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johnnydoe69 · 4 years

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Old Wars, New Faces Part 4

It had been several weeks since Odysseus/Kevin had started working on the farm. Kevin for his part had never felt more relaxed, his insecurities melted away by the day as confidence and strength coursed through him. Things were changing so drastically and so fast, he was quickly losing sight of who he was. At one point, he had called his parents and told them that he was gay and never coming back to Boston and right as they started screaming, he just hung up the phone. The old Kevin never would have been able to tell his parents off, let alone be in a relationship with another man, but he had done both.

A few days after they got together, Dryas offered to let Odysseus stay with him until he got back on his feet. Odysseus at first was content with finding a solitary cave or a canopy of trees to sleep under, rather than intrude too far into Dryas’s life but Dryas quickly convinced him out of it. It was during this time that Odysseus learned of the primary way Dryas made his money and kept his job on the farm, sex. Dryas was fucking one of the overseer’s sons and in return, if he didn’t piss Markos off too much, he was forgiven for mistakes that would have gotten others fired. Odysseus was fine with this; on his voyages across the Mediterranean his crew would sleep with a prostitute or two if they were in port and Odysseus would have gladly joined in if not for his devotion to his wife. Yet, there was still jealousy in Odysseus’s heart. He didn’t understand why he kept getting rejected by other men and sought Dryas’s insight.

He decided to ask Dryas this, after a passionate night of cuddling and making out. They were both sweaty and satisfied, their naked bodies curled up around each other, as the cool sea air licked their skin.

“Dryas, you always tell me that I’m more attractive than you and yet, you are the one who has men waiting for you. Whenever I flirt with a man they ignore me or threaten to kill me. I know things are different on Kefalonia compared to Ithaki, but I never expected so much hatred and disgust.”

Dryas rested his chin on Odysseus’s shoulder and sighed, “I don’t know what kind of crazy shit they do on Ithaki, but the rest of Greece is simply like this. With how open you’ve been, it’s a miracle you’re not dead. Granted these big muscles are probably a big help.” Dryas gave one of Odysseus’s biceps a tight squeeze.

“A lot of the men I sleep with are closeted. They only meet me through group chats or word of mouth. Most of my business takes place during the Spring and Summer months, when businessmen from the mainland come to escape their wives and gay tourists arrive after not being able to afford the big parties on Mykonos and Santorini. It helps that tourist season is when all the gay bars are open, but for the rest of the year nothing is.”

“Surely, there are other gay meeting spots on Kefalonia than what’s open for tourists?” Odysseus asked.

“Well, there is one place, but its kind of pricey and seedy. I’d probably just stick to online hookups instead,” Dryas said with a yawn.

“No. That’s too much of a risk. I would rather meet the man in-person first,” Odysseus said firmly. Despite, the time of bliss he spent with Dryas he couldn’t risk being caught off guard by a servant of Paris.

“Alright old man,” Dryas said, rolling his eyes. “There's a small hotel called Odysseus’s Palace, its right off the beach, you can’t miss it. Inside the main lounge is a bar where some of the more well off and older gay Kefalonians like to meet up. I only go when I’m desperate for cash, they tend to be douchebags.” Dryas furrowed his brow and bit his lip, “On second thought, maybe you shouldn’t go to a place like that, Arsenios.

Odysseus moved his meaty arm behind his head to use as a headrest, “I’ve handled far more dangerous places in my lifetime, I’ll be fine.”

Several nights later, Odysseus decided to make his move. He left work late in the evening, took a shower, dressed casually, and texted Dryas letting him know he’d be out.

There were only a few men at the bar. All of them much older and less attractive than Odysseus hoped. They gawked at his presence like dogs to a piece of meat. Odysseus ordered a round of tequila and was quickly joined by the other men at the bar.

Dryas had been right, the men were wealthy professional types, mostly lawyers and doctors with a handful of retired landowners thrown in. They laughed warmly at Odysseus’s stories of prior hookup attempts and admired both his physical beauty and youth, but then one man asked what he did for a living. When he answered honestly, saying he was a farmhand, the mood in the room suddenly shifted.

They started asking him if he would suck their cocks in the bathroom for 50 euros, or bark like a dog for 70. They asked if he had a pimp or if he was freelance. In another time Odysseus would have stomped their bodies into dust for badgering him about his sex life, but Odysseus feared that the control over his body was only temporary and a massive fist fight could awaken Kevin to the truth.

So instead, he took to ignoring them and slowly they melted away to their own separate corners, grumbling to themselves about how he was being a tease before Odysseus was left alone again.

It was then that Odysseus noticed another young man come to the bar. He was as big as he was, yet far more agile and light on his feet. The man drifted in and out of conversations with ease, his voice shifting so quickly to appeal to a different audience he sounded like a brand new person with every man he interacted with.

As the night wore on and most of the men had drifted home the stranger sat next to Odysseus at the bar. “How about a cup of Ouzo for this generous man and a cup for me as well,” the man said to the bartender. A minute later the bartender poured out two cups of white wine.

They both thanked the bartender and the stranger took a sip from his drink.

The man’s twinkling brown eyes glanced into Odysseus's, “From what I’ve heard from the regulars you are quite an interesting man Arsenios. A strongman who can’t get laid, a farm worker who spends his earnings on men who wouldn’t put a euro in a beggar’s cup. Just when I thought I’d be stuck with dull pretentious bastards until the day I died,” the man said with a laugh.

“Funny, I thought the same about you. Coming in two hours before closing, you moved like Hermes himself from one man to another, and despite seeming to not like the men you drink with they seem to trust you very well” Odysseus said, sipping his ouzo. “Though I still don’t have a name to your face.”

The stranger smiled warmly, “My name is Diomedes of Argolis. I'm here on business, not pleasure. This hotel has water damage and I was brought in to access the situation. I came to the bar out of boredom. Not much to do here, but fish and drink is there?

Odysseus cracked a smile, “You’re not completely wrong in that. I’m not from this island either. I’m actually from an island next door, Ithaki.”

“Hmm, I once knew a man who lived on Ithaki. Looked a lot like you actually,” Diomedes said curiously.

“What do you know of this man from Ithaki,” Odysseus asked leaning forward.

“He was a stubborn, arrogant, pain in the ass. Loyal to his friends, cruel to his enemies. He had a massive muscular body just like yours, though I usually remember that egomaniac smeared with olive oil to show off his figure.” Diomedes took a swig of his wine, savoring the taste before continuing.

“He was a good friend, even when I wanted to kick the fucker’s teeth in. I only wished I did more with him when he was still alive.” Diomedes said with a sigh.

Odysseus nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss. He sounded like a good man.”

Diomedes smiled sadly, “Would you like to come up with me to my room? The neon lights of the bar are starting to give me a splitting headache and my place is only the floor above us.”

Odysseus nodded and they both got up from their stools. Odysseus tried to pay off the combined tab from everyone at the bar, but Diomedes wouldn’t hear a word of it. He simply plopped down his credit card and paid it off before Odysseus could refuse.

Afterwards they walked down the twisting corridors of the hotel to Diomedes’s room. It was a simple hotel room, similar to the motel room Odysseus had been living in with less filth. It was pristine, no swarms of cockroaches or lingering black mold anywhere in sight. When they crossed the threshold, they started making out.

They peeled off their clothes like second skins and embraced on Diomedes’s bed. As Odysseus felt Diomedes's warm tongue down his throat, he recognized the similar buzz of energy that ricocheted from Diomedes’s muscular frame, a buzz very similar to his own. Odysseus didn’t mind this and kept going, pushing Diomedes flat on the bed, and squatting on Diomedes' hard dick. He wheezed at the pain, they hadn’t used lube and there was no substitute in sight, but Odysseus made do.

It was Kevin, who was nearly pushed to the edge of oblivion by Odysseus, who was truly becoming aware of what was happening. His eyes widened at the warm glow that emitted from Diomedes' skin and became aware of the glow that came from his own. When Diomedes opened his eyes, it was full of an ancient knowledge Kevin couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Fear gripped him, sending waves of adrenaline up and down his spine, and yet this only made him grind deeper and faster on Diomedes’s dick, moaning harder and louder with every panicked thought.

Eventually, Diomedes came hard inside Odysseus/Kevin coating their insides with cum. Odysseus slowly raised himself off Diomedes’s dick, while furiously pulling at his own. Diomedes after taking a short breath, took Odysseus’s hand off his dick and massaged himself, using his thick fingers to coax the semen out of Odysseus’s hard dick and onto Diomedes’s flat stomach.

Then Odysseus collapsed onto the bed, both men panting heavily. After a few minutes of rest, they wiped themselves off and fell asleep. Both slept well into the night, even as Kevin’s brain raced at the possibilities at what was happening. Had the glowing been an illusion? A trick of the light? Did this man have something to do with the drastic changes to his body and attitude?

When Odysseus finally woke up the next morning, Diomedes was already out of bed and in the bathroom. Still exhausted from the night before, Odysseus staid in bed and stared out at Diomedes. If it was one of his enemies, Odysseus would have been dead already, but the stranger hadn’t revealed his identity divine to him earlier.

Diomedes caught him staring from his reflection in the mirror, “Before we had sex, did you really think I was some silly young twunk working a simple insurance claim?”

Odysseus laughed. “I suspected, but I wasn’t sure. Now who are you really?”

“I wasn’t lying when I told you I was Diomedes of Argolis,” Diomedes said turning on the faucet and washing his face.

“And that friend of yours that you spent all night insulting was supposed to me, right?” Odysseus asked, rolling his eyes. Diomedes didn’t answer so Odysseus continued, “Everyone in this country names their children after heroes and gods. Is Diomedes the name of the body you inhabit or was that by choice?”

Kevin squirmed internally, confused and terrified at the strange words leaving his lips. He tried to exert control over his own body, only to find he had none. Odysseus sighed.

“This is my own form, Odysseus. Purely immortal. Though, not enough to enjoy on Mt. Olympus it seems.” He said, taking out a toothbrush and cleaning his teeth.

“Your worship did fade out when the Romans lost interest in you” Odysseus said, trying to ignore Kevin twisting against his will.

“And my name was never as venerated as yours, hero of the Odyssey,” Diomedes said spitefully.

Diomedes was the wisest of the men fighting Troy and yet strangely to Odysseus one of the heroes least mentioned in the mortal world. It was strange that such a hero could be largely forgotten.

“Why didn’t you reveal yourself earlier to me at the bar?” Odysseus asked, sitting upright in the bed, arms crossed over his powerful chest.

“You were never as sly as people seemed to think you were. Or have you picked up the manners of your American body?” Diomedes asked.

“Honestly, I don’t know. It's strange being in another man’s body like this. It feels like mine and yet, completely alien to me.” Odysseus said looking at his hands. They were big, but nowhere as large as the mitts he had used to string a bow with.

“But you didn’t answer my question.” Odysseus said. Diomedes gave his arms a casual flex in the mirror before returning to his bed and sitting next to Odysseus.

“Well, since you were honest, I have to say that as blissful as the Isle of Pleasure was, I was bored. My worship never recovered when my hero cult fell into obscurity and who knew how much time was left before my soul faded as well. Might as well come back and make a name for myself.” Diomedes got back off the bed and went to a dresser, pulling on a long-sleeved shirt and undoing the wrapped towel, letting it fall to his ankles.

“Besides, where would you lot be without me? Probably pissing yourselves outside the walls of Paris’s villa,” Diomedes said, pulling out a jock strap and a pair of jeans.

“Lot? There are more of us coming?” Odysseus asked, leaning on his side.

“Yep. Not much of a war with only 2 people, is it?” Diomedes asked, putting on his jock strap.

“You know where Paris is?” Odysseus asked.

“Yeah, that guy does not keep a low profile. Here’s his Instagram account,” Diomedes said, tossing Odysseus his phone. Odysseus caught it with one hand and had a look.

“He’s utterly defenseless,” Odysseus said, getting up from the bed.

“What you don't see is all the security cameras, bulletproof windows, and the fact that he is constantly surrounded by people who would die to defend him. You don't need to wear armor as obviously as we dod in the old days,” Diomedes said, pulling a tight pair of jeans over his legs and ass.

Odysseus paced around Diomedes' bedroom; his dick stuck hard to his thigh. “You’re right, we need allies and weapons. It would help if we could locate some of the other heroes back from the Underworld to aid us. Then we’d have a chance.”

“Well, I found you dumbass. It shouldn’t be hard to find some of the others. Not that I’ve been looking very hard,” Diomedes said, sitting back on the bed.

“Hey,” Odysseus said, dropping his phone back in Diomedes’s lap.

“Oh what? Don’t act like you haven’t been enjoying your time with mortals either,” Diomedes said. Kevin continue to struggle against Odysseus’s power, exhausting him to the point that after a few minutes of pacing Odysseus had to already sit back down.

“Yeah, I think the mortal whose body I picked up is becoming aware of my presence,” Odysseus said, panting.

Diomedes nodded. “Give yourself time to readjust. If you haven’t already, try giving the man whose body you inhabit a different personality to enjoy.”

“What does that mean?” Odysseus asked.

“You already call yourself, Arsenios. I’m guessing different than the body’s original name, try creating a persona for that. In that way you can cross into autopilot when you need, without worrying about internal resistance. It will be hard, but I know you can manage it.” Diomedes said, “Now get up, I have work in a few hours and I’m sure you have other places to be as well.”

Odysseus nodded and got out of bed, giving Kevin an internal kick, quieting him enough so Odysseus would have enough strength to get home. Things would be hard, Odysseus grimaced, but he could manage. A thought that made Kevin internally scream with rage.

#Possession #male transformation

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mythologyfolklore · 4 years

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Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 12

Chapter Twelve: The last days of the Trojan War

(A/N: Tw: Graphic depiction of violence, infanticide, horrific rape, sacrilege and basically war and pillaging in all its terror.)

Soon after Hektor's funeral, the Amazons came from Thrace to the aid of the Trojans, led by their queen Penthesileia.

Penthesileia was a daughter of Ares and the Amazon queen Otrera and had accidentally killed her beloved sister Hippolyta. And she craved only one thing: a glorious death in battle.

The Amazons were feared for their battle prowess and the Achaeans soon found out the hard way, that it hadn't been empty tales they had heard. They were small in numbers, but quickly overran the Achaean forces, until Akhilleus turned the tables.

The two demigods fought viciously, showing no mercy. The warrior queen was such a dangerous opponent, that the goddess Athena had to magically paralyse her limbs, before Akhilleus could fatally wound her with his spear.

He triumphed, but only for a few seconds; until he removed her helmet and beheld the splendour and beauty of a goddess, the charisma and strength of a daughter of Ares, that not even death could take away from her.

She was so beautiful that even his comrades and the Trojans around them stopped fighting and just marvelled at the fairness of the defeated warrior queen.

Akhilleus could practically feel, how the golden arrow of Eros pierced his heart.

Struck him with remorse and repentant love.

Made him mourn, that such perfection had to die.

It was the same intense grief he had felt, when Patroklos had died, which was strange, considering he had only known this woman for a few minutes and was currently staring at a corpse.

Still, he wondered if maybe he could have made her his queen and take her back to Phthia, where he came from.

All this happened before her father's eyes.

Ares saw his beloved daughter fall and felt like the ground was breaking away below him.

He saw Akhilleus standing over her, frozen and – Ares could tell – entranced by her unearthly beauty. Reaching out hesitantly to touch this impossibly fair face.

In a moment's notice, Ares was behind the demigod, invisible, but not inaudible, letting him feel his presence – and his anger.

“Do not touch my daughter, Peleídes”, the god of terrible war snarled into his ear.

Akhilleus pulled his hand back instantly. But he stayed where he was, staring down at Penthesileia's body.

Suddenly another Achaean opened his mouth, a really ugly fuck (Thersites, if Ares wasn't mistaken): “So the great Akhilleus is defeated by the beauty of a woman, like some ordinary skirt-chaser? Made weak by a woman, who wrought nothing but death and destruction on the Achaean army? I bet you want to strip her naked right on the battlefield and-”

He didn't get any further, because Akhilleus whirled around and sucker-punched the disgusting blusterer, killing him instantly.

“Anyone else?”, the son of Thetis asked the audience nonchalantly.

They collectively shook their heads in response, although there were a few agitated murmurs at the murder of one of their own.

But then Diomedes lifted his hand to silence them.

His bright blue eyes (so similar to those of Athena) stared right into the blood-red ones of Ares in sombre recognition. And in no way haughty or even disrespectful, just because he had been able to wound the war god once.

The Argive spoke: “Thersites had it coming and no one is going to miss him. Still, Akhilleus, you must be purified for the murder, even though you did a favour to everyone, including her divine father. Now choose wisely what to do with the Amazon queen, for I see murderous Ares and he is enraged over his daughter's demise.”¹

Uncomfortable silence.

Then Menélaos and Agamemnon exchanged a glance and a nod of agreement.

It was red-haired Menélaos, who spoke, to one of the surviving Amazons: “Penthesileia was a great warrior and truly the child of Ares Miaiphonos². Even though she was our enemy, she should not be done the outrage of being denied a proper funeral. Take her body back to Troy and bury her like the queen she was.”

