Poseidon & Caeneus
@jared-kingston
Bo kicked at a shell on the sand, the fragile thing bouncing off of his boot and skittering into the tide that had come up to lap gently at the beach. A frown settled over his face and he sighed as he continued to walk along the coast, his distraction for the moment swallowed into the waves as he turned his attention to the house on the hill up above. For as much grief as he gave the Americas, he couldn’t say that he minded their coastline. It was colder in some places in the north, and it lacked the rich turquoise water that made him think of Greece, but it was a decent representation. It seemed to pair easier with the people; hardy and stubborn, determined to shape the land into something that they could call their own.
Though it would never truly be theirs; not with a god like him in command of it. He had the water and the land. That was his cut of the deal.
His primary home was Atlantis, an island situated in the middle of the Atlantic. He only had himself to blame for that -- his own blasted stubbornness had caused him to create an island far away from where his family had situated themselves, hoping to get a reprieve from them. In the end, it had left him isolated and lonely, causing him to look for entertainment in other places. He created storms for fun, and haggled with traders that crossed the ocean, making off with some of their finer goods. As the nations grew into self-sustainment and stopped looking to Bo and his family as their gods, replacing them with others, he had melted into a semi-obscurity. Part of him felt resentment, but mostly he just felt boredom.
The century had turned (to the... nineteenth A.D.? Truthfully, he was finding it hard to keep them straight anymore) without celebration for him, just as it always had. There was no use in celebrating time when his life was eternal. It felt like another day, another year, another century. As often as he could, he roamed the countries, sailed over the sea, disguising himself as a mortal out of necessity in order to be accepted into their communities. It passed the years easier, and it quenched his unrelenting apathy for what humanity had become. He never stayed long, and he always kept moving, but it was interesting to see their fragility, their fears, and their dreams... and exploit them to an extent.
The North American continent was his least favorite, but he wasn’t there for a vacation. No, he was there because something had caught his eye -- something he was certain he would’ve never seen again. Centuries before, Bo had a consort -- his wife, some may have called her. He was known among the gods for his amorous nature, and he’d taken many lovers over his lifetime, but this woman had been special to him. And now, after years of roaming, he’d managed to stumble across a woman living the Americas that bore a striking resemblance to the woman he lost.
And he would be damned if he didn’t want her more than anything.
His thoughts were broken as he watched her storm from the front door of her family’s home above him on the bank, and he made sure to keep himself hidden as she rushed as far away from the building as she could get, emotions clearly playing a part in her actions. He wanted to go to her so badly, sweep her away with him to live in his home, but he showed restraint. A plan had been forming in his head since he’d first seen her, and he had a feeling that it was going to come time to put it into action very, very soon.
But he had to be patient.
