My Greek myth AU designs that I have yet to draw (Post 8)
+ lore
SEE OTHER POSTS HERE
Comus
God of festivity, revels, and nocturnal dalliances
Son of Dionysus
Satyr
Part of Dionysus's retinue
Is the cup bearer of Dionysus
Has wings and horns, they're just hidden in his hair
Gelos
God of laughter
Part of Dionysus's retinue
Light yellow symbolizes joy
Methe
Goddess and spirit of drunkeness
Daughter of Dionysus
Part of Dionysus's retinue
I love her design sm
Psyche
Immortal wife of Eros
I had people help with the hair + the color scheme for funsies.
Curly (hair type, given by Niko), Green + Gray + Dark Purple (color scheme, given by Tobi), butterfly cut (hairstyle, given by Fox), 6ft long hair (hair length, given by Knight)
DETAILS:
custom boots and custom dress
Rose blonde hair
monarch butterfly wings
Rose crowns were given to her by her husband
Bottom crown: purple roses symbolize connection
Top crown: lavender roses symbolize enchantment and love
Hedone
Goddess of sensual pleasure
Daughter of Eros and Psyche
DETAILS:
orange wings + butterfly wings like her mother
gold undertones in wings like her father
curly hair like her mother
rabbit ears like her father
black symbolizes mating and fertility
white gardenias symbolize love
Pheme
Goddess of rumors, scandals, and affairs
Has wings, just keeps them hidden
Horns symbolize infidelity
Black and purple symbolize "venom"
Hera hates her
Has a garden at her home
Soteria
Goddess of safety and salvation
Daughter of Persephone and Hades
Aqua symbolizes protection
Is a deer, like her mom
Wearing a laurel wreath
Bandana around neck was a gift from her father
Telete
Goddess of nighttime festivities and ritual dances in honor of Dionysus
Daughter of Dionysus and Nicaea (a naiad nymph)
Part of Dionysus's retinue
Has pointed ears like most naiads
Is part naiad and part nymph
Youngest of Dionysus's children
Bull horns like her father
Aceso
Goddess of the healing process and curing of sickness
Daughter of Asclepius and Epione
Sister of Panacea, Iaso, Paeon, and Hygeia
She 100% makes the best chicken noodle soup
SYMBOLISM:
Bear and snake: healing
Yellow and light blue: healing
Light blue and red: health
Green: rejuvenation
DETAILS:
cape (capelet?) is based on a portrait of an ancient Greek doctor, Agnodice
Iapeo
Goddess of recovery from illness
Daughter of Asclepius and Epione
Sister of Panacea, Paeon, Aceso, and Hygeia
The blue hair skipped a generation with Asclepius and hit her hard 😭✌️
Panacea
Goddess of cures and remedies
Daughter of Asclepius and Epione
Sister of Iaso, Hygeia, Paeon, and Aceso
Remember to keep your hair up and take the proper safety precautions when you're working with diseases and chemicals!
Paeon
God
Physician of the gods
Son of Asclepius and Epione
Brother of Iaso, Hygeia, Panacea, and Aceso
Best friends with Hephaestus
Epione
Goddess of health
Personification of the soothing of pain and the care needed for recovery
Mother of Paeon, Panacea, Iapeo, Hygeia and Aceso
Wife of Asclepius (before he died yknow)
Moether
^ yea if you couldn't tell every outfit that the women of Asclepius's family wear is based on female doctor uniforms from different eras
Semele
Goddess of the Bacchic frenzy
Mother of Dionysus
Loves her son, her grandchildren, and her daughter-in-law
was apotheosized after her son took her soul from the underworld and brought her to Olympus
Dionysus: mother the maenads tore someone apart again :D
Semele: that's nice dear :)
Ariande
Goddess of labyrinths and mazes
Wife of Dionysus
was apotheosized after getting taken to Olympus
wears a flowering grapevine on her head, a gift from her husband
tiger print cloak was a gift from one of Dionysus's maenads
Jaskier knows Geralt isn’t an affectionate person.
It was obvious from... well, the instant they met. The first time Geralt had touched him, it had been in violence. Things have obviously dramatically improved since then, but Jaskier knows better than to expect a friendly clap on the shoulder or a knee knocking his under the table. He knows, based on the smattering of tales about his youth, that soft touches were not encouraged amongst young witchers. So while he thinks - thinks - that Geralt considers him a friend at this point, he doesn’t expect any kind of physical evidence of this.
Which makes the touching all the more incomprehensible.
The first time it happens, he knows it's an accident. With anyone else, he never would have even registered it, but he’s developed a kind of background itch for Geralt’s skin on his that makes him hyper aware of such things. After all, though he tries to give Geralt space, they’ve touched before. Jaskier is an affectionate person, and he can’t keep himself from occasionally reaching out. But Geralt rarely touches him back, if ever. Geralt’s trade lies in mastery of his own body, and it obeys him with utter precision. So when their hands brush one night as Geralt hands him an ale, Jaskier jerks hard in place, nearly spilling it on both of them.
