zagreusrhea

[zagreusrhea]

[zagreusrhea]

Zagreus has never really outgrown his fascination with Uncle Poseidon’s office, so different it is than his own father’s. Hades’ study is ever changing for Zagreus - a principal’s office, a judgement ground, sometimes a sanctuary to hide in or a fortress to fall asleep outside of. Meanwhile, his Uncle’s is a treasure trove to dig through each and every time. There’s something special there now too and Zagreus has been waiting for the Pontius trip for this, maybe for this most of all.

For the past two weeks he’s been digging through the archives and pulling up his mother’s work, reading the words she’s typed, committing them to memory. Memos and reports and margin scribbling. It’s different, to a hold a little thing Persephone created herself, something that is living and breathing. The small plant is - “Cute, she’s so cute.” Can a person love a plant? Zagreus thinks he loves this plant. “ If you had put me in charge of naming her, we’d have a Tim on our hands so trust me when I say: ‘Sepharinium’ is a perfectly respectable name.” He brings his nose right up to its leaves. He should probably ask if it’s poisonous first, huh? Oh well. “I had no clue about my mom’s secret life as a mad scientist - what was she trying to engineer?”

ceto central office | @zagreusrhea

he had a cutting of the main plant done within the day of his texts with zagreus, hadn’t wanted to risk the transplant going wrong for his nephew, for the move back to - wherever zagreus would end up next.

finally he has the chance to show the plant off, even if the kid has seen the inside of his office before, now there’s more to it, more understanding of the choice’s he’s made. the glass base to one of the sections of the room, the terrarium lining the back wall, the selection of plants within.

he twists the pot and the green ribbon, smiling down at it. “so, what do you think? little seph, sephariniums, you can blame younger me for the name. “

[zagreusrhea]

“Might be late, but I won’t ever not show. Do you know they’ve got boat racing here? So much safer than the shit we do in Tartarus, but just as fun. Anyway, got held up in overtime - but am here now.” The ocean spray has brightened his face, messed up his hair, but Zagreus is grinning, squinting through the rays of the sun, enjoying the sight of Dandy with a stick she could measure herself. He makes his way down to the waterfront, delighted to see his old friend. Would there ever be a time where the sight of them wasn’t a comfort? 

The last meeting backstage in Olympe had been brief, and while Zagreus found it a shame that their friendship had been reduced to these brief spurts of interactions, he didn’t find them any less meaningful. Besides, he shows up a sight himself - bright orange drinks with tiny umbrellas in his hands, Aristurtle, the inflatable turtle inner tube around around his waist. Drinks and sunshine are promised and he wants healthy doses of both. “Nyx can be like that, but I think we’re fine.” He points at his hat and sunglasses, after he hands over the drink “They’ll never guess who I am.” He laughs. In truth, there’s no one around. They’ve managed to find a private strip of waterfront and no doubt the seminar with the free Pontius swag happening at that very moment helps keeps the crowds small.

“So what are we doing here? You writing songs about the ocean? I hate to say it, I think that’s been done before.”

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐋𝐀𝐆𝐎 𝐂𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐓, 𝐌𝐈𝐃-𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊.  𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖/ @zagreusrhea

They stand at water’s edge, just close enough for a brush of chilled sea water against the tips of their toes before a frenzied retreat, returning wave to sea. Somewhere, further back, their shoes and bag are discarded on top of a dry enough cluster of rocks. And somewhere further, along the waterline, trots a contented Dandelion, stick as long as she is, balanced in her mouth. Orpheus stands in wait: waiting for Dandy’s return so they might frisbee the stick back down the waterfront, waiting for somebody else to join them. No, not just somebody. Zagreus. 

Two weeks were spent mulling, ruminating over the Heteraidia. Particularly: their mother’s harsh wisdom. They hardly expected to consider her advice, let alone heed it. And yet, when they contacted Zagreus, it was done quickly, discreetly, without the languid charm that became the Aoide brand. 

A location, followed by a simple message: Meet me here, drinks & sunshine? See you soon. It felt entirely strange, sneaking around in pursuit of friendship. This was not Orpheus. Orpheus cared not for secrecy or sneak; but Nyx’s words had a way of haunting. Orpheus had spoke harsh, plain: Even if it means pissing of Zeus. Words swayed by intensity, words Orpheus, now, was not sure they wholly meant. They could not risk what they had, not after all they had lost.

But they would not sacrifice their friendships. Not anymore. They just had to be smart about it.

So, Orpheus waits at the waterfront. Patiently, squinted gaze turned out to the horizon line, humming some half-discovered song. They stop only when they hear footsteps, turning to see an approaching friend. They smile instinctually, though the smile they offer is tired, worn.

“There you are.” They say, trudging up the waterfront, meeting Zagreus half way. “Was gettin’ kinda nervous you might not show.” But, of course. Zagreus came. Zagreus, friend, perhaps one of the best. This very thought crossed their mind often. Nowadays, friends seemed to be in short supply and so they grew particularly fond of those they still had. Orpheus did not voice this loyalty directly, but wondered, just as often, if he suspected, if he knew. He had listened to the new album, hadn’t he? Had he listened carefully enough to know: Patch of Soil, a lament to their friendship, their past, their home? Orpheus hoped.

“Sorry about the, uhm, weird secrecy.” They shrug their shoulders. “Ma kinda … Got into my head. About seeing you. About seeing anyone from Tartarus. ‘S weird.” There is an unsureness in their explanation. How could they begin to explain apparently, seeing you could ruin me. “But, you know me. Always did have issues with authority.” And there it is, the humor they use to break the ice.

