app~
Character Name: Ganymede
Series: Olympos
Character Age: He looks around 16, but who knows how long Apollo's had him holed up in that garden.
Canon: Lots of people have an interest in the Ancient Greek myths - and who wouldn't, what with the sheer amount of sex and angst that's involved. Offering a new take on the great godly soap opera is Olympos, which opens with a young man, Heinz, praying to God. As it turns out for Heinz, when God turns up as a pretty young man, kisses you on the mouth, and offers to grant your wish in return for a tiny favor, it might be more of a foolish move than you expected. Especially when that small favor involves moving an immovable object. That immovable object is also known as Ganymede.
Olympos could be seen, really, as an exercise in kicking a man when he's down. Ganymede, Prince of Troy, has been imprisoned in Apollo's miniature garden for thousands of years. Understandably, he's a little depressed about it. He clings tightly to his nobility and what remains of his dignity, looking down on Heinz as being "ordinary", and is insufferably frank -- it doesn't matter if it's someone's most fervent hopes and dreams, if he thinks that they're boring, he will tell them so. Regarding his predicament, meanwhile, he maintains that there is no hope left for him -- and he doesn't like to be bothered about it. In fact, being told to hope for the future annoys him to the point that he will cut off his own arm to prevent having to think about it. Yet, underneath that facade, he still wants to believe that someday he will be lucky, that he will be freed. Unfortunately for him, that day just hasn't come around yet, and doesn't seem to be coming by any time soon. Alas.
Sample Post:
Do you know something about hope? It's meant to be the one thing that keeps you from going mad . . . but it's like the single drop of water on a thirsty man's face. It's the thing that makes you lose your mind. And because of that . . . I shouldn't think it. I know I'll be disappointed, but . . . I think it's finally happened. I think I've finally been let go.
When I got here, I couldn't believe it. I thought it was more likely that this place wasn't really here . . . that it was just one of that bastard Apollo's tricks. I thought that maybe he just wanted me to think I was free, to see my face when I realized it was all a lie. I was so determined not to fall for it -- which is why I was so surprised when I started to think it was actually real after all. I mean, the swamp didn't tell me anything one way or another, since I'm sure he'd find it hilarious to see me get stuck in mud and look like an idiot . . . uhm. Not that something like that just happened, or anything. I was wandering without hoping at all . . . just like I've been doing for all those years. But now I've met you, I definitely know I'm right. This place surely has to be real. Maybe . . . maybe I've been lucky after all, finally. Maybe I'm free.
Do you want to know how I know? It's because you're the first person I've met since I came here. It's simple: you're really ugly. You see . . . I know I'm the stranger here, but where I come from people don't really wear their insides on their outsides, unless they're really unlucky. But . . . don't feel too bad! The toes on your right foot seem to be very well formed, at least. Anyway, with you being this ugly, it definitely means that this place isn't something made up by Apollo. He only likes beautiful things. I'm sick of it. When everything's beautiful, you can't tell what to appreciate anymore . . . so, in that sense, I'm really grateful to you. All of you. Everything here. The gorillas in the dresses, the odd looking birds, the grabby monster . . . the fetid stink. You and all your friends, as well, as ridiculous sounding as you are, demanding brains all the time. It's all so mundane, it all smells so bad, it's so disgusting ... and I love it. Thank you, for just existing!
With that said . . . now, I'm leaving. I've been away from the world so long . . . there has to be better places than this. Ah, it's good to be excited about something again! I'll find the cities, see real people, maybe I can even go home . . . -- why are you sniggering like that? It's going to happen. I wouldn't stay here for even a second longer than I had to. Why would I?
. . . that isn't funny. Of course there's an exit.
In at 94.5%.
Series: Olympos
Character Age: He looks around 16, but who knows how long Apollo's had him holed up in that garden.
Canon: Lots of people have an interest in the Ancient Greek myths - and who wouldn't, what with the sheer amount of sex and angst that's involved. Offering a new take on the great godly soap opera is Olympos, which opens with a young man, Heinz, praying to God. As it turns out for Heinz, when God turns up as a pretty young man, kisses you on the mouth, and offers to grant your wish in return for a tiny favor, it might be more of a foolish move than you expected. Especially when that small favor involves moving an immovable object. That immovable object is also known as Ganymede.
Olympos could be seen, really, as an exercise in kicking a man when he's down. Ganymede, Prince of Troy, has been imprisoned in Apollo's miniature garden for thousands of years. Understandably, he's a little depressed about it. He clings tightly to his nobility and what remains of his dignity, looking down on Heinz as being "ordinary", and is insufferably frank -- it doesn't matter if it's someone's most fervent hopes and dreams, if he thinks that they're boring, he will tell them so. Regarding his predicament, meanwhile, he maintains that there is no hope left for him -- and he doesn't like to be bothered about it. In fact, being told to hope for the future annoys him to the point that he will cut off his own arm to prevent having to think about it. Yet, underneath that facade, he still wants to believe that someday he will be lucky, that he will be freed. Unfortunately for him, that day just hasn't come around yet, and doesn't seem to be coming by any time soon. Alas.
Sample Post:
Do you know something about hope? It's meant to be the one thing that keeps you from going mad . . . but it's like the single drop of water on a thirsty man's face. It's the thing that makes you lose your mind. And because of that . . . I shouldn't think it. I know I'll be disappointed, but . . . I think it's finally happened. I think I've finally been let go.
When I got here, I couldn't believe it. I thought it was more likely that this place wasn't really here . . . that it was just one of that bastard Apollo's tricks. I thought that maybe he just wanted me to think I was free, to see my face when I realized it was all a lie. I was so determined not to fall for it -- which is why I was so surprised when I started to think it was actually real after all. I mean, the swamp didn't tell me anything one way or another, since I'm sure he'd find it hilarious to see me get stuck in mud and look like an idiot . . . uhm. Not that something like that just happened, or anything. I was wandering without hoping at all . . . just like I've been doing for all those years. But now I've met you, I definitely know I'm right. This place surely has to be real. Maybe . . . maybe I've been lucky after all, finally. Maybe I'm free.
Do you want to know how I know? It's because you're the first person I've met since I came here. It's simple: you're really ugly. You see . . . I know I'm the stranger here, but where I come from people don't really wear their insides on their outsides, unless they're really unlucky. But . . . don't feel too bad! The toes on your right foot seem to be very well formed, at least. Anyway, with you being this ugly, it definitely means that this place isn't something made up by Apollo. He only likes beautiful things. I'm sick of it. When everything's beautiful, you can't tell what to appreciate anymore . . . so, in that sense, I'm really grateful to you. All of you. Everything here. The gorillas in the dresses, the odd looking birds, the grabby monster . . . the fetid stink. You and all your friends, as well, as ridiculous sounding as you are, demanding brains all the time. It's all so mundane, it all smells so bad, it's so disgusting ... and I love it. Thank you, for just existing!
With that said . . . now, I'm leaving. I've been away from the world so long . . . there has to be better places than this. Ah, it's good to be excited about something again! I'll find the cities, see real people, maybe I can even go home . . . -- why are you sniggering like that? It's going to happen. I wouldn't stay here for even a second longer than I had to. Why would I?
. . . that isn't funny. Of course there's an exit.
In at 94.5%.