#prometheusstarter

[netteliax]

@prometheanpiero location: Temple of Saturn, Winter Festival notes: :) :)

It had been her curse for a long time to linger on the fringes, Nettelia had tried for a time to join in on these sorts of things. There had once been a time where she'd danced in Eden, when they observed the solstice, decorated their homes, lined the trees with ornaments, and howled under the light of the winter moon. It was lifetimes ago now, that woman hadn't existed in a long time. The nature changed but many of the festivities remained the same; as the wedding came to a close there were many eyes that were wet with memories and well wishes... Many whom Nettelia assumed didn't even know the couple. Still, there had been a great deal of wine so that coupled with the present Roman need for hope likely served as reason enough for people to celebrate, make merry, and rejoice.

She saw another lost soul and before Nettelia left the festivities for the night to retire elsewhere, the archdruidess moved to stand beside Prometheus. The Romans were tossing effigies into a great fire, letting go of pieces of the past and moving forward into the future. She had no desire to fight, to profess anything deep seeded or undying... The two had done enough of that already. Instead Nettelia just stood beside him, because there was some comfort in that act alone. "Have you made your offering yet?"

[felandcris]

@prometheanpiero location: Mountain Graves notes: guess it's the drow trying to get this man's attention huh

If Felandaris and others had learned of the wild creature killing any who approached, then it was only a matter of time until the Great Old Ones descended upon this place. What few realized is that the art of their conquest would blanket the world in their Elysian alloy, oceans would be destroyed, and in place of the earth there'd be the cold power of their influence. Terraformed to their liking, inhospitable to any who remained.

Seemingly undaunted and unafraid of the stories he'd heard, Felandaris strode into the midst of the graves, manifesting first through the shadows of the trees that littered the hard ground. "I know you're here, Prometheus." They weren't friends, in fact they'd never even met, but tales of the avariel who'd defied the Gods were common across every realm. A hero to some, a brash fool to others.

[lorenzcvalentin]

@prometheanpiero location: outside the pyramid? notes: there goes my hero

Practically moving in slow motion, Lorenzo just had a way about him. A very stupid, aloof way, but he liked to think that it was just all part of his charm; his mother always said he was charming anyways. Except for that time he'd cheated on his long time girlfriend but that was totally like... Definitely his fault, but he had been really sorry. A stuffed dinosaur in hand, Enzo had done the whole build-a-bear thing which was weirdly sexual but he was trying not to think about it.

"Hello?" Enzo just knocked on the... Pyramid's door and waited for someone until he saw a kind of sad looking guy who looked vaguely familiar. "Hey man, do you know how I get inside? I'm looking for Theus- uh Epimetheus." Long ass cutie pie name.

[thanatcsx]

@prometheanpiero & @xhermesx location: Thanatos' Pyramid, oh and it's Hermes' place too. notes: dinner party for 3

In a surprising turn of events, the world had not quite ended. It was very close though, Thanatos would have to lend it to the denizens of the mortal realm, they were all quite wily. While the Death had spent the last fifteen years with his arms cross in Hypnos' lightless and soundless cave, it was good to be back. To be home, and to have whatever extra time he'd been given with Hermes. Hermes, the lover of lasagna, quite naturally Thanatos had ordered the best. Black soup was... an odd preference, but Death had done his homework and paired it with quail and fresh bread. The wine was where he excelled, he'd spent an entire weekend curating the perfect bottles.

"I hope everything is to your liking," Thanatos said warmly as the three sat at the table together, he'd told Hermes and Prometheus to invite all of their friends... and here Thanatos was. "there's a lot of food, so please, dig in."

[hyckinthos]

@prometheanpiero location: A quaint fire in the backyard of Hyacinth's not-so-quaint villa. notes: love u

Apollo always said that Hyacinth was a terrible lyre player and a worse singer, by Godly standards and the standards of the Muses, that was likely true. By the standards of the mortal realm he was at least above average. In Elysium you were allowed to live out your impassioned profession infinitely, but Hyacinth had been born a soldier and had always been a soldier. So in the Elysian fields he'd gone to battle everyday, ran through those who crossed his path with his dory, then returned into the evening to drink and play by the fire. Reminiscing on former glories and the irritating ones of the Golden Fields, if something could not truly die, and a battle could not truly be won, it wasn't worth any praise. That was the stifling nature of the gilded cage where he and so many others had been placed.

Prometheus was a solitary soul. Hyacinth appreciated that about him, while he himself had been forged in a brotherhood of violence, his avariel kin had been baptised another way. In wings and solitary lashes and never ending pain, oh, how his friend had suffered. Like all Spartans Hyacinth had an infamously dry with, laconic phrasing was brief, curt and to the point. The weight of a true Spartan's silver tongue wasn't how many flowers he could place upon it but how deftly they could be understood.

