Foetal Stage
Last day of the holiday. :( But it's still wonderful spring-like weather, so I'm pretty happy.
I've been writing all morning, for different things, most of them schoolwork and artistic competitions. I did get some fic done though.
Title: Foetal Stage (Dreamworld, chapter 3)
100moods prompt: 52. Indescribable (My table)
Rating: PG
Chapter summary: Hades and Hypnos meet. It's time for a name.
Chapter 1 (Conception) and Chapter 2 (Embryonic Stage)
Chapter three: Foetal Stage
The thing about gods is that their belief in their own omnipotence is blinding. Zeus is truly the master of the universe, with enough power to change everything, to destroy everything, to preserve everything. It’s his indulgence in human-like pleasures that cripple him. The gods up on Olympos have not been shaped to dislike or love one another - they are pure essence of being, with only purpose: fulfilling their duty. They have infinite choice though, and they chose to be the way they are. They chose to be less than what they could have been. Or was it decided for them as well, ultimately? The fact remains that they refuse to see their own short-comings. They play with the humans, infuse them with insanity or hatred or lust or a short-lived winning streak and laugh themselves silly before meeting the exact same fate.
The humans below look to their gods for guidance, but instead find only fickle favouritism. Man expects his gods to be better than their creations, but is often severely let down. Even the gods fall into the traps of excess, cruelty and inherent humanity. This great lapsus in the nature of deity has led humans to theorise that it is humans who created gods instead of the other way around. Humans try to create something bigger than themselves only to find that no such thing is possible. Humanity is already at its biggest. “In the faults of humanity its strength lies.” Who will tell?
Other than what he thinks, Zeus doesn’t control everyone on earth and on Olympos.
- - -
Hermes finds Hypnos between sleep and waking, which is how one usually finds Hypnos. The old god never truly sleeps, ironically. Instead he spends his eternal days growing continually older, dreaming dreams infused with reality. He has a constant, but not very watchful eyes on his children. He mostly thinks about Nyx and wills her dark night to come and cover him. She refuses, though. Maybe she’s ashamed of her double relationship to him: mother and lover both. In the absence of sun and the absence of night, Hypnos gets caught in a strange web of unnatural darkness that clings to the walls of his palace-cave and his face, his limbs, his old heart. It binds him down.
He is eternally tired.
The Olympic gods try to leave Hypnos alone for the most part. They’re not directly related to him and he hails from a different time, a time in which Olympos hadn’t yet begun to grow and there were creatures that are now caught in the earth’s core (and sometimes try to escape through the mountains of fire). Zeus and his siblings hadn’t been born yet, the world was one heap of debris ruled by giants and the measure of life was death. One thing that hasn’t changed, perhaps. However the case, Hypnos is rarely seen outside of his dark dwelling. It’s said he comes out on starless nights to gaze at his wife without her seeing him, but no one has ever actually seen this happen. Nyx, untouchable unreachable woman is indifferent to his devotion - despite the fact that they work together closely in a way.
Hermes feels closest to Hypnos of all Olympic gods. This is because of one silly detail: they both carry wings in places that shouldn’t have wings - Hermes’ feet, Hypnos’ head. Hermes wishes he could ask Hypnos if he ever goes out to fly on moonless evenings to try and reach Nyx’s heart, but he dares not. However sluggish and ancient the god of sleep may seem, Hermes knows what torture sleep or the lack of it can bring.
As it is, he’s been sent by Hades. This makes him uncomfortable in many ways, most of which relate to the troubled ways that link sleep to death. He is most afraid that he will make a fatal mistake in Hypnos’ dim cave and mistake his twin half-brother Thanatos for the old sleeper. Thanatos is more concisely described than Hypnos: he brings swift death for all those who look upon him. And unlike many other deities, he has little patience for the excuse and imaginary protection of immortality. Hermes has tried, and failed, to understand the complicated relationship Hades has to Thanatos - both masters of death, but ready to kill each other as soon as setting eyes on one another. Hermes has yet to figure out whether death is a sign of animosity amongst death lords or a sign of respect. It confuses him to no extent to imagine Hades as one of the souls he reigns over. These morbid thoughts only enter him as he guides the dead to Charon’s boat or if he has other dark errands to run, like this one. In the sun up on Olympos he feels nothing short of untouchable by death.
