#threshold between silence and the oracle

[shisasan]

Ph. carlowilliamrossi + fabio.mureddu

[infjtarot]

Hierophant. Mystic Spiral Tarot

Themes and Keywords Divine instruction. Initiation. Connecting heaven and Earth. God and man. Teaching. Speaking and listening. Holding the keys. Insides and outsides. Exoteric. Threshold between realms. Bridge-making. Priesthood as mediation. Institutional structures—church and school. Astrology/Element Behind the initiatory energy of spring comes the planting and the plow, with our second sign Taurus, the bull. The constellation Taurus shows the front end of the bull only and is presumably followed by a plow. As a fixed earth sign, middle of the spring triad, it shows the stable, fertile part of the season. Like all fixed signs, it is connected with a royal watcher star, Aldebaran, which means “the follower (of the Pleiades).” The Pleiades, a star cluster of seven sisters (a reference to Venus, Taurus’s ruler) is a star cluster in the bull constellation, associated with reaping when it rises in the east and sowing when it sets in the west. Taurus is also home to the cluster of the Hyades, or seven daughters of Atlas. Aldebaran is the star of the “eye of the bull,” and the Royal Watcher of the East, bearer of the power “to keep silence.” Royal stars confer glory if their nemesis is overcome. Aldebaran’s challenge is to avoid greed and cultivate integrity, especially in business. The glyph of Taurus looks like the head and horns of a bull. The moon is exalted in Taurus and the glyph shows the circle of the full moon and the crescent of the new moon, showing the sign’s fecundity. The motto of Taurus is “I have” and has an association with resources and materiality, but also sacred bonding with the land. The bull is a symbol of strength and fertility. Bull worship was significant in Egypt, as the prime god Osiris was sometimes depicted with a bull’s head, and the priests carefully selected living bulls to represent the god on earth. Mythology/Alchemy The word hierophant is defined as an interpreter and priest of arcane and sacred knowledge, especially pertaining to the priest of the Eleusinian mysteries. Taurus is ruled by Venus (Demeter), and the Eleusinian mysteries were initiation rites of worship and sacrifice, the famous secret spring rites of the agrarian cult of Demeter and Persephone in ancient Greece. The rites were in a threefold cycle, which represented Persephone’s abduction: the descent, the search, and her ascent and reunion with her mother. The mysteries involved visions and explorations of the state of the afterlife, and they are postulated to be induced through the use of psychedelic drugs, with the priest handing out the entheogens and interpreting the visions. The priest filled two vessels, pouring one toward the east and one toward the west, as the worshipers looked to sky and earth and shouted, “Rain and conceive!” In the subsequent ritual of the divine child, a child was initiated from the divine hearth fire, and it was proclaimed that Potnia (“Mistress”; a Greek term of honor used to address revered females and goddesses) had born a great son. At the high point of the ritual, an ear of grain was cut in silence. The mysteries were intended to elevate man from the mundane realm to that of godhood by linking him with divinity and conferring immortal status. Some scholars also link the mysteries to a Minoan cult—a reference to the mythical King Minos, of the labyrinth and Minotaur story. In the legend, King Minos’s Queen Pasiphaë, a sister of Circe and daughter of Helios who was worshiped as an oracle and diviner and practitioner of the magical arts, was cursed by Poseidon to love a white bull and thus conceived the half-man, half-bull Minotaur. Susan T. Chang

[floriealis]

Sunlight, soft as breath on glass, dissolving into the edges of afternoon. Penelope — pressed in shadow, in silk, in hesitation — stepped into the Bridgerton conservatory and found the world had stilled. As if Mayfair itself had exhaled, and now waited. Roses whispered their perfume into the air— lush, aching. But it was something else that curled in the hush between stone and bloom. Not quite memory. Not yet desire. Perhaps the ache of becoming. And Sophie Baek— Still. Folded. Composed. A portrait, not painted but survived. Not beautiful in the way girls were taught to be beautiful— no powdered perfection, no gilded noise. She was beautiful like dusk was beautiful: quiet, inevitable, refusing applause.

Penelope hovered. Unmoored. Forget-me-not dress suddenly too loud, too chosen. She wanted to shrink from herself, from her frills and her fictions, and sink into the wall of roses where no one knew her name— neither Penelope Featherington nor Lady Whistledown. “        I’m not intruding, am I?        ” she said, a lie shaped like a question. She had already crossed the threshold. Sophie turned. Only slightly. An orbit adjusting, not welcoming. And still, Penelope sat— awkward, fluttering, counterfeit calm. Her hands a parody of composure in her lap. Her insides a fluttering thing, the same kind that Colin once sparked— but not the same.

The silence returned, heavy as velvet. Penelope — chatterbox, secret-keeper, ink-stained oracle — had never met a quiet she couldn’t drown. But Sophie did not seem to need saving from the silence. And Penelope— Penelope wasn’t sure if she did either. Not anymore. Still, it frightened her. Not ballroom-fright. Not mama’s-eyes-on-you fright. The fright of looking into still water, and seeing your own face blink back— unmasked. “        I’ve always liked it here,        ” she said, half to Sophie, half to the air blooming behind them. “        The conservatory. The only place in Mayfair where one may be alone, and yet utterly surrounded by life.        ” She meant: This is the only place I can breathe. She meant: Please see me. Penelope didn’t expect for Sophie to answer. But her profile — lit soft with the amber mourning of the sun — was carved from truth. From honesty. From something Penelope had never dared put on the page. 

She looked down. Hands twisting. Words threatening to spill like ink from a split bottle. “        You’re not like the others.        ” A whisper. A wound. “        You move through this world like you’re not afraid of it.        ” Not a compliment. A confession. No reply needed. It wasn’t a conversation. It was an undoing. Penelope had worn masks so long she forgot the shape of her own mouth. Cleverness was armor. Wit was armor. Lady Whistledown had been a fortress of words with no doors, no windows, no softness. But Sophie— Sophie had no armor. And still she survived.  Maybe that was what made Penelope ache. Maybe that was what made her stay.

She swallowed. Hard. Bitter. “        I think I came out here to be alone,        ” she said. A sentence dressed in ink and falsehood. Because the truth — the wild, unedited truth — was this: She was tired of being alone. Alone with ghosts. Alone with pages. Alone in rooms full of people who never looked twice. She was tired of being seen only when hidden. And Sophie— Sophie saw. And stayed. Still. Always. / @sopineun liked for a starter ﹥ 「 ♡ 」 !

[tar-oh]

Pick a Pile: What You Need To Know

Well, this is my second time posting this because the first time was before I even got everything on the post. Apparently accidentally hitting enter means it will post it, which is something that took over a decade on tumblr for me to figure out lol. Sometimes tumblr’s formatting frustrates me to NO END!!! I’m going to keep this brief since it’s my second time trying to post this: This is a smaller PAP with 3 piles looking into what you need to know at the moment. I find these extremely helpful because not only do they bring to light things that might be overlooked otherwise, but they also help me get more into the groove of readings again.

I also need to post a small disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes. Not all of this is going to come true for everyone since it’s a general reading. Please take it with a grain of salt. If you do find that it resonates, I do readings starting at $6. DM if you’re interested. I also accept tips if you feel as though you want to (but they’re obviously not required). You can tip me here:  cashapp $sararms paypal: paypal.me/sararms So, for the 3 piles, I have 3 Sandra Bullock movie posters because why not?! Choose away:

Pile 1:

Cards: 7 of wands, the moon, 10 of wands, alter, rooted (reversed), intuition (reversed), conviction, seeing the best, divine timing, vitality, following your heart, self-love "You gonna cry about it or boss up?" "Look at the fuckin' moon!" "There are people who dislike you because you don't dislike yourself." I haven't even gotten to pile 3, but I keep wanting to call you pile 3, so I think maybe if you were torn between the two piles, I'd check that one out too because there might be something over there for you as well. This 7 of wands is interesting. She's sitting like she's meditating or something, and she's in a bubble. I think this is you, kind of doing your own thing, trying hard not to get distracted by external things. And, maybe you are being distracted really easily right now, and maybe the moon comes into this with you worrying that if you're distracted you're going to have more trouble (whatever that means for you), and it'll end up being the stress of having to carry all of those wands? But, this 10 of wands is always interesting to me too, because she's not carrying all of the wands. In fact, a few of them light the path up the hill. 3, to be exact, and if we subtract 3 from 10, it's 7. So we're back where we started, with that 7 of wands. I think there's a message in here telling you to find the balance between trying to do it all yourself and allowing yourself to drown in whatever "it all" is for you, but also, being able to tune "it all" out too? Like, she looks like she’s sitting in a snow globe in the 7 of wands. I know it's supposed to be a circle of protection, a defense system, but I see a snow globe here. And there's a wand, poking at it. So, it's like the outside world is trying desperately to get to you. And, maybe it's not even bad. Maybe it's you closing yourself off because there are all these fears so then you're trying to do things on your own, independently. But, I think the message in that, along with finding a balance, is that there are people who see you struggling and trying to tackle all this by yourself and they want to help. They want to help carry those remaining 7 wands, but you're so stubborn about it. There's a need to let some things go. Maybe, not taking too much on your plate right now. I got the deck Spiritual AF, and I wanted to try and pull only about 2 cards for these piles, but 3 came out for you. They're kind of interesting. One corresponds with the moon, because it literally says "Look at the fuckin' moon!!!", and I think that's saying literally look at the moon. Maybe you feel a connection to the moon or just other things in outer space? But I also think it's telling you to take a moment and sit in silence, kind of like the lady on the 7 of wands. A moment of taking in the good things, and surely the moon is a good thing? It illuminates the night sky. I just accidentally typed night school, lol so maybe some of you are taking night courses? Is that a thing anymore? Or maybe if you're in school you do a lot of your work at night? I personally do, so maybe there is a draw to the moon. Maybe you feel more energy under it? The other cards from the Spiritual AF deck are interesting too. One is, "You gonna cry about it or boss up? (Pro tip: Do both.)" I think this is kind of less advice and more what you're doing right now. I see that in the 10 of wands. I think you're working through your discomfort. That's not the word I was originally looking for, but I think for some of you it is discomfort. But, for all, I see it as you working through the challenges. I think the message in that, is again, you don't have to take it all on on your own. Also, that you don't need to bottle up that discomfort. There are people trying to get into your globe to help you. For a small bit of you, it's not people trying to get into your snow globe to help, instead I feel like it's people who are egging you on and maybe they're the reason behind you working so hard. Like, you're trying to prove to them something. The other card from the Spiritual AF deck was "There are people who dislike you because you don't dislike you." For those that have people who are trying to get to you instead of helping, I think this is just a message to 1) keep up the hard work but also 2) make sure you are balancing it, though. I think there's a fine line between working hard and overworking, and I think you're at that threshold. Some have already crossed it. I definitely get a tired feeling from the moon and the 10 of wands. But, because this particular 10 of wands doesn't look like it's as much as a struggle as other versions I've seen, I can see that it's like close to being that struggle. So, you need to be careful you don't get there. Take care of your mental health, please. With the witches oracle, two cards fell out reversed before I could fully ask the question. I hesitated to take them, but I don't often get reversals with this deck, so I felt that it was for you. And, to be honest, they make sense to me. Especially rooted reversed and alter. Alter talks about literally making an alter to talk to spirit, or, making a sacred space within yourself. I kind of think of it as a safe space, like when you meditate or when you're able to just sit in silence, or even just listening to music. Whatever it is you do to unwind when things get really stressful. And, if you don't have something like that, I think you need to figure something out. There's a wide variety of things you can do. For me, painting, journaling, yoga/pilates, or even just listening to my favorite music is how I help calm myself down. Sometimes even going on a walk. It doesn't have to just be sitting and breathing, it's gotta be what feels right for you, ya know? So, that being said, I think once you're able to find this safe space for yourself, you'll start to hear messages. Whether it's from outside of you, or within your own mind. Intuition being reversed tells me you're having issues following it right now. I think getting that safe space is going to help you start to hear your intuition, or at least follow it better. To stop doubting it. I understand how that can be hard, I personally need cold hard facts before I can follow my intuition. I find that when I don't follow it because I lack sufficient evidence for my mind to think it's worth following, my intuition always ends up being right in the end. So, I think you're being asked to stop doubting yourself and your intuition. But, then there's a few of you who are daydreaming or are up in your head too much. So much so, you're lacking action. Maybe this is in the form of procrastination, too. Which, hey we're all guilty of that once and a while. But I think this is a call for you to be more action-oriented than. The booklet for the witches oracle mentions that this message is especially true if rooted is pulled too, which, it was. However, it, too, was reversed. So, I don't think it's a message for all of you. I think it's for a few. For all, though, even those who are trying this already, you need to find a way to better ground yourself. I personally have a few carnelians that just holding helps me feel more connected to my body. But, other things too. I listen to water, like waves. I do it with homework. Specifically Lake Superior waves because it's a lake I've been to, so I feel more connected to it. But, it could be anything for you. Water noises like waves or waterfalls. Birds? Even traffic noises. There's a need to feel whole within your body (something I have issues with a lot, myself, so I'm right there with you), as well as feeling safe to? I think some affirmations might help, because once they stick in your head you start to believe them. Something like, "I am safe. I am grounded. I am whole." These are a few things. I think you should look into other things because these are just my own ideas and I think it's going to be different for all. I also got two of those Affirmations! decks, the normal one and the creativity one. I wanted to pull a couple creativity cards for you guys who are into creative stuff, but I think they can apply for all of you. These two cards are Conviction, and Seeing the Best. Seeing the Best talks about taking something you have made and seeing only the good qualities in it, even if you think it's absolute garbage. It's about being proud of what you've made, but also your accomplishments, no matter how big or small. I think if you've been feeling like you're almost overworked, this is something needing to be done. Like, sitting down and mapping out all that has been done by you so far. I think you'll find, once you've done this, that you've accomplished so much and that sometimes it's hard to see in the moment, but those accomplishments are still there, no matter what. Conviction talks about being as authentic as you can be. Being yourself and not watering that down for anyone. I think with seeing the best, it means that those little quirks you have that other people don't, are so good. They're yours, and yours alone, so why would you want to hide them? They make you you. So, if maybe part of this stress and having people dislike you for being you (which, hey if that's happening, fuck them!!! You let Sara know who it is so she can give them a talking to!!!!), I think you're meant to take what makes you stand out and shout it louder than you have been. As that card states, people are going to dislike you for being you, right? So, why would you give into that? I personally think the best revenge (and the card even says this) is to just keep being you. I hate having to conform and I hate being told what to do, so to me that is perfect revenge. The biggest Fuck You that you could possibly dish out. The regular Affirmation! cards are following your heart (!!! intuition!!! being you!!!), vitality, and divine timing. Not gonna lie, when divine timing fell out I had to groan. That paired with the moon made me think that this was my pile, lol. Like, I'm so sick of having to be patient, but this message is that you need to know that this work will pay off. That you following your heart and your intuition will not lead you somewhere you don't want to be. Rather, it will lead you to exactly where you want to be and where you're meant to be. I think there's something you're being prepared for, but the moon tells me it's not supposed to be known yet. With all those cards about getting grounded and following your intuition, I'd say you're being prepared for something. I can't tell you what, because, like I said. You're not meant to know yet. It's supposed to be a surprise! And, damn do I hate hearing that, so if you do too, don't worry. You're not alone. We're just not meant to know yet. But, with two wands cards and one being a 10, I'd say you're close to ending a cycle or are in the process of doing so. Even though the intuition reversed can talk about all thinking and no acting, I think that was where you needed to be prior to right now, and now, you're meant to act. That's going to be different for everyone, because this is still a super vague reading. It's pretty general and I'm sure many people can find something within this, but depending on what's going on in your life, you're being asked to act. I also think vitality is asking you to act too. It talks about being alive and being grateful for that. So, I think it's telling you, you're alive, so you might as well act. Which, again, I kind of hate that message too, but clearly I'm getting it for myself as well lol, so if you're in the same boat as me. Your wild offering card was self-love, and I definitely was getting that vibe overall from this pile. I mean, from being told to value who you are and not to water it down for anyone, to being told to find your safe space and ground yourself, I think it's just overall telling you that you need to be your #1 priority. This is going to mean different things for everyone, again. Like, first off, you all do need to ground yourself, or work on it more. But also, making sure you don't have too much to handle right now, and learning when to ask for help. Self-love isn't easy at all, and sometimes I find we're our worst enemy. But, those are the times when we need to love ourselves the most, right? So, I'm just here to remind you that you're a wonderful person and that you are whole and okay. Please take care of yourselves! I love you guys! Really, I truly do, and I want you to love you too! Also, side note, again, with that self-love card, I'm thinking you need to look at the moon, or the stars. Or just, the night sky. Hell, even the day-sky. Also, I'm noticing that there are more blues and greens in this spread than other colors. Or just, less color than there could be, especially warm colors like red. I think that's another sign that maybe carnelians are good for you, or anything red? Like, red, orange, yellow (bright yellow). Idk! Just a thought! Also, I'm meant to tell you that with the divine timing, you're being watched over. Whether that's by the universe or a higher power or your ancestors? The bottom deck card for the witches oracle was the ancestors card which talks about being watched over, bottom deck for wild offering was trust, and your bottom deck for the tarot was 3 of swords. So, for some of you (or all of you?) you're feeling a lot of pain/heartbreak over a situation right now. Or, in the recent past you were. I think these are just saying, "hey, we see your pain and brighter days and things are ahead", so again. Being prepared for something, but something good I think. Just remember to take care of yourself in the mean time! I didn’t write down as many songs as I normally do, so I’m only doing 1 for each pile and yours was House on Fire by Black Taxi. Not sure how it applies to you, but there might be something within the lyrics? Or you may like it! Who knows! I know it was part of my huge playlist of like 1800+ songs and so it wasn’t a song I’d heard in years, so I was surprised! Pile 2:

cards: the devil, temperance, 9 of pentacles, journey, wolf, good things to come, everyone's a teacher, vitality, bravery, trust "Sometimes crushing it means asking for help" "You are the product of what you believe." "Your gut knows what's up. Trust that bitch." Right away, with that devil card, I'm hearing "A wolf in sheep's clothing". So, either someone is lying to you about who they truly are, or you're lying to someone? Someone is lying here. And, I'm not sure if it's entirely too bad. I definitely see that with this devil card comes a lot of temptation. Like, this one is a hot guy just kind of holding his hand out saying "Here, take my hand.", but like with taking his hand comes maybe a less than ideal situation? Whoever this is, they have mesmerizing eyes, so if this is someone lying to you, that's a clue. Light colored eyes too, like a really light blue or gray, maybe even green? That's not going to be for all of you, but for someone out there...Watch out. Two major arcana...I'm getting some Sagittarius and Capricorn vibes, especially Capricorn with the devil and the 9 of pentacles. So, aside from that message about someone lying, I read this as someone trying to balance out their materialistic side? Like, maybe they have a lot of abundance right now and they're tempted to spend money they don't need to be spending on things they don't need? The 9 of pentacles talks about stability, like independent stability. It's often read as a person who's single. But, this card is reversed, so it could be about....Oh. Okay, for some this is about a relationship where there is shared finances. I'm seeing this as trying to balance it out, between saving and spending. Like, knowing when you can indulge and when you need to hold back. But, for some, it's also just someone in your life trying to control your finances. Like, I think you are fairly independent, especially with what you make financially, but there is someone who is mooching off of you, or maybe just controlling how you deal with your earned finances? With the temperance, I think it's you finding where to allow interference and where not to. For some, it's not about money at all, and about a relationship, whether its between you and someone who is really controlling. For some this could be an abusive situation, but for most I think it's just that one of you has a tendency to try and control things. Maybe it's like, you're the 9 of pentacles and maybe it's reversed for you because you bend easily? Like, maybe you're a people pleaser and so, its like this devil energy comes in and is easily able to control you. For some it's bad, like manipulative. For others, it's just not on purpose. Maybe they just have a personality that just kind of is louder than yours? For some this is you being tempted by this devil character. Like, it could be someone you're really attracted to, and so maybe it's learning how to tame the temptation/attraction? But, this 9 of pentacles suggests that maybe...I don't think you need to tame it? I think it's like, you do need to find a good balance (again, so much balance!), but that this temptation in moderation isn't a bad thing, in fact, it's a good thing? Like, I get that some of you are needing to loosen up (lmao, me too, though) so this devil comes over, lends a hand with that. Which. Oof. Okay, definitely getting a lot of sexual energy here. Like at first I was joking a little like, oh that devil is hot! But now I'm like. Ooo. Okay, like really hot. Like I get a lot of attraction here between you two and I haven't even pulled more cards lmao, so while for some this is about materialism and controlling it and what not, for most its about another person. This person is super sunny too. Like, originally I was going off of the "wolf in sheep's clothing" (which could very well still ring true) and like go off of more darker meanings of the devil, but I think for most this is just a case where there's this person who is just super devilishly charming? Like, have you ever met anyone like that? Because I've met a few and PHEW. It's always something. So, I think to add to that, I think they're just really sunny. Like, have you ever met anyone who an embodiment of the sun to you? Again, I've met a few and it's always something. So, to say this person is something is an understatement. There's so much green so far, too. So I'd say this person is going to bust open your heart. Make it melt a little. I'm really warm, so, make you sweat a little. The bottom of the tarot is the emperor, so !! Yes. This person is kind of the Real Deal. A sunny person who also has a super seductive quality to them. They may get to be a little controlling, I don't think they mean it though, so make sure your boundaries are strong. This person wears boots for some of you, or like, they have a pair they like to wear. Maybe hiking boots? For most I see timbalands lmao Also tattoos and darker hair colors. Longer hair too. Their skin is darker, or they tan well. Don't take this to heart, this could just be for a few of you. The most interesting thing has happened. I pulled the wolf card in the witches oracle deck, which is so funny because I got that saying, "a wolf in sheep's clothing" in my head. And, I think this might be that there are two groups of you. So, I'll try to be as clear as possible. The first is that this is someone who may come off one way, but is actually another. This person is good though. I don't think they meant to come off the first way, and it could very well be an assumption on your part. We all do that sometimes. The other group is dealing with someone who, again, is coming off one way but is another. This one is not so good. I don't get horrible vibes, though. I just get that they're not as good as the person the other group is dealing with. This person I think is a test in your believes and your self-worth. Well, I think they both are, but one is karmic and is here to teach you to love yourself and to put yourself first. The other (the “good” one), while they're here to teach you that, I think they're also here to learn it with you rather than just teach you. I also am thinking that you will know which group you’re in, even if it hasn't started for you yet? The wolf card in the witches oracle talks about trusting ones instinct. You got another card that literally tells you to follow your gut, so that part where I said you will know which group your apart of? Yeah. You will. If you don't and you're in a situation that may be similar to this, then maybe this isn't really your pile and maybe you're meant to come back to this at a later date? Oh. Ear is ringing, so yeah. If you're reading this and are unclear about what it is, either come back another day/time, or check out another pile for now. If you do know, then please stay lol. Another card that suggests, to me, that you know what's going on, is trust. It talks about trusting oneself and the process one is going through. Divine timing wanted to come out but, I put it back because it was a part of a chunk of cards, so I was like if it needed to work its way out, it would. And, it did in a way. This Trust card suggests it to me. So, if this is a connection and you're feeling impatient, you're meant to trust this process and try to be patient about it. Whether that is about getting away from this person (if you are part of the group where they’re not so great), or things moving forward with them (if they are “good”). Everyone's a Teacher talks about learning things from everyone you meet. This reinforces the idea to me that this this person was put into your life to teach you something, and I think one of those things is learning how to trust your intuition. Another is loving yourself and knowing you're enough. The "being enough" card says just that, that you are enough. "You are enough. Nowhere to go, nothing to get, nothing to change. No need to grow more deserving. You, yes you, are Love." So for the group of you that this person is teaching you about self worth in a more deceptive way, I think this message pertains to you more. I think you need to know that. Also, "you are a product of what you believe" is telling you this too. It even talks about how if you think you're a turd, you're going to think you're a turd. So, please don't think you're a turd!!! Gross!!! You are not gross!!! And if this person makes you think that, then kick em to the curb! You can do that and still learn this lesson! You're already enough, anyway. I know it says you don't need to grow or be more, but I think it's like. You're already whole as you are, right? It's just this is a lesson that is teaching you that you need to love yourself, and so you're growing while...being told you don't need to, so its a little confusing, but its good! Journey also confirms that these are lessons! I think with Bravery, it's talking about how you're going to get more confident with this self-love you're starting to feel (for the first time or again). I think it's also going hand in hand with Vitality, like you're feeling more confident to do new things? I got vitality for the last pile, and I read that more as them being grateful. I think you are going to be feeling more grateful soon, but I also think this time it's more that maybe you're lacking energy and maybe this person either is taking it away (the wolf version), or they're restoring it (the sunny, not a wolf version lol). But, overall, for all of you this situation is going to end with something good. Whether it's that they leave your life or they stay there and add to it, something good is coming. Good things to come tells me this and I think this is just a sign that there are good things coming, but you're not meant to know what they are quite yet -which was what I got for pile 1, so some of you may want to check that one out if you were torn between the two. I do also think that this pile is learning how to ask for help when needed (another message from pile 1!)? So, even if you know in your gut if this person is for you or not, I think it doesn't hurt to get other people's advice. I just wouldn't let their advice go straight to your head and become the end-all be-all. I would take it into consideration and if your gut is saying, "yes, that is right" then, yeah! Listen to them! But if not...? Just, keep it in mind but don't take it to heart. I think this card may apply more to some of you who are having issues with finances, like those who relate to the 9 of pentacles and the devil kind of working as you having issues with overspending (because I think while this devil is another person, I also see it as a whole situation too). So, if you need help with that, it doesn't hurt to ask. I just wouldn't ask this devil person if they're not who they say they are and you know it's not the best thing for you. Gosh, I hope this is helpful and that it makes sense? I think there is a lot going on for this group, but it mostly is a situation with someone else. I want everyone to be safe, remember to keep boundaries. Follow your gut, but be safe in the process. And, remember, no matter what comes from this, you are enough! A song that got stuck in my head while doing this pile was Selfless by The Strokes. It’s a song I don’t listen to often, though I’d say it is one of my favorites by them, so it felt significant for you! Pile 3:

cards: 9 of pentacles, 8 of swords, judgement, self-sufficiency, power, get centered, beauty, forgiveness, showing up, unicorn voice, all hallows eve, banshee "Maybe you just need to shake your booty?" "Grab your own booty." "Go outside and do shit" I think some of you who picked this pile are worried you're not doing things right. Or that you're not on the right path, but you definitely are. Judgement is here to tell me that. It also tells me that there are some things that might show up from your past (like lessons) that need to be revisited, but again, this is all on your path, okay? 9 of pentacles tells me that some of you are already stable within yourself, whereas others of you are almost there. Like, literally just an arms reach away - like in the card how she’s reaching. The 8 of swords tells me you are a very logical person. I think you're in your head a lot and I think you have the tendency to overthink. This could be why you're wondering if you're on the right path, but again: you are! Again, I said that some of you are already stable within yourself, or are an arms reach away from this. By this, I mean independent. Self-sufficient. And right after I said that, the Self-sufficiency card came out for you! For some, this is a reminder that you are whole (a theme throughout all 3 piles today). For others, this is a reminder that this is where you're headed, and not to worry (another theme!!). You will get there in your own time. This card talks about relying on God, and I personally am not super religious. I consider myself somewhat spiritual, but not religious, so I'm not reading it this way. However, if this is how you want to read it, it still applies! I just think, over all, this is telling you that you're strong and reliable and when you rely on yourself, it's okay because again, you're reliable. I don't think it means to only rely on yourself, but I think it means to make sure you do when you need to. Like, you're capable of taking care of yourself and others. So, judgement and banshee paired together seem pretty powerful to me. I hate that I pull banshee for one pile every time I pull out these cards, but clearly I need to tell you this as a warning. For some this is about not allowing yourself to overthink things. That's a dangerous cycle to get stuck in. However, while it's a warning, I also see it to mean that this is a cycle that is coming to a close because it talks about endings and new beginnings. "Go outside and do shit" is just telling me that this is maybe one way for you to end this cycle. Like, to get grounded (get centered was one of your cards!), and sometimes the best way is to go outside (if it's possible where you live, it’s only just warming up here), if not just do something related to nature. Or, anything that you know/think will ground you. I think this will get you out of that 8 of swords energy, or help relieve it. Forgiveness, also, is something to think about. Banshee wanted to come out reversed, but it did so sideways, so its only for a handful of you. That handful of you are angry, and I do wonder if this independent energy you're in is your form of revenge? Either way, it's a warning to make sure you're not being vengeful. I think with power, and forgiveness, it's telling you that you're really powerful as a person and this can hurt people when used wrongly. You're being asked to forgive those who did you wrong, and to forgive yourself in the process as well. I do want to say, however, that forgiving someone does not give them the right to be in your life, however. If this is someone who you let go of because their actions/words were harmful to you, don’t just accept them back in because you forgive them. That being said, you're being asked to see your power. See that you have everything you need within you. Two of the Spiritual AF cards talk about butts, so I think you probably have a great ass so, ya know, feel good about that. But in general, I think you're a really good looking group. I mean, those paired with beauty!? And 9 of pentacles!? You're probably really beautiful! I mean, we all are, but I bet you're like STUNNING. And that independent energy, I think, is actually really drawing people in. I think this is telling you to stay true to yourself and your beliefs, and not to let anyone change you. And if this is something that happened to you in the past, forgive and let go. All Hallow's Eve, unicorn voice, beauty, power and showing up (even "grab your own butt. Love yourself") are all about self-love and loving yourself for who you are. There is a strong self-love theme throughout all the piles, but this one had the strongest. I think you're well on your way to getting there (for some, you already have a healthy dose of it), but it doesn't mean that you're not always feeling it. So, I think this is just a reminder that you're The Shit and that you're powerful and perfect just the way you are. And, I think if you're having issues seeing things this way, or having issues letting go of control (like, maybe a workaholic, I could see that for some of you), I think you're in need of shaking your ass like the "maybe you just need to shake your booty?" card suggests. It says that if you can stop taking yourself so seriously, then things can lighten up, so for some of you, you are being told to lighten up but to also remember you're the shit too. Also, a side note to say that showing up is also a card that talks about being present, but also being able to "show up" for yourself, even if that means giving yourself a few minutes to work on a project/hobby a day. Or just doing something you love. You're showing up for yourself that way, and it's important to remember that. Especially for my workaholics (I'm definitely included in that message lol). If you were drawn to any of the other piles, but this one won over the others, I really need to let you know that there are messages in the other two for you if you felt drawn to the others. I mean, even if you weren't there may be messages within them for you, but this is especially for those drawn to more than one pile. I think that this is a standalone that could go with either of the other piles to be honest. This one I think was the shortest of the 3, but it was a pretty quick one because everything tied in so nicely. So, remember, love yourself because you're the shit and that you're on the right path right now. You're self-sufficient and badass and even though you may need to keep yourself in check (please forgive and let go if at all possible!), you're still the shit! For a song for you, I got Okay by Chase Atlantic, and in my notes there’s just a “???” next to it because I’m not sure why this felt significant, but I had to write down that it came on while reading for you. Maybe you’re a Chase Atlantic fan or something, but that’s your pile’s song!

[andagii-writes]

Oracle Calling

Hydrate me with a Ko-Fi!

Summary

(inspired by Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series, as well as Supergiant Games’s Hades)

Miss Levinia is the master of The Oracle Winery, a quaint yet historic operation nestled in Napa Valley for the last couple centuries. Her day staff tends to the mortal patrons, but at night, the tasting room transitions into a haven for displaced demigods, Levinia their overseer and protector, "Switzerland," by some accounts. What begins as an uncharacteristically quiet evening quickly evolves into a night of revelation, when a specter from her past crosses her threshold. (7,501 words)

Cross-posted on AO3 and WordPress.com

Glossed lips pursed in a frown, and with deliberate severity in her gaze, tall, dark Miss Levinia stood, arms crossed, behind the bar of her winery’s tasting room. Only a faint hum pervaded The Oracle Winery, as though the evening had forgotten its role in Levinia’s routine, as well as an earlier camaraderie.

But rather than making herself maudlin by recalling those regulars—twin brats of Hades and their snuffling, oversized Cerberus pups—Levinia turned her attention to administrative catch-up. With no one barging in for asylum or medical attention for the half-divine, or even for a drink, she at least had the perfect amount of peace to attend to the tasting room’s inventory. Clipboard in hand, she wove between the wicker lounge chairs and glass-top tables, pen scratching notes on a log sheet. Wheat crackers and cheeses for the main bar. More bottles of riesling and moscato for the refrigerator at the secondary dessert bar. Prepare the menus for the upcoming seasons. Oh, and inventory the grocery bags the twins had left at the end of the main bar.

The twins had, for the first time, asked about the otherworldly fare they brought for her in those bags. What exactly did she brew with the stuff?

“You’d have to drink them to know,” Levinia had responded. “But you might find yourselves on an express ferry back to your lord father if you did.”

They asked no more and finished their drinks on their way out.

Without paying, yet again.

Shoulders heaving in a deep sigh, Levinia set aside her clipboard and unrolled the long receipt detailing the twins’ tab, readying herself for the weekly recalculations. Pen rocking between two fingers, she punched numbers on her phone’s calculator while her mind added more to the to-do list. Check the stock on the venom and hallucinogenic brews. Re-apply poison to the knives hidden under the bar top. Regular protective maintenance, though she avoided altercations whenever possible. After all, unlike most of Levinia’s patrons, The Oracle afforded her a boring life of stability and routine. The day staff, a rotating roster of demigods, maintained the vineyards, the cellars, and the tasting room, while Levinia oversaw the operation at night, when she donned her waistcoat and customer service smile, and presided over what the brats called their personal Switzerland.

Though she appreciated the mystique and respect, even ancient Miss Levinia saw distress in the face of constant monotony. She enjoyed her stability, yet the quiet made her reminisce, made her memory clear away the fog over her childhood, made her consider the stars outside as she once considered the stars above the ocean spray of her old home.

Home? She scoffed at herself. The Oracle was home. She’d made this place her home. Even halfway across the world in this foreign wine country, history ensconced her, in a petrified forest further up north, neat rows of grapevines at her flanks, and splendid wineries for miles in either direction, each lot boasting more history and grandeur than the last. Among the pueblo-style bungalows, stone castles, and even a mountaintop vineyard that required an airborne cable car for access, The Oracle Winery stood proud yet modest, little more than a glorified cottage.

Levinia, sighing, rolled her shoulders. With the tasting room’s mood lights dimmed to gentle amber flares, The Oracle needed a distraction as well, lest it fell into a fitful doze with her. Music, she thought, would lift the spirits of the place. She added that note—'hire nightly entertainment’—to her list, since she, unfortunately, never inherited her father’s knack for revelry.

As she started her calculations again, a breeze swept outside, disturbing the ivy leaves and grapevines to a gentle rustle. A visitor had arrived.

Levinia re-rolled the twins’ tab and nestled it against her register. Whatever came through her doors deserved her cordial welcome as thanks for the break in the evening. Tugging her waistcoat straight, she drew back and fastened the curlicue waves of her hair with golden ivy pins: mementos, Mother once claimed, of Father.

The doors opened. Levinia curled her lip in her customary slight smile. She started, “Welcome,” then choked in surprise. As she stared wide-eyed at the silhouette on her doorstep, her smile hardened into wariness.

She knew that broad shadow. She remembered that height.

‘No,’ she told herself, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know. That’s not—My mind’s just playing tricks.’ Just a specter from her memories. Reminiscing had never been good for her. She sucked in a sharp breath and loosened her clenched hands. What an embarrassing mistake to make of a likely regular patron. Or an enemy. ‘Come on,’ Levinia scolded herself. ‘You’re working now.’

Even while eyeing her customer, Levinia kept her tone civil. “Welcome to The Oracle Winery,” she said again, then gestured to the bar stools. “’Tis the tasting room. Have a seat; tell me what you need.”

The man stooped to clear the threshold and said nothing as he closed the door behind him. Levinia curled her lip in slight offense, but swallowed her snap. After all, most of The Oracle’s first-time patrons kept to themselves, usually out of sharp distrust. The same probably held for this man. Curled hair sprung in stray sprigs from under his hood, some shade of dark color muddied by the amber lights. His shoulders filled out the corners of his thick jacket, zipped all the way up. Despite the suffocating choice, a strange gracefulness helped the man to navigate his long legs as he turned about, apparently investigating every possible corner of The Oracle.

Levinia lowered her hand to an alcove under her counter, brushing her fingers along the handles of her hidden knives. Why survey the space so? Looking for surveillance or a way out?  Yet, strangely, no sign of intimidation came off his height or hooded visage. No anticipation prickled in his silence. Rather, Levinia thought as she drew her hand back, a welcoming gentleness surrounded him.

Which made Levinia offer her hand instead. “Shall I take your coat?”

He shook his head, electing instead to partially unzip his jacket. After a hesitant moment, hands firmly balled in his pockets, he finally spoke. “You’re not asking who I am?”

He used a gruff tone to mask his voice, but its familiarity echoed in Levinia’s ears. She choked down the knot tangling in her chest and replied, “You can tell me if you want, but I won’t ask or tell. That goes for anyone visiting at this time.”

“Say I tell you, and you realize you’d rather throw me out. Would you do so?”