A few light strings plucked as the two of them sat alone as they so often had in the days gone by, long nights where the pair sat in shared but comfortable silence. Prometheus was a taboo, a rebel in the midst of the Gods, at any time they could have descended upon him again. And yet, they did not. Apollo's answer to this was aloof and evasive at best, but perhaps the threat of their alleged paradise's end was enough for the moment. The First was dead, a tragedy, but Hyacinth had yet to weep. "She got Epimetheus in the divorce." Afterthought was spending an awful lot of time at the Pyramid, and he'd attended that macabre masquerade on her arm. Hyacinth knew mental warfare when he saw it, but love was another battlefield entirely.

[netteliax]

Nettelia would choose to remember because as an archdruid it was her duty to, she'd remember the brief moment of civility between herself and Prometheus, she'd remember the brave faces of every person that stood beside her, and she'd remember her ex-husband putting a sword to his brother's throat. In the end Nettelia had stood alone, had given everything, and it had amounted to nothing. A few archfiends dead at her feet, but Nettelia had failed to prevent the greater horrors that would come to befall this realm. While fate had always had a macabre sense of humour when it came to the archdruid's destiny, this twist felt particularly cruel.

A greater mystery was at foot, the necronomicon was destroyed but the seraphim who'd plunged his blade into it yet lived. Something to ruminate on another time, if Nettelia did not have the answer then the only ones who might were dead or scattered to the wind. Pythia had fought vehemently to keep the book intact, Ayi'ig was assassinated, and Tiamat was all but vanquished once more. A neat, and tidy end to an otherwise arduous tale. Octavian's madness had very nearly cost them the world, and in the end the archdruids had not been the ones to save humanity from their doomed fate. Rather a collective of individuals that Nettelia might have otherwise deemed mediocre, save perhaps for Prometheus, Titania, and Melpomene.

For now, the battle was won, and above Nettelia could hear the druids as they began to celebrate. Acolytes and future keepers toasting to their victories, it was well deserved and she was proud of each of them. Long gone were the days of Eden where she might have joined in on the festivities, and long gone were the days that followed the world's rebirth where she tried to find her place in a crowd. True to her nature, the druidess took to her chambers in solitude.

"Going through my things? Interesting approach." Nettelia took the book from him, idly thankful that he hadn't seen fit to go through the much saucier collection in her library that she'd been introduced to recently. "I know we're both new to this era, but that's considered quite rude, as is breaking into a woman's home: especially after they've already slammed the door in your face." She rounded the tree, aware of why the avariel had come but she felt the need to ask anyways. "Why are you here, Prometheus?"

Time: Everything just ended Location: Nettelia's place Characters: @netteliax & @prometheanpiero Notes: dont look at me <3

Prometheus had been on the verge of getting eviscerated by a Great Old One but after after thousands of year of getting eviscerated, it was just another weekday. What he didn't understand at first was how he had turned up in the Pyramid all of a sudden, alive and well with an intact building standing above him. He remembered 15 years of tormented living and grief and now it looked as though nothing had happened. Had Time truly reversed? He didn't wait for someone to answer that question for him. The avariel ran towards the portal the witches had made at the start of the war and to the Otherworld allied headquarters. His eyes searched the mass of confused warriors for any sight, any sign of Epimetheus or Nettelia. He saw the medic tent and appeared within. He caught only the quickest glimpse of his brother sneaking out the back and Prometheus nearly collapsed to his knees at the sight, remembering how his twin had tried so hard to run and fight those days. However, right before the avariel moved to catch up to him he saw the Archdruid and he froze. She caught his eyes and, before he knew it, the demigod had appeared just a few feet before her. Prometheus looked at Nettelia as though the sun had risen on an eternal night, then he looked at her as though the answer to every question stared him right in the face and he couldn't quite comprehend it. But as someone else called Nettelia's name and she turned her head briefly to look at them, Prometheus disappeared.

The avariel appeared again hours later, as the dust settled and everyone was given answers to their most prominent questions. He appeared in the room with the little Fig tree where he'd seen Nettelia again after so many ages. He waited there until he knew that it was she who appeared at the doorway. There was so much Prometheus wanted to do, wanted to say as he watched her enter. He held himself back for the moment, unsure what she remembered and unsure what she had finally been told. But, once more, it looked as though Nettelia had become the only light in the room and Prometheus had been locked in darkness. She was alive. She was there. He had buried her. He had burned her. "I have a confession to make," he finally said, his voice quiet in the otherwise empty room, as though she were an easily startled butterfly. He had several confessions to make. However, Prometheus started with holding up a YA romantasy novel that he'd found on his way down. Of course, he'd been curious enough to open it and flip through as he waited. "I dropped your bookmark and I don't know what page you were on."

