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It was busy as per usual in the Underworld. From where Hades sat at his stone table right in the fork of the Dividing Road, in the middle of the Plains of Punishment. This was where he worked, judging the dead souls who come to him after passing the River Styx and after Cerberus has not bitten their heads off upon entrance to the Underworld. There, many of his working souls would occasionally swipe the parchments that documented his work off for storage, while on the other side, more would pile up for his perusal.
Tougher cases, the souls were brought to him directly, but these days Hades preferred to go through their life which the Fates would send to him upon their death and departure from the Overworld. Similar to a busy train station, sounds of clinking chains, screams and shouts can be heard from all directions. It was an organized chaos in which Hades worked in, something he had gotten used to in his centuries of serving as the God of Lost Souls.
But even Gods get tired.
With a frustrated run of his hand through his hair, a loud groan was ripped from his throat as he lay his face on the cooling stone table, seated on his ebony throne. The sound startled many, and the workers quickly hurried along, worried that he would assume they were slacking in their duties. Hades was a tough taskmaster, efficient and quick to anger - he had to, or the Underworld would erupt in chaos. But many a time, it frustrated the God. How was it fair that his brothers and brethren got the easy job of frolicking above the air, while he had to deal with this farce of a job?
"Orpheus," he growled out, tossing his quill aside and standing up. His dark cloak and black chiton swirled around him as he strode down the steps, his assistant perking up. "I'll return to these later. Organize them as per usual."
With that, the God strode his long steps to the entrance of the Underworld, where for the first time since the day has started, he smiled. Cerberus had whimpered at his passing, the three headed beast eager for attention from his master. Attention that Hades was not shy on giving. Cerberus was a loyal being that proved an integral part of his Underworld, and Hades always awarded him appropriately. Reaching up as Cerberus bent all three heads down, the beast lashed his dragon tail happily as Hades rubbed beneath the neck of all three heads, one at a time, until sufficient attention was given.
Once done, the God proceeded on his way after waving a hand to hasten the process of the venemous saliva of his pet drying up on his cloak, the male took the steps to his private quarters - a place where he headed when work swarmed him. Throwing open the heavy stone door, Hades collapsed into the dark kline that was situated by the side of the door, eyes closing. Do Gods get headaches? Cause if they don't, then why was he getting them so often?
Rubbing his forehead, he barely noticed anything else coming in to his quarters - it wasn't as if anyone usually dared to rob the Underworld anyway.
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Jul 4, 2019 14:45:20 GMT
Posted In Unseen Chaos on Jul 4, 2019 14:45:20 GMT
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It was busy as per usual in the Underworld. From where Hades sat at his stone table right in the fork of the Dividing Road, in the middle of the Plains of Punishment. This was where he worked, judging the dead souls who come to him after passing the River Styx and after Cerberus has not bitten their heads off upon entrance to the Underworld. There, many of his working souls would occasionally swipe the parchments that documented his work off for storage, while on the other side, more would pile up for his perusal.
Tougher cases, the souls were brought to him directly, but these days Hades preferred to go through their life which the Fates would send to him upon their death and departure from the Overworld. Similar to a busy train station, sounds of clinking chains, screams and shouts can be heard from all directions. It was an organized chaos in which Hades worked in, something he had gotten used to in his centuries of serving as the God of Lost Souls.
But even Gods get tired.
With a frustrated run of his hand through his hair, a loud groan was ripped from his throat as he lay his face on the cooling stone table, seated on his ebony throne. The sound startled many, and the workers quickly hurried along, worried that he would assume they were slacking in their duties. Hades was a tough taskmaster, efficient and quick to anger - he had to, or the Underworld would erupt in chaos. But many a time, it frustrated the God. How was it fair that his brothers and brethren got the easy job of frolicking above the air, while he had to deal with this farce of a job?
"Orpheus," he growled out, tossing his quill aside and standing up. His dark cloak and black chiton swirled around him as he strode down the steps, his assistant perking up. "I'll return to these later. Organize them as per usual."
With that, the God strode his long steps to the entrance of the Underworld, where for the first time since the day has started, he smiled. Cerberus had whimpered at his passing, the three headed beast eager for attention from his master. Attention that Hades was not shy on giving. Cerberus was a loyal being that proved an integral part of his Underworld, and Hades always awarded him appropriately. Reaching up as Cerberus bent all three heads down, the beast lashed his dragon tail happily as Hades rubbed beneath the neck of all three heads, one at a time, until sufficient attention was given.
Once done, the God proceeded on his way after waving a hand to hasten the process of the venemous saliva of his pet drying up on his cloak, the male took the steps to his private quarters - a place where he headed when work swarmed him. Throwing open the heavy stone door, Hades collapsed into the dark kline that was situated by the side of the door, eyes closing. Do Gods get headaches? Cause if they don't, then why was he getting them so often?
Rubbing his forehead, he barely noticed anything else coming in to his quarters - it wasn't as if anyone usually dared to rob the Underworld anyway.
It was busy as per usual in the Underworld. From where Hades sat at his stone table right in the fork of the Dividing Road, in the middle of the Plains of Punishment. This was where he worked, judging the dead souls who come to him after passing the River Styx and after Cerberus has not bitten their heads off upon entrance to the Underworld. There, many of his working souls would occasionally swipe the parchments that documented his work off for storage, while on the other side, more would pile up for his perusal.
Tougher cases, the souls were brought to him directly, but these days Hades preferred to go through their life which the Fates would send to him upon their death and departure from the Overworld. Similar to a busy train station, sounds of clinking chains, screams and shouts can be heard from all directions. It was an organized chaos in which Hades worked in, something he had gotten used to in his centuries of serving as the God of Lost Souls.
But even Gods get tired.
With a frustrated run of his hand through his hair, a loud groan was ripped from his throat as he lay his face on the cooling stone table, seated on his ebony throne. The sound startled many, and the workers quickly hurried along, worried that he would assume they were slacking in their duties. Hades was a tough taskmaster, efficient and quick to anger - he had to, or the Underworld would erupt in chaos. But many a time, it frustrated the God. How was it fair that his brothers and brethren got the easy job of frolicking above the air, while he had to deal with this farce of a job?
"Orpheus," he growled out, tossing his quill aside and standing up. His dark cloak and black chiton swirled around him as he strode down the steps, his assistant perking up. "I'll return to these later. Organize them as per usual."