[zagreusrhea]

hephaestusgalani​:

It truly is to Zagreus’s credit that he’s managed to coax Hephaestus deeper into the water when it already feels as if he’s submerged. He’s hardly any more exhausted when they find him at 4am than he is during the morning, watching the stars’ reflection on the surface of the ocean, replaying confrontations in his mind and loathing himself for his own self-inflicted cruelty. Can’t even rely on himself for quiet. 

He smiles, wane, when Zagreus floats closer and pats him with a pool noodle. He’s got his arms on the pool edge, resting his chin on the cool surface, but he turns to face Zagreus at their gentle persuasion; hard to deny an offering of benevolence from someone who has never given him anything but exactly that. 

“Not my presentation,” he chuckles. “Strangely, never got nervous with public speaking. But I’ll be sure to tell them of the state of the stonks. Thank goodness you reminded me.”

His eyes flicker shut for a moment, grateful Zagreus has the decency to dance around the subject, but even more thankful when he stops. “It really was done for love. I promise you.” He doesn’t have to lie. This intrinsic loyalty he has towards the Rheas, for their preservation, what is it, if not love? He shrugs. “Just. Hard to take my mind off it when his children and all the paparazzi in Gaia are roaming Pontius. Hard to see how I’ve ruined things with his family. Hard to be alone at times, too.”

-

Hephaestus is really going through it, that much is evident. More self-deprecating their tone than ever, a touch pathetic but in an endearing way. Same way you would think of a wounded woodland creature. A baby fawn, perhaps. Zagreus pushes down the sunglasses he’s wearing (Middle of the night? Don’t care.) at the mention of love. If it really was for love, why did he feel like his love had to live in the shadows? “I believe you,” he says earnestly nonetheless. At the end of the day, he is a romantic at heart. He holds up the noodle as if to say ’do you want the pool noodle?’ and then gives it to Hephaestus anyway. “I think I’ve learned you can’t really control when the truth comes out, it just does. My cousins have known something was broken for a long time - and now they have someone to blame.”  He doesn’t speak to how fair or unfair this is, he just slowly begins his journey to Aristurtle, at the other end of the pool. Zag has just the thing to perk Hephaestus up.

“What’s your side of the story here? I feel like you deserve the chance to tell it once, tell it right.” Does he wish he had done it differently? Not done it at all?

[zagreusrhea]

goldentheseus​:

theseus expected hades. he expected the strange aura of harlotry that the man couldn’t help but exude; he even expected the sentiment, the way that anything hades said might be construed as a threat. ( was that what mino saw in him? ) what theseus did not expect was zagreus, lingering behind like some sort of black mold growing on a perfectly lovely cabinet. 

was he just supposed to ignore zagreus? did he greet him? did hades see him too, or was this some sort of bad trip effect that hadn’t yet worn off? theseus rubbed his eyes, but there zagreus remained. strange. he wondered if he wasn’t the only one aiming for bigger prizes. 

“you know i appreciate the work – adore it, even. i absolutely love the part where i’m alive to do it.” there was so much in front of theseus, but he kept his attention fixed. “but… it’s all a bit pedestrian, isn’t it? it’s been long enough now for you to realize i’m not going to slink off in the night. so take me for a ride. test me out. send me after something bigger. aren’t you at all curious how i’ll do?” 

a glance toward zagreus because he simply could not help himself. “dear zagreus here can attest to my hardworking, team attitude, sir. we’re rather good friends. i’d even be happy to take him under my wing, if you were looking to expand this little internship.” shit, he shouldn’t have mentioned zagreus. it felt entirely faux-pas to mention zagreus. “but, as always, i am at your command.”

@zagreusrhea​

It brings Zagreus some pleasure to know that whatever conversation Theseus had planned for this, however many dialogue paths he had mapped out in an attempt to make himself feel more favorable, they all get shredded to hell the second Zagreus, shadow of his father, appears. One look at Theseus, and it is clear that he is unexpected. One look at Theseus, and Zagreus can tell the train has gone off the rails of whatever carefully curated track was laid down. If Theseus realizes it’s a mistake to mention Zagreus, Zagreus thinks that Theseus should work harder on making his existence less amusing.

“I can absolutely attest to his handwork and team-attitude. But don’t let me steal your spotlight, why don’t you speak to your proudest achievement?” Zagreus considers an olive. “Don’t be modest Theseus.”

He pauses mid motion to smile at Theseus, like he’s looking for blood. Maybe he is. The internship comment certainly didn’t help.

“And for what it’s worth, I sure am curious to know how you would do it.”

@hadesrhea​

[zagreusrhea]

Zagreus knows the only way he is getting Hypnos to engage in recreational time is if he all but kidnaps him. That’s fine, it’s the part hey played in Olympe and it’s the part he’ll play again here. The boat taking them out to the diving spot is on time and though there are rentals, Zag’s skips past the concept of fiscal responsibility and simply buys them both new diving wetsuits. They match, down to the kitsch fish print. Zagreus can’t stop grinning at them and the flippers that make them both waddle around. “Arcadia was great! Had to drag the dresser in front of the door each night though. Wasn’t allowed to open the blinds or curtains either. Achilles and your mom made me promise I would. They were certain I was going to get kidnapped or sniped.”  Zagreus practically hangs over the railing now, trying to see if he can catch a glimpse a dolphin snout underneath the clear waves. “But it was still a blast. Did some sight-seeing, Athena introduced me to Briseis, ate a lot of good food, acquainted myself with many a margarita-”

Somewhere behind him, an instructor says: ‘Sir, please keep your limbs inside the boat.’ Zagreus pulls himself up and over the railing that he’s practically folded himself over, arm outstretched to try and touch the water. He flicks the sea water off his hands.

