#hermes-tow

[antoinette-tow]

hermes-tow replied to your post:i thought u guys should know for one of my essays...

who’s pretending, meg 4 pres

yes. meg 2016. vote 4 me. 

[rowan-tow]

"Fuck," muttered Hermes; god of crossroads, thieves, guidance, and deception. His hands balled up briefly before reaching out to Rowan, knowing the mortal was not long for this world of the waking and the wanting--his only desire, now, surely, was to lay down and forget this day ever happened. Hermes could do that. With a kiss to each lid he could steal the horrible memory of today and whisk off into the night. But Rowan wouldn't appreciate that. So instead, all the god did was lead him to bed.

His eyes closed the second his cheek touched the pillow. Rowan was down for the count too quickly to do much more than mumble a thank you and reach, with very determined fingers, to hold onto Hermes. After that, crickets chirped, wolves howled, and the night moved on without the stoic guardian. 

[rowan-tow]

"Zeus-my-father; Rowan, I'm not going to argue with an inebriated person." Hermes rubbed his temples with trembling fingers, watching Rowan like a hawk to ensure he didn't accidentally choke himself on his toothbrush, or something. Then, to keep himself busy; occupied, Hermes ran water in the bath over a clean cloth he found, fussing over Rowan in quiet ways, reaching up to daub his neck and face with said towel, focusing on that instead of the way Rowan had--lied, surely. Lied. Yes.

It hadn’t been a lie. And if he remembered nothing else, he would remember that. But he wouldn’t force Hermes to see, not with words, not with an endless prattle of what he would do. He’d simply do it in his quiet own way. The way he always did things. 

He was fading fast, however, and he had already begun to sway again by the time he’d rinsed his mouth out. Brow furrowing, he reached out for something to hold onto. “I’m sorry, Hermes...” He began, trying to find the words that had flown away from him, “I believe I need to lay down.”

[rowan-tow]

His heart felt sick. All of him felt sick. He was starting to go through a different sort of withdrawal, one he hadn't felt in a long time. But it was fine. He motioned emphatically for Rowan to follow him again, then paused at the question--his face turned away, his shoulders rigid, and his jaw set. "You won't want to; tomorrow," came the short reply, as Hermes straightened in place and adjusted his hoodie. "Come on. Bed is calling."

Dark brown eyes, the color of a simmering forest, looked into Hermes’s eyes. For a while, Rowan said very little. He felt much, but the wheels of his emotions ran circles around the insides of his ribs, never escaping. When the silence ended, he simply said, “I will,” and turned to the sink to start brushing his teeth. Though he doubted the Crest whitening toothpaste would completely rid him of the feeling of alcohol that ebbed inside.

[rowan-tow]

There was a subtle, nigh imperceptible flinch that occurred when Rowan touched his face. Hermes had to ball up his hands to keep from pushing him away. What gave him the right; a human, a mortal, to make him care? To make him -worried-? It had to be the sacrifices. It had nothing to do with unfocused brown eyes and the smell of an alcoholic sweat that meant death or worse come morning. He finally turned from Rowan's hand, expressionless, to guide him to the bathroom nearest his room.

The sting of rejection would mean little in the morning, but at the moment, it spoke volumes, and Rowan didn’t fully understand that he was meant to follow Hermes further into the house. Instead, he stood there for a moment, dropping his hand with disgust back into the pocket of his pants. Only after a considerable amount of time - according to his drunken state - had passed, did he move. 

“Will you let me...tomorrow?” he asked quietly.

[rowan-tow]

"On the--" Hermes started for the table, intending to deposit the keys there, but stopped short when he saw the incense. Sophie's choice, them, wasn't it. Abandon assisting Rowan for his own high. Or help Rowan and go another day without direct sacrifice. Clenching his jaw, Hermes wrestled with himself--then chucked the keys on the table and moved to shoo Rowan away from the kitchen, glowering. "No. Shower. Brush teeth. Water. Bed. That's what we're doing right now, mortal. Let's go."

The decision would no doubt sound out in Rowan’s head later, when the ringing that currently dominated it was finally drowned out. As it was, he stared at Hermes with a squint, trying to wrap his mind around how something so important could just be forgotten. He moved then, slowly, trying to be sure - already long-given up on trying to look like he wasn’t drunk. He put a hand to Hermes’s cheek, a gentle brush. “Hermes...” He whispered.

[rowan-tow]

Freezing when he saw Rowan collapse, Hermes's eyes briefly darted above Rowan's head. Numbers ticked above mortal's skulls for him in the past, telling him when to usher them to the Underworld, but now--everything was a blur. He took the key from Rowan's hand, fumbled with the lock, and got them both inside--dragging Rowan a little in order to help him over the threshold however, white-faced and shaky-handed, but trying. The key he pocketed for the time being, but--it wasn't crucial. Rowan was.

The house greeted him, and Rowan nearly turned his face to look away. He wasn’t the man meant to be in this house right now. He was just a stupid teenager again who’d gotten too drunk and wouldn’t remember tomorrow. 

“On the table,” he said faintly as he started to move towards the living room. There, on the glance coffee table, did stand a set of incense. And though Rowan’s footsteps did stumble, he was more sure of himself in this action at least. The habit had caught up with him.

[rowan-tow]

"Don't be a prat," Hermes snapped before he could stop himself, blue eyes flickering. He looked around the room and tensed his legs. This was going to hurt. It was going to suck up a lot of remaining energy. It was days like these Hermes wished he still had his winged sandals. "Just--hold on a second. I'll take that bet," he muttered--and the two were gone in the blink of an eye, reappearing on Rowan's threshold. Q's, technically. Hermes paused to recollect himself, still cradling Rowan.

When the earth moved, when the ground shifted, that was when Rowan lost it. He slipped slowly to his knees, his hands bracing himself against the ground. Each breath he took was a slow one, in and out, carefully. He hadn’t collapsed like this from alcohol in...too long. He coughed as he tried to right himself, pulling what he could up with hands to the wall. 

“My pocket,” he managed. But never completed the thought before he held the key out.