Persephone merely shook her head, a grin remaining on her features to prove her obvious amusement at his words — voicing his opinion on his view of the stars. “You boys are quite proud about your astronomy, aren’t you? Isn’t a topic I’d like to wave in front of his nose. I can only attempt to imagine what the demotion of one’s planet would do to a Gods ego, especially among the other deities.” She commented with a slight grin, her tone teasing and laced with humour.
A slight but forced smile remains on her lips at his next words, a sigh escaping her as her shoulders raise in response. “I suppose we’ve never been the number one pair to begin with.” She commented simply, although she knew such words would not go over as a shock to him — everyone knew the story of the King and Queen of the Underworld. “He does try for me, and for that I am very grateful. But sometimes I do feel as if to succumb entirely to his affections is such a traitorous thing to do…” She had never been one to hold a grudge; but the deprivation of half her life was something she would not easily let go, especially when it could have been properly avoided.
Leaning over slightly, she pressed against her visitors side, temple relaxing against his upper arm. “Thank you for coming to visit me, I know I’ve told you already — but you’ve no idea how much it means to me.”
"No, no, no no no,” Hermes insists. Takes her by the shoulder and stares right into her dark, dark eyes, making certain that she’s being attentive. “Babe, no. This should not be a Stockholm Syndrome thing! Hades isn’t a bad guy!” Hermes is aware that unsavoury things could be going on behind closed doors, but he’s never been given a reason for suspicion. Hades is misunderstood sometimes, yes—but certainly not awful.
The god tucks a stray curl back behind Persephone’s ear; rubs her cheek with his thumb while he’s at it. “You’ve got to make the most of what you’ve got. I’m sure he tries to be a good husband. Who wouldn’t, for you?”
He wears a satisfied smile as he leans back in his seat and again picks up his teacup. “And so what if it’s a little dreary down here? They have hydroponic greenhouses these days.”
"No sir," Im muttered, wrapping her fingers around the steering wheel, "Hands are staying put. No waving about at all." Glancing in her rearview mirror again on habit, she failed to be startled by the nothing that continued to follow her.
"Eh, should be a few days until I’m done up here, then, hm—" She did some quick calculations, foot slowly pressing down as the needle gauging her speed inched upwards, "—about a days drive, but I’ll let you know as I get—shit—" The phone slipped from her hand as she yanked the wheel, narrowly missing a small rabbit that had decided to make it’s appearance in the middle of the road.
Reaching down, she eyed the road carefully, hand searching for the phone before grabbing and putting it to her ear. “I should probably not be chattin’ while I’m goin’ eighty. I’ll talk to you when I’m clear of Montana?
"Hands are staying put now, dear. I know a lie when I hear it.” Hermes is patient with her when he hears the phone hit something and after that, a pause. When Im returns she doesn’t mention running over any pedestrians, which is really all that’s important.
"Yes, don’t make a habit of it," he agrees. "Talk to you later. I’ll let you know where I’m staying. ‘Til then."
[[ I’m down with a lot of things, so I’m going to say sure.
On the off chance that your character is from the Percy Jackson universe, I’m only vaguely familiar, so please bear that in mind. ]]
“You don’t need to be so gentle,” she says from the pillows and the flow of rippled bedsheets. Wearing an off-shoulder shirt two sizes too big and two decades from printing.
Hermes fails to see her point from across the room. At the little worktable, sipping morning coffee. There’s a mark under her jawline bruising purple. One to match under his collar.
“That… I don’t know.” Im waves her arm, trying to pitch a meaning Hermes’ way, but it falls useless to the mattress.
“Is this a, ‘it wasn’t mindblowing unless I can’t move the morning after’ thing?”
“Ah.” Hermes smiles and taps a couple idle fingers against the paper coffee cup. “Yeah, I hear that a lot. So, in the interest of asking, are you talking rough sex or whips and chains? Would you like coffee, by the way? There’s another package here.”
Im swats her falling hair away from her face. “Please.” She shuffles over the bedside table for her brush. “Rough sex, mostly.”
“Because I can kink it up,” Hermes interjects. “There was that one time with Khione.”
“Do I want to know?”
“She had twins. Only one of them was mine. Apollo makes some gorgeous faces when he—”
“Less talking. More coffee.”
"Personally, I’ve never been a big fan of coffee anyway." The brunette commented, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she spoke. "I’ve tried to convince him that it is probably not exactly good for him to rely on a beverage for increasing amounts of energy — especially one that tastes so bleak and ultimately disgusting, but he does not listen to me." She stated simply, a sigh passing her lips, a slight cringe occupying her features for a brief second as she dwelt on the thought of such an awful taste. "I suppose me and you are quite different than him, though." She commented with a light nudge and obvious smirk.
She stirs the liquid tentatively, carefully adding a bit of honey and milk to the mixture and staring into the cup. “He’s not around much, to be honest, I’d be more surprised if you’d mentioned seeing him on your way down.” She said the words softly, a touch of remorse behind her light tone as she forced a gentle laugh. “I suppose it’s not be easy to be in charge of the dead.” Although the male’s next comment sparked a genuine smile or her threateningly solemn features, a delicate giggle passing her lips. “I do like that one, although of course not to his face — and he was actually quite bitter about the whole planet scenario, blow to the ego… probably a sore subject if you ask.”