“Take your fallen comrades with you. And keep her armour”, Agamemnon added, “We don't wish to incur the wrath of the fearsome Teikhesiplêtês³ by plundering his daughter.”

This gesture of respect was odd coming from the Achaeans, especially from the Atreides.

The god of war wasn't sure, if it could be attributed to his daughter's beauty or if his own adversary Athena had finally shown an glimpse of pity towards him and filled those simple mortal minds with respect and reverence.

It was a minuscule comfort to Ares, that his daughter's body would be treated with due respect.

But a comfort nonetheless.

Penthesileia was buried with the honours of a queen.

Priamos had her and her fallen companions laid to rest beside the tombs of his proud father, king Laomedon and his glorious son Hektor.

It was the least he could do for the radiant daughter of Ares and her companions, who had fallen in their effort to protect the Trojans, whom they had hardly known.

As Ares lingered by the side of his daughter's shroud, he met an interesting person.

He knew who she was, Apollon had often spoken of her.

“Lord Ares”, she whispered and fell onto her knees, shaking. “Teikhesiplêtês, Andreiphontês, Khrysopêlêx, Theos Miaiphonos, Deinos, Sunarogos Themistos-”⁴

“Enough”, he said calmly. “I'm not here as a god, but as a father.”

“Yes, Ánax⁵”, she answered.

“And you're Kassandra, daughter of Priamos”, he returned. “I have heard of you – the seeress, whom no one believes. Did you know, that you would meet me here?”

“Yes”, she whispered and added: “Though in my vision, you looked different. More terrifying than I can say.”

Ares smiled dryly. “So your vision showed you my true form, then. But gazing upon a god in reality would kill a mortal. When I walk the earth, I must use less frightening disguises.”

He had made himself look like an ordinary Trojan civilian, black-eyed and -haired, with dark skin. An innocuous-looking shape. One that no normal mortal would have pinned to be the war god in disguise.

“Now tell me, princess, what are you doing here?”

He hadn't meant to sound frightening, but still she trembled.

“I just came to pay my respects to your daughter Penthesileia. And to bring offerings. I didn't mean to disturb, I-”

“Sshhh. Easy, girl. I don't want to harm you.”

“The last god I encountered cursed me”, she whispered.

“I know”, Ares nodded, “But don't blame yourself. None of this shit is your fault. You didn't deserve to be cursed, just because you said no. He's a pretentious arsehole, most gods are. And on top of that, he can't get over his self-esteem issues.”

She snorted.

“Besides”, he continued, “It's not certain, if you could have saved yourself and others, if they listened to you. My father wanted this entire war to happen, then your jackass half-brother Paris was dumb enough to piss off my mother and half-sister and the entirety of Hellas and then he was too egotistical to put the well-being of an entire people over his own.”

Kassandra bit her lip and he saw a few stray tears run down her cheeks.

He sighed and crouched down in front of her. “Don't blame Helene, okay? She never asked for any of this shit either. She despises Paris more than anyone.”

“I know”, she choked. “Still it's not fair! What did we do to deserve this?!”

“You didn't do anything. Your ancestors screwed up and the Moirai and great Ananke are fucking bitches. I have never met either of them, but I would love to punch them in the face. Gods can't avoid their fates any more than humans can. Only the Primordials have the power to redirect the course of fate, but not even they can do it without consequence”, the war god explained.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I want you to understand, that we Deathless Ones are no happier than you mortals are. We bargain, suffer and mourn. We just have all eternity to learn live with the pain. That doesn't make us happier.”

Ares sighed sadly and turned back to his daughter's shroud.

“It's a small comfort to me, that my dear daughter got the glorious battle death she wanted and the respect she deserved. Very few of my children get that luxury, ya know. They're like me, volatile and following their own laws.”

For a few moments neither of them spoke.

Then Kassandra finally approached the shroud to place down her offerings.

“She was a great woman”, she told the war god. “A true queen and warrior. You must be very proud of her.”

“I am. I really am.”

It was nothing more than a whisper.

He was Ares, god of the horrors of war, of the bloodshed, violence, murder, rage, the sacking of towns, rebellion, courage and fear.

He would not fall apart and cry in front of a mortal.

Soon he had composed himself and remarked: “You're a really unfortunate creature, even for a mortal. Ya know, Kassandra, with the shit you've gone through and that's still ahead of you, I'm surprised that you haven't killed yourself.”

“That would be the easy way out.”

“But still better than what you'll get put through once Troy is conquered”, Ares pointed out.

“I know, Lord Ares”, Kassandra replied, “But I will not run away. I'm not a coward.”

“Very brave. I'm impressed. And that's rare, believe me.”

“Thank you.”

“I can't save you from your doom – fate forbids me to.”

“I know.”

“But I pity you nonetheless and because I admire your courage, I want to give you something. Don't worry, I want nothing in return.”

“I …”

“Shhh. Open your mouth and hold still.”

He cupped her face and came as close as a few centimetres.

Then he breathed into her mouth, transferred some of his essence onto her and let go.

Kassandra blinked in confusion, but also seemed relieved, that he hadn't actually kissed her.

“How are you feeling?”, Ares asked.

“Better”, she marvelled, “Refreshed … stronger. What … what did you do to me?”

The war god smiled. “I've given you a better gift than your cursed precognition: the inner strength and courage to bear all the hardships ahead of you. I can't take your pain away, but I can take your weariness. Compassion isn't my strong suit, but you and your family have treated the remains of my beloved child and her companions with highest respect. Therefore, you're worthy of mine.”

“Thank you …”, the princess choked.

He didn't hug her, when she started to sob.

But he did hold her hand as comfort.

“I can't believe you got to kiss her!”, Apollon whined later, “When I asked her for a kiss, she outright told me to get lost!”

“I didn't kiss her, dumbass!”, Ares fumed, “I breathed courage and inner strength into her, so that she can bear her suffering and her terrible fate easier! I gave her a gift that is actually good for her, without asking for love or sex in return! Excuse me for not being a jerk for once in my life and pitying her more than you did! Get off my dick, Sunny Boy!”

“Why, you-!”

“He's right, you know”, Artemis threw in, “Sorry, brother, but I'm taking his side. He isn't into her and still was kinder to her than you. So leave him and her alone.”

Apollon huffed, but fell silent.

Shortly after, another deity wept for her son.

Êôs, Titanis of the dawn, was the mother of Memnon, an Ethiopian leader, who had been sent to help the Trojans. A wise and modest young man, yet a brave warrior; Êôs and Tithonos had raised him well.

He too fell against Akhilleus after a fierce duel, just like Hektor and Penthesileia before him.

The divine allies of the Achaeans cheered, especially Akhilleus' mother Thetis.

But Apollon, Artemis and Aphrodite mourned silently.

Êôs didn't care about silent.

She screamed, howled with rage, showered Thetis, Athena, Poseidon and even Zeus and Hera with profanities and curses.

She threatened to descend to the hidden depths of the netherworld and dwell with the dark Protogenoi, with holy Khaos and dark Nyx, Erebos and Tartaros and to never ascend to the skies to bring the light of day.

Zeus rose from his throne and it began to thunder outside, but Ares stepped in.

He placed his hand on her head and – Athena could see it – took away her rage, leaving only her motherly grief. Then he took everyone by surprise by embracing the dawn goddess and holding her tightly. He whispered something into her ear, she wailed loudly and cried into his shoulder.

Aphrodite looked really jealous at this display, but Apollon put a hand onto her shoulder and shook his head sombrely.

For a moment Athena was confused as to why Ares was being so tender. It was almost like he was showing sympathy …

Oh.

Stupid her.

It was sympathy.

He had lost two children and knew how she was feeling. And he sympathised particularly with Êôs' sadness, because she had once been his mistress. Because he knew that even with all her mortal affairs, she was still in love with him, albeit it was unrequited.

Athena had never felt compassion with the allies of Troy, but this got to her, almost like an epiphany.

She didn't show it, but she said nothing either.

There was nothing a virgin goddess could say to two heartbroken parents.

Apollon was the one to put Akhilleus down.

The demigod had caught a bad case of hubris and tried to break down the gates of Troy and take the city all by himself. And when Apollon had told him to cut it out, Akhilleus had given him the middle finger and told him to get out of his way.

For a god, who was lethal even from afar, this was one offence too many.

The Bringer of Plagues stepped behind Paris, who was standing on the city wall.

Whispered in his ear and guided his hand.

The arrow, dipped in the venomous wrath of the divine archer, flew and hit its mark: the only part of Akhilleus, that wasn't invulnerable.

Most people wouldn't think a shot to the heel as being really bad, but as mentioned before, the arrow had been poisoned. And it pierced a vital vein.

Akhilleus killed a few more Trojans, but he was dead in a matter of minutes.

Ajax Telamonides and Odysseus rescued the demigod's corpse from being plundered by the Trojans, but the Achaeans mourned his death for three weeks.

Apollon on the other hand was triumphant, as were the others, who shared his side. Especially Ares seemed to practically ooze with grim satisfaction at his half-brother's retribution. The war god didn't gloat or triumph aloud and in front of the other gods. He didn't have to; the twisted, grim smile on his face said it all.

Hera on the other hand was furious and showered Apollon with reproaches and insults.

The son of Leto bore it silently for a while and stubbornly stared at the floor.

But when she accused him of ingratitude, reminded him, that he had been at Thetis' wedding and claimed, that he had murdered Akhilleus out of envy, Apollon snapped.

“SHUT THE TARTAROS UP!!!”, he roared, “HE HAS OFFENDED ME MULTIPLE TIMES, MURDERED TWO OF MY SONS – ONE OF THEM IN FRONT OF MY ALTAR NO LESS, AND HE WAS STILL A CHILD! – KILLED A DAUGHTER OF YOUR SON ARES AND A SON OF ÊÔS AND TRIED TO TEAR DOWN TROY BY HIMSELF, SO THE ACHAEANS CAN COMMIT THE WORST WAR CRIMES!!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT??? THAT I WOULD GIVE A FUCK, JUST BECAUSE I WAS AT HIS MOTHER'S WEDDING?! IT WAS AN HONOUR WE DID TO HER, NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND! WE OWE HER NOTHING! AND WE CERTAINLY DON'T OWE RESPECT TO THAT SHITFACE OF A HERO, WHO DOESN'T DESERVE ANY OF IT! YOU DON'T KNOW HOW IT FEELS TO LOSE A CHILD!!! GET OFF MY FUCKING BACK, YOU – YOU …!!!”

“Shhh! Easy!”, Aphrodite hushed him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Don't stoop so low as to throw petty insults. Your father's anger isn't worth it. And neither is she.”

She threw a hateful glare at Hera.

Ares placed a hand on his other shoulder and turned to Zeus: “Father, with your permission we'll see ourselves out.”

His father consented: “That would be wise. And Apollon, even though you're right with what you say, you must show respect to my wife. Remember that for the future.”

Apollon bit his lip, but nodded.

Artemis took her brother's hand and together with Ares and Aphrodite they left the assembly.

“I'm sorry for lashing out at your mother like that”, Apollon apologised as soon as the four were alone in the garden.

“Don't mind that”, the war god muttered, “Normally I'd be pissed, but you were right with everything you said. She's been nothin' but a bitch in the last decades. I'm mad at her anyway, for all the times she sicced Daddy's Owl on me. My mother is faithful to my father, but the price for that is, that she doesn't know parental grief. You know her. One day she's the perfect mother and the next day she's the worst. An' yeah, sure, Thetis suffers, but we all suffer more and it's partly the fault of her son – the rest is the fault of the other Achaeans.”

“Can I ask you something?”, Artemis inquired.

Ares nodded. “Sure.”

“How much do you really know?”

He gawked at her in amazement.

Then he laughed, for the first time since Penthesileia's death. “Ya know, you're the first person ever to ask me that! Ever! And I'm, like, 38 000 years old!”

“… That's depressing.”

“Yeah, but I'm used to it.”

“That's even more depressing!”

Ares grinned. “An' that's why we're friends! Hey, guys, wanna get plastered?”

Artemis shrugged: “Sure, I'm game.”

Apollon smiled weakly: “Me too. I really need a drink.”

Aphrodite chuckled: “Absolutely! Let's get roaring drunk at Dionysos' bar and talk about the future and the good ol' days!”

They spent the rest of the day and night doing exactly that.

Meanwhile in the assembly hall, the other Olympians sat in silence at the scene that just had occurred.

Until Zeus turned to his wife and rebuked her: “Not Apollon's wrath brought Akhilleus low, but his own hubris. He brought this upon himself. As the god of law I can't and won't make exceptions, not even for Thetis. I value her more than anyone, but that doesn't change the fact, that her son was ill-bred. After all the offences he committed towards gods and mortals alike, it would have been extremely unjust to grant him a longer life span. Why would I spare him, when I couldn't spare the children of mine and of Poseidon, Ares, Apollon, or Êôs? There is nothing more to say, Hera. He was fated to die and that's that. Be quiet.”

Hera fumed and was about to make a retort, but Athena put a hand on her shoulder.

“Let's not fight pointlessly”, the goddess of wisdom said. “Instead, let us attend Akhilleus' funeral, for the sake of Thetis.”

“And that of your friends Odysseus and Diomedes?”, Poseidon teased.

Athena glared at him. “Shut up.”

Thetis was relentless in her grief for her fallen son.

Her sisters came to her son's funeral to wail with her.

Even the Mousai came to attend and sing for the Nereid's sake.

“Damn Zeus”, the sea goddess wailed, “Damn him, damn him, damn him! He forced me to marry a mortal man against my will and gave my son – the only comfort of my unwanted fate – a short life span, while at the same time promising me, that he would gain everlasting fame! What do I care about glory, now that I had to bury my son, while he was still young! To Tartaros with all of them! When the other gods bound him, it was me who saved him and in return I had to endure all of this?! What did I do to deserve this! I will go up to Olympos and remind him of all the things I have done for him and all the things I had to go through, because of his ingratitude, so that he might be ashamed-”

“Shut up.”

Everyone whirled around and in amazement stared at Kalliope, the Mousa of epic poetry.

She was frowning, but as she continued, her voice was gentle: “Don't be so foolish as to invoke the wrath of both gods and men. You're not the only one suffering. Kronion too had to see his dear sons suffer and die, without being able to save them. Herakles became a god, but only after endless torment. I had to endure many pains for the sake of my son Orpheus, only to see him die in a most cruel manner, torn apart by the Bakkhai. Several of the Dodekatheoi are mourning for their children, who fell in this cruel and pointless war – some of them were felled by your son. Be as tactful to them as you expect them to be with you. Troy will soon fall, just like your son, that is the decree of the incorruptible and unyielding Moirai. As for Akhilleus: as long as civilization exists, he will be remembered in song, poetry and stories – he will not be forgot by mankind. So great is his glory. That shall be your comfort.”

Then Helios descended from the sky and primordial Nyx brought darkness and the relief of her gentle son Hypnos.

During the funeral games for Akhilleus, Athena had interfered several times, to the favour of her dear favourite Odysseus.

In the end, he had even won the armour of the great hero, that Hephaistos had made for Akhilleus, before he had gone to slay Hektor.

The other contender had been Ajax the Greater, who had been so furious at his loss, that he had plotted Odysseus' demise.

Athena admitted, that he'd had a right to the armour just as much as Odysseus, but still she couldn't let him slay one of her favourite heroes, so she had struck him with madness.

When Ajax came to his senses and realised, that he had killed a whole flock of sheep in his attempt to kill those who had wronged him, he was filled with deep despair.

After a tearful goodbye to his concubine and son, he threw himself into his own sword.

Agamemnon and Menélaos had wanted to deny the almost-murderer a proper burial.

But Odysseus, ridden by conscience and fear of the gods, had reminded them, that Ajax had been a great hero and a great support to the Achaeans against the Trojans. And besides, disrespecting the dead meant disrespecting the gods.

The Atreides were surprised at Odysseus generosity, but wouldn't object to his reasoning.

“I hated him as long as it was appropriate”, the wily king of Ithaka explained, “But now that he's dead, I have no reason to hold grudges. Besides, it is my fault that he lost it.”

He turned towards Ajax' family: “I promise, that you will not be scorned or mistreated, because of his mistake. If you want, I can help you bury him too-”

“No thank you”, Teukros declined flatly, “My brother's spirit is likely still angry at you, so he wouldn't want it. I will do it alone – it's all I can do, because I can't return home without him. But we appreciate the support.”

Athena had revealed to Odysseus and the seer Kalkhas how they would gain the final victory over the Trojans.

So they had enlisted the help of Akhilleus' teenage son Pyrrhos (or Neoptolemos, as he was also called) and of Philoktetes, an archer, whom they had abandoned of an island before the war, because he had been incapacitated by a snake bite, which had given off an unbearable stench, as well as mortal agony. But he wasn't just any archer; he owned a very special bow – the very weapon that once had belonged to the great Herakles. The then mortal hero had gifted it to him, along with the poisoned arrows, as reward for lighting his funeral pyre to relieve his suffering.

Neoptolemos had been easy to persuade, but Philoktetes had only buried his righteous grudge after the now deified Herakles had appeared before his old friend to reveal his destiny and his role in the end of the war. Now he had calmed down and agreed to help, much to the delight of the Achaeans.

