#let's face it morpheus is a visual creature

[just-french-me-up]

Hi, if possible and you are still taking prompts request, could you do number 12 pls? Thanks!

Fandom : The Sandman | 1.5k Pairing : Dream of the Endless x Fem!Nameless!Reader (3rd person, no (Y/N)) Prompt : "The things I want to do to you..." Rating : M/E (Suggestive talk and a heavy dose of seduction more than outright smut) Tags : Established relationship | PWP with feelings | Nada rules : Endless beings and humans cannot have sex in the Waking World, or the Universe shall unleash hell and ruin on said human

Dream of the Endless was no stranger to duty. His own existence was ruled by obligations, endless tasks he had to see through only for them to be completed again, as Sisyphus rolls his boulder up the hill. He had spent countless hours, days, months, years, eras on his own, in the name of duty.

Yet, when it came to his lover's obligations in the Waking World, his regard for duty often weakened. It was selfish of him, he knew it. A little dismissive too, or so she had told him on a few occasions. How could he be blamed, though, when valuable time meant time spent with her? He could not be expected to be pleased to have it shortened.

"When should I expect you back home?" Dream asked, as conversationally as he could.

Home. They had taken to referring to the Dreaming as such, recently. Or rather she had, which pleased him to no end. He never failed to use the word, now. That was the beauty of it. It was a word meant to be shared.

The room he was standing in was in a different home, however. Hers. It was not a place Dream would call his own, but he'd grown familiar with it, attached, almost. He knew where she liked every little trinket, where she sat to bask in the warm afternoon sun, where she preferred to read the morning papers. Every room carried her perfume, as though her presence never truly left these walls.

"I don't know," his lover's voice rose from the bathroom. "Two, three in the morning, perhaps?"

Dream frowned.

"That is quite insufficient for your mind to rest."

"I could squeeze in a nap tomorrow, then," she negotiated. He could hear a smile in her voice. "It will be something of a surprise visit." Sounds continued to emerge from behind the door, drawers being opened and closed, zips being opened. "It's a wedding reception. It's considered rude to leave before the newlyweds."

Humans had such strange traditions. If they could even be called that. Most of them had emerged during his imprisonment, making them traditions in name only, hardly a century old. More of a passing fad than anything else.

The door of the bathroom creaked open. Sometimes, Morpheus wished he needed a beating heart, only to have it stop on such occasions.

Undergarments had come a long way since the beginning of the twentieth century. Gone were chemises and drawers. These days humans favoured tighter fits, less fabric. They were less about warmth and support than aesthetics. For once, Morpheus understood the appeal.

His eyes followed her as she walked past him to reach a full-length mirror. There was something artful about it, in the way her bustier followed the slope of her waist to perfection, drew the curves of her breasts as though it had been tailored to her, and her only. He could feel the invitation of it, the growing desire to feel the fabric under his hands, to have his fingers trace these lines, too.

"Are these not mostly worn for viewing pleasure?" he asked, taking in every inch of fabric, committing them to memory.

She gave him an impish smile through the reflection as she put on her earrings. Dream resisted the urge to brush away her hair to fill her empty neck with his mouth. Oh, she was making this very difficult.

"Mostly, yes."

"Why wear it, then, if it is destined to remain hidden all night?"

She looked over her shoulder, her smile utterly disarming.

"What about my viewing pleasure?"

She turned back to the mirror, her eyes gazing at her own reflection.

"I like wearing it. It makes me feel... I don't know. Strong, I suppose. Confident. Almost like an armour. You have one in the Dreaming, don't you?"

Dream let out an amused huff, his lips drawn into a small smile as he stepped closer to her.

"Nothing quite like this."

His hand caressed her waist, indulging in the naked skin between the fabric of the bustier and the lace of her underwear, his fingertips gently playing with the hem. Never further, they both knew. Not here.

"An armour is meant to intimidate your enemies, not draw them to you."

"Good thing you're not my enemy, then."

He smiled against her shoulder, leaving a kiss on her skin. Her breathing was faster now, her pulse as well, he could feel it. She might not be aware herself, but he knew. Her skin was warmer under his lips than it was a second ago.

"The armour isn't complete yet," she told him, looking at him through the reflection of the mirror.

"Oh?"

She smoothly escaped his touch, his fingertips sliding across her lower back as she moved away. She picked up two delicate things from the chest of drawers left open and prompted one of her legs on the bed, under Dream's watchful eye.

"I see," he chuckled lightly. "Greaves."

He drank in the sight of her unrolling the fabric along her leg up to her upper thigh once, then twice, her fingers careful not to scratch the material. They were fragile things, or so he had learnt recently, after accidentally ruining a handful of those, some instances less accidental than others.

