#ODYSSEUS. / test muse.

[bigidiotenergy]

i love drawing toxic yaoi on company time (ft gigi's ody and anniflamma's poseidon)

[multydoodles]

Mythology & Its Connection with IDV

I recently got the time to check Ashes of Memory and was astonished by the number of mythology referenced just in the story mode! As usual, I'll list the connected references instead of delving into the deeper meaning, leaving that to the theorists out there.

First, let's look at the names introduced in the Potion List during Miss DeRoss investigations; Orpheus, Siren Song, Mnemosyne & Hydra are the listed names for each drug alongside their ingredients.

Orpheus is the protagonist of "Orpheus & Eurydice." In the story, the musician travels to the depths of Hell to retrieve his wife, Eurydice, only to fail one of Hades' tests for her freedom. Sirens are human-like creatures with alluring voices. They appear in the Odyssey, where they hunt Odysseus' ship crew before the protagonist saves the ship. Mnemosyne is the goddess of memory and remembrance. She is a member of the Titans and the mother of the muses. The Hydra is a serpentine monster famous for its appearances in the story of Heracles and his Twelve Labors, where it is eventually buried alive by rocks.

Now let's look at the skin/cosmetics available for each member of AOM. (As I can't do all characters in one post, there are too many) Neat-ease hides small references to the character's background in the skins or objects given in each essence.

The following names that shine among the rest are: Phyllis (Entomologist), Pandora (Little Girl) & The Orphan Of Goetia (Prospector.)

The legend of Phyllis recounts the tragic tale of her taking her own life in anguish upon discovering that Demophon, who had been transformed into an almond tree by the gods, would not return to her.

Pandora is mostly famous for opening the jar ( or box, in later renditions of the myth) unleashing the greatest evil of humankind. Leaving only hope as the last thing remaining.

Now, the last one is quite peculiar. The "Goetia" is not from Greek Mythology; instead, it is from Satanism. They're explained in the first of the five sections of the Ars Goetia grimoire, which contains descriptions of the 72 demons that are said to have been summoned by Solomon

Unfortunately, the text never specified which demon the skin references. I hypothesize that it could be Asmodeus, Aim, Caim, or Aamon due to the fire and bird connections.

[blackthornprime]

Greek Poem- I

Sing to me, O Muse, of the tale profound,

Of Odysseus, the hero renowned,

Who sailed the seas, in war and woe,

On a journey home, through trials unknown.

From Troy he sailed, with his warriors bold,

Bound for Ithaca, his kingdom of old,

Through storms and strife, his courage shone,

Guided by Athena, goddess alone.

But Poseidon, god of sea and storm,

With wrathful fury, to the hero sworn,

Sent tempests fierce to thwart his way,

And test his will, day by day.

On Circe's isle, with her enchanting song,

Odysseus found himself trapped, for long,

Her magic potions, turned his men to swine,

But with Hermes' aid, he broke the spell divine.

Next came the deadly sirens' lure,

Their enchanting voices, oh so pure,

But Odysseus, with ears of wax,

Sailed past unharmed, through their attacks.

Then Scylla and Charybdis, the monsters dire,

One a beast, the other a maelstrom sire,

Through their deadly straits, the hero sailed,

His crew decimated, but victory prevailed.

At last, to the land of the Phaeacians he came,

Where he told his tale, his heart in flame,

Of his long journey, of his trials and pain,

Till at last, to Ithaca, home he'd regain.

But upon his return, more challenges arose,

His beloved wife besieged, by unwelcome foes,

With cunning mind and loyal heart,

Odysseus devised a plan, to play his part.

Disguised as a beggar, he bided his time,

Testing the suitors, their sins and crime,

Till the moment came, for vengeance pure,

With bow and arrow, his aim sure.

With a swift shot, he struck them down,

The suitors fell, in Ithaca's town,

And once more, Odysseus reigned as king,

His loyal wife by his side, in joy they sing.

Thus ends the tale of brave Odysseus,

His journey long, but victorious,

Through trials and tribulations, he did endure,

A hero's heart, brave and pure.

[heyjude19-writing]

Also I had a musing I would hope you could share your own opinion on.

I'm so glad you find him as interesting and intriguing as I do C! 🌈

I'm a sucker for Greek mythos and I cannot wait to see how ur Draco’s journey will unfold. His aesthetic lends itself to the classics, lends itself to the analogy which is why I think I often make this connection. On top of his character being simply compelling, he has an air of timeless and competitiveness that reminds me of the age old Herculean hero that stand the test of time.

I don't like to prophesies too much bc I love to go in reading things blind (I avoid conspiracies and teasers like the plague!) but I cannot help myself in getting excited to see how he will confront and face crossroads and compare them to the great ancients.

If our golden boy will be more likely to pull an Apollo or become Achilles. The thing that makes characters interesting imo is how the deal 'in the complicated'. When they are taken away something they want, or confronted with a problem, do they go red or do they mourn in the quiet and peace? And I think from what little we know of in Draco from the chapters of what we've seen, he is a character that has more than what meets the eye. which makes him all the more compelling to see what happens when he splits.

We all know the well told romance of Achilles and Patroclus on how they were lovers/friends but also fellows competitors and Patroclus went to the Trojan war just bc his lover was destined for greatness there. He was a supportive bf haha. Achilles was very much following (up until the death of Patroclus) a very, 'healthy' doctrine to war. He fell in line and was excellent.

But when Patroclus was killed nameless grief took over Achilles and went genuinely insane with his screams of cry and revenge. He cried so horribly that even his mother Thetis could hear in the depths of the sea and went up to comfort his son. He kept the corpse of his lover in his tent for the entirety of the war as he extracted his revenge that was so bloody it was feral. He slept with Patroclus's corpse, delusional kept it, and threatened anyone who suggested to remove it. He wanted to be buried with him by the time the war was done and made Odysseus swear that he would see this happen. Obv as we know he killed Hector.

I remember shivering in class when I was a teen remembering the poem in the Iliad Book 18, that, he said, 'neither food nor drink shall glide down my throat, for as long as he [Patroclus] is mangled in my tent I only crave murder and blood and the rattling of dying'.

So does Draco follow the same blood wounded vengeful fate like Achilles? Will he move heaven and earth to go on his own Taylor swift reputation era tour? Or will he be a different drum, one of peace and calm like the story of Apollo?

The story of Apollo, as the God of music and dance, prophecies and healing (also God of the Sun, queue the analogy of why I think of Draco for obvious blonde hero reasons :P) fell in love with a mortal man named Hyacinthus who was as well a Spartan warrior prince famous for his beauty and everyone wanted him. men and women, the whole lot!

Include the God of the West wind Zephyrus. But Hyacinthus chose Apollo among his many admirers and they had the best romance dude. They would do all kinds of things together like music, dance, archery, they were both extremely sporty (as Leo is!!).

But Zephyrus was rotting with jealousy of their romance, that while they were playing archery, he blew Zephyrus's arrow off course and it hit him in the head and killed him.

Apollo was obviously inconsolable and mourned his lover and tried to commit su**ide many times hoping to join his lover in death. And bc he was inconsolable, he decided to always remember Hyacinthus by naming the famous flower by him and made music and games after him. And Hyacinthus bloom every spring now.

So it will be interesting to see whether Draco will be the type to be bloodthirsty, angry for his Harry or if he is a blonde hero that's more of a mourner?

These are the kind of musings I catch myself thinking of Draco and would love to know where ur heads at when it comes to it :)

oh wow, lots of theories here. so i read the greek classics much too long ago and most of what i remember is related to the web comic Lore Olympus tbh 😅. i'd say i don't really see a hero vs mourner dichotomy in the drarry story im writing as it's not one of war and violence, but more one of two people trying to find their way back to one another. they've moved past the bloodthirsty, angry part of their lives and it's more a question of coming at a relationship from two different perspectives with the same end goal and trying not to destroy each other in the process.

[mythvoiced]

-. nyanya test muses~

Just muses I'm 'hmm-hmm'-ing about, I might be writing them already but haven't added them properly and yknow anything I want it to mean >:3

Jiang Cheng | age verse-dependent 18-25+ | he/him (the grudge;)

Canon character from MXTX's MDZS and related media, I'm mostly familiar with the books and some things from The Untamed, I am actually watching the donghua right now, but very slow & chill about it. Depending on verse, he is either a disciple/heir to the Yunmeng Jiang clan or its leader. Terribly repressed, very angy because he's insecure, and he knows no feeling better than he knows grief. Visually speaking, I like his donghua/manwha appearance the most, the tight bun? The mean face? Beautiful.

