(no subject)
Moros retreated to a dark niche of the island with his absinthe. He didn't like parties, too much drama going on. Usually the Olympians held first place for soap-opera type antics at social gatherings, but this one was definitely catching them up. There was the spectacular way in which his nephew had unglued Peitho - sending her home crying from a party before it really began. If Morpheus wasn't such an annoyingly cocky little bastard, he would have been almost proud to call him family. Then there his brother, Death, getting moon-eyed over his Egyptian counterpart. It was not surprising to Dark Fate, but Thanatos had fallen fast and hard, particularly so for someone so interested in matters of the mind more than matters of the heart.
Then there was Styx's behaviour. She had checked him once and caught his glare, but possibly misunderstood it. It was to be expected that she would show up with Panic, that she would have a good time at the party with him. He still hated the little prick, but not for attending. Panic was Olympian, and all Olympians were doomed to be hated by Doom.
What had really caused the small jolt of anger he had felt was the way they had acted. Styx pushed buttons, and sometimes, she pushed the wrong ones. This was his mother's party, a fine gathering that she had put effort into. Even though he didn't enjoy socialising, he respected that, and he respected his Nyx. Gyrating on the dancefloor with your lapdog didn't seem to scream respect, and neither did sneaking off to another country for a quick shag mid-party. He would have to discuss that with Styx.
And that was not all he had to talk about with his dear sister. He had spoken with her, told her things he hadn't wished to divulge. But he had, and she had sat, listened and stored his responses away, before flouncing off to preen her moronic, Olympian darling. He had gained nothing from the interaction. That was something he needed to balance out, and soon.
Wires broke and screams fell on the ears of anyone close to Egypt's principle river. As the boat sank down into the filthy Nile waters, Moros glanced at Lachesis' beau. Styx had discussed him with that one, he knew. He would always know what she said, regardless of her little fields of silence.
Anteros, like his nephew, was cocky. Perhaps a visit from Doom would make him at least try to think of consequences before attempting that jumbled mess of noise the Vindictive one called speech. Yes. He had it coming.
But Styx was first.
Then there was Styx's behaviour. She had checked him once and caught his glare, but possibly misunderstood it. It was to be expected that she would show up with Panic, that she would have a good time at the party with him. He still hated the little prick, but not for attending. Panic was Olympian, and all Olympians were doomed to be hated by Doom.
What had really caused the small jolt of anger he had felt was the way they had acted. Styx pushed buttons, and sometimes, she pushed the wrong ones. This was his mother's party, a fine gathering that she had put effort into. Even though he didn't enjoy socialising, he respected that, and he respected his Nyx. Gyrating on the dancefloor with your lapdog didn't seem to scream respect, and neither did sneaking off to another country for a quick shag mid-party. He would have to discuss that with Styx.
And that was not all he had to talk about with his dear sister. He had spoken with her, told her things he hadn't wished to divulge. But he had, and she had sat, listened and stored his responses away, before flouncing off to preen her moronic, Olympian darling. He had gained nothing from the interaction. That was something he needed to balance out, and soon.
Wires broke and screams fell on the ears of anyone close to Egypt's principle river. As the boat sank down into the filthy Nile waters, Moros glanced at Lachesis' beau. Styx had discussed him with that one, he knew. He would always know what she said, regardless of her little fields of silence.
Anteros, like his nephew, was cocky. Perhaps a visit from Doom would make him at least try to think of consequences before attempting that jumbled mess of noise the Vindictive one called speech. Yes. He had it coming.
But Styx was first.