With that, the God strode his long steps to the entrance of the Underworld, where for the first time since the day has started, he smiled. Cerberus had whimpered at his passing, the three headed beast eager for attention from his master. Attention that Hades was not shy on giving. Cerberus was a loyal being that proved an integral part of his Underworld, and Hades always awarded him appropriately. Reaching up as Cerberus bent all three heads down, the beast lashed his dragon tail happily as Hades rubbed beneath the neck of all three heads, one at a time, until sufficient attention was given.
Once done, the God proceeded on his way after waving a hand to hasten the process of the venemous saliva of his pet drying up on his cloak, the male took the steps to his private quarters - a place where he headed when work swarmed him. Throwing open the heavy stone door, Hades collapsed into the dark kline that was situated by the side of the door, eyes closing. Do Gods get headaches? Cause if they don't, then why was he getting them so often?
Rubbing his forehead, he barely noticed anything else coming in to his quarters - it wasn't as if anyone usually dared to rob the Underworld anyway.
More than four hundred years elapsed since he'd last stood on Charon's boat. The silent ferryman said nothing to him when he'd squeezed through the narrow opening to the Underworld, with it's fine, black sand sliding under his feet. Instead, he'd been confronted by the ferryman's rough hand, held silently up, and awaiting payment. Whether from god or mortal, Charon would be paid for his services.
Ares conjured an obolus coin and dropped it into Charon's waiting palm. Men and women watched him step up, onto the vessel. He looked at the hopelessness of their gazes with indifference, in no mood to pay for anyone's journey. It would only take a hundred years of waiting and then they could cross for free. Mortals needed to learn patience.
Crossing the Styx was nigh impossible without Charon. Four rivers converged together in this spot, forming a huge, impassable marsh with no visible end. He had no wish to flounder in the bottomless water until one of his brethren saw fit to rescue him. Standing at the boat's front, he watched the gray gloom of the Underworld come into sharp focus. But where Hades should be, there was a growing stack of papers, an ever-lengthening line of fidgeting souls, and an empty ebony throne.
A cacophony of low, rumbling growls emanated from his right as he stepped down onto the rock shelf of the Underworld proper. From within the folds of his bright crimson cloak, Ares withdrew three pieces of honeyed bread. He'd come prepared for his uncle's monster. All three heads of the dogs snapped up as he tossed the morsels. Their massive jaws clamped and gnashed, venom spraying with each head vying for domination.
"Where is Hades?" Ares demanded, spotting Orpheus as the god shoved another paper on the desk.
"His room." Orpheus's face was that of a sullen teenager.
"Which is....which way?" Ares snapped to get the other god's attention again. The way he spoke, with disdainful sarcasm, did not improve Orpheus's mood.
"That way."
Ares turned left as Orpheus stabbed his thumb in that direction. The corridor to Hades's private rooms was long. He found himself growing bored and then frustrated as the hall seemed to get longer, not shorter, the further he walked. Abruptly, he reached the open doors. Without a second's hesitation to figure out how they'd been so far and then almost smacked him in the face, he strolled through them.
"Did you design this palace? Or was it this bad before you got here?" he asked, spying Hades lying back on the line. "I'd look into remodeling, this passage especially. It's not very inviting."
In the gloom, a crimson luminescence emitted from Ares as though he was carrying a bloody version of Olympus's ever-present light with him. The blue of his eyes held their own blazing fire, also emitting a fiery glow. For most, they could not keep eye contact with him for long. The head of the flame within could be scorching.
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Jul 4, 2019 14:45:51 GMT
Posted In Unseen Chaos on Jul 4, 2019 14:45:51 GMT
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More than four hundred years elapsed since he'd last stood on Charon's boat. The silent ferryman said nothing to him when he'd squeezed through the narrow opening to the Underworld, with it's fine, black sand sliding under his feet. Instead, he'd been confronted by the ferryman's rough hand, held silently up, and awaiting payment. Whether from god or mortal, Charon would be paid for his services.
Ares conjured an obolus coin and dropped it into Charon's waiting palm. Men and women watched him step up, onto the vessel. He looked at the hopelessness of their gazes with indifference, in no mood to pay for anyone's journey. It would only take a hundred years of waiting and then they could cross for free. Mortals needed to learn patience.
Crossing the Styx was nigh impossible without Charon. Four rivers converged together in this spot, forming a huge, impassable marsh with no visible end. He had no wish to flounder in the bottomless water until one of his brethren saw fit to rescue him. Standing at the boat's front, he watched the gray gloom of the Underworld come into sharp focus. But where Hades should be, there was a growing stack of papers, an ever-lengthening line of fidgeting souls, and an empty ebony throne.
A cacophony of low, rumbling growls emanated from his right as he stepped down onto the rock shelf of the Underworld proper. From within the folds of his bright crimson cloak, Ares withdrew three pieces of honeyed bread. He'd come prepared for his uncle's monster. All three heads of the dogs snapped up as he tossed the morsels. Their massive jaws clamped and gnashed, venom spraying with each head vying for domination.
"Where is Hades?" Ares demanded, spotting Orpheus as the god shoved another paper on the desk.
"His room." Orpheus's face was that of a sullen teenager.
"Which is....which way?" Ares snapped to get the other god's attention again. The way he spoke, with disdainful sarcasm, did not improve Orpheus's mood.
"That way."
Ares turned left as Orpheus stabbed his thumb in that direction. The corridor to Hades's private rooms was long. He found himself growing bored and then frustrated as the hall seemed to get longer, not shorter, the further he walked. Abruptly, he reached the open doors. Without a second's hesitation to figure out how they'd been so far and then almost smacked him in the face, he strolled through them.
"Did you design this palace? Or was it this bad before you got here?" he asked, spying Hades lying back on the line. "I'd look into remodeling, this passage especially. It's not very inviting."
In the gloom, a crimson luminescence emitted from Ares as though he was carrying a bloody version of Olympus's ever-present light with him. The blue of his eyes held their own blazing fire, also emitting a fiery glow. For most, they could not keep eye contact with him for long. The head of the flame within could be scorching.
More than four hundred years elapsed since he'd last stood on Charon's boat. The silent ferryman said nothing to him when he'd squeezed through the narrow opening to the Underworld, with it's fine, black sand sliding under his feet. Instead, he'd been confronted by the ferryman's rough hand, held silently up, and awaiting payment. Whether from god or mortal, Charon would be paid for his services.