“My father texted me photos of a sad Cerberus waiting for me at the door every night. No way I could have stayed longer.” They both know it’s not the sole reason of his premature return. “Besides, this was just the pre-trip. A quick mental health break. I told you, next time I’m taking you.” He would have, this time around, but again, they both knew. 

FOR: @zagreusrhea WHERE: SURROUNDING ISLANDS; CORAL REEF DIVING WHEN: 2130.02; WEEK ONE; EARLY MORNING

He hadn’t planned to get too involved in the summit while he’s there. Not that what’s happening isn’t interesting—all of the innovation and development and sheer potential that Pontius flaunts, it’s a little overwhelming, but in a different and far more palatable way than Olympe had been—but his mind has really only been preoccupied with a singular thought since before they’d even left home, and he cannot accomplish what he intends if he lets himself get sucked into diversions the entire time.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, this resolve hasn’t gone down well with certain members of their party, and though he’s managed to wiggle out of one invitation to swim with his friends, he’s not entirely surprised to find Zag waiting for him when he leaves his room this morning. “Okay, I guess I did promise to let you drag me into the water once before we go,” he sighs, resigned but not unhappy to follow them out to the docked boats.

At least it’s easier with Zag. They know enough of what’s happening that he doesn’t feel he has to put on as much of a front with them, and they’ve always been good at distracting him. “How did you like Arcadia?” he asks now, tugging on one of the provided wetsuits. “I heard you came home not long after we got back to Tartarus. You could’ve stayed a little longer.”

[zagreusrhea]

gorgonias​:

he’s  building  to  something .    that  much  she  knows  when  he  turns  away  ,  looks  skyward .    it  doesn’t  feel  like  an  avoidance  tactic  ,  not  really  ,  but  she  does  get  that  feeling .    the  one  that  strikes  just  before  the  lights  come  up  in  a  theatre  ,  in  the  final  seconds  of  a  sporting  match  ,  in  the  fleeting  moments  before  meteors  collide  in  orbit .    anticipation  ,  maybe  ,  of  peace  disrupted .    the  haunting  prolepsis  of  inevitable  things .

she’ll  look  back  on  this  in  a  week  and  wonder  if  she  was  really  surprised  by  what  was  coming .    dusa  always  had  been  reckless  with  her  own  heart  ,  and  zag  was  much  of  the  same .

we  got  into  a  fight .    she  hums  in  reply .    cousins  ,  practically  brothers   –   at  least  in  all  the  ways  that  mattered .    fights  weren’t  uncommon  ,  but  the  way  he  talks  of  it  carries  a  weight  none  of  the  others  had  before .    everything  raises  more  questions .    the  nature  of  the  rheas  ,  one  supposes .

but  then  he’s  passing  it  off  to  her .    a  change  of  track  ,  a  momentary  detour .    cheek  catches  between  her  teeth .

“  no  ,  it’s  reasonable  to  ask .  ”    dusa  nods  ,  shoulder  raising  in  a  crooked  shrug .    “  talking  about  it  is  the  healthy  thing  to  do  anyway ,  right ?  ”    only  fitting  that  she’s  being  asked  to  open up  on  the  surgery  room  floor  of  his  childhood  bedroom .    she’s  certain  these  are  load  bearing  walls  ,  with  the  number  of  things  she’s  said  and  left  to  grow  or  rot  in  this  room .    (   coming  here  at  fourteen  ,  after  talking  to  achilles .    here  ,  the  first  night  in  the  house  when  she  couldn’t  sleep .    here  ,  after  the  breakup  ,  like  she  wasn’t  sure  where  else  to  go .    always  picking  up  the  pieces  when  she  needed  him  to .   )    “  um .    the  short  version  is   .   .   .   toward  the  end  ,  hermes  asked  me  to  move  to  olympe .    to  move  in  with  him .  ”

for  all  she  thinks  she  gets  right  ,  it’s  so  easy  for  her  to  want  to  bury  what  she  gets  wrong .

“  but  i   –   i  couldn’t  leave  tartarus .    or  wouldn’t  leave  ,  i  guess .    if  i  couldn’t  ,  i  wouldn’t  have  felt  so  guilty  for  saying  no .    and  it’s  not  like  i  could  have  expected  him  to  come  here  ,  with  zeus’  expectations  somewhere  in  the  background .  ”    she  tugs  at  a  loose  thread  in  the  blanket  hanging  near  her .    looks  back  at  him .    “  which  gets  to  what  you  do  know .    the  distance  got  harder  ,  and  that  was  why .    or  maybe  i  was  just  self  -  sabotaging .    hindsight  ,  and  all  that .  ”

a  pause .    finally  :    “  so  why  did  i  come  up ?  ”

That love of his, that love that is a music box, is demanding to be closed. He had to find it in him to work against that spring coil mechanism and snap it shut, wrestle it down with all the strength he has. Dusa deserves though, right before he does, to get one look inside. Fuck, this is all wrong, he should be sitting up when he tells her this. Should be looking at her in the eye as she mutters something about healthy communication. He almost chokes on a laugh as he sits up. Healthy is optimistic - though it did often feel like they were the last two optimists that Tartarus had left to offer. You can’t lose her.