The fact that Hypnos is in his bed makes him more easy to set apart from his twin, who would be brooding in a dark corner of the cave. Feeling relief too intense to describe, Hermes approaches the dark bed of feathers and the still, scarcely breathing form of the sleep lord.
“Hypnos,” he speaks, trying to make his voice sound stable. The god doesn’t stir.
“Hypnos, Hades sends me,” Hermes says loud and clear. Deeper down the cave, he hears the shuffle of a body moving and suppose Thanatos is watching him from the shadows. Suppressing the powerful urge to turn around and run, Hermes leans a little closer to Hypnos’ slumbering form and repeats: “Hades sends me.”
With a jolt, the old god is awake and on his feet. For a moment, his eyes shine crazily in the gloom, but then Hermes can see fatigue already slipping back in and the eyelids start to droop again.
“Hades,” Hypnos rumbles in a voice cracked by disuse. It’s not a question, more like an unbelieving statement.
“Yes. He wants to see you. He said you don’t need to cross Styx - he will. He wants to talk on the banks.”
A great sigh escapes the weary god. “Good. I hate Styx. Tell him… I’ll come. But I need to do something first.”
Eager to get away, Hermes agrees and rushes off.
- - -
Crossing Styx makes even the lord of the underworld uncomfortable. The water, indifferent to who is in the boat, tries to make the boatman lose control. It has never succeeded, but to those being ferried it always seems as if it will this time. Dark and full of desire of dark things, the water pulls at the boat.
“Be careful, Charon,” Hades commands. Charon is smiling.
On the other side, Hermes is waiting with a new batch of souls, newly dead and still crying at the loss of warmth and feeling. The winged messenger is pale like his dead companions, and Hades guesses that has a lot to do with Hypnos standing next to him, giant compared to the small, lithe Hermes, spreading something dark in the air that is not like anything found in Dis. His eyes are closed, but his body is tense and Hades knows he’s listening intently.
The boat bumps the bank of Styx gently and Hades gathers himself. He stands aside to allow the new arrivals to take their places and pay Charon his fee. All of them are crying and trying to touch him. He shrinks away from their ghostly hands, even though they have no power to touch him anymore, and doesn’t say anything to them.
Charon and Hermes take off. Hades is suddenly alone on the black sand with Hypnos.
“Speak, Hades,” Hypnos says, opening one eye.
“Something has happened to Morpheus,” Hades replies immediately.
Hypnos is silent, then says: “That’s not true. I would have felt it.”
“I haven’t been dreaming for five nights now. Persephone sent message from above that the animals are running around all night and day. Up on the land the humans are endlessly sacrificing to restore their sleep to them. They’ve started sacrificing their newborns. They think they’ve angered you.”
“I would have felt it,” Hypnos re-states.
“Hypnos,” Hades says and lets the name fall like a coin into a wishing well. The old god opens his eyes and looks at the death lord. “I think your son has woken up.”
There’s a silence in which the panic inside Hypnos’ brain grows. “But it can’t be; I haven’t felt it.”
“Something has happened and I think that’s it.”
“I’ve still been dreaming,” Hypnos says. “If I’m still dreaming, that means Morpheus is still asleep.”
“No one is dreaming.”
Hypnos shakes his big head. “It’s something else, Hades. Why don’t you go see what’s happened? This is your kingdom. You know I don’t have the power to enter here.”
“I don’t have the power to enter there either, Hypnos. The poppies would kill me instantly.”
Hypnos’ eyes are falling shut again. “What do I do?”
“Talk to Nyx.”
The wail that leaves the old sleep god’s mouth makes all of Dis tremble.
- - -
It’s time for a name, she’s decided. She’s been a faceless, nameless wisp of smoke for too long.
Around her her brothers and sisters are running around haphazardly, aimlessly. The gates have been shut, though no one knows why. She thinks she might know though.
Morpheus is still sleeping but he’s started to move. The poppies have started to wilt. No one knows what to do.
