#all. phobetos

[tezcatllpoca]

closed starter for @phobetos​

Ignacio had nothing in common with anyone in Corinth Bay except for the fact that he was a being that most people didn’t truly believe existed. However, if there was one group of supernatural beings he felt linked to, it was the oneiroi. He had been looking for one and when he came across one, his eyes gleamed with mischief. Perhaps, that was why they had so much in common. Divination aside. “I’ve been looking for one of you.”

[waeteeth]

The text had been simple, it’d been one word. Temple. And then he’d gone to the bathroom, yet another room bathed in blood and bodies, and he’d emptied his stomach of any snack he’d had in Athens. It shouldn’t have mattered, it was all blood, it was everywhere. Under his fingernails, at the knees of his jeans from kneeling in the mess, in splotches on his shirt. He swore if he turned on the faucet, the water would just run red. It hadn’t though and he’s less of a visible mess, it’s off his skin at least, but finding clothes that aren’t covered in it are impossible.

And so that’s why he sits hunched over on the altar, fingers running through his hair when they aren’t wringing together. Anemos, Phobetos too maybe, he’ll text them both and tell them to watch the villa from afar.He’d already told Tobias and Maven to stay far from the flat. But for the moment he’s just waiting in a panic, fear and dread and everything else just in the pit of his stomach as he tries to pull himself together. The usual combination of florals hit his nostrils and somehow, for once, they don’t offer him any comfort.

“None of it’s mine.” It’s a callback to that night in the greenhouse he thinks, right before the veil had fallen. But there’s no humor to it, he’s shaking his head and drawing a breath he doesn’t need to take. “Job went fine, came home tae a bit of a mess.” @mylesxdelian​

[phobetos]

for: @zulcyha​ location: the apartment above sibyl’s cave

Phobetos poured the water from the screaming kettle into the mug, jostling the tea bag inside until the liquid grew dark enough that they were satisfied with it. A lump of sugar and a splash of milk came next, and then the spirit began to pad down the stairs from the apartment, out the door and then down the side of the shop. It opened to the alleyway, where they saw Leyha, dark hair spilled over her shoulders like ink, surrounded by what appeared to be all of the strays of Corinth. “Have they started to talk to you yet?” They teased, now by her side and offering her the cup. “I named them you know.” A hand gestured out to an orange and cross looking creature and they grinned broadly before looking over at the manticore, “That one’s Lykaon.”

[anemosofnyx]

“Epiales is gone.” The youngest spirit wanted to see more of the world, to experience more, and Anemos could not deny them that. They would have gone with them, but that meant leaving behind everyone here; Rafael and Hippolyta, Nemesis and Phobetos, even Vasilis. They can’t just pick up and leave, not like they normally could. “They were another like me, an oneiroi.” It’s a shame that Rafael never got to meet them. He should know Anemos’s family, like they know his. “They’re new to this world, and they want to see more of it. But we were going to get married, after Nem’s wedding. It was going to be grand.” What a shame they’ll miss out on that party. “Oh well. It’ll just have to wait until they get back.” They have plenty of time, after all, as immortal spirits. It could be a hundred years from now and they’ll still be the same. ( @rafaelyilmcz​ )

[zulcyha]

“I read about you, you know.” It’s how Leyha announces her presence, no greeting necessary as she’s certain the other woman will remember her. The manticore has always left a big impression in her wake, even in her days as a succubus. “About Valkyries.” It had been a trip down a rabbit hole, as the internet says. The accounts of humans cannot be trusted, of course, but the easy access of information online from the little cellular device Phobetos had given her cannot be beaten. “Do you have a winged horse here? I would like to see it.” Her eyes dance around the stable, thoroughly unimpressed to see what looks like all completely normal steeds. ( @vclkyric​ )

[virajxsoteira]