Ares conjured an obolus coin and dropped it into Charon's waiting palm. Men and women watched him step up, onto the vessel. He looked at the hopelessness of their gazes with indifference, in no mood to pay for anyone's journey. It would only take a hundred years of waiting and then they could cross for free. Mortals needed to learn patience.
Crossing the Styx was nigh impossible without Charon. Four rivers converged together in this spot, forming a huge, impassable marsh with no visible end. He had no wish to flounder in the bottomless water until one of his brethren saw fit to rescue him. Standing at the boat's front, he watched the gray gloom of the Underworld come into sharp focus. But where Hades should be, there was a growing stack of papers, an ever-lengthening line of fidgeting souls, and an empty ebony throne.
A cacophony of low, rumbling growls emanated from his right as he stepped down onto the rock shelf of the Underworld proper. From within the folds of his bright crimson cloak, Ares withdrew three pieces of honeyed bread. He'd come prepared for his uncle's monster. All three heads of the dogs snapped up as he tossed the morsels. Their massive jaws clamped and gnashed, venom spraying with each head vying for domination.
"Where is Hades?" Ares demanded, spotting Orpheus as the god shoved another paper on the desk.
"His room." Orpheus's face was that of a sullen teenager.
"Which is....which way?" Ares snapped to get the other god's attention again. The way he spoke, with disdainful sarcasm, did not improve Orpheus's mood.
"That way."
Ares turned left as Orpheus stabbed his thumb in that direction. The corridor to Hades's private rooms was long. He found himself growing bored and then frustrated as the hall seemed to get longer, not shorter, the further he walked. Abruptly, he reached the open doors. Without a second's hesitation to figure out how they'd been so far and then almost smacked him in the face, he strolled through them.
"Did you design this palace? Or was it this bad before you got here?" he asked, spying Hades lying back on the line. "I'd look into remodeling, this passage especially. It's not very inviting."
In the gloom, a crimson luminescence emitted from Ares as though he was carrying a bloody version of Olympus's ever-present light with him. The blue of his eyes held their own blazing fire, also emitting a fiery glow. For most, they could not keep eye contact with him for long. The head of the flame within could be scorching.
He felt more then heard the entrance of Ares. The Underworld was a maze of caverns that had been built and infused with his innate dislike of being disturbed - not many found him unless he allowed it after all. Too many lost souls had thought they could get away from the punishment meted out by the coldly just God of the Underworld, and tried to escape, only to find themselves running in circles that was the catacombs Hades had used to fashion his realm over. His control over everything belowground enabled him perfect navigation over the magnetic poles of the earth - at the same time, Hades also innately knew when someone had breached his private quarters.
Ares's entrance had brought a groan to his lips, and for the longest moment, the dark-haired god contemplated letting his nephew wander the hallways until he finally got frustrated and left. While he had no hard feelings for the god of war, his nephew was not an easy character. He was innately arrogant and egoistical - two things that Hades could not stand. As the one who passed judgment on all souls passing by the Underworld, Hades was impossibly fair and knew enough to know that his nephew has probably pissed off enough people to warrant the Fields of Punishment.
Except he was a god.
And he gave Hades many souls as fodder for his realm.
With a long-suffering sigh, the male god got up to a seated position and gave a lazy wave of his hand that would bring Ares right at the entrance of his private chambers. To no surprise of his, his nephew made a grand entrance as he always did, not even bothering with a greeting as he barreled in larger than life in his crimson cloak and full armor. Hades scowled at the god of war's words, rolling his eyes. "Are you thinking of starting an interior design side job? If you were that bored, I would be getting a lot more souls entering now wouldn't I?" Hades retorted, flicking his wrist so the door closed with a slam, and then moving his legs down so both feet were grounded. "It wasn't meant to be inviting."
Not that any of his realm was inviting really. The catacombs that made up the Underworld seeped with more than a chilly aura. The cold seemed to permeate one's skin, and despite the cacophony that was at the main area of the Underworld, the deeper hallways echoed eerily with silence, the occasional loud wail and... nothing else, really. One could almost mistake themselves as being all alone in the world.
With a withering gaze at Ares, Hades ran a hand through his dark hair, as he stood up. The dark cloak he wore draped like a black waterfall around his ankles, melding well with his black chiton to make it seem as if Hades had a dark shadow perpetually at his ankles. "To what do I owe to your esteemed presence in my chambers, nephew?" By then, his tone had taken a silky, barely reined tone of mild frustration, one that was always present when he spoke to any of the Olympians who descended into his realm. He had always been busier compared to them - a fact that Hades was bitter over, yet could do nothing about.
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Jul 4, 2019 14:46:16 GMT
Posted In Unseen Chaos on Jul 4, 2019 14:46:16 GMT
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He felt more then heard the entrance of Ares. The Underworld was a maze of caverns that had been built and infused with his innate dislike of being disturbed - not many found him unless he allowed it after all. Too many lost souls had thought they could get away from the punishment meted out by the coldly just God of the Underworld, and tried to escape, only to find themselves running in circles that was the catacombs Hades had used to fashion his realm over. His control over everything belowground enabled him perfect navigation over the magnetic poles of the earth - at the same time, Hades also innately knew when someone had breached his private quarters.
Ares's entrance had brought a groan to his lips, and for the longest moment, the dark-haired god contemplated letting his nephew wander the hallways until he finally got frustrated and left. While he had no hard feelings for the god of war, his nephew was not an easy character. He was innately arrogant and egoistical - two things that Hades could not stand. As the one who passed judgment on all souls passing by the Underworld, Hades was impossibly fair and knew enough to know that his nephew has probably pissed off enough people to warrant the Fields of Punishment.
Except he was a god.
And he gave Hades many souls as fodder for his realm.
With a long-suffering sigh, the male god got up to a seated position and gave a lazy wave of his hand that would bring Ares right at the entrance of his private chambers. To no surprise of his, his nephew made a grand entrance as he always did, not even bothering with a greeting as he barreled in larger than life in his crimson cloak and full armor. Hades scowled at the god of war's words, rolling his eyes. "Are you thinking of starting an interior design side job? If you were that bored, I would be getting a lot more souls entering now wouldn't I?" Hades retorted, flicking his wrist so the door closed with a slam, and then moving his legs down so both feet were grounded. "It wasn't meant to be inviting."