Connecting the bustier with the stockings came with somewhat of a struggle. He watched her as she tried and failed to attach the suspenders, her nails sliding against the end.

"Allow me."

Morpheus sat on the bed next to her. Slowly, his hands travelled along her leg, memorising the fabric, the way it felt, the way it glided under his fingertips. He wanted to remember it all, down to the last detail, so he could make a perfect copy of it, back home. One of his hands stopped at the lace at the top of the stocking, while the other reached further, purposefully caressing the skin of her upper thigh to catch the stray suspender. She shivered under his touch, and the temptation to keep going almost overtook him.

His movements were meticulous, precise. Once the suspender attached, Morpheus leant back, giving her space to settle her other leg next to him. All the while, he could feel her eyes upon him, though he only met them once the task was done. She didn't need an armour, nor any weapon for that matter. She could undo him with a single glance.

His lips brushed the skin of her inner thigh, right above the hem of the stocking. Her warmth was inviting, beckoning him to come closer. His mouth opened into a languid kiss, the taste of her skin on his tongue. Her pulse was there, under him, throbbing against his lips. The sigh he heard overhead only encouraged him, but ultimately, reason won.

"You are impossible," she whispered as he looked up. There was a slight mark on her skin where his lips had been. It seemed lonely there. It took all of Dream's resolve not to make another.

"Impossible enough for you to change your evening plans?"

She chuckled, shaking her head gently. At least he had tried. She ran a hand through his hair, her touch as revering as his had been. His own hands had a will of their own, drawing the shape of her hips, stroking her thighs. It became harder, then, to keep his desire at bay, to respect the clear boundaries the Universe had set for them.

"The things I want to do to you," he sighed, his fingertips digging into her flesh.

"Morpheus," she warned softly.

"I want you like this," he continued, his eyes looking into hers, unbothered by the lust she could see in them. "I want to have you like this. I want you above me so I can watch you unravel in this, all of you."

He could feel her body respond to him, leaning closer. Her hand cupped his jaw, her thumb following the line of his lips. He ran his tongue over it, for good measure.

"I want you to come on my tongue, again and again, until your thighs can't hold you up anymore."

Heat radiated from her skin, warming his own. His finger ran the length of one of the suspenders, as though testing its elasticity.

"I want to rip this to shreds and build it up again. For you."

"Later," she whispered, her cheeks flushed, a playful spark burning in her eyes.

A promise. She was ever so good at keeping them. She pulled away, depriving him of her warmth, to go slip on a dress of her choosing.

"Will you be waiting for me tonight, at home?"

"Avidly," he promised, his gaze detailing her thoroughly.

"Should I expect to be wearing any proper clothes at all?"

"Not if I have a say in the matter. Which I do."

"Sounds fair enough."

Morpheus stood up and took her hand, pressing a kiss against it.

"Do enjoy your evening, love of mine."

"My evening? Not my night?" she teased.

"Nights are my domain. Trust me, I will make it nothing but pleasant. You have provided quite the inspiration."

"My pleasure."

"Oh, it shall be."

Send me a smutty prompt? (open for promptmas)

[kirain]

More kids movies! More kids movies! These are my childhood!!!!

How about a top ten list of animated non-Disney films, since I tend to enjoy them more?

1. The Iron Giant

This was one of my favourite movies as a kid, and nothing about it is dated. No matter how advanced we get in animation and story-telling, I can’t imagine The Iron Giant ever losing its relevancy. The story follows a young boy named Hogarth, who lives with his single mother in 1957 America during the height of the Cold War. As Hogarth is a bit of a nerd and “poindexter”, he’s often bullied at school and doesn’t have any friends. That is, not until a giant robot seemingly falls out of space. Hogarth becomes its first human contact and comes to rely on him in order to survive. While Hogarth works to keep the giant’s existence a secret from the government, their bond strengthens as they experience life through childish innocence.

2. The Secret of NIMH

I think I mentioned before that I don’t like movies with anthropomorphic animals, but there are always exceptions. NIMH is one of those exceptions, and is in fact one of my favourite children’s movies/books ever made. The story follows a common field mouse named Mrs. Brisby, who’s only goal is to protect her beloved children. As she lives on a farm, she must soon move her children to avoid plowing season; however, her youngest son becomes bedridden with pneumonia. Her family friend and doctor, Mr. Ages, tells her that her son must stay inside or risk death– but if she can’t move they will all be in danger. As such, Mr. Ages tells her to seek out the rats of NIMH, a pack of escaped genetically mutated lab rats who live in a nearby rosebush. He explains that with their heightened intelligence, they might be able to devise a way to move her whole house, and that since her late husband Johnathan was one of them, they’ll likely feel obligated. When she seeks them out, however, she stumbles onto a mess of conspiracies, power struggles, and murder most foul.