@hektorsoteira​

“Mavens been made human again. A witch.” Viraj said simply, dark eyes stayed fixed upon the ceiling above them as blankets pooled at his waist. The smell of the sea wafted in through the open window, carrying with it the sound of the Aegean beating across the shore. This is what Viraj had come here to tell his sire, and instead he’d lowered himself before Hektor like any pious waif before a Godly altar. “It was her choice, she had a vampire help her with the arrangements. Jamie, apparently he knows Patroclus and was connected to a pair of oneiroi as a result: Phobetos and Anemos.” The insult felt fresh still, that Maven who had been like family to him would turn away from the gift she’d been given. That Jamie would help her in this endeavour, and that there was a man in this city with the audacity to rescind Hektor’s power.  Viraj canted his head to watch the stone-like features of Hektor’s frame, sharp blue eyes cut through the dark. “I plan on killing all of them. Maven, Jamie, Phobetos, Anemos. Patroclus. But I thought you should know that someone in this city is undoing your cult’s work.” 

[ryqoshay]

Promptober-2021: Happy Life: Mayonaka

Primary Pairing: YohaRiko Words: 467 Rating: G Prompt: Midnight Parent Fic: Happy Life Time Frame: Sometime during college

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Author’s Note: 2nd entry for Oct 20th’s prompt

Summary: Yohane found another stray

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“I’m telling you, Riri, she was so~ cute!” Yoshiko was describing a stray cat she had come across on the way home and managed to find a new owner shortly thereafter. “Fur as dark as the deepest of nights. Golden eyes that shown like twin moons of another world. Teeth that glistened like ceremonial bone daggers.”

Riko couldn’t help thinking that pretty much described Phobetor, currently sitting in Yoshiko’s lap. The main difference being Phobetor’s one emerald eye.

“And I came up with the perfect name for her too, Mayonaka!” Yoshiko continued. “I do hope her new owner takes it into consideration. It’s such a cute name for a cute little kitty… hey! Wha? Phobetor?”

Riko watched as the current cat of the apartment swatted at her girlfriend’s hand as she tried to pet him. Then, Phoboter stood, turned, and with tail held high, trotted over to Riko before climbing into her lap.

“I think you made him jealous, Yocchan.” Riko commented.

“Phobeto~r!” Yoshiko whined. “I wasn’t trying to imply that I would have Mayonaka replace you! I was saying I’d have her in addition to you!”

Phobetor responded by kneading a couple times into Riko’s leg before curling up between her and Prelude, who had already been on her lap.

“Yohane can’t be the only one who thinks having a third pet would be a good idea, right Riri?”

“Hrm…” Riko considered. “I think sometimes it feels like Yocchan is already my third pet.”

“Wha?” Yoshiko balked. “Yohane is nobody’s pet! If anything, Riri is Yohane’s little demon.”

“I thought I was your angel?”

“Yes, right, angel…” Yoshiko shook her head. “Wait, why was Yohane Riri’s third pet?”

Riko laughed.

“Anyway, it’s not fair that Riri gets both Phobetor and Prelude.” Yoshiko groused. “Come over here, Prelude.” She coaxed, patting her lap. “C’mon, Prelude.”

The pug opened her eyes and watched Yoshiko for a moment. Then, she slowly got to her feet.

“That’s a good girl.” Yoshiko patted her lap again. “C’mon. C’mon over to Yohane.”

Prelude stepped closer to Riko and Phobetor before settling back down, curling herself around the smaller cat.

Yoshiko whined again. Riko laughed again. Yoshiko pouted adorably.

“Well, there may not be room left on my lap.” Riko decided to say. “But my shoulder is open.” She reached her arm toward her girlfriend.

Yoshiko hesitated.

“C’mon, Yocchan.” Riko prompted, mimicking her girlfriend’s former tone as she patted her shoulder with her other hand. “C’mon over to Riri.”

Finally, Yoshiko gave in and slid in next to Riko, leaning her head on her shoulder.

“That’s a good girl, Yocchan.” Riko cooed as she wrapped her arm around her girlfriend and patted her head.