Not that any of his realm was inviting really. The catacombs that made up the Underworld seeped with more than a chilly aura. The cold seemed to permeate one's skin, and despite the cacophony that was at the main area of the Underworld, the deeper hallways echoed eerily with silence, the occasional loud wail and... nothing else, really. One could almost mistake themselves as being all alone in the world.
With a withering gaze at Ares, Hades ran a hand through his dark hair, as he stood up. The dark cloak he wore draped like a black waterfall around his ankles, melding well with his black chiton to make it seem as if Hades had a dark shadow perpetually at his ankles. "To what do I owe to your esteemed presence in my chambers, nephew?" By then, his tone had taken a silky, barely reined tone of mild frustration, one that was always present when he spoke to any of the Olympians who descended into his realm. He had always been busier compared to them - a fact that Hades was bitter over, yet could do nothing about.
He felt more then heard the entrance of Ares. The Underworld was a maze of caverns that had been built and infused with his innate dislike of being disturbed - not many found him unless he allowed it after all. Too many lost souls had thought they could get away from the punishment meted out by the coldly just God of the Underworld, and tried to escape, only to find themselves running in circles that was the catacombs Hades had used to fashion his realm over. His control over everything belowground enabled him perfect navigation over the magnetic poles of the earth - at the same time, Hades also innately knew when someone had breached his private quarters.
Ares's entrance had brought a groan to his lips, and for the longest moment, the dark-haired god contemplated letting his nephew wander the hallways until he finally got frustrated and left. While he had no hard feelings for the god of war, his nephew was not an easy character. He was innately arrogant and egoistical - two things that Hades could not stand. As the one who passed judgment on all souls passing by the Underworld, Hades was impossibly fair and knew enough to know that his nephew has probably pissed off enough people to warrant the Fields of Punishment.
Except he was a god.
And he gave Hades many souls as fodder for his realm.
With a long-suffering sigh, the male god got up to a seated position and gave a lazy wave of his hand that would bring Ares right at the entrance of his private chambers. To no surprise of his, his nephew made a grand entrance as he always did, not even bothering with a greeting as he barreled in larger than life in his crimson cloak and full armor. Hades scowled at the god of war's words, rolling his eyes. "Are you thinking of starting an interior design side job? If you were that bored, I would be getting a lot more souls entering now wouldn't I?" Hades retorted, flicking his wrist so the door closed with a slam, and then moving his legs down so both feet were grounded. "It wasn't meant to be inviting."
Not that any of his realm was inviting really. The catacombs that made up the Underworld seeped with more than a chilly aura. The cold seemed to permeate one's skin, and despite the cacophony that was at the main area of the Underworld, the deeper hallways echoed eerily with silence, the occasional loud wail and... nothing else, really. One could almost mistake themselves as being all alone in the world.
With a withering gaze at Ares, Hades ran a hand through his dark hair, as he stood up. The dark cloak he wore draped like a black waterfall around his ankles, melding well with his black chiton to make it seem as if Hades had a dark shadow perpetually at his ankles. "To what do I owe to your esteemed presence in my chambers, nephew?" By then, his tone had taken a silky, barely reined tone of mild frustration, one that was always present when he spoke to any of the Olympians who descended into his realm. He had always been busier compared to them - a fact that Hades was bitter over, yet could do nothing about.
“I could do better than this,” he flicked his wrist at the room. It was beautiful in its own way; black marble floors feeding into black marble walls with jagged rock as a foreboding ceiling. The dark of it was oppressive and confining.
Ares did not like being confined.
He followed Hades’s movements with his eyes only until the other god coldly asked why he’d taken the trouble of coming down here. And it had been trouble. The time it took for his servants to fix up his four horses, for him to fly all the way from Olympus to the gaping maw of the Underworld’s entrance from the mortal realm, the unbearably boring walk through black rock tunnels and shifting black sand….
“I came to discuss plans,” he said, turning away from Hades and moving over to a table. Papers were here too, as though the God of Souls never took an actual break. “Why do you always wear black?” He asked offhandedly. “Constantly wearing dark colors will always put you in a foul mood. You need dress in something with a little flare to it.”
Without taking his eyes off the papers, Ares lazily made a circle motion with his hand. Above Hades, four flowing chitons appeared. Their deep, jeweled hues of purple, azure, vermillon, and emerald would not offend the eyes in the dark of the Underworld. The corner of his mouth flicked up as he dropped his hand. All four chiton plummeted toward Hades’s head in a plume of fabric.
Turning to see if his uncle was covered in the chitons, or had managed to move, Ares fully smiled but he did not laugh. “I’m aching for war,” he rolled his neck. “There’s been too much peace. I give Prince Irakles the battle axe and still nothing. He aches for it, I can feel it...but he’s confused war for murder.” Ares’s hands closed into fists as he grit his teeth. The blue of his eyes blazed white hot for a moment, as though the flames might jump out and consume Irakles’s incompetence from here.
“I don’t want the tiny, measley blood of a few,” Ares licked his lips as though he could taste it. “When he put Zenon’s head on a pike?” his eyes closed and he breathed in as though the smoke from the circus and the screams were around him. He’d reimagined the moment over and over in his mind, though, to be fair, it had only been Irakles to put it in motion. The Creed were truly responsible.
“Ah it was glorious.” He held his hands up as though cupping Irakles’s face. “I could feel the rumblings of civil war...Stephanos wanted revenge...Irakles wanted revenge...They could gather their barons and the clash of bodies on Taengea would have been complete. Can you imagine the mortals? Their city burns and their swords strike each other with the verdant fields in the background?”
His voice had taken on a dreamy quality, as though he was speaking of a lover and not laying waste to the mortal realm and thousands of lives in the process. All at once he came back to himself. He turned and swiped his arm over the top of Hades’s desk. Papers flew. Ares all but screamed.
“And I come back to find them working together! Politicking!” White and blue flames leapt out of his eyes. Each paper close to him burst into flame. He could barely see for the dizzying rage.
He breathed in, closing his eyes. Underneath his eyelids the inferno blazed for another brief moment before he brought himself under control. With a swallow and an exhale, he opened his eyes again, smiling at Hades. “But I have a new focus. Have you seen Athenia? It’s a volcano, waiting to explode.”
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Jul 4, 2019 14:46:41 GMT
Posted In Unseen Chaos on Jul 4, 2019 14:46:41 GMT
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“I could do better than this,” he flicked his wrist at the room. It was beautiful in its own way; black marble floors feeding into black marble walls with jagged rock as a foreboding ceiling. The dark of it was oppressive and confining.
