Thanatos @thxnxtcs - Tumblr Blog

dantexlykos:

The genasi’s ancestor, the God from which all this began, and evidently would end. It felt fitting, but the witch of Ironwood was a name less well known. Still, Dante knew it. “Then tell me how.” Dante pleaded, his tone uncharacteristically urgent. The dominos formed and fell but the genasi’s focus remained fixed upon the God of Death before him. Thanatos, scarcely heard or seen, but always there. The Greeks treated him like Hades, afraid to even utter his name for fear they might invoke him. A little of that fear might have done Dante some good, but power and success had made him arrogant - he’d come this far, hadn’t he? it wasn’t enough to walk away from this with a direction, he needed to know how to get in contact with a witch whose ability to hide herself from even the all-knowing, all-seeing, all father was unmatched. She birthed the monsters that would bring about the end of the world, if there was anyone who would know how to get in contact with their father then it was indeed her. But she would be just as elusive as Loki, if not more so. “Tell me how to find Angrboða. I will perform whatever task you set before me, I swear it.”

“What you’re telling me is that you believe you haven’t done enough for me. The desperation for this answer is unbecoming. How to do it is easily enough to figure out, isn’t it?” The dominos continued to fall, almost like a timer. And it was, really. The last domino would fall, and Dante would be ejected from this world. Thanatos loved his games. “There is no task I have for you, Dante. If she hides from the All-Father of the Norse, what makes you think she doesn’t hide from me?” Looking more than curious, he wondered how Dante would find a way around such a predicament. To begin the death of gods was not a simple task. And it was not a simple answer. “Perhaps if you find the shepherd, you find the sheep. Eggþér will have your answer.” With that, the last domino fell.

#dante

dantexlykos:

A million questions raced through his mind but Dante knew that he would not be given the freedom to carry on forever, a time would come when his patron would draw this to a close. His reason for coming here had always been to find a way to sustain the veil, some spell to strengthen it or power to prevent it from falling again. There was also the question of immortality - a way to forsake Hel’s price of love for one that was easier to undertake. This was a rare opportunity and for all that he had been through and suffered, he knew of one who’d been slighted worse. Someone who had taught him forbidden spells and ancient magic, someone who had taken the place of the father that Dante had always wished he’d had.

Pragmatically, the genasi’s tone held firm. His brow set he fixed Thanatos with a serious expression. “Thousands of years ago the Norse gods bound Fenrir in human form, chains of flesh and blood. I would ask you to tell me how to break him free of those chains.”

Well well, how the turn tables. Thanatos hummed, leaning forward in his seat now since his interest was more than piqued. It was an unusual request, and one that he could say he hadn’t gotten before. No one asked how to begin the doom of another pantheon, and the god considered it for a few moments. “So you wish to begin Ragnarök. While that is truly, and utterly, none of my business, I’m impressed that you thought to ask me that.” He had no need to lie, and reminding the genasi that he was better than him was redundant. He could enjoy a good question, made life a little more interesting.

A set of dominos appeared around Dante, the first one being tipped with the flick of Thanatos’ finger, “You’re looking for the middle piece of a puzzle that doesn’t even have a frame yet. His freedom is set off by the death of a son. Odin’s son. With which it is Loki who orchestrates it. What you are looking for is a way to contact him, isn’t it?” Thanatos tilted his head, “You need to contact the witch of Ironwood. She-who-brings-sorrow. And you will find the answer you seek.”

#dante

mavenlockwood:

“It isn’t arrogance to look at history to predict the future.” Her words are challenging, because while Maven understands she’s not the most important piece moving on this chess board, that there are others around her of greater significance. But that does not mean she is safe, nor that her death will not come simply to make a point at the hands of a cruel man. “They have no value for life at all. Mine or anyone else’s. And I don’t want to be the next heart to get ripped out on their warpath, a stop along the way to the oneiroi.” Patroclus never did anything for her, flat out refused to help her, but there’s no point in arguing that now. If he’s capable of doing the same as the oneiroi, then he will likely be just as much of interest to Hektor. Her heart sinks at the fact that there is no answer to be found to her question, a sickening feeling at the pit of her stomach that perhaps this entire thing has been pointless. Until Thanatos offers a lifeline, dangled in front of her face like a carrot on a stick with one word. Immortality. “How? How could I become that?”