And it seems Dusa felt Tartarus had some sort of hold on her as well. There’s mentions of self-sabotaging too - he understands that. Zagreus crosses his legs, so he’s sitting knee to knee with her. He gives very few fucks about the papers underneath. He’s searching for her eyes, a gaze to meet. Dusa’s recount of her love for Hermes is not a surprise, he’s had front row seats to this story for a very long time. “The short version huh?” Zagreus says quietly. It’s just as effective as the long version, except, he was there to see this part, wasn’t he? All those years of the song of them unraveling. He recognizes the moments she’s talking about, feels her hurt as if it were his own.  It’s her tears on his fingers tips when the call is made after all.

She’s looking at him now, waiting.

“You came up because we were talking about people we love. People that we both love.”

And here he is. On the doorstep of the confession, suddenly feeling like the third body in the room. He watches himself tell her something he feels she’s already known. His voice comes down to a near whisper, like he’s telling her something sacred. It is, to him.

“I told them about the crush I had on you.” It’s a relief, to express it with such simplicity. It sweeps through him like a spring breeze, then the words are blowing towards her, like dandelion seeds. “I don’t know when it began,” He adds quickly, “so there’s no point in asking because I’ll just say it was when you were six and you lost your two front teeth. It wasn’t always there, but then it always was.” He hands hands are on his knees. “I’m telling now because, I had every intention of never saying a word about it, but then it came out during this fight and - and I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else, I wanted you to hear it from me.”

It should feel terrifying to crack open his rib cage in this manner, show her the precise location of his heart. But it’s not, it’s not. It’s been nothing but gentle in the palm of her hand.

“You get it, right? Why I didn’t talk about it until now?”

Something moves in the House of Hades, sleeping bodies, clockwork shifting, but Zagreus sits still. The butterflies that explode at the pit of his stomach come to a quivering stop, waiting and waiting for whatever comes next.

[zagreusrhea]

sisyphhean​:

–

Sisyphus almost says, that one was done but don’t worry, I’ve got another– but he holds back, smirking. More fun to save up on surprises, and anyway, doesn’t the guy have easy access to better drugs himself? A gentleman would offer first.

Then Zagreus pulls his head down over his eyes, grinning wide, and whatever control Sisyphus thought he had over the situation– whatever elusive upper hand– abruptly vanishes.

“God,” he says, around the scratchy feeling in his throat. “You look so fucking stupid right now, man.” He shuffles, looks away. Moves his attention to the driver’s seat, with its rows of neon buttons. The interface is, as Zag guessed, pretty fool-proofed. But for some reason it still takes Sisyphus a few seconds and two incorrect tries to get the motor started.

The boat turns on with a subtle purr, barely disturbing the water around it. He knows that will change when they go for some actual speed. At Zagreus’ question he glances up from the control panel, then sends him a look. “Hey, you came onto my boat and started asking questions about my rod, but I’m the bad guy here?” The blues and greens of the interface light up their faces from below, like an aquarium. “But yea, I’ve got some gear stored under the seats. Good shit too. You’ll see.”

A few screen taps later and Sisyphus leans back in the driver’s seat, taking his hands off the panel. “Okay, it’s programmed to take us to the first spot.” He wiggles his eyebrows once, up and down like a cartoon sailor. “Do you want to press the big red button to get us going? I bet you do. Tourists always do.”

The back of the other’s head gets a look at the failed attempts. “Real smooth there, does it always take you more than two tries to get an engine going?”

It would also, perhaps, be great if the innuendos didn’t roll so easily off the tongue with this one. Zagreus shakes it off. It’s fact to be ignored if not laughed at, nothing more. It’s nice though, to feel as if they’ve known each other for a while. 

A shame that they felt like their friendship had to be something they had to hide.

“Do I want to push the big red button? Why are you asking me that like I’m twelve and when you very well know the answer is yes, of course I fucking do. Which one is it? I recommend you tell me before I just start pressing all the red buttons.”

Zag’s inching towards the dashboard in case Thersander is wondering if he is bluffing or not. There’s a few red buttons and one big red obvious one. His hand hovers it. “So what’s a gardener doing, knowing about all these fishing spots?” Zagreus gives a glance so he’s looking at them from his periphery. Do you give everyone that stumbles onto your boat a tour or just the ones you like? “You run into a lot of fish while gardening?” His gaze runs over tousled hair. He makes a note to swipe an extra bucket hat for them next time he’s in the Pontius gift shop.

[zagreusrhea]

The water is clear here, shimmering blue glass to view a whole different world through. He’d been here once, when he was 7? 8? Before the bullet… thing. His first time snorkeling, Zagreus had accidentally inhaled a lung full of water when a sea turtle swam too close. He’s laughed it off, almost hacked up a tiny lung too as Uncle Possy pat his back as he spat up water on the beach sand. It had never instilled in him a fear of the water - if anything, it inspired him to go further, dive to the bottom of the lake in Tartarus. Now, after all these years, Zagreus was delighted to find the blue shimmering water and the sandbars underneath it just the same. If he remembered correctly, there was a reef to be found somewhere around here too, and another spot where the sandbar dipped off into deep waters.