Ares did not like being confined.
He followed Hades’s movements with his eyes only until the other god coldly asked why he’d taken the trouble of coming down here. And it had been trouble. The time it took for his servants to fix up his four horses, for him to fly all the way from Olympus to the gaping maw of the Underworld’s entrance from the mortal realm, the unbearably boring walk through black rock tunnels and shifting black sand….
“I came to discuss plans,” he said, turning away from Hades and moving over to a table. Papers were here too, as though the God of Souls never took an actual break. “Why do you always wear black?” He asked offhandedly. “Constantly wearing dark colors will always put you in a foul mood. You need dress in something with a little flare to it.”
Without taking his eyes off the papers, Ares lazily made a circle motion with his hand. Above Hades, four flowing chitons appeared. Their deep, jeweled hues of purple, azure, vermillon, and emerald would not offend the eyes in the dark of the Underworld. The corner of his mouth flicked up as he dropped his hand. All four chiton plummeted toward Hades’s head in a plume of fabric.
Turning to see if his uncle was covered in the chitons, or had managed to move, Ares fully smiled but he did not laugh. “I’m aching for war,” he rolled his neck. “There’s been too much peace. I give Prince Irakles the battle axe and still nothing. He aches for it, I can feel it...but he’s confused war for murder.” Ares’s hands closed into fists as he grit his teeth. The blue of his eyes blazed white hot for a moment, as though the flames might jump out and consume Irakles’s incompetence from here.
“I don’t want the tiny, measley blood of a few,” Ares licked his lips as though he could taste it. “When he put Zenon’s head on a pike?” his eyes closed and he breathed in as though the smoke from the circus and the screams were around him. He’d reimagined the moment over and over in his mind, though, to be fair, it had only been Irakles to put it in motion. The Creed were truly responsible.
“Ah it was glorious.” He held his hands up as though cupping Irakles’s face. “I could feel the rumblings of civil war...Stephanos wanted revenge...Irakles wanted revenge...They could gather their barons and the clash of bodies on Taengea would have been complete. Can you imagine the mortals? Their city burns and their swords strike each other with the verdant fields in the background?”
His voice had taken on a dreamy quality, as though he was speaking of a lover and not laying waste to the mortal realm and thousands of lives in the process. All at once he came back to himself. He turned and swiped his arm over the top of Hades’s desk. Papers flew. Ares all but screamed.
“And I come back to find them working together! Politicking!” White and blue flames leapt out of his eyes. Each paper close to him burst into flame. He could barely see for the dizzying rage.
He breathed in, closing his eyes. Underneath his eyelids the inferno blazed for another brief moment before he brought himself under control. With a swallow and an exhale, he opened his eyes again, smiling at Hades. “But I have a new focus. Have you seen Athenia? It’s a volcano, waiting to explode.”
“I could do better than this,” he flicked his wrist at the room. It was beautiful in its own way; black marble floors feeding into black marble walls with jagged rock as a foreboding ceiling. The dark of it was oppressive and confining.
Ares did not like being confined.
He followed Hades’s movements with his eyes only until the other god coldly asked why he’d taken the trouble of coming down here. And it had been trouble. The time it took for his servants to fix up his four horses, for him to fly all the way from Olympus to the gaping maw of the Underworld’s entrance from the mortal realm, the unbearably boring walk through black rock tunnels and shifting black sand….
“I came to discuss plans,” he said, turning away from Hades and moving over to a table. Papers were here too, as though the God of Souls never took an actual break. “Why do you always wear black?” He asked offhandedly. “Constantly wearing dark colors will always put you in a foul mood. You need dress in something with a little flare to it.”
Without taking his eyes off the papers, Ares lazily made a circle motion with his hand. Above Hades, four flowing chitons appeared. Their deep, jeweled hues of purple, azure, vermillon, and emerald would not offend the eyes in the dark of the Underworld. The corner of his mouth flicked up as he dropped his hand. All four chiton plummeted toward Hades’s head in a plume of fabric.
Turning to see if his uncle was covered in the chitons, or had managed to move, Ares fully smiled but he did not laugh. “I’m aching for war,” he rolled his neck. “There’s been too much peace. I give Prince Irakles the battle axe and still nothing. He aches for it, I can feel it...but he’s confused war for murder.” Ares’s hands closed into fists as he grit his teeth. The blue of his eyes blazed white hot for a moment, as though the flames might jump out and consume Irakles’s incompetence from here.
“I don’t want the tiny, measley blood of a few,” Ares licked his lips as though he could taste it. “When he put Zenon’s head on a pike?” his eyes closed and he breathed in as though the smoke from the circus and the screams were around him. He’d reimagined the moment over and over in his mind, though, to be fair, it had only been Irakles to put it in motion. The Creed were truly responsible.
“Ah it was glorious.” He held his hands up as though cupping Irakles’s face. “I could feel the rumblings of civil war...Stephanos wanted revenge...Irakles wanted revenge...They could gather their barons and the clash of bodies on Taengea would have been complete. Can you imagine the mortals? Their city burns and their swords strike each other with the verdant fields in the background?”
His voice had taken on a dreamy quality, as though he was speaking of a lover and not laying waste to the mortal realm and thousands of lives in the process. All at once he came back to himself. He turned and swiped his arm over the top of Hades’s desk. Papers flew. Ares all but screamed.
“And I come back to find them working together! Politicking!” White and blue flames leapt out of his eyes. Each paper close to him burst into flame. He could barely see for the dizzying rage.
He breathed in, closing his eyes. Underneath his eyelids the inferno blazed for another brief moment before he brought himself under control. With a swallow and an exhale, he opened his eyes again, smiling at Hades. “But I have a new focus. Have you seen Athenia? It’s a volcano, waiting to explode.”
Ares had always been annoyingly arrogant... as were many of his brethren actually. Thinking they were above the others be it God or mortal. Occasionally, Hades wondered if it had been a great thing for him to draw that short end of the stick. At least he wouldn't have to deal with Zeus's temper, Aphrodite's fits... any of that, really. In a way, the Underworld was his sanctuary, a place for him to escape all of the blithering, babbling fools he had the misfortune to call his relations. There was few he would be able to stand the presence of for more then a few moments.
Luckily, Ares was one of the few.