"No, look, how long’s Pluto the planet been around? I’m pretty sure it was discovered 1930 or thereabouts. That’s not terribly long. But, I do understand,” he sing-songs the statement, and his voice is rarely a bore to listen to despite his frequent chatter. “You grow attached, right? Like we love our dedicated cities. Well, for those of us who have them.” God of the open road, with markers on the wayside. He does prefer piles of stones to stuffy temple space. But Stilbon, his lovely gleaming Stilbon, flung around the sun with frenzied energy, a thing of change and thought and swiftness—he would not trade that elusive orb of iron and silicon for anything, not in a million years.
Hermes sets his cup down so as not to be tempted by the steaming tea further. He cups his chin in his palm and looks at Persephone as would a dealer in marvellous antiquities. “Now that’s a pity, dear, an honest and horrible pity. Deplorable, even. A lovely lady like you?” All he sees is statuesque loveliness, same as he sees in the mirror; same as he sees in museums, and his flattery is well-deserved. People have been singing great Persephone’s praises for aeons, and Hermes will add one more voice to that crowd if it so pleases him. “If I were your husband I wouldn’t be avoiding you—no ma’am. I say put on your nice negligee and lounge around somewhere obvious. Put an end to being neglected, yes?”
quickensilver said: [[ Aaaaah, fantastic. Yes. But Im, you strong independent woman who don’t need no man, you are aware that Hermes is the god of travel, yes? This is his jam. He’ll get you out of YOUR jam. ]]
[To her, he’s a friend first and a god second. She worries about being a burden so much that she thinks any little thing could tip the scales and she’d be left on her ass in the dust!]
[[ And you’re perfectly right to think so. The things I see written about Hermes-as-deity mention a tendency for him to spontaneously desert people. Lot of irons in the fire; lot of places for him to be. ]]
- "Nh, don’t be so rough!"
- "You don’t need to be so gentle."
- "You’re really good at this…"
- "Are you sure you know what you’re doing?"
- "I want to try this thing I read in a book."
- "Are you sure they won’t find out?"
- "Don’t make me beg."
- "I’m all for spicing thing’s up, but isn’t this a bit much?"
- "I am not wearing that.”
- "Put it away."
- "Where do you even find this sort of thing?"
- "Are you sure this is legal?"
- "I’ll be there in five minutes."
- "This is really inappropriate."
- "What if someone catches us?"
- "I don’t want to look at you right now."
- "You have ten minutes, so make it quick."
- "Who’d have guessed you could pull such a face?"
- "What sort of noise was that?"
- "We’re moving too fast."
- "If you stay quiet, no one will know."
- "I know your secret."
"It is quite common for us to always want more and not be happy with what we have — to expect no complaints, especially among certain deities whom bask in such envy and vanity, would be a miracle." Persephone mused with an amused nod of her head, clearly feeling the previous doubt and uncertainty in the Gods demeanor and wanting nothing more than to remove the gloom from his thoughts and ease worries, although in a place such as the Underworld, a task would prove increasingly difficult.
His question, however, sparks laughter from deep within her, turning amused eyes on the male as she stared at him for a moment in obvious entertainment. She carefully shifted to place cup lightly in front of him, taking one between her own palms in attempt to keep in the warmth. “Of course he does, would you expect anything less?” She asked with a playful and very careful nudge of her shoulder. “Is that what you’ve all chosen to refer to him as these days? It seems fitting, as some days I’m sure he has vanished, and I live here.”
Hermes makes an exaggerated face of displeasure and immediately takes the honey. A lot of it, in fact. “Eugh. I can’t manage that. Tried drinking it once, I think—never again.” Working late into the night was more frequent than it ought to be, and Hermes had his tendency towards distraction to blame for it. Staying awake wasn’t the problem—the Caduceus’ sleep-granting powers were reversible—but it’s the alertness that suffers. So, red-eye coffees. And you can bet he’ll be bringing the entire stash of sugar packets and creamers back to his desk.
"Mm, I didn’t see him when I came in, but that’s nothing new." After blowing on it, Hermes takes a tentative sip and burns his tongue regardless. Impatient as always, this one. "Nicknames for everybody, why not? I’ve borrowed that one too before. Would you rather I call him Mister Moneybags? Or—and I really hope he isn’t listening—’biggest dwarf planet apart from Eris’?" His wicked grin says full well he isn’t sorry about that at all.
Mercury well in Augsburg with Silkscreen. Four colours where used: Black, Silver, Blue-Green, Brown. Below are two possible colour variations.
"It’s uh…" Im frowned, trying to remember just exactly where Port Townsend was. "It’s on the, uh, the tippy point. The sticky-out bit. Not the farthest bit, but the-the closest tip of the, uh, the part that goes out. Closest to the sound." Her hand waved uselessly as she tried to remember what the map had said when she’d looked it up on the antiquated library computers.
"Anyway, nothing big. Just figured I’d get some work done at the same time." She paused, still frustrated over the terminology that was evading her. "It’s been a while, hasn’t it? How long? Peninsula.” She snapped her fingers, pleased with herself. “That’s what it’s called. It’s on the eastern part of the peninsula.”
Hermes’ laughter is wild enough to startle a passing dog into making a racket, and still snickering, he gives a quick apology to the owner.
"You sound like me when I’m somewhere I don’t speak the language! I do hope you’re not waving your arms about too much while you’re driving."
American geography remains somewhat alien to him, but he supposes it’s not too far off. With a name, he can always look up the city later. It’s not like he as any other tasks which need his attention. “Sounds like a plan. Just let me know an ETA once you get your business taken care of, and we’re golden.”