The strip of beach wasn’t private, more so a well-kept secret and Zagreus shouldn’t have been surprised that he wasn’t the only one familiar with its treasures. Promethus swims (ha) into his field of vision - very much on the land - as Zagreus pops out of the water and Zagreus lets out a sound of surprise. “Promethus!” He paddles to shore. “Theus. Prommy. Eus. You have a nickname? If you don’t have one, I could get creative.” Zag makes it to the sand, climbs at full height. Laughs. “I am! Not a lot of swimmers in Tartarus so it’s just me. And you? If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were following me. I didn’t know snorkeling was big in Olympe.”

CLOSED STARTER || zagreus rhea ( @zagreusrhea ) LOCATION: nearby snorkel & diving spot TIMESTAMP: the kalavria summit – first week ; late morning

The thought of spending some time alone to enjoy what Pontius had to offer sounded like heaven to Prometheus. Ever since the Heteraidia Festival last month, chaos had seemed like a permanence in their life now, what with the constant scandal that dropped on top of their usual paperwork. It was directions that could lead them to uncover the secret hidden deep in the belly of Olympe, which was always a good thing when all things were considered. Though it came with a price of additional hours of muddying their hands to clean after all the mess. So while yes, the Kalavria Summit technically also meant work, the fact that they weren’t playing host meant a little bit more time free time – and Prometheus had every intention of squeezing in a little bit of vacation after being put through the wringer for a full month now.

Though now that they were all clad up in wetsuit, Prometheus was beginning to wonder if maybe they should have invited someone to tag along. But considering their own travel party consisted of the Rheas (the very people they were trying to get a break from) and Icarus (who had been persistently elusive as of late), the list of people they wanted to bring along had quickly dwindled down to none.

The Fates had a different plan however, they always do, because it was then that they had spot Zagreus. The laughter bubbled out of them before Prometheus could stop it– mostly out of amusement for how happenstance had brought them together in the same space again, partially at the irony of being shoved towards another Rhea when they had gone out of their way to avoid them. “We have to stop meeting like this,” they mused aloud as the approached Zagreus, flashing him a little grin. “Are you here by yourself?”

[zagreusrhea]

It’s hard to ignore Pontius’ greenhouse, so Zagreus doesn’t even make an attempt. In his first week he signs up for one of the tours - and almost as quickly peels away from the group when it begins. His attention span is a butterfly to be caught, much more interested in his mother’s work. He moves past the perennials and the annuals, looks for the genetically modified stuff. 

She asked me help name one - I called them Sepharaniums.

The original seedling is in Uncle Posideon’s office, his baby sister Seph as Zagreus had called her, but Zag had been curious, wanted to see what else here had been genetically modified at the hands of his mother. The greenhouse boasts species from all across Gaia, each clearly nurtured and loved… and upon closer look the pipes and drainage reminded him a lot like the ones to be found in Tartarus. As if they had been built from the same blueprint.

A familiar face shows up just as he’s got his fingers in the dirt, looking at the sprinkler system. “Hey Stranger! Pat, right?” Zag pulls his hand from the mud. “I admit, this is probably not a great look considering the last time we ran into each other - but I’m just admiring the pipes and drainage. Those are some cute water vents you’ve got there.” Dirt gets shaken off his hands. “What? Oh. Plants are more my mother’s thing, but it’s a nice way to remember her - and I’m not half bad at not killing them.”

who: @zagreusrhea where: the gardens when: summit - week 1

The tours in the greenhouse has made his life a bit harder to work during, lucky for him that he can also work from the lab, however being around the greenhouse and answering people’s questions was also part of his job because there’s only so many tours that their employees are able to do and unfortunately their knowledge is limited and besides, Patroclus needed to show his face in here either way, not just in the summit itself. 

Right now Patroclus was checking on a plant they were keep an eye on, because between the tours he still needed to do his job, but a familiar face poking and glancing made him pause. Zagreus. Out of all the places the young man could be he found himself in the greenhouse? Patroclus shouldn’t talk to him again, his heart was already full of guilt the minute he found out that the young man that broke a machine was indeed the same kid from all those years ago. 

His legs already made the decision for him it seems, as he walked closer to Zagreus. “Do you have interest in plants, Stranger?” Oh, if he only knew that they weren’t strangers at all.

[zagreusrhea]

alectocarrion​:

With the arrival of those who hold her heart, the ship becomes a place of danger. It’s a minefield, faces peppered between – casualties lost to the lies she’s let drip from beneath her tongue. Though there is no truth to them, the outsiders do not know, and in order for their plan to work, it needs to stay that way. So they ease their time into doing things off of the ship, careful only to approach such activities when she knows there are no fellow shadows laying about. 

It’s midday and the sun is unrelenting. The sunglasses she’s packed away lay overtop of their eyes, and though it is without effort, they seem to channel Nyx in more ways than one. They drag behind, toes of their shoes causing sand to hit the ankles of two fairly inebriated women ahead of them. They do not notice, their arms linked, heads thrown back as if in an ad campaign for the perfect vacation. She’s sure the tourism board would fucking love the very image. Whether Alecto’s annoyance festers with help from the heat, the sand, or the constant laughter, she is unsure. 

