#and Eurydice is just his muse (and I LOVE the line ‘you’ll find another muse somewhere’…I might hate Orpheus like the oroginal peformer idk

[inquirenorth]

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[olympiansrpg1-blog]

BASICS

Name: Sebastien Park Age: 28 Affiliation: Titans Occupation: Hitman Faceclaim: Steven Yeun Status: TAKEN by Josie

THE STORY

They call you Leto. You’ve never not known the smell of cigarettes, watching cartoons every morning with ten other kids and waiting for your turn to use the shower. On nights you couldn’t fall asleep, you’d catch fireflies and keep them in jars underneath your blankets, your own little paradise. You’ve always been a bright child, but it didn’t matter if you tried hard at school or if your painting was your teacher’s favorite. That’s how life unraveled before you - leaving your foster home when you turned eighteen, floating around, getting involved with the types of people those television commercials used to warn you about. But you were a quick learner, moving from place to place and steadily moving up the ladder, ultimately learning how to make people disappear. Atlas didn’t come to you - you found them, and they instantly knew they’d be missing out if they let you go. So here you are, Leto. Another home - though you secretly hope it’ll be the last stop you make.

CONNECTIONS

ORPHEUS - Falling into bed with Orpheus was never a big deal, one of the many ways to blow off steam after a particularly heated job. The problem is that you’ve gotten to know them better and you do see the good in them - what Eurydice saw in them. You never knew Eurydice so there’s really no guilt there; just bitterness that comes from knowing that Orpheus will never look at you the way they did their lost love.

ICARUS - You’d caught Icarus trying to steal your wallet when you were briefly distracted and you’d taken them to an alley and left Icarus with a nasty concussion and a bloody nose. You hadn’t quite realized then that the little street thief was involved with the Olympians, but it doesn’t really matter anyhow. They should be thankful that you left them alive, really. 

CHIMERA - When Chimera first became one of the Titans, they barely knew how to fight. Iapetus may have taught Chimera everything they knew, but Iapetus was never a fighter. Lucky for them, you were one of their best, and you trained Chimera, generously teaching them everything you knew. It makes you feel a bit proud, watching them grow, knowing that you helped them get there. 

SUGGESTED FACECLAIMS

Devon Aoki, Julia Jones, Hannah Simone, Michael Ealy, Steven Yeun, Chris Pine

PARA SAMPLE

(setting: NYC, approximately two months ago. trigger warning: death, guns, smoking)

The music that played over his headphones had a surprisingly happy feeling to it, considering the gun in the back of his pants, tucked away under a plain t-shirt. His hands were buried deep in his pockets, a hum vibrating in his throat. His face seemed impassive enough, just another person in the crowd, but his eyes continually drifted over a man several feet ahead of him. The man alternated between phone calls, texting, shouting at the people around him when he bumped into them while he wasn’t paying attention, and generally making a nuisance of himself. Sebastien wrinkled his nose a little, but to anyone else who might’ve noticed him they’d chalk it up to the hot dog cart he passed (a rather nasty one, if the flies buzzing around had anything to say about it).

The man had made the mistake of creeping into Tartarus a few nights ago, seeking information for Old Olympus. He wasn’t one of their usuals; and none of his people had recognized him. Good informants lasted, but that meant that regular ones continued to drop like flies. Sebastien had followed him over the course of the past few days, learning his routines, taking pictures of him and anyone he interacted with. He’d even followed him to Club Nyra last night, and Bastien had to laugh at the balls on this man. He was either stupid, or brave. Of course, the two words could easily be exchanged.

Sebastien pulled his phone out, casually scrolling through his music as he stepped into a bodega. The man had stopped here a few days ago, left with a pack of cigarettes and three packs of gum, but Bastien had noticed more cigarettes being smoked than gum being chewed in the past few days, and it was obviously a habit he was failing at kicking.

Shane Smith was such a dumb name that it had to be real, Bastien mused to himself as he threw up two bags of sour skittles onto the counter, and pointed out his own pack of cigarettes. It was easy to melt back into the crowd, this time with a sugar rush and the scent of smoke swirling in his nose. He hated the taste, but the scent was as comforting as the callouses on his fingers (gun or guitar?), as comforting as the purr of a cat. It reminded him of where he’d come from (practically nothing), mornings spent with JaimeandJames, Mikey, all the other siblings that had come through his life at different times.