“That’s all?” Yoshiko asked as Riko began to move her hand away.

Riko laughed again and resumed her headpats.

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Author’s Note Continued: Mayonaka is actually the name of an OC in my unpublished D&D fic. She is the younger sister of Yozakura, real name Hakumei, who I have managed to bring into TA via a TTRPG Setsuna is running, where Ayumu plays her.

But the way I write Mayo has thus far relied heavily on first person narration as it grants me access to a particular style I learned from the Haruhi light novels that intentionally blurs the lines among Kyon’s internal and external monologue as well as the overall narration itself. And I’m just not sure I’m ready to try translating that over to a third person perspective. Especially when confined to 4k characters in a prompt event.

But I still love the name and couldn’t pass up using it somehow for the Midnight prompt. Thus, Yohane found another kitty. And Phobetor’s jealous.

Edit: If anyone is curious about how I write Mayo, I did translate her, Ryqo, Yoza, and a couple other of my D&D OCs into a LL style school idol setting a~ll the way down at the bottom of my Archive. They were the first posts I made this account, in fact. Lonely derelicts of a long past event on an LL fansite I unfortunately rarely visit these days.

[emoryhart]

Downtime allowed for a lot of people watching. Emory found it was something he wound up doing whether he liked it or not. It was an old game, one that’d started after his mother had passed and his father’s voice had gotten into his head. He wondered what people were often, if there was a way he could tell just by looking at them, exchanging a few words at the bar. Sometimes he’d tell himself he was good at it, the problem was Corinth was crawling with all sorts of things he’d never heard of, or had thought to simply just be myths. The person before him who’d asked for some kind of convoluted shot, he couldn’t place them though. There’s a kind of...Slyness? Mischief maybe, that feels secretive, knowing almost. “Do you uh, wanna repeat that? Couldn’t hear you over the music.” @phobetos​

[corinthbayrpg]

NAME. Phobetos ( Ayberk Taşkıran & Yasemin Karaduman ) AGE & BIRTH DATE. 3000+ & Unknown GENDER & PRONOUNS. Nonbinary & They/Them SPECIES. Oneiroi OCCUPATION. Owner of Sybil’s Cave FACE CLAIM. Tolga Mendi / Cagla Demir

BIOGRAPHY

( tw: imprisonment, murder, war ) Phobetos remembers the world when it was young, perhaps better so than they do their own youth. Theirs was not the warmth of birth, they were created of elements, conjured at the hand of Nyx, one of her dream weavers, and one of the first. They were named after fear, and their first steps into infancy was in a world that was saturated in it. The fitful rest of the residents of early Greece was their guide, they learned language and history, stepping onto the streets with a hunger for knowledge. They watched, flanked by others of their own kind, as the descendants of the gods grew restless and claimed cities in their name. Phobetos saw the rise of Thebes, they caught glimpses of Cadmus— saw the way that the gods intervened in the lives of men, how they sent their monsters for them to defeat and how the heroes championed. Perseus, son of Zeus, the original beheader of the gorgon Medusa and saviour of Andromeda had waltzed by them as they watched, silent and patient, founding Mycenae soon after.

Nyx had created them as helpers of humanity and as a result, Phobetos was fascinated by them. Their allegiance lay only with themselves and they spent their days learning from the children of the gods and from the heroes that sprung fourth from the era. They watched with glee in Aetolia as Artemis sent her boar, fed and influenced the fear that it brought, before they took up their place in the front row, watching as Meleager finished the great beast after Atalanta pierced it with her bow. Satisfaction rippled through the city as the heroine took her prize, and Phobetos found themselves fascinated with that as well. It was then that they found themselves too involved, accidentally talking their way into the crew of the Argonauts; one of forty-nine. It was on this voyage that they brushed shoulders with the children of the gods, the heroes of Greece. Their role was never recorded in history, and they remained nameless in the countless retellings of the tale: but in every rendition that they tell of the time, Phobetos describes the hounds of Zeus with great detail, right down to the curved talons that descended upon Phineus to blind him. The entire endeavour took four months and Jason became a king, and the spirit continued their wandering. Fear is an idle presence, never a main player, content to seep through and shine in cracks that light forced through. 

