FRESH OFF MT. OLYMPUS WE PRESENT YOU NYX. HERE IN SEOUL THEY ARE KNOWN AS WU MEIXING, SAID TO BE TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD. LOCALS SAY THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE SONG QIAN, DO YOU SEE IT? EITHER WAY, I WONDER WHAT THEIR FATE WILL BE.
is there any chance for this roleplay to expand? make it for twenty people maybe????
a similar question has been answered here before. i should add that the mentioned possibility of an expansion is not planned in the foreseeable future, since we have literally just opened yesterday.
that concludes our opening and the first round of acceptances! everyone should have received a private message with an invitation to our discord server. joining is not mandatory but heavily encouraged in order to ease the plotting process and become a tight knit group. i am so excited to get to writing with you all :~) again, i won't be around much this weekend but i will be with you all on monday! if you have any troubles, you can always shoot the main a message though.
FRESH OFF MT. OLYMPUS WE PRESENT YOU HESTIA. HERE IN SEOUL THEY ARE KNOWN AS BAE HYEJIN, SAID TO BE TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS OLD. LOCALS SAY THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE LEE SOONKYU, DO YOU SEE IT? EITHER WAY, I WONDER WHAT THEIR FATE WILL BE.
FRESH OFF MT. OLYMPUS WE PRESENT YOU ARES. HERE IN SEOUL THEY ARE KNOWN AS KANG HANSOL, SAID TO BE TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD. LOCALS SAY THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE SEO KANG JOON, DO YOU SEE IT? EITHER WAY, I WONDER WHAT THEIR FATE WILL BE.
FRESH OFF MT. OLYMPUS WE PRESENT YOU ATHENA. HERE IN SEOUL THEY ARE KNOWN AS PARK SIYEON, SAID TO BE TWENTY-SIX YEARS OLD. LOCALS SAY THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE AHN HEEYEON, DO YOU SEE IT? EITHER WAY, I WONDER WHAT THEIR FATE WILL BE.
FRESH OFF MT. OLYMPUS WE PRESENT YOU HEPHAESTUS. HERE IN SEOUL THEY ARE KNOWN AS SON JUWON, SAID TO BE TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD. LOCALS SAY THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE JI CHANG WOOK, DO YOU SEE IT? EITHER WAY, I WONDER WHAT THEIR FATE WILL BE.
i.
he opens his eyes in lemnos, an island just off the coast of greece. a soft breeze caresses the side of his face, his back resting against a bed of sand. as if after a lapse in memory, hephaestus slowly regains consciousness, the fire in his veins return.
his legs ache, the sun is so bright in the sky that he needs to bring his hand up to save himself from helios’ fiery gaze. it only bothers him for a few seconds, before he fully understands what has happened. cast off mount olympus, his clenches his fists and sits up, looking down at his own mangled legs, the memory of being powerful and lavish just on that very mountain. i’ll go back, he promises, and the next thing he knows, sintians have come to his aid, singing praises and showering him with medicine and food.
ii.
the god is pleased to say the least, those who are called destroyers worship him so well that he takes them under his own wing, and promises them power as long as they continue their praise. it only takes some time until the god is back in his previous glory, working with them, teaching them his own craft as they forge metal with unforgiving fire.
hephaestus makes them extraordinary weapons fit for gods, and it just takes another war for him to prove his worth yet again. thetis comes to him, and he makes a great shield fit for a great warrior. for achilles, a shield and a sword are forged of excellent quality, strong yet light in weight; stories written on that surface that leave every mortal to marvel at its beauty. even gods are jealous of his crafts, so he is called once again to forge them whatever they wish, his own pride swelling at praise coming from such lips.
iii.
a lot more happens in the span of an eternity. bonds are made and broken, many words that take the façade of truth turn out to be a lie after all. and hephaestus, more humanlike in emotion and mind than he would ever like — gets caught in a wave he doesn’t know how to get off.
he tells himself it’s love, he believes it is love — what else can it be? that warmth of a feeling that swells inside him, making him forget his lameness, the deformaiton so clear to see on his face. he believes and loves, perhaps unlike his own worshippers that lie at his own feet. he showers her with calm, rough hands worshipping her silky touch, well-crafted pieces of jewelry, his own masterpieces — made just for her.
and as all good things do, it all ends. it leaves him bitter, heartbroken, furious in a way that he doesn’t remember ever being. it’s hard to channel all that emotion, so hephaestus finds solace in two things; creating more, and drinking more.
iv.
then something interesting happens — hephaestus had never been too interested in fights between gods that at first, he thinks it’s nothing but that — but this, it’s not a simple strife between lovers or enemies. this concerns them all in a way that he doesn’t know what to do with it. he opens his eyes in a haze from ambrosia and wine; and sees the sky filled with fire he hasn’t ignited himself.
screams fill the air, war chants that come from no one but the titans themselves. gods around him are in a frenzy, and before hephaestus can even begin to understand what the hell is going on, everything turns dark, and that’s the last memory he has of his previous life.
