#gsdropen

[unholyrod]

rodrigo thought it would be funny to try and enter the doggy door of the likely haunted mansion. ambrosia said it was a better idea than it actually was, leading to a real attempt. his shoulders were square. his chest was firm. his arms were thick. and he got one arm and his head through, before he could get no further, the soles of his boots scraping as he slips and ends up on his knees.

ass up, the tail of his fox outfit raised.

he scrambles to free himself, pushes and tugs, but gets nowhere. it’s visible when he deflates, giving up.

rod, son of hades, could use a hand.

[rldlnghood]

( open to: voithos )

crouched in a corner, in one of the kitchens.

inside, there’s a few less layers. the rings running down the sides of his ears are visible, as well as the glint of the ring through his nose, shining blue from the water he was facing. a painted nail tapping the glass, the liner around his eyes even darker with the rest of the glow on his skin.

“nobody ask why we live in a fucking fish tank?” he asks, hearing someone on approach. “these some kinda spies and shit? how’re we supposed to sleep, with so many eyes on us?”

[btchcrft]

there’s a slight chill in the summer air, not enough to bite to the bone, but enough to make its presence known. siting blanketed under the canopy of stars, in the middle of the courtyard, with the light of the bonfire illuminating him, is kian. a book is open , resting on one knee, and with one finger he traces the sigils and the words that adorn the yellowed pages. he flips the page and continues, his eyes almost aglow in the firelight. a noise catches his attention and he cranes his head up, looking toward it. it’s past midnight, most of the others are usually asleep by now. 

“something on your mind keeping you from sleeping?” he asks, voice soft. he doesn’t close the book, but he rests his attention on the demigod walking toward him. 

[unholyrod]

the fox suit was only ever meant to be seen by the medical department at college. that was until the answer to at least one of his questions showed up, clop-clopping on the snow covered streets of st. cloud, with an offer to whisk him away to another life.

he’d like to forget what came after, the full night of fading hope and false hallelujah, and the festivities that seemed to spring up right as he recovered couldn’t be better timed. rod could use a drink. rod could, in fact use many drinks, since he was about to meet who-the-fuck-knew in a red jacket over a (rather high quality) knit fox onesie.

there was going to be an attempt at greeting the first person to walk by, but it might take the second person to pick his jaw up off the ground -- since said first person was a satyr.

rod really, really needed that drink. and someone to tell him to stop staring.

[btchcrft]

the biting chill of winter and the darkness that it brings can weigh heavy upon someone’s soul. kian, ever accustomed to the darkness, revels in it. the longer nights make him feel more alive, make him feel like the coursing river of magic that flows in his veins is becoming more and more tamed by the minute. he knows that isn’t the case. he’s a wielder of divinity, harnessing his birth right to bend the will of reality. magic, he’s found, is everywhere and he can tap into that power. 

the thought makes him chuckle as he leans his head back against the rocks around the hot springs. the natural heat of it chases away the bitter cold, giving him goosebumps along his exposed skin. he takes a wet hand and combs it through his curls, pushing them out of his face, and closes his eyes. relaxation after the last few weeks is something he’s looking forward to, even if just for a moment. it’s then that he hears the sound of footsteps, twigs breaking under feet, and with his eyes still closed, he calls out. “hot springs are occupied but open. don’t try to sneak up on me, thanks.” ribbons of gold and black dance around his fingers just in case. 

[rldlnghood]

the prospect of ‘formal dance, bring a date’ partially made ivan’s skin crawl. it’s precisely what he’d need to ensure his position, confirm to himself and to others that he wasn’t alone in the new world of monsters and demigods.

but it was too soon. not enough risks, not enough moments, he’d barely had more than a meeting with most of them. less time than he’d need to make a friend, than to worm into anyone’s good graces.

rather than let himself get worked up on scheming, ivan headed out to the shops in the camp, figuring dropping some coin would help him keep his head on. even just browsing was helping a tiny bit, the tension still more in ivan’s eyes than anywhere else, as he floated from one shelf to the next.

he moved to allow someone past, barely glancing in their direction. “you think we’re gonna need rope, out there?”