3. The Pagemaster

Definitely dated and not the nicest animation, but an amazing children’s story nonetheless. The Pagemaster is a movie about a young boy named Richard Tyler who lives his life based on statistics and fears literally everything. One night, during a thunderstorm, he wanders into a huge library where he meets a strange librarian. While the man tries to figure out what kind of books Richard likes, all Richard can think about is getting home. When the librarian fails to trigger Richard’s basically nonexistent imagination, he sends the boy on a wild goose-chase through the massive bookshelves to find a phone so he can call his parents. While searching, he slips and hits his head, then wakes up in the form of an illustration. In this new world, he befriends three living books, Horror, Adventure, and Fantasy, whom he works with to face several trials before he can return home. The overall message of this movie teaches children to face their fears, believe in themselves, and enjoy their childhood while they have it.

4. The Road to El Dorado

My favourite unlikely tale of two Spaniards who set out to find the lost city of El Dorado. One craves adventure, the other craves gold. This fun little travel-comedy shows children the consequences of lying and greed. When Miguel and Tulio manage to traverse a dangerous jungle and find the great City of Gold, they pose as Gods to trick the natives into forgiving their trespass. Spoiled, pampered, worshipped, all seems to be going well for our “heroes”, until a real threat emerges and they struggle to save face. How long until their farce is discovered, and how many people will they hurt along the way?

5. Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron

Essentially, Spirit is a movie about severe animal cruelty and how horses were treated during the construction of the railroad in the middle of the grisly Indian Wars. A nameless horse, dubbed “Spirit” by a Lakota boy, is captured by some American wranglers in an attempt to be domesticated. Strong-willed and stubborn, Spirit does whatever he can to defy his captors, eventually escaping with the help of the aforementioned Lakota boy, Little Creek. His newfound freedom is short-lived, however, because the boy’s tribesmen appear, tie him up, and take him to their camp. There he meets a beautiful mare named Rain, who attempts to show him how well animals are treated among the natives. Despite the softer and kinder approaches, however, Spirit refuses to be ridden and only longs for his freedom. It just goes to show that no matter how tame a creature may become, it deserves to run wild.

6. Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland

Looking back on this movie, I admit that the plot is somewhat messy, but it’s still a solid children’s movie that’s sure to bolster their imagination. Little Nemo is a story about a young boy who experiences bizarre dreams. It’s never known why, until one night he’s taken to a magical kingdom called Slumber Land. It’s here that he meets King Morpheus and Princess Camille, who tell him that he is ordained to become the new prince. Without much explanation, Nemo is entrusted with a key that keeps the evil Lord of Nightmares sealed behind a giant, mystical door and told to protect it. Unfortunately, a local troublemaker named Flip convinces Nemo to open the door, and the nightmares spill out, shrouding Slumber Land in darkness. Determined to fix his mistake, Nemo and friends set out to Nightmare Land to find the evil king and put a stop to him forever. The animation, colours, music, and visuals make this movie quite compelling, and I’d recommend watching it at least once.

7. Balto

Balto is a wonderful tale based on a true story. Balto is a shunned half-breed from the small Alaskan town of Nome, where no one (man or dog) is willing to trust him because they believe his wolf blood makes him dangerous. One day, however, a little girl named Rosie shows him kindness when he prevents her new hat from being squished during a sled race. He leaps in the way and grabs it just in time. In thanks, Rosie pets him, compliments him, and lets him pull her sled– until her father kicks him away. Sadly, a few days later, Rosie is hospitalised with diphtheria, a horrible disease that killed many children in the winter of 1925. Due to severe whirling snowstorms, the train carrying the antitoxin to save Rosie, and countless other children, is halted. It cannot be transported by air or vehicle either. As such, the people of Nome devise a race to find the fastest dogs, which will join the sled team that will risk everything to retrieve the medicine on foot. Balto wins, but is once again shunned when the musher realises he’s part wolf. Balto is left behind, but soon gets word that the sled team fell off the grid, taking the serum with them. Determined to save Rosie and the other innocent children, Balto sets out to find the team and bring them home. Naturally, this movie is about prejudice, and not judging people based on their heritage.

