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[iapetxs]

the realm characters as songs from my 90s country spotify playlist: (1/?)

neilson: mr mom (lonestar)

isiah: 5 o’clock somewhere (alan jackson)

charlene: hot mama (trace adkins)

hayden: my give a damn’s busted (jo de messina)

ashlynn: where the green grass grows (tim mcgraw)

illias: save a horse [ride a cowboy] (big and rich)

galen: pickin’ wildflowers (keith anderson)

thaddeus: no shoes, no shirt, no problem (kenny chesney)

portia: little bitty (alan jackson)

holden: achy breaky heart (billy ray cyrus) 

el: great day to be alive (travis tritt)

adela: T-R-O-U-B-L-E (tavis tritt)

celine: man i feel like a woman (shania twain)

halle: ready to run (dixie chicks)

hypatia: kiss this (aaron tippin)

janelle: wild one (faith hill)

mina: that don’t impress me much (shania twain)

serafina: queen of my double wide trailer (sammy kershaw) 

elwinn: friends in low places (garth brooks)

oberon: some girls do (sawyer brown) 

prisca: goodbye earl (dixie chicks) 

cason: chicks dig it (chris cagle)

elinor: piece of my heart (faith hill)

enyo: bye bye (jo dee messina)

pierce: dust on the bottle (david lee murphy)

phyllis: she’s got it all (kenny chesney)

ambrose: fishin in the dark (nitty gritty dirt band) 

[iapetxs]

Rough by st4rbucks

[iapetxs]

elinor-ptolemy:

His words brought a terrible calm to her mind, and still tears fell silver-bright and cold down her cheeks.  Dark eyes peered from behind her hands, and she watched the moon throw light into the sea have the ink-black waters throw it back again.  She spoke, and her voice was even and soft and lost.  “Then there is nothing to hope for.”

Her eyes lost the rest of their light as her words echoed across the white sand, her momentary vitality slipping away before this revelation.  All that held her upright was the weak grip of her hands in the king’s tunic, an intimate touch that would have shamed her had she been in her right mind, and his own warm hands.  (Was this a father’s care?  Had she ever been given such a thing?)  She rested her cheek against his chest, eyes unseeing and half-lidded.  “There is no rest, no reprieve.  We are lost, and no one will seek us, and that’s all there is now.”  She hardly felt awake, and if she woke in her bed the next morning, she would imagine this had all been a dream.

       Funny how mortals’ minds worked, how the gods’ will had become the end-all, be-all for them. When he and his siblings had ruled the world, it had not been so; they had been in the background, overseeing all rather than meddling in everyday activities. How had Zeus and his kin over-exerted their powers and ruined this once self-sufficient race, twisting through their lives so much that they thought there was no salvation without them?

      How depressing. 

      Iapetus idly petted the girl’s blond locks, wondering how she would react to know that she was crying in the arms of the titan of mortality. Would she be repulsed? Comforted? Terrified? He shook his head, gold swimming in and out of his vision. 

      “No, child,” he replied mildly, closing his eyes. And still, there it was, seared into his eyelids. It no longer bothered him as much; he accepted it, let the vision wash over him like ocean waves. Acceptance always hurt so much less than a fight. “Hope lives on, and she is beautiful.” His lips quirked, a private joke she would never understand. His eyes opened and he saw into the black night, not looking down at the golden head tucked against his chest. “She is ours. As are our lives. The gods have always been useless; this is all there ever should have been. No one should need to find you but yourself.” 

cracking | elinor & isiah

[iapetxs]

elinor-ptolemy:

Sobs shook her shoulders, though no sound escaped her lips.  She felt hollow and lifeless as the wild, dead reeds that grew where the river met the shore, lost to winter’s bite.  The king drawing her closer made her curl into herself with a hand covering her eyes, shame written in every curve of her body, every aching breath.  She felt the warmth of his body close to hers and longed for her not-mother, for a time and a place where she could have accepted kindness without question, or touch without fear.  “Oh gods, that I might sleep and not live this half-life anymore…”  She murmured brokenly, her words quiet and desperate as a prayer.