Fair, more likely Hektor would make Maven a servant to the cult. Her power was useful, and there was nothing that her magic could do to protect against the original vampire’s compulsion. She wanted a weapon, a means to defend herself, and in a way Thanatos empathized. Her story was told over and over again, her anger was the same rage that countless others had already known. Even after doing so much she was still powerless in the face of the original vampire, in the presence of a Goddess. “A spell, one that will let your soul pass from your body to another.” Thanatos offered, “When you die it’ll move from you, to the nearest witch. The ritual will mark your soul and inscribe it with a rune. You will be changed, forever.” There was one way out of the cycle, but he wouldn’t comment on it given the woman’s preexisting history with Persephone. “A life for a life, eternity with this power, and all the time you’d ever need to find, or craft, the weapon you’re looking for.”

#maven

vclkyric:

“The veil was a mistake and I have learned from it. It won’t happen again.” Freya arched her brows and shook her head, leaning back with her arms still folded over her chest. She did not care for a scolding from Thanatos. He was a man, he was not one of her gods, and she did not know his true intentions. “I think I can decide myself what I want to get involved with and whatnot. But you do not get to tell me when to go home or when to hold still. No offense.” A fake smile on her lips, she gestured around with one hand. “Now, is that all you wanted from me?”

The God had hoped for more from her, to warn her of what was to come but it was clear his expectations for her had been too high. Loki remained as evasive as ever it was no secret to the God of Death that the other God’s role in the coming future would be significant, and that Valkyrie - whether willingly or not - was dancing to the deceiver’s drum. “There was more,” the God admitted, “but watching your little game of trial and error might be more interesting, I’ll leave you to continue making mistakes, you still have a great deal to learn.” With a gesture Thanatos waved her away, back to the mortal realm.

#valkyrie

saintcorvin:

“Your realm, your magic,” Saint repeated, looking over at the god with appreciation. He had felt it in his veins, something newly forged out of ancient materials, and yet, it was a mystery to him. “Teach me how to use it then, there is so much that I don’t know yet.” And there was likely far more that he would never discover if his method of doing so was by performing experiments in the basement, or in the morgue: it felt like an insult to the god to not fully exercise his power to the best of his ability. And his ability was not easily bested, as he had found out, testing boundaries and limitations. The question made him curve closer, studying him like a cat with yellow eyes in the dark. “A strange request from the god of peaceful death, is it not?” Still, he lifted a shoulder. Morally, his stance had not changed. “One life, twenty, twenty thousand. Blood is blood, I care only for my own outlook and future.”

“You’ll have eternity to figure it out.” Thanatos promised darkly, just as the God himself had had eons of practice. Of study, he was tired now. Always tired. Saint’s hunger for power was a story that the God had seen played out time and time again, Though this genasi was the first of his kind, the first to hold spirit as an element, Thanatos wondered how long it would be before Saint exhausted himself. How long until this one’s body broke under the weight of the power that he’d been given. “A life for a life,” the God countered, “seems only fair.” And forever would take the toll of many, many lives. “I will give you what you ask, but I am not Hel. Your vanity will be the price.” Thanatos offered as he approached the genasi and pressed a pair of fingers to the man’s chest. The knowledge for everything the genasi would need flooded from the God to Saint, “This spell will allow you to inscribe a rune upon your soul, and upon your death your life force will pass from you, to the nearest suitable vessel. A witch who will take your place in the Underworld.” With a small degree of force Thanatos pushed Saint backwards through the earth and back to the mortal realm, “Now be gone.”

#saint

mavenlockwood:

“Not vengeance.” Perhaps it isn’t wise to correct a god, but the words fall off of Maven’s tongue immediately. Because that isn’t what this is about. Though it would be a lie to say she would not enjoy the knowledge of Hektor getting what he is owed, in the end, she would be content to leave it be if she thought him willing to do the same. But now, herself and everyone she loves is being threatened, all because of her choices. “I don’t want to be any more wrapped up in that than I have to be. But I don’t think they’ll be willing to just let me go.” Not if Viraj’s actions have anything to show for it. Maybe if she wasn’t so new, if her death hadn’t been such a spectacle, her rebirth so remarkable. Maybe if she had waited a hundred years before taking the plunge, she could’ve quietly slipped away into obscurity. Instead, the genasi finds herself treading water in a boiling pot. “Whoever he was before, that’s not who he is now. So I need… something. Something to take him out of the picture, or to protect myself, and the people I care about.” It’s a rock and a hard place, no right answer wherever she looks, and perhaps that is why Maven finds herself turning to a god now for guidance.