Here, she cannot use force. Here, Alecto cannot call for them to close their mouths, or else she’d cut their tongues. This is not Tartarus, and the shadows do not serve these halls. She had wondered, and wondered briefly, when first setting her gaze upon the beaches of her old home, what would have happened had they not lost to Poseidon’s greed. To think that she would come out of this life, should it have happened, unscathed and not derived from shadows would be ignorant – they would just be a different length, a different pattern. Before she can fantasize about doing their heads in, their’s an arm hooking her elbow. The instinct to vault them forward, to bend her knees, to reach is fast acting, but she is cut off from doing so by a hand slapping to her mouth. The smell of sunscreen curls around her nose as she’s pulled backwards, leaves from the edge of the walkway scratching at her exposed calves. 

Once released, Alecto turns, eyes widening at the sight of Zagreus before her. “You fucking– fucker.” There is delight that coats Alecto’s tongue, and she has to all but stop herself from launching herself at him – not out of anger, but out of familiarity. There he stands, her chosen companion on long nights where boredom sunk their hearts. “No fucking shit.” A laugh escapes, and Alecto reaches forward, knuckles pressing gently into Zag’s chest. “I nearly had you fucking laid out, you know that, right?” It’s hard to fight the smile that pulls their lips upward, and so they let it be – because this may be one of the only times that somebody is glad to see her. 

It’s the shift in weight, the small step forward. He sees her go for the hug and then stop. His own impulse control is not that tame. He lifts them up, swings them around, till they’ve full turn and twirl. “Uh huh yup. But the important part is you didn’t and now I can live to tell the tale.” His binoculars make this embrace uncomfortable, he has to drop them too soon. Nevertheless, Zagreus reaches out and pinches a cheek lovingly - immediately withdrawing his hand, because knows that’s a snapped wrist if he keeps it there too long. This is the way it always felt with the furies. Him, some wide-eyed curious soul, sticking his fingers into the mouth of something  that would very much like shred him with its teeth for fun. A game of chicken, Zagreus could never turn down a dare. He’d played with fire enough to have grown accustomed to its heat.

Alecto though, Alecto is a camaraderie hard lost and even harder forgotten. He’ll take them any day, teeth and all. “What’s it been like? You a pro-fisher yet?” There was fear, from day one, that Alecto would perhaps take to Pontius better than Tartarus - and yet for some reason that fear had yet to creep into Zagreus’ dreams. It was possible, sure, anything was possible, but he could envision what such a bridge looked like. Was happy to cross it when he came to it. Tartarus, like he had said to Hypnos, didn’t have to be the cage it could be the anchor.

“I, of course, technically can’t ask you how things are going, “ He waggles his eyebrows (he’s mimicking the idiosyncrasies of people he likes to call fucking nerds. Thersander, it’s Thersander.) “But if you want to maybe share with the class - me being the only member of the class - I wouldn’t stop you.”

[zagreusrhea]

sisyphhean​:

“Hey. Buddy.” Sisyphus unfolds himself from the seat of the cruiser, drops the joint and crushes it under heel. Squints at Zagreus in the low-light, as if he hadn’t already recognized him from his footsteps approaching on the dock. “I work here. I’m the one who’s supposed to be catching you.” He moves towards Zag, stops when he’s within arms reach, one foot propped on the edge of the boat as if to jump back on the dock. Extends a hand as far as it will go. And pulls off Zagreus’ hat. “Sorry, I can’t be seen with a guy in a fucking bucket hat. My cred would never recover.” He peers out at the dark ocean around them. “For some reason, I think your face will be fine without it.”

This is the second time a meeting with Zagreus has kicked off with a comment about his face. Sisyphus scowls and steps back, shuffling on the plasticky boat carpet. Gestures in front of him. “Well?” And wow, he’s a fucking idiot. Him, Sisyphus. Zagreus too, but Sisyphus especially, and especially right now, especially for this. “I’ll get fired if I let you sink one of the boats all on your lonesome. Let me press the fancy buttons, okay? I’ll take you to a good spot. Lots of fish, whatever.”

-

The joint gets dropped and then crushed. “Aw, we could have shared that, Haven’t you heard of the five second rule?” He’s joking. Mostly. But the invite is clear as any. His hat gets swiped. Zagreus dumps the fishing rod and tackle box onto the other side of the railing, and then vaults over after them, all limbs. What cred? Zagreus wants to tease. Because that shirt tanked any you had. But he has no intentions of saying this, no point in dragging a new friend that hard just yet. You built up to that sort of camaraderie. He doesn’t say See there you are, calling me pretty again either. He snatches back the hat and pulls it over his head, till it’s covering his eyes. “Good thing there’s no one around to see us, huh?” Shifts it back so he can see again. Gives a lopsided grin. “You know Cassandra exists right? I could probably figure out how to drive one of these things in five minutes.” 

He does not know the fishing spots though, he’ll give Thersander that. “Sure - show me where the good fish are, you won’t hear any protests from me. All in all this is a very effective kidnapping attempt.” Zagreus dusts off his hands. “Do you have a rod or do you plan on just diving in after them with your bare hands?”