Though when he’d exited, Shane Smith was nowhere in sight, it was easy to retrace steps the man had made before to find him again. And Shane Smith was definitely stupidly brave, Bastien thought, later, when he trailed the man back to Club Nyra. He wouldn’t go closer than five blocks off, but it was easy to see him walking back inside. Bastien shook his head, finishing off his second bag of skittles and tucking the trash into his pocket. He’d hate himself for it later when there was sour salt all in his jeans, but he needed to get out of sight because New Olympus would have lookouts, and while they weren’t the Titans, they seemed smarter than the old farts for sure. Bastien backtracked, blending in with people exiting a nearby bar until he spotted Shane again.

He hummed, quietly, and placed his earbuds back in.

This isn’t violence, this is just a war in my head / I give it time but it never seems to end

Bastien’s every step fell in beat with the song playing, his eyes tracking through alleys as he followed a path parallel to Shane’s. The man didn’t even think to zig zag, and that was a shame. He could’ve gotten away. And honestly, Bastien could’ve just let him go, with the line he was walking. Shane Smith would be dead in a few days if he wasn’t careful, double-crossing both Old and New Olympus and trying to dig into the Titans as well. Sebastien clicked his tongue, and a grin curled across his lips as he finally drifted behind Shane after following him for about thirty minutes, closer than he had been the entire past three days.

Shane’s body language shifted from the relaxed stance of a white man at night to that of someone who at least had a small care for their existence. Smarter than he looks, then. Bastien popped one earbud out, and whistled the beat of the song that had been playing from Club Nyra’s doors when Shane had walked in. His shoulders were lifting up around his ears, and he looked ready to bolt. Bastien chuckled a little, eyes casual as he scanned the streets around him. Shane was crossing into Titan territory without even thinking about it, as they walked further and further.

Sebastien’s legs stretched further, carrying him closer to Shane. He grinned a little wider when he caught Shane trying to casually glance over his shoulder, but the streetlights only just caught Sebastien here and there as he ducked around them. With no one else on their particular stretch of road, it was easy to herd Shane into a familiar dead end alley, and Bastien’s hands slid comfortably into his own back pockets. His stance was casual where he stood at the front of the alley, watching as Shane realized he had nowhere else to go. The streetlight behind him illuminated black hair but cast a glare over Sebastien’s face, and he grinned as Shane squinted a little.

“You’ve been fucking around lately, haven’t you Shane? Trying to be a rat in Titan territory when you can’t even decide where your loyalties actually lie? Money won’t save you when the people you’ve been double crossing find out. And they will. I imagine they’ve had their own eyes on you recently.” Sebastien grinned a little wider, stepping in closer and ducking his head. His face looked so incredibly friendly in that moment that he saw the indecision on Shane’s face, the moment where this man had to decide if he was a friend or a foe.

“Your only option is running, isn’t it?” Sebastien hummed, tucking his earbuds away in his pocket at last, head cocking to the side. “Oh, but they’d know. They’d know and they’d find you before you could get a hundred miles from here."

"W-Who are you?"

The first words out of Shane’s mouth, and that was what he thought to ask? Stupid. So fucking stupid.

"I’m here to give you some advice.” Bastien rocked back on his heels, his hands returning to his back pockets, thumb tracing along the gun at his back. “Running really is your only option, unless you wanna die.” Bastien clicked his tongue. “You’ll probably die regardless. Your own fault, really. You’re an idiot for thinking you could pull this off. Fingers in pies that are far too hot, y'know?” Bastien shrugged, eyes falling back to Shane’s face. “You need to disappear. Whether you die or not is up to you, I guess. How far you can go, how well you can hide, how fucking smart you are. I guess you can choose how you die too.” Bastien eased the gun out of his waistband, weighing it easily and holding it with the casual grace of someone who had killed numerous times before and accepted it.

“I can kill you here in this alleyway, Shane Smith, with your expensive watch and nice clothes, and everyone will just think it was a mugging gone sideways. You can go home, Shane Smith, and kill yourself, save everyone else the trouble. You can run, Shane Smith, and one of them can kill you if you aren’t careful enough.” His lips curled again, his smile just as friendly as before. Every time he said the man’s name, he could see him flinch, eyes growing more and more wild as his fear response kicked in.