Levinia grimaced at the poorly-veiled sentiment. “I can’t break my own rules, now can I? Just don’t make any trouble for me.” She held her breath, as the man slid into one of the barstools before her. “So, what can I get you tonight?”

“Just a glass,” he sighed, shoulders relaxing. “A black, if you please.”

She considered the hooded man, his head low. “A ‘black’ wine at The Oracle,” she murmured, hands on her hips, “is considered divine fare. So don’t disrespect me. Take your hood off.”

The man flinched and threw a glance over his shoulder, the motion freeing another curling lock of dark hair from his hood. “You speak so fearlessly,” he said, a chuckle lacing his voice. “Like a goddess of protection. Or a mother. Have you become one since I last saw you?”

He had dropped his gruff tone as well, opting for a natural mellow accent, one Levinia occasionally heard in her faded recollections of Father’s bedtime stories. He used to talk about foreign lands, waters, and adventures.

“I only ask,” the man hurriedly added, likely in response to Levinia’s lips pursing into a thin line, “since there was no one back home to tell me what had happened to you.”

“And just how long ago did you visit those ruins?” While she had stopped herself from spitting, a dangerous edge sharpened her voice. “And no, I’m neither goddess or mother, heaven forbid me. All I do is make and maintain the rules of my house, so again, no trouble past those doors.”

He folded his hands over the countertop, still refusing to meet Levinia’s eye. “I remember that. Your mother had a similar rule.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Stomach roiling, Levinia covered her face and counted each long second of her breath. “Just take your damn hood off, Father.”

“I—I believe you have me mistaken.”

“Let’s not play this game. You might as well be standing before me in full regalia. Where’s your wand? Your chariot? Your attendants? What happened to excelling at disguise?”

“To protect the mortal eye, yes. But you, your mother…” He finally, sheepishly, shed his hood. The rest of his curled hair, some tied back in a half-pony, cascaded over his shoulders. “Your mother had a sharp, fearless eye. You’ve clearly inherited that.”

Levinia’s stomach, which had coiled backwards, now pitched forward, as she let the specter’s words and visage sink in. She remembered that voice. That face. She hated that she’d seen through him so quickly.

Mother called him Daeon. And he hadn’t changed, even after hundreds upon thousands of years. Levinia’s lord father Dionysus, despite his languid, unshaven features, still held traces of the young father who once cradled Levinia among the vineyards. No disguise could hide the gravitas of his divinity.

Remembrance stung in Levinia’s eyes, as she ground her palm into one. She’d prepared for everything—riots, medical emergencies, death threats, ichor hunters—but not her own father’s return. Why did this have to be her distraction for the evening?

Daeon went on, his voice wavering. “Levinia,” he said, “you’ve grown so much.”

“Time does that to a little girl,” she snapped, squaring her shoulders. “You missed Mother’s deathbed.”

“I swear to you,” he said, “Hades was to notify me as soon as she arrived at Elysium, but, nothing. I even made the journey below; I was ready to bring her back.

“But she wasn’t there. You sent her off correctly, didn’t you? An obol under the tongue?”

“Even if I hadn’t, the old attendants would have made sure of it,” Levinia spat. She laid her palms flat against the countertop and counted the seconds of her breath. In, slowly. Then out. “So let’s face the truth, shall we? You were too afraid to watch her go.”

“Not true. I knew where she was headed.”

“Then why? How hard could it have been? We lived on Olympus’s doorstep! Just a few steps outside, Father, and you could have seen Mother off yourself!”

Mother, who, after Father had disappeared that distant morning, waited upon the balcony every night and stared across the sea. She wistfully called it “The Promised Spot.” Yet that soft longing eventually hardened into bitter anger, solid until her final breaths when she begged Levinia to look after the family’s treasures.

The memories prickled into fury. Levinia stepped back from the bar top. Heaved another deep breath. Her staff called her tough, but, she reminded herself, the master of The Oracle Winery operated with far more finesse and impersonality regardless of the customer she faced. She straightened her back and cleared her throat. “Pardon me,” she said. “I’ll get you your drink.”

Taking a glass from the rack, Levinia knelt below as she guessed her father’s expression. Despairing, hopefully. Or guilty. Regretfully reminiscing. Self-pity, she told herself, she’d slap.

Above her, Daeon released a burdened sigh. “I had a theory,” he said, “that perhaps her soul had wandered elsewhere. You sent her off properly, yet she never arrived at Elysium. Never even saw Hades or Persephone to receive her decree.”

“Can’t say I care about your theories,” said Levinia, flipping a switch under her bar top. Soft amber light illuminated a cabinet below the register, as she produced a key from her pocket. “Take them to Athena or, I don’t know, Aristotle, since you’re so willing to head back down there. I’m sure Hades stashed him or some other philosopher in Elysium.”

“I’ll…consider it.” His tone deflated, yet he went on. “Your mother. Was—how angry was she?”

Levinia turned the lock on the cabinet. “She once promised to eviscerate you herself, if you came back while she was alive.” She simpered at her father’s groan and opened the glass door. Inside, mounted on its side, sat a plain, sealed amphora, a spigot retrofitted at its base. “But she never doubted your divinity.” Unpinning one of her ivy pins, Levinia felt about the patterned crest above the spigot. She turned the pin and fitted it into the crest, at the same time sliding the wine glass into place. “She never abandoned the craft you helped her master.”

“Which I see she also passed on to you.”

Holding the glass at a tilt, Levinia released the spigot. Dark red wine slipped in with hardly a bubble. “I like to think I did well by her.” She gingerly pulled the lever back, removed her hair pin from the crest, and stood, pocketing the pin as she nudged the cabinet shut. Pinky cushioned under the stem, she set the filled glass before her father. “But if she kept any secrets from me, she left them in this brew here.”

Levinia crossed her arms, as her father’s features creased with bafflement. “But why would she keep anything from you?”

Despite his confused tone, however, a strange, sharp clarity glinted in his eyes. Without realizing, her father had already, dimly, divined an answer, but needed a few moments longer to solidify his conclusion. Levinia shrugged anyway. “Experiments. Signatures. Something like that, if I had to guess. All she said was this one’s not complete ‘’til it received the blessings of Lord Dionysus.’” She gestured to the glass. “But you’ve already guessed that, right, wine being your domain? So go on. You’ve kept her waiting long enough.”

“With all of my gratitude,” Daeon replied, and picked up the glass. He tilted the wine toward the light and watched The Oracle’s amber lights flare through the deep red. His guilty remembrance softened into a fond smile as he brought the glass to his lips. He closed his eyes. “She’s created a masterpiece. I can tell already.”

Levinia rolled her eyes.

After another long moment and final deep breath, he tipped the glass back for the smallest sip.

Wonder filled his features then, his eyes practically glowing, while Levinia smirked. An old giddiness stirred in her as Daeon took another sip, longer this time. Then another. And another.

“Take your time,” she chuckled, dimly recognizing her own honest simper. Old memories stirred within her, reminding Levinia of fond memories of mother-daughter winemaking—to remind Father to come home!—until Mother had faded into a lonesome morosity some long, horrible time ago. After that and over the years, Levinia’s own love had withered into a desiccated husk of sadness, leaving her with the professional motions of winemaking, but none of the zeal.

‘Until,’ she thought, ‘now.’

“She’s mulled it well,” Daeon sighed. “There’s a bite, yet it’s kind. Soft.” He held a melancholic smile in his features. “As though she’s speaking to me. But this isn’t like her usual brews—what is that I taste? Persephone’s pomegranates?”

“As if she’d let you have the fruits of the dead. You’re tasting cherries, from what later became the Ottomans.”

“And the grapes?” Desperation strained his voice. “Did she use a blend?”

Levinia snorted. “Of only the grapes you raised. She wouldn’t agree to anything else for the private collection.” As her father put down his glass and cradled his head, Levinia swallowed the rest of her rebuke. She couldn’t berate his sincerity any longer. “I looked after what I could after you left. Still do. I’ll never be as good as you, but I did my best.” She smirked, sardonic. “Even stopped myself from burning them down, especially that ugly one with all the ivy.”

“Because Lyridice taught you to regard that one as though it was me.”

Mother had begged not only for the protection of the wine amphoras, but also, with sharp emphasis, the old grapevines in the private garden terrace. “For your father,” sighed a resigned Mother. “He’ll return to you during your long, long life. I promise.”

And now, millennia later, that promise had finally delivered.

Levinia raised a brow. “How did you figure?”

“I could never reach you through them,” Daeon reluctantly answered, “but I could still hear you. Your prayers. I heard both of you, whenever you called upon me through that grapevine.”

Levinia’s head spun, sour rage prickling again at the back of her throat. By force of habit, she had continued her one-sided conversations with the ivy-choked grapevines, increasingly so after her mother had passed. Even though passing time left her home in ruins, Levinia protected those plants with her life, taking them from the terraced gardens above the Mediterranean and across the world from new home to new home. Currently, they stood still and peaceful, enshrined in Levinia’s private garden.

And she still talked to them when she tended the garden. Through that conversation, Levinia realized, her father had found her. “I knew I should have burned that damn bush,” she hissed, every word pinched with more venom than the last. “So you really did know when Mother passed. You knew as soon as I told you and you still chose to not come home?”

“Forgive me, Levinia.” Distress mounted in Daeon’s voice. “I beg you to forgive me, but I know—I’m not—!” He sighed. “I’m not foolish either. You can’t forgive me. I heard that as well. Loud and clear.”

Levinia, remembering her wailing curses before the grapevine, bit her lip. Had her straight honesty then already done the damage she wanted? She leaned against her countertop, replying in a tight voice, “So what are you really here for? Obviously not to ask after Mother.”

“Lyridice has always been my reason—both of you have always been my reason.” Head cradled in one hand, he swirled his wine with the other. Exhaustion shadowed his features as he mockingly snorted, “Zeus advised me against coming here, ‘til I questioned him on his own children, those he left behind on this earth. He granted me some of his understanding then.” He lifted his head and met Levinia’s eye again. “Lyridice prayed that I look after you, Levinia. I’m sorry it took so long.”

“Your point?”

“I’m here to take you home with me. To Olympus.”

She stared, fighting to keep her expression of ennui while pure rage pounded harder and harder against her temple. Home? Olympus?

With Dionysus?

Her breath ran icy hot through her nose, as dumbfounded Levinia curled her fingers around the edge of the countertop. The wood groaned under her grip. Even Daeon pulled back. “So that’s it?” Her stomach lurched over and over. Her eyes, her cheeks, her ears, even her neck and throat, all burned. “This? After all these years? Do you take me for a damn child?”

“It’s for your safety—!”

“—My safety?! Where was this proposition when the pirates showed up? When they burned down our home looking for ‘divine ichor,’ answer me that!”

“I never heard—when was this?”

“Who cares when it was! They hung me—hung me, Father, do you hear me?!—draining me for my blood! Where were you then?!”

“I was looking for your mother!”

“You mean my dead mother?”

“She wasn’t—Levinia, listen to me—Lyridice’s not in the Underworld. She promised to wait for me at Elysium without drinking from Lethe, but I swear to you, she wasn’t there.”

She could have snatched up the glass on the table and smashed it into her father’s face. She could scream at the insolence, the disrespect, but she swallowed the rage scalding her throat. How had she not already vaporized or combusted? Pressing both hands to her temples, Levinia blew out a long, thin, tremulous breath. Then regarding her father with seething disappointment, she blew another breath and lowered her hands. Fists balled, she rounded the bar and stood before Dionysus.

Miss Levinia lifted one hand and pointed at the door. Her voice, icy and curt, sharpened further as she hissed through gritted teeth. “Get out.”

She snapped against his protest. “Mother was more right about you in her anger,” she pressed, “then she ever was in her love for you. You choose to smear her memory? Deflect your responsibility to her? Then I won’t listen to another second of this asinine talk, you hear me, especially in here! Get out!”

A shocked Daeon rose before her. “I never smeared or deflected—!”

“Yet you insist she’s not where she belongs?”

“Zeus forbade me from asking after Lyridice!”

“She was beneath you anyway, is that it? Leave her in peace!”

“I have been fighting, Levinia, fighting for leave this entire time—!”

“And it’s only now that Zeus is granting you this oh-so-necessary permission to see me? To look for Mother? Spit out that wine and cry me a river! Mother must have drowned herself in Lethe, just to avoid seeing you again!”

“By the Styx, child, relinquish your stubbornness for just one moment!”

