( a visit to a museum is a search for beauty, truth, and meaning in our lives. )
in the G R E E K / R O M A N section - you are strangers who happen upon each other at the museum. what do you talk about? is it a debate about art or pure smalltalk? will you want to meet again?
a stop at the C A F E - all that wandering around art and history has made you hungry. how's the food here, dull or delicious? sit down and have a talk or see if you can smuggle a snack with you into the next exhibit without getting caught!
special E X H I B I T on the first floor - you've arranged to meet here! is it a romantic date or just a bit of a good time with friends or family? are you fascinated by what you see or already bored before you get started? under any circumstances, enjoy your outing together!
T O U R this way, follow along - you've signed up for the tour! are you alone or with someone? do you ask questions with interest or hang back and whisper among yourselves? are you actually more interested in your phone? do you maybe get lost on the way?
before "W O M A N with black S T O C K I N G S" - these paintings are rather raunchy and you're both suddenly feeling like a little round of public sex. well, this is your chance! who will see you behind that statue, that column or in that corner anyway?
E X I T, emergency only - is there a scenario that hasn't been covered or something else you'd like to do at the museum? this is your option!
How to play -
1. Comment with your character's name, fandom and preferences in the subject line.
2. Others comment to your top level with an option for a scenario and either leave a starter or ask you to start the scene.
The Doctor is wandering a multiverse museum some where and when. There are items like The Flash's shield and Batman's utility belt to name a few. The Doctor is glad so far he doesn't find anything related to him in this place.
[By all accounts, the Bank of Karabraxos is gone. The secret held within its vaults has been set free, and those responsible have been duly dealt with. Indeed, little should have been left of it save for what little remained after the destruction of the bank itself. A ruin of a place, destroyed by a solar storm.
And indeed, there is nothing left of it. Or rather, there was nothing. Now - by whatever standard of now one should choose to use - there is instead a vacancy. A hole in space where a planet once stood. A mystery, for all those who might choose to wonder after the great bank that once was.
A question, for those who might be able to sense that something yet remains. Something that has been carefully shifted one second out of alignment, visible only to those few who might have the ability to tell when temporal shenanigans are afoot.
Brax knows, of course, that it will not escape the Doctor's attention forever. But perhaps it will be long enough, as he sees to the careful and painstaking work of rebuilding the bones of the structure on which the bank had once stood. A museum - or rather, a Collection. One that no doubt the Doctor will know well, should he manage to spot Brax's not entirely subtle way of hiding it from the public eye until such time as he feels all is once again ready.
And for now... there yet remains much to be done.]
[The Doctor meanwhile is scoping out this museum and hoping that he doesn't find something related to him here or himself there. Why is he here? Because he had to pop out for a short trip, he may be grounded on Earth but he still has to come and go.]
Maybe I should have taken them with me here. Blimey, this is brilliant.
[The voice comes from somewhere behind the Doctor, and is offered as if the speaker has known full well that someone else is taking a look around. Even despite the fact that the museum is very definitely not open to the public yet.
More immediately relevant, though, is the fact that the voice is almost certainly familiar, to say nothing of the near-immediate feeling of another Time Lord being in the vicinity.]
I've gone to quite considerable effort to recreate it. Though some pieces may be lost beyond even my reach.
[For all that he is aware of the Doctor's survival - how could he not be, when one of his own plans had hinged on that same fact - Braxiatel is not particularlydoes notice the way the Doctor's eyes don't much match his face, but he declines to address the fact.
There are other matters at hand, after all. Ones that are far more important.]
Not all of us were on Gallifrey, at the end of the War.
[What he has been doing apart from keeping to himself and out of the Doctor's general notice is another question. But at least he's offered something of an answer all the same.]
[Somehow both his brother and The Master choose to run at the end of the War. What happened to The Rani and Susan still is anyone's guess. The Doctor goes to give Braxitatel something that The Doctor has learned being with humans; a big old hug. Don't go, please, don't go.]
[Fortunately, Braxiatel is at least somewhat familiar with humans. Not nearly to the extent the Doctor is, and even then one could hardly have considered Leela to be affectionate in quite the same way, but he understands the gesture for what it's meant as.