Time for a name.
Orienta.
I've been writing all morning, for different things, most of them schoolwork and artistic competitions. I did get some fic done though.
Title: Foetal Stage (Dreamworld, chapter 3)
100moods prompt: 52. Indescribable (My table)
Rating: PG
Chapter summary: Hades and Hypnos meet. It's time for a name.
Chapter 1 (Conception) and Chapter 2 (Embryonic Stage)
Chapter three: Foetal Stage
The thing about gods is that their belief in their own omnipotence is blinding. Zeus is truly the master of the universe, with enough power to change everything, to destroy everything, to preserve everything. It’s his indulgence in human-like pleasures that cripple him. The gods up on Olympos have not been shaped to dislike or love one another - they are pure essence of being, with only purpose: fulfilling their duty. They have infinite choice though, and they chose to be the way they are. They chose to be less than what they could have been. Or was it decided for them as well, ultimately? The fact remains that they refuse to see their own short-comings. They play with the humans, infuse them with insanity or hatred or lust or a short-lived winning streak and laugh themselves silly before meeting the exact same fate.
The humans below look to their gods for guidance, but instead find only fickle favouritism. Man expects his gods to be better than their creations, but is often severely let down. Even the gods fall into the traps of excess, cruelty and inherent humanity. This great lapsus in the nature of deity has led humans to theorise that it is humans who created gods instead of the other way around. Humans try to create something bigger than themselves only to find that no such thing is possible. Humanity is already at its biggest. “In the faults of humanity its strength lies.” Who will tell?
Other than what he thinks, Zeus doesn’t control everyone on earth and on Olympos.
- - -
Hermes finds Hypnos between sleep and waking, which is how one usually finds Hypnos. The old god never truly sleeps, ironically. Instead he spends his eternal days growing continually older, dreaming dreams infused with reality. He has a constant, but not very watchful eyes on his children. He mostly thinks about Nyx and wills her dark night to come and cover him. She refuses, though. Maybe she’s ashamed of her double relationship to him: mother and lover both. In the absence of sun and the absence of night, Hypnos gets caught in a strange web of unnatural darkness that clings to the walls of his palace-cave and his face, his limbs, his old heart. It binds him down.
He is eternally tired.
The Olympic gods try to leave Hypnos alone for the most part. They’re not directly related to him and he hails from a different time, a time in which Olympos hadn’t yet begun to grow and there were creatures that are now caught in the earth’s core (and sometimes try to escape through the mountains of fire). Zeus and his siblings hadn’t been born yet, the world was one heap of debris ruled by giants and the measure of life was death. One thing that hasn’t changed, perhaps. However the case, Hypnos is rarely seen outside of his dark dwelling. It’s said he comes out on starless nights to gaze at his wife without her seeing him, but no one has ever actually seen this happen. Nyx, untouchable unreachable woman is indifferent to his devotion - despite the fact that they work together closely in a way.
Hermes feels closest to Hypnos of all Olympic gods. This is because of one silly detail: they both carry wings in places that shouldn’t have wings - Hermes’ feet, Hypnos’ head. Hermes wishes he could ask Hypnos if he ever goes out to fly on moonless evenings to try and reach Nyx’s heart, but he dares not. However sluggish and ancient the god of sleep may seem, Hermes knows what torture sleep or the lack of it can bring.
As it is, he’s been sent by Hades. This makes him uncomfortable in many ways, most of which relate to the troubled ways that link sleep to death. He is most afraid that he will make a fatal mistake in Hypnos’ dim cave and mistake his twin half-brother Thanatos for the old sleeper. Thanatos is more concisely described than Hypnos: he brings swift death for all those who look upon him. And unlike many other deities, he has little patience for the excuse and imaginary protection of immortality. Hermes has tried, and failed, to understand the complicated relationship Hades has to Thanatos - both masters of death, but ready to kill each other as soon as setting eyes on one another. Hermes has yet to figure out whether death is a sign of animosity amongst death lords or a sign of respect. It confuses him to no extent to imagine Hades as one of the souls he reigns over. These morbid thoughts only enter him as he guides the dead to Charon’s boat or if he has other dark errands to run, like this one. In the sun up on Olympos he feels nothing short of untouchable by death.
