𝐖𝐀𝐒 there anything worse than this? so long had he tried to stay out of the affairs of gods that it damn near sent him mad; so long had he abandoned the needs and cares of his divine mother so that he may have some semblance of normalcy in his life. not that such a blessing was ever truly his to claim: normalcy was not going to be given to any of them, irregardless of parentage or allegiance. soldier of kronos, marching camp counselor, it made no difference. the gods would see them all as playthings.
fine then. he had no inherent qualm with this. the gods would see them all as toys and trinkets, pets to be loved and mourned for but a day when they inevitably died, if they were mourned at all. it was not his place to rebuke them for that. they weren’t people. he could not fall into that eternal trap of believing that they could love like humans when they were so infallibly above them.
he was merely lucky that pamon hadn’t grown too big. secured in the form of a saint bernard by the mist as it was, the black-and-gold dragon had made itself comfortable by his side. trips to new york were infrequent at best and loathsome at worst, but it was nice enough to go about and browse the stores. sometimes someone would look at pamon for a moment and he would catch himself almost asking if they saw what he truly was, but then they would ask to pet the large animal and his question would die on his tongue.
the trip wasn’t pointless. there was a reason for it: an interview. if he could change jobs to work the EMT circuit within new york, he would certainly get more chances to help people. demigods. anybody who needed it.
he turned a corner and had just enough time to suck in a breath before colliding with someone. pamon took to growling near immediately, hackles raised and - ‘neath the mist - golden eyes flaring in offense as though the collision hadn’t been his master’s fault.
❛ ah, sorry. you alright ?? ❜
@anthcs // starter call












