𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐓 of zeus should be dead. he should be dead. instead, he is on a cruise ship. most importantly, however, verso is tired && hungry, && has not had breakfast yet. he knows the food won’t stay down; his stomach is still adjusting to not eating whatever tartarus had to offer, && he’s not yet ready to deal with the nausea of trying to eat. the eldest of zeus trudges out from his cabin with his sunglasses askew. he’s in the process of sliding his jacket on properly when he rounds the corner and, rather unceremoniously, collides with someone else. he steps back, almost falling over, but not quite; the breeze catches him, keeps him upright. his dogtags rattle like windchimes. the scent of ozone, petrichor, && death cling to him like desperate friends. ❝ ah shit, ❞ grumbles the not-yet-corpse, ❝ my bad. ❞
@essentiamortis // starter call !!