Raising his brows with disinterest when the younger God crowed about his abilities to do better over the interior design of his lair, Hades rolled his eyes, and chose to ignore the proud God's comment - if he had his way, Ares would claim he could do better at everything, from combat to embroidery, probably. Honestly, the elder God was not surprised.
His interest was piqued however, when Ares mentioned plans. Plans? Now plans, Hades had an interest in. After the recent influx of bodies from the Taengean massacre, the remaining souls which had came were of the same boring ilk again - illness, old age... the same old adage over and over again.
Life needed some spice, sometimes.
For the first time since Ares entered, life flickered in the usually deadened look of his onyx black irises. Interest that quickly turned to irritation when his nephew veered topics again. "Do you think a God of the Underworld prancing around in bright vermillion would be - " his words were cut off when a shower of silken chitons drowned him, leaving Hades spluttering and growling. Flicking his wrist, all four chitons burst into black flames, leaving behind wisps of smoke, and building irritation in to the glare of the old God. His nephew brought things too far sometimes, and Hades itched to send him to Tartarus for a week in chains, just to see if he managed to survive the burning hells with the Titans. Considering his seniority over Ares, he probably could - but Zeus wouldn't be happy, and Hades had too much on his plate to bother angering his brother.
So Hades settled for an irritated growl as Ares continued speaking, allowing the topic change. Straightening his black cloak, Hades smirked as Ares reminded him of the Taengean affair which had sent tens of souls... all with no coin for Charon. Leaving Erebus in a massive crawl of souls who had to wait for a millenia before they could cross. It created havoc in the Underworld, the kind he did not fancy... but he'll live. As long as death remained a sure thing in the Overworld. He could smell the oncoming death with Ares's meddling with the Taengean politics, the kind that send delightful sparks up his spine.
The smirk widened when his nephew lost his calm - he should've guessed. Rolling his eyes, Hades lazily waved an arm, the remaining papers which had remained unscathed from Ares's unbridled fury floating in the air and flying straight to land on a further dresser, away from the other's rage. Making a mental note for Orpheus to replaced the burnt and damaged ones, Hades clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Have some patience, dear nephew. I smell the blood on his hands... as do I on Stephanos's mind. You've managed to incite a bloodlust in both of them. The time shall come... and when it does, it will be glorious."
Interest flared again, dark irises turning to gaze with attention at Ares, the slow smile indicating that he was listening. "I have heard..." the slow drawl came, lazy but reverberating in the power the God held back. "King Minas is just within my grasp. As soon as Thanatos deems it time." Hades tilted his head back to take a deep breathe, as if he could smell the death rattle on the King's doorstep. "And when I take him... that's your cue, nephew." he paused, and then turned to pin a gaze on Ares. "This Elias of Stravos... I trust you have him well in hand?"
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Ares had always been annoyingly arrogant... as were many of his brethren actually. Thinking they were above the others be it God or mortal. Occasionally, Hades wondered if it had been a great thing for him to draw that short end of the stick. At least he wouldn't have to deal with Zeus's temper, Aphrodite's fits... any of that, really. In a way, the Underworld was his sanctuary, a place for him to escape all of the blithering, babbling fools he had the misfortune to call his relations. There was few he would be able to stand the presence of for more then a few moments.
Luckily, Ares was one of the few.
Raising his brows with disinterest when the younger God crowed about his abilities to do better over the interior design of his lair, Hades rolled his eyes, and chose to ignore the proud God's comment - if he had his way, Ares would claim he could do better at everything, from combat to embroidery, probably. Honestly, the elder God was not surprised.
His interest was piqued however, when Ares mentioned plans. Plans? Now plans, Hades had an interest in. After the recent influx of bodies from the Taengean massacre, the remaining souls which had came were of the same boring ilk again - illness, old age... the same old adage over and over again.
Life needed some spice, sometimes.
For the first time since Ares entered, life flickered in the usually deadened look of his onyx black irises. Interest that quickly turned to irritation when his nephew veered topics again. "Do you think a God of the Underworld prancing around in bright vermillion would be - " his words were cut off when a shower of silken chitons drowned him, leaving Hades spluttering and growling. Flicking his wrist, all four chitons burst into black flames, leaving behind wisps of smoke, and building irritation in to the glare of the old God. His nephew brought things too far sometimes, and Hades itched to send him to Tartarus for a week in chains, just to see if he managed to survive the burning hells with the Titans. Considering his seniority over Ares, he probably could - but Zeus wouldn't be happy, and Hades had too much on his plate to bother angering his brother.
So Hades settled for an irritated growl as Ares continued speaking, allowing the topic change. Straightening his black cloak, Hades smirked as Ares reminded him of the Taengean affair which had sent tens of souls... all with no coin for Charon. Leaving Erebus in a massive crawl of souls who had to wait for a millenia before they could cross. It created havoc in the Underworld, the kind he did not fancy... but he'll live. As long as death remained a sure thing in the Overworld. He could smell the oncoming death with Ares's meddling with the Taengean politics, the kind that send delightful sparks up his spine.
The smirk widened when his nephew lost his calm - he should've guessed. Rolling his eyes, Hades lazily waved an arm, the remaining papers which had remained unscathed from Ares's unbridled fury floating in the air and flying straight to land on a further dresser, away from the other's rage. Making a mental note for Orpheus to replaced the burnt and damaged ones, Hades clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Have some patience, dear nephew. I smell the blood on his hands... as do I on Stephanos's mind. You've managed to incite a bloodlust in both of them. The time shall come... and when it does, it will be glorious."
Interest flared again, dark irises turning to gaze with attention at Ares, the slow smile indicating that he was listening. "I have heard..." the slow drawl came, lazy but reverberating in the power the God held back. "King Minas is just within my grasp. As soon as Thanatos deems it time." Hades tilted his head back to take a deep breathe, as if he could smell the death rattle on the King's doorstep. "And when I take him... that's your cue, nephew." he paused, and then turned to pin a gaze on Ares. "This Elias of Stravos... I trust you have him well in hand?"
Ares had always been annoyingly arrogant... as were many of his brethren actually. Thinking they were above the others be it God or mortal. Occasionally, Hades wondered if it had been a great thing for him to draw that short end of the stick. At least he wouldn't have to deal with Zeus's temper, Aphrodite's fits... any of that, really. In a way, the Underworld was his sanctuary, a place for him to escape all of the blithering, babbling fools he had the misfortune to call his relations. There was few he would be able to stand the presence of for more then a few moments.