      Poor thing. Iapetus observed her silently with vague detachment, as one would watch another person’s crying child. It was a sad sight, truly, but he had children enough that he only sighed and touched his palm to the back of her head; her sleep-tousled curls tickled his palm, soft. “Do not entreat the gods, my child,” he murmured lowly, gazing at the water and seeing gold. Gold, gold, gold. “The gods are cruel, capricious creatures who would not lift a finger to save a life.” He breathed in; the crack deepened, the throne splintering before his eyes. 

                       “They are dead and we killed them.” 

cracking | elinor & isiah

[iapetxs]

elinor-ptolemy:

The king extended his hand to her, and she could no more resist his touch than the sea could resist the pull of the moon.  There were some things buried too deep in her marrow to ever dig out, and obedience without question was the strongest of them.  And so she let him draw her nearer, shuddering at the warmth in his touch as if she’d never felt warmth in her life.  She swallowed, unshed tears aching in her throat, and shook her head.  Her voice, when it at last came, was a broken sob that only he could hear.  “I see that I am mad.  I am lost and I am mad.”  How else could she explain the dreams of silence and seeking?  How else could she explain that she had left her house to find a face in the river, a face she recognized but could also not remember?  What was this, if not madness?

      “... Aye.” His eyes focused in to take in the sight of the girl, the dark smudges under her eyes and the tangle of her silver-gold hair. She didn’t see his cracked throne, the vision that had long since driven him past the point of distraction. It wasn’t what was plaguing her dreams, sending her from her bed in the middle of the chilly night; it was something else that was making her unwind and fall apart. Perhaps it was nothing and she was simply, as she said, going mad. It wouldn’t be surprising, given that every time he saw the quiet little thing, there seemed to be another touch of hopelessness lurking under her pale face. 

      The throne reappeared in his mind, golden and destroyed and unrelenting. Leave, leave, leave. His mind was no longer his own, plagued by images he could not ignore. Hardly the first time, but he’d hoped long ago would be the last---

                                                                             out!

      Iapetus clenched his jaw, turning away from the girl and back to the water. Wordlessly, he drew her closer and tucked the edge of his cloak around her shoulders. Tiny thing, trembling like a leaf. “I think we both may be.”

cracking | elinor & isiah

[iapetxs]

elinor-ptolemy:

There was something missing, something lost.

Elinor felt its absence in every breath, sought its shape in every shadow.  She had been so long without healthy sleep that her body and mind were taking turns failing her, and tonight seemed to be a fatal combination of the two.  Her maid and her near-brother were gone, leaving her to stare at the near-empty bottle and its milk-white potion within, which promised violent, aching dreams and a sore heart in the morning.  She did not drink of it, choosing exhaustion over that opiate nightmare.  Her mind turned and twisted as she sat in her little room and focused on that thing she had lost, hours passing before she finally stood and began to walk through the empty house, trying to remember what she’d lost.  And once she had searched the house, her feet had carried her unbidden into the streets to begin her search anew.

The moon lit her path, pulling her toward the sound of running water.  The river…something…something caught in her heart at the sound and sight of it, pain and pleasure all at once.  Her breath caught, and she reached to bring a shaking hand to the water’s surface, the cool touch bringing light to a part of her mind that felt long dormant.  A light, or perhaps a shadow…but either way, it was awakened, and just like the rest of her, could not sleep.  There!  It was there, somewhere just out of reach beneath the water!  Somewhere further down the shore!

Her feet were light and graceful over the cobblestones and bridges, her eyes desperate and anguished as she kept them on the river.  It was there, in the river…she’d lost it to the river, somewhere deep below.  What was it?  What had the water taken from her?

The path ended as the river was released into the sea, and Elinor hardly felt the change of stone to sand beneath her slippered feet.  The darkness and the light of the moon stole the gold of her hair and the pink of her cheeks and made her a wilted figure of grey and silver, haggard with lack of sleep.  She clutched her shawl tighter around her and swayed on her feet as she watched the river become the sea and wondered just how mad she had become.