8. FernGully: The Last Rainforest

Definitely one for the environmentalists, FernGully is a movie about a young fairy name Crysta who lives in a stunning rain forest that’s been untouched by man for centuries. Naive and curious about humans, Crysta flies off and encounters a vile construction zone where a young city boy named Zak is cutting down trees. When he sees her, he attempts to catch her, thinking she’s some bizarre bug he’s never seen, but in doing so gets distracted. A large tree begins to fall, and in order to save him from getting crushed, Crysta shrinks him down to her size and flies him out of the way. Soon, Zak gets pulled into her world, where he learns the value of nature– but by the time he figures it out it’s too late. His employers cut down a sacred tree and release Hexxus, a man-made embodiment of pollution whom the fairies locked away centuries ago. In order to save the forest, Crysta and Zak must work together to stop Hexxus and the lumberjacks before there’s nothing left.

9. A Troll In Central Park

A Troll in Central Park is one of those rare gems that few people seem to have heard of, but it’s a fantastic children’s movie nonetheless. The story focuses on Stanley, a troll with a green thumb who’s been driven underground because humans have ruined the surface with buildings and bridges and roads. Fearful of humans, he tries to avoid them at all costs, until one day an infant named Rosie falls into his hidey-hole. Desperate to stop her crying, he shares his magic and begins to sprout colourful plants left and right. Just when Stanley begins to think he may have judged humans too harshly, Rosie’s older brother Gus tracks them down and begins to destroy the place. Seeing how angry Gus is at his parents (who are often away at work), Stanley instead decides to teach Gus the importance of happiness, forgiveness, and beauty. The story does take a very dark turn, hoever, when Gnorga, Queen of the Trolls, attempts to kill Stanley, as she believes trolls are meant to be crude and callous. I don’t want to spoil too much, but I honestly can’t do this movie justice. I highly recommended it to anyone and especially to anyone with children. They’ll love it.

10. We’re Back! A Dinosaur’s Story

This movie is weird. Even when I was a child I thought it was weird, and as an adult … I still can’t come up with a better word to describe it. It’s a weird blend of magic and science, past and future, dinosaurs and humans. It’s just weird. But it was also one of my favourite movies as a kid, and one that I watched over and over with no regrets. The plot follows a group of four dinosaurs who are brought back from the past by a crazy scientist who invented time travel. With a special cereal, he domesticates these otherwise murderous giants and gives them human-like features. When he releases them into the streets of New York, they quickly become the talk of the town, and befriend a lonely young urchin boy named Louie and a neglected rich girl named Cecilia. Joy abounds, until the children run into a creepy old man named Professor Screweyes, who seeks to revert the dinosaurs back to their prehistoric form and use them to terrify others. To be completely honest, there could be countless meanings to this movie, or really none at all. Either way, it’s a movie I highly recommend to anyone who might be looking for a little something extra in their kid’s movies. After all, it’s really weird.

[jflashandclash]

The Fall of the Sun: Traitors of Olympus

Six: Alabaster

A Sunny Promenade Where Everyone Wants to Kill Me

             When Alabaster left Cabin Eleven, his cheeks felt like they were on fire. The jeering from the Hermes occupants shouldn’t have bothered him so much—they were children that likely didn’t know that allegations of cooties actually meant that one had a parasitic bug infestation. Something else must have been unsettling him, and, in this particular case, beyond the fact that he was in Camp Half-Blood and NOT destroying the son of Poseidon, he suspected it was his attachment to Kally.

           Everyone close to him warned him that he was reckless: his mother, Axel, Luke, and Claymore.

           But, suffering from a severe infatuation after two real encounters? And acting on that infatuation? Eros and Aphrodite might as well come out of hiding to bow for applause. He did not like being their puppet and letting them distract him from what he should have been focusing on.

           His heartbeat thudded inside his head, his lips tingled, and he could still smell Kally’s scent beneath the sweat and blood: a shampoo or soap with mint and eucalyptus undertones. He could perfectly visualize the hope and excitement on her face when she spoke of a third camp, one not Roman or Greek.

           Maybe it wasn’t just Aphrodite and Eros.

           He didn’t have time to think about that right now, or whether or not one could love without the influence of those gods. He and Axel had discussed it before. Both of them liked to think someone could still fall in love without godly meddling, but that could have been their stubbornness clinging to independence from the gods.

           Alabaster felt a little nauseous to think that Axel had probably been referencing his love for the praetor during those conversations. Had he really been interested in her for that long?

           Alabaster didn’t have time for this. He should have been focusing on his transit in enemy territory.

           Most campers didn’t pay him heed. They seemed to think he was a mysterious Roman unit. The daughter of Ares and Rodriguez had gained more control over the camp. The Greek chaos had become more organized.

           As Alabaster walked past the other cabins, readily identifying to which god they belonged, he heard the chatter of units scurrying by,            

           “—counselor meeting outside the boundary—“

           “—true about Percy? Is he really—”

           “—Jason can barely walk. Anyone hear what happened to h—”

           Another set of campers, this one equipped with medical kits, a stretcher, and stethoscopes—likely Kally’s siblings—raced past.