The unerring arrows of Herakles, dipped in the Hydra's venom, felled many Trojans, but they weren't too important.

The only one whose death mattered was Paris, who had caused this entire war and brought unending suffering over both sides.

He was wounded by two of the poisoned arrows and in desperation dragged himself to his ex-wife Oinone, an Oreade and great healer, to save him. But Oinone, still hurt that he had dumped her for Helene, told him to go and fuck himself.

And so Paris died a long, agonising but well-deserved death.

Overcome with remorse, Oinone built him a funeral pyre and jumped into the flames to die with him. She had been the only one to whole-heartedly mourn this ominous man.

The Trojans mourned him as a formality, but in truth no one was really sad as he had been hated by all.

Helene of Sparta wept, but not for him; she cried for things that had been out of her power and because she was now forced to marry Paris' brother Deiphobos, who was just as unpleasant.

She refused to share his bed; that man was no match for a daughter of Zeus.

Instead she sneaked out and wandered the streets, homesick and wishing she was dead or better yet, could turn back time and stop all this from happening.

She was wandering through a dark alley, when she came across two beggars.

“Mild alms, kind lady”, the shorter one rasped.

Pitying him, she took off the golden armlet she was wearing and gave it to him.

But then their eyes met and she recognised him, of course she did; she would have recognised those sly, knowing mossy green eyes anywhere.

“Odysseus!!!”

“Shhhh!”, he hissed. “Be quiet, Helene! Do you want to get us killed?!”

“Sorry”, she whispered. “Wait, Diomedes? You're here too?! How did you two get in? What are you doing here?”

“How we got in here doesn't matter”, Diomedes grumbled, “As for why we're here, how can we trust you not to rat us out? You abandoned your husband and daughter twenty years ago, not to mention-”

“I didn't abandon them!”, she lamented, “I was abducted by Aphrodite and Paris! And here in Troy I have been met with scorn and animosity from everyone except Priamos and Hektor, but he's dead! I hate being responsible for all of this! You have no idea how often I have wished, I … I … I just want to go home! I miss Sparta, I miss Menélaos and I miss Hermione! I … I never got to see her grow up!”

“Don't cry”, Odysseus told her in a gentler tone, “I miss my wife and son too. I too want to go home to Ithaka, spend the rest of my days at Penelope's side and see my son grow into a fine man. I know how you feel, trust me. And if you help me, we can finally end this damn war and get out of here.”

“How is Menélaos?”, Helene inquired.

“He's fine”, Diomedes said, “As brash and volatile as ever. I'll be honest with you, he's furious at you. But I'm sure he'll change his mind as soon as he sees you again.”

Helene smiled drily: “Then my cursed beauty would be useful for once in my life. But still, why are you here?”

In the end she assisted them in stealing the Palladion by showing them the way and helping them get out unseen.

As they said their goodbyes, Helene took off the locket she was wearing.

“Menélaos gave it to me”, she said gently. “Tell him, that I have kept it for all these years. It was the only thing I had left of him and my home.”

The giant wooden horse had been Odysseus' idea.

In retrospect, he couldn't believe it hadn't come to him sooner.

But that didn't matter now. They had a city to conquer.

It took several weeks to build the horse and a few days to select the warriors that were to hide inside the hollow structure.

But someone had to trick the Trojans into taking the horse into their city.

The man chosen for this task was Sinon, a cousin of Odysseus and equally sly dog. He had them whip him and then they dragged the horse in front of the city gate. There the poser claimed, that the horse was dedicated to Athena as penance for the theft of the Palladion and that they had tried to sacrifice him, but he had got away.

It worked.

The Trojans tore off a part of their impenetrable city wall, because the wooden horse was too big for the gates. After that they pulled it into their city, not suspecting that it was hiding a bunch of Achaean warriors.

Princess Kassandra and the priest Laokoon warned, that it was a ruse, but no one believed Kassandra and Laokoon was quickly silenced by Athena, who sent a pair of serpents to kill him and his sons.

Kassandra grabbed a torch and was about to set the horse on fire and kill the Achaeans inside, but was held back by the Trojans – much to the relief of the hidden warriors.

They waited until nightfall, until most Trojans were asleep.

Then Sinon gave the signal to the troops waiting outside, the contingent hidden inside the horse crept outside and the massacre began.

“Regretting your support yet?”, Apollon asked frostily. “Or are you actually proud of the Achaeans' poor conduct?”

“What do you mean?”, Hera frowned.

Now Ares stepped forward. He was holding a huge scroll, probably metres long.

“Glad you ask!”, he sneered. “Do ya know what I have here?”

Everyone but Zeus, Apollon and Thémis (she was here too) shook their heads.

The war god smiled coldly: “As Zeus' heir, one of the duties I have is looking through my father's mail. It's a real nightmare, but sometimes it does come in handy. This is a list of complaints and revenge prayers, mostly about certain members of the Achaeans. If I read ya the entire list, we'd be here all night. So I'll give you a summary. Starting with Agamemnon: blasphemy against several gods, sacrileges, attempted murder of his own daughter and human sacrifice towards Artemis, offence of a priest of Apollon, offence of a demigod, violation of the laws of hospitality, murder. Akhilleus: rape, violation of the laws of hospitality, blasphemy against several gods, murder of several other demigods, attacking of a god. Diomedes: physical harm of several gods, attacking of a god, attempted murder of a demigod. Odysseus: attempted perjury, judicial murder …”

How dare he talk shit about Diomedes and Odysseus!

Ares probably guessed what she was thinking, but didn't show it.

With a scoff he looked over his fellow gods. “You didn't expect that, did ya? That I keep track of everyone's bullshit? Y'all keep forgetting, that aside from terrible war, I'm also a god of civil disturbance, crime and order. But ya know what? Why waste the night by rattlin' down this huge ass scroll? Why don't we just look at what's goin' on right now and let that speak for itself? Father, may I?”

“You may”, Zeus consented.

Ares threw a red ball of light at the ceiling, opening a screen of what was happening in Troy.

Several of the gods gasped.

The war god had finally stopped smirking and was arching an eyebrow at the scene.

“They're really goin' at it, aren't they? Pretty poor sportsmanship, eh?”

“Silence!”, Zeus ordered.

His eyes were wide with appal, as he stared at one particular scene:

Hektor's widow Andromákhe was fleeing from Neoptolemos, son of Akhilleus, with her infant son Astyanax in her arms, but he quickly caught up to them. What the young man did then was terrible: he brutally ripped the child out of his mother's arms and pierced him with his sword. Andromákhe's anguished screams were so heart-wrenching, that even Poseidon averted his eyes.

Apollon furiously pointed at that scene: “Look at this! Aren't you so proud?! Some fine grandson Thetis got there! He's even worse than his father! He just brutally murdered an infant! A defenceless little child and tore him out of his mother's arms!”

“Shut y-”, Hera started, but then Zeus cried out: “Oh my me!”

Neoptolemos had entered one of Zeus' temples and found king Priamos, seeking shelter at the altar together with a few others. Priamos stepped in front of his wife and the others to at least try to protect them and scolded the young man for his impiety. But Neoptolemos, still holding the corpse of Astyanax, clubbed the old man to death with it in front of the horrified onlookers.⁶

Zeus looked like he wanted to puke.

Athena felt like puking too. This was just …

But before she could end that thought, Ares sneered: “Pretty inhuman, that boy. How old is he, fifteen? Most boys at that age go to school or learn a craft, play silly games and dream of silly things. And he's beating an old man to death with a child's corpse at father's altar! Good thing his grandmother isn't here – oh great, it gets worse!”

“Worse???”, Poseidon responded incredulously, “What could be a worse crime than-?”

A piercing scream cut him off.

The focus had shifted to a different scene.

They saw Ajax the Lesser enter a temple of Athena, where he found princess Kassandra clinging to a statue of the goddess.

Athena blanched and burst into tears at what happened next.

Even Ares squeezed his eyes shut, as the Lokrian committed the one crime he considered unforgivable (and it wasn't sacrilege).

“Abominable”, he snarled. “Some hero, that. Of all the war crimes he could have committed, it had to be the worst one, the one even I can't stand … and you call me barbaric.”

He turned to Athena and she loathed his pitying expression.

“Tell me, Daddy's Owl, is that how you define 'war for a just cause' or 'justice in war'? Where is the heroism, the virtue and sense of honour you always talk about? Does this correspond with your idealism, if the side you support rears its ugly head like that? Is this what you're willing to tolerate, as long as your side wins? I'll repeat Apollon's question from earlier: are you proud, Daddy's Owl? Are you?”

“Shut up!”, she howled and cried into her hands.

Poseidon gently touched her arm and tried to give his niece at least a modicum of comfort, but there was nothing that could console Athena now.

And to her distress Ares went on, this time addressing Hera: “And you, mother? Do you feel proud and triumphant? Do you condone all of this, just because that moron Paris didn't pick you to be the fairest? The extent of your pettiness and spite are truly pathetic. Rejoice all you want, but your victory is hollow.”

“That's enough”, Zeus finally told him. “No more of your taunting, Ares. No one is the victor in this war, just like you wanted. The Achaeans have won, but their divine allies haven't. As for you, this is your war now and the mortals are under your cruel sway, but you had to bear too great losses for this to be worth it, for this to satisfy you.”

“No”, Ares agreed. “We both have always known, that it wasn't worth it. Then again, father, this was your will, wasn't it? You pulled the strings through all of this, like the manipulator you are. And yet, even you lose, even you suffer. Not even you saw this coming, even you can't bear this and that is the price you pay for allowing this to happen. This is my definition of justice. Because I'm right and you all know it, that's one of the reasons why you hate me. How does it feel to finally have to face the fact, that you're all terrible people, just like me?”

Now he finally ended his sardonic speech and turned to leave. “Either way, I have no more business here. I'll pack my things and leave Olympos. My work won't be needed anytime soon, so I'll go back to Thrake and then maybe see the world. Enjoy the next centuries of relative peace and recovery for mankind.”

No one stopped him, as he grabbed his cloak and strode out of the hall with his head held high.

It seemed like an eternity, until the ensuing silence was broken.

Poseidon was the one who did: “Zeus, I don't think they deserve a full victory. Only those who are granted a triumphant return are truly victorious. And I don't think they have earned the right to come home in triumph or even at all.”⁷

Zeus agreed: “No, they really haven't. I hereby decree, that only those who have acted honourably and with piety will be granted a safe and triumphant homecoming and a good life for the rest of their days.”

“… Revenge.”

The King of the Skies blinked. “What was that, my daughter?”

Athena lowered her hands.

Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her cheeks flushed with shame and fury and her face was a hideous grimace of unbridled hatred.

“Revenge”, she snarled, “I want revenge!”

She stared at the scene on the screen, which was still on the ceiling.

The Achaeans were currently failing to punish Ajax for his sacrilege, despite Odysseus' fierce demand to have him stoned to death to appease the wrathful goddess.

“LET ME DESTROY THEM!”, Athena roared all of the sudden, terrifying everyone, “LET ME DESTROY AJAX, HIS BAND AND ALL THOSE WHO DIDN'T PUNISH HIM!!! I WON'T HAVE A MOMENT'S REST, BEFORE I HAVE SEEN THIS DISGUSTING BASTARD SUFFER AND PERISH AT MY OWN HANDS!!! LET ME HAVE RETRIBUTION, FATHER! GIVE ME JUSTICE!!!”

“You shall have it”, Zeus pacified her, “Take my lightning bolts, my armour and my sceptre. This once, the sky, the winds and storms shall obey your command. Unleash your wrath and avenge all offences to your heart's content.”

Poseidon stepped forward. “The sea shall assist you as well”, he spoke grimly, “For I too am angered and only seeing them drown after a helpless struggle can appease me now.”

He chuckled coldly: “Ares was right; we really are terrible people. But so were they and I don't see why we should let them get away with it.”

“We won't”, Zeus assured him. “I won't.”

It's said, that the sea is a cruel mistress.

And that she never releases, what she claims.

That was certainly true for the Lord of the Sea.

Even the greatest fleet of ships was nothing more than a bunch of tiny papyrus boats on Thalassa's⁸ seemingly endless surface, small and breakable.

The Lord of the Deep and the Bright-eyed Goddess easily tore them to shreds in their relentless wrath.

Many of their crew drowned, but most importantly the one who had desecrated the sacred ground of Athena with the vilest of crimes.

Some were favoured for good conduct and reached their homes quickly and safely.

Some came home only to find nasty surprises waiting there.

Then there were those, who only came home after years of troublesome journey, because one or the other god was wroth, but not enough to outright kill them.

One of the last ones was favoured by Athena and his name would be known by his insanely long journey home:

Odysseus.

---

1) According to one source, Diomedes throws a hissy fit, disrespects Penthesileia's corpse and is ready to throw hands with Akhilleus, because Thersites is a cousin of his. But this makes no sense for a lot of reasons (like Thersites being a common soldier, while Diomedes is one of the Argive leaders), so I ignored that version and decided to make him more sensible than that. I went with the version, which is most detailed, but doesn't mention anything of this. I also decided to let him keep the magical sight Athena gave him, so he always recognises a god, when he sees one. 2) Miaiphonos: "Blood-Stained One / Defiled with gore or murder" 3) Teikhesiplêtês: "Stormer of Cities / Stormer of Walls" 4) "Stormer of Cities, Destroyer of Men, Of The Golden Helmet, Blood-Stained God, Terrible One, Ally of Thémis" (Yes, this was my excuse to list as many epithets as decently possible.) 5) Ánax: "Lord, King" 6) I'm not making this up! There are a lot of depictions on ancient Greek pottery, showing Priamos' death like that, or as similarly brutal. 7) This is an actual concept: One important part of a war is the return home afterwards (Nostos). Only a triumphant return would make the victory truly complete. 8) Thalassa: The primordial personification of the sea's surface. A daughter of Aither (the bright, upper air) and Hemera (the day) and the spouse of Pontos, the primordial deep sea.

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thirdwars · 3 years

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the battle at diagon alley // dove longbottom.

Mentions/features: Longbottom family, Pippa Greengrass, Lucy Weasley, Lily Potter, Ronan Nott, Avalon Black, Roman Jugson, Susan Bones, Diomedes Avery. Triggers: violence, blood, murder. Genocide and fascism mentions.

To summarise: Dove arrived with her siblings, and they were wearing matching costumes ( greek mythology based ). She sees her father getting attacked, but because of the chaos that unfolds is unable to help but does know that Lydia helps him. Seeing Neville getting hurt makes her, well, even more ruthless, and Dove moves through the battle as a fury. She fights with Pippa who is helping Rahim, and knocks her off her feet and moves on. She also comes across Fiorella at a certain point, and the two fight side by side for a while. When she hears Lucy screaming while being hurt by Zelda, she and Lily and Ronan come to her rescue. Eventually, she and Avalon end up dueling Death Eaters together, and Dove ends up killing Roman Jugson to save Avalon’s life. After this, she gets corned by a number of Death Eaters, and Susan helps her out of that situation. She returns home post battle, where she finds no one, and then apparates to St Mungo’s where she finds the rest of her family. The day after the battle, she punches Diomedes in the nose and quits her job, which you can read about here.

THREAD 001: Pippa and Dove

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: She is wands and eyes blazing, moving through the battle as if she is a fury, thirsty for vengeance. In all truth, that is what she is. The image of her father, hurt, haunts her mind, and it feeds her anger, kindles her fire. Someone has to pay: for him, for her grandparents, for Harry, and for lack of one person to point a wand or finger to, she directs her fury to all Death Eaters. If they all want to look the same - masked, cloaked, anonymous - she will treat them all the same. When she sees a masked individual, unoccupied, she raises her wand, hardly thinking twice, "Diffindo!"

PIPPA GREENGRASS: There is so much happening. Everywhere she turns she is met with FLASHING LIGHTS and BLOOD. The air is filled with the scent of CANDYFLOSS and BURNING and she is sure this is what the END OF THE WORLD feels like. Pippa has to stop or her legs are going to give way, she’s not sure how much longer she can keep going, how much longer she can FIGHT. So she stops, just for a moment, just to catch her breath, and that’s when she hears it. She hears the spell before she sees it and her head swings round to see a FLASH OF SILVER making its way to her. ‘’deletrius!’’ She fires quickly, watching the spell disintegrate inches from her face. eyes search for the culprit. PIPPA DOESNT WANT TO HURT ANYONE, but it’s clear Dove wants to hurt her. ‘’Everte Statum!’’ She yells, hoping to knock the other backwards, if not just to escape the situation.

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: Dove doesn't listen to the voices behind the masks: they do not matter to her. Anyone who chooses – because to her, it is always a choice – to hide behind such a thing, is the same. An enemy: someone to be eliminated, if necessary. She's out for blood, and perhaps it's her confidence that keeps her from dodging the other's curse. As the impact of hit hits her, and she flies back – landing with a nasty crack – she takes a few seconds to get up, her eyes blazing more now that the other has gotten a curse in. "What, trying to get out of this, you little coward?" She's snarling, moving towards the other, feet hit-hit-hitting the ground as she casts two diffindo's after one another. She wants to draw the blood she's out for. Fury has a hold of her tongue. "Fight me, that's what you came here for, didn't you?