Xiao Xingchen | 20s | he/him (the righteous;)

Canon character from MXTX's MDZS and related media, as above in terms of what my portrayal is based on. Rogue cultivator, student of legendary cultivator Baoshan Sanren, painfully good, righteous, came down from the Mountain™ to 'help save the world', he will always give everyone the benefit of the doubt and he's just too good. Canonically blind in main verse.

Odysseus | 20s-30s | he/him (the seafarer;)

I had him around a while but then muse vanished and sometimes it resurfaces, bare-bones stuff. Canon character from Homer's Odyssey with major influences from EPIC: The Musical and my own interpretation of his psyche. It's the guy that's taking 20 years to come back from a war the guy in charge said would be 'over swiftly'. Cunning, quick-witted and sharp-tongued, he tries to solve situations by using his brain until his hand is ultimately forced into brawn. Also, apparently his name basically means 'to piss people off' lmao.

WIP/UC+

[uroborosymphony]

Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus

Will be found on this blog as a Verse 5.

I often do write villains/morally grey characters/anti heros. I however was not expecting Aphrodite to have so many ugly sides, I only remembered her as spreading love and beauty all around and being dedicated to her mission. It's a good twist I can use however - Her being this beauty obsessed tyran. As I do mix canons with oc ideas I can picture my Aphrodite over here to pose as this exquisite Goddess with such a warm smile on her lips and adores everything beautiful and wants everything to Stay Beautiful - in a cruel way. She would change your face if it's not Beautiful enough. She perhaps even lives in this gorgeous place and has many guests over all the time in her beautiful white dress and when they visit, she shows them her little Circus : Cages of deformed humans she watches for entertainment as to her, there should be only Beauty. In a twisted way yes she is Beautiful outside but Oh so Ugly inside.

Doom, son of Nyx

Can be found on my second multi muse blog : here.

He is a freshly created muse of mine who can be found on my new multi muse blog for my male characters. I name him Doom (named Moros in the Greek mythology however I like Doom better). He is the son of Nyx, goddess of the Night. I write him as punished by the Olympians for not carrying his role impartially that is to guide humans to their doom. He interfers, which goes beyond his role and impacts Fate with a capital F. He is therefore trapped to live a human life re-incarnated over and over, under the name of Geun and is tested by the Olympians. For his development, I planned him to mix with humans in ways that actually make his will to interfer even bigger : it's worse now. I want another god to free him from his punishment and for him to unleash the Beast. With his memories back he will want to get revenge against the Olympians and play even more.

Calypso, daughter of Atlas

Can be found on my first multi muse blog : here.

So my issue with Calypso is that she is my typical character, I always always write crazies obsessed with the love of their loves and would kill themselves out of love. So yes she will be completely insane for Odysseus as I will stick to Homer a little, but I want to add a twist to her in order to add more to this muse. She will come with a modern verse as well.

[apatilcs]

muses. /myo͞oz/

all muses are subject to change. that being said, muses are highly dependent on activity, mentality, and more. I do not write all my muses ( or any, for that matter ) complacent with the lore and mythos given in their respective locations. they are all heavily headcanon inspired, with their own lore and thoughts behind their character. as such, I do my best to bring them to life in a way that displays this, while honoring and respecting their sources.

muses taken from mythology.

odysseus of ithaca - ( open )

penelope of ithaca - ( test )

polites - ( open )

athena - ( open )

poseidon - ( open )

zeus - ( open )

aphrodite - ( open )

medusa - ( open )

apollo - ( open )

**calypso - ( open )

circe - ( open )

patroclus - ( open )

telemachus - ( open )

a variety of other gods and monsters ( request/plotting only )

**note: I will not outright write triggering content, but I do heavily portray calypso as an abuser and obsessive of odysseus. she will act as such ic, talking of him as if he is the love of her life, in humiliating ways, manipulation, and more. this will not be ignored, but it will not be romanticized.

[shimmerbeasts]

So, I discovered EPIC: The Musical (yes, I am late to the party), and now I cannot get the idea of Odysseus!Wyll out of my head. Or at least, take inspiration from Odysseus, heck, even people like Hagen of Tronje, to prep up the backstory he has. Aka yes, I was always annoyed by the Folk Hero background and its stupid implication of good hero, a nice person. Just bah! I am just like Great, I am already testing Zariel and originally planned on testing Lae'zel. Ergo three test muses.

Thoughts?

[superkooku]

Thank you for the tag 😛

So here's my opinion on the subject :

For starters, your story is fundamentally different from Greek mythology.

There is that Disney™ charm and innocence that, while perfectly fitting the story, is completely absent from the myths, that aim for more epic, tragic stories, or for allegoric representations of real life.

So it's already very difficult to compare. I did find some stuff, though.

1. Aster as Orpheus

(though I agree that both love their wives immensely and would do anything to protect them)

Aster as "Epic the musical" Odysseus ? Maybe. Jay made him a bit more conventionally heroic than in the myths. Odysseus is a hardened soldier, whose body count is pretty high (especially with a whole lot of suitors and dead Trojans).

I don't want to try babying Aster, ofc, especially since he matured, but he's still softer than Odysseus.

(and thank you for making me picture Aster doxxing himself to Polyphemus 😂)

Orpheus is a way better pick, especially since Aster is a musician in your human alternative universe. And Aster seems to love music.

Plus Orpheus is the student (and sometimes son) of Apollo. Apollo is the god of many things, including music, medicine, arts and the sun*.

With Aster being a star (and befriending the sun), it's even better.

*Helios is the main sun god. It's more secondary for Apollo.

Fun fact : Orpheus' voice is stronger than the sirens'

Fun fact n°2 : his voice is so enchanting than even the wildest beasts calm down and listen to him. Heck, even the trees are charmed ! Reminds me of Aster's magic.

Though it's clear that whatever death Aster has is way happier than Orpheus'... just make sure he doesn't come across crazy women in the woods and normally he's safe 😂.

Fortunately, after Orpheus died, his soul was reunited with Eurydice's.

2. KOW!Asha as Antigone

Medea isn't that bad of an idea, honestly. But I also have another pick : Antigone.

Again, let's ignore the unhappy ending.

Antigone : she fought with her king/Uncle Creon and was deeply against injustice, though for wildly different reasons. She was so determined that she was ready to die (and did) for her values.

She was a courageous young girl.

Other potential candidates

+ The muses : goddesses of the arts, who inspired heroes. There isn't a muse of drawing, but if I had to pick one : Polymnia. She's the muse of rhetoric and poetry.

And I wouldn't really compare her to Ariadne. Though it would be neat to mention that Dionysus offers her a crown of stars as a wedding gift.

3. KOW!Magnifico as king Pygmalion or Tantalus

Thank you anon for precising "DISNEY" Hades. In the mythology, they don't match at all.

Hades is the rightful lord of the underworld (even Elysium, which is kinda like an ancient Greek heaven).

He does his job very well and never tried to kill his brothers.

Which king did Magnus resemble more ?

King Pygmalion, not to be confused with the sculptor who fell in love with his creation.

Like Magnus, he was power hungry and murdered his uncle and his sister's (Dido) husband. He then steals all their riches and Dido's forced to run away.

Ngl, I had to dig pretty deep to find this one. More well-known kings are either not evil (like Odysseus, Midas), or ambiguous (Minos, Agamemnon).

The only really "evil" kings are Cronus and Tantalus. The latter is more interesting because, according to Ovid, he murders his own son and, out of hubris, serves him as a meal to the gods in order to test their omniscience.

Greek authors find other reasons for his punishment, but he always ends up in Tartarus.

(and no, Zeus isn't an evil king 😅. He did some... more than debatable stuff, but he was worshipped as a god of justice and he is also the rightful king. So, yeah)

And Creon, who I mentioned earlier, isn't an evil king.

4. KOW!Amaya as Medea

You already mentioned her, so I'll keep it short.

Though Medea isn't as evil as Amaya, I can see the inspiration in KOW (especially in her earlier life).

Then there's what I told you earlier about the cursed necklace of Harmonia.

Also, obvious similarities: they're both powerful witches who fled their kingdoms.

(and both aren't in good terms with kids...)

And Jason abandoning her for someone else, except his new wife is actually innocent and a victim of Medea's rage. While Harmona admittedly deserved at least some punishment.

Other picks :

+ Circe : another witch who, ultimately, isn't as evil. If we count Ovid, she changed Scylla into a monster because she loved the god Glaucus (who in return loved Scylla).

If we don't, she doesn't fit as much.

+ Queen Ino : tried to kill Athamas' children after marrying him. Queen Ino's the first evil stepmother 😂. Before Lady Tremaine and the evil queen, we had Ino.

(well, the second bitter stepmother, if we count Hera. But she's not an evil queen.)

Ino also had her fair share of suffering, mainly because she took care of her nephew Dionysus. And Hera didn't like it very much.