And so it was, well into their existence, that Phobetos came to Troy. They watched in delight as players moved across the stage that was the great city, saw as Achilles grew from a golden boy into a man, bathed in the sorrow that laced itself through beautiful Helen’s dreams, and bared their teeth in a wicked smile as Hector’s body tossed up dust as it dragged behind the furious chariot of the great hero. When Paris drew his bow and felled Achilles, leagues fell into mourning and into despair and Phobetos revelled in it for a while. Deciding their playtime in war to be over as the tenth year of the Trojan war cast over the city, Paris fell, and the spirit left before ever seeing Odyssesus craft the wooden horse of legend. From the great city they stole a face, crafting a memento from a soldier that had fallen. His name had never been known to them, and Phobetos created their own, passing through the world as Ayberk Taşkıran.

It was knowledge that they sought out next, to know war was to know only a single side of the beings that they lived amongst, now they hungered for true understanding. They travelled through the ancient world, consuming knowledge of history and those who had played their roles in it. It was in those years that they came to understand how magic wove through the world, ribboning through the lives and dreams of everyone- there were beasts that roamed in packs and there were witches and oracles and others like them, formed of elements who shepherded the dead to their final resting places. They learned other human traits, ones beyond fear and pride and the other reigning characteristics that push individuals into war: they learned of bravery, morality (though they struggled to understand it), passion, and most perplexing of all: love.

Their wandering feet took them to Arcadia, where the sun shone the brightest and they revelled in the wilderness. It was across a market that they came across a being whose spirit bloomed brightly, as though she carried the flame of a phoenix. Riddled with intrigue, entirely enraptured, they sought her out, bearing the face and figure of Ayberk, a ghost from her home country to snag her attention. It was for her that they gave their true name, murmuring it against her willing ear. Phobetos, it was a name for a god, and they told her of their true nature, of their creation of fire and air. At the warmth of her attention the spirit felt as though their belly was swimming with stars, like they had swallowed down entire constellations formed of heroes they had once known. This, they decided, tethering their life to the human, was what it was to know love.

She was possessed by another, and despite their insistence to remove him from her life; she had already sworn that his fated was tied to a god- when he died, they seemed to forget about whatever agreement had been made between Hermes and Züleyha, living out the duration of a human life together. What was forty years to a being that knew of eternity? It was a yawn, a slow blink in Phobetos’ life and it was too soon over, she grew frail and grey, and it was by their side that she passed on, her soul slipping into the greedy hands of the gods she had bargained with. It was exciting at first, watching her delve into immortality. Theirs was a wicked start, voracious in their appetites for one another, noticing too late that a succubus’ love could steal a soul and their being was entirely soul. The spirit had started to fade, so much of them had disappeared at the warmth of their lover, but it was the guidance of her patron god that had lead the two of them to the home of the original phoenix, who returned the fragmented pieces of their being, healing them from a shadowy existence to their original self. 

They were still young in their existence, and whatever advice that Petrichor impressed upon them had been vehemently rejected. To love a cubi was a death sentence, he had said it gently, but the two had ignored the sage advice, cobbling together a life that they hoped could be as beautiful as their early years. For a while, it seemed to be alright- they tore through the ancient world like a two headed terror, but the nature of Züleyha’s being began to prove difficult for the oneiroi, whose feelings of love began to be throttled by the warped vines of jealousy and betrayal; warmth in their relationship was all but strangled. They spat cruelties at her in hurt, recognizing the emotion they felt to be pain: to see one that they loved with countless others felt like swallowing daggers and they were soon parted.