Luckily, Ares was one of the few.
Raising his brows with disinterest when the younger God crowed about his abilities to do better over the interior design of his lair, Hades rolled his eyes, and chose to ignore the proud God's comment - if he had his way, Ares would claim he could do better at everything, from combat to embroidery, probably. Honestly, the elder God was not surprised.
His interest was piqued however, when Ares mentioned plans. Plans? Now plans, Hades had an interest in. After the recent influx of bodies from the Taengean massacre, the remaining souls which had came were of the same boring ilk again - illness, old age... the same old adage over and over again.
Life needed some spice, sometimes.
For the first time since Ares entered, life flickered in the usually deadened look of his onyx black irises. Interest that quickly turned to irritation when his nephew veered topics again. "Do you think a God of the Underworld prancing around in bright vermillion would be - " his words were cut off when a shower of silken chitons drowned him, leaving Hades spluttering and growling. Flicking his wrist, all four chitons burst into black flames, leaving behind wisps of smoke, and building irritation in to the glare of the old God. His nephew brought things too far sometimes, and Hades itched to send him to Tartarus for a week in chains, just to see if he managed to survive the burning hells with the Titans. Considering his seniority over Ares, he probably could - but Zeus wouldn't be happy, and Hades had too much on his plate to bother angering his brother.
So Hades settled for an irritated growl as Ares continued speaking, allowing the topic change. Straightening his black cloak, Hades smirked as Ares reminded him of the Taengean affair which had sent tens of souls... all with no coin for Charon. Leaving Erebus in a massive crawl of souls who had to wait for a millenia before they could cross. It created havoc in the Underworld, the kind he did not fancy... but he'll live. As long as death remained a sure thing in the Overworld. He could smell the oncoming death with Ares's meddling with the Taengean politics, the kind that send delightful sparks up his spine.
The smirk widened when his nephew lost his calm - he should've guessed. Rolling his eyes, Hades lazily waved an arm, the remaining papers which had remained unscathed from Ares's unbridled fury floating in the air and flying straight to land on a further dresser, away from the other's rage. Making a mental note for Orpheus to replaced the burnt and damaged ones, Hades clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Have some patience, dear nephew. I smell the blood on his hands... as do I on Stephanos's mind. You've managed to incite a bloodlust in both of them. The time shall come... and when it does, it will be glorious."
Interest flared again, dark irises turning to gaze with attention at Ares, the slow smile indicating that he was listening. "I have heard..." the slow drawl came, lazy but reverberating in the power the God held back. "King Minas is just within my grasp. As soon as Thanatos deems it time." Hades tilted his head back to take a deep breathe, as if he could smell the death rattle on the King's doorstep. "And when I take him... that's your cue, nephew." he paused, and then turned to pin a gaze on Ares. "This Elias of Stravos... I trust you have him well in hand?"
“He has the will,” Ares smirked. “And the ability, when pointed in the right direction.” He looked Hades over before moving passed him to the kline and dropping down onto it. With a little shifting, he made himself comfortable and pillowed his head with his hands. His legs were crossed at the ankles, giving him the very picture of arrogant ease.
“Aphrodite has this notion that Elias and Persephone will be together and in love. It’s an adorable dream. But Elias doesn’t have it in him to be what our dear goddess wants. That’s why he’s interesting to me.” Glancing around the dark room, he made a face and then snapped his fingers. Tall braziers with bronze bowls of fire shimmered into existence. The cave like room glowed faintly red and with the pulsing of the water in the distance, it almost felt like they were sitting inside of a beating heart.
“It would be more interesting if Aphrodite didn’t have her way. I don’t want peace in that kingdom. I want blood. Persephone will not give that to me but Elias would. And I know blood interests you if souls were to follow…” he let the sentence hang, attempting to bait the other god into real interest in the events. Sitting forward again, he sized Hades up. “I’m thinking of heading into the mortal world again soon. What say you come with me? I think we can find some interesting ways to get what we want.”
Hades had been to the mortal world before, as had he. But it had been such a long time for his uncle that he wasn’t sure the older god would do it. As for himself, he traveled frequently but not enough to create some sort of life, like Aphrodite had. Instead he’d been lolling about, playing the soldier whenever it suited him.
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“He has the will,” Ares smirked. “And the ability, when pointed in the right direction.” He looked Hades over before moving passed him to the kline and dropping down onto it. With a little shifting, he made himself comfortable and pillowed his head with his hands. His legs were crossed at the ankles, giving him the very picture of arrogant ease.
“Aphrodite has this notion that Elias and Persephone will be together and in love. It’s an adorable dream. But Elias doesn’t have it in him to be what our dear goddess wants. That’s why he’s interesting to me.” Glancing around the dark room, he made a face and then snapped his fingers. Tall braziers with bronze bowls of fire shimmered into existence. The cave like room glowed faintly red and with the pulsing of the water in the distance, it almost felt like they were sitting inside of a beating heart.
“It would be more interesting if Aphrodite didn’t have her way. I don’t want peace in that kingdom. I want blood. Persephone will not give that to me but Elias would. And I know blood interests you if souls were to follow…” he let the sentence hang, attempting to bait the other god into real interest in the events. Sitting forward again, he sized Hades up. “I’m thinking of heading into the mortal world again soon. What say you come with me? I think we can find some interesting ways to get what we want.”
Hades had been to the mortal world before, as had he. But it had been such a long time for his uncle that he wasn’t sure the older god would do it. As for himself, he traveled frequently but not enough to create some sort of life, like Aphrodite had. Instead he’d been lolling about, playing the soldier whenever it suited him.
“He has the will,” Ares smirked. “And the ability, when pointed in the right direction.” He looked Hades over before moving passed him to the kline and dropping down onto it. With a little shifting, he made himself comfortable and pillowed his head with his hands. His legs were crossed at the ankles, giving him the very picture of arrogant ease.
“Aphrodite has this notion that Elias and Persephone will be together and in love. It’s an adorable dream. But Elias doesn’t have it in him to be what our dear goddess wants. That’s why he’s interesting to me.” Glancing around the dark room, he made a face and then snapped his fingers. Tall braziers with bronze bowls of fire shimmered into existence. The cave like room glowed faintly red and with the pulsing of the water in the distance, it almost felt like they were sitting inside of a beating heart.