           “—five dead campers. Each from a different cabin.”

           “It’s like someone systematically—”

           “—ghosts did some serious damage to the Roman—”

           “—Chiron still not up—”

           He stopped outside the cabin with the eerie glow of green torches: Cabin Twenty. There were spells inscribed on each stone, although half of it was gibberish that Alabaster readily identified as Minoan, likely written by Lou Ellen. One of the stones read something like, They think I’ll turn people into a tree, but really I explode glitter. The black tome-like doors were enormous and took up most of the façade.

           Originally, Alabaster had planned to map this out, so he could return from the Big House and restock here.

           Staring at Hecate’s cabin, he felt himself tremble in rage.

           He couldn’t go inside.

           As part of the deal to pardon Hecate for her involvement in the Titan’s War, Alabaster had been banned from Camp Half-Blood and from “polluting” the minds of his siblings. If he went inside, he’d have to accept that it would only ever be once and only because the barrier was down. He’d have to accept what few siblings he had left had been tricked into worshipping the corruption of Olympus.

           Although he told himself it didn’t bother him, that he didn’t care how a group of Olympic-lovers would live, that he had no business seeing how his siblings thrived, Alabaster learned he wasn’t as indifferent as he had hoped. He didn’t want to see what he could never have again.[1]

           Alabaster shook his head, writing the weakness off as exhaustion. He reached into his pocket to withdraw a Reese’s Stick that he’d swiped from Pax. The wrapper crinkled as he tossed the candy into the torch fire. This was a measly sacrifice. He’d have rather given Percy’s head, but this would have to do.

           While the green flames wicked around the bars, crackling into sickly, black smoke, he prayed, Mother, Morpheus, please grant the Pax brothers peace and distraction in their slumber. You owe them that at least. And… Alabaster bit his lip. And, please grant this to Kalypso Kassand, the daughter of Apollo.

           The dark tendrils twisted into the face of a winking man before being dusted by the breeze. At least Alabaster knew Morpheus heard him.  

           “I think I modeled if off of your laboratory,” someone said beside him.

           Alabaster caught a girl’s hand in mid-reach towards his nose. Although she hadn’t started the incantation, Alabaster could feel the Mist build up for something like a limb removal.

           When he glared at her, that piercing headache returned.

           Lou Ellen mimicked his wince of pain. Those brilliant green eyes, the same shade as his, twinkled playfully and painfully as he shoved her hand away.

           Alarm sank Alabaster’s stomach when he couldn’t remember what she had just said. Something about this cabin’s construction? From the blank stare of her pale face, she had a similar absentmindedness. Or she was an idiot. But, their previous team up and Alabaster’s instinct told him that Lou Ellen was no one to underestimate.

           “I was hoping you could restock me once I get back from the Big House, so I can defend myself when other stray gods decide to attack me.” Which, he figured, would happen to him statistically more often than the average demigod-to-god conflict. “Before I approach the main building, what defenses should I be aware of or what traps might I trigger?”

           If nothing else, at least this trip would be excellent for collecting intel on Camp Half-Blood’s defenses.

           “Um, this is a camp for teenagers,” she said, like his question was unwarranted.

           “Yes, and Guantanamo Bay is a playground for adults.”

           Lou Ellen took a step towards the Big House and grabbed his arm, like he was escorting her down a street in Victorian England and she’d be helpless in the case she was attacked without her older brother. Something about Lou Ellen screamed that she would want some poor idiot to try attacking them in a situation like that.

           He was confused and annoyed by her escort until he saw why: a Roman soldier had met up with Clarisse on her way away from the cabins with several other—Alabaster assumed—counselors. They were talking and the Roman was pointing to him.

           Lou Ellen made him walk faster towards the Big House.

           “I’m not sure they finished building it, but Pax had jumpstarted a project with the Stoll brothers, Matthias, and Jake to make a rapid-rotate ramp that will activate when Chiron’s wheelchair hits it, so as to rocket him into the Big House with uncontrollable speed.”

           “The centaur has a wheel chair?” Alabaster asked skeptically. He vaguely remembered a rumor about this, but had chalked it up to Pax’s nonsense.

           When they approached the Big House, Alabaster was stunned by its lack of grandeur and its rustic simplicity. The four-story country house was painted blue with white accents. In the morning light, the wrap-around porch looked homey and quaint. Not the home to a God of Madness and the trainer of blind killers.

           He could almost see why everyone bought into this trash.

           “When he’s not a centaur. I mean, why would a centaur need a chair?” she asked as they walked past the dangling dryad wind chimes. “The stairs you’re looking for are past the parlor and down the hall. I might have overheard Chris and known the area to be a prime territory for casting spells to curse the Demeter Cabin.”