PIPPA GREENGRASS: Pippa watches Dove crawl back up with childlike fascination. There is so much anger behind the others eyes. She understands why, she does, and the empath in her bleeds for the Longbottom girl. A part of pippa wants to lower her wand and allow Dove to do what she pleases. To tear her open, to watch her bleed out. It would probably serve them both. But she doesn’t, she moves backwards, her arm moving quickly to block the spells, ‘’ I don’t want to fight you, Longbottom, because I don’t doubt that your duelling skills are far superior - Immobulus - to mine. Why don’t we call a truce on this duel before it gets out of hand?’’

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: She blocks the other's spell, her wand movements fluid, and as the other moves backwards, she steps forward. The others words prove what Dove thinks of the Death Eaters: that they're all either pathetic cowards willing to look away from harm, or those happily causing it. "Tough shit, 'cause I do want to fight you," she snarls. "Call a truce? Call a fucking truce?" For a moment, she forgets about curses and hexes, and lets out an incredulous laugh. "Look around you, you fucking idiot, does this look like a place to wave a white flag?" And then, her wand aims like a knife again, Dove casting stinging hex after stinging hex, relentless. "Things have already gotten out of hand, and you're to blame." Well, all Death Eaters, or maybe those at the top, but Dove thought that was all the same anyway.

PIPPA GREENGRASS: Pippa can't help but roll her eyes behind her mask at Dove’s words. She foolishly hoped she would be able to get through this battle unscathed but clearly the other seems intent on popping that bubble. As the elders words become nasty, Pippa feels her frustration grow. Over the last few months, she has been continuously mocked for her seemingly low IQ. It’s a touchy subject. ‘’ wanting to call a truce doesn’t make me a fucking idiot. I. am. not. an. Idiot.’’ Each word is punctured by the motions her arm makes to defect the string of hexes. She had to admit, Dove is a talented dueller. She wonders for a moment if they would have been put against each other had they been in the same year at school - FUCK. Always a mistake to let your mind wander, but she realises that a moment too late when she feels an invisible knife cut through the skin of her cheek. ‘’ fuck - protego!’’ It’s quick but too late. ‘’Expelliarmus!’’

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: genocide and fascism cw / She doesn't care if she hurts the other's feelings: she just wants to hurt them more. "You are, though! You are! You and your masked, cowardly friends decided to attack a fucking halloween festival, and you want to call a truce?" Her words are spat out, the violence she wants to commit on her tongue, too. "Maybe if you don't want to fight, don't be part of a genocidal band of fascists, it's really not that fucking complicated." In her black and white world, it's awfully simple, after all, and the fact that the Death Eaters hid behind masks made it all the more easier for Dove to see them all like the same. She deflects the disarming charm, which painfully reminds her of Harry, and she gets closer, closer, closer. "Fight me," she snarls, her wand aimed at the shorter Death Eater, flames curling at the tip. "Stop defending yourself and fight me, you fucking coward."

PIPPA GREENGRASS: blood tw / “to be fair, hosting a carnival in the middle of a war? What did you guys expect to happen? I’m not sure our side are the idiots in this particular situation. ’’ It’s snappy, she’s on the edge. She knows she’s wrong, of course, she does, but Dove's words cut deeper than the invisible knife. Pippa knows that she is a coward, she knows the doesn’t belong here, but she also knows she’s scared and she knows she’s being watched. So fine. If Dove wants her to fight, she will. But she won’t give in and cause the hurt the other craves. Standing straight, she fires several stinging hexes and a freezing spell for good measure. Nothing to cause any serious damage, just enough to hopefully get Dove off her back (it probably won’t.) she can feel the blood oozing from her cheek, leaking down and over chapped lips, the metallic taste filling her mouth as she tries to remain composed. She’s never been good with blood.

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: "What, you think the Order of the Phoenix wasted their precious time organising this? Any spare second we have left is mourning the people your kind has murdered. But sure, blame us for wanting some happiness amidst all the sheer terror you and your band of off-brand Death Eaters are spreaing." In all truth, Dove had thought the carnival a bad idea, and had not been in the mood. She had gone for her sisters, though, because she had to at least try to be a human being. She doesn't feel like one, though: she feels like a person assembled from fury and rage, bits of debris and fire. The leftovers of previous wars reunited. One of the stinging hexes hits her, and she winces, and then she's advancing, switching her wand to her non-wand arm. There's something poetic about hitting Death Eaters with muggle fighting, she thinks: let her dirty muddied blood move her. Her fist collapses against the mask, and it's less satisfying than hitting someone square in the nose, but she doesn't care. This Death Eater infuriates her, with their lack of fight, and she is in no way able to comprehend why they might be hesitant. She shakes her hand, relaxing her knuckles. "As if you guys need a carnival to kill. You need no reason, and it makes me sick."

THREAD 002: Pippa and Dove

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: She doesn't know if her father is okay, and it makes her want to scream. And she does. Curses and hexes leave her mouth in screams, and she is nothing but her fury. Eventually, she finds her sister, and it does nothing to still her rage: it just furthers it. "Fiorella," she says, halting a moment to look at her face. "Are you alright?" She doesn't mean in the all-encompassing sense, what she means is are you unhurt?, because no one is alright now, not emotionally at least. "Did you see what happened to dad? Stick with me." There's a raw desperation there, that shows the fear Dove feels beneath it all. "Okay?"

FIORELLA LONGBOTTOM: Fiorella has no idea what is going on, who's okay and who isn't. All she knows for certain is her father was somehow caught up in it all and all she needs is her family together. Her wand is drawn but she's still trembling slightly, only countercurses and defensive spells leaving her lips for the time being until she hears Dove's voice and stops entirely. She turns to face her sister complete, hair bouncing slightly from side to side as she shakes her head, focusing in only on what she had to say about their father. "Did you see him? Are you okay?"

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: She casts a protego charm after pulling Fiorella near a wall, hidden in the shadows for a bit. Dove has no interest in taking a break, but this deserves one. "He got - he'll be fine. He got hit by something, but he's gonna be fine, yeah?" It's not a promise she can make, but she'll carry the burden of being wrong if she has to. "I'm fine, I'm fine." She is, mostly. She feels like she's made for this, for this chaos unfurling in front of her, and it should concern her, but it doesn't just yet. "You're not hurt, are you?"

FIORELLA LONGBOTTOM: she pressed herself even closer to Dove's side, glancing out at the chaos around them before looking back towards her sister, feeling as though her heart dropped to her stomach. "What if he's not? What if they hurt him and he's not okay?" she looks up at her, taking a shaky breath. "I'm okay. Or I will be as long as everyone else is. I can't promise in that case I won't do anything stupid."

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: She can't think such things. If she starts to think about the possibility of her father being dead, she'll lose it, she's sure. "He'll be okay, Lydia took care of him, and Ginny. We can't do anything about it now, Fi," she says, stroking her sister's face for a moment. How strange, that she can still be soft despite it all. "Don't do anything stupid, okay? Leave that to your big sister."

FIORELLA LONGBOTTOM: She nodded silently, less out of assurance he would be okay, but a need for their family to come out of tonight unharmed. They all had to be okay, she couldn't handle any other alternative. "Lyd and Ginny will make sure he's fine. We're all fine, yeah?" She agreed softly, laughing despite everything coming down around them. "If I'm not allowed to do anything stupid you aren't either."

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: She nods at that. Any other time, she would have her bitterness seep through and say no, we won't be, because that is the truth. But now, she thinks Fi can use a white lie, a bit of faith. "We will be. It'll have to end, sometime, right?" Dove looks at Fiorella, a bit incredulous and amused too, despite it all. "I've never done anything stupid in my life, ever." She nudges her, and then looks over her shoulder at her protection charm. "Stick with me, okay?"

THREAD 003: Avalon and Dove

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: It's like fate, the way the two crash into each other. "Avalon," says Dove, her voice forceful. "Hurt?" That's all she says, the chaos surrounding them too much to catch up properly. Hex after curse leaves her wand, some of them darker magic than the other, as she ends up side-to-side with her friend, her roommate. Together, they could be invincible, she thinks, and a grin almost creeps on her lips as they seem to have the upper hand. "Let's get these fuckers together, yeah? Show 'em what we're fucking made of."

AVALON BLACK: in all of the chaos avalon was grateful to end up side by side with dove. "no, you?" she replied. when the attack started avalon hadn't wasted any time to start throwing hexes back at the masked cowards. avalon felt no shame in fighting dirty, she knew the death eater's didn't. her and dove made a good team, neither one of them holding back any punches. "fuck yeah."

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: "Unscathed." Physically, that is. She feels a boost of confidence from being with Avalon, the two of them so in tune, and she hardly needs to look at the other to know she's okay. Her wand moved in quick succession, dodging curses and sending new ones, ruthless in every sense of the word. She wants to hurt them, wants to damage them like they have damaged her and her family.

AVALON BLACK: avalon fought like she had something to prove. she wanted to make her parents, and her godfather proud. the three of them had dedicated their lives to fighting the evil that was the death eaters and avalon was ready to do the same. she felt like she could conquer the world with dove by her side. the quidditch player was smug as she continued to dodge curses. she sends them back just as quickly as they're sent at her. "on your left!" avalon yells to dove, over the noise as she spotted a wand pointed at her roommate.

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: Dove hasn't doubted herself most tonight - she, creature of confidence and fury - but with Avalon on her side she feel invincible. They are a machine, two pairs of eyes and two skilled wand arms dueling. Avalon's words register immediately and Dove turns, wand at the ready. A curse heads her way - she doesn't know what, but what does it matter? - and she deflects it, but only just. "Thanks," she yells back, her eyes focused on her new opponent, well aware that Avalon might've just saved her.

THREAD 004: Susan and Dove

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: Dove does not like to be helped, but as more masked figures than she can defend herself from corner her, she knows she need it. Fear climbs in her chest, wand lashing out to dodge curses and cast shields, but she's surrounded, being backed up to a storefront. She knows why, the way she stepped over the body of the Death Eater she killed still fresh in her memory. For a slight second, she allows her eyes to travel past the masked faces, her focus faltering. And then, she sees her - "Susan!" Her call is close to desperate, and she hears one of the masked figures chuckle, her fury building in her stomach once more. It's acidic, but she knows it's worth nothing if she is dead. A spell hits her, slicing at her leg and she curses, refocusing on those in front of her, not knowing for sure if Susan has heard her, but holding out hope as if it's all she has left.

SUSAN BONES: the screams and cries of battle play on loop in her head, even while moving through deserted parts of the neighborhood. she's trained for this before, when she was barely fifteen and now. she's seen war and felt war but not a battle, not yet. the small cuts on her face and the shaking of her entire body made the woman look victim like and did not show the amount of enemies she'd left behind, holding onto breaking skin or burnt pain. for a moment she swears her name echoes in the explosions, stopping mid breath, something familiar - it takes some seconds for the reality to set in, and when it does, she searches almost frantically for the source. holding onto the wall of the building she's hiding behind, voices get clearer, curses and pain get louder. one, two, three... off her want shoot spells in rapid succession, a couple wand repelling ones hit. "protego!" susan moves closer, eyes and wands partly focused on the new threat. with dove in the corner of her view, something scared grew in susan, something fiery. "i got you." her eyes stop on dove for just a moment, forcing a thin and beyond short lived smile on her lips before the woman turned around and with a pointed wand casted a non verbal expulso on the ground beneath two masked enemies between them, their bodies sent flying and slamming into the buildings around them. perhaps she could be ruthless after all

DOVE LONGBOTTOM: She's here she's here she's here. Dove has tasted death tonight, but not her own, and she is not planning on tasting that any time soon. She is a creature of fury, worth something only when her heart beats loudly. "Thank you," she says, her voice tense, her wand moving faster than her mind, spell after spell leaving her wand. She's glad for Susan, for her sheer talent with a wand, and she almost wants to pause to look at her. As the other casts an expulso and the bodies fly, Dove looks at her though, in awe, before returning to the job at hand. She stuns one of the Death Eaters, his body dropping ( she thinks of the masked man who had fallen, quite similarly, but in a more definitive way ), and feels relief, relief, relief spread through her and something like victory too. She's grinning, then, her fear replaced by adrenaline and glory, and perhaps that's not the wisest but Dove has never been wise to start with. "You're fucking amazing, Susan," she says inbetween spells, eyes flicking to her aunt as the two seem to gain the upper hand.

#* dove. ( fiorella. )#* dove. ( avalon. )#* dove. ( susan. )#* dove. ( pippa. )#* plotdrop. ( the battle. )#* dove. ( replies. )

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curupiracue · 5 years

Text

The Reporter’s Crows, and a Truth-seeking Deception

Sigh…

Couldn’t find anyone, huh…

“Hm. I wonder what Nim is doing?”

Though I wonder, I can likely guess… Probably “fooling around” (I mean, it’s studying, but even that is fooling around given the circumstances), and that is assuming he is awake already… Yeaahhh… Probably not.

I mean, it’s pretty handy for me that he is such a sleepyhead, even if I don’t sleep that much… But still.

Sigh…

Crááá!

“Huh? That a crow?”

Hmmm… A crow, huh... No way. I’m just overthinking things. ...But then again, when Nim was rambling about this city, didn’t he mention all the bird species living on the region? He didn’t mention crows at all, so unless this is someone’s pet...

“I mean, it’s my pet, you know.”

Oh, great.

“That has got to be rudest “hello” ever.” I say, turning around to face her.

“You live and travel alongside that sorry excuse for a human being. Thought you’d have heard worst by now.” Not towards me, at least. That’s what I think of saying, but she turns her attention to the crow and cuts me off “Oh hey there, Jesus! Any news?”

“Uh, you have a crow named Jesus?” some random guy passing by asked.

“Well, what would you name a crow?”

“Uh, I dunno’... Bob, birdie, blackey, Shadow’s Night?”

“You’re boring. Get out of my sight.” And so the man did, feeling humiliated and intimidated.

“Poor guy…”

“Pff. Anyway, it looks like Jesus has nothing to report… you can keep flying, dearie!” With that, the crow went off flying.

“...How many of those things do you have?”

“100. But I only treat 10 of them as pets, else, I would get saddened with their deaths.” I wonder if she meant more or less a 100, or precisely that number, but I quickly abandon the train of thought. I didn’t much care for that. More importantly…

“Well, I don’t really like seeing you here. If you and Nim meet, I’m afraid one or the other will end up dead.”

“Why! How insulting… I think it’s pretty clear who would die in such a confrontation...”

“Yeah, you.”

She glared at me. ...Best not to provoke her too much. She’s way stronger than I am, after all. Even if her power is directed less towards combat.

“Sigh, this isn’t to the point though. More importantly, though I don’t like seeing you here, I think you might actually be needed. We’re having trouble making any progress with so few clues to go by.”

“Well, that’s obvious. Even more obvious, is that, given some time, I could find the serial killer. Or, rather, I WILL find ‘em. Now the question is… If it is so, then why the hell should I ally myself with you guys?”

“Well, you showed up… you must have had a reason for that. Unless that reason was just mocking me.”

“Yup, that’s it actually~”

Now was my turn to glare at her.

“Hahahahah! Gee, chill. Even I’m not about to stand by and let such a fucked up murderer get away. And though I could do it by myself, I’d better get some allies. ...Even if these allies include an asshole.”

“Yeah. You’re birds of a feather.”

“...Correction. TWO assholes. I’ll be going now... Should anything come up I’ll contact you (alone, preferably hundreds of meters away from you-know-who)” She started walking away, but with with a certain air that convinced me she had more to say. Though I wasn’t sure if I should, I stayed put waiting.

Turns out, I was right.

“Oh yeah, and that guy who passed by and talked shit about Jesus totally wanted to bone you. You should go right ahead, since you and Mr. I-should-die-soon are not a thing yet, somehow. Ok, now really, be seeing you!”

...Totally not gonna’ do that NOW.

(sigh) I’d better get going. Nim couldn’t possibly be still sleeping. ...Maybe.

Well, I needed a walk to get my thoughts in order anyway, so…

Wims Fourth. A journalist who took on various cases and researched all sorts of weird incidents to try and get good material. She’s generally pretty neutral, which alongside with her unpleasant personality makes her hard to work with… but, those things are just minor impediments. If they weren’t, well, there wouldn’t be any sort of cooperation or friendship in this mental world. No, the real problem is her mutual grudge with Nim.

As for why they hate each other so much, well, that’s a long story. So much so, that I haven’t heard all of the details yet. Suffice it to say though, that although they’re both surprisingly reasonable for jerks, that reasonable goes out the window when they’re together. I wasn’t joking when I told her that one of them might do something they would regret when together.

But in spite of that, it’s good that she got involved. She’s clever, and her genius brings along some powerful utility constructions as well: apart from secret police crows, she can also summon film tape of a person’s memories and rapidly look through them. Since the construction needs to sneak into someone’s mind to take the information from there before copying it and bringing it to her, you can theoretically block it, but… it’s not like she’s erasing the memories or tampering with them in any way. She’s just sneaking inside and walking quietly, basically. Since it’s so sneaky, and simple enough she can focus on making it even more sneaky, you’d need to be much stronger than her to even detect it, let alone block it.

I don’t think there’s anyone who fits the bill. Not even Nim or that serial killer.

So, in other words, there’s a door right in front of me.