“Take your patronizing and shove it, Father, because that stubbornness was all I ever had! For years, for centuries, for so goddamn long, all I ever had was that stubbornness to live! To survive!” Every nerve, every breath, every bone in Levinia’s body rattled. Yet somehow, as she regarded her father’s perturbed expression, she scoffed. Why even bother anymore? Why care so much now? Suddenly exhausted, she turned away. “So leave me to it. What’s another lost child to you or the gods, anyway?”

She tottered back behind the bar, as Daeon, shaking his head, fell back into his seat. “You were never lost to me,” he said. “Never.”

“Thanks for the nice thought,” Levinia muttered, “but you’re lying. Get out of my store.”

He lingered, however, drumming his fingers against the bar top. “Divine ichor,” he reflected. “How could anyone have figured that out about you?”

“Live just twenty years past your dead mother without looking more than a teenager, and people start wondering. And don’t try your persuasion on me. I’m of your blood.”

“But your ichor’s mixed, a far cry from that of the gods.”

Levinia rubbed her temples and squeezed her eyes shut as the dust cleared from her memories. Her mother had died, her father disappeared, and the people of that old vineyard had all passed on, leaving behind rumors of a ghost girl wandering the ruins of that once-hallowed estate. In the following lonely years, she ran pirates and treasure hunters for loops around the ruins and cackled at their bumbling expense, until they lashed her by her ankles and heated their cursed knives. “Details,” she mumbled. “Humans don’t care for them when they’re afraid of death.”

Pulling back from the counter, Levinia embraced herself, flinching as her body recalled the searing lacerations, one by one. Her breath shuddered in the icy hollow of her chest. ‘It’s all in the past,’ she told herself. ‘Just nightmares now.’

Just a nightmare. The distant memory of her mother’s voice sounded so close in Levinia’s head. But now you’re awake. And see? Mother is close to you. Father is always with you. The nightmares can’t reach you now.

“Levinia.”

She jerked back to reality—eyes wide, nose flaring, breath still shallow—to find her father offering his hand. “I thought,” Levinia snarled, albeit weakly, “I told you to leave.” Doubt and nostalgia pummeled her inside as she regarded the open palm before her. When was the last time she’d seen and held this hand?

“You spoke so many times before the vines—in joy, in anger, in sorrow—yet you never spoke of your suffering. Why?”

“Because…” Neither snark or sarcasm broke past the knot of honesty tangling in her throat. To tell, or not tell? After all, the last time she spoke to her father about her fears was the night before he disappeared. That was the last time they held hands.

What was that fear again? What had she told him? Levinia stared still at the offered hand, long fingers, knuckles somehow graceful, skin tanned by the Mediterranean sun. That same hand had given her a spoon of honey to soothe her, when she woke up screaming that night.

It was a nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

Wasn’t it?

A nightmare, of a thick black sea crashing forth from beyond an infinite horizon. Dark water coiled up her ankles and seized her wrists and throat and pitched her into the brine. The shadows flooded her nose and darkened her vision, whispered yet screamed, sang yet cried. She flailed and kicked for the surface, but the choking darkness dragged her lower and lower. Something—someone—grabbed her by the root of her soul, and she stilled, paralyzed. Ever deeper she sank, ever aware of the unending depth; she was returning somewhere, a place neither Mother or Father, a place from which her soul shrieked for escape.

She told Father this nightmare after crying against Mother.

Father left the very next morning.

“If you were listening at all after that,” Levinia finally responded, “I didn’t want to give you a reason to truly abandon me.” She laid her fingertips against her father’s. Like hers, and like she remembered, they were soft, maybe a little dry from tending the grapevines. And as she’d done so often as a child at the dinner table, she tapped her fingers against his, lightly, to escape Mother’s rebuke though she laughed eventually.

“It was never my intention—I didn’t mean to—no.” He curled their fingers together and gently gripped Levinia’s hand. “None of that matters.

“I’m sorry, Levinia.”

The apology hung thick, slowly permeating. Tears beaded in Levinia’s vision.

“I’m sorry, for leaving you so alone, so suddenly. I’m so sorry.”

She laid a hand over her eyes and turned her face askance. Biting her lip, she shook her head and swallowed in choking shudders. Miss Levinia, always stoic, never shed tears, not even for friends or close associates. Not even, she hoped, for her father.

Yet he, in silence, tightly held her hand.

“Levinia,” he then started. “As a child, you so desperately wanted to see your lord grandfather. I denied you that, but, do you remember how you tried to persuade me? The one thing you tried?”

Levinia, afraid of a habitual snap coming out instead of a question, sucked in another breath.

The one thing she tried?

The words came out before her foggy memory cleared. “I stole one of the wine amphoras,” she said. “A heavy thing of some special brew you made with Mother.” Lifting her hand, she narrowed her eyes and cocked her head, her memory’s eye following the movements of that little girl. “I… I drank some of it. And I fell asleep.”

Daeon nodded. “Then you had your nightmare. But, hear me, Levinia. It wasn’t just a nightmare.” He took her hand in both of his. “Your divinity shone when you told us about it. That wine opened your vision—your power. You had a vision with far more clarity than even some of Apollo’s oracles.”

“Talk about a stretch of the imagination.” Levinia sniffled. Still turned aside, she drew back and crossed her arms. “I’ve had no prophetic visions since then.”

“Have you had a wine blessed by your father since then?”

Her father’s smugness instilled Levinia with further disbelief. “You’re not a god associated with prophecy.”

“So let’s call it an epiphany. That you call this winery ‘The Oracle’—fate has good taste.”

Levinia wrinkled her nose. Still, the man had a right to believe whatever he pleased, so long as he provided the information she wanted. She crossed her arms. “Epiphany it is. So what did I see?”

In the ensuing silence, Daeon’s features fell again. He folded his hands together. “You’ll believe me, then?”

“I won’t guarantee it.”

“That’s fair,” he snorted. “Your unquestioning faith is certainly far more than I can ask for.” He took a deep breath. Then, despite the uncertain furrow of his brow, he began. “We took some time to decode your epiphany. We still have some disagreement about the details, but overall, we think you saw the seas of Chaos.”

That shapeless, tumultuous beginning of all? Levinia raised her brow. “What about it?”

“Them,” Daeon corrected. “They’re an entity, as well as a place. Considering what happened to you in that dream, there’s reason to believe They’re rising.”

“You’re insinuating that Chaos—which just is, and once abdicated Their supremacy—has adopted purpose and direction?”

Daeon chuckled. “And there’s the disbelief. But you’ve noticed the shift in this world, haven’t you? Humanity is slowly sliding this realm back into Chaos, as though to meet Them halfway.”

“Humans have always been a chaotic species. It’s their fate.”

“So you believe the Moirai designed the arrival of their siblings? The children of Nyx?”

“You say it like they’ve never been around.”

“Certainly, they’ve always had their governance over humanity—in dreams, in sleep, in death—but have they always been here, among the mortals? They’re becoming more and more deliberate in their duties, and the humans resist those machinations. You know what defiance of destiny invites.”

Defiance of destiny is the rejection of the gods’ order, and thus, a ticket for Chaos to emerge. The ichor hunters of Levinia’s youth demonstrated as much in their desperate resistance against death, and her network had reported even more: retribution stirring within and between countries, mass, fatal siren calls of both needles and firearms, older generations passing ill will rather than wisdom to the young. “So it was all one cohesive pattern,” Levinia muttered. “They’re goading humans to reject order.”

“Thus allowing the primordial gods even greater reign across the mortal realm. Their efforts will cloud humanity with the mists of Erebus, and so ready this world for Nyx’s sovereignty.” Daeon’s voice fell. “Once Nyx veils all in primordial night and refuses return to Tartarus, Chaos will surge forth to reclaim what They bore.”

“Unbelievable,” Levinia snorted, shaking her spinning head. “You inferred all of this from a drunken nightmare I had as a child, and you’re only now coming with a full analysis of it?”

“We had to be sure we correctly understood this particular thread of fate. Our preparations needed to be perfect.”

“And leaving lovers and demigod children behind in the meantime?”

Here, Daeon met Levinia’s eye. Guilt, and at the same time, conviction, reflected in his expression. “That was never my intention. We all had our parts to play in this matter, what with closing the gates of Olympus…”

Levinia blinked, eyes bugging out. “Come again?” she scoffed. “Zeus would have you and his family abandon this realm?”

“I’m sure,” Daeon interjected, “I’m certain, he made the decision with a heavy heart—humans have always fascinated him! Yet I hear the scale of this conflict won’t compare to the war against the Titans, or so Poseidon assures.”

Levinia pressed her fingers against her temples, her scrambled disbelief pounding a headache. Slowly, she parsed her thoughts.

One, her father sat before her at her bar. He wanted to take her home, to his home of Olympus.

Two, the children of Nyx, even Nyx herself, worked to set the humans against themselves. To invite Chaos back. And Levinia had had a dream prophesying this some long, ancient time ago.

And, according to Levinia’s up-til-then absent father, her assuredly dead mother had somehow missed the road signs and ferry to the Underworld. She never took her rightful place among the dead.

“Whew…” She lowered her hands and laid them flat on the polished bar top. Refocus, she told herself. What’s here? What’s now?

Herself, first of all. Her father and his unannounced visit. The wine between them, Mother’s “Prayer”—Ah, Levinia, I am so sorry. I’m nobody more than a winemaker’s daughter and yet I find myself wishing—though Levinia would not tell Dionysus this name.

And then The Oracle. She’d been here so long, along with others too. Others that mattered. “What about the other kids like me? You’ve all abandoned us for so long—now you have a plan?”

“We’re in disagreement there as well.” Daeon met Levinia’s sharp, accusatory glare and hurriedly added, “I will grant you protection, of course, but some would rather maintain Olympus as hallowed ground, and prepare those children for war instead. A crusade, they say, to restore order.”

Did you hear, Levinia? Your father finally has his throne among the Olympians! Apparently, bringing his mother back from Hades was the final test of his divinity. And now she’s ascended as a deity on Olympus too!

I… I wonder, if that honor could ever be extended to me?

Soft orange flares glowed in the crystal of Levinia’s neatly lined glasses. She asked, quietly, “Would you have protected Mother, were she still alive?”

“That’s why I made my way to the Underworld again.” Daeon murmured, as if their whispers could somehow reach the shade in question. “Hades was cross with me, but I had every intention of bringing Lyridice back. Only, she wasn’t in Elysium.”

Semele was beautiful—is beautiful. You see, beauty makes the difference between two mortal women. Look at me. I’ve always been cross. I’ve never been beautiful. I’ve this ugly red mark on my face that I wrapped and hid every day, yet your lord father unveiled me. Looked upon me. Embraced me and called me beautiful. I told him he’ll someday wake up from those delusions.

But now, without him? I miss him, Levinia. I miss him more every day.

I tell myself he’ll come home. Do you think the gods will forgive my vanity?

“She would have waited. You’re right about that, at least.” She waved aside Daeon’s touched, tearful look. “At least I’m still here. You’d have me head for Olympus as a refugee, then?”

Noting her father’s affirming nod, Levinia regarded the quiet winery. For sanctuary within Olympus, she’d have to give this place up. Whether this “rising” of Chaos happened tonight or within the next five hundred years, Olympus would supposedly protect her. Her father was luckily one of the kinder Olympians who reveled in celebration more than sacrifice.

But the more pragmatic gods meant to outfit their demigod children for war. With war came carnage, meaning those abandoned kids would inevitably be the first casualties. The thought soured in the back of Levinia’s throat. “Can’t you extend your protection to the rest of our kind?”

Daeon folded his shaking hands together. “It’s my word against those of older siblings and my father. Some have no kindness or wisdom, but I will continue asking them to reconsider. Demigods or not, our children shouldn’t have to suffer their parents’ whims.”

Levinia snorted. “You could say that twice and a few times more.”

“Please, Levinia.”

“I don’t think so, Father. I’m not as bitter now, but I still have a right to my anger. Rage is also part of your domain, after all.”

She smirked at her father’s exasperation, yet Levinia’s thoughts wandered again. Less fortunate kids had no divine or living parent to speak of or with. Those lost children floated about and survived, until rumor clued them into a haven nestled in the heart of some far-flung wine country. Half-disbelieving, they stumbled on, following the word of equally mistrustful kids until they fell upon the doorstep of The Oracle. Levinia gave them food, drink, a bed, a bath, no questions, and only one rule: no trouble. After a few silent days, they usually asked about their almighty parents, because surely Miss Levinia and her network would have answers, but she always gave her sobering response of, “No one knows.”

Now she knew—Chaos is coming and the gates of Olympus are closing—but then what? Absent parents never had sudden changes of heart. Even Dionysus needed a reason. So how would an answer change any of the demigods’ circumstances? If Levinia left The Oracle, where would those kids go next?