“You think too highly of yourself, Hektor has turned vampires and then ripped their hearts out for shock value. Your death was convenient, of everyone in those cells you were the easiest to be turned. It is not you they will be after, but the man who helped you. Patroclus and his oneiroi.” Thanatos offered, though he cared little for the divine squabbles his realm inhabited a part of the Underworld and Persephone was still queen here. All this would still do little to help her should Persephone’s monstrosity decide to come looking for his former progeny, with a sigh, Thanatos opted to help. “The Erinyes, Hecate, all denizens of the Underworld - even me - are unable to give you the information you’re looking for.” Thanatos admitted, he had the knowledge to kill Hektor, to do innumerable things to him, but if Maven wished to stand against him she would have to find another way. “There is a way to protect yourself from him though, in a sense. Immortality.”

#maven

mavenlockwood:

He sees through her bluff, calls it out easily, and for a moment, Maven feels stupid for even attempting it. He’s the god of death, of course all her false projections of bravado would come across thin as paper. But it is all she has to cling to, all Maven has ever known in her moments of terror. To let go of it now would be to strip herself bare, admit that she is entirely defenseless and weak here, everything she fought so hard not to be anymore. The entire reason she went through with the genasi ritual in the first place. “You’re right, I did say that.” She sucks in a breath, as her own words are parroted back to her. She had come asking for guidance, only to attempt to play blasé when confronted with the opportunity in the moment. Thanatos won’t allow her to get away with that, though. That is something the god makes clear. So be it, then. “It was Persephone who held my soul first, taken by the hands of her favorite and presented as an offering. The fact that I am no longer in such a form is unlikely to go unnoticed.” Viraj already knows, and she had made him pay for his arrogance and cruelty — but in the scheme of things, he is only a small fish in a big pond. Maven can handle him. It’s not Viraj who concerns her; it’s the master who controls his leash. “I want to know if there is a way to kill him. Hektor. Before he attempts to kill me.”

“I know.” Thanatos stated, “I was there.” Though his monotonous tone betrayed nothing, in a sense he was present for every death, though there was nothing peaceful about how Maven’s life had been taken from her. For the witch turned vampire turned witch again to be stood before him showed leagues of willpower. It was why he’d gladly accepted her, marked the witch’s soul as his own and whisked it from Hecate. Maven’s candor continued to be enjoyable, enough at least to draw the hint of a smile to the tired God’s face. Hell hath no fury. The fire that had blazed within her as a witch only burned hotter now. “Vengeance?” How tiresome, “You could bring the veil down,” the God stated sarcastically, “that killed him. Of course Persephone gave him a comfortable place in paradise, but he was dead wasn’t he?” Thanatos queried, “Hektor was just a man before Persephone sank her claws into him, of course he can die. But you’d be bringing her wrath down upon you instead. For however cruel you may believe Hektor to be, he was a good man once. She turned him into what he is today.”

#maven

saintcorvin:

“Fire once suited me,” Saint said conversationally, walking around as he studied the differences in this realm. This was a shadow, and he felt quite comfortable in the darkest parts of creation, and he turned his attention back to Thanatos. “But it is spirit that embodies what my magic has true use for. There is more power in it, more possibility. What does fire know how to do beyond burn?” He offered a smile, “It is a gift, one that I do not take for granted. The Valkyrie is wise, I will not insult her— but I doubt she knows of your true intentions.” The first of your kind. My original creation. Saint gleamed, looking at the god. “I was told by another that it is your own gift that I carry.” The question made him lift a shoulder. “All of this power, all of this magic— only to fizzle out in a few years? A husk of what I once was, shy of ever doing more beyond the span of a mortal life.” It was, he though, an insult to the Thanatos’ gift, but he would let him come to such a conclusion himself. A laugh sparked from the genasi. “Whose life do you want? There are none that I would be shy to hold a blade to if you so wish it.”