...Wait, I think I got lost in thought. Almost ran face-first on the door.

“Huh? Yo, Novalue, you here?” Nim “said” through a psychic message.

“Sure am” I send in response.

“...You didn’t ran face-first on the door, now, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Then, did you almost do that?”

“Of course not. I just got surprised because I suddenly remembered I wanted to buy some donuts, is all.” I lie spontaneously but carefully

Suddenly Nim opens the door.

...Holding a wallet.

“Oh, ok~ Sorry for thinking bad of you. Also, you left your wallet home, dumbass! Documents aren’t important because the police is made of weak shits, but what would you do if you wanted to buy something?!”

I take the wallet, and enter.

“Soooo~ anything to report?”

“I met Wims.”

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

Suddenly, I feel like grabbing a few knives and going all Adam Lanza. No, but it was guns… Nim, you FUCKING DUMBASS!

Anyway.

“Did you tell her to go die?”

“‘Afraid it would have the opposite effect.”

“Should have called me then~ I could be the Diomedes to your Nestor~”

“Do I really have to be Nestor…?”

“Huh? Well… Achilleus to Patroklus?”

“Wait, I’d be dead then.”

I clasped my hands and smiled with malice:

“Your corpse is worthy a rescue~”

“...So, anyway. About Wims...” Suddenly, I got in a bad mood.

“Yeah, yeah I know. Just don’t go about expecting too much, yes?” Novalue was about to speak, but I shot him a discreet glare, and complemented the “shut the fuck up” with additional flow of information “More pressingly, let’s go take a look at the police files again! There ought to be a few left, né?!”

“You just want to take a look at the files again, don’t you?”

“Nein...”

“(sigh) Fine, let’s go.”

We walked towards the precinct without a care in the world. But who needs care when you have style? Surely the passerby were gazing at our mutual beauty with much envy~!

Upon getting there though...

“Wait, you’re the ones from yester- yes, of course we can provide the files for usage. Also, Nim, you’re the greatest that has ever lived: I can’t even imagine how one might surpass your fundamentally lofty and superior existence.”

Novalue gave me a glare. Well, maybe not a glare, but a Novalue glare. Most people would think he was feeling sleepy or some shit

“Nim. That last part was unnecessary.”

“Whatever moooom!” I replied, waltzing and skipping towards our destination. I suddenly stopped, however, as if remembering something.

“Então tipo, hey, Novalue! Can you tipo, like, uh, go ahead and shtuff? I need to do something here first~” Novalue looked at me with distrust:

“You’re not gonna’ do something awful now, are you?”

“By the love of the T bearded idiot crow Novalue! Have some more trust in me, yeah?! I feel like a train going to a station full of passengers wantingtogotoanotheroneandexpecti-AHHHHHH” I inhale “Ugh, fuck, I couldn’t say all of it at once. POINT IS. You should trust me more!” I finish with a pout.

“That, however, doesn’t answer the question.”

“No, I’m not gonna do anything awful.”

That seemed to convince him. Hey, I wasn’t lying! I was about to do something justified, not awful.

“Heeey, Mr. Guaaaard~”

“Huh? I’m not a guard, technically, and I do have a name you kn-”

“Oh golly. The magic trick wore off, great. (sigh) Individuality is wasted on you, not gonna’ lie. I mean, the same can be said about me, but… Mmmm, I’m awesome and you’re not. So, whatever you. Is what I’d say, or just think. But, ya’ know. Uh, not sure how much you actually remember from yesterday, since I wasn’t the one on memory-wiping duty, buuuut. I, the great ME am still with my memories intact~”

“Memories…? Ah! Then, you must be the one alongside that fagg-”

Suddenly, his body feels light and his head is slammed at the table. Totally not by me.

“YOU DAMN PIECE OF SHIT! YOU MESSING WITH ME, HUH?! YOU’D BETTER START THANKING ME FOR SHOVING YOUR HEAD INTO THE SURFACE OF THIS TABLE, ‘CAUSE IF I HADN’T SHOVED YOUR HEAD INTO THE SURFACE OF THIS TABLE AND INSTEAD ALLOWED YOU TO FINISH THAT WORD, YOU’D BE FACING REPERCUSSIONS OF A WHOLE OTHER LEVEL!” I threw his body back into the chair “YOU DAMN WASTEFUL SACK OF MEAT!” I turn my gaze to a mug of coffee alongside it’s ingredients “Oooh, coffee.”

“Man, coffee sure is bitter. I can’t take mine without tons of sugar. Generally, if I am to make coffee, it’s for Novalue, so I’m more experienced with making black coffee, though. Here, lemme’ make some.” I add in enough coffee for it to become saturated “Ah, whooops. Maybe a teeeensy bit to much.” I throw the sugar at the floor “won’t be needing that. Let your family feast on it. Now, say “aaaaah!””

“aaaaah!? GuulphgMMMM!”

“Theeeeere weee... go.” with a jerk of my hand, I break the mug on his mug, cutting just the right amount of flesh, before pushing his chair to it’s limits and making him fall to the ground.

Pom.

“Ouch, that looked like it hurt. But see, you could have broken something. If we had met, say, an year back, you definitely would have. Which reminds me, I’ll be taking this key.” I pick up the key for the emergency exit “Wait, I didn’t beat you that bad… I’ll be leaving this key.” I put the key back on his pocket. Would be bad if someone got trapped and they needed it… Though that’s not the reason I did this, it’s just that I realized Novalue wouldn’t much mind this.

Speaking of him…

“Yo! Novalue, I’m coming~”

I open the door and find him looking through some documents. He then looks at me, seeming bored and closes the file.

(The prism spins, and senseless light is reflected with a different sense)

Well, he sure took his time… can’t trust him to have kept that promise. Not that I much care. I close the file.

“It’s no use. Honestly, I’m thinking the killer must have some sort of connection to the police: sure, accessing the file wouldn’t be a problem regardless, but in order to be this through… if not a policeman, then maybe a lawyer or a judge.”

“Seems likely. I’m, uhh, guessing you didn’t find anything?”

“Nope.” I went to store the file away. “This whole trip is seeming useless to me… Maybe we should visit the regist-?”

“Hm? Whazis’?” Nim interrupts me, picking a file.

“What’s with that file?”

“Dunno’. Felt a little ajar to me, though I’m not sure why...” Hmm… though he alternates between not trusting it and boasting it to the point of unreasonability, Nim has a remarkable intuition. Might as well see where it leads. “Sebhbos Mmsseptnote? Ugh. Just looking at the photo disgusts me. Wonder if he was some jerk I met and forgot?”

“...I really doubt you’d forget something like this.”

“Tee hee~ Weeelll. Even for my most grand majesty, it could be possible… have I met him as a child, perchance?”

“Well, is it anything interesting?”

“Nah. He visited this city a long time ago. So not much is said. Doubt it’s him we’re looking for.”

“...If you say so… In that case, let’s look some more”

“Yes, captain!”

(Time passes...)

Well, today was an useless day. Every day felt like one, but this one actually was.

...And to top it all off, it seems Nim has no intention of letting me sleep.

“Wake up. Up up up.”

“Ugh...” I wanted to ask what time it was, but I had no energy to do it. Luckily, Nim was able to guess:

“4:14 and 57 seconds. Figured this time would be safest. Now get your head out of that pillow: I’m pretty damn cranky that I couldn’t have my intelligence sleep.”

“Mmm… safest?” I ask, still refusing to let go of the pillow.

“Yes. Thing is, that serial killer has been following us all day.”

“What…?” the news remove a bit of my sleepiness, but far from all of it; I am, however, now alert enough.

“It started with a bad feeling… so I decided to try searching using the Mental World, as well as paying close attention to everyone around us, though never actually intentionally doing it. And guess what, though I couldn’t see him well, nor properly identify him, there was always this sharply-dressed, thirty-something blonde man around, as well as a constant presence of a monstrous power that, although contained, I eventually identified as being his...”

“Before anything else… how powerful is he?”

“About… as powerful as me. ...P-Probably superior”

Huh… that makes him way more powerful than I am. Well, whatever. About Nim though...

“Don’t get anxious about it. First of all, there is an age discrepancy. Secondly, he probably doesn’t have much combat experience… or any sort of on-the-field experience with the Mental World. And finally… I’m here with you.”

He reacted simultaneously well and unwell, but didn’t complain. Probably because it was more of the former than the latter, and he was too sleepy for that.

“Well… So, about the plan.”

“Yes?”

“Basically...”

#stories #Mywhatamentalworld

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frickengreenfrickyeah · 6 years

Text

An Irreverent Intro to the Iliad

A/N:I’ve taken the introduction to the Lombardo translation and condensed it. Any time I says something to the effect of “don’t quote me on this” that means I’ve added my own analysis or thoughts that I cannot back up in any way, so don’t, like, put it in an essay if you don’t plan on doing your own research.

Anyway, you don’t care about that stuff, you came here to read about the Iliad.

It’s really fricken long, so, for the sake of mobile users, everything’s under the cut except for this:

“Rage. Bitch, lemme tell you about the time that Achilles fucked over the entire Greek army by Rage-quitting.”

Timeline for the Noobs

Ten years ago:

Aphrodite bribes Paris so she can win a beauty contest between herself, Athena, and Hera. Paris’ reward for his ‘heroics’ is Helen

(There’s probably an essay’s worth of symbolism you could dig into here, what with the goddesses all representing different priorities: erotic love, wisdom/justice, and familial duty. I wonder what Paris’ choice reveals about his character?)

There’s some disagreement about whether or not Helen when with Paris willingly

Seeing as literally no other woman in the Iliad (and maybe the entire Cycle? Don’t quote me on that) willingly went with her kidnapper, I’m calling bull on that. Do with that what you will.

Menelaus gets really mad that Paris stole his wife, so he rounds up the Greek army, and they go to war. (It’s worth noting that Athena and Hera are both on his side here.)

Present day:

Agamemnon(Boo), Menelaus’ brother kidnaps a girl. Then he has the balls to get upset that the girl’s father called Apollo’s plague down upon the Greeks until she’s returned

Achilles points out that Agamemnon’s being a dick and people are literally dying because he won’t let go of one girl. Agamemnon says, “Fine. If I have to give up my lady-war-prize, I’m taking yours as recompense.”

Achilles allows Agamemnon to take his girl, then Rage-quits. As consequence, people die.

Hypocrites. Hypocrites everywhere. If you wanna analyze that for an essay, I think there’s plenty to talk about.

The Theme Worth Giving a Shit About (Because it Drives the Narrative)

Heroes risk their lives on the battlefield in exchange for Prizes

Ie. riches, bitches, and clout

Honor <--> Shame is how they judge the value of others and themselves. Honor wins Prizes, Shame loses Prizes

3 Characters Worth Giving a Shit About (Because They Explore the Aforementioned Theme)

Achilles: Main character. Rage is his thing. Also, pouting.

His honor is insulted by Agamemnon(Boo) taking away Briseis, his lady war prize. Since war prizes are how their society rewards heroes for risking their lives, Agamemnon is basically saying he doesn’t care of Achilles dies or not.

And that hurts Achilles’ feelings because he knows he’s gonna die. There’s a prophecy about it.

The only reason he’s fighting is because society conditioned him to believe that Prizes and eternal glory were worth dying for.

Now that he doubts everything he knows, he refuses to fight for the Greeks.

The entire poem is the consequences of his Rage-quit

Agamemnon: fuck this guy

He loses his lady war prize, so he takes Achilles’. Because short-sighted spite is the best motivator.

He and Achilles start the poem in the same place, believing that material goods should equally compensate a loss. Achilles is the one who learns that that’s not how that works.

Agamemnon starts as a dick and ends as a dick. Google Iphigenia if you want to learn more. And that shit he pulls with Cassandra? Major dickbag. Fuck this guy.

Hector: The Trojan hero, and honestly the only likable guy here.

He is Achilles’ foil.

Just like Achilles, he’s separated from society - but, unlike Achilles, it’s not because he rejects their values. It’s because he never questions them.

He’s basically the perfect hero, and he suffers for it:

His son is scared of his war helmet

He can’t stay closer to home to fight defensively because that’s ‘shameful’

And he can’t even stay in the city that long on his breaks because wine and women are too tempting.

Side Characters to Maybe Give a Fuck About

Patroclus: The most important of the supporting cast, and he’s only in it for, like, maybe a book

Achilles’ BFF and probably more

(Read: Definitely more. If you listen carefully, you can hear me chanting OTP OTP OTP every time you open your book.)

He is Achilles’ double

He never doubts society but supports his bestie’s midlife crisis anyway

His death at the hands of Hector symbolizes Achilles’ death because he was wearing Achilles’ armor at the time

Achilles causes Patroclus’ death btw

When he Rage-quits, he asks Zeus to help the Trojans (because short-sighted spite is the best motivator). Patroclus goes to help the Greeks wearing Achilles’ very recognizable armor, causing Hector to target and kill him

His death redirects Achilles’ Rage at the Trojans instead of the Greeks

Diomedes: a badass fighter

Greater Ajax: a badass fighter

and (I think) the guy who talks sense into Achilles at some point

Ajax the Lesser: a badass fighter (are you sensing a theme in these characters?)

Odysseus: the only smart guy here

The Odyssey is about him btw

The Trojan horse was his idea, according to the Aeneid (and maybe other places? But definitely the Aeneid.)

WTF is an Epic Poem Anyway?

Epic Poem: recounts events with far-reaching historical consequences, sums up the values and achievements of an entire culture, and documents the full variety of the war

Basically, if “’Murica, Fuck Yeah” sums up America, then the Iliad sums up Ancient Greece

(Actually, Hamilton is a better comparison, but I needed to make a joke. Fite me.)

That “full variety” thing is why Book 2 and a couple other places just list off a bunch of ships or leaders and their dads. That shit is boring. Skip it.

But also, that ‘full variety’ thing is what makes other parts of the story so interesting. Homer will sum up a dude’s life story right before he kills them or some shit. It magnifies the scale of the narrative by showing how insignificant one person’s experience is - no one person can stop the war.

That’s what makes Achilles’ story even more powerful --> because his impact on the war is significant. His Rage controls the ebb and flow of it.

He can’t stop the war though. No one can.

The Gods are Petty as Fuck

Homeric gods look/act like humans, but they’re different mainly because of two things:

1. They can’t die.

That means they treat the events of the war less seriously than the mortals do.

2. The gods know about fate

To the modern reader, it seems like the humans have no agency, but that’s not really the case

Knowing fate is a bit like knowing the plot of a movie. It gives insight into a character’s actions that would otherwise seem random.

By reading this poem, you’re basically a god. Don’t let it go to your head. (But, hey, there’s a reason I’m majoring in this shit)

Bards like Homer would more directly be gods because they changed and adapted the story as they told it, just like the gods influence human actions in the story.

Don't quote me on that tho

Character choices are usually doubly motivated - by the human, and by the gods

Ex: Achilles chooses not to kill Agamemnon because Athena tells him not to.

This is personifying the literal thought process he had so that the reader understands what’s going through his head.

Fate doesn’t force anyone to act out of character --> fate is the consequence of their life choices

The gods not caring about death and his own lack of foresight is what Achilles messes up on

He asks Zeus to help him get revenge on the Greeks because he assumes Zeus cares about that sort of thing, but Zeus is bigger than that.

That leads Patroclus’ death, btw.

The “Enduring Heart” Shit

Achilles is really butthurt that Agamemnon wronged him

The lesson he has to learn is that even if material goods can’t make up for losses, there’s no other option --> you can’t bring people back from the dead, so you have to move on

That’s the Enduring Heart shit

also, if you abstract that concept it sounds kinda like entropy to me (Don’t quote me on that tho)

He learns that lesson by feeling pity for Priam (Hector’s dad) instead of perpetuating the Rage Train

And, hey, that Enduring Heart shit is a lesson that all of us could take to heart. None of us want to die, but it’s gonna happen. Maybe that’s not fair, but throwing a temper tantrum isn’t going to change anything. Really, the only way to avoid being miserable is to embrace our mortality so we can appreciate life while we have it

don’t quote me on that tho

In a nutshell, Achilles has to accept his mortal-ness. Otherwise there’s a lot of unnecessary suffering.

That’s why we don’t need to see him die in the Iliad even though everyone makes such a big deal about the prophecy about his death. His journey was completed as soon as he found pity in himself instead of Rage - essentially rejecting the godly side of himself (oh yeah, I forgot to mention. His mom is a goddess) and embracing his mortality.

because gods don’t have to deal with death, they can Rage all they want, remember?

Also, if he never dies, he can’t be reunited with Patroclus.

OTP OTP OTP

You could probably write an essay about how Achilles died as soon as Patroclus did.

Honestly Boring Historical Context (That might be interesting if you’re a nerd like me?

The poem was basically historical fantasy even when it was first written. There are gods and super strength and shit

Greek History Over-Simplified: The Mycanaean Period was prosperous but ended suddenly. The Dark Ages of Greece followed, and we don’t know much about what happened during that because they forgot the written word was a thin.

The events of the poem probably take place during the Mycanaean Period because they use bronze weapons.