Bonus point : Typhon and Echidna

The only thing close to an "evil couple" in Greek mythology.

They gave birth to many monsters and Typhon almost defeated the Olympians, thus taking over the Earth. But Zeus defeated him and now he's in Tartarus.

All in all

I struggled a bit, ngl. Greek mythology is fascinating to study, but because 90% of its characters are morally nuanced, it doesn't fit the Disney tone.

(That didn't stop them from making Hercules. I won't complain, since I really liked that inaccurate movie).

But here's my answer.

I reread the backstory of the villains and at the end you mentioned that Amaya is Persephone and Magnifico is Hades (from Disney). I was wondering which of the ancient Greek gods (or other characters from Greek mythology) do you associate Asha and Aster with?

So I kept looking for greek love stories with happy endings... And as ya'll can imagine that's a pointless endeavor, most are tragedies, and the few happy ones we do have don't fit with Asha and Aster.

So instead I decided to just pick greek characters that remind me of Asha and Aster, regardless of who those loved.

I'd say Asha reminds me most to Medea

Now hear me out, I know what you're thinking (If you're familiar with her myth)

"But Anny! Medea killed people!"

Yeah yeah I know, that's not what gives me Asha vibes in her, quick summary for those who don't know:

Medea was a princess, that fell in love with a "hero" named Jason

(She only fell in love with him because Hera made her fall in love with him, so she would help him survive the many trials her father was putting him through, Jason was like Hera's champion, that's why she gave him this lil intervention)

So Jason took Medea home with him, after she literally saved his life, and they had two kids together. But later, Jason decided he wanted to marry another princess, like, one still in power instead of Medea that was a run away princess.

Medea obviously got furious that her husband would marry someone else just for the perks. But she didn't just sit down and took it like many other maidens in greek mythology would, nuh-uh, she started plotting her revenge.

She elaborated a plan to kill both their kids and Jason's new girlfriend, through clever scheming and also potions- because did I mention she makes potions? Yeah turns out Medea was also a big inspiration for me when writing Amaya, she's kinda my favorite girl in greek mythology.

So WHY does she reminds me of Asha? Well simple, Asha stood up against injustice and did everything she possibly could to outwit the villains and had plenty of moments where her quick thinking saved her by a hair (Flashback to the climax of Kingdom of Wishes). Asha plans things out and speaks her mind, she and Medea are both strong, not physically, but in their wit.

I guess I could also compare her to Ariadne since she was also clever by helping Theseus escape the minotaur labyrinth, buuuuut Ariadne isn't as cool as Medea, like come on, at the end of the classical stage play she RIDES HELIOS FLYING CHARIOT LIKE A FREAKIN GODDESS JUST TO TAUNT JASON!!! SAYING SHE TOOK EVERYTHING FROM HIM!!! THEN SHE PROPHESIZES HE'LL DIE ALONE!!!! AND THAT THE GODS ARE ON HER SIDE!!! BECAUSE HES A LYING LIL OATH BREAKER!!!

Anyway, it gives me the vibes of Asha flying on her hand drawn flying carpet to defeat Magnifico and Amaya, and then saying "No one believes your lies anymore" while they're being turned into stone, she's just a badass like that.

As for Aster, maybe it's the Epic: The Musical fan in me talking, but eh, Odyseus.

Simply because I can totally see Aster going through hell and back to find Asha, the same way Odyseus did for Penelope, and also because I can see him being dumb enough to give his full name and address to a cyclops he just blinded. But as more and more shenanigans happen (And by that I mean most of his army freaking dying) he becomes more willing to be more ruthless for the sake of his men that are left and so they can go back home, similar to how Aster matured and even got a lil sadistic in the end there when he decided to turn the villains into stone.

Alternatively, I could also let the Hadestown fan in me win and say he reminds me of Orpheus, but that makes me too sad, considering what happens to Orpheus and Eurydice in the end. Let's say if you cut Orpheus turning to look back, yeah that relationship is very Aster and Asha vibes.

@superkooku you like greek mythology right? Do you have other ideas?

[bigidiotenergy]

ur honors i love them actually (ft @gigizetz's ody and @ximena_natzel's hermes)

[a-d-nox]

Hello👋 can you talk about asteroid Circe in Capricorn conjunct midheaven?? Thx

hi - please, everyone, the more details the better. the house that it aspects from could help with interpretation.

circe capricorn: you may take your presence in the world a bit too seriously - not everyone is supposed to become a god, queen, or famous in a lifetime. you’d be best served taking some of the expectations and responsibilities off of yourself. you will find that life gets better when you aren’t anxious to be perfect. you may even find that success comes more readily then. that being said you are likely a great presence to behold. you like circe may be pretty intimidating due to your power.

circe-mc: positive aspects: you could have a reputation that emphasizes your strength, power, and mysticism. you may find jobs that rely on manipulation to be perfect for you (law, sales, politics, tv personality, healthcare professions, teaching, etc.). you are likely leader material - people look to you to tell them what needs to be done and how to do it. negative aspects: you may struggle with keeping long term goals because those around around you are constantly testing your ability to adapt to sudden and extreme changes. your reputation may consist only of the terrible things you do (some people remember circe was the witch who turned odysseus’s men into pigs than manipulated their son into killing him). you may be frequently stepped on or used by the masculine energy around you: a boss who steals your work, a co-worker who is trying to be seen over you, a lover who has no intentions of being loyal or staying long-term, etc.

hope this helps.

a.d.

click here for the masterlist

click here for more greek myths & legends regarding primordials, titans, gods, goddesses, and muses

click here for more greek myths & legends regarding heroes, kings, queens, creatures, and creations

© a-d-nox 2022 all rights reserved

[darabeatha]

                # DARABEATHA  ― 𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘   Independent  &  selective  𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄  only  feat.  𝐅𝐆𝐎  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒  Written  by  Smol  (+18;she/her).  For  my  own  comfort,  please  do  not follow  if  you  are  under  18.  Rules under  read  more  !   /   Important ! : my portrayal will be based on my muses set as summonable servants (set on FGO)  + bits of historical facts + my character’s original source; in regards to their fate interpretations, some might differ from what is established in canon   /   Rules and muses under read more !   / chibi commissions post

LIST OF MUSES : 

Primary : Constantine XI (rider) / about ; Ashwatthama (archer) ; Vlad III (slighty canon div) ; Jason (saber) ; Camazotz (temp. assassin) ; Odysseus (rider) ; Daybit (crypter) ; Tezcatlipoca (grand assassin) ; Charlemagne (saber) Moctezuma II (Avenger) ; Duryodhana (rider) ; Ritsuka Fujimaru (master) ; kukulkan (-) ; tlaloc (pretender) ; Nitocris (caster) ; Moriarty (ruler) ; Nero Claudius (saber) ; Asclepius (caster) ; Antonio Salieri (Avenger) ; Morgan le Fay (Berserker) ; Baobhan Sith (Archer) ; Barghest (saber) ; Oberon (pretender) ; L.ucifer (?) ; M.ichael (?) ; Edmond Dantes (Avenger) ; Arjuna (Archer) ;

Secondary: Ritsuka Fujimaru ( based on R.itsuka F.ujimaru Doesn’t get it ) ; Hakuno Kishinami (fate/extra CCC) ; billy the kid (archer) ; Sherlock Holmes (Ruler) ; Diarmuid (lancer) ; EMIYA (archer) ; Mandricardo (rider) ; Prometheus (tbt ) ; Hermes (tbt) ; caeneus ( lancer ) ; Medb ( Rider) ; Dumuzid (?) ; Tristan (archer)

note: muses who have their own blogs/used to write but could make an appearance in here if im too tired to switch blogs/ or upon request: gilgamesh (caster & Archer) Nero Claudius (saber) nitocris (caster), arash (Archer) Mandricardo (rider), Edmond Dantes (avenger), Sherlock Holmes (ruler), Achilles (rider), Robin Hood (Archer) , Billy the kid (Archer) , Lancelot (saber), Ishtar (Archer), Ereshkigal (lancer), Francis Drake (rider), Blackbeard (canon divergent + rider) + saito hajime (saber), dioscuri (castor rider)

SELECTIVE & MUTUALS only.

this is a TEST blog, meaning that I am currently testing this muse

VERY HIGHLY SPORADIC ACTIVITY. My attention wanders all over the place so this blog will remain as low acitvity, If this isn´t ur cup of tea then I would advice to consider again following.

I am not an expert historian so I (politely) ask u to pls understand if in any case I happen to make a mistake, it´s due to that (*꒦ິㅂ꒦ີ)

mun & muse are both +18 (mun is 21 currently!)

Not affiliated with the Fate fandom.

Duplicates & crossover friendly !!