These genasi all embodied their elements wholly, characteristics duly imparted by their elements. Fire was so much more than destruction, but the God had no desire to explain these redundancies to the other. “The realm you reach for, the creatures that dwell within it, that power you now wield - it is all mine.” Thanatos offered, he’d said as much already. The Hektor to his Persephone, an original of a different kind. “And if I asked for everything?” Thanatos pressed, as if he did not already own every aspect of the genasi. His soul, his power. It all belonged to the God, as was demonstrated in how the God manipulated the five to bring them here into his realm. “The city, the islands, the sea. An ocean of blood to prolong your life. A hundred souls. A thousand, tens- what then?”

#saint

enzoxcorsetti:

Enzo was proud, but he was also more than willing to walk away from a conversation that had no end in sight. It would’ve been a good option for him had he actually been able to leave. To stand there and be mocked by a god was just annoying; they all were full of themselves. Enzo knew what had happened, yet to be reminded of it just stung a bit more. He’d thought his heart had given out when he’d realized Marco had gotten in between him and the ritual. The genasi frowned, since the memory still stung. His heart had been set on this ritual, giving him power so no one could call him useless, even as a healer.

“If you believed that, you wouldn’t have brought us to see you.” He rubbed his jaw, “But you know Hel asks us for something that some of us cannot give, or have to go searching for to give in vain. Do you have the answer we’re all looking for?”

Astute. The God liked this one, then again he always had. Healers made the best genasi, especially air. Something about foregoing the power to help others in favour of only looking out for oneself, Thanatos could almost relate to it. “Naturally.” The God said, his tone was tired but he appreciated Enzo’s candor. Hel’s proposition was an interesting one, “What, you didn’t think to ask Osiris first?” The fact that Valkyrie had run all over Greece filling the heads of his genasi with promises of Hel’s immortality ritual still struck a nerve, but there was little to inflect as much beyond the deadpan delivery of his remark. “My bargain is not so cut and dry,” Thanatos offered, “the lives you’ll deliver to me will be continuous, never-ending so long as our deal holds.” The God studied the former healer a bit closer, only now truly interested in what he would say. “Could you handle that?”

#enzo

vclkyric:

“No, thank you, I had a wonderful dinner before the ritual.” Freya wasn’t stupid enough to accept anything from him, and besides, nothing down here would ever be able to compare to the real world. “Not thirsty either.” Especially not when Persephone was mentioned. Freya was a stranger here – more so than she was in Corinth. And she had learned that it was better to keep to herself and not accept anything from anyone. This was no exception. His words, however, caused a smile to form on her lips. Freya tilted her head to the side, lifting one brow. “Oh? Are you trying to tell me to go back home so you can continue with whatever plans you lot are cooking up here?” The rift shook her head, taking a small step forward. “Are you so scared of me you have to tell me to leave?”

“Scared?” That was rich, for the first time in what had to be decades a deep, rich laughter filled the chamber. The faint shades of souls that lingered here took pause, as if not even they knew what to do at the instruction. “Do not mistake my respect for fear.” He could strip her of all her power and magic if he truly wished, perhaps Loki would not even care. “I was there at your first breath, and I’ll be there at your last.” Thanatos prophesied, even these rifts could die. Valkyrie was no different. “And don’t lump me in with this lot- I’ve no interest in Persephone and Hades machinations.” Thanatos tone returned to normal, tired once more. “I’m the God of peaceful death, and your tryst with the veil kept me from my duty.” He reminded, “I brought you here to caution you, the veil, the wyverns, the genasi - continue to interfere and you’ll only end up with more blood on your hands.”