‘They’re resourceful,’ she told herself. ‘They know how to get by.’ Yet a sense of proud duty answered, that without Miss Levinia, who knew the ways of the divine children because she was one too, the kids had nowhere else to go. After all, she maintained the store’s front not only for her devotion to winemaking.

She tapped the bar top. “You’ll be returning to Olympus,” Levinia finally answered, “without me.”

“Without—wait—without?”

Levinia smiled despite the pang against her chest. “Ah, Father. Think of it like this: if I could get you to choose me over your other children, would you stay with me here among the mortals?” She noted Daeon’s alarmed, ponderous expression and waved her remark aside. “You see? Much as I would hate and appreciate my lord father’s company, either I would have to abandon this place, or you would have to stay with me in this possible war-zone.” Levinia took a dry cloth from a cabinet, wet and wrung it, and began wiping down her bar top. “I don’t think we can compromise either of our positions.”

Understanding visibly dawned in Daeon’s expression. He said nothing for a long while, only picking up his empty glass to let Levinia wipe. Then, “Tell me, Levinia,” he started, “about this place. You never spoke much about it through the grapevine.”

“Professional necessity,” Levinia replied. “I said nothing about this operation in case someone up there didn’t like the idea of a bunch of demigod children gathering in one place.”

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Since I realized humans believe immortality’s worth bleeding a kid dry.” She snickered at Daeon’s flinch. “I’ve had a lot of help, since I’m moving shop all around. This place is only a couple centuries old.”

“Why reveal this place to mortals as a winery?”

Levinia shrugged. “Tending to and establishing this network takes money, you know. I make good wine, and some of the kids want jobs. So I help them by keeping this place in operation throughout the day.

“Kids are smart, see. They rotate their own roster and keep me a secret. The humans believe the original owner’s long dead.”

Daeon, tracing the rim of his glass, finally smiled. “A compelling ruse. You truly do make a fantastic protection goddess.”

“Don’t joke like that,” said Levinia. “It’s just volunteer work. I only started this because I needed a place like this as a child. Figured there were others too.” She eyed her father’s glass, its bottom caked with the last drying drops of Lyridice’s “Prayer.” Then squaring her shoulders and straightening her waistcoat, Levinia folded her hands behind her back. “Well then. You have your answer, and assuming you’re telling the truth, I shouldn’t keep you. Thank you, Father, for finding me.”

To which Daeon regarded with a somber shake of his head, before he broke into a chuckle. “I see you’ve inherited that terrible habit of hers,” he said.

“Habit?”

“That dismissive tone. Lyridice was always cross, even as a young woman. I believed I could persuade her to soften her edges, but I never succeeded.” He snickered, low and fond. “I couldn’t. She was bright. Hardworking. Sensible and fearless. She eventually revealed her vulnerability to me, but I always found her snap quite charming.”

“And I’m her daughter,” Levinia snorted. “Notice, that while you confused me and pissed me off, you never persuaded me.”

“I stopped you from throwing me out.”

“Save your breath. That wasn’t your persuasion.”

“So you say, but I believe I can yet convince you to come with me.”

Levinia narrowed her eyes. “If you’re telling the truth, your father’s gates will close before you convince me to do anything, much less rely on your protection.”

“Is that a challenge? I do intend on returning to enjoy Lyridice’s masterpiece a few times more.”

“Then take the entire jug. I’m sure she’d like that.”

“Do you think it’ll lead us to her?” Eager hope made him breathless, as he leaned forward on the bar top. “She asked you to preserve this wine for a reason, something more than simply my blessing.”

Levinia raised a brow. “You’re overthinking it. She left no records or recipes, and told me nothing. So I doubt you’ll glean anything from this brew, let alone where she could be other than avoiding you in Elysium.”

“She was never a woman to back out of her promises.” Hands folded, Daeon stared, pensive, at the glass before him. “Zeus will leave the gates open to the very last minute. I’ll find Lyridice by then.”

Levinia, still wordlessly impressed by her father’s faith, shook her head.

Then a wind stirred outside, heralding the arrival of another visitor. Two, in fact, by the sounds of familiar motorcycle purrs and deep, soul-curdling barking. Levinia eyed the glass panes of her doors and watched as the twins’ silhouettes approached The Oracle. Sensing drawn blades should they recognize an Olympian at their favorite haunt, Levinia cleared her throat. “Consider yourself taken with a grain of salt,” she said, “but I’ll see what I can find on my end.”

The statement had her father beaming. “A grain is better than none,” he said. “Know that I’m proud of you, Levinia.”

She averted her eyes from Daeon’s smile as the flare of her own ears choked her smartest responses and left her grumbling, “Now I do.” While she snorted against the embarrassed tangle in her chest, her gaze darted across the tasting room. Setting her eyes back on her father then, she knew, spelled trouble for the still-restrained tears prickling across her face. “And, uh, if you could kindly see yourself out soon? You’ll—you’ll send the brats running for the hills.”

Daeon turned toward the doors, where the twins peered through the glass. “Well, that wouldn’t do,” he said, softening his voice. The doors swung open, revealing the twins already in their ready stances, hands clenched over the handles of their weapons. “I’ve truly overstayed my welcome, then?”

The brother’s black steel sword and the sister’s ebonywood flute shone orange under The Oracle’s amber lights. Lips pursed, Levinia eyed her returning customers and shook her head. “Truly,” she replied, flinching at her own cold civility. “Go on. Get out.”

Yet Daeon kept his steady grin. He rose from his seat and buried his hands in his pockets. “I hope you’ll allow me to come back, then.”

Heart leaping up her chest, and with little trace of her old bitterness, Miss Levinia returned Lord Dionysus’s radiant grin, albeit with a huff. “’Tis a promise,” she said, “and I’m personally holding you to that this time. Don’t come ‘til the store’s empty, you hear?”

“Loud and clear, my dear. Loud and clear.”

He lifted his hand in farewell, and bowing his head, passed the tensed twins on his way to the door. The door closed behind him, and like fading smoke, Father disappeared into the night. Levinia released her held breath in a deep exhale.

The twins, sheathing their weapons, slid into their stools. They leaned over the bar top, brows furrowed, eyes narrowed and shoulders tensed. Who was that man in that hideous purple hood? Did he seriously have leopard print down the sleeves and sides? That hoodie alone’s enough for an assassination request, Miss Levinia, and—friendly reminder—the twins had cleared their schedule for the evening. She knew, right, that if she ever were in trouble, she could ask them, and they’d do whatever necessary to return their favors. And their tab.

Levinia nodded, blankly rinsing her father’s glass. A part of her cursed the twins for their prickly mistrust. Another part applauded herself for avoiding an altercation between god and demigod. As she drew her sleeve across her wet eyes, she dimly registered another part of herself fading—the rage that once flared in the back of her throat, up into her head, and all through her body for centuries untold. And as she dried her father’s glass and set it next to the amphora in her sealed cabinet, a newly assured part steeled her new gamble: Mother’s prayer would again bring Father back home.

Now her business began. “You two—you’re alright,” Miss Levinia remarked, beckoning her customers to calm down. She wore her customary smile again, improved, she realized, from the new stretch of her lips and the crease of her eyes and cheeks. “I just got hold of new information for you and the other brats. New job too, personal this time.”

She set two glasses before the twins and retrieved a new bottle from the wall behind her. “I need you to find a missing shade in the Underworld. And relax; this round’s on me.

“We’re celebrating tonight.”

[shiftingpath]

ethicalnecromancer replied to your photo: ethicalnecromancer: Exalted Antagonist Concept -...

@shiftingpath Maya Shalmarat was an extoller oracle (a folk shamaness somewhere between japanese geisha and korean mudang) in a northern threshold kingdom who’s youthful idealism got her thrown in a gaol for political prisoners. Broken and dying, she cried out in anguish and the Neverborn whispered back. A night later Maya died, hungry ghosts flooded the prison and only the Saint of Promised Silence walked out.

[xadoheandterra]

Series: The Burning of Solheim Title: The Path Untrodden Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI | VII | VIII | IX | X | XI | XII | XIII Characters: Prompto Argentum, Ignis Scientia, Cor Leonis, Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Gilgamesh Tags: 10 years older!Prompto, Noctis is a devious little shit, Noctis will do anything for Prompto, Prompto’s gay little heart, Cor is done with this bullshit, Everyone needs to stop and think, Gilgamesh is tired and just wants to be left alone, Gilgamesh is a necromancer, Gilgamesh is basically like a drow okay?! Summary:  Solheim was the height of civilization long enough that their ruins were ruins over 2000 years ago, and still had the power to function in the time of the King of Light. They should’ve realized something was very wrong the minute Prompto remarked on the lights being on, and yet no one was home.

Prompto woke Noctis at dawn, much to his King’s consternation—but then it’d been Noctis’ demand to be roused with the sun and Prompto found himself only following through. Sure he could easily have ignored the words. It wasn’t like Noctis gave him a royal decree—he hadn’t even used the voice that caused Iggy to stiffen his spine in reaction, or really did things to people in general because it was Noctis and the voice.

Ardyn’s version of the voice was pure rapturous torture and Prompto really didn’t want to think about that because it reminded him how terribly gay he was for his two best friends and they weren’t even available. Noctis had a pretty blonde bride-to-be in Atissia, a Princess in her own right, that he’d met all of a week and never again after. Ardyn had his beautiful Astral-blessed Oracle back in Civitas Lucii that awaited him with a smile and a kiss and the auburn haired man was utterly besotted and no, Prompto refused to get between that.

End all be all Noctis hadn’t used the voice and so Prompto found himself in the unique position of not required to wake Noctis at dawn, yet at the same time required to wake Noctis at dawn. He took to the position with gleeful aplomb, found a pool of water in the canyon, and proceeded to dump it on Noctis’ face. The spluttered look of betrayal, sleep-sodden that it was, was beautifully perfect and Prompto found himself with a wide grin and a giddy bubbling feeling in his chest that only Noctis could make him feel.

“Mornin’!” Prompto cheered, and Noctis groaned and flopped himself over with a heavy sigh and a faint whine.

“It’s too early,” Noctis complained, the words dragged out of him with a torturous groan.

“You said Dawn, Your Majesty,” Prompto teased, and Noctis grabbed his pillow and threw it in Prompto’s direction in response. Prompto laughed and pranced out of the tent, assured that Noctis would follow in short order.

Surely enough, five minutes later Noctis emerged from the tent, dressed, and with a stifled yawn from behind one hand. Prompto moved to quickly disassemble their tent and camping supplies. He nudged Noctis over toward the small can of cold beans to which the King of Lucis pulled a disgusted face at. He looked to Prompto who arched an eyebrow and waited. Noctis’ hate of vegetables of all kinds was well known, and that included beans into the mix. After a moment stare down Noctis took the spoon out of the can and with a scowl stuffed the beans into his mouth. He pulled a face, but Prompto expected that.

The camping supplies were neatly stacked back away into Noctis’ armiger by the time Noctis finished his can of beans. He washed down the taste with a bottle of water from the armiger and a betrayed look at Prompto. Prompto shrugged his shoulders.

“Best I could do,” Prompto said.

“Beans,” Noctis ground out, and left it at that because Prompto knew and Noctis knew that Prompto knew and that was all that mattered. He ate them, so Prompto counted it as a win.

One to one, Noct, the blond thought viciously, and let his grin show when Noctis huffed, annoyed.

After a moment where they stood in their little cavern with the dying light of the magic that Noctis infused, Noctis scrubbed his hand through his still soaked hair with a sigh. They both eyed the exit of the cave contemplatively before Noctis mumbled, “Which direction should we go?”

“Continue the way we were?” Prompto suggested, just the barest hint of concern in his voice that it might be wrong. How would he know where to go? The Blademaster could be anywhere and Taelpar Crag covered from Lestallum to Cape Caem like a giant gash straight through the continent that Lucis existed upon.

“How do you expect to find your friend?” Noctis questioned as they started out. “Do you have some way to—sense him or something?”

Prompto huffed. “I planned to have Cor and Gladio show us the way, then yell really loud once we got there. Maybe call him out for being a coward or something—because seriously who the fuck abandons their godsdamn friend like that?”

Noctis eyed Prompto, and Prompto felt relieved that he didn’t bring up the fact that Cor and Gladio very obviously were not going to bring them to the Tempering Grounds. Prompto was thankful Noctis decided to fuck that decision and drag him down, he just wished it were in another way. Still, Noctis looked off to the side and asked, tone light, “How do you know he abandoned your friend?”

Prompto kicked at a rock. “He’s still here, isn’t he?”