[zagreusrhea]

gorgonias​:

she’s  familiar  with  unresolved  things .    the  final  night  of  heteraidia  was  full  of  them  ,  but  between  than’s  recovery  and  zag’s  new  role  and  hades’  panel  preparation   –   well  ,  she  hasn’t  had  time  to  dwell  on  it .    no  opportunity  to  think  about  all  the  little  details  and  pieces  she  was  given  ,  before  stopping  just  short  of  what  it  would  take  to  step  back  and  see  the  entire  picture .

maybe  she’s  okay  with  that .    she  was  busy  ,  after  all  ,  that  was  fine .    and  maybe  ,  on  some  level  ,  she  knew  it  was  best  she  didn’t  get  those  integral  ,  central  pieces  of  the  puzzle .    sometimes  nothing  was  better  than  something   –   consider  it  a  form  of  self  -  preservation  from  the  unknown .

so  one  day  turned  into  two  weeks .

and  ,  at  some  point  ,  9  pm  turns  into  11  pm .    they’re  encircled  in  all  these  hard  copies  of  work  from  thirty  years  or  more  ago .    her  hair’s  pulled  back  in  some  haphazard  bun  so  she  can  focus  ,  though  most  of  it’s  loose  ,  and  there’s  this  magnetic  ,  fervent  gleam  in  his  eyes  as  they  bounce  things  off  one  another .    your  mother’s  brilliant  ,  zag .    is  ,  was .    tense  doesn’t  matter  when  reading  this  work  leaves  her  reeling  ,  as  if  she’s  been  swept  up  into  the  brain  of  this  woman  she’ll  never  meet .    she  knows  she  would  have  liked  to .    these  ideas  for  tartarus   .   .   .   fates .    what  are  you  thinking ?

in  the  house  of  hades  ,  there’s  no  telling  when  darkness  falls  like  a  guillotine  up  above .    the  seconds  stretch  ,  the  seconds  fold  in  on  themselves  ,  and  11  bleeds  out .    it’s  easy  to  lose  track  of  time  between  the  beats  of  her  heart .    (   hasn’t  it  always  been  that  way  around  him ?    the  simplicity  ,  the  gentle  contentment .    the  two  of  them  ;   attached  at  the  hip  ,  she  remembers  one  of  the  adults  tsking  when  she  was  eight  ,  thirteen  ,  twenty .   )    somewhere  in  the  house  ,  a  clock  chimes  twice .

dusa  has  read  the  same  sentence  four  times  when  something  jabs  into  her  shoulder .

“  hey !  ”    a  brighter  ,  less  hazy  mimicry  of  her  objection  two  weeks  ago .    the  upturn  of  her  lips  is  gradual  in  the  late  hour  ,  but  undeniably  there  ,  as  she  grabs  the  triangle  and  flicks  it  back  toward  him .    “  watch  it .  ”    it  knocks  off  his  chest   /   bounces  once  ,  twice  ,  and  stops  somewhere  among  the  blanket  of  papers .    dusa  finally  sets  aside  the  folder  splayed  open  in  her  lap  and  opens  her  mouth  to  say  something  about  kalavria  ,  or  how  to  bring  something  or  another  into  2130  ,  or  maybe  nothing  relevant  at  all  ,  when   –

i’m  ready  to  talk  about  it .    one  of  those  unresolved  things  ,  offered  on  an  outstretched  palm .    a  crease  forms  between  her  brows  ,  and  she  nods .    “  okay .    yeah  ,  um   –   i’m  listening .  ”    dusa  curls  her  legs  beneath  her  and  leans  against  whichever  piece  of  furniture  is  behind  her  ,  letting  it  do  the  work  of  bracing  her  weight .    “  wherever  you  want  to  start .  ”

The piece of paper strikes him in the chest, something something arrow through the heart. Dusa’s tucking her legs underneath her, just like he found her on that couch in olympe. Her lips curve up. Isn’t it a kindness, to keep her like this? Zagreus knows that’s not how the truth works. His mother is close, perhaps thats why he feels brave.

“We got into a fight - it’s not really my place to say about what, because it’s not about me, not really. But your name came up, and we talked about you for a bit -” He tips backwards and rolls onto his back, so he’s facing away from her, eyes tracing the stone of the ceiling.  He wonders if, on some level, she knows what he’s meandering towards. Wonders if she minds really. A meandering hardly matters when your arms are looped with the right people, huh? How to express this particular sentiment though. He’d had plenty of time to grow used to it — and had grown to learn to ignore it.

“- Why did the two of you break up?” Zagreus asks. This is stalling, but it also isn’t. For all the ways their footfalls land in sync, they’ve never really talked about what they crush underfoot. “You’ve never really talked about it…��� He finally turns his head towards her. Huffs away the stray corner of a file that tickles his nose. Her fly away hairs cause of that bun have got her in a halo. “It’s okay if you still don’t want to talk about it.”

It feels like plenty of Dusa’s life has been her running from things, first her family and then, maybe even Hermes. He hopes she knows her home is here, but he finds himself suddenly and desperately wanting to know all about what she’s left behind - if only so he and this place never become that: a thing she wants to erase.

[zagreusrhea]

Aristurtle

[zagreusrhea]

herarhearp​:

.

It was a good thing that Hera only had one nephew, because she would have trouble not showing her favoritism. It was impossible to stay upset when Zagreus was around. She walks to him, bends to give him a kiss on the cheek before sitting down next to his colorful turtle. “Hey, Zag. Does your new friend have a name?” She nods to the inflatable animal sitting by her side. “Not so fast! This drink is exactly what I need.” She confirms her point by taking a good sip of the tequila sunrise, then eats the cherry on top of it. “Absolutely delicious.”

The mention of the surprise has her smiling even brighter, and she places the drink back on the table to check the gift back. Nectar schnapps? She doesn’t remember those from her time on Tartarus, but if Zag is recommending them, they must be good. “That’s very thoughtful of you, dear. Thank you.” Then, Hera opens it and sniffs the product. “Before I mix this with my tea, are there any side effects I should be aware of?” 