If you are not aware of F.ate as a franchise or the game F.go pls do not feel scared of interacting! there is no need to have prior knowledge about the universe where my muse comes from and if you have any questions i’m always happy to answer !

Alongside this post, please do not assume or dictate me how to write my own muse, this has happened before and it makes me very uncomfortable (*꒦ິㅂ꒦ີ)

Due to his character, this blog will remain as Fewship & very HIGHLY selective. I´m more inclined to ship with friends / people i know / people I can click OOC wise more, yet if you are interested in developing something between our muses, be it platonic or romantic, I am certainly not against that if the chemistry is present ! Aside this, i will not ship with underaged muses nor with underaged muns.

muse does not equal mun & I do not condone my muse´s actions.

And that´s it! apologies if any of these sounded harsh, let´s just respecc each other and have fun! thank u for dropping by!

❝ ― ❞ "ㅤ"

[madrone33]

Ok so. I have no excuse for taking so long. But! The good news is I FINALLY hunkered down and finished the Odyssey in one night :D

It was long! And fun! It was much more political scheming than I thought it'd be lol

Anyway here's some highlights and musings from my midnight readings, much longer than my others 'cause it's like 12 books at once:

The Phaeacians after reaching Ithaca and neatly dropping both a sleeping Odysseus and his vast loot on the sand: peace out, bro.

Aww man why'd you have to do the Phaeacians like that, Poseidon?

Odysseus, hearing that he's FINALLY made it home, tears in his eyes: proceeds to elaborately lie.

Odysseus: has trust issues from trauma.

Athena: awww, see this is why I like you!

Odysseus, hearing his son is in Sparta: you let my son sail? over the sea that took 10 years of my life??

Odysseus, professional liar, hearing that people lied to his wife about him: liars? I HATE liars >:( I would never lie.

Also Odysseus: lies about his life story again, multiple times.

LMAO Athena tells Telemachus he's gotta go, and he immediately kicks Pisistratus in the ribs to wake him up XD

Telemachus: hey so can I maybe not say hi to your dad again? He's like those old grandparents who never let you go without telling a thousand stories.

Pisistratus, after thinking for one second: I gotchu homie.

Odysseus might be projecting juuust a little when Eumaeus greets Telemachus

Athena makes Odysseus taller, again XD

FATHER AND SON REUNION!!

Tele: uh dad? Surely you're not suggesting we fight 108 men on our own?? Please tell me we have backup.

Ody: how's Athena and Zeus sound as backup?

Tele: ... yeah ok fine.

No!! Argos :(

Lol. Odysseus and Athena both: test the suitors to find the innocent from guilty! (Inwardly: yeah they're all gonna die)

Telemachus when Eumaeus insults Antinous to defend Ody: whoa whoa. No need to speak to Antinous like that, my friend... Allow me >:D

Antinous: throws a stool at Odysseus.

Odysseus, Telemachus, and Penelope: so you have chosen death

Lol the sneeze :D

Ah yes, Homer can't help but mention Odysseus' fine thighs XD

Odysseus, deeply torn between flat out killing this guy with one blow or just "lightly jabbing" him uncontiously. Decisions, decisions...

Odysseus @ Amphinomus: hey. You seem nice. Don't come to school tomorrow

Athena just loves making her mortals taller and more beautiful, huh XD

Penelope after Athena made her take a nap: ah, what a gentle sleep. If only Artemis would kill me :D

Penelope, Telemachus, and basically all of the palace staff at any and all opportunities: mayhaps? death? to all the suitors? 👀

Awww, Odysseus told her to watch over his parents, and that she should re-marry if he wasn't back before Telemachus became an adult 🥺

Penelope, swindling the suitors out of their money: shame on you, for not lavishing me with gifts to seduce me!

Odysseus: hell yes that's my wife <3

A second stool has been thrown. This one was dodged. RIP the wine-steward

Odysseus really can't help showering Penelope with compliments, comparing her to the gods, and a king

Poor Penelope :( Let her not-make her shroud in peace

Wine dark sea mention :D

Odysseus, once again lying about his life story, this time to his WIFE. Smh

Penelope calling the city of Troy "Destroy" with such spite is amazing.

Penelope and Euryclea: stranger, you remind me so much of Odysseus. You're just... really alike for some reason.

Odysseus: haha yeah weird coincidence, right?

Autolycus: ah yes, I shall name my grandson "he who causes pain" ✨

Penelope @ the man that is totally not Odysseus: hey, unrelated to anything at all, I had a dream where my husband returned and killed all my suitors. How WEIRD, right? If ONLY it would come true!

"Nobody but your cunning pulled you through the monster's cave you thought would be your death." Nobody. Ha!

"deep in his heart it seemed she stood beside him, knew him, now, at last..." 🥺💙

Now an oxhoof has been thrown at him?? Athena, why

Wow, Telemachus is almost as good a liar as his dad!

Ooh Telemachus almost strung it!!

Odysseus has the bow. Ayyyy you're all fucked now >:D

LMAO did Athena just fly up into the rafters while still looking like Mentor? XD

Odysseus: I'm cleaning house

He's playing a wedding song! As Odysseus and Penelope reunite!! <3

Athena made him taller again XD

Strange woman! Strange man! 🥰

Odysseus: exCUSE ME? You moved our BED? How did you move our bed?? It's a TREE for gods sake! I carved it with my own two hands! What did you DO to our BED-

ATHENA! HOLDS BACK THE LITERAL DAWN!! She's their #1 shipper fr <3

Brief interlude in the Underworld: Achilles' and Patroclus' bones are in the same urn... and they were urn-mates

Amphimedon: and that's how Odysseus killed me-

Agamemnon: Ah classic Odysseus. And what a great wife he has! So loyal. Unlike MY WIFE-

Odysseus, torn between revealing himself and happily reuniting with his aged father, or testing whether he recognises him: time to lie about my life story again!

Not every one of Odysseus' family at some point wondering if he was just a dream 🥺😭

His fake name is "Man of Strife" this time. I see you, Odysseus...

Odysseus for the first time drops the act in favour of comforting a crying family member. Character development /j

There Athena goes again, this time making Laertes taller XD

Lol, Athena stepping in (STILL looking like Mentor XD) to force a peace. Didn't realise it ended on this note, but cool

I finally started reading the Odyssey!!

Got up to book 5. And I mean, I've seen the jokes, but I never realised just how many times it says some variation of "rosy fingered dawn." 😂

Also, Athena pretending to be a mortal and then leaving by just- becoming a bird and flying away will never not be funny.

Looking forward to finally getting to Odysseus' part :D

[abyssmalice]

(for the maybe-never-day i ever write a skirk muse loooooool)

has a weird duality of being loud and not-loud??

like, normally, she speaks quietly and is very philosophical 

her facial expression doesn’t change a lot either - it’s not like she’s blank-faced, but it’s hard to read what she’s thinking and feeling based on her expression. and that expression only barely changes every now and then, like small twitches of an eyebrow or a brief quirk of her lips.

but then u put her in front of a monster and she becomes some bright-eyed grinning maniac. she finds a great thrill in testing and sharpening herself against others, be it creature or human

very blunt outside of her impromptu philosophy lessons

always calls childe “kiddo”. always. whether he’s an actual kiddo or an adulte

childe is probably the most entertaining little beanstalk she’s seen in god knows how long. she finds him funny in the same way my sibling did when i was nine and thought you finished school after fourth grade. aka cutely stupid and he had to grow on her tbh 

like she originally took him on bc im too much of a softie and hc that skirk is a nice-ish person deep deeeeeep down so she just didn’t want to abandon another weak child to the abyss

just wanted to teach him to stop holding his damn sword wrong and somehow she ended up with adoption papers? 

she doesn’t really want to adopt him, but he does make for a funny sentient pet at least?

oh yeah writing this up reminded me of a fic draft i accidentally deleted where she used to be friends with the in-universe ajax that childe got his name from. i had some wild ass worldbuilding/headcanons for that draft lol

EDIT: WAIT I THINK I REMEMBER THE PREMISE FOR THE FIC? I THINK? uhhhh something about in-universe ajax the great having a feud with uhhhhhhh odysseus? agamemnon?? I THINK IT WAS ONE OF THE TWO and something something khaenriah

and oh yeah she’s a chronic smoker.

[phykios]

the marble king, part 4 [read on ao3]

Athens, 1453

Catching a current to Thera had been a simple task. Well, there had been parts to the journey somewhat more complex than he had let on to his traveling companion, but the steps taken had, all told, been rather simple for a son of the sea god. Following the currents was a matter of instinct, and in the water, he could forget mortal afflictions such as hunger or exhaustion.