           She released his arm at the door, near an outside table set for a card game. Once again, he had to bat her hand away from removing his. Somehow, he knew she’d try limb removal every chance she got.

           “Thank you,” he said. Although he’d fought beside this Greek, she didn’t owe him anything. Even if they did somehow know each other from the past, he was still surprised that she treated him more like an equal and a friend than a former enemy.

           She laughed sadly. “I mean, you’re a stiff, but you’re still my brother. And there aren’t a lot of children of Hecate left.” She glanced at one of the dryad wind chimes as it rotated into something else. “I feel like there were once a lot more…”

           “There were.” Alabaster preferred not to think about how popular his mother was with mortals and other creatures. And he didn’t want to think about what happened to his other siblings.

           Lou Ellen shook her head, her black hair shuddering. Her smile brightened and Alabaster couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d be great friends with Pax. “I need to go check on Miranda again and mess with her while she’s out. We can’t have everyone acting too serious right now. But uh, make sure Axel is okay. I think…” She rubbed her forehead, grimacing. “I… I think I used to have a thing for him.”

           Alabaster snorted out a laugh. “You and every other girl or monster at Camp Othrys.”

           They laughed. A wave of nostalgic irritation hit Alabaster and he could distinctly remember removing a much younger Lou Ellen’s tongue so she’d stop gushing about his older friend, only to have her post Axel’s band pictures all over Alabaster’s laboratory.

           Pain shot through his temple.

           Both of them cried out.

           “We have got to clear this up with Mom,” he said.

           “Yea,” she agreed. “Well, until then. Don’t die in there!” She waved him off and stepped off the porch.

           “Don’t die out here,” he said, another wave of nostalgia hitting him.

           When Alabaster stepped inside, he found the interior similar to the exterior—charming and old-fashioned. There was a fireplace and another table set up. Grape vines ran along the walls, reminding Alabaster that Dionysus normally lived here.

           A sense of pervasive unwelcome screamed at him to leave.

           Alabaster would have liked to breeze through the room after a brief, defensive sweep, but he saw two people in the corner that made him pause.

           Well, a centaur and a person.

           The centaur lay on the ground. An empty glass sat upright beside him near a stain in the carpet. There was a Party Ponies blanket covering most of his horse-half and part of his button-down shirt. A pillow was shoved under his thinning, brown hair.

           Beside the centaur, crouched ready for an attack, was a curly-haired blond demigod with narrowed violet eyes. For an instant, Alabaster thought the demigod was Dionysus himself, but knew he was mistaken by the way the boy’s hands trembled around a xiphos sword.

           “Prometheus told me that you’d come,” said the demigod, “After he put the monster in the basement.”

           That monster. Axel must have still been wearing his Leonis Caput helm. Alabaster refused to believe this could be an ambush set up by Prometheus. There would be no point in saving the Pax brothers in the first place if he wanted to end the Triple A Chimera later.

           “He also wanted me to tell you that it would be unwise to attack us,” he finished.

           Us.

           Alabaster glanced down at the centaur. Killing Chiron would be easy right now, the trainer of Percy and a line of other Olympic henchmen.  As an ease on his consciousness, Alabaster wouldn’t even have to kill this demigod. Somewhere on him, he must have had a disarming rune left.

           That was why Prometheus left the message. The gods would just replace Chiron. Their tyranny would continue. And Alabaster would shatter what fragile peace allowing the Triple A Chimera and their friends at this camp and make everyone more vulnerable to Eris’ next attack.

           Alabaster sighed. “I’m not here to fight.”

           The demigod’s shoulders relaxed. Clearly, he wasn’t either. “We’re going to be taking shifts to watch over Chiron and Argus until they wake up,” he explained, as though to say don’t change your mind. That sword stayed posed for a defense. “You and that monster… you were at the Battle of the Labyrinth, weren’t you?”

           From the age of this demigod, this boy would have been old enough to be part of the battle. Alabaster nodded his head. “Yes. It was a disaster.”

           The demigod nodded down the hallway. “That monster, the one Prometheus brought in…” He swallowed. “He crushed my twin brother’s, Castor’s, head at that battle.”

           Alabaster stared. Everyone knew there were causalities on both sides. But, the emotion was still raw in this boy’s red-rimmed eyes. Alabaster had never spoken to an enemy soldier about it. There was no theology here and no argument over government or godly rule. Just a dead sibling, like the ones that Alabaster lost.

           “I’m sorry for your loss,” Alabaster said.

           They examined one another for a moment longer. Had this boy wanted to, he could have come down the hall and killed Axel to get revenge. From Pax’s description of the situation, Alabaster doubted that Axel would have defended himself, or at least not defended himself well.