But then, a voice.  Her eyes slowly tracked to the imposing figure of the Balor king, though she hardly saw him at all in the odd half-consciousness she lived in.  “I see…”  A face, in the river.  A face, that she’d…  She swallowed, shuddering and shutting her eyes as tears fell down her silver cheeks.  “I see n-nothing.”  Her voice was so faint that it could have been the whisper of the grass on the dunes, or the wind rushing over the sand.

      She lied. 

      Iapetus did not mind, sparing a glance to her tear-stained, moon-pale cheeks. The wetness on them glimmered in the moonlight and he extended a hand to her, calm when he otherwise would have been harsh. She saw something, just as he saw something; she saw, she saw, she saw--------

       The throne truly was a magnificent thing, even as it glimmered like death-glossy eyes in his mind. No real shine to it, just a glaze of---lack. A lack of something. What had given it its crack, he wondered? Had it been the swing of a hammer? Had royal brain and bone scattered over the golden expanse of it and gotten caught in its splintered surface? Had blood splattered until it grew sticky and cold? 

           Who’d sat in it? Who’d broken it? 

                                                              ... Had they broken it? 

                                                                                                           ---Did he care?

      “What do you see?” he repeated without heat, wrapping a wide palm around the slightness of her arm. His touch was careful, warm in the night’s chill, but his eyes were a thousand miles away. He stared straight through her at the vision in his mind, haunting in a way he couldn’t touch. 

cracking | elinor & isiah

[iapetxs]

cracking | elinor & isiah

ἐξαίσιος (exaisios) beyond what is ordained or fated | for inspiration, listen here A vision of grandness crumbled; a taste that something is cracking. Both Isiah and Elinor feel it, albeit in different ways. Isiah cannot get the image of a golden, cracked throne from his mind, while Elinor sees something else… An echo of a memory from a life so similar to her own, yet so different… The pair run into each other and, sensing each are experiencing something similar, are stuck with each other’s company, if only for a moment.

@elinor-ptolemy

      Iapetus stared out at the sea, unseeing. He’d been dragged from his bed by the persistent itch of intrusive thoughts that were not his own, images of splintered gold haunting his mind every time he closed his eyes. It had lingered and lingered and lingered, stealing the peace from his mind and the weariness from his bones. He’d pulled himself from his wife’s sleeping embrace because of it, sliding into his boots and fastening his cloak as the vision took him walking. 

      The soft brush of footsteps in the sand drew his attention, hand falling to the hilt of his sword even though some instinct told him that it was unnecessary. And it truly was; he could scarcely imagine a less threatening figure than Lady Ptolemy in the moonlight, pale and wide-eyed as a doe. 

                             It was those eyes that drew his attention. The distance in them.

      With a sigh, he half-turned back to the rolling black waves. His whole mortal life, they had given him comfort. Now, they failed to soothe his mind. Just the way everything else did, just as no food, no wine, not even the touch of his wife’s lips had been able to pull the image from his mind. And something told him that he wasn’t the only one seeing things, if the girl’s gaze was as faraway as it seemed. 

      “Do you see it too, lass?” he asked, voice soft as he watched the water lap at the shore. In his mind, the throne lingered. Glorious, lavish, useless.

[iapetxs]

minalariviere:

Her expression brightened at the sound of one of few familiar voices she was actually glad to hear. “I’m as busy as Zion was when he was King,” she replied with a smile. “Though at least I’m not stealing other people’s gold. Or wives.”

She sat up straight, watching with a smirk as the crimson liquid filled her cup. “The only thing I regret about all this,” she explained, lifting the cloche of the plate on the table, “it’s that now it’s a bit harder to find these little sandwiches. Let’s hope these are as good as the ones from the Keep.” 

      “Any little sandwiches are better than no little sandwiches,” Iapetus replied with a shrug, taking a sip of his wine and motioning for his companion to pick a sandwich for herself before he went ahead. It was only fair. 