“It would be more interesting if Aphrodite didn’t have her way. I don’t want peace in that kingdom. I want blood. Persephone will not give that to me but Elias would. And I know blood interests you if souls were to follow…” he let the sentence hang, attempting to bait the other god into real interest in the events. Sitting forward again, he sized Hades up. “I’m thinking of heading into the mortal world again soon. What say you come with me? I think we can find some interesting ways to get what we want.”
Hades had been to the mortal world before, as had he. But it had been such a long time for his uncle that he wasn’t sure the older god would do it. As for himself, he traveled frequently but not enough to create some sort of life, like Aphrodite had. Instead he’d been lolling about, playing the soldier whenever it suited him.
The dark irises of the God of Souls followed Ares's path as his nephew dropped on to the silken kline situated in a corner of his chambers, barely resisting rolling his eyes when he saw the arrogant way in the God of War's movements and position. Instead, Hades chose to focus on the other god's words, raising a wry brow when Aphrodite's plans were revealed to him.
Giving a dry, humorless scoff, he turned to perch on his now emptied desk, hips on the smooth ebony surface. "She's a hopeful one." he murmured, flickering his gaze to the new bowls of fire that Ares had brought to is room. Making a mental note to ask Orpeus to dispose of the extra lighting that Hades had no taste for, he found himself growing tired of this push and pull between the arrogant god and himself. Better to let Ares do whatever he wanted, and he would ask his minions to clean up the mess the younger god left at a later hour.
Scoffing, he crossed his arms in front of him. "If Aphrodite had her way, there would be a marriage every hour." It was obvious from the way his lips curled at the image that Hades did not enjoy such an outcome at all. While him and Ares both wanted different things, they overlapped in certain aspects, and that was what Hades usually banked on when it came to discussing plans with his nephew. He had his point after all - with Elias in place after Thanatos had taken Minas to his domain, he would not have to constantly seek out the souls he wanted to fill his halls.
"The mortal realm?" Hades echoed. For once, a mild interest burned like an ember behind his darkened orbs. Should he? Hades had been there, but he has stopped for a long time. Finding it troublesome and irksome to deal with mortals, especially to those who shied away from he and his worshippers, he preferred to stay in the familiar grounds of his Underworld. Unlike Aphrodite who enjoyed the people, Hades was naturally introverted.
Yet when the benefits outweighed the cost... well, why not?
He smiled, and gave a nod. "Let's go then. These mortals have been at peace for too long afterall." Two mortal humans popped in his head, and his smile turned vengeful, almost as if he wanted to extract a pint of blood in return. "I have people to visit, after all. Dues that I need to claim."
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The dark irises of the God of Souls followed Ares's path as his nephew dropped on to the silken kline situated in a corner of his chambers, barely resisting rolling his eyes when he saw the arrogant way in the God of War's movements and position. Instead, Hades chose to focus on the other god's words, raising a wry brow when Aphrodite's plans were revealed to him.
Giving a dry, humorless scoff, he turned to perch on his now emptied desk, hips on the smooth ebony surface. "She's a hopeful one." he murmured, flickering his gaze to the new bowls of fire that Ares had brought to is room. Making a mental note to ask Orpeus to dispose of the extra lighting that Hades had no taste for, he found himself growing tired of this push and pull between the arrogant god and himself. Better to let Ares do whatever he wanted, and he would ask his minions to clean up the mess the younger god left at a later hour.
Scoffing, he crossed his arms in front of him. "If Aphrodite had her way, there would be a marriage every hour." It was obvious from the way his lips curled at the image that Hades did not enjoy such an outcome at all. While him and Ares both wanted different things, they overlapped in certain aspects, and that was what Hades usually banked on when it came to discussing plans with his nephew. He had his point after all - with Elias in place after Thanatos had taken Minas to his domain, he would not have to constantly seek out the souls he wanted to fill his halls.
"The mortal realm?" Hades echoed. For once, a mild interest burned like an ember behind his darkened orbs. Should he? Hades had been there, but he has stopped for a long time. Finding it troublesome and irksome to deal with mortals, especially to those who shied away from he and his worshippers, he preferred to stay in the familiar grounds of his Underworld. Unlike Aphrodite who enjoyed the people, Hades was naturally introverted.
Yet when the benefits outweighed the cost... well, why not?
He smiled, and gave a nod. "Let's go then. These mortals have been at peace for too long afterall." Two mortal humans popped in his head, and his smile turned vengeful, almost as if he wanted to extract a pint of blood in return. "I have people to visit, after all. Dues that I need to claim."
The dark irises of the God of Souls followed Ares's path as his nephew dropped on to the silken kline situated in a corner of his chambers, barely resisting rolling his eyes when he saw the arrogant way in the God of War's movements and position. Instead, Hades chose to focus on the other god's words, raising a wry brow when Aphrodite's plans were revealed to him.
Giving a dry, humorless scoff, he turned to perch on his now emptied desk, hips on the smooth ebony surface. "She's a hopeful one." he murmured, flickering his gaze to the new bowls of fire that Ares had brought to is room. Making a mental note to ask Orpeus to dispose of the extra lighting that Hades had no taste for, he found himself growing tired of this push and pull between the arrogant god and himself. Better to let Ares do whatever he wanted, and he would ask his minions to clean up the mess the younger god left at a later hour.
Scoffing, he crossed his arms in front of him. "If Aphrodite had her way, there would be a marriage every hour." It was obvious from the way his lips curled at the image that Hades did not enjoy such an outcome at all. While him and Ares both wanted different things, they overlapped in certain aspects, and that was what Hades usually banked on when it came to discussing plans with his nephew. He had his point after all - with Elias in place after Thanatos had taken Minas to his domain, he would not have to constantly seek out the souls he wanted to fill his halls.
"The mortal realm?" Hades echoed. For once, a mild interest burned like an ember behind his darkened orbs. Should he? Hades had been there, but he has stopped for a long time. Finding it troublesome and irksome to deal with mortals, especially to those who shied away from he and his worshippers, he preferred to stay in the familiar grounds of his Underworld. Unlike Aphrodite who enjoyed the people, Hades was naturally introverted.
Yet when the benefits outweighed the cost... well, why not?
He smiled, and gave a nod. "Let's go then. These mortals have been at peace for too long afterall." Two mortal humans popped in his head, and his smile turned vengeful, almost as if he wanted to extract a pint of blood in return. "I have people to visit, after all. Dues that I need to claim."