He even manages to offer a gentle shoulder pat in return, if not the hug in full.]
Really, did you never think I might have found a way to avoid all of what happened, at the end?
[With Pandora long since gone, Braxiatel has no reason to deny that telepathic contact. Instead, he accepts it, there in a way he might not have been before, surface thoughts abuzz with - yes, the same mild amusement that often lingers - but also relief in the knowledge that at least some of his family remains, and no shortage of quiet familial affection besides.]
I have never much cared for war. Too... blatant. And I was hardly going to let the Daleks have the Collection. They have no concept of art.
I had... let us simply call it a forewarning. Of what was likely to come. And with my career in politics long since over it was simple enough to retreat here. After all, who would come to seek out the eccentric owner of a collection of artworks? The Daleks? They would hardly know art if it hit them over the head.
[In as much as they can still be said to have heads.]
(( Bio- A freshly baked OC needing voicetesting. A man from a world where once a month somewhere in the world is struck by reality-altering light, who has recently joined the organisation that combats paranormal events and supernatural criminals. ))
Option 1-
Being a shapeshifter gives Yamada a unique perspective on form and function. Now he's taking the use of his powers seriously, studying the work of those who can bring it to life without becoming it seems a good idea. Except he's been staring at The Beautiful Season for about an hour, and hasn't noticed the tears plip-plip-plipping from his chin onto his shoes. It's astounding. He's normally so impassive, at least outwardly, but what he's looking at has stirred him up in ways he can't explain. He doesn't have the vernacular yet.
Option 2-
Okay, so little emotional moment over. Yamada doesn't like to take things too seriously. So after some study, he decides to pick an empty space that looks reasonable for his little ruse and shifts. He lets go of trying to make sense, and just tries to make feeling. He collapses into a tiny speck of pitch-black dust, so quick gravity doesn't have time to catch up before he blooms into a swirl of red and blue crafted from impossible ribbon thin and flexible strips of feather-like diamond that curl at the top of the flow, giving an impression of crashing waves. The mildest breeze makes the tiny strips chime and resonate, even the approach of a person.
[ Grew up exceedingly sheltered, so any exhibits will be totally new and fascinating to her. Open to assumed CR or first meetings, but no smut please. ]
( fun reference for this meme: Google has an Arts and Culture section that includes a wealth of information about museum collections around the world. )
[ What a discovery! These liminal places have museums with realistic imitations of what could be found in the XXI century. He will tell Caenis to arrange a tour with him later. Kirschtaria has already spent half of his morning sightseeing the miscellaneous exhibitions until he reaches Francisco de Goya's grisly masterpiece. He stops in front of the painting, gaze lingering on the limbless figure and the wild eyes of that portrayal of Chronos.
.............................
A father devouring his own son to avoid displacement. What drives that feeling? Envy? Fear? He bears the old scars carved by his own father's insane envy hidden underneath his flawless white suit, and he still doesn't grasp his actions. Kirschtaria did not hate his father then, nor he does now he is old enough to be more aware of the darkness in the mage society. The lack of understanding still bothers him a little. ]
[ His voice is deep, high, and in between, all in one. Like different ages all crammed into one form. His gaze dipped from the painting, to the individual, and then back to the painting. ]
I often wonder what others see, when they look upon works such as this.
[ His hands clasped behind him, he looks...both like he fits within this museum, and utterly out of time. It's the little touches, the way the clothing doesn't quite fit in with everyone else, like the cut was just a few centuries out of date, yet the fabrics modern.
Then, of course, there is the line of gold that bifurcated his face, like he was sewn back together with it. ]
[ The opposite of an ageless voice — one that has all inflections simultaneously. Kirschtaria's head to glance at the stranger with neither wariness nor awe. As a mage, he is unphased by the standard oddities. They are not hidden or buried in these liminal places, too.
When he speaks, he is both courteous and concise. ]
Hm. If I venture a guess, the horror factor would be the most eye-drawing aspect. [ Wodime reaches out to stroke his chin as he mulls the query. ] Those familiar Greek mythology would perhaps care more about the portrayal, and those who are trained artists would meticulously analyze the technical aspect instead. Such as the lighting and the use of color.