Wandering became part of their life again, this time with a fervent motivation. A cure for the cubi was something that they sought and failing such, anything that could protect a soul. The spirit found their way through the ancient land, weaving through a world that was still rich with magic. Restless feet brought them to Macedonia, where whispers of a great genasi who held enough power to grant what it was that they desired. It was a bargain struck under the fullness of a moon and Phobetos, after nearly two thousand years of life, whose wisdom in keeping far from the greedy hands of men had kept them alive- offered their talisman to the genasi who swore their possession of it to only last the duration of a moment. Once his fingers closed around the item, which sat in the form of a necklace, the oneiroi realized their mistake.

Rage encompassed the trapped spirit, who sat muzzled by the whims of the genasi. The next year was to be spent in the same manner as a caged circus animal, poked at and showed off, with their powers expended and abused for the delight of those who cycled through the home of the magic wielder. Anger began to seep into their being and they became a snarled, desperate thing: as days turned to months and the months drew to a long year, they cast aside any hope of being rescued: their own kind knew little of their existence and any other alliance they had was a bridge torched. In the end, it was the arrogance of their captor that had set them free. Word of an oneiroi imprisoned had reached the ear of one cubi in particular and Züleyha found them, a crippled version of what they had once been, cowering at the corner of what was their cage. Confusion set as they saw her again, betrayal was worse than any amount of pain or burn of iron to their skin when they saw her hand in the grip of their captor. It was only when blood pooled at their feet that they realized her intentions. A beat passed with immense slowness when the cubi picked their talisman from the body of the genasi and fear ribboned through the spirit- it was only when she placed it back in their hands without hesitation that they realized the true gravity of their connection. 

There was no scenario that they would not love her. What remained of their rage still burned as they parted again, tearing through the world with a hunger to taste the emotions that lay outside of longing. They grew more wicked, fascinated by gore and by viscera, causing pain in ways that they could not feel themselves- studying the face of a man who bled out, noting the last cries of those who faded from existence. This was what it was like to die, they learned and they delighted in the way that they could use a pretty face to lure someone in, to exploit the weaknesses in the consumptive nature of men and women. Their desire for destruction lead them to North America, where they paced along new lands and watched as the world fought over the soils that grew lush crops. Blood was shed senselessly and they dove through the dreams of the innocents, fascinated to be in a world that had been isolated for as long as they had known. Barefoot and fascinated by the mysticism of the land, the untouched nature of the new worlds, Phobetos spent the duration of the seven year war in New France before they finally sailed back to London, beginning the regency era in what the rest of the crew of their ship deemed to be a more civilized world. 

Despite the time that had passed, they still held the face of Ayberk. A fond attachment to his features had kept them clinging to it, as did their hunger for years long passed, and the hope that one day they would be recognized by them again. They cast their name through the city like a wide net, hoping to summon forth the cubi that they had been separated from for so long. Throughout the years, they had been brought back together- brief touches in time that Phobetos regarded as sweet and too fleeting, as their aimless journeys took them to new lands and separated them again. It was in London that the spirit took to their wicked trickery, following in the steps of a Ripper-esque demon. The city seemed plagued by them, vampires and monsters of men, whatever grisly scene they left behind never returned to the two-faced spirit. It was just a small amount of amusement, a spark that lacked the strength to fan into a proper flame.

It was in London that she found them again, this time as a figure draped along his doorstep, her face unchanged by time when they flung it open and took her inside. It had been the second time she had died in their presence, and Phobetos clung to her body as the Erinyes lay claim to the soul. Whatever their last words were to be, they would not be in anger, and they wove her a dream of the warmth of their early existence, giving her something sweet to cling onto while she faded away. She would not be buried in London, they took her to Greece, back to Arcadia where her bones lay to rest near their home. The world had forgotten them, and much had changed, but the spirit murmured their goodbye as soil covered the plot and a stone carved with both of their names, binding their souls. Züleyha Taşkıran. It was then that they learned of mourning, of the true pain of being left behind. 