Bastien clicked his tongue, lowering the gun and rolling his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m here to make you disappear. Been following you the past few days. They’ve undoubtedly seen me once or twice if they’ve got their own tails on you, so you’ll be in pretty hot water soon. But I’m the kind of guy that likes to give people a choice with these things, especially when it seems like they don’t have much of a choice at all. People always surprise you when they’re at their most afraid.” Bastien tilted his head, blinking slowly. “So what’s it gonna be?”

Shane Smith blathered on for exactly six minutes and fourteen seconds before he just broken down in tears. Sebastien cocked his head to the side and listened to him as he cried and then Shane begged him to just end it for him, to save everyone else the trouble. “I couldn’t get any info on your people anyway, it’s fine- Just kill me, no one could tie it back to you- They’ll torture me-” Bastien wrinkled his nose at that, blinked and shook his head and sighed.

“Disappointing, really.” He shrugged his shoulders, rocked on his heels again. “Was kind of hoping you’d come up with something better.” And then he grinned. “When you head home tonight, one of them will be waiting for you. Probably one of the old farts; Zeus is territorial after all, and an impatient fuck. They won’t make it pretty. It will hurt. Guess you’d better find a way out of town without going back there.”

Bastien put the gun away in his pants and turned away when he heard Shane’s scrambling steps, and it was back out in within a second, pressed to Shane’s chest as Bastien turned, brows furrowed a little. Shane’s eyes went wide all over again. Bastien wrinkled his nose, shaking his head.

“Fine.”

Two shots, a quick gloved sweep of the man’s body to steal his wallet, his watch, and his cufflinks, and a few heavy sighs later, Bastien had ducked into the shadows and vanished as people came pouring out to try and find the source of the noise. He dropped the stuff in a sewer, and exactly twenty-four minutes after he’d given Shane Smith the choice of his life, Bastien was heading back to his apartment where it was settled directly in Titan territory.

His phone was eased out of his pocket, and he groaned in disgust at the sour salt all over the screen. “Do this every fucking time I buy these,” he muttered, typing in his password before dialing a number he had memorized. He could’ve called the number with his hands tied behind his back, half-drugged, beaten nearly to death (and had, once before). There was a genuine smile on his face as a familiar voice came on, and it transformed him into something remnant to the friendly man who had greeted a stranger in an alley, except this was genuine. “Hey, Rich. Well, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news and as always the good news is fake because I didn’t actually save you any sour skittles this time but I did finally snatch up that rat that was crawling around my apartment, you know the one. Yeah, he’s not gonna be chewing up anymore important files, I promise. Nasty little thing though."

Bastien paused for a moment, listening, and hummed softly under his breath. "Yeah, I’m sure there’s a corner store I can find you some more skittles at, and I promise I won’t eat them before I see you again. And I will also pass your love on to my cats because as much as you complain about their fur I know you love them. Ah, gotta go, bye!” He ended the call quickly with a warm laugh, as bright as the sun. It was dark out, and the city was alive around him like it hadn’t been miles back. Bastien placed his headphones back in, smiling to himself, and he started to hum again.

We’ve waited so damn long, we’re sick and tired / I won’t leave any doubt or stone unturned / I’ve got a collar full of chemistry from your company / so maybe tonight I’ll be the libertine.

(A letter to Richard Johnson, found tucked away in a small box of Sebastien Park’s most treasured belongings. A few pieces of paper, well-creased, obviously read many times. There are scribbles on them, a few tear marks, even signs that they’ve been crumpled up before)

I watched this show once, where this lady’s therapist suggested she write letters to people and only send them if she felt comfortable with it, but she was supposed to be completely and brutally honest with them about how she was feeling. Expressing her emotions and all that jazz. You know I’m not one to hold shit back; it doesn’t do anything for anybody if I do. I’ve never lied to you, Rich, but there are some things I’ve kind of held back.

Germany was amazing. I never thought I’d get to travel like that; kids like me don’t end up jet setters after all, unless we marry rich or sell drugs which I guess I’ve kind of done for myself.