[ A polite, non-commitical response. He wouldn't criticize fashion when he wears a sizable, gold, white-feathered shoulderpad and a fur-lined cape.
Truly, he would prefer to dress informally with a shirt and a pair of jeans, but old habits are ingrained in him to fully part with his mystic codes. ]
[ He asks, his tone somewhere in between amused and insulted. After all, this did not belong to mankind, who had been Things under the Titan's feet, controlled and so very pathetic, but very much lesser. His eyes glow with a flash of... something, and he gestured to it. ]
An unruly child, fit only to be consumed, of course.
[ That scar across his face. One could have almost said he was cut in half, at some point.
Were one to look closely. ]
A correct decision is what I see, and one that should not have been undone.
Yes — to the majority that recognizes these figures, that is what remains.
[ Another noncomitical response. It is a simple truth. The standard person living in the post-AD era no longer believes these gods are real.
Everything belongs to mankind from Kirschtaria's perspective. The individuals are indeed weak comparatively, but as a whole, they are the prime species of the planet. He thinks sometimes that no other creature has been as nefarious as their form of "humanity" in those means to keep themselves unchallenged.
His eyebrows raise together, realization filling his eyes. There is no surprise as he studies his peculiar scar and hears his answer. He has had a suspicion. He's met gods before enough to recognize one. And the stranger has not been entirely subtle, either. ]
Was that the standard parenting in that era? [ He wonders, curious if it is just his method or if have been a popular widespread practice. ]
Pardon me, I don't see how that type of childrearing is successful. The child is not permitted to learn from their mistakes if their father eats them.
To answer your question, I must ask: Do you know of the predecessor, as you seem to be well-versed enough in this... mythology.
[ His tone reverberates, as if the word is offensive. As if it is wrong. He can hear it, the way Chronos speaks that word, and his logical conclusion seems as if it has missed something. ]
Ah, but perhaps I should just tell you. Uranus so hated his own children that he plunged them within their mother.
She fashioned a... sickle. [ The man's... cane, a vicious edge to it, taps the ground as he says it. ] Only one of these so-hated children was willing to do such a deed, to ambush Uranus, and castrate him, to ascend to his place.
[ He gestures at the painting. ] Would his children not do the same, if given the opportunity?
[ His voice is mild while he nods. Kirschtaria is well versed because that particular way of the "greek"-dominant world aligns with his magecraft over the modern world texture. Therefore, any mage would study a field of specialization. This happens to be his. ]
I didn't want to presume. Tales are formed from humans' perceptions to be sure of their accuracy.
[ They weren't, after all, where he came from. They became real enough after humanity had forced roles upon Zeus and his peers.
He listens without disturbing his explanation, gaze drifting back to the portrait after he finishes. It is best not to look at him when he asks the next question. ]
Would that child perform such a deed have his father not hate him so?
[ Would the other child if he had not been threatened first? Children want to be loved, but if they are hurt— The perpetual scar in his chest still throbs in pain after all these years, but he can't bring himself to hate his father for it. ]
Uranus' ambush was an act of self-defense. [ Kirschtaria reasons with a sigh. And he chose to continue a cycle of violence that has been the catalyst. ]
[ Loathe as he was to defend Uranus, of course, and he does not, not really. ]
He was a necessary obstacle, after all. Required to sever him from his nethers to separate the world into a perfect order. After all, it was then that the creatures of the land flourished, in perfect, carefully constructed order.
[ A pause, as he considered. ] And what disrupts order?
Unruly children. [ Rude children, undesirable, squaling brats that wanted nothing more than to be coddled, and to disrupt every shred of control.
Was it so surprising, that Chronos had seen this future for himself, and found it wanting? My guy, wrap it up then ]
[ He interjects to point his contradiction. Is he defending Uranus' actions? He holds his gaze with a quizzical look at the choice of words. ]
Children will grow and learn self-restraint when they mature. [ He is almost close to admit raising them were a distraction. ] Why have them if they are a burden?