Centuries passed and they took up residence in the city of Çanakkale. It was the place that Troy had met its end and it felt like a fitting place for their life, passing through with a new face. They were uninterested in the draw of magic, but plagued by loneliness- what remained of their kin were few and far between, they had been certain that whatever was left of their kind had dwindled down to weak numbers: they had wasted the years that they were plenty. Phobetos, in their age and wisdom now considers themselves to be an expert on humanity, on magic and the world that reigns around them, despite how things often mystify them in the variances of human nature. This arrogance has led them through the rest of their life, until the fall of the veil, where they found themselves in Nyx’s kingdom.

There were forty-nine of them left, and one�� brand new. Three existed now in Corinth, and as the veil was patched and they were cast back into the world, spat into the city, Phobetos made up their mind to take up residence there. It has been far too long since they have come into the orbit of one of their own, they miss the kinship that they share and the strength that they have together. It is a result of their own amusement that the oneiroi has now become the owner of a shop, telling fortunes to those too dense to understand the gravity of them. Through Sybil’s Cave they cycle through magical items, delighting in trickery and torment as a result of it.

PERSONALITY

+ adaptable, intuitive, intelligent - amoral, destructive, opportunistic

PLAYED BY Sam. EST. She/Her.

[waeteeth]

“Right, so.” It’s ridiculously early for normal people. But considering he hadn’t even attempted to sleep and had been practically pacing the kitchen for what felt like hours until he could make coffee for both partners. He’d already seen Hyacinth off and he knew the moment he was left alone with Patroclus, he couldn’t keep any of this to himself anymore. It was something they all needed to sit down and talk about probably, but Jamie wanted each partner’s opinion and then he wanted to sit and think about what he wanted to do about all of this before they did anything like that. So he stands at the doorway to the bedroom, shoulder leaning against the doorframe as he looks to the just waking Patroclus. “There’s someone looking for ye. An’ Phobetos an’ Anemos.” He can’t say it and just stay in place so he moves from the doorway to perch himself on the edge of the bed, setting the cup of coffee he’d made the other on the nightstand. “It’s more than a little complicated.” @kairosxevander​

[anemosofnyx]

“You made it.” They recognize the other spirit, their time in Nyx’s realm had been greeted with the faces of many other oneiroi they had never met before. At the time it had been hard to believe, that so many of them had still been wandering the world, even if not together — when Anemos had gone almost an entire lifetime alone, fifty felt like an army. And that was only of the ones that had still been alive on the earth, when the veil had fallen. A handful of them had come to the city after they had all been returned, Phobetos as the first and then Peirasmos not much long after, and now Anemos’s gaze has caught the figure of another. They wrap their arms around his shoulders warmly, pulling the other oneiroi into a hug. “I’m so glad you came, Eros.” ( @erosxoneiroi​ )

[phobetos]

for: @zuleyhaacikgoz​ location: phobetos’ home above sibyl’s cave

The process of relearning a body is easier than one would have expected. They have mapped and canvasses the planes and valleys of Leyha’s body, found home in the expanse of warm skin. Despite the knowledge that their forms are temporary, that they scarcely remember what their true skin looks like, Ayberk is something akin to home- they belong to the woman that they cradled in their arms, and for that cause, they have stayed in the single body for so long. Large hands thread through dark hair, carding it back and letting silken strands tangle and wind around their fingers. Whatever dreams she had had, they were of a world ablaze. Phobetos had very little concept of pain— they had memories of iron pressed to their skin at the hands of a genasi, and the way that their organs had felt wrung out when she had been away from them, but whatever it was that she felt in her dreams, that was real pain, vibrant and artful in ways that they weren’t even sure they knew how to inflict. Instead, they painted a nightscape for her as she slept of the world that had changed when she was gone. Roads smoothed from dirt, to gravel, to cobble and then asphalt and from forests they illustrated the rise of tall, incredible buildings. There was so much to explore and above all of it, every constellation winked above her, bidding her to sleep restfully. When Leyha had finally woken, the crease in her brow was smoothed and Phobetos was studying her face, offering a smile and a rush of excitement. “You have to try iced coffee.”