#valkyrie

saintcorvin:

Saint looked at the still faces of the witches that lay beyond them, uncreased and pale in the glow of the moon that hung above them. “In the end,” he said wryly, “Is not all death peaceful?” Their blood had pooled thickly around them, and it stained at their clothing— so dark that it almost appeared black. The god called him Vincent and he wanted to wince: it was a name that he had not answered to in years, despite the fact that his mother had given it to him to bear like a brand. Her own mark of Cain, a show that she owned him, and it was a name that he would reject upon later years. The genasi looked over at the god, whose expression was both unreadable and unknowable and he was unable to draw if he had his favour or not. “I want immortality,” it was a plain enough desire, and he didn’t care to toy with words with someone who would ultimately sharpen them and use them as a blade against his throat. “The Valkyrie said that I received my element as a result of bad timing.” A smile curved on his lips, as wicked and sharp as a fish hook. “There is nothing written of it, as far as I know, I am one of the first. Perhaps you could tell me.”

“I wouldn’t have a job if all death was peaceful, would I?” Thanatos put his chin in his hand, looking at his creation. The first of his kind and he chalked it down as an element of bad timing? Thanatos truly was not paid enough to deal with the insult of such a thought. “More like opportune timing. With the veil thin enough, I was able to do more than usual. But why immortality? Isn’t a bit of my own abilities enough for you? The first of your kind. My original creation. The Hektor to my Persephone. Amazing, isn’t it?” Though his tone held a hint of sarcasm, it remained mostly monotone. It was difficult to tell if the god was falling asleep or simply bored. “i’ve used the genasi to my benefit only once before. I absorbed the power made from that knife of the Dire Wolf shifter’s bones that the gorgon fastened to create what we have now. What do you want with immortality? Whose life would you be willing to give in exchange for it?”

#saint

vclkyric:

This was not how Freya had expected this to go. Helping the genasi out had been an attempt to mend bridges that had been burned when she made the wrong decision of tearing down the veil. Now it had ended with her being pulled into Thanatos’ home. Not exactly a place she wanted to find herself, and it annoyed her mildly to find herself here without any preparation for the situation. Her arms folded over her chest, and she took a strong stance in front of the table. She did not intend to sit without invitation, and she surely did not intend to touch anything else. “If you don’t mind, I would rather stand.”

The Valkyrie preferred to do anything but sit. She was always on her feet, always moving, and sitting down at his table felt wrong. Where were the genasi anyway? If they weren’t here, hopefully he was still going to answer their call if he had dragged her down here as well. “What is it that you want from me?”

Death took a tired drag of wine from his amphora before he set the vessel down on the long table in front of him, the Norse woman’s stubbornness preceded her so her response served as little more than amusing. She was cautious, and rightfully so. This was his domain and he’d let to determine what would become of the Valkyrie who had inferred in foreign affairs for long enough. Balance was all that he cared for, this woman was ultimately Hel’s problem, but mortals bound for the Underworld would always pass through this place. The sundering and subsequent reparation of the veil had been felt here most keenly, the queen and her infernal scheming.

“I take it you aren’t hungry then.” The God remarked, laws of hospitality remained and though he got few guests here he was still the host of this realm. Though delivered in his usual deadpan, it was a simple joke. She would have been aware of the laws of the Underworld, at least he hoped. “Thirsty? Persephone was a fan of pomegranates. There’s plenty to go around.” Thanatos gestured to seemingly empty plates, and goblets with the translucent silhouettes of liquid within. Hard light framed the edges of everything, a dark mockery of the mortal world, his realm was like looking through a screaming scrying glass. “You’ve interfered enough in affairs that don’t concern you. You’re far from home. You and your Gods have no place here, go back before you start a war.”

#valkyrie

enzoxcorsetti:

“I like to say gifted,” Enzo breathed out, though his gaze was upon the shadowy world that he’d been pulled into. One by one the other genasi had disappeared, until he was faced with the god of peaceful death himself. When one was a god, he assumed arrogance was the first choice. The fact that Thanatos had responded, well, made Enzo refrain from biting out any kind of remarks. He could barely make out the shadowed forms of the old temple, blurred until the only thing that was in focus was the god himself. There were plenty of questions he had, and the genasi figured he’d settle on desperation if that’s what would make the god happy.

“I’ve put my life in your hands once before, and I’m doing it again. Stupid, maybe, but you have always been our patron.” Even with a weak heart, he’d survived a ritual that was meant to kill him. And now, he wanted to make sure his body couldn’t let him down once more. “Hel has given us a way for immortality, but I know there has to be another. One from you. Whatever you want in exchange, I probably can’t give. But I would try.”