000.
this time, he opens his eyes in seoul, in a small flat with big windows, night lights of the city illuminating the dark room. and just like that, he isn’t hepheastus anymore. the god of fire has lost all his power, and learns that he can’t even make a simple spark with the snap of his fingers. it’s all gone, and to wake up in a mortal body is more disorienting than he ever thought it would be, more disorienting than that day he washed up on the shore of lemnos.
you’re not hephaestus, a voice supplies unhelpfully. son juwon, that’s who you are. and memories come back in a rush, an unfamiliar past that’s supposed to be his. it’s not too well-constructed, he supposes, this person has no wealth or power — but it gives him a clear vision of who son juwon is, and who he himself is supposed to be.
he stands on steady feet, and raises a hand to his face, traces the foreign lines with hands that are much softer than he remembers. a frown spreads to his lips as he searches for a source of light, blindly touching the walls until he finds the device to turn them on. there’s a mirror at the corner of his room, and in a matter of seconds, juwon stands in front of it, looking at the physical body he’s in.
his heart leaps, an odd feeling fills his chest — there is no deformation, no obvious scars that became a part of himself; and even though that fire in his veins is dimmed, he finds that he likes standing on two steady, strong feet. it’ll take some time getting used to, he supposes, and wishes if only he had powers too.
001.
it’s a punishment, that much is clear — yet hephaestus finds out soon enough that son juwon isn’t too different in character at all. he also works with machinery, skilled hands work on wires, forging the casing of different machines. it has more to do with technology than he would have ever thought, but he learns that juwon is an engineer, a good one at that, dabbling in both theoretics and practice.
on his free time, he works for a friend of his, a goldsmith, working with her clothing line and designing jewellery like he used to. it’s clear to see this job is much more creative, yet juwon cherishes the contrast between his day-to-day job and working on jewellery with her, skilled hands crafting gold and silver to go with the designs she makes.
002.
it takes a lot less time to get used to a mortal body than he would have ever thought — and even less than that to fall back into his old habits. the earthly vices are strong, maybe nowhere near those on mount olympus, but juwon finds out that some scars remain, and drinking is quite helpful to forget.
there is no ambrosia, or divine delights, but he makes do, enjoys his work in the day, and drowns his sorrows with liquor at night. some nights he spends by his desk working, designing, crafting, and some nights he doesn’t even remember the night before.
it’s a much weaker body, but juwon continues on living — when he’s so drunk at night that he can’t remember the day before, he even questions if this life is any different, but then again, a damned headache in the morning always reveals that yes, yes it is.
FRESH OFF MT. OLYMPUS WE PRESENT YOU DEMETER. HERE IN SEOUL THEY ARE KNOWN AS SONG BITNA, SAID TO BE TWENTY-NINE YEARS OLD. LOCALS SAY THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE JUNG SOOYEON, DO YOU SEE IT? EITHER WAY, I WONDER WHAT THEIR FATE WILL BE.
she is hope for good fortune, she is life and charity embodied through the wind, the sky, the grains in your crops and the grass between nonchalant fingers. she is your breath of relief after a harsh winter and the soft sun on an autumn day. she smiles upon you when food is placed on a table and the thought of your good fortune has finally chanced upon you.
she is demeter, of hope, love and good will, of good fortune – she is your lucky charm. if she smiles upon you, good fortune is soon to come. ( of golden grains, and greenery that stretches every facet of the earth ; of delicious foods, fresh from the earth : mother nature’s own mother )
but what demeter does for others, she fails to do for herself. in life, she gives and gives – gives until she’s practically bled dry. skin brittle, veins cold and gray – winter comes and she’s near death, having smiled upon many ; her last breath taken as she gives to those who need her.
( but who is there to save her, in the end? )
she’ll give and give until there’s nothing left. demeter does as she pleases and follows none of her own teachings, humbled by the idea that people need her – always one to sacrifice in order to quench that need. but people can be greedy, people can be careless.
and these sins rub off on a girl who’s heart is too wide to fit in such a small cage full of vines and flowers and dirt ; dug so deep that one wonders if the whole world was actually built on her remains. she becomes greedy for people who need her ; her selfless deeds becoming selfish as she conjures details into people’s life that makes them need her.
manipulating necessities that turn deaths in a matter of seconds ; the tides of a new age come and go and she watches the world burn – calling for her in their time of need.
this was her sin, one she holds close to her heart of vines and flowers and dirt. laid six feet deep from the surface ; never to breach the earth. a secret that she buries in her fears, among them – a lost friendship,
( of days of beautiful sun, sky blue skies, of flowers in bloom and in their hair – of laughter that sung for hours, of skin on skin and hands in hands. of a beautiful friendship that was meant to last and never end – until it did )
and a loss that plunges the earth into despair and starts up that need all over again.
one harvest fails, the people wail – seconds from winter, she makes the crops sing and the flowers bloom. the earth feels like it has stopped spinning as the people cheer, they roar – they pray to her.
they need her, and all demeter ever wanted was to be needed.
( and the only person who had in return done the same … disappeared )
she plunders, deeper … deeper,
but in a new life – flowers still bloom. the life of such beautiful fineries shake beneath her fingertips and wilts when the slightest turn of her lips comes on a day the sky darkens and she knows zeus is near.
she atones for her selfishness in secret ; hidden among the masses, wondering if olympus would ever come for her – knowing she didn’t deserved to be welcomed back.
she is bitna, a girl who is told to shine but only wishes to hide in the shadows of her lost heart.
FRESH OFF MT. OLYMPUS WE PRESENT YOU POSEIDON. HERE IN SEOUL THEY ARE KNOWN AS PYO JOONKI, SAID TO BE TWENTY-EIGHT YEARS OLD. LOCALS SAY THEY LOOK A LOT LIKE BYUN BAEKHYUN, DO YOU SEE IT? EITHER WAY, I WONDER WHAT THEIR FATE WILL BE.
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