Noctis frowned, and then pointed out logically, “That doesn’t mean he abandoned your friend.” Prompto looked at him with a frown. “You traveled through time, Prom. Ardyn could’ve done the same and—”

Prompto shook his head and muttered a short, “I think I would’ve known if Gil was immortal, Noct. He might’ve been a necromancer but he wasn’t, like, some sort of lich or something.” Noctis fell silent at the phrasing because what. Prompto continued, “There’s no way he could still be around if Ardyn—no,” and Noctis decided to just ignore the former half of Prompto’s rambling as Prompto-brand logic wherein games could be applied to reality in some strange, half-mad way.

The only other thing that left as for why Gilgamesh remained in the world and why Ardyn walked the earth was Divine Punishment, but neither wanted to think about that. Prompto, because that meant something happened when Gilgamesh abandoned Ardyn, and Gilgamesh would never abandon Ardyn as far as Prompto knew. Unless Ardyn commanded it—but Ardyn wouldn’t. He couldn’t—except, Prompto knew, Ardyn would, could, and potentially did and he hated that even moreso.

For Noctis the implication was just as bad in another way, and the young King hated it. He hated how his father kept secrets from him, how people still keep things from him. He hated that Regis died in Insomnia and sent him away—and he hated that somewhere, someone in his line had wronged a member of their family. A member that was stuck living an immortal life for who knows what reason because Noctis surely didn’t! Someone, somewhere, would’ve written it down but it was as if Lucis as a collective whole just forgot and that was wrong. For a moment Noctis stopped walking and clenched his hands into a fist.

No wonder Ardyn lived as the Chancellor of Niflheim. Noctis might’ve done the same in his shoes.

“Uh, Noct?” Prompto spoke up when he registered the look on Noctis’ face—the one where Noctis seemed to be intently contemplating murder—"You okay?”

Noctis shook himself and said, “It’s nothing.” They walked on in silence for another five feet before Noctis said, “Why don’t you?”

Prompto tilted his head. “Why don’t I what?”

Noctis looked at Prompto, brow furrowed and gaze half-distant. “Why don’t you call him out? Yell his name and call him a coward?”

Prompto paused. He wanted to say because he felt fairly certain Gilgamesh couldn’t—wouldn’t—hear him, but he had no reason to really think so. They were in a canyon and sound carried after all and—a small grin crossed Prompto’s face. Noctis blinked.

“Permission to scream at one of my good friends?” Prompto asked, lips quirked up just a titch toward the side of cheeky.

Noctis huffed out a faint laugh, then waved his hand and said faux grandly, “Permission granted.”

Prompto opened his mouth and screamed. Noctis regretted his approval almost instantly as his hands slapped over his ears and he gave Prompto a betrayed look, even as the blond continued to yell as loudly as he could.

“GIL YOU MOTHERFUCKING COWARDLY PIECE OF SHIT GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE SO I CAN KICK IT!”

Gilgamesh felt a stiff breeze within the cavern system and raised his head from the stew he diligently tended toward. With a murmured softness, his own voice amidst the thousands of dead that flocked to him like parasites, Gilgamesh murmured, “An ill omen.” Calmly Gilgamesh pulled the ladle from the stew and with a clenched fist he smothered the flames. A secondary wave of his hand had the stew frozen over in chill hoarfrost of the dead.

The Home of Gilgamesh nestled deep into the cavern system, well passed the bridge he tested those foolish enough to throw their life away at his hands. It made itself of rotted logs and scavenged clothes from the dead and their weaponry, but it worked for Gilgamesh’s purposes, and it worked well. It kept out the worst of the chill, at the very least, and that was all he could ask for in his self-imposed exile.

As Gilgamesh stepped past the threshold of his home his armor began to form around the simple cloth he used as clothing when not in the middle of combat. It came to him on spectral wind and with the faintest charm of shattering glass. Before him knelt ten ghosts of dead long past as he moved, and Gilgamesh paid them no heed. The dead were useless without true form, and these were unthinking pests at best. No, Gilgamesh sought out one with more thought in its head—more recent, more tangible in its shape and belief. He sought out one of the remnants that hadn’t yet fully bound themselves into his service—and he found one, tall, that awaited him near the bridge.

“What news is born on the ill wind?” Gilgamesh questioned. “Another Challenger to Witness, another Soul to claim at the Gates?”

The Spirit shook its head and ducked it low. Gilgamesh ignored the way it trembled—it had years left before it subsumed with the rest, so it remembered its own death and its own failings and that was on the Spirit and not on Gilgamesh. It said, “No, milord.”

“Then what has drawn me to this place, if no Challenger comes—no Soul awaits?” Gilgamesh pulled his mask into hand—wisps of the dead swirled into his palm until it formed heavy to hold.

“A scream on the wind,” the Spirit spoke. “It calls for you.”

“There is no scream to beholden me,” Gilgamesh said, tone short and the Spirit ducked low.

“It calls for you,” the Spirit spoke. “It bids you Coward and names you Gil, the Motherfucker.”

Gilgamesh froze, stiff and as unmoving as the Glacian, and then he murmured, “Oh, he didn’t,” with the falling tones of one long sort of suffering. Gilgamesh took a step and vanished into the sudden mists. He took two more into the fog of the dead, and when he stepped a third time it was to leave the mists and to stand at the front of the Tempering Grounds. Gilgamesh stared, and listened, and waited.

“I SWEAR TO FUCK IF I DON’T SEE YOU IN THE NEXT FIVE MINUTES I AM GOING TO DROP A FIRAJA ON YOUR ASS SO HARD.”

Gilgamesh settled with a faint shudder at the thought of flames and heat, then slid his mask home. He knew that voice, knew the barely controlled grief within it and the rage that buried itself beneath the waves of childishness and scholastic glee. It was a voice he long, long believed to be lost to the ravages of time and even to his own memory. Had not the Scourge devoured the bright one whole? Or had yet another lie been told to him, in a long list of lies and mockeries of his devotion?

A second and Gilgamesh decided it mattered not. Even if the boy had lived, even if the Scourge had not devoured his brightness, he surely could not exist two thousand years hence that day. The Accursed had his facsimile of life as a Gift from the Draconian—a Curse, in truth—and Gilgamesh’s own choices wrought him here in this world, two thousand years on and well past when he should’ve crossed through the Gates to the Beyond. He breathed in the air, crisp and lacking in the staleness of the cave, and with determination to see this phantom memory to its completion Gilgamesh stepped out into the bright of the sun for the first time in two thousand years.

Once the job was done, this distraction completed, Gilgamesh would return to his cavern home to await his inevitable end with the end of the Night Eternal.

The scene that Cor expected to come upon was not the scene he found himself at. Firstly, they weren’t near the Tempering Grounds in the least, which for a brief moment Cor found himself thankful for. He would never have survived if Regis even suspected he let his boy get into that hell-pit. The man would’ve come back as one of the Lucii and impaled Cor in the worst way imaginable, he had no doubt.

Secondly, the Blademaster was out of his cave. The minute Cor gazed upon the familiar armor, stood across Noctis and Prompto with blade in his singular hand, Cor felt his chest constrict. A half-a-second he thought he might’ve had a heart attack, before he realized he just wasn’t breathing. Cor forced himself to take in a breath and consider the situation before him—yet he didn’t even have that half-second to do so because once Gladio and Ignis registered the situation it went from tense and unusual to completely fucked.

“Noctis!” Ignis screamed, alongside Gladiolus who charged right back at the Blademaster with a yell of, “Get away from them you undead bastard!” and Cor—Cor could do nothing to stop them as they raced into a fight that hadn’t even begun. In the time he’d taken a step—a time where the Blademaster yanked up his sword, followed by six others, all spectral and refracted in the light of the sun, to block Gladiolus’ downswing of the Genji Blade. In that instant Ignis ducked up and under the Blademaster’s guard with his Spelldaggers and slicked into the armor—through it—and into the belly of the swordsman who grunted, surprised.

Cor felt faint. Ignis ducked backward, twisted into a roll, and dodged one blade that flew after him with a faint shimmer of a hand near invisible wrapped around its hilt. Gladiolus shoved the five remaining blades away with the Genji Blade and switched swords to a much heavier broadsword that he slammed down into the ground with a thunderous crash that shook the very earth. As Ignis sweeped back around with his hands wrapped in spellfire Cor’s view of the mess became inexplicably ruined by the telltale ripping of the world through a warp and Noctis’ rather bright smile in his face.

“Hey, Cor,” the young King uttered, completely unfazed by the mess that raged behind him. Cor thought he saw Prompto pull out some giant Nif-made thing but Noctis just moved to block his view and—Cor sighed and found himself reminded of Regis and how Regis would often play distraction to Weskham as he, Clarus, and Cid got themselves into trouble.

“Noctis,” Cor rumbled, tone just on this side of disappointed.

“It’s cool. They got this,” Noctis said instead of anything, and for a moment Cor frowned. Certainly, Gladiolus had bested the Blademaster—the beast gave him the Genji Blade back—but Ignis was foremost an elementalist and not a warrior like Gladiolus and Prompto—Prompto was an unknown, now, Cor admitted silently. “Seriously, Cor, Prom’s got this.”

“Your Majesty,” Cor started when the ground rocked with sudden force and all of Cor’s clothes tugged forward. He could feel his feet dragging in the dust and dirt, even Noctis’ drifted backward as the young King grinned at him with a joy that Cor hadn’t seen in his eyes in a long, long while. Everything had been muted with the young King for so long that Cor thought perhaps the strongest emotion he’d felt had been that anger back in the Tomb, but the pure joy and mischief eclipsed the sudden outburst from before and Cor found himself—still.

Noctis shifted to the side to show Cor what happened, and Cor stared almost breathless at the sight of Prompto between two giant black holes worth of magical energy. One tugged Gladiolus and Ignis backward off of their feet and the other kept the Blademaster in place as the blond glared at him, giant behemoth of a Nif-make weapon in hand.

“See?” Noctis said from beside Cor, who wondered why he even thought these kids weren’t capable of shit. Apparently, they were more than capable of shit and—fuck why did he even leave them alone? Obviously, Cor realized, he’d not been thinking after he left them in Leide. The amount of craziness they got up to was worse then Regis and himself combined and that frightened Cor just the slightest bit.

“Your Highness?” Cor said, voice just barely strangled in surprise.

“I told you,” Noctis said with bright eyes and a wide grin. “Prom’s got this.”

[flowr-babe]

Saudade

summary: You love Tom but he seems to only think of you as a personal therapist.

warnings: angst, alcohol briefly mentioned

words: 1845

a/n: The title is a Portuguese word that roughly translates to “missingness” or “longing”, but means much more. Also, this is set pre-haircut because the floppy curls will always be my favorite.

part two

If only you had been able to fall asleep last night. You wouldn’t have heard him knock, and your heart would still be in your chest where it belonged.

Instead, you had been awake late into the night and into the early morning. The television was on and late-night cartoons were creating background noise to your thoughts. You were laying on the couch and your eyes were picking out shapes in the texture on your living room ceiling. You were awake for no reason, but you’d experienced this sleeplessness countless times before.

Since childhood, every once in a while you were struck with bouts of insomnia, unable to close your eyes for hours. At most, they would last for a week. But they destroyed your circadian rhythm and each time it took you weeks to recover. You knew that you would be battling sleep during work the next day, but there you were, playing the most boring hidden object game ever.

The doorbell rang at 12:32 am. You froze, knowing you weren’t expecting anyone that early in the morning. For the next minute, you listened for movement or a voice that would give away the identity of the visitor. Suddenly the sound of knuckles rapping on the door echoed throughout the apartment. Seven knocks to the tune of Shave and a Haircut.

You let your shoulders relax in relief. But that relief left your body as soon as it arrived. It was quickly replaced with an all too familiar emotion you had yet to think of a name for. For the time being, you pretended to ignore the ebbing feeling and lifted yourself from the couch.

You didn’t check the peephole before you opened the door because you knew exactly who would be there. He was standing with his arms wrapped around himself. His hair was wild, tossed in odd directions and a few strands sticking upward. You took in his demeanor, noting how well he looked in his attire; the type of clothes you knew he would only wear if he were going out. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes was strong on him. Yet you knew he wasn’t drunk, for he’d turned up on your doorstep drunk many times before, and the alertness in his eyes told you he was sober.

It took him a few moments to get up the guts to look you in the eyes. Once he did, though, he couldn’t look away. Just the sight of your face was a comfort to him. He offered you a tired smile.

“Hey, love.”

You smiled back with exhaustion evident in your eyes, “Hey, Tommy.”

