(no subject)
Time: March 16, 2003 (?)
Place: The Sphinx’s room
Status: Private (The Sphinx), complete
Summary: The Sphinx thinks about heroes.
The Sphinx was sitting cross-legged on her bed and filling out a crossword puzzle. It wasn’t a particularly tricky one, by any means, so she was going through most of the clues in order, pausing occasionally to chew at the end of her pen.
It was not until very close to the end that she ran into that word. She frowned at the puzzle. The clue was easy; it was the word itself that she didn’t much like.
Herakles.
The puzzle insisted on Hercules, of course, but she preferred to call the man by his Greek name. He had certainly been trouble enough, he and the other heroes, and while the Sphinx was able to shrug off most of it, she had never quite forgiven him for what he had done to her brother.
Still irritated, the Sphinx wrote the man’s name into the puzzle with much more force than would have been necessary, almost perforating the paper. She then set to fill in the rest of the missing words, but her heart wasn’t at it any more, her thoughts occupied by her long dead relatives and their fates. Stupid beasts, the lot of them; they had been commanded this way and that, and then slain by heroes when they got in between two Olympians - or other powerful beings - who had a score to settle. The best way to remain alive was to avoid those situations altogether… But right now, it seemed to her, the ‘situation’ might not be willing to leave her alone.
The Sphinx put the puzzle magazine aside and laid back on her bed. She glared at the ceiling.. She knew she was relatively safe here, but this place drew people - all sorts of people, she had noticed - so there was a chance the one who had been spying on her was going to wind here eventually, too. And when he located her, all he needed to do was break the rules or, more likely, just wait until she would leave. She didn’t like being trapped, but she would be if she didn’t want to fight, and she hadn’t survived this long by picking fights she would lose. She had no illusions about the outcome of the fight, would it happen - while she didn’t know who was after her, exactly, the Olympians and other gods still had some power left, and underestimating them was a mistake likely to be lethal. And if it was a mortal… well, a mortal who was smart enough to figure her out and still keep himself hidden practically smelled of a hero, and fighting one would have been a suicide.
There were some other ways to deal with a hero, though. She had generally avoided them, or made a deal; her grandmother had went much further than that. The thought made her grit her teeth. As far as she was concerned, the heroes didn’t deserve any sort of kindness or fair treatment; what they deserved was to get strangled, all of them.
Place: The Sphinx’s room
Status: Private (The Sphinx), complete
Summary: The Sphinx thinks about heroes.
The Sphinx was sitting cross-legged on her bed and filling out a crossword puzzle. It wasn’t a particularly tricky one, by any means, so she was going through most of the clues in order, pausing occasionally to chew at the end of her pen.
It was not until very close to the end that she ran into that word. She frowned at the puzzle. The clue was easy; it was the word itself that she didn’t much like.
Herakles.
The puzzle insisted on Hercules, of course, but she preferred to call the man by his Greek name. He had certainly been trouble enough, he and the other heroes, and while the Sphinx was able to shrug off most of it, she had never quite forgiven him for what he had done to her brother.
Still irritated, the Sphinx wrote the man’s name into the puzzle with much more force than would have been necessary, almost perforating the paper. She then set to fill in the rest of the missing words, but her heart wasn’t at it any more, her thoughts occupied by her long dead relatives and their fates. Stupid beasts, the lot of them; they had been commanded this way and that, and then slain by heroes when they got in between two Olympians - or other powerful beings - who had a score to settle. The best way to remain alive was to avoid those situations altogether… But right now, it seemed to her, the ‘situation’ might not be willing to leave her alone.
The Sphinx put the puzzle magazine aside and laid back on her bed. She glared at the ceiling.. She knew she was relatively safe here, but this place drew people - all sorts of people, she had noticed - so there was a chance the one who had been spying on her was going to wind here eventually, too. And when he located her, all he needed to do was break the rules or, more likely, just wait until she would leave. She didn’t like being trapped, but she would be if she didn’t want to fight, and she hadn’t survived this long by picking fights she would lose. She had no illusions about the outcome of the fight, would it happen - while she didn’t know who was after her, exactly, the Olympians and other gods still had some power left, and underestimating them was a mistake likely to be lethal. And if it was a mortal… well, a mortal who was smart enough to figure her out and still keep himself hidden practically smelled of a hero, and fighting one would have been a suicide.
There were some other ways to deal with a hero, though. She had generally avoided them, or made a deal; her grandmother had went much further than that. The thought made her grit her teeth. As far as she was concerned, the heroes didn’t deserve any sort of kindness or fair treatment; what they deserved was to get strangled, all of them.