[emoryhart]

The library is one of the few places he can quietly sit around and house hunt. Before him are his phone, a local paper, a notepad with various addresses scribbled. Zillow worked just fine, but he needed something down physically. He has a pen in one hand and his chin in the other, eyes unfocused as he just scrolls through house listings. He hadn’t slept after he’d gotten back from the bar, he didn’t so much anymore, sleep was hard to come by, he would rather be a semblance of productive. So instead of crawling into bed, he scrolls, he scribbles, he tries to picture a home for him and Micah and Tobias.

The woods were quiet, he could hear leaves crunching under his feet. Around him, they were beginning to change colors. He can hear his brothers up ahead, the sounds of them messing around in the distance. They can’t be all that far from the family camp, they’re being too loud to be deep in the woods. Deep in the woods where they’d always been told to be quiet, to be vigilant. 

@phobetos​

[phobetos]

for: @oneiroixnemesis​ location: sibyl’s cave

“A visitor,” Phobetos said, greeting the other oneiroi as they opened the door. The sign on the shop said that it was closed, but the insistent rapping upon the surface had lured them from within, where they had been busy appraising one of Safiye’s newest items. A ring, with a rock the size of a walnut and an energy that was supposed to be as powerful as that of a reaper’s touch. They weren’t convinced of their use for it, but supposed that a customer would walk in and think the world of it if it was given the right name and a pretty enough box to be displayed in. Now, they raked a hand through dark hair, gesturing for Nemesis to come in. “We haven’t talked much, you and I,” they said, leading the other through the shop to find the more comfortable reading room in the back. Cards were still splayed on the table, sage burned idly on a plate, setting off a soft plume of smoke. It was all theatre and trickery, the real magic was only offered to those who truly sought it out. “I must have missed your creation, you’re rather young, aren’t you?”

[phobetos]

for: @eliastaylcr​ location: the bus station

He was sleeping, long lashes cast down over his cheekbones and his chest rose and fell as each bus pulled in and out of the station, leaving him behind. Phobetos lingered near the shifter, studying him. He was tall, but he shrunk into himself, becoming smaller and less obstructive. Curiosity killed the cat, but they were not so easily killed, and the spirit settled in beside the shifter, brushing their hand against his before sending him into a deeper slumber- he took a fitful breath, and then they slipped into the dream. 

It was easy to manipulate, like setting a stage, the oneiroi navigated the memory that Elias visited while taking on the form of a shadow, something scarcely visible. Bits and pieces of the memory fell away, shaped by the spirit at their whim. Cloudless blue skies were replaced by the swirling darkness of the night of the storm, and they painted in broad strokes, adding cries, the feeling of loss so thick it could have been smoke. A figure that he loved, faceless and cast towards the ground, and a knife made of a jaw bone jutting out from their chest. Phobetos, now a shadow, turned to where Elias stood, watching it all take form. “What do you fear most, little cat?”

[phobetos]

for: @casperhahn​ location: hel’s deep

Soon, they would be thrown out of such a place. Phobetos was undefeated and unblemished, bearing a wild man’s smile and a wicked glimmer in their eye. Their request for only opponents that were shifters was regarded as strange at first, but now they had amassed a crowd— divided in sides that thought them a cheater, and that thought them a hero. This was the worship that the gods hungered for, they realized, wondering if they sat in Olympus, withered and forgotten, with their ears pressed to the earth begging for a lick of the praise and idolatry that the oneiroi received now. Another shifter entered the ring and flint-black eyes settled upon their new opponent. Young and gangly, this one didn’t look very dangerous at all. The spirit circled them, grinning with teeth that felt serrated. “You can back out, little one,” they taunted, despite how much taller the other man stood. “Especially while they’re checking if the last one is still breathing.”