The day I approached you in New York, I’d been hearing whispers. Harvey Johnson’s son. Cronus’ son, back on American soil. You make an impression (there are a few words just barely discernible as 'for fucking sure’ here, but they’ve been scribbled out). You were mostly incognito, but I knew the right people and maybe I was feeling particularly stupid that day, particularly suicidal. So I found you and I sold myself like a piece of meat on the market because I wanted to make something of myself and the others (this word is underlined twice) always left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I was already doing illegal things; why not join a mobster and his would-be mob, yeah?

I’m sorry things turned out the way they did. I’m sorry we came back as an advancing war force instead of some sort of heroes. That’s one of the things I’ve always held back; I never knew my parents but I know some part of you loved your father. I’m sorry you lost him.

I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it to you, but my mom left me in Central Park a day after I was born. People slapped the last name ‘Park’ on me and that was that, y’know? I was a baby no one wanted and when they did want me, they didn’t want to keep me. I got passed to foster homes and my siblings got adopted and I kept getting left behind. You… You never left me behind, Rich. You looked at me and you saw that I was worth something more. You made me believe it, after all the times I’d tried to tell it to myself.

You gave me Germany. You gave me a family, people I’d die for and people that would die for me. Hades, Zeus, neither of those fucks care for their people the way you do, or even at all.

(The next three lines are crossed out so viciously that the pen stabbed through the page. Sebastien knows exactly what he wrote down that day, and he hates himself for putting the words to paper and releasing them into the world.)

So yeah. I guess I’ve said my piece. Don’t know if I’ll ever give you this letter, and honestly I’m considering tearing it into a million pieces now. Better to never let it see the light of day. I just have a few questions, and maybe I’ll ask you them myself someday. Maybe they, like this letter, will stay buried.

Why me? Why Leto?

Signed, Bastien

(setting: Sebastien’s apartment, late night, likely within the last few months)

Sebastien startled awake at the sensation of weight in his bed, blinking down at the bare shoulder next to him. A small smile curled at the corners of his lips, there and gone again as he looked down at Orpheus. He drew in a quick breath, shaking his head before throwing the blankets away from his legs. Orpheus didn’t stir as he slipped from his bedroom, and Bastien sat down on his couch while his hands dragged through his hair. He’d left his glasses here the night before, when he and Orpheus had stumbled in. Bastien left them sitting on the table, hands rubbing across his face.

He didn’t know what he was doing.

Bastien was an idiot, that was well known, at least when it came to things of an emotional nature. His time with Denise and Mikey seemed so far away now, the sensation of being loved almost foreign. But that wasn’t what this was. This was sex, plain and simple. There was nothing wrong with blowing off a little steam. It was like some sort of completely fucked team bonding.

The hitman groaned, sprawling out on his couch. It was getting harder, every time, to want to leave his bed when Orpheus was in it. He didn’t wake up as often anymore, at the sensation of someone else beside him. Orpheus was safe, their scent familiar. They didn’t always leave at first light now; sometimes they stayed and laughed with him in the kitchen as he made breakfast for them both.

A cat landed on his bare chest, and Sebastien hurriedly drew a blanket across his lap; he’d learned that the hard way. Nemo blinked mismatched eyes down at him slowly, and he returned the gesture before he rubbed behind her ears. “What am I doing, huh?” He asked her quietly, startling all over again when an actual voice answered.

“Talking to your cat when you could be in bed, from what I can tell.”

Sebastien sat up quickly, eyes sliding over to where Orpheus stood in the doorway to his bedroom. He hadn’t even heard the door opening, and that was /dangerous/. This was dangerous. They’d slid their pants from the night before back on, and their lips (lips he’d spent the night before kissing until they were swollen, the after effects still showing in the light of the streetlights from outside) sliding up into a smile.

“Should I go? Bad night?”

His first instinct was to say yes. Yes, get out of my house, get out of my life, stop creeping into my head. Then he thought no. No, this is nothing, it’s just sex and they don’t affect me like that.

Bastien smiled, nudging Nemo off of his chest so he could stand and make his way to where they stood. He leaned up, pressing a kiss to their still swollen lips.

Dangerous.

“Why don’t you come back in there with me and help me get back to sleep, huh?” His smile widened into a grin, and Orpheus laughed, tugging him towards the bed.

There was no Eurydice here. For a little while, Sebastien could pretend.