[ There surely were ways to obtain a divine version of vasectomy. ]
However, is a small, unruly element undesirable? [ He wonders. The trials of adaptation are for a reason. If controlled and injected in small doses. It is what revitalizes and capitalizes the self-improvement needed for evolution. ] An already achievable "perfection" could lead to stagnation which is a dead end.
If it had been only an emotion — He took action with his hatred.
[ To the Titans, he buried them in the Earth. To Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires — he imprisoned in Tartarus. He has half-corroborated that mythological origin is accurate from this man's perspective. ]
It would have escalated. [ That hostility would have increased unless he was dethroned. ]
Perfect child... [ He looks briefly stunned for a moment at that answer more than any "mythological" revelation. ] Does that mean a perfect child would not be devoured like the others?
[ His gaze drifts back to the god's face, turning from the panting. Would a father truly spare a perfect child? ]
But a similar fate still befell just like his father warned him. So the story goes. [ He points with a wave. A son defeats his abusive father. ] Didn't it transpire because Uranus wanted revenge for his humiliation?
[ He points with a wave. He concealed under a "prophecy" to escape responsibility and passed the paranoia and generational trauma onto his son. ]
If what he proclaimed was truly inescapable fate, Zeus would have had a son instead of a daughter. That had been his prophecy. Yet Athena was born instead. [ He instructed Zeus to swallow Methis because of her hypothetical son. No, in Kirschtaria's opinion, he manipulated the situation to avenge himself. If his son had dismissed this possibility and embraced his children with love, perhaps that conflict could have been averted. ]
[Out of the way, old man, some people have places to be, and that place is not in Hades 2 the Classical Wing. Despite an effort at hiding through his attire, Theseus moves in that heavy, clumsy way of someone deeply self-conscious of his identity and how it might be perceived, but doing so leaves him unable (or maybe just uninterested) to notice that of others.
He barely realizes that he's hit someone, let alone the features of who was in the way of the featured collection: an exhibition on heroes. So honed in on his target, he's already turned away, scanning the displays instead.]
Perseus, Achilles, Hercules - hmph! Of course they would cater to fans of that brute...
[Understanding Humans 101: Field Trip Edition? Or perhaps she's visiting an exhibit on AI development to fill in the gaps in her knowledge there and probably register some Opinions . Depending on how robot-friendly this museum is, maybe she's a legitimate guest... or maybe you've caught her breaking in for her own special after-hours tour. Cross-canon, OCs welcome, happy to AU/canon-mash as suits!]
[Here to humbly enjoy some art, giving some particular attention to some technicallySFW statues. There is a noticeable pattern, other than the musculature and lack of clothes, and it's the shared subject of the pieces hangs around: the life and legend of the first king of Athens, Theseus.]
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bakerstreet2024-07-08 09:22 am
vivien weber | original character | ota
MJ | MCU | OTA
The Doctor | Doctor Who | OTA
no subject
in which I play fast and loose with the setting
And indeed, there is nothing left of it. Or rather, there was nothing. Now - by whatever standard of now one should choose to use - there is instead a vacancy. A hole in space where a planet once stood. A mystery, for all those who might choose to wonder after the great bank that once was.
A question, for those who might be able to sense that something yet remains. Something that has been carefully shifted one second out of alignment, visible only to those few who might have the ability to tell when temporal shenanigans are afoot.
Brax knows, of course, that it will not escape the Doctor's attention forever. But perhaps it will be long enough, as he sees to the careful and painstaking work of rebuilding the bones of the structure on which the bank had once stood. A museum - or rather, a Collection. One that no doubt the Doctor will know well, should he manage to spot Brax's not entirely subtle way of hiding it from the public eye until such time as he feels all is once again ready.
And for now... there yet remains much to be done.]
no subject
Maybe I should have taken them with me here. Blimey, this is brilliant.
no subject
[The voice comes from somewhere behind the Doctor, and is offered as if the speaker has known full well that someone else is taking a look around. Even despite the fact that the museum is very definitely not open to the public yet.
More immediately relevant, though, is the fact that the voice is almost certainly familiar, to say nothing of the near-immediate feeling of another Time Lord being in the vicinity.]
I've gone to quite considerable effort to recreate it. Though some pieces may be lost beyond even my reach.
no subject
No.
Impossible.
How?