Annabeth did not have the same freedoms, of course, and while Percy could extend his gifts to her for some time, he simply was not strong enough to sustain it for the entirety of the journey to Athens. Travelling by boat was somewhat riskier, as there were the Ottomans and the Venetians to avoid, not to mention all the other Latins and Franks and gods-only-knew-who-else who sought to steal some of Hellas ’ glory for themselves, but Percy was confident that he could steer a ship out of danger with far less effort than he could carry Annabeth under the sea.

“It will draw less attention to ourselves,” he had reminded her, “if we are merely one of a thousand mortals making pilgrimage to Athens.” Convinced, unhappily, she agreed.

It had been a long, quiet, terse five days, and not only because she would often refuse to speak to him.

The two of them had traveled these waters together once before, searching for a certain magical sheepskin, but Percy could never recall them being so empty. In his memory, sea monsters lurked beneath every wave, while other horrors plucked straight from the mouths of the poets and muses made their homes on every spit of land, no matter how small. But the monsters and the madness that had haunted heroes such as Jason, Odysseus, Aeneas, and all the others, appeared to have simply vanished into the mist. Even the waves themselves were unusually pacified, allowing them to pass without too much trouble.

It all made for quite the unsettling picture. It was, at once, both empty and not empty; he felt as though they were standing upon the shore as the water was pulled out to the sea, in preparation for the monstrous tsunami which would follow. If a man were able to live in that moment, the calm before the storm, the precipice before the cliff, the sharply receding tide before the flood, then he would know how the sea felt to Percy in this moment.

“Look, Annabeth,” he said, in an attempt to cajole her into conversation. “There, to the West--we are coming up on Delos.”

She did not respond.

“Do you not remember? Apollo’s lions burst forth from the stone and nearly ate us for trespassing.”

All quiet. When he looked to her, she had her head tipped back against the wood of the ship, eyes closed, hands fiddling with the frayed edge of her shawl, a thin, faded grey strip of fabric. She must have woven it herself; he thought he recognized her patterns as they shifted in the bright sunlight, but they had grown distorted by time, the threads stained with brown, dry blood.

With a sigh, he turned back to the sail, adjusting it, the scrape of rope soothing to his ears. The sea was never meant to be so silent, yet as the presence of the gods had fled the last standing city of their once great empire, as his father’s palace now sat cold and empty at the bottom of the sea, so too had the sea seemed to have lost all its magic.

No, not all of it, he thought. Was he himself not living proof that magic still lived in this land? He could yet still breathe underwater, could still command his boat and navigate the seas with more skill than the most experienced captain. There had been the terrible moment, a painful and fleeting thing, in the heartbeats between leaping into the sea with his arms around Annabeth and hitting the water, where he wondered if, rather than securing their escape, he had led them to their deaths instead, that he had lost the powers Annabeth had accused him of relying on too strongly.

But of course, they had not. Percy was of the sea, the ancient salt and spray his blood and his breath, and the power of Poseidon would remain within him always, even if the god himself did not.

In silence, they made their way then to Piraeus. As Percy had predicted, they blended in quite well with their fellow pilgrims, and if any person thought it odd that their vessel was only crewed by two, they did not mention it. At the very least, they were spared from walking in the hot sun, as Percy managed to scrounge up a few coins from the meager money Annabeth had found to rent them passage on a horse cart which traveled into the city. Still tired from the long journey, she lay her head on his shoulder, their backs pressed against the wooden cart.

Percy had never seen Athens before. He had seen the painting, which hung in Annabeth’s and her siblings’ villa, and he had heard her speak of it, many many times. Based on how often she spoke of it, he felt as though he had been there a thousand times before, had seen its winding streets and mighty marble monuments. By the gods, they had been tasked with crafting little miniatures of the Parthenon as a way of testing their fine motor movements. The way she talked, the things she built, surely she must have seen it for herself. “Bet you’re glad to be back,” he said, not really expecting an answer. “I’ve never been to Athens before.”

“Neither have I,” she mumbled.

He turned to look at her, shocked. “You haven’t?”

“Never had the chance.”

“But--I thought--the way you speak of it--”

“I’ve always wanted to see it, of course,” she said. Annabeth kept her eyes on her hands, playing with the increasingly fraying ends of her shawl. “All children of Athena do. But I have studied the temple more keenly than anyone I know. I know everything there is to know about the Acropolis. Every temple, every column, every brick was placed with the finest care and the foremost precision.” She smiled then, a small, creeping thing, and it seemed to lighten her whole face. “I cannot wait to see it.”

Like this, so soft in the face, almost dreamy, she was honestly quite pretty, he thought to himself. “Tell me about it,” he asked, as soft as a puff of wind, as though he had never heard her speak of it before.

Her shawl dropped to her lap. “We begin at the propylea,” she said, tracing the outline with her fingers, “the great winding road up the Western side of the mountain. Immediately to your right, there is the temple of Athena Nike, then once you enter beneath the great archway…” She sighed, almost ardent. “There, you would see it: the statue of Athena, and behind her, the Parthenon. The columns are of the Doric order, and thus unadorned at their top by any sort of frivolous curls or curves. Above them sit the metopes, which ring the whole building, and each marble frieze tells of a great epic; the Titanomachy, the Amazonomachy, the Trojan war. And the colors,” her face broke out into a true smile, and her eyes crinkled at the corners, shining and silver. “Such beautiful colors, red and gold and green. Oh, and the pediments! We must not forget the pediments.”

“The pediments?” He frowned. “I do not know that word.”

“It refers to the triangular space between the portico and the roof. Do you not remember the door of the Big House?”

Yes, he recalled now, though he didn’t see what all the fuss was over the empty space was. “Are the pediments truly so important?”

“These ones are,” she said, “for the western pediment depicts the story of our parents.”

“Ah.”

Now this was a story which she loved to hold over him, retelling every chance she could, to make sure that he never forgot which of their divine parents were revered by the city of Athens.

“It is beautiful, Perseus, you shall see,” she said, with a teasing grin. “It is said that the bodies and the horses are rendered so perfectly, I cannot imagine that you will not be able to see the look on your father’s face as he realizes he has lost the contest for Athens.”

“Yes, well,” he harrumphed. “It had better be worth it, then.”

“It will be,” she assured him. “Once we round the Areopagus , you will be able to see the propylea above the mountain, and the perfect point of the Parthenon above that.”

When they approached the Areopagus proper, some hour or so later, she actually leaned forward, going up on her knees to better see the view from their cart.

“Here it is,” she said. Her whole body quivered, as tense as a bow on a string. “Here it is.”

He smiled at her excitement, as though she were a child.

Almost immediately, he noticed something was wrong. Her shoulders were tight, raised up to her ears as she went deathly still. “Annabeth?” She did not answer him. “Annabeth?”

Joining her at the lip of the cart, he looked up at the Acropolis.

He frowned. “What are those walls?”

The many, many times she had described the Acropolis to him, she had never once mentioned the stone walls. Brown and grey, they rose up out of the sheer cliffside, notched indentations in the top like teeth, as though they were devouring the cliff-face whole. On the northern and southern ends, two large towers lorded over the rest.

Too enthralled in the stone walls, he did not notice as their cart traveled onward in the shadow of the cliff. “Where are we going?” he asked, looking towards the horse at the front of the cart. “Was that not the propylea ?”

It was only then that he saw Annabeth. Pale as a ghost, she was, her knuckles white from gripping the edge of the wood, and her face was set in a terrible grimace. Her eyes bulged out as though she saw a monster, her chin trembling as she opened her mouth and gasped out, “Those are not supposed to be there.”

“What isn’t?”

“The walls.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. He always knew her to be solid, immovable, strong as a statue, but now she looked as though she could be brought low by a mere puff of wind.

“Perhaps they are new,” he offered.

But she fell silent again, glaring at the cliffside as they passed. Her hands, now resting in her lap, clenched and unclenched over and over again, twitching in the manner that suggested she was about to draw her knife, though what target had drawn her ire he could only guess--presumably, she dreamt of stabbing the fool who had chosen to add walls to the Acropolis. Her jaw was hard, set so firmly he thought he could hear her grinding her teeth behind her lips. Antagonistic as they were, he had been on the receiving end of that glare more times than he cared to remember, and he was again glad that they had chosen to set aside their rivalry for now. Eventually, the driver let them off on the eastern side of the mountain. For a moment, he made to help her down from the cart, as he had been taught, but looking at her face, he decided not to risk the insult, allowing her to scramble down to the ground by herself, and side-by-side, they made the long trek to the Acropolis, just another two pilgrims on the final leg of their journey.

Unfortunately, their troubles were merely beginning.

Cresting the hill, the midafternoon sun beating down on them, Annabeth stiffened against him, so severely he thought she might faint. “What,” she hissed, “is that monstrosity ?”