But warfare is described from more of a Dark Ages perspective. Like, they don’t use chariots the right way

Which suggests that chariots were part of the source material, then the Dark Ages made people forget how they were supposed to be sued, so the bards just kinda made shit up to explain their presence. (Don’t quote me on that tho)

The Oral Tradition of the poem means that this story was told thousands of times over hundreds (thousands?) of years. So the narrative is hones at shit.

it has the sculpted body of an Olympic athlete. Each muscle toned to do a specific job and everything works perfectly together to accomplish the sporty feat of interest. Every verse is packed with character, setting, plot, and cultural significance

Except for that Catologue of Ships shit. Boooo boring ships.

There were probably lots of other versions of the poem, but Homer told it best. His version was written down as soon as the written word was (re)invented

Side Note that wasn’t in Lombardo’s Intro

The Iliad and Odyssey are both parts of a larger body of work known as the Epic Cycle

(The Aeneid is basically Caesar Augustus-insert fanfiction at that, btw. Virgil was a satirical fanboy and I’m living for it.)

Characters and events are introduced with the assumptions that the reader already knows their importance

But we only have fragments of the rest of the Cycle today because it was either never written down or the manuscripts were lost

I’m looking at you, Burned Library of Alexandria

*sad fiddle music plays in the background

Videos That I Learned Shit From (Only, like, the first two links are relevant to the topic at hand, btw)

Basic Plot: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=faSrRHw6eZ8

More about the Epic Cycle: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3bn0eKt4Rw

Iphigenia: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifFsKCrH3GM

Oresteia: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9kpGhivh05k

The Odyssey: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-3rHQ70Pag&index=4&list=PLDb22nlVXGgfwG1qbOtNgu897E_ky_8To (Also, this story is my favorite of the Epic Cycle)

The Aeneid: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRruBVFXjnY&list=PLDb22nlVXGgfwG1qbOtNgu897E_ky_8To&index=5

Ancient Greek History: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mzGVpkYiJ9w&index=2&list=PLDb22nlVXGgexsbafIwirG6Tk9uww9dSW

And, yeah, these videos are all from the same channel. I’m a basic bitch and a ho for not leaving my comfort zone. Fite me.

Honestly, if anyone has other sources, let me know. Youtube history/video essays are my shit.

I hope this was helpful.

#iliad #literature #irreverent synopsis #i really like green but thats not the topic at hand #epic cycle #Achilles #Achilles and Patroclus forever #intro to the iliad

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kashuan · 7 years

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In which I finally write a long ass post about all my grievances with the never ending shenanigans I see in the Iliad tag because I can’t take it anymore and needed to get it out tbh

Things y’all really need to stop doing, in no particular order: • Treating Clytemnestra like a Bad Bitch Feminist Icon #goals because she killed a character you don’t like. Know what she also was? Pretty hypocritical. Half her motive for killing Agamemnon is the mistreatment of their daughter, but guess what, Clytemnestra then goes on to treat 2/3 of her remaining children pretty much like shit. I suppose you could consider Electra to be an unreliable narrator in terms of her relating how coldly she was treated at home, but the facts don’t lie in that Cly let her new hubby Aegisthus pass Electra off to be married to some peasant so that she and her children would die without any power and wouldn’t be able to take revenge. It’s pretty indisputable though that her treatment of her son Orestes was flat out terrible. As a child, Orestes has to go into exile, as it’s implied Aegisthus would have had him killed otherwise. Cly just Lets This Happen. When Orestes returns to murder both her and Aegisthus as instructed by Apollo, Clytemnestra entreats him with a set of pretty flimsy excuses. Here’s a part from The Libation Bearers:

CLYTAEMESTRA Have you no regard for a parent's curse, my son?

ORESTES You brought me to birth and yet you cast me out to misery.

CLYTAEMESTRA No, surely I did not cast you out in sending you to the house of an ally.

ORESTES I was sold in disgrace, though I was born of a free father. CLYTAEMESTRA Then where is the price I got for you? ORESTES I am ashamed to reproach you with that outright.

Furthermore, she attempts to manipulate Orestes by entreating him to spare her because she is his mother, the one who nursed him, yet we know that this wasn’t actually done by her, and since a young age she has been completely absent in his life otherwise. When Orestes finally does kill her, this girl cannot even let it go at that but essentially makes sure he’s haunted by demons for the rest of his life. Talk about #petty, not even Agamemnon took it that far. So this character who's set up as like Badass Mama Bear is actually….not. Post Iphigenia at Aulis Clytemnestra is actually pretty self-serving, but not in the sort of way that should be admired. I think Clytemnestra is a great flawed character. Please no more ‘my perfect queen deserved better’ posts. I’m beggin’ ya. Read more than a summary of like 1/4th of her history and then let’s talk. • So I’m gonna follow this up with my long stewing Agamemnon Apologist rant (you: yikes me: Buckle Up). I’d like to begin this by saying we can all definitely agree that this man is a garbageboy stinkman. No arguing that. I love a good ‘Agamemnon is an asshole’ joke as much as the next guy. HOWEVER, when, when will I be free from posts that act like this character is honestly so completely one dimensional, that jokes about it comprise literally 98% of the tag. Where are the actually interesting meta posts that consider things about him beyond JUST being a dumpster of a man. For example, we know he was at least a half-decent bro. In book 4 of the Iliad, Menelaus basically scrapes his knee and Agamemnon essentially calls a T.O. on the entire war because HIS BROTHER, OK!!! Like yeah, he also includes a hilariously selfish line in that part that Menelaus can’t bite it because then he will be disgraced when he goes home, but the point stands. Further evidence of these having a tight relationship can be found in the Iphigenia at Aulis play. After the two of them have had a savage as hell argument about whether or not to sacrifice Iphigenia, taking some serious pot shots at each other, they have this exchange

MENELAUS I’ve changed, and I’ve changed because I love you, brother. I’ve changed because of my love for my mother’s son. It’s a natural thing for men with decent hearts to do the decent thing. AGAMEMNON I praise you, Menelaus for these unexpected words, proper words, words truly worthy of you. Brothers fight because of lust and because of greed in their inheritance. I hate such relationships; they bring bitter pain to all.

I think Agamemnon’s relationship with Menelaus is actually one of the more interesting ones among the cast because he is both in a way protective yet also very controlling of his brother. Here and Here are a couple of fantastic essays on their dynamic and the way it differs from source to source. While on the subject of the play Iphigenia at Aulis and my favorite problematic fav getting the short end of the stick from fandom, can I just say that the majority of retellings, posts, and so on about this particular event ARE TERRIBLE? I’m so tired of seeing it depicted as though Agamemnon just killed his daughter like some afterthought, possibly while twirling his mustache like a cartoon villain. There is so, SO much more nuance to that scene and it kills the man when I see how no one ever discusses it in favor of just saying lol Agamemnon’s a dick, so anyway. Iphigenia herself is actually one of the best sources we have for the fact Agamemnon probably had more than a grand total of zero good traits. The relationship between the two is obviously a very close one and on the whole we get the sense that, aside from the whole killing his daughter thing (ya) he was actually a good dad. Like an inverse Clytemnestra :,). The scene where Iphigenia first speaks with Agamemnon is particularly telling of what was probably their normal relationship. IPHIGENIA What’s wrong, daddy? You say you’re happy to see me but your face looks worried! AGAMEMNON A king, darling, a General is always worried. IPHIGENIA Make your worries go away, daddy. From now on, think only of me. AGAMEMNON Yes, my darling. I shall think of nothing else but you from now on IPHIGENIA Well then, get rid of this ugly frown from the face that I love so much! AGAMEMNON There! Oh, what a joy it is to see you, Iphigeneia! IPHIGENIA But… but look at you, father! Full of joy and yet tears flow from your eyes…AGAMEMNON Yes, dear… because our separation will be a long one.

Is he still a completly awful man for having sacrificed her? Yes. Completely. But here’s a few factors that play into this decision that I never see anyone, ever, mention: -It is Agamemnon’s intention to send Iphigenia away, to save herself, at the last minute, but Menelaus intercepts the letter meant to warn her of her fate. -Charismatic Odysseus has a good deal of control over the soldiers at this point and was probably looking to further increase his popularity among them (a consistent theme-- see: when he’s ready to shank his bff Diomedes just to be the only one to bring home a trophy from Troy instead of both of them). One can imply that if Agamemnon didn’t go through it, he would have done it himself -- and Agamemnon knew that (he mentions as much). -Gods are terrifying, my dudes. Treating it as though he could have just said ‘naw’ to Artemis’ order for Iphigenia’s death and gone home expresses a pretty fundamental lack of understanding how the Greeks feared the gods and just what the stakes likely already were by that point. Artemis was already pissed that he killed one of her sacred deer so it wasn’t as though she was just like ‘you can either sacrifice your daughter or go home unscathed’. I’ve only seen one other retelling accurately capture what very likely would have happened if Agamemnon didn’t go through with it: Artemis likely would have retaliated at the disrespect against the men and probably his family. Furthermore, the soldiers had already been stranded at Aulis for months on end-- a mutiny was exceedingly likely if they found out what was going on, one in which where they probably would have harmed not only him but also Clytemnestra and baby Orestes who came with Iphigenia. These two facts are more conjecture, but it’s a pretty plausible estimate and I’ve seen several scholarly essays arrive at the same conclusion. If you’d actually like to see a depiction of Agamemnon that is both incredibly sympathetic yet does not shy away either from showing how terrible what he did was, please watch the 1977 Iphigenia movie. One of my favorite movies in general. Honestly I feel I could make a giant essay out of My Feelings on this particular subject alone so I’ll wrap it now because I have a lot of other stuff I want to get to, though I’ll include one final pet peeve: the amount of people who call Agamemnon trash because he was Sexist. You know who else was a Meninist? Every single goddamn man in ancient Greece. Okay, I’ll give a pass to characters like Patroclus and Hector when it comes to the women front because all we see is them being pretty decent. But like. Otherwise??? Sure, just because everyone is that way doesn’t make it any less shitty-- I’m not arguing that. But it’s also like reading a novel focused on an entire group of mobsters, but calling out only one of them as Problematic for being a criminal. Like, my dudes... TL;DR: Agamemnon is a dick jokes are funny and completely deserved but throw in a few posts here and there that actually suggest you might have read more than just Book 1 of the Iliad and nothing else. Character depth is your friend. • That said, for the love of god, stop writing Menelaus like he’s just Agamemnon 2.0. A lot of adaptions do this because they don’t seem to know what to do with his character (I’m lookin’ @ u most of all Troy though he suffers some form of this in almost all film adaptions...) Which is a shame because Menelaus as a character is a lot more (and better) than that. From what we do know, Menelaus was actually (relatively speaking) a pretty chill guy and one of the least problematic out of these assholes (y’know, minus that scene I mentioned above with Iphigenia, but hey...at least he admits he fucked up?). We know that Helen voluntarily chose him to be her husband. We know that Helen wanted to return home to him by the time the Iliad takes place. We know they got back together after the war and more or less lived happily ever after. So why do I keep seein’ all these posts about Helen hating him or about him being another warmonger like Agamemnon. Menelaus was a Decent Dude. Leave him alone :,| • Speaking of Helen, how many times am I going to read “feminist” retellings where she either is totally indifferent to or even wanted the war to happen, where she enjoys watching men die, where she ~reclaims~ her demigoddess power and is A Figure To Be Feared. What Helen is this??? Because in the Iliad, Helen is remorseful af about all the people she’s indirectly responsible for the deaths of. There are more ways to build up and strengthen female characters than to make them just like the men they despise. Just. Saying. I get that people want to free her from the damsel in distress role she’s essentially relegated to, me too, but that is NOT the way to do it. Girl can be strong willed but still have a great amount of empathy. As with essentially every other bullet point above, please just give these characters more than one dimension. • Also, how many times am I gonna have to read about The One Fellow Female (Helen or Clytemnestra usually) who believes Cassandra’s prophecies in order to emphasize like, girl power, or that the author feels sorry for Cass and want to project that onto some other character or something. Dude, she was cursed not to be believed. PERIOD. BY ANYONE. There was no clause in the curse for like “except someone who really thinks you’re swell”. It’s tragic because there are no exceptions. No one believes her. NO ONE. THE END. • Achilles was bi. Bi af (by modern standards, of course). See: Iphigenia, Deidamia, Briseis, Polyxena, Penthesilea… I totally get this movement of wanting to call Achilles gay because for so long he and Patroclus have gotten the ‘just guys bein’ dudes’ treatment from scholars. I think it’s absolutely fantastic that potential element of his character is more widely recognized and accepted now. However, I can’t help but get these really uncomfy biphobia feels when I read all the posts about how gay he is, as if liking women makes his relationship with Patroclus less legitimate. That was one thing about TSOA which also really disappointed me-- it had to pull that yaoi fanfic trope of ‘girls are so icky and gross’ in order to further sell how convinced you should be of the same sex relationship. It’s just, Bad And Not Good. Finally, I feel like y’all are so busy hating Agamemnon and shoving off every single bad character trait into existence onto him, that Achilles is always ultimately depicted as this #relatable teen who did nothing wrong except get a little too upset when his bf died. May I remind you of just a few things Achilles also did: -Indirectly got a lot of men killed by refusing to fight during his quarrel with Agamemnon -Had 12 innocent children killed when Patroclus died -Basically everything involving Troilus. From wikipedia: [Achilles] is struck by the beauty of both [Polyxena and Troilus] and is filled with lust. It is the fleeing Troilus whom swift-footed Achilles catches, dragging him by the hair from his horse. The young prince refuses to yield to Achilles' sexual attentions and somehow escapes, taking refuge in the nearby temple. But the warrior follows him in, and beheads him at the altar before help can arrive. The murderer then mutilates the boy's body. Some pottery shows Achilles, already having killed Troilus, using his victim's severed head as a weapon as Hector and his companions arrive too late to save him. The mourning of the Trojans at Troilus' death is great. -Just straight up fucking murders a guy for making fun of him after he just murdered someone else. "Achilles, who fell in love with the Amazon [Penthesilea] after her death, slew Thersites for jeering at him" I’m sure there’s more receipts like this. So like. Can we throw in a couple posts now and then among the Agamemnon ones about Achilles, who was Problematic for far more reasons than just sulking in his tent :,) ...Okay. I think that’s it. FOR NOW. I guess I’ll end this by saying half of this is just my own opinion and I recognize that people can interpret and retell these stories and characters however they want to. It’s when it becomes so consistent however that people treat it like it is The One True Canon when it’s actually not that my jimmies get a bit rustled. [/END RANT]

#the iliad

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littlesparklight · 4 years

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Random observation:

While Zeus threatens to use violence a couple times (or, in less starkly human and “threatening to beat your wife is A-OK” ancient greece terms, exercise his power and authority as the king), Hera explicitly says she wants to beat the shit out of Ares to make him stop helping the Trojans, goes to ask Zeus for permission to do this, and he obliges - and suggests Hera delegates to Athena, which she does.

This leads to her aiding Diomedes in yet another “humans aren’t supposed to do this thing” act (which, like with the other ones, Diomedes gets away with entirely) and Ares being injured.

I think we can all agree here that Hera is supposed to be the more powerful one between them in terms of divine appointment and is his mother besides.

Do I have any great point here? Not really. I just came upon that part and it seems worth it to consider that authority/power expressed through violence (or the threat thereof) doesn’t just come from Zeus. My only half formed thought is that it really is a lot less about the personal/intimate relationship between the characters involved and more about power and authority, but obviously it looks and comes across a lot more unpleasant when you add/only think of it in terms of the personal/intimate relationships between the characters.

#the iliad

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mythologyfolklore · 4 years

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Ares and Athena through the years - Ch. 11

Chapter Eleven: The Trojan War, pt. 03

(A/N: The end of the Iliad with some comic relief and lots of heartbreak at the end, because that's how the Iliad works. This isn't the last chapter about the Trojan War, but the next one will be. This is just the last part of the Iliad.)

Book Nineteen:

The next morning saw Thetis giving her son a freshly forged armour of such splendour, that Akhilleus was the only one who could even look at it directly.

As he marched the camp up and down, the other leaders came to the assembly, even though Agamemnon, Diomedes and Odysseus were severely injured and could hardly walk.

Akhilleus announced the end of his strike, much to the delight of the Achaean army.

He and Agamemnon finally talked things out and buried their old grudges.

“Right!”, Akhilleus exclaimed, “Enough talking! Let's go into battle already!”

“Not so fast!”, Odysseus (the resident braincell-owner) objected. “Our troops are exhausted and many of us are wounded. We need all the energy we can get. So there is one more thing we have to do first!”

“And what would that be?”, Akhilleus snarled impatiently.

“Have breakfast”, Odysseus deadpanned.

“OH COME ON!!!”

“No.”

Book Twenty:

On Olympos Zeus had made his ex-wife Thémis gather all the gods (literally all of them – even the Naiades and Dryades¹). Tiredly they dragged themselves out of bed and into the assembly hall.

Poseidon was the first to speak.

“Sooooo”, he drawled, “What are you plotting now, Astrapaios²?”

Zeus was lounging on his throne like a boss.

“Oh, you know what I want, Ennosigaios³! I won't wish for Akhilleus to conquer the city just yet, but he will, if we're not careful. And this is why I hereby decree, that the prohibition is lifted! You may interfere with the battle as much as you please!”