There was something both desperate and stupid about all his genasi, Thanatos claimed more than he blessed when they performed his ritual, but he found something inherently interesting in any who were willing to put it all on the line for power. This one’s body was already weak, but physical health had nothing to do with it; there was something to be said about a level of commitment and dedication and ultimately what Thanatos would gain from bringing a new witch under his wing. It was not enough to butcher your soul and bleed out in front of death, he required more from a witch than to simply watch as they spit in the face of the Goddess who had watched over them from birth. Though, that too was amusing.

Thanatos touched Enzo’s soul with his power, and in so doing took the life of the boy’s brother in the process. “Bartering with me already lost you Marco.” Thanatos reminded, his features smooth as still water - it was a jab but an unintentional one. Enzo had nothing left to give, dealing with death had lost the genasi’s opportunity to trade with Hel. “Your soul. Your power. All of it is mine. You have nothing more that I want.”

#enzo

dantexlykos:

Immediately Dante could feel something was going wrong, a power took hold of him as an incantation fell from his lips that he’d never recall. Before long the genasi was pulled from where his feet had been firmly planted and everything went dark. When he awoke, it was to a world that Dante recognized only by shape alone - everything was wrong. The air was cold, the sky was dark, the edges of the stones appeared fuzzy as if he was looking at everything through a bright light. This was the temple of Apollo but also not, vaguely he could feel the presence of others - souls that were perhaps lost here, or trapped. There was no sound, no birds in the sky, and when Dante looked to the ocean he saw only a still wasteland of placid water. Thanatos voice would have been heard from anywhere, and though the God stood before him now he spoke and it echoed from all corners.

“I-” Dante took offence, but he swallowed whatever pride threatened to regurgitate in front of the God who held the genasi’s power in the palm of his hand. “I lost everything when the veil came down.” Desperate, then. “I’ll do anything to make sure that never happens again.”

This genasi was Norse. A Valkyrie would have more effect over him, wouldn’t he? But no, instead, he’d spit in the face of Hel, who, ironically, could give him what he wanted as a genasi. It’s why Thanatos was interested in hearing all of them out, and he regarded Dante with a raised eyebrow. The fall of the veil had been a disaster for the Olympians, and it’d stopped Thanatos from doing his own job. There was only one god who could travel between worlds without the help of the veil, and he was not the one. “Your brother, lost to Persephone. A sister, still a very devout witch of Hel – a pantheon that isn’t mine. And yet here you are.”

There was no judgement behind his tone, just a bored expression that wished to know what it was Dante exactly wanted from him. “I couldn’t stop the veil before; it was not my war. So what exactly do you want, child of Fenrir?”

#dante

saintcorvin:

He had scarcely finished wiping the blood from his palm when Thanatos appeared, curving towards him in a form that was not familiar, but distinctly human. Curiosity, as it always did, sparked in Saint’s chest as he studied Thanatos, wondering what it was that made a god choose how they appeared to their patrons. Handsome— Saint noted idly, with dark hair and and pale eyes, if he was to hand out peaceful deaths, he supposed he wouldn’t protest too much from his life being throttled out by those hands. “Neither,” he volleyed back, standing at full height. Shadows lingered by his feet, twisting around his ankles like an affectionate cat and he offered a smile. The genasi avoided charm, he had never grasped how to properly utilize it and to most his ill attempts simply came off as arrogance. “We’re resourceful, and each with our own reasons for calling you forth.” His eyes, verdant and sharp, lifted with his chin. “We are your patrons, and I’ve long awaited someone who had the power to answer the questions that I have. There are none greater than a god, so it is your wisdom that I seek.”

The souls of the two witches that Saint had sacrificed glimmered into appearance. “What does peaceful death mean to you?” The words were held with little emotion, even as Thanatos waved his fingers and the souls were shepherded off to the afterlife. It was rhetorical, anyway, he cared little for an answer to it at the moment. Death was death, sacrifice was sacrifice. “Vincent – just like his mother. A woman cursed by Persephone.” Thanatos stayed where he was, though his gaze was unrelenting and unreadable. Neither was a bold response, though they’d all had that same sort of desperation about them. This one, though, this one was his punishment. Or did Saint even know that? “Wisdom. Such a weapon, isn’t it. Maybe if you ask the correct questions, you’ll have an answer. But that all depends on you. Do you even know why you exist?”