It’s the barest of touches, just the tip of Geralt’s first finger sliding along the bottom of Jaskier’s hand as he passes the drink. They’re both a little drunk, Jaskier moreso, and for a moment he thinks maybe it was his fault somehow. That he’d shifted or moved his hand to bump them together. But as he watches Geralt’s eyebrows go up ever so slightly, his mouth opening on a short inhale, and - he looked surprised. Soft and flush with drink, he looks like he expected the soft touch even less than Jaskier.
It’s just a tiny bit of contact. It shouldn’t make Jaskier feel so flustered, but it does. It does.
After that it’s like there’s a crack in the dam, and the sudden touches become more frequent. Geralt passes him a small handful of coins, and his fingers scrape delicately against Jaskier’s palm, making him blush. He hands him Roach’s reins while he goes to talk to an alderman, and his fingers hover to brush over Jaskier’s as if to ensure that he’s really holding firm. When Jaskier trips over a dip in the road, Geralt’s hand snaps out to snag his, the warm press of their palms making Jaskier sweat more than the afternoon sun could ever hope to.
He doesn’t know what to make of it. He’s worried about misinterpreting, about overstepping Geralt’s boundaries. He’s still not sure if Geralt means to do any of it. It never seemed to be an issue before, but maybe they’ve just become comfortable enough around each other that Geralt doesn’t notice anymore when they brush up against each other. The man clearly hasn’t dealt much with affection in his life, and Jaskier doesn’t want to overwhelm him. Nor does he want to expose his own… feelings, by being too eager. So he tries to accept the casual touches as they are, and not read too much into the development. Not that it works.
Every touch still sends him reeling.
It comes to a head when they’re staying in White Orchard, coming off of a hunt. It’s a small town, but the tavern is big enough that Jaskier can make a bit of coin before they move on, so they’d decided to stay an extra few days. It’s an hour or so before the dinner rush, but he won’t be able to eat until after he plays, so Jaskier digs through Geralt’s pack for one of the crisp apples he keeps around for Roach. He takes out a knife as well and sits at the small table in their room at the inn to start carving it into slices. Geralt is sitting on the edge of the bed, and his eyes flicker briefly up from where he’s oiling his armor to track Jaskier’s movements.
Jaskier is chattering on about something, he isn’t even sure what, when he looks up again and sees Geralt’s eyes on him - on his hands. The knife is sliding through the base of the apple, and Jaskier is distracted, hot under the collar from Geralt’s sudden attention, and he doesn’t realize where the knife is in time to stop it. It slices neatly into the meat of his thumb, and the yellow skin of the apple is suddenly red with blood.
He curses, setting the knife and the apple aside. “Damn, there goes my dinner,” he mutters, using his good hand to search for a handkerchief or something else he can use to stem the flow. He’s holding his hand up away from the table, trying not to get more blood on anything else, when rough calloused fingers wrap around his wrist. Jaskier abandons his search, head jerking up to find Geralt much closer than he had been before. A clean looking cloth is pressed down over the cut, which Geralt is looking at with a small furrow between his brows. He’s kneeling on the floor at Jaskier’s knee, like a knight about to swear fealty, or, or--
Jaskier stops that train of thought in its tracks, but he can feel the heat crawling up his neck anyways.
“You should be more careful,” Geralt grumbles, leaning over to snag his potions bag. With the hand not holding the cloth in place, he pulls out a thin roll of gauze.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jaskier says, aiming for haughty. It still comes out a little shaky. “Are you lecturing me right now on taking care of myself, witcher? Bit of a pot and kettle situation, wouldn’t you agree?”
Geralt huffs, giving him a look from beneath his eyelashes, which has no right to be as arresting as it is. “Can’t play if you chop off a finger,” he replies, removing the cloth and wiping it across the cut a few times. It’s not extraordinarily deep, just bleeding a lot, and it’s on the hand that he typically uses to hold the neck of his lute, so it shouldn’t be too much in the way. Geralt unwinds a bit of the gauze and slowly wraps it around Jaskier’s finger, his large hands exceedingly gentle on Jaskier’s.
“Of course,” Jaskier agrees faintly. “Wouldn’t want to burden you.”
Geralt hums, tying off the bandage. For a moment he just stays there, unmoving, cradling Jaskier’s palm in his hand. Jaskier feels warm all over, embarrassed and frazzled by the tender care. It’s not anything serious, Geralt has hardly even touched him, but it’s still overwhelming. Geralt’s fingers slip down, tracing over the back of his hand, intent in the motion. Jaskier feels a bit faint.
And then, just before he lets go, Geralt leans down and presses his lips just below the bandage. Jaskier thinks the damp exhale of breath against the fragile skin of his wrist might be the most intense thing he’s ever experienced.
And then Geralt is standing up, like nothing happened at all, and moving to put the bandage back in the pack. He’s across the room before Jaskier can regain his composure, opening the door and hesitating only briefly. He doesn’t meet Jaskier’s gaze as he says, “I’ll go get you something else to eat.” And then he’s gone, leaving Jaskier with an empty room, a bloody knife, and the lingering echo of warmth on his skin.