[echionx]

@prometheanpiero​ location: wherever the fuck Prometheus lives notes: kiss kiss fall in love

“They’re all awake,” Echion said as he wrung his hands together, still fresh from his slumber, he could feel the rest of his family had stirred. A little over a month had gone by since Echion had been awoken, and in that time he’d made his way to Rome. “Udaeus, Hyperenor, Pelorus-” recounting the family that still lived, he studied his palm for a moment, watched pearly-scales coat his hand before they receded back into the regenerative flesh below. “Cthonius is dead, the originals killed him.” Neither side had won or lost, bloodthirsty Ares, dogmatic Pluto, fiery Venus, and deliberate Juno - he did not know why they had killed Cthonius, just that they had done so. “We fought-” Echion shook his head, strong as the spartoi were they couldn’t destroy them, “it wasn’t enough.” 

[netteliax]

@prometheanpiero location: the FUNCTION notes: oh to be ancient and in love

Something was off- Nettelia stood before Oztalun's tree in one moment, reminiscing of when her and Prometheus used to run wild beneath a similar light, and then in the next she was within a pyramid decorated wildly. Ornaments hung across the golden fig tree as if it had been decorated for precisely this occasion. It had grown since she had imbued it with his power, but still, it had not produced even a single fruit. Even as its branches extended towards the ceiling. From the pyramid she wandered to oaken streets, a sea of twinkling stars decorated the wooden sky as the streets were transformed into a forested gala. Nymphs played the sort of beautiful music she had not heard since in ages, fey danced alongside satyrs and drow alike.

It reminded her of a time forgotten to most, but not all.

"I know we never got much practice at these sorts of functions, but in the event that you were wondering: this is the part where you ask me to dance." A cellist by the name of Lil' Nasty accompanied the fey orchestra, Harlow, Isabella, and Aura accompanied him with more strings and operatic vocals.

[netteliax]

@prometheanpiero location: Moon Gate, Fey Forest notes: another gift for my jestie

"You caught me." Nettelia looked towards the speedster, his rapid footsteps had been audible for a fraction of a second and he'd likely been upon her before she even heard them, but she'd know their sound anywhere. "I was curious. It's quite beautiful, isn't it? I suppose they must have had similar structures in Elysia when you were there." Worlds ago when Prometheus was still young, when he spread his wings without a negative association being tied to it.

In truth there was a large part of her that was happy to see him and glad for the company. Nettelia's mind had been working overtime lately, guilt and regret at the forefront but she couldn't let them anchor her down. This city had been handed off to the next generation and she wanted to leave it to them, she did, but she loathed the thought of passing off a burden and calling it someone else's responsibility. This mess... What she did to Oztalun, this was her doing. She'd poured his pure soul into the damned book's creation, then the Asphodel had gone back and retrieved the other half. Nettelia couldn't right that wrong, not anymore, but she could focus on what could be done, and who could be saved. "Can I ask you something? It's about Octavian."

[hyckinthos]

@prometheanpiero location: Hakan's Christmas Rave notes: someone spiked the Spartan's wine

"I'm sure this whole thing is going to blow over in no time, until then you're welcome to stay in the guest house if you need it." Hyacinth didn't want to think about his treasured bestie squatting somewhere, bestie was a new word that he'd been introduced to recently. That Nabi girl had been throwing it around at the last senate meeting. "Are you having fun, drink, have fun with me. We're having fun here."

[netteliax]

@prometheanpiero location: Prometheus' Place notes: She pulled a Pros and broke in

The room was quiet when he entered, a breeze that fluttered the curtains and shifted her hair. Time had taken so much from her, years had stripped away the length of his jaw, and the level of his gaze. It twisted the sound of her voice to a place that she shouldn’t have recognized when she finally heard it again. The whip of the wind that accompanied the Avariel was one that she’d forgotten as well, how the air itself felt like it had brushed its fingertips against her cheek. Small, physical nuances that she’d regretted into the recesses of her mind. Once, he had been hers, now Arthur’s was a stranger to her. She did not know this man, and he certainly did not know her. 

“I release you.” Nettelia remarked casually, “From-“ she’d held him to so much, perhaps the same impossible standard that he held her. An end was coming, victory or defeat she wished for him to know that she bid him no ill will. “You fell in love with an ideal, a woman who’d never known suffering or heartache. Who’d never been betrayed, or felt jealousy. One who’d never had a reason to taste wrath. A woman like that is a fantasy from an old world, a dead one.” Nettelia wasn’t the person she had been then, and she didn’t wish to be. The world was cruel, it was harsh, and it was unforgiving. The truth to survival was to meet each lashing with stride, and a chin held high. “I release you. I'm sick of the fighting, frankly I don't have the energy for it anymore. Not when so much of me is needed elsewhere. We owe each other nothing now.”