He blinked, squinting through the bright light, though he did not see anything so obviously offensive to the senses--but then, he did not know the field of architecture nearly as well as she did. “What is it?”

“That!”

On top of the building immediately before them rose a bell tower, a cross sitting proudly above it. Surely she could not be referring to that, as the streets of Constantinople had been practically littered with bell towers and crosses. One would be hard pressed to find a corner which did not have a church with its own bell and steeple. “The tower?”

“No, the columns,” she scoffed. “Of course the malakes tower! What is it doing on top of the Parthenon?”

“Annabeth,” he said slowly. “It is a bell tower. Surely, you know what a bell tower is.”

She flushed. “Yes, I know what a bell tower is, phykios , but what I do not know is which imbecile thought to put one up on top of the Parthenon!” She pointed, glaring at it. “It is not even symmetrical!”

He tilted his head, looking. She was right; it did seem oddly placed, given what he had heard of the temple, far back and to the left.

“This is all wrong,” she fretted, worrying her lip between her teeth. “This is--this is wrong. We are supposed to enter through the propylea from the West, into the Precinct of Artemis Brauronia, then pass the Athena Promachos on the northern edge , and--and the pediment--”

Oh dear. She was shaking, now, a leaf on the wind. It was a risky move, to be sure, but he rested a hand on her shoulder, squeezing. She trembled so violently, he thought he could feel it in his bones. “Here,” he said, “let us go inside. We can sit down, catch our breath.”

The fact that she did not refuse him was more concerning than if she had turned around and stabbed him.

Walking into the--the church, he supposed it was, he too felt a little uneasy. The western pediment, the one she had spoken so highly of, the one which was supposed to portray the origins of their ancient feud, a good third of it was missing, plucked straight from the middle of the frieze, the faded pale statues headless, like corpses in the grip of death.

Percy had seen many churches before. Few could compare to St. Sophia, but in essence, all churches looked somewhat the same. He did not have the fancy words for it, not like Annabeth, but he could recognize their shared features should he see them. This was…

He did not know what to think of it, truly.

He supposed that St. Sophia had spoiled him, all that light streaming in through the dome of the roof. The churches of Constantinople were not places which he frequented, but he found himself in St. Sophia for pagan-related duties more frequently than he cared to be, and had become used to that kind of space, so open and airy. By contrast, here the ceiling was flat, dark, nearly oppressive. Rich frescoes and golden mosaics surrounded them, their strange, frightening faces staring down at them, in cold, apathetic judgement. Pilgrims streamed in through the narrow entrance, pressed so close together that Annabeth was forced to grab onto his arm for fear of being separated. Still she shook, shivering as though she were feverish, and before he could think better of it, he placed an arm around her shoulder, drawing her off to the side, away from the large crush of people. Gently steering her, he brought them to the back left corner of the main gallery, and dropped to his knees in order to better blend in with the crowds, pleased when she took his lead without any further prompting.

“This is all wrong,” she whispered. “This is so wrong.”

He squeezed her shoulder, placing his head against hers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Those walls,” her breath hitched, “those hideous, ugly walls--”

“I know,” he said, “I know.”

“I--I didn’t think that--I never thought that, that it might have changed. That it might be different.” She turned to him, eyes wild. “I never--the Parthenon, it’s… you do not understand, the Parthenon is perfect. It is the most perfect piece of architecture ever conceived, ever planned, ever built. The architects, their understanding of mathematics is unparalleled, even to this day. It is perfect .”

He did understand, but now was not the time to point that out. Now was simply the time to listen.

“All children of Athena, we can only dream of creating something even half as beautiful. The Parthenon isn’t supposed to change, it is supposed to endure. Survive.” She swallowed, eyes blinking back furious tears. “Look at what they have done to her altar. Her temple.” Turning from him, her hand swiped at her face, and he looked away. “And these horrible, horrible bodies,” she hissed, after a moment. “The statues of the Parthenon are meant to embody the perfection of the human form. What man do you know looks like that?”

Towards the end of the room was the greatest offence yet. As with all churches, this one too had a portrait of the moment of death of their trinity god, his arms fastened to a wooden cross, his head hung in shame and despair. At his feet, a woman wrapped in blue looked on him in painful grief, her hands outstretched as though she could catch the frozen stream of glittering red which poured from a black mark in his side, their features flattened and reconstituted with different colored stones, thick lines criss crossing their bodies.

She shook her head, disbelieving. “My mother would never have let this insult go unpunished. She must still be here. She has to be.”

Now her tears had dried, and her mouth was set in a thin, grim line, stubborn and serious. No longer did she shake apart on the cold, stone floor, but was still, poised, gathering energy about her as she waited for the proper moment to strike. Oh, he did not have the heart to attempt to convince her out of her plan.

“Stay here. I will see if I can find a way to speak to her.” And so she left him there in the gallery of the church, off to seek some quiet corner.

Unfortunately, she had not specified for how long she would be gone. And truthfully, she should have known better--they were all saddled with the half-blood’s curse, the plight of wandering attention and nervous energy. To order Percy to stay put was simply a folly. He vowed that he would not leave the Acropolis, for it simply was not that big, and they were sure to find each other easily, but he could not be blamed for indulging this small bout of an itinerant spirit.

Walking out of the church, before he could exit entirely, something gold caught his eye, and he looked up. Almost directly above the entrance was a raised part of the roof, reminiscent of the dome with which he was most familiar, but instead of sunlight, the dome was lined with gold and pearl and lapis lazuli in what even he had to admit was a stunning mosaic. The same woman was depicted here, in the same stunning blue robe, though she looked down on them not in grief, but in deep, pensive thought. No, not pensive, he amended--calculating. With her straight nose and keen eyes, she seemed to stare deep into his very heart and soul, considering all the contents she found there, and he was unsure whether or not she found him wanting.

Perhaps it was merely because he had been thinking of her so often these last few days, but for some strange reason, the woman in the mosaic reminded him of Annabeth. He had seen that piercing gaze on her face many times, one that she shared with all of her siblings. It was a trait inherited directly from their shared mother, the one they wore when they were crafting the very finest of their battle strategies.

Unnerved, he continued on, stepping out of the church into its looming shadow.

In front of him rose another one of Annabeth’s hated towers, round in the way he had come to expect from fortified walls, with soldiers eyeing the pilgrims warily from their positions at the top, though he doubted these men had seen much in the way of fighting. Although, who was he to tell. He had thought, once upon a time, that churches were meant to be sacred spaces to men of god, places where no blood could be shed, nor hateful action be taken. Of course, he knew better now.

Wandering round the Acropolis did little to ease his strange mood. It could not have been a more different experience than exploring his father’s palace beneath the sea; rising high above the city, rather than submerged beneath the depths, where one was empty, ruined and rotting, the other was full, crowded with masses of travelers and worshippers, its fortifications kept seemingly well. And yet, as he walked, still he sensed that strange emptiness that he had felt down below. The people who surrounded him may as well have been ghosts for all that he could know them.

Unbidden, his footsteps brought him past a collection of red roofed houses, squat and low, then round to a strangely shaped building on the northern side of the Acropolis. He frowned, walking down the slim stone steps, taking in the columns whose spaces had been filled with grey stone.

He had not lied to Annabeth when he said he had never been to Athens before, and he surely did not have her thorough knowledge of the ancient buildings which decorated it, but he knew, deep in his bones, that what he was looking at here was wrong. Beyond the ugly stone, it came too far forward, as though it were a living, breathing creature, swallowing the ancient marble over the course of a thousand years. Tilting his head, he tried to put it from his mind as he considered the four pillars which stood before him.

There was something behind those walls, he knew, though he did not know how, something which called to him, deep in his soul. If he closed his eyes, he thought that he could smell seawater, imagined that he could hear the gurgling of a spring, deep beneath the foundations of the earth, pouring forth as though it were a beating heart.

“Percy.”

He blinked.

Annabeth stood before him, scowling. “Did I not say to stay where you were?”

The sun laid low on the horizon, casting long shadows over him, though he could not have been standing here for more than a few minutes. “I… I apologize,” he said. His thoughts were fuzzy, as though he were emerging from an unintended nap. “I did not realize how long it had been. Did you find what you were seeking?”

Her scowl deepened further, before dropping, as though it were a mask, leaving nothing but weariness behind. “No,” she said, her gaze dropping to the ground. “My mother would not come.”

“Perhaps we can find a market,” he suggested, though he knew it would be a fruitless gesture, “and procure a sacrifice. Maybe that would entice her to appear.”

But she shook her head, her lips pulled into a frown. “That would not be wise. I fear that if she allowed the desecration of her temple in this way without repercussion, there is very little that would call her down from Olympus.” She turned to join him, then, standing shoulder to shoulder as she, too, beheld the strange facade.