“That’s Aristurtle there. He’s got a lot to say about The Nicoma-sea-an Ethics.” 

Aunt Hera still moves with grace despite it all. There’s something to be learned there. In Tartarus, you strike whatever stabs you in the back dead. Up here, you didn’t let any knife affect your gait for a second. “You mean other than the side effect of a good time?” It supposedly gave you a little luck in love. “Just a few superstitions here and there. Next time you throw one of your charity events, add some to the punch bowl - you’ll have the donors lining up in no time.” 

He leans forward to adjust Aristurtle and to keep him from falling off the cushions. “But if you’re looking for something stronger, I have a well curated selection for you to choose from.” He pats Aristurtle. His little stash of drugs was indeed inside Aristurtle. Zagreus laughs. “I don’t mean for this to turn into some shady back-alley deal, Aunt Hera! I want to know how you are! Dinner wasn’t exactly the best time to catch up. Pour one out for my unsung birthday rap, huh?”

[zagreusrhea]

The cab takes its time, the bullet train makes him wait. Terror is not kind to Zagreus after five hours shooting it straight. It sits under his eyelids, threatens to crack his ribs with each breath. Beloved Cerberus meets him at the door and shaking hands greet the 154 pounds of fur that hurls towards him. “Hey boy, don’t tell me Megs made an early riser of you,” Zagreus manages between the licks and barks and whatever else Cerberus has to say about his return. Scratches are offered behind the ears and underneath the chin. Zagreus only calls Tartarus home whenever Cerberus is in his line of sight - because home is wherever his dog is.

But the terror hasn’t left, if anything it balloons, demanding his attention now that he is capable of acting on it. He needs to find Than and Dusa, Hypnos too, before this thing in his chest bursts. He starts off down the hall, towards their room, only to have Cerberus whine, push a cold wet nose into his arm and practically lead him towards the right, towards one of the kitchens. Zagreus looks - and through a sliver in the cascading doorways he spots them, curved over the sink in a half moon. It’s eerie and familiar all at once - familiar because there’s someone who looks just like Than in their kitchen, eerie because even at first glance it’s easy to see there’s a stranger underneath their skin.

At some point, they notice him, catch themselves on the cabinets. Zagreus wants to snap at them to be careful - but can’t. What the fuck do they mean by No, absolutely not? 

“No? No what? You said not to answer till the morning, it’s morning.” He’s trying to find the bits of them that he recognizes, trying look past the peeling paint. He’s a little chipped himself too. For the last five hours, Zagreus has been undeniably sick with terror at the thought of what he would find here waiting for him, at the thought of what he hadn’t been here to help with. Zagreus expects the terror to quell at the sight of them - but It’s 7am and Than is half dead and half alive in their kitchen and the terror very much stays. It sounds almost like anger, actually, if you tilt your head.

“Where’s Dusa?”

Location: Kitchen in the House of Hades, three days after arrival from Olympe, 7am Status: for @zagreusrhea​

Five hours and change since Than lost his chaos-damned mind and called Zag. Five hours and slightly less change since he listened to the rambling voicemail without response. Not that Thanatos is counting. It’s good, actually. It’s good Than hasn’t heard from him. It means they can continue in their denial, not thinking about Zagreus and in turn not acknowledging the knot in their stomach like swallowed needles. 

Five hours and change since the voicemail. Thanatos pretends not to read the clock blinking on the microwave when sticks his head under the kitchen faucet and turns it on. He opens his throat to the cold water and thinks of other, more productive time signatures.

Twenty minutes since the nausea eased enough that Than could eat something. Thirty minutes since he gave up trying to sleep. Two hours since he rage quit his most recent DOC game. Three since he finally ushered Dusa back to bed. Five since she found him. At least eight since symptoms start to hit Than like a bullet train, rather than a slow trickle. Thirty-two since he’s been home, allowed to be miserable in his own bed. Approximately seventy-nine since his last dose of Lethe. This is all it is, really. A game of time. Outrunning his own body until it’s too exhausted to keep up the race. 

Than comes up for air. He wipes his mouth. Cerberus’ tail is thumping against the floor out in the hall. They’d feel guilty for waking the poor dog up if he weren’t also keeping odd hours since they came home. Pawing at doors, whining after the strangest creaks in the wood. Than, at least, has kept those updates to himself. Hopes others have had the same forethought. 

A door opens and shuts. Cerberus yelps. Not wholly unusual for – 7:08, the microwave blinks at him – the waking hours. Than sticks his head back under the faucet and drinks until his mouth feels a little less like something’s died in it. Until he can run his tongue along the backs of his teeth without wincing. Out in the hall, Cerberus’ greeting has dulled down to the usual panting enthusiasm. Someone must have indulged him. Someone is, actively, by the sound of it. Someone who sounds a lot like – 

Thanatos jerks away from the sink hard and fast enough to slam his back into the cabinets. The corner catches between his shoulder blades, and then he’s hopeless to the string of muttered curses. He contemplates hitting something and decides against it.

Because Zagreus is standing in the entry way, bag at his feet and darker than a shadow in the unlit kitchen, illuminated from behind by the hall. Thanatos can pretend away his voice and his smell – relics and remnants of fever dreams from earlier in the night. But they would know the shape of him anywhere.

“No. No, absolutely not.”

[zagreusrhea]

.