick here is to keep it until the world falls down in ashes. If they are smart enough, they will watch the world ends, the front row is always a marvelous place. Her seat is made of golden leaves, nothing less for the favorite of Olympus, she studies mortals fighting in the name of her brother, in her name. Oh for Ares, Oh for Athena, they sing until their blood stains their skin, unable to stay still in their veins. A gentle roar they scream for the gods to hear them out. But the night has fallen and Morpheus has already returned to their holy home. It is time for them to cheer, to scream. Athena knows, Dionysus is having his own circus, his party to create a mess behind celestial doors. She sees him as a crow, a tortured one. She should save him but she knows there is nothing to do with him. She tried over and over again but stupidity is stronger than knowledge. Not everyone can achieve to develop a mind as sharp as a sword.
Maybe this night, she will try again to save the damned he locked in his golden prison.
They bow before her, the loud music isn’t enough to cover her grace, she cannot be ignored. Blood of nymphs, moans of satires, she can almost laugh at their existence but she is kind, forgiveness is a virtue they created to show their mercy. These soft beings were born to entertain them, a show she did not enjoy as she watched them rot for a love they could not obtain. Her thoughts are fighting, children of the oblivion aren’t her problem. He made them this way, he tainted everyone who asked him to. A form of cruelty.
He sits, proudly on a throne he does not own, he does not live here. Her fury unleashes as she climbs the stairs to reach him as if he was more important than her. Foolish, she is the favorite, the one everyone admires and worships from dawn to dusk. Idyllic voices are already rising from the drunken bodies around them, singing to their glory. Siblings, they call them, but she doesn’t associate with someone so irresponsible, so mortal.
Gods don’t bleed, but if Dionysus had veins, they would be filled with a crimson color. Wine, he is made of wine.
Her presence doesn’t stop the chaos, not just yet. These souls surrendered the minute the circus started. They aren’t in Rome, they aren’t in a land destined to the excess but he made it all happen, he called them with his voice they all fell for. Similar to a venomous snake, as handsome as Death itself. His parties are nothing but a short path to Tartarus. Deep down, she wished Cerberus would have his skin. The home of HER father is similar to a battlefield full of corpses. An abomination, an insult. She doesn’t expect less from a vulgar god. He is a child she has to take care of and, for a second, Athena considers she should leave his guests the opportunity to kill him under their drunken kisses. Exhibitionism, what an atrocity.
“Silence.” She asks and they obey, her eyes ignoring all of them but her “equal”. Her pointy stick is taller than her as she holds it proudly, showing the other she isn’t here to join the grandiose festivities. “Your many travels are, perhaps, confusing you.” Her natural sarcasm couldn’t be hidden behind intellectual words as she makes sure she speaks with simple words, simple enough for him to understand. “Maybe you thought this was the Lupanar of Pompeii. But, you see, it is not.” A place like this has been built for beings who did not belong in commonplaces, it was an insult to see others exposing themselves so freely in a place they should worship. What if mortals learned about his eccentric parties?
His face is a nightmare to her, she refuses to look at his features longer than a minute. They bow down once more when she turns her attention to the crowd. “It is time you learn some discipline, Dionysus.”