“Tell me about this place,” he requested. Speaking at length on architecture was, after all, one of her favorite pastimes, and he did so hate to see that sorrowful look on her face. “I feel as if I… know it, somehow.”

“I am not surprised,” she said. “This is--was--is the Erechtheion, the temple dedicated to both of our divine parents.”

“I see,” he teased, hoping to make her smile. “And you said that the Athenians did not like my father.”

Gods be praised, it worked. Trembling, as though she were fighting it, a smile did raise the corners of her mouth. “I said nothing of the sort, merely that the early Athenians vastly preferred my mother.”

“And yet, here lies a temple to his glory.”

She lightly smacked him. “There were shrines to the other gods as well, phykios .”

“You cannot take this from me, skjaldmær. I shall go round proclaiming its glory to all who would listen to the tale of Poseidon and his Athenian temple.”

“Oh, hush.” But she was grinning now, and his heart rose at the sight.

They stood there for some time, as the sun continued to set over the complex, the shadows of the towers lengthening with every minute. The longer they stood, the more the question nagged at him, filling him with a desire and a longing that he had not known for some time, a yearning which reached beyond his skin and bones deep into the core of him. “Why do I know this place?” he asked her.

Equally spellbound, she answered, “Legend held that this is where our parents’ great rivalry began. They say that beneath the Erechtheion lies the three marks of the sea god’s trident, under the branches of the very first olive tree.”

“Here, you say?” How extraordinary. Here was the spot which would come to define their antagonism, a mighty tree the seeds of which were planted thousands of years ago, far beyond the memory of any living man, recorded in stone and letter. Here they were, two souls adrift in the uncaring winds of time, and yet, together, they had come full circle, to the place where it all began. Who of the ancient Athenians could have guessed, all those generations ago, that their choice of patron would shape the course of history, as a river through a valley? Who among them would have known how their decision would take root throughout the years, until it blossomed within Percy and Annabeth, children who, despite following the same gods, would have been as total strangers to them? The thought filled him with an emotion he could not quite name, only that he knew he was glad for her presence.

“Thank you,” she murmured, as quiet as a breath, “for looking after me. I am sorry to have dragged you here on nothing but a whim and a wish.”

Acting on some instinct he did not know he possessed, he reached down, and took her hand. It was warm in his, her heart beating strongly through the tips of her fingers. “Think nothing of it. We two must stay together, should we not?”

“We should indeed.”

She looked on him without any distaste or annoyance for what must have been the first time in a very long time, and it sent a warm thrill through him, as though the shadows around them had receded, bathing the two of them in sunlight. “I have been thinking,” he said, inspired by this place and this time and the thought of their legacy. “If indeed, the gods that we know and worship have truly… have truly gone,” and his voice grew thick at the thought. He cleared his throat, and was grateful she did not comment on it. “Then we should continue to travel together. This truce that we have struck, it has proven beneficial in more ways than I could have predicted, and if we are to survive whatever comes next, I have a feeling that we should stay together. If you agree, Annabeth, let us, here and now, tie off these threads of our history, as one would to a tapestry. Let us end this rivalry of ours.”

She looked at him, a cascade of feelings crossing her face, too quick for him to name, until she settled on something which he would define as apprehension, perhaps. Gazing into his eyes, she searched for some hint that he would betray her, he supposed, though he could not blame her for it. His proposal was a novel one, and bold as well. Should her mother get word of this agreement, Annabeth could find herself in deep trouble, as Athena’s hatred of Percy himself was no secret.

This close, the setting sun seemed to reflect in her eyes, transforming them from steel to silver, a kaleidoscope of glittering stars. This close, he realized he could trace the flush on her cheeks as it traveled towards the crooked bridge of her nose, and he saw that there were freckles there, beneath the tanned skin.

“A plan worthy of Athena,” she said after some consideration. “I agree to your terms.”

And thus, it was ended.

“To think,” he murmured, “that such a legendary rivalry could have been resolved so easily.”

“It is strange,” she admitted, “that along with my mother and our ancestral home, I have lost this as well.” And she looked out over the city, despondent.

He frowned, as he did not think of their antagonism as something to lose; rather, he felt as though the ancient fields had been overturned, the old soil furrowed, giving way to new and fertile ground, full of endless possibility.

“Well,” he said, hoping to put a smile back on her face, "my first act, in the shedding of our rivalry, is to pledge myself to our future empress, Ana Zabeta Palaiologina." Then, in a fit of insanity, he raised her hand to his lips, and laid a kiss there.

She did not smile at him; rather, she rolled her eyes, pulling her hand from his grasp, and wiping it on the front of her dress.

“Where to then, your majesty? The Morea?”

“Enough,” she said. “I had given up that plan some time ago.”

“Oh?”

“As you and I have both noted, the despotes will not give us the army that we seek, nor the Legion, nor any of the rulers of this Christendom. I fear,” she sighed, biting her lip, “I fear that Constantinople is lost to us forever.” She looked to him again, clear eyes shining. “We have lost, Perseus. The gods have gone, the empire has fallen, and we have lost.”

And that, he supposed, was that. The reign of the Olympians was ended. They were well and truly alone.

But, he thought, at least they were together.

“What now?” Endless possibility, he thought. How frightening. “Do we look for the agoge ?”

“I do not see how we can,” she admitted. “Chiron could be anywhere, and I have not the faintest idea of where to begin.”

Neither, unfortunately, did he. They could have been anywhere in the world, but the world was a vast, vast place. “Let us find some place to rest. Tomorrow, we can decide what to do, but tonight, we have earned our respite.”

Their business thus concluded, they wound their way down the cliff, to the city below, in search of some place to rest their heads.

It was not terribly difficult for them to find an inn. Claiming tiredness, Annabeth bade him to go and get them something to eat. “Anything in particular?” he asked.

“Something cheap,” was her perfunctory response. Collapsing onto their shared bed, which was, unfortunately, the only one which had been available in that particular establishment, she turned away from him, curling into herself, and sensing the dismissal for what it was, he left her to it, setting out for food.

Immediately, he wished he had been able to entice her to come with him.

Athens in the evening was quite beautiful. The air had cooled considerably, the low light casting the homes and streets in shades of red and pink and gold. It was smaller than he had expected the great city to be, however. He had been expecting something grander even than Rome, or the city of Constantine, yet what he saw put him more in mind of a small, backwater town. Even to his untrained eye, the buildings were mismatched and patchwork, different styles of marble sewn together haphazardly, unsymmetrically and non-uniformly--a cardinal sin, he gathered, to the keen mind of an architect. From the way Annabeth had spoken of it, Athens by rights should have been the virtual center of the known world, the shining jewel of Hellas and beyond, as it had been in centuries long past. Whatever it may have lacked in people or in great thinkers nowadays, however, there was at least plenty of food to be found. The air here was thick with the heady smells of garlic, salt, and onion, transporting him back to his childhood home, to his mother and her kitchen.

Gods, his mother. In all this time, he had not even spared a thought to her or her husband or their daughter. He had sent them from Constantinople prior to the siege, but he did not know where they had landed. Were they safe? Healthy? Had little Esther been able to sleep through the night without being plagued by any more nightmares? Was his mother able to make her pastries still, with cinnamon and mahleb?

Would he ever see them again?

Without much conscious thought, his wanderings brought him to a stall on the edge of the populated area, every inch covered in reams of fabric, richly hued, in shades of copper and cream and grey. He had passed by hundreds others just like it, so he was not certain why this one had caught his eye. Perhaps coming across this particular stall had simply coincided with an idea he had been concocting, a coincidence of good timing and sudden fortune. Perhaps it had been the length of blue cloth he had seen behind the elderly woman who sat in the center of her tent, eyeing him warily. “See something that piques your fancy?” she asked, though she made no further move to greet him.

“Oh,” he said, “no, thank you. I was merely looking.”

“Finest cloths in the city,” she said, a bold claim, he thought, since he was quite certain he had seen these exact fabrics on display in every little tent he had come across so far. “I make them all myself.”

“I do not have much in the way of money,” he said, hoping she would leave him be.

Oddly enough, that only seemed to excite her. She turned over her shoulder, pulling the bolt of blue down from behind her, and holding it out to him. In the evening light, he thought it might resemble the color of a starless sky, a deep, inky blue. “You have good taste--this color is very fashionable these days.”

“Truly, I have no money,” he said, even as an absurd thought began to form in his mind. The color, he thought, that blue, it would look quite beautiful set against a certain blonde braid.

She sighed. “What do you have?”

“Huh?”

“The malakes noblewoman who ordered this from me has declined to send someone to retrieve it for her for several days now,” she said, “and so it sits in the back of my stall, unsold and taking up valuable space, when it could be in your hands instead, or draped around the shoulders of your beautiful wife.”

