#some of Hermes… the silver-tonguedessenger god of mischief

[oh-katsuki]

even as a boy of 10, satoru’s voice rang like music. every syllable spoken was a note plucked on a stringed instrument, every laugh a chord from apollo’s lyre itself. a man now, his voice strikes like a symphony. his gifts, which came in multitudes and seemed to never end, manifested themselves in such a way that you couldn’t help but feel that they were owed to him.

such was his divinity. that god’s blood that flowed through his veins, ichor adjacent and so potent that he seemed to sweat it from his skin. to be around him, to listen to him talk, was to feel divine yourself. engaged in conversation with satoru, one could believe that they held the divinity which welded itself to his skin so naturally. to be near him was to know godhood. you could be made to believe that you were born of olympus. his silver tongue and his manner of speaking could convince even the most humble of us that they were destined for a hero’s future. such were his gifts from his father, the wing-shoed messenger god who bore a tongue like a snake and a mind sharp as a freshly forged dagger.

of course, none wore his divinity so well as himself and his father manifested in every part of him. very little was owed to his mother, except perhaps the gentler parts of him which hermes had never touched. his hair, white like the last of winter snow and his skin tawny and olive toned. satoru could hide his blood lineage no better than one could conceal a monument.

#I need to make this #more of this #he <3 #what if this was childhood friends to lovers w demigod gojo #some of Hermes… the silver-tonguedessenger god of mischief