The fact that Hypnos is in his bed makes him more easy to set apart from his twin, who would be brooding in a dark corner of the cave. Feeling relief too intense to describe, Hermes approaches the dark bed of feathers and the still, scarcely breathing form of the sleep lord.
“Hypnos,” he speaks, trying to make his voice sound stable. The god doesn’t stir.
“Hypnos, Hades sends me,” Hermes says loud and clear. Deeper down the cave, he hears the shuffle of a body moving and suppose Thanatos is watching him from the shadows. Suppressing the powerful urge to turn around and run, Hermes leans a little closer to Hypnos’ slumbering form and repeats: “Hades sends me.”
With a jolt, the old god is awake and on his feet. For a moment, his eyes shine crazily in the gloom, but then Hermes can see fatigue already slipping back in and the eyelids start to droop again.
“Hades,” Hypnos rumbles in a voice cracked by disuse. It’s not a question, more like an unbelieving statement.
“Yes. He wants to see you. He said you don’t need to cross Styx - he will. He wants to talk on the banks.”
A great sigh escapes the weary god. “Good. I hate Styx. Tell him… I’ll come. But I need to do something first.”
Eager to get away, Hermes agrees and rushes off.
- - -
Crossing Styx makes even the lord of the underworld uncomfortable. The water, indifferent to who is in the boat, tries to make the boatman lose control. It has never succeeded, but to those being ferried it always seems as if it will this time. Dark and full of desire of dark things, the water pulls at the boat.
“Be careful, Charon,” Hades commands. Charon is smiling.
On the other side, Hermes is waiting with a new batch of souls, newly dead and still crying at the loss of warmth and feeling. The winged messenger is pale like his dead companions, and Hades guesses that has a lot to do with Hypnos standing next to him, giant compared to the small, lithe Hermes, spreading something dark in the air that is not like anything found in Dis. His eyes are closed, but his body is tense and Hades knows he’s listening intently.
The boat bumps the bank of Styx gently and Hades gathers himself. He stands aside to allow the new arrivals to take their places and pay Charon his fee. All of them are crying and trying to touch him. He shrinks away from their ghostly hands, even though they have no power to touch him anymore, and doesn’t say anything to them.
Charon and Hermes take off. Hades is suddenly alone on the black sand with Hypnos.
“Speak, Hades,” Hypnos says, opening one eye.
“Something has happened to Morpheus,” Hades replies immediately.
Hypnos is silent, then says: “That’s not true. I would have felt it.”
“I haven’t been dreaming for five nights now. Persephone sent message from above that the animals are running around all night and day. Up on the land the humans are endlessly sacrificing to restore their sleep to them. They’ve started sacrificing their newborns. They think they’ve angered you.”
“I would have felt it,” Hypnos re-states.
“Hypnos,” Hades says and lets the name fall like a coin into a wishing well. The old god opens his eyes and looks at the death lord. “I think your son has woken up.”
There’s a silence in which the panic inside Hypnos’ brain grows. “But it can’t be; I haven’t felt it.”
“Something has happened and I think that’s it.”
“I’ve still been dreaming,” Hypnos says. “If I’m still dreaming, that means Morpheus is still asleep.”
“No one is dreaming.”
Hypnos shakes his big head. “It’s something else, Hades. Why don’t you go see what’s happened? This is your kingdom. You know I don’t have the power to enter here.”
“I don’t have the power to enter there either, Hypnos. The poppies would kill me instantly.”
Hypnos’ eyes are falling shut again. “What do I do?”
“Talk to Nyx.”
The wail that leaves the old sleep god’s mouth makes all of Dis tremble.
- - -
It’s time for a name, she’s decided. She’s been a faceless, nameless wisp of smoke for too long.
Around her her brothers and sisters are running around haphazardly, aimlessly. The gates have been shut, though no one knows why. She thinks she might know though.
Morpheus is still sleeping but he’s started to move. The poppies have started to wilt. No one knows what to do.
Time for a name.
Orienta.