Percy blushed. “She’s not--I mean--”

“But because I am a generous businesswoman,” she interrupted, smirking, “show me what you have, and we may be able to come to some arrangement.”

The way she looked at him, all-knowing and altogether too familiar, compelled him to obey. Counting his coins, he laid out his paltry offering before her, the smattering of silver stavrata, Venetian lira, and smaller, duller bronze coins making for a pitiful display, when his fingers fumbled, and a golden drachma tumbled out of his hands, coming to rest before her.

He froze, praying that she would not see it, or if she did, that she might mistake it for an Italian florin, and leave it be.

Naturally, of course, that is what she picked up, her eyes settling upon it almost instantly.

“Well, well, well,” she said, looking at the coin with curiosity. “It has been some time since I have seen one of these.”

“Ah,” Percy started, flushing. That coin was not meant for mortals, and they had precious few of them to spare. “That--I--that is to say--”

“If you are looking for the gods,” she went on, peering at him with new eyes, “I could have saved you the trouble. They are not here. In truth, they have not blessed this land with their presence for some time.”

He blinked, astonished.

With a kindly smile, she tucked the drachma back into his coin purse, swiping some of the lira for herself. “I think this makes for an adequate trade, no?”

Still, he was rendered dumb and speechless.

“Keep an eye on your money, traveler,” she said. “You never know if you will find more.”

The noise of the city was dwindling, down from a lively hum to a low murmur, and the light turned even cooler as the cold moon rose over the cliff. Annabeth would most likely be worried at his long delay, or at least starving. But he could not force himself to move yet. “You’re--” he stammered, “you--”

“Yes, child,” she said. “Now, you should be headed off. The guards do not take kindly to stragglers wandering the streets so late at night.”

There were a million things he wished to ask this woman, important things, questions of ancestry and whether or not there were more of their kind nearby, but all that he was able to say was the terrible, sad news that he carried within his heart. “Constantinople has gone,” he said. “The agoge has vanished.”

Bittersweet, she smiled, folding the shawl for him into a tight bundle. “I know.”

“You do?”

She nodded. “I had a dream.” And thus, she bade him good night.

In a daze, Percy wandered back to the inn where they were staying. On his way back, he had stopped to purchase some food like he promised her he would, settling a loaf of hard, cheap bread and some kefalotiri , as that was all he could afford, but at least it would tide them over for the night, until they decided on the next course of action.

When he returned, Annabeth was no longer lying prone on their bed, but sat upright, her back against the wall, eyes closed. She opened one as he entered, her hand automatically sneaking towards the folds of her dress where he knew she kept her knife, until, upon recognizing him, she relaxed, letting her hand fall back down to her lap.

“Here,” he said, placing the parcels on the bed between them, though he kept the shawl tucked away against his chest, for now. “Dinner.”

“Thank you,” she said, quietly, taking the bread, picking at it with her fingers, slipping the teeniest of bites into her mouth. After some time, she noticed that he was not following suit. “You’re not eating.”

It was not a question. “Ah, I ate mine as I returned to the inn,” he said, easily.

She stared at him, not at all convinced.

“In any case,” he went on, eager to change the topic, “I have been thinking about what we should do next.” He had done nothing of the sort, but hopefully it would take her mind off of the obvious.

“So have I.” She put the bread aside, drawing her knees up to her chest, and hugging them. “I would like to go home.”

Percy frowned. Surely she did not mean Sigeion . She had already indicated her feelings towards the search for Chiron and the rest of camp, namely, that it would be a useless, fruitless, frustrating search, and surely she did not mean Constantinople, lost to the ages. What other home was there?

“You know that my mortal family does not hail from here.”

“I do.” It was not a piece of information well hidden; one only had to look at her pale skin, her blonde hair, and her looming figure to know that she was, in all likelihood, not one of the Hellenes by blood.

She would not look at him, her fingers tapping random patterns over the fabric of her dress. “If he still lives, I should like to see my father.”

“Oh.” That was… unexpected. To anyone who knew her, there were a few core tenants of Annabeth as a person; her love of architecture was one of them, and her distaste for her father was another.

“When I--left him, he lived in a city called Uppsala, far to the North of here.”

“How far?”

She gave him a rueful smile. “Svealand.”

Well. That was indeed quite far. “You mean to travel to Svealand? On your own? That would take near on half a year.”

“To the East of Constantinople, there is an old trading route once used by the Norsemen to travel between their lands and ours,” she said. “A river by the name of Danapris .”

“A river?” he asked, skeptically.

“One that spans nearly the entire continent. In the time of   Basileios II Porphryogennitus, this was the route which delivered his legendary Varangian guard. I know for a fact it has fallen out of use, and the tribes of the Kievan Rus’ no longer roam that area.”

He had never heard of those people before--not that it mattered. “Annabeth, it does not matter how fearsome and ferocious you believe you are, you cannot travel all the way to Svealand by yourself.”

She scowled at him, lips pulling back into a snarl. “I have done so once before.”

“The whole road? By yourself?”

“Well,” she hesitated, “no. Not the whole thing. But I traveled some of it, before Thalia found me.”

“Be that as it may,” for he knew she would attempt to traverse the whole way by herself, merely to spite him, “as Thalia once did for you, let me do as well. I shall accompany you to Svealand.”

Her eyes widened. “Percy, no. You should be looking for Chiron.”

“As you yourself have said, he could be anywhere,” said Percy, “and I may have all the time in the world to find him. In the meantime, I should very much like to see you safely returned to your father.”

“I told you, the road is long since abandoned.”

“And you’ll forgive me if I am skeptical of that fact. Not of you,” he said at the look on her face, “nor your vast pools of knowledge, but even you cannot predict whether or not you shall meet trouble along the road, and it would comfort me greatly if I were able to come along.” Sourly, she opened her mouth as if to argue, but he interrupted her. “Annabeth. You cannot convince me otherwise. I am coming with you.”

Eyes narrowed, she glared at him, before acquiescing. “Fine.”

“Good.”

“Then we should rest. We shall leave at first light on the morrow.” On that abrupt note, she flopped down onto the bed, turning over once again, her back to him. “Good night, Perseus.”

The air was charged between them, with what he could not say, though he could nearly feel it shaking, as taught as bowstring. “Good night,” he said in response. Then, blowing out their room’s solitary candle, he laid himself down to sleep as well, his back to her, and thought not of the bundle of cloth he had purchased on a whim, not of how her golden braid might look against the dark blue fabric, and not of the sweet smile she had given him in the shadow of the Erechtheion. No, he thought of none of these things. Not at all.

[soulgathered-a]

new muse : cassandra of troy . 

name: cassandra / cass ( only a few people are allowed to call her that ). gender: female source: iliad  region: turkey 

about: the girl who caught the attention of the sun - cassandra is a woman of beauty, but even more - of intelligence. catching the divine’s eye is in itself an achievement but keeping that gaze is something else entirely. cassandra was able to speak to apollo wits and charm. 

though she never meant it as deception, nor as a way to gain anything, many misunderstood her rejection of the god once he made it clear that he desired to make her his. a bond with a god never ends well for a human, does it? and she had no desire to become just another tragic tale. she knew what would await her : to either be miserable in a life among divinity, away from her family... or she would find it overtime in herself to truly love apollo. and what then? watch her heart break as his attention shifts to someone else? no, clearly a rejection was the best path for her.

...the curse was unexpected. if asked now she would say that she would have preferred to just be killed on the spot. servants are not supposed to dream, they only have to witness their memories over and over : but cassandra’s memories were her old dreams, filled with blood and ash and the taste of tears. 

some stuff: 

 - she absolutely loathes apollo, she used to think of him as charming & liked his company, though she never developed romantic feelings ...after the curse & the war she developed a hatred for him that could nearly classify her as an avenger class. - she never used magic but she is still in the caster class because she falls under the category of clairvoyant - she is someone who could become a grandcaster, but she is not mentioned by the other candidates due to her curse still being partly in effect. she is basically the “if really every other grand caster candidate cannot do this, she’ll have to do” - she does feel angry towards paris, though it is not true hatred because he is still family. however, since chaldea’s paris is a young boy she cannot bring herself to let him know of her bitterness, especially since she never had the chance to meet her brother when he was little and she can now be a bit of a big sister. - in general her family, but especially her siblings, are her absolute weak point. she absolutely adores them. - she is very amused by hektor’s old man act & will gladly tell the master that “my brother is the most brilliant and sharp mind in troy. a most terrifying opponent in any strategy game.” she absolutely enjoys having discussions with him, testing out both their wits. - greeks suck & she will kick odysseus & achilles asses if she could