      He favored the setup of Mina’s tent, with all its plush little pillows and rugs. And given that there was often very little for him to do after the middle of the day had passed---there we only so many orders he could issue to the independently-functioning Ironmoor citizen’s clustered together, trying to live their lives as they normally would---he got to enjoy those plush pillows and heady wine rather often. 

      “Rumors keep spilling in,” he noted, finally taking a little sandwich for himself. “Attempts at escape are futile, everyone who runs disappears or dies.” He sighed, making a grand motion with his sandwich. “So it is willed. Anything we can do, in your expertise?”

[iapetxs]

elpisxelysia:

           Stars, he was tall. She had to tilt her head back to even be able to look at the man—she knew who he was, of course she did. She’d seen him often enough in the company of her lady Mina. He was Isiah Balor to many, Iapetus to some.  “I don’t doubt that I am indeed in good company,” she murmured, eyes flickering from his face to the woods. “But many a good man have ventured into that forest these past days, and they did not come out…” Who was to say he would be granted a different fate?

          “I have heard nothing that I think you’ve not heard as well, milord.” She knew nothing worthwhile, no new rumors, no special, secret facts. “Strange sightings, disappearances, bodies…”

       She was right. Iapetus touched his fingertips to her shoulder before shaking his head, guiding her away from the misleadingly welcoming leaves. The forest was no longer a friend to any, not even to those who’d taken refuge there for months. Best to keep away from it. 

      “Nothing new, then,” Iapetus confirmed with a sigh, looking down ( down, down ) to meet the young woman’s gaze. “What were you doing at the edge of the forest, young priestess? Times are dangerous... And surely, the High Priestess would be distressed if anything happened to you.” 

[iapetxs]

She scares the hell out of me and calms my soul at the same time. Maybe that’s what love is—a total contradiction that somehow balances out.

Tammara Webber, Where You Are

[iapetxs]

I remember a time when I was brighter than the Sun      deeper than the Sea           wider than the Sky               higher than the Mountains. I remember I was countless and everlasting as the Stars. I remember a time when we were stronger than Atlas      wiser than Prometheus           gentler than Hestia               greater than Zeus. I remember we were better than all of Olympus put together. I remember a time when the world was sweeter than sugarcane      prettier than roses          holier than prayers                quieter than mornings. I remember it was soft as the touch of your lips on mine. I remember,  I do,  but sometimes, I confess it feels less like a memory of the past and more like       a fantasy      a fever dream

while you were here ( j.p. )

[iapetxs]

elpisxelysia:

         “What… What do you mean, I look scared?” Elysia raised a brow. “I am scared. Can you blame me? The rumors…” A shudder ran through her, which she tried to hide, but it didn’t quite work.

      “No need for fear,” Iapetus replied, though his eyes flicked to the edge of the forest. His lips tightened. “You are in good company.” 

     “Though I am curious... what have you heard?”

[iapetxs]

minalariviere:

Time had passed while she remained secluded, away from the outside world. Lazily slouching on her chair, the priestess limited herself only to listen to the soft wind playing with the thin fabric of the tent, just as she’d been doing for the last couple of weeks. It was clear how many of the visitors and the very own citizens of Westedell had vanished into thin air after the battles, the fires and the executions, giving place for peace and silence to finally settle in these unholy lands. 

Though… Such calmness was suddenly interrupted by steps, not as delicate as the steps of the priestesses looking after Mina in her idleness. 

A thief, perhaps? An assassin? A child of the Gods, or maybe one of the Gods themselves? Either of them would be annoying if they attempted to take her from her rest. “Hm?” Her eyebrows raised in a sort of welcoming gesture, as she opened her eyes and softly slurred a few words. “I haven’t asked for a jester, yet.” 

      “And yet you shall receive one,” Iapetus replied, lifting the pitcher of wine and pair of goblets he had in tow. It was an odd state of existence they were currently inhabiting, so little they had left to do after the killings and the fires now that they were stuck inside of Westedell. 

             It was an excellent time for drinking. 