           With a sense of unease, Alabaster. continued past the parlor, down the hall. He tried to ignore the feeling of that boy’s eyes. At the end, he found the stairs, and the door behind them, slightly ajar. “Axel? Claymore?” he called to alert them to his presence.

           The reek of smoke stung his nose when he pushed the door completely open. With the daylight and hallway light spilling down the stairs, Alabaster could see the reflective gleam of two golden eyes above the crimson glow of a cigarette. In the corner, amongst the silhouettes of crates, jars, and other storage containers, a pile of imperial armor glistened.

           Claymore stood on the last step, his arms folded, leaning against the banister.

           Each step creaked as Alabaster leveled with him. The air grew chilly.

           “Your friend isn’t exactly the chattiest of company,” Claymore said.

           “Thank you for checking on him.”

           “A lot of good it did,” Claymore said, sounding more pensive than annoyed. Before Alabaster could ask him to, Claymore stepped up the stairs. “I’ll give you two a moment. I’m sure I’ll find the young gentleman by the horse even more uplifting.”

           Once Claymore exited the stairwell, Alabaster sat on the bottom step. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the lack of lighting, he could better see Axel. The older boy sat on the concrete floor and leaned back against a crate labeled Strawberry Preserves—A Divine Delight! His knees were pulled up, so he could rest his elbows on them and dangle his hands between his legs. Everything but his boxers must have been in the corner of the room.[2]  

           All Axel’s injuries from the past twelve hours were on display with a few additions Alabaster didn’t remember. There was the new scar where they said Kouta shot him in the shoulder. Bruise marks covered his chest from Percy’s hosing. Claw marks decorated his arms that—from the angle—Alabaster would have guessed were self-inflicted. In the center of Axel’s chest, above his heart, was a raw gash, one he hadn’t cleaned yet. Alabaster wondered, though doubted, whether or not Pax had given him that in defense.

           Axel’s reflective eyes were distant, rimmed red, and had dark circles. His tufted ears sat in a neutral position. The cigarette pinched between his lips had an inch of untapped ash dangling limply from the end.  

           “Ajax is asleep,” Alabaster said. “I gave him some of my pills. Kally passed out beside him while she was healing his hand.”

           Alabaster continued to update Axel on what little he knew about Percy’s position as King of Saturnalia, the camp’s condition, and the potential counselor meeting.

           The unease Alabaster felt earlier clenched his stomach tightly. Alabaster hadn’t seen this strategist slouch during their time at Camp Othrys, let alone sit in the dark, mostly-naked, nonreactive to any information…

           Until then, Alabaster didn’t realize how emotive Axel was when formulating a plan. Alabaster wished Axel would narrow his golden eyes in thought, twitch his ears at bad news, or clench his jaw. Something.

           After Alabaster finished talking, the ash fell from Axel’s cigarette, feeding a pile between his knees.

           “Thank you,” Axel said softly, “for checking on Ajax.”

           As if there had been any other option for Alabaster.

           Alabaster frowned. “He tends to be hopeless on his own.”

           In all the replays of Alabaster’s nightmares, he hadn’t realistically considered how Axel would react after attacking—or being forced to attack—his little brother.

           For some reason, Alabaster always assumed Axel would be enraged.

           “Euna isn’t with you,” Alabaster said, wanting something to trigger inside Axel, instead of the nothingness in his eyes.

           Axel didn’t even shrug. “I assume she’s still going towards Tartarus with Jack.”

           The ash met the filter on Axel’s cigarette. His lips released, dropped it into the pile, still smoldering. Without looking, Axel reached behind him, to the side of the crate, where there was a box of cigarettes and a lighter. He tapped one out, lifted the thin cylinder to his lips, and reflexively cupped one hand around the end, like there was a breeze that might snuff out the flame. No breeze or movement came but the subtle flick of flame. The basement was still and cold.

           Alabaster had to wonder where he got those at this camp.

           When Axel was done, he set everything behind him and folded his legs pretzel style, ignoring how his calf crushed the still-glowing filter on the ground. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees again. “What was the point? Ajax and I gave three years of our lives, our childhoods, to fighting for Kronos. You gave even more. We watched good soldiers and friends die. Your family. I traded my consciousness to become a symbol of power and fear.”

           His golden eyes flicked to the discarded pile of armor in the corner.

           “Eris was right. Kronos’ army kept us safe from Santiago until we were old enough to confront him—as if we were enough to take him.” He grunted. “But… those gods… those tyrants we fought to dethrone are still there. Powerful enough that they could just… puppet me to brutalize one of the only things that matters in my life.”