You weren’t sleepy, your brain was still wide awake. But you were already tired of what you knew would be another fatiguing session of helping Tom bear the weight of his world. You were his favorite therapist. Every time he came to you, you could be sure that he was just inches away from an invisible ledge. Someone had broken his heart, or his fame was too much to handle, or he needed someone to talk to because his friends were busy. His eyes were rimmed with red and it was hard to miss the trembling in his hand as he dragged it through his hair. He was one tug away from falling apart at the seams. Just like all the times before, he was expecting you to sew him back together. And just like all the times before, you sighed before inviting him inside and closing the door behind him.

Almost robotically, you guided him to your couch and sat next to him. The small talk that followed was painfully boring but it felt necessary. You had to test the waters before you dove in. You had talked Tom down from ledges so often that it had become simple strategy to you. You knew what made him tick, knew how to make him smile even through tears.

Some nights it took hours to make him feel sane again. You would let him vent to you and you would do your best to soothe his doubts. Some nights he would present you with his problem and you would suggest the simplest solution you could think of and he would look at you as if you were an oracle.

This time, it was hard to read his mood. For the past few minutes, you had listened to him talk about everything but himself. You noticed that he looked better already, just sitting and talking to you, but you wouldn't mention it. You hadn't seen him in months and maybe he wouldn't admit it, but it was evident that he'd missed you. For the time being, you decided you would just let him talk. 

By 3:37 am you were both laying on the carpet in between your coffee table your television. You were talking about everything and nothing, your voices rising to lightly brush the ceiling. You were laying close enough to see the television screen reflected in his eyes.

Nostalgia rushed over you and you let your mind wander to another place. You liked to remember what Tom was like when you first met him. The two of you would talk for hours, sometimes for no reason other than just to hear each other’s voices. He would make excuses to come and see you and you would pretend he didn’t make your heart pound when he smiled at you. He wouldn’t call you anything more than a friend, and it had started to wear you down. Only you knew that he had your heart on a string; all he had to do was hold tight and you would follow. You never told him how much he meant, that in your mind, friends didn’t even begin to describe how important he was to you.

You couldn’t remember exactly when the first ignored call was. The first time he stood you up was harder to forget, and the week of silence that followed was like a landmark. You knew his career was kicking off and eventually he called to fill you in on the hectic filming and meetings and interviews. You'd been happy for him, but the happiness was overshadowed by how much you missed hearing his voice. Even after the chaos died down, he never made the time to come and see you.

It wasn't until he realized you knew him better than anyone that he came back to you, but it was never actually him. His body would walk itself to your door and you would do your best to conjure up his soul, and then he would leave again. For the first time in over a year, Tom was right next to you and things felt almost normal. If you weren't worried that it would scare him away, you would cry.

Before you could stop yourself, you reached over and moved a stray lock of hair from his face. His voice faltered and for a moment his eyes flashed to your lips. He quickly recovered and continued the conversation, however, his words had become null to you and subconsciously you scooted closer to him. It’d be hard to say he didn’t notice, as your noses were almost touching now. The hum of his voice stopped altogether and you could hear your heart pounding in anticipation.

You were the one to bring your lips to his and he placed his hand on your waist in response, lightly grasping at your shirt. Though it was impossible, you wished you could be even closer to him. You placed your hand on the back of his neck and dragged it upward until you lost your fingers in his hair.

After what felt like forever in your mind which had turned to molasses, you released each other to catch a breath. Directly, you pressed your face to his chest. You didn't want to look in his eyes. His eyes would make you come back down to earth and for the time being, you were content with drifting through space. For a brief moment, your heart was back in your chest and you wanted to make it last.

At 4:57 am Tom had fallen asleep next to you on the carpet. Of course, you were still awake and had taken to watching him instead of the ceiling. If you focused on the moment at hand, it was easy to pretend that things were still the way they were; that things had never changed.

Sooner or later, he began to stir and you quickly closed your eyes, feigning sleep.You listened to the sound of Tom’s clothes rustling as he pushed himself up off of the floor. That unplaceable emotion returned in full force as reality began to come back into focus. It was heavy on your chest and you tried to bring more air into your lungs to relieve the crushing feeling. There was silence for a few seconds and you imagined him standing over you, gazing at you with lovelorn eyes, thinking to himself that he should stay this time. The soft sound of footsteps on your carpet denied your hopeful fantasy. Each footstep sounded farther than the next and the pain in your chest grew with each one.

You didn’t open your eyes until you heard the sound of your doorknob turning. You watched him take one last look in your direction before crossing the threshold. The pain in your chest peaked. Then, the door closed behind him and your apartment was bathed in darkness. Your heart was gone again.

For almost an hour, you laid in the same spot on the carpet. You were avidly listening to the episode of Bob’s Burgers playing behind you. It was a rerun you’d seen dozens of times but it was the one thing keeping you from replaying the last few hours in your head. Your phone alarm rang and you remembered you had to work today. The floor had made your muscles sore and you focused on the pain in your joints as you stretched.

You walked through your apartment in a daze. In thirty minutes you were ready for work but afterward, you couldn't recall turning on your shower or putting on your clothes or anything. Still fuzzy, you reentered your living room and turned off the television. You followed the path Tom had taken to the front door and placed your hand on the knob.

It used to bring tears to your eyes when you woke up the next morning to find he had left in the night. Now, it left you feeling empty, but at least you didn’t cry. As terrible as you felt thinking it, you knew he would be back the next time he felt broken. And you would be waiting with open arms, ready to reassemble him, placing small kisses on each piece before you put it back in place.

[9r7g5h]

There were once a king and queen, rulers of an unnamed city, who had three daughters of conspicuous beauty. The youngest and most beautiful was Psyche, whose admirers, neglecting the proper worship of the love goddess Aphrodite, instead prayed and made offerings to her. It was rumored that she was the second coming of Aphrodite, or the daughter of Aphrodite from an unseemly union between the goddess and a mortal. Aphrodite was offended, and commissioned Cupid to work her revenge. Cupid instead scratches himself with his own dart, which makes any living thing fall in love with the first thing it sees. As soon as Cupid scratches himself he falls deeply in love with Psyche and disobeys his mother's order to make Psyche fall in love with something hideous.

Although her two humanly beautiful sisters have married, the idolized Psyche has yet to find love. Her father suspects that they have incurred the wrath of the gods, and consults the oracle of Apollo. The response is unsettling: the king is to expect no human son-in-law, but rather a dragon-like creature who harasses the world with fire and iron and is feared by even Zeus and the inhabitants of the underworld.

Psyche is arrayed in funeral attire, conveyed by a procession to the peak of a rocky crag, and exposed. Marriage and death are merged into a single rite of passage, a "transition to the unknown." Zephyr the West Wind bears her up to meet her fated match, and deposits her in a lovely meadow where, she promptly falls asleep.

The transported girl awakes to find herself at the edge of a cultivated grove. Exploring, she finds a marvelous house with golden columns, a carved ceiling of citrus wood and ivory, silver walls embossed with wild and domesticated animals, and jeweled mosaic floors. A disembodied voice tells her to make herself comfortable, and she is entertained at a feast that serves itself and by singing to an invisible lyre.

Although fearful, she allows herself to be guided to a bedroom, where in the darkness a being she cannot see makes her his wife. She gradually learns to look forward to his visits, though he always departs before sunrise and forbids her to look upon him, and soon she becomes pregnant.

Psyche's family longs for news of her, and after much cajoling, Cupid, still unknown to his bride, permits Zephyr to carry her sisters up for a visit. When they see the splendor in which Psyche lives, they become envious, and undermine her happiness by prodding her to uncover her husband's true identity, since surely as foretold by the oracle she was lying with the vile winged serpent, who would devour her and her child.

One night after Cupid falls asleep, Psyche carries out the plan her sisters devised: she brings out a dagger and a lamp she had hidden in the room, in order to see and kill the monster. But when the light instead reveals the most beautiful creature she has ever seen, she is so startled that she wounds herself on one of the arrows in Cupid's cast-aside quiver. Struck with a feverish passion, she spills hot oil from the lamp and wakes him. He flees, and though she tries to pursue, he flies away and leaves her on the bank of a river.

There she is discovered by the wilderness god Pan, who recognizes the signs of passion upon her. She acknowledges his divinity, then begins to wander the earth looking for her lost love.

Psyche visits first one sister, then the other; both are seized with renewed envy upon learning the identity of Psyche's secret husband. Each sister attempts to offer herself as a replacement by climbing the rocky crag and casting herself upon Zephyr for conveyance, but instead is allowed to fall to a brutal death.

In the course of her wanderings, Psyche comes upon a temple of Demeter, and inside finds a disorder of grain offerings, garlands, and agricultural implements. Recognizing that the proper cultivation of the gods should not be neglected, she puts everything in good order, prompting a theophany of Demeter herself. Although Psyche prays for her aid, and Demeter acknowledges that she deserves it, the goddess is prohibited from helping her against a fellow goddess. A similar incident occurs at a temple of Hera. Psyche realizes that she must serve Aphrodite herself.

Aphrodite revels in having the girl under her power, and turns Psyche over to her two handmaids, Worry and Sadness, to be whipped and tortured. Aphrodite tears her clothes and bashes her head into the ground, and mocks her for conceiving a child in a sham marriage. The goddess then throws before her a great mass of mixed wheat, barley, poppyseed, chickpeas, lentils, and beans, demanding that she sort them into separate heaps by dawn. But when Aphrodite withdraws to attend a wedding feast, a kind ant takes pity on Psyche, and assembles a fleet of insects to accomplish the task. Aphrodite is furious when she returns drunk from the feast, and only tosses Psyche a crust of bread. She checks on Cupid, who had been staying with his mother while his wound healed, and then goes to bed.

At dawn, Aphrodite sets a second task for Psyche. She is to cross a river and fetch golden wool from violent sheep who graze on the other side. These sheep are elsewhere identified as belonging to Apollo. Psyche's only intention is to drown herself on the way, but instead she is saved by instructions from a divinely inspired reed, of the type used to make musical instruments, and gathers the wool caught on briers.

For Psyche's third task, she is given a crystal vessel in which to collect the black water spewed by the source of the rivers Styx and Cocytus. Climbing the cliff from which it issues, she is daunted by the foreboding air of the place and dragons slithering through the rocks, and falls into despair. Zeus himself takes pity on her, and sends his eagle to battle the dragons and retrieve the water for her.

The last trial Aphrodite imposes on Psyche is a quest to the underworld itself. She is to take a box and obtain in it a dose of the beauty of Persephone, queen of the underworld. Aphrodite claims her own beauty has faded through tending her ailing son, and she needs this remedy in order to attend the theatre of the gods.

Once again despairing of her task, Psyche climbs a tower, planning to throw herself off. The tower, however, suddenly breaks into speech, and advises her to travel to Lacedaemon, Greece, and to seek out the place called Taenarus, where she will find the entrance to the underworld. The tower offers instructions for navigating the underworld:

The airway of Hades is there, and through the yawning gates the pathless route is revealed. Once you cross the threshold, you are committed to the unswerving course that takes you to the very regia of Hades. But you shouldn’t go emptyhanded through the shadows past this point, but rather carry cakes of honeyed barley in both hands, and transport two coins in your mouth.

The speaking tower warns her to maintain silence as she passes by several ominous figures: a lame man driving a mule loaded with sticks, a dead man swimming in the river that separates the world of the living from the world of the dead, and old women weaving. These, the tower warns, will seek to divert her by pleading for her help: she must ignore them. The cakes are treats for distracting Cerberus, the three-headed watchdog of Hades, and the two coins for Charon the ferryman, so she can make a return trip.

Everything comes to pass according to plan, and Persephone grants Psyche's humble entreaty. As soon as she reenters the light of day, however, Psyche is overcome by a bold curiosity, and can't resist opening the box in the hope of enhancing her own beauty. She finds nothing inside but an "infernal and Stygian sleep," which sends her into a deep and unmoving stupor.

Meanwhile, Cupid's wound has healed into a scar, and he escapes his mother's house by flying out a window. When he finds Psyche, he draws the sleep from her face and replaces it in the box, then pricks her with an arrow that does no harm. He lifts her into the air, and takes her to present the box to Aphrodite.

He then takes his case to Zeus, who gives his consent in return for Cupid's future help whenever a choice maiden catches his eye. Zeus has Hermes convene an assembly of the gods in the theater of heaven, where he makes a public statement of approval, warns Aphrodite to back off, and gives Psyche ambrosia, the drink of immortality, so the couple can be united in marriage as equals. Their union, he says, will redeem Cupid from his history of provoking adultery and sordid liaisons. Zeus's word is solemnized with a wedding banquet.

Cupid and Psyche remain happily married, and their first child, born a god despite his half-moral heritage before his conception, is named Bliss.