Suddenly everyone was wide awake and those who had taken a side in the war went to ready themselves for a battle royal – uh, I mean battle divine.

Of the Olympians, Dionysos (one of the few gods who had refused to get involved at all) was the last to leave the room. He used the opportunity to question his father.

“Dad, if you don't mind …”

“Ask away!”

“Why exactly did you change your mind again?”

Zeus chuckled at his son's perceptiveness.

“For the reason I stated earlier of course. Well, that and because I want to amuse myself by sitting here in my neutrality and watching this divine spectacle.”

“… Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, my son! Bring wine, this is going to be good!”

The gods joined the war and wasted no time in making things more interesting … for them!

Eris was having a blast with this spectacle.

Zeus was setting the mood above with thunder and rain.

Poseidon struck the ground with his trident and the queen of earthquakes happened.

“WHAT THE FUCK???”, he heard Hades' voice shriek from below, “POSEIDON, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??? IF THE GROUND BREAKS OPEN AND FALLS DOWN IT WILL REVEAL THE UNDERWORLD AND BURY EVERYTHING BENEATH!!!”

Poseidon laughed sheepishly and yelled back down: “SORRY, BRO!”

Maybe I overdid it with that earthquake …

Some distance away, Apollon had convinced Aineías, that fighting Akhilleus would be a brilliant idea.

Poseidon didn't notice until Hera pat his shoulder and said to him and Athena: “Uh, we have a little problem back there” - and pointed to where Aineías and Akhilleus were about to duke it out.

“Don't worry, sister”, he replied, “We're stronger than them. If any of Troy's gods comes close to Akhilleus, that's nothing we can't take care of.”

Still, the gods of the Achaeans didn't want to engage in a bloodbath, before agreeing on a strategy.

On the battlefield, Aineías and Akhilleus ran into each other and started with a verbal duel, before lunging at each other. Poseidon quickly assessed, that the son of Thetis was outclassing the son of Aphrodite.

“Alright, here I come!”, he sighed, “Apollon won't save him, but the youngster is fated to live.”

Then he threw himself into the maddening throng and momentarily blinded Akhilleus, before he could decapitate the disarmed Trojan. Grabbing the mortal by the arms, Poseidon took to flight and carried him away to safety.

“Okay!”, he snapped at him, once they were back on the ground, “First off: Are you fucking insane?! Trying to take on Akhilleus, who is favoured by the gods and far stronger than you? He will send you to Hades, before your time is up! Secondly: as long as he is alive, you stay away from battle, you dumbass son of an even more dumbass goddess!”

With that, the Lord of the Sea left Aineías behind to wonder what the heck had just happened.

Akhilleus on the other hand just shrugged it off and went back to slaughtering Trojans en masse.

Apollon had warned Hektor not to go against the deranged demigod, but when the Trojan prince saw one of his brothers get killed by that very man, he forgot the warning and attacked him.

Akhilleus immediately recognised the slayer of his dear soulmate and charged with a battle cry.

But Apollon, always having the best timing, stepped in and saved the Trojan.

Again.

This is getting old.

Book Twenty-One:

The Trojans were fleeing in panic from the deranged and bloodthirsty demigod.

But Hera conjured a thick fog, making it impossible for them to see.

Those who didn't get lost in the fog where cornered and driven into the holy waters of the river Xanthos (or Skamandros, as the mortals called him). They jumped or fell into the quick waters, struggling and screaming for help. Akhilleus in his blood rush jumped after them and slaughtered the Trojans, who were already drowning, dyeing the waters red with blood.

That pissed off the river god, because no one liked having their waters defiled with gore and corpses. Politely requesting Akhilleus to stop dumping corpses into his river didn't help, so Xanthos lost his temper and promptly left his riverbed to make the demigod stop.

Only when this colossal mass of water rose before him, was Akhilleus seized by fear and he made a run for it across the field. But the river always caught up to him, because he was still just a demigod and Xanthos a full god and gods just were stronger than mortals (unless you were Herakles).

Athena and Poseidon came to his rescue, before he could die a most unheroic death by drowning. They warned him to go back to the battlefield, kill Hektor and return to the Achaean camp, then they left to mind their own business.

But the river wasn't done yet; it joined forces with another river, both hell-bent on drowning Akhilleus.

This was seen by Hera, who turned to Hephaistos. “My son, I thought you would take care of the river god? What are you waiting for? Show him your destructive flames. I will release the winds to fuel them. Do not stop, until I ask you to.”

Hephaistos, powerful fire god that he was, raised his arms and unleashed his divine fire above the river (never mind, that it was still raining). Hera released the north and south wind.

The unearthly fire storm, hotter than the surface of the sun⁴, spread across the heath, consumed the bodies of the dead and made the rivers writhe in agony from being boiled alive.

Xanthos soon begged for mercy, but Hephaistos was only following his mother's orders, so the river turned to Hera and begged her to control her son.

Now the Queen of the Skies finally showed the mercy asked of her and told her son to stop.

Hephaistos rolled his eyes, but called his fire back.

Xanthos returned to his river bed, recovered from the torment and he stuck his head out of the water to glare at the fire god. “And here I thought you were not an arsehole!”

The divine blacksmith laughed: “Oh, you're wrong! I'm less of an arsehole than the other Olympians, but I still can be a prick!”

Hera chuckled in amusement.

On his throne on Olympos, Zeus was having the time of his life, because now the gods were charging at each other at last.

“Ohhh, now they're getting started! This is going to be priceless! Where are the wine, cookies and my camera?”

Hebe and Dionysos brought him both and then sat with him to enjoy the show.

In the meantime, Athena had finally turned to Ares.

“'Sup, arsehole”, she greeted him.

“'Sup, fellow arsehole”, he retorted. Then he had his sword out. “Don't think I have forgot how you let that fucker Diomedes pierce with a spear! Now it's time for payback!”

I thought he already had- oh, never mind.

He attacked first and they duked it out for a while, before he threw his spear at the impenetrable Aigis she was wearing on her chest. Athena leapt back, grabbed a stone and hit her opponent at the back of his neck with it.

Knocked out, he collapsed.

“Hah!”, she yelled in triumph. “I'm the one who gets the payback! That's for abandoning your mother and me in favour of supporting the Trojans! Well, that and the fucking prohibition you put into our father's head. What's that with you always forgetting what everyone has realised a long time ago: that I am stronger than you and always will be!”

“Ares!”

Athena whirled around to see the goddess of love running to her lover's aid.

Aphrodite grabbed Ares' arm and began to drag him to safety.

“Are you just letting her do that?”, Hera spat at Athena.

The goddess of wisdom rolled her eyes. “Alright, I'm on it!”

Strode up to Aphrodite, who was struggling under Ares' weight and hit her on the chest, knocking her out as well. There they lay, with the bright-eyed goddess standing above them.

“This is what happens to the allies of Troy and everyone who gets in my way!”, she snarled.

Aphrodite came to herself and glared up. “You're full of shit, Athena.”

The war goddess shrugged. “Look around, Aphrodite. Everyone here is full of shit. Especially you.”

At the same time, Poseidon was facing Apollon.

The sea god taunted his nephew: “What is stopping you, Sunny Boy, now that the others are at each other's throats?”

Apollon sighed: “Can you please not call me 'Sunny Boy'? That's Ares' shtick. Also-”

“Whatever, Sunny Boy. Where is the fun in going home without a single scratch? Let's duke it out! But first tell me: why are you supporting the Trojans? Don't you remember how they treated us? When Zeus stripped us of our immortality for a year, we had to serve Laomedon for a pittance! I built this mighty wall around Troy, while you herded his cattle. And when the year was finally over, he denied us pay and threatened to bind us, cut our ears off and sell us off as slaves! And you're helping the Trojans, after all of this? Explain!”

But Apollon remained calm.

“Does it really matter? Let's leave the mortals to their devices. I don't want to fight you over them, uncle. You're way out of my league, it would be madness.”

But Artemis grabbed him by the shoulder, outraged. “So you're chickening out?! You just give up and let him win?! If so, then don't ever let us hear you brag, that you could take on Poseidon!”

But Apollon just arched an eyebrow. “I'm not 'chickening out'. I just know, when to quit – unlike someone I know.”

As if on cue, Hera confronted Artemis: “You little brat! If you have the spine to make me or Poseidon your enemy, you're dumber than I thought! I will show you, just how outclassed you really are!”

Then she seized the goddess of the hunt by both wrists with one hand, tore her quiver and arrows off her shoulder with the other and smacked the shit out of her with it. When Hera was done with her, Artemis was running back to Olympos crying, leaving her bow and arrows on the battlefield.

Hermes saw this and let his opponent Leto take the win. The Titanis of motherhood gratefully gathered up the weapons of her daughter from the floor and returned to Olympos to console her.

Apollon blinked after them. “What the Tartaros did just happen?”

Poseidon laughed heartily: “Just because my sister is the goddess of marriage doesn't mean she can't kick arse! Or where do you think Ares got his temper from?”

The Earthshaker looked to the sky and knew that Zeus was shaking with laughter.

On the battlefield Akhilleus was still massacring Trojans left and right.

The king Priamos saw this from the top of the wall and ordered for the gates to be opened, so his people could save themselves.

Apollon came onto the field through the gates and held his hand over them, while they scrambled to the sweet safety of their city. He took the shape of a Trojan Akhilleus had been about to kill and allowed to chase him across the field, away from the gates of Troy. That bought the Trojans the time they needed to escape the wrath of Thetis' son.

All of them, except for Hektor; he didn't make it in time, before the gates closed.

The greatest warrior of the Trojans was shut outside.

Book Twenty-Two:

Apollon led Akhilleus away from Troy, before finally turning around.

“Hey, arsehole! Guess who!” And dropped his disguise.

Then he proceeded to mock the raging demigod, who was out of breath after chasing him for kilometres: “While you ran after me like a moron, thinking that you stand a chance against me, the Trojans have barricaded themselves inside their city! They are out of your reach and you will never defeat me, Apollon!”

“You … you deceived me!”, Akhilleus gasped, “So is … the most lethal of the gods … the protector of Troy … otherwise I would have killed them all! But damn you! If it was in my power, I would give you payback!”

Apollon gritted his teeth: “But you can't, mortal.”

Akhilleus screamed in fury and dashed back to Troy with swift feet.

Hektor was waiting in front of the walls of Troy to challenge vengeful Akhilleus and face his imminent demise.

On top of the walls, his aged father was weeping over the cruelty of fate: that he would have to see his sons and many of his people die, his city sacked, his daughters ravaged, his grandchildren and himself murdered, his daughters-in-law sold into slavery.

But no matter how much Priamos beseeched him, Hektor didn't yield and stayed where he was, even though he was terrified. Yet as soon as he saw Akhilleus clearly, bloodthirsty and deranged like Ares himself, his flight instinct kicked in and he ran for his life. Only Apollon's assistance prevented the son of Thetis from catching up to Hektor.

While Akhilleus chased the slayer of Patroklos around the city walls three times in a row, the gods were watching from above.

Zeus shook his head. “I don't like seeing him being chased around his own city like that. And it's really a shame, that he should die already. He always honoured us gods beyond measure. Should I save this noble man or-”

“No!”, Athena protested at once, “His time is up, he must die! We can't randomly spare mortals, just because we favour them. Do whatever you want, but none of us will approve.”

“… Do what you must, but do it quickly.”

On Olympos, in the Room of Fate, the Scales of Fate weighed the lot of Hektor against Akhilleus.

That of Hektor sank, that of Akhilleus rose up.

Apollon, as the god of prophecy, sensed the shift and reluctantly left Hektor to face his doom.

Athena on the other hand joined the angry Akhilleus.

“Today the Achaeans will gain a most glorious victory! We shall slay Hektor! He is destined to die by our hands and not even Apollon's pleas to Zeus will save him now. Now hold up and catch your breath, while I persuade him to face you in battle.”

She caught up to Hektor in the shape of one of his brothers and did exactly that.

So the Trojan prince whirled around to face the son of Peleus.

They had a short dispute. Hektor entreated his opponent to agree, that the loser be returned to his people to receive a proper burial.

But Akhilleus refused: “FUCK YOUR PROPOSAL! YOU WILL PAY FOR THE DEATH OF PATROKLOS AND ALL OF MY FRIENDS WHOM YOU KILLED!!!”

“OH SHUT UP, ARSEHOLE! YOU AND YOUR COMRADES KILLED MOST OF MY FAMILY AND FRIENDS TOO! AND ONCE YOU TAKE OVER OUR CITY, YOU WILL RAVAGE IT, MASSACRE THE CIVILIANS, VIOLATE AND ENSLAVE OUR WOMEN AND KILL OUR CHILDREN!!! I AM DOING WHATEVER I CAN TO PROTECT THEM!!! YOU DON'T GET TO JUDGE ME!!!”, Hektor roared in outrage.⁵

Then they threw their spears at each other.

Hektor dodged that of Akhilleus, but his own weapon flew far off, guided by Athena's hand. When he turned to whom he had thought to be his dear brother to ask for a new spear, but found him gone.

The Trojan prince realised, that he had been tricked by Athena and that the gods had decided his doom a long time ago.

“Well, fuck this shit”, he muttered, pulled his sword to face his last battle.

Their fight was short and brutal.

At long last, Akhilleus managed to stab him in the throat.

But he had narrowly missed the windpipe and so Hektor was able to rattle a few last words.

“If you have … an ounce of honour … return my corpse … to my parents … so I can be buried.”

“No.”

“Thought as much … but know this … you're – ugh! – angering the gods … you will die … by Apollon's and Paris' arrows …”

Then the greatest defender of Troy died.

For a while Akhilleus stood silently above him.

Then he finally replied to the dead man: “I know. And I don't care.”

And proceeded to outrage his vanquished enemy's corpse by tying it to his chariot and dragging it around his city several times.

While on the walls above, his grieving parents, his sorrow-stricken wife Andromákhe and the people of Troy were weeping to the Heavens.

Book Twenty-Three:

Akhilleus held funeral games for Patroklos and, after much more mourning, finally delivered him to the pyre.

Hektor's dishonoured corpse on the other hand he left to the dogs.

The dogs that would not go near it; the presence of the goddess Aphrodite, who guarded it night and day, kept them away. She and Apollon preserved his corpse, so that neither the scorching sun, nor being hauled around by Akhilleus could damage it.

The burned remains of Patroklos were put to rest in a golden urn – one that his ghost had asked Akhilleus to put them in and mix them with his own, once the son of Thetis would die.

Book Twenty-Four:

All the while Apollon had protected Hektor's corpse from being mutilated, while Akhilleus didn't stop treating it like that of a common criminal.

Day after day he and the other gods who were supporting Troy begged Zeus to send Hermes to steal away the body. And every time Poseidon, Hera and Athena had been against it, unyielding in their old grudges.

After a week, the god of light finally had enough.

“How much longer”, he confronted the other gods, “do you want to allow Akhilleus to abuse the body of Hektor in such a foul manner?! Does none of you have a heart?! Has he ever failed to give you the best possible sacrifices?! Instead of returned his body to his people to receive the funeral he deserves, you choose being butt-hurt about the stupidity of that wuss Paris and that's why you help that sociopath Akhilleus, who doesn't have an ounce of propriety, shame or even respect in his chest! Many others are mourning their loved ones and he acts like he's the only one! As honourable as his parents are, they failed to raise a decent human being!“

Hera jumped up and pointed a finger at him: “Stop going on about Hektor, like he has ever been Akhilleus' equal! One was only a full mortal, while the other is the son of Thetis, whom I raised and married to Peleus, who we all were fond of!”

“That doesn't change the fact, that Akhilleus is a fucking arsehole!”, Apollon snapped.

“Or that he wouldn't know honour, if it spat in his face!”, Artemis agreed.

“Or that he's a whiny mother's boy”, Ares added.

Hera flushed with rage. “How dare you!”, she exclaimed, “All of you have been at the wedding of his parents! You ate, drank, danced and made music-”

“So?”, Ares said coldly, “Akhilleus is not his parents. We are not obliged to him, nor to Thetis and Peleus and definitely not to you. Hektor respected us gods and other humans more than he does.”

Hera's eyes narrowed. “That's it! I will-”

“ENOUGH!!!”, Zeus thundered and everyone fell silent.

Angrily he turned to Hera: “I've had enough of your attitude! No one here is putting Hektor and Akhilleus on the same level! And all things considered, Hektor was beloved by us. He always knew what kind of sacrifices I and all of you wished for, never failed to honour us and only gave us the best of the best. Still, stealing the body is not an option either. Bring me Thetis. She shall persuade her son to give Hektor's body up to his father.”

After Thetis had been welcomed by the gods, Zeus cut to the chase: “Let your son know, that we're angered by his behaviour. He is to return the body of Hektor to the Trojans for ransom – this is my will. He knows what happens to mortals, who do not follow it.”

Thetis nodded and returned to her son to inform him of Zeus' decree.

Later that evening Iris descended to the earth again, this time to tell Priamos, that Zeus was doing him one last favour: the returning of his son's body.

So Priamos packed rich gifts as ransom and went, but not before making a sacrifice of Zeus and venting his bitterness about how the cruelty of Ares had robbed and would keep robbing him of his loved ones.