Wat? Wot? What?
Irving?
[Those eyes are very old on that young looking face; not old face with young eyes. And that voice is higher pitched]
no subject
There are other matters at hand, after all. Ones that are far more important.]
Not all of us were on Gallifrey, at the end of the War.
[What he has been doing apart from keeping to himself and out of the Doctor's general notice is another question. But at least he's offered something of an answer all the same.]
no subject
no subject
He even manages to offer a gentle shoulder pat in return, if not the hug in full.]
Really, did you never think I might have found a way to avoid all of what happened, at the end?
no subject
Given how everything was, I wasn't sure what to expect. What made you leave?
no subject
I have never much cared for war. Too... blatant. And I was hardly going to let the Daleks have the Collection. They have no concept of art.
no subject
[Not that The Doctor isn't glad but he wants to know the story, why someone ran away]
no subject
[In as much as they can still be said to have heads.]
Yamada 💭 OC
Option 1-
Being a shapeshifter gives Yamada a unique perspective on form and function. Now he's taking the use of his powers seriously, studying the work of those who can bring it to life without becoming it seems a good idea. Except he's been staring at The Beautiful Season for about an hour, and hasn't noticed the tears plip-plip-plipping from his chin onto his shoes. It's astounding. He's normally so impassive, at least outwardly, but what he's looking at has stirred him up in ways he can't explain. He doesn't have the vernacular yet.
Option 2-
Okay, so little emotional moment over. Yamada doesn't like to take things too seriously. So after some study, he decides to pick an empty space that looks reasonable for his little ruse and shifts. He lets go of trying to make sense, and just tries to make feeling. He collapses into a tiny speck of pitch-black dust, so quick gravity doesn't have time to catch up before he blooms into a swirl of red and blue crafted from impossible ribbon thin and flexible strips of feather-like diamond that curl at the top of the flow, giving an impression of crashing waves. The mildest breeze makes the tiny strips chime and resonate, even the approach of a person.
He's taking critique.
(Or bring your own, I'm breezy.)
thomasin adams | original | ota
Dorian Pearl || Yellow King RPG || ota
giovanna genovese / original (vampire) / ota
Ash | OC Werewolf | OTA
Alucard | Castlevania
Claire Bennet ∞ NBC's Heroes ∞ OTA
becca nova + original + ota
Chrissy Cunningham | Stranger Things
Χρόνος | hades ii
let me know if I should change anything
.............................
A father devouring his own son to avoid displacement. What drives that feeling? Envy? Fear? He bears the old scars carved by his own father's insane envy hidden underneath his flawless white suit, and he still doesn't grasp his actions. Kirschtaria did not hate his father then, nor he does now he is old enough to be more aware of the darkness in the mage society. The lack of understanding still bothers him a little. ]
u good u good!
[ His voice is deep, high, and in between, all in one. Like different ages all crammed into one form. His gaze dipped from the painting, to the individual, and then back to the painting. ]
I often wonder what others see, when they look upon works such as this.
[ His hands clasped behind him, he looks...both like he fits within this museum, and utterly out of time. It's the little touches, the way the clothing doesn't quite fit in with everyone else, like the cut was just a few centuries out of date, yet the fabrics modern.
Then, of course, there is the line of gold that bifurcated his face, like he was sewn back together with it. ]
no subject
When he speaks, he is both courteous and concise. ]
Hm. If I venture a guess, the horror factor would be the most eye-drawing aspect. [ Wodime reaches out to stroke his chin as he mulls the query. ] Those familiar Greek mythology would perhaps care more about the portrayal, and those who are trained artists would meticulously analyze the technical aspect instead. Such as the lighting and the use of color.
[ A polite, non-commitical response. He wouldn't criticize fashion when he wears a sizable, gold, white-feathered shoulderpad and a fur-lined cape.
Truly, he would prefer to dress informally with a shirt and a pair of jeans, but old habits are ingrained in him to fully part with his mystic codes. ]
May I ask what do you see?
no subject
[ He asks, his tone somewhere in between amused and insulted. After all, this did not belong to mankind, who had been Things under the Titan's feet, controlled and so very pathetic, but very much lesser. His eyes glow with a