     “At least, you will after we get through this pitcher,” he amended, loping over and settling down beside her reclining form. He poured the priestess a cup and held it out, lips quirking. “I hope I am not interrupting your busy schedule, Your Majesty?”

[iapetxs]

Alexander Skarsgård for Men’s Health (UK) [August, 2016]

[iapetxs]

[iapetxs]

coeusxcoleman:

          Fine day. Coleman supposed it was. His eyes flickered up to the blue sky, the few fluffy clouds that lazily drifted past were as white as snow. He wondered if it was storming back at Ironmoor. Likely—but he preferred it that way.

          Coleman followed his brother’s gaze to the remains of the Lion’s Keep, but there was no sensation of success as his gaze grazed over the ruins. “Yes,” he replied, his voice strangely hollow before he forced a smile on his lips and repeated himself. “Yes, indeed.” He did sound a bit better, this time.

          He dug through one of his pockets and produced a small, gold-covered coin. A lily on one side, the stem carving a certain pirate queen’s name, a ship on the other, framed by words in a language only few of those in the Realm would recognize. “If I can not bend heaven, I will raise hell,” the once-titan muttered as he presented the coin to his brother. “Who do you think this belongs to?”

      There was something off about his brother. Iapetus turned to survey him carefully, lips pulling into a frown; usually he could tell exactly what was on the other’s mind, but Coeus’s expression was---shuttered. Iapetus didn’t comment, just watched him with a careful gaze. This life had brought them even closer than they’d been, had put them in the same mortal bloodline and the same home. Hell, Iapetus had all but raised him.

      Whatever was on his brother’s mind would be offered forward when the time was right.

      The phrase, repeated in a language he hadn’t heard in quite a long while, was enough to have the older man’s brows raising in surprise. He accepted the coin with a thoughtful twist to his mouth, turning it to observe the engraved lily. Rafaela... Rhea.“... I have an idea,” he replied, the words echoing through his mind. He turned the coin, and the ship was proof enough. If I cannot bend heaven... “Have you come across Rhea in the past few weeks, perhaps?” he asked, holding the coin out between his first and second finger. “I imagine that if you’re stranded on the other side of the world from the rest of your family, all you can do is sail.” That explained why he’d met her so near the docks, at least. “The lily matches that on the letter she sent Holden weeks ago, when Zeus and Poseidon were back from the dead.”

[iapetxs]

neilsonrivers:

Neilson glanced up from his spot on the ground, flint striking against his knifepoint. “Fine day it is,” he agreed with a nod, turning his face into the sun and the wind. The air was cooling, which he much appreciated after the stifling summer days, something he would not miss when they returned to the winterlands. ( snow-capped mountains and endless white plains … it’d been far too long since he’d breathed fresh air. ) Days: he promised himself. 

Hands on his knees, he pushed himself up from the rock to stand at the man’s side. “Will be finer when we return home. Shouldn’t be long now.” The thought made him smile, and he imagined how good it would feel to truly rest with Janelle at his side. He knew the southerners planned to separate, and while the idea of seven kings and queens inspired a frown, he understood this wasn’t a fight to be had. Not when peace finally settled his people. “What of you and yours? How much longer do you expect to stay?”

      Waiting to return home; a man after his own heart. Iapetus shared the King Beyond the Keep’s smile, perhaps less sharp than anything the wildling had seen from him before. There was little reason to remain sharp, after all. Now his only plans were to return to the Ironmoor and stay there until the end of his mortal days, and if he lived a long and uneventful life, all the better. Revenge had been exacted, justice had been ( mostly ) dealt, and he could rest.

      “As soon as possible. Hell, I would have left a long, long time ago if I didn’t have work to finish. Ends to wrap up.” Iapetus grimaced, shaking his head. “I imagine your people don’t like it here much, and neither do mine. It’s time to head East and salvage our kingdom from the ruin the Vitellos left it in.” He clicked his tongue, gazing out towards where the lush forests loomed on the edge of the horizon. “I imagine you’ll do much the same?”