As Zeus saw the elderly man and his aged herald cross the bloodstained plain in the darkness, he was overcome by pity. He waved Hermes over and fondly ruffled the messenger's hair.

The second youngest Olympian endured it, as always.

“My beloved son, who holds mankind dearest, guides them and listens to them. Go and escort Priamos to the Achaean ships, but make sure that no one sees him, before he stands in front of the son of Peleus.”

Hermes put on his winged sandals and staff and landed on the coast near the ships in the guise of a young soldier from Akhilleus' troops. With his staff, he lulled the Achaeans to sleep, before going to find Priamos.

As he came into the king's field of view, he could tell that the old man was frightened.

But Hermes gently took the old man's hands and asked kindly: “Who are you, sir? What are you and your companion there doing out here in the middle of the night and with so much treasure? Don't you know how dangerous that is?”

“You're right, young man”, Priamos replied, “But one god must have at least some mercy with me. It must be a good omen, that we meet you here; I can see your wisdom as well as your beauty – you must have blessed parents.”

That I do, Hermes thought fondly, but kept his focus.

“That's true. But do answer my question. Are you trying to hide them, or are you all fleeing your city in panic, because you lost your best fighter – your son Hektor, the greatest of your warriors?”

Priamos tilted his head. “How do you know about my son? Who are you?”

“One of the soldiers of Akhilleus”, Hermes fibbed, “I often saw your son on the field of glory, even when we weren't allowed to fight, because our lord wouldn't let us.”

“Really!”, the king cried hopefully, “Tell me, what happened to my son's body? Is it still intact at the ships? Akhilleus didn't … he didn't … did he …?”

“It's still intact”, the Messenger soothed him. “Nothing of the outrage it suffered by Akhilleus could damage it – if it wasn't for the wounds, one could think he's sleeping! The gods care for him even in death.”

He couldn't help but feel horrible for the sorrow-stricken old man, who nearly burst into tears at these news and who really deserved better than all this woe.

Deciding to make it quick, before the mortal's suffering could get to him, Hermes guided Priamos to Akhilleus' tent.

Once there, he revealed himself: “Now I can tell you, that I am the god Hermes. My father sent me to guide and protect you. I must stay outside, because I don't want the trouble of being seen. But listen to me: when you go in there, clasp the knees of Peleus' son and beseech him in the name of his own dear parents, if you want him to hear you.”

Akhilleus gaped in amazement, as none other than Priamos came before him.

The long-suffering king of Troy fell onto his knees in front of his greatest enemy, clasping the knees and kissing the hands of the man, who had slain his children.

After reminding him of his father Peleus, who was waiting for his son to come home, Priamos ended his plea: “Fifty sons I had, before you Achaeans came and I got to keep none of them! Most were felled by cruel Ares. And the one son I could count on, the defender of my city and its inhabitants – oh Hektor, my child! – fell by your hand. I'm here to ransom him with rich gifts. Respect the gods and think of your father. Even more than him I have a right to your mercy, because I did what no other father in the world could ever bring himself to do: I kissed the hand of the man who murdered my son.”

The sight of this old man's infinite grief and the memory of his own father, who too would never see him again, did something to Akhilleus.

There was no more wrath in him, only sadness and grief.

That and something new.

Something he had never felt before: Compassion.

Hektor's body was ransomed and returned to his people.

Even on Olympos the gods could hear the crying of the Trojans for their prince.

The people, who mourned their greatest hero.

His parents, who lost their dearest son.

His remaining siblings, who lost the brother they had looked up to.

His widow, who hadn't been able to be at her husband's side, while he was dying.

Helena, who had been taken here against her will and was now mourning the only man besides Priamos, who had treated her with kindness, the only friend she'd had here.

The Trojans keened and bewailed Hektor for ten days.

On the eleventh day he was brought to the pyre.

The smoke rose high and with it carried prayers and weeping.

---

1) Naiades: river nymphs; Dryades: tree nymphs.

2) Astrapaios: "Lord of Lightning", one of Zeus' epithets.

3) Ennosigaios: "Shaker of the Earth", one of Poseidon's epithets.

4) The surface of the sun is appr. 5000°C hot.

5) In the Iliad Hektor doesn't actually respond to Akhilleus' refusal like that, but I thought that this was important to point out.

4 notes · View notes

thirdwars · 3 years

Text

the battle at diagon alley // jimmy fletcher.

Mentions/features: Fleur Weasley, Reyna Nott, Olive Longbottom.

To summarise: Jimmy arrives with Nik & Dana, but is soon separated from them. He ends up helping out Fleur, who is in turn helping out a wounded man. He duels with Reyna, and ends up winning, or at least getting the hell away. Jimmy comes across Diomedes torturing Olive, and confunds him before taking Olive to St Mungo’s, where he stays the remainder of the night before going home.

THREAD 001: Fleur & Jimmy.

FLEUR WEASLEY: Chaos. Complete chaos, but Fleur immediately had sprung into action. Her wand was clutched in her hand to defend herself when she saw someone lying on the ground. She rushed to their side, but knowing there were Death Eaters all around, she called out to the first order member she saw - “Jimmy! Cover me!” - and hoped that he would as she started to try and help the person lying on the ground.

JIMMY FLETCHER: His ears pick up his name, and he turns around, quickly, his instincts more than sharp. He sees Fleur, a body on the ground, and he shakes off a Death Eater by hitting them with a stunning spell before rushing over. "Gotcha, Delacour!" That's not her surname any more, but who cares about such details at the moment. He casts a shield charm, eyes considering their surroundings. "They alive?"

FLEUR WEASLEY: Grateful to know that he was watching her back, Fleur now focused on the man lying on the ground. "Yes. Yes, I should be able to help." She took a deep breath before waving her wand over him, muttering spells to at least get him well enough to apparate to safety.

JIMMY FLETCHER: He releases a breath of air he didn't know he was holding, eyes flicking to Fleur for a moment. He doesn't like death. He doesn't like any of this. Empty words fall from his mouth as he says, "Great, cool, yeah - great," his mind and mouth not connected. "Fuck, not great." A Death Eater approached, and Jimmy focused on defense more than offense as he tried to block Fleur from their view.

FLEUR WEASLEY: Fleur's managed to stay calm this far, but she was nervous that there would be casualties they couldn't help. "He'll be fine," she spoke, not entirely sure if it was to convince herself or Jimmy. But it was his next words that drew her attention and she noticed the Death Eater. "Merde." She started working quicker, hoping it wouldn't take much longer.

JIMMY FLETCHER: He focuses on defense, not on clever words or distracting taunts, but getting this Death Eater away from here as soon as possible. Stunning spell after stunning spell leaves his wand, but his opponant sends curses right back, debris flying near his foot. In the end, though, one of his red jets of light hits the other square in the chest, and he drops. "Clear, for now." He casts a concealment charm, a shield, and turns to Fleur. "How's it going?"

FLEUR WEASLEY: Hearing all the commotion around her had Fleur nervous, likely not the best for her situation. "Thank you," she replied, turning to look at him. "He'll be fine. Everything severe is at least patched up. But we need to get him off the street. Inside somewhere safe."27 October 2020

JIMMY FLETCHER: He registers her words but doesn't reply immediately, eyes seeking for a safe place. "Got it," he says, and he moves to the first door he sees - belonging to the junk shop - casting alohomora non verbally. Jimmy hasn't ever been opposed to breaking and entering, especially not in moments of need. "Here, Fleur!" He stands near the door, wand at the ready for defensive spells.

FLEUR WEASLEY: Fleur keeps working as he moves away, not wanting to waste any time. A quick charm helps the (more conscious now) man to stand and they nearly run to the door, her own wand casting a shield around them. Once they were all inside, she shut and locked the door before getting the man to some semblance of a seat. "Rest a moment," she told him before turning to Jimmy. "Thank you for you help.”

JIMMY FLETCHER: He doesn't say no to that suggestion, and leans against one of the pillars in the store, eyes flicking to the door every now and then. Most of the time, though, he looks at Fleur. "I should get better at healing," he says. "I mean, I carry potions with me all the time - speaking of, need something? Dittany? - but the spells? I'm shit." Jimmy squats for a moment, rubbing his eyes. "Fucking hell, Fleur. This shit's crazy."

FLEUR WEASLEY: Fleur wiped a bead of sweat from her brow as she took a few deep breaths. For the moment, at least, they could breathe. “Do you have dittany?” she asked, knowing if he did, it would be incredibly useful. “They take practice, and they’re certainly not everyone’s strong suit.” She shook her head. “I know. I know. And I haven’t seen my family since all this started.” She couldn’t think about that now. “I don’t think they’re going to stop anytime soon either.”

JIMMY FLETCHER: "Yeah, give me a second." He digs in his pockets, and takes a while as they're magically enlarged, and produces a vial. "Here." Jimmy hands Fleur the potion, and stands near her now, watching her at work, impressed. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry about that." He thought about those he'd come with that he cared about, and felt a pang of fear. "I've not seen Dung either, but I'm sure he's ghosted." All the others he cares about, he doesn't mention, as the thought scares him too much. "Yeah. Me either. They're really out for blood."

FLEUR WEASLEY: “Ah, thank you.” Fleur offered a very small, but grateful smile. One of the cuts she’d thought she’d healed was open again. She put a few drops over the wounds she saw, watching as they started healing. She knew it had to sting, but it was better than bleeding out. “I’ll find them when this is over.” And she couldn’t think about any alternative, not now. “This is only going to get worse isn’t it?”

JIMMY FLETCHER: He thinks it's interesting how well Fleur knows what she's doing. Jimmy knows of course, that appearances are just that, but still: it's an intriguing image. "If I see any of them, I'll tell them you're okay, yeah?" What else is there to do? Hope, he supposes, but that's not something he's familiar with. "If you're looking for something optimistic here I can't help ye. Because yeah, yeah. It probably will."

FLEUR WEASLEY: “Yes. Yes, that would be great, thanks.” She nodded. She’d not been a part of this the first time around, and she was starting to think they’d been lucky then. “If someone can be optimistic about this, I envy them.”

JIMMY FLETCHER: "No worries." Jimmy didn't say that he had a feeling that some of her family members might not be okay, the Weasleys such notorious opposers of the Death Eaters. She probably already knew that. "I dunno. It'll probably bite them in the arse, y'know?"

FLEUR WEASLEY: Fleur nodded. She knew it was foolish to think they’d all get out unscathed. There were too many of them, the odds were against them. “Yeah, it probably will.”

THREAD 002: Reyna & Jimmy.

JIMMY FLETCHER: This isn't where he functions best: on the forefront. Jimmy Fletcher is good at acting in the shadows, behind the scenes, at sneaking around when no one is watching. If it wasn't for the Order and his sense of duty, he would have apparated moments ago, but here he is. Faced with a Death Eater, wands raised. "Can ye even breathe in that fuckin' thing?," he shouts, all bravado and distractions as his wand twists in his hand, sending a nonverbal stinging hex their way. "Seems real uncomfortable."

REYNA NOTT: Reyna cared little for battlefield taunts, but why not have a bit of fun? “Well enough to do my job,” she countered. Though in advancing upon him, his hex hit her shoulder, causing her to stumble a bit before she sent one right back.

JIMMY FLETCHER: His face winces as the stinging hex hits him, but he's had worse. "You call this a job? When d'you get off, then? How's the pay?" He's an easy talker, worse duellist, quick on his feet in both senses. Jimmy points his wand at his opponent, shouting, "Impedimenta!"

REYNA NOTT: "As if you care." The talk was... less than stimulating (though perhaps simply because she wasn't much for conversation anyway). "Protego!" she shouts, raising her wand to protect herself before, "Flipendo!"

JIMMY FLETCHER: "But I do! That's why I asked," he says, rambling as if it's all he knows to do. His mouth and wand move with ease: running his mouth is nature, after all, and so is survival. "See, always on the look out for new job opportunities." And still, the knockback jinx gets him, blowing the air from his lungs. Jimmy scrambles up, though, yelling, "D'you get a bonus for that? Locomotor Wibbly!"

REYNA NOTT: "As if we would accept scum like you." Rey was grateful for the mask that hid her face as her legs buckled beneath her, caught off guard enough in her pride. She sent a blasting curse to the ground in front of his feet as she gathered herself again.

JIMMY FLETCHER: "Oh, come on now, you must have some more original material than the whole scum thing by now!," he exclaims, before scrambling back from the blast, blocking debris flying his way with his wand. "Doesn't it get tiring, calling people scum?"

REYNA NOTT: "What would you prefer I call you?" she nearly shouted, sending yet another blast - laughing at how he scrambled. "No, it gives a good rush."

JIMMY FLETCHER: He defects that one, and sends a pain-inducing curse her way. "Fuck, that's what gives you a rush? Have you tried bungee jumping? Being in love? Something other than boring insults?"

REYNA NOTT: Reyna let out a cry as the curse hit her. It was pain enough that she wouldn't be surprised if he used the opportunity against her. "Love," she scoffed. "It's overrated."

JIMMY FLETCHER: "Flipendo!," he yells, taking advantage of the situation before adding, "I mean, try something else then. Go on a bender, if you want a rush."

REYNA NOTT: Reyna groaned as she hit the ground. “Fuck,” she mumbled. She threw a stinging jinx his way as she got back to her feet. “Oh, no. This is much more fun.”

JIMMY FLETCHER: He winces as the stinging hex hits him, face contorted. He doesn't like this: he hates dueling in all truth, prefers curses that take hours to crack than those fired at him in quick succession. He wants out. "You've got a fucked up idea of what fun is, mate." Jimmy points his wand at the ground before Reyna, "Confringo!"

REYNA NOTT: In all truth, the man was probably right in saying she didn’t really know what fun was. Her own family was so rigid and the one she married into wasn’t much easier. It was because of these thoughts that she was thrown back by the ground blasting in front of her. She laid on the ground, trying to catch her breath.

JIMMY FLETCHER: As the Death Eater fell, Jimmy saw his chance. He was no fighter: the muscle work in both Nik's crew and the Order was left to others. He gripped his wand, pulled up the hood of his hoody and turned, sprinting away from the scene and onto whatever next this battle might hand to him.

THREAD 003: Olive & Jimmy.

JIMMY FLETCHER: The screams are haunting, in all truth. If he was a more cowardly man (which doesn't say a lot, really), he would have turned a blind eye, but he doesn't. He finds the screams belong to one of the Longbottom girls (her name, for now, lost on him) and he takes a moment to assess the situation. Jimmy has always been good at quick thinking, and he observes the masked Death Eater, who's saying, "I just might," in a tone that makes this seem like a fucking game. He creases his eyebrows in concentration as he points his wand at him, "Confundo." His priority isn't with causing harm, but with helping, and as he's particularly skilled at the charm, the masked figure seems to lose focus, glancing at his wand as if it's the first time he's seen it. It's almost comical. Jimmy rushes over towards Olive, casting a protective charm around the two of them. "Hey, hey, I'll get you out, yeah? Can you walk? Stand?" He knows that this amount of questions isn't helping, but he's always been a rambler. "What d'you need?"

OLIVE LONGBOTTOM: everything happens in slow motion, or so it seems. she watches a man, who she doesn’t know, cast a spell in diomedes’ direction. and in moments, the pain stops coursing throughout her body. she’s able to sit up, her hands pressed hard into the ground beneath her, and take a good look at the person who saved her. “i’m okay, i think...” she trails off, clearly still shaken up from the effects of the cruciatus curse. “i can stand... just help me up.” olive holds out her hand, waiting for him to pull her to her feet. “get me out of here. please.”

JIMMY FLETCHER: He takes one glance at her and knows she's not okay, that whatever just happens is fucked up in more ways than one. He doesn't address it, though, his focus on getting her out of here. He takes her hand, and pulls her up. "You good to side along apparate? I'll get you to St Mungo's." Jimmy's eyes look around, checking if his protego is still holding up, before looking at the Longbottom kid again. Fucking hell, he thinks, this world is rotten.

OLIVE LONGBOTTOM: "st. mungos is perfect." she nods before leaning down to pick up her wand, stuffing it into her pocket. she doesn't remember dropping it, but she can only assume that it had fallen out of her hand after diomedes had hit her with the cruciatus curse. "i think i'll be okay to apparate..." she trails off, struggling to concentrate on anything, really. she can feel herself shaking and she tries to steady herself but it's no use. both her body and mind are still reeling, unable to fully proccess everything that had just happened. "we need to hurry, though. he'll come back to his sense soon enough."

JIMMY FLETCHER: He looks at the Death Eater for a moment, but he's still confunded. Jimmy Fletcher might be a rather cowardly dueller, but not much bad could be said about his confundus charms. "Alright, alright. Hold on tight, yeah?" Jimmy looks at the other, so startingly young, and his heart feels heavy. When he was that age, his life wasn't particularly filled with sunshine either, but he wasn't doing this, at the very least. He gives her a count down, three to zero, and then apparates. They arrive in the reception area, and Jimmy staggers, struggling to hold up Olive before moving to a pair of chairs. "I - er. I'll talk to the Welcome Wix, if you want. But I have to know what's wrong."

#torture tw #* plotdrop. ( the battle. )#* jimmy. ( reyna. )#* jimmy. ( olive. )#* jimmy. ( fleur. )

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