#saint

mavenlockwood:

There’s about eight hundred things moving through Maven’s mind at once, as she finds herself suddenly ripped away from the Temple of Apollo and into— well, she doesn’t know, actually. But it’s easy to tell that she is no longer on earth, and all the other genasi are gone as well. Instead, all that remains is the god of death himself standing before her. A string of curses run through her head, mostly directed at the others for pulling her into this, but also to herself for ever even considering this idea to begin with. Because now she is in the presence of a god with empty hands, one who looks upon her as if she were a bug that could be easily squashed underfoot. Maven has done a lot of dumb things across her nearly thirty years of life, but this must almost surely count for the worst.

But the fire genasi is a creature of habit, and when afraid, she has always resorted to a manner of peacocking. To straighten her spine, stand up as tall as her frame will allow, and attempt to keep her voice steady. Even when standing in the face of Thanatos, the god who gave her this power and could likely just as easily strip it away, she does not want to cower. “Curiosity, mostly,” she says, an attempt to keep her voice level despite her nerves. “I wanted to know if it could be done.” And if being entirely truthful, Maven would admit that she was wagering on no. Never did she ever consider she would find herself standing here in his presence. “And a fire genasi was necessary to complete the ritual. There is no other in the city.”

Ego was heavy, transparent too. This one blanketed herself in it and wore it as if it was an armour that would protect her. She was young, a blink of an existence in his immortal eye. But young too for that of a genasi, the God’s hands had wrapped around her soul in a moment where she was desperate for power. She was prepared to risk everything for it, her soul was one that had been marred by Persephone already and the truth was that it amused Thanatos to hold it in his own hands now - spirited away from the Goddess over Elysium. Hades’ unnatural bride who scorned death at every turn, her followers were a stain, creatures that hungered fiendishly for the blood of his followers.

Complacency was a tiresome motivation, Thanatos had been there through every moment of her ritual - when she severed her connection to Hecate in favour of the power that she now freely wielded. “You my loyal follower,” The God mimicked as he circled the genasi, reciting the words she’d called to him with, as he circled the hard reflection of the Temple of Apollo. “called to me for guidance.” Thanatos stopped short of the woman, he despised those who simply followed others. Nobody butchered their souls for the sake of fitting in. “And I answered.” The decision to use the genasi’s shared power to bring them into his realm was made on a whim, but Maven stood before him now - tall, proud, a neophyte in her own power but brimming with promise. “I take it you don’t intend to waste my time.”

#maven

@vclkyric

The Norse woman was a long ways from home and interfering in affairs that had nothing to do with them. It was troublesome, and it was not lost on the God of Death that through this Valkyrie Hel’s secret to immortality had been gifted to his followers. It was not the natural order of things for any mortal creature to live forever, though his genasi were powerful, their bodies were weak and frail. Their magic came with a price and it left the withered, sickly, and rotting until eventually they - along with everyone else - passed through his realm.

Now here she stood once again, interfering in matters that did not concern her, lending her power to Thanatos’ followers all while whispering words of aid and encouragement. It was a tiring display of chivalry and while he had little interest in what his followers wanted, he had some degree of motivation to discover what it was that this Norse intended to do next. She’d already cooperated in tearing down the veil and brought back an extant line of shifters that the Aesir had banished from this world.

So when Thanatos reached through his genasi and used their power to bring them into his realm, the God of Death dragged Valkyrie in as well. Instead of the Temple where he had gathered his genasi, Thanatos called her to his home where he sat at the end of a long table. The shades of individuals he’d found interesting over millennia lingered about the chamber, pouring empty jugs of wine into empty glasses, clearing nothing from plates and flitting in and out of view. “Welcome,” the God of Death greeted, Loki’s mischief clung to the woman’s immortal form even here so far from the Norse realms. “sit.” He had invited her into his home, and gestured now for her to break bread at his table, Greek laws of hospitality prevented any harm from befalling her now. Though they were far from Hades and Persephone’s castle, this was still part of the Underworld and even a drop of wine would mean that Valkyrie could never leave.

#valkyrie

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