           Slowly, Axel’s eyes met Alabaster’s. Again, he asked, with the dull, hopelessness of knowing he wouldn’t get a response, “What was the point?”

           This question had plagued Alabaster since the Battle of Manhattan. He’d sat in Dr. Cenotes’ office, staring at the hideous paintings on the therapist’s walls, wishing any answer would satisfy him. He’d screamed in his mother’s alter room, where she prayed to some mysterious, higher power, wanting an all-powerful deity to grace him with an acceptable answer, or at least verify that his feelings of helplessness and purposelessness were justified.

           At least Lamia’s attempts at his life had kept him busy. As had babysitting a manic, grieving Jack. As had his and Claymore’s research.

           But, confronted with Axel’s hollow gaze, the question extended to more than the war.

           “You’re alive,” Alabaster said. The words and sudden desperation in the pit of his stomach surprised him. “You, Ajax, and I—we’re all alive still. We may not feel like it, but we’re going to have to act like it for Ajax’s sake and our own.”

           He thought about Kally’s hopefulness and her suggestion to make a new camp.

           “We have to make a new home and build a new purpose,” he said, not sure he’d committed to the idea until the words came out.

           Axel gave an empty laugh. “No gods. No kings,” he quoted something the two of them had agreed upon a long time ago.[3] “How long do you think that will last?”

           “It doesn’t matter. There isn’t another option. Giving up isn’t an option. For people like you and I, it never has been and never will be. Breaking us is exactly what the gods want right now.”

           “Look who has become the riling lieutenant,” Axel teased weakly.

           Alabaster was relieved to see Axel’s eyes focus and crinkle with the tiniest hint of pride.

           “Shut up,” Alabaster said, rolling his eyes. He picked up the Leonis Caput helm and held it out to Axel. “Now come on. Let’s take something that symbolized power and fear and turn it into something else.”

           Axel’s bronze skin took on a sickly hue. “I will follow you up those stairs, but I am going to throw up if I try to put that on right now. And I do not want to be wearing a helmet with throw up in it.”

           For an awkward moment, Alabaster paused. He was so accustomed to Axel’s complete self-composure; he had forgotten the older boy would still be in shock. Quickly, he withdrew the helm and latched it onto his belt. He’d never noticed how much heavier the Leonis Caput was than his or Ajax’s helmets.

           After another moment, he gathered Axel’s Nemean Lion cloak. Axel swallowed and strapped back on his pteruges, his Mayan bracers, and his grieves. Alabaster helped him up and the two of them started up the stairs.

           “Where are we going?” Axel asked.

           Logic dictated that they should gather Pax and get into the Paxmobile before the Romans gained full awareness of exactly who they were. However, Alabaster was exhausted and knew there was no way they could get Pax out of here without a fight. Judging from the way Axel trembled as he walked up the stairs, Axel was even in worse shape, especially considering the onset of traumatic stress.

           They needed to do something very important before they could go to a demigod meeting, defend the camp, decide to help attack it, or strategize how to collect Percy’s head.             “We’re going to get you some clothing,” Alabaster said, “So Lou Ellen doesn’t squeal when she sees you with your shirt off.”

           “Excuse me?” Axel asked, clearly baffled as to why his lack of clothing would cause Alabaster’s annoying little sister alarm.

           “And then we’re going to find you somewhere safe to catnap. I didn’t sacrifice one of Pax’s Reese’s Sticks to Morpheus for a solid nap just to hear Pax whine about it being wasted later.”

           Despite their situation, Axel gave a near-genuine laugh. “You’re not letting me get out of that, are you?”

           “Do you want to hear your little brother whine?” Alabaster asked.

           Axel sighed sadly. “I’d be happy to.”            

 Thank you guys for the read! Some of my favorite chapters in this story are Alabaster chapters. What do you guys think? I hope you enjoyed this! Tune in next week for chapter seven: Maari:Diffusing the Aura of Strife and good luck to everyone heading back to school!

Footnotes:

[1] Mel’s Betacomment: “D: why do all your characters need such giant hug piles?”

Jack response: “Because the more I like a character, the worse things I do to them. It’s a societally acceptable version of masochism :D” (Also, she knows I’m WAY nicer to these characters than the ones in my others series XD)

[2] Mel’s Betacomment: “WHY YOU GOTTA MAKE AXEL SOUND HOT RIGHT NOW??? HE SHOULD BE SAD AND MOPEY AND UNATTRACTIVE LIKE PAX AND INSTEAD I'M GOING, WOW THAT'S HOT. WHAT EVEN!!! XDDD”

Jack’s response: I have none. I just needed to share this with the readers XD

[3] Name the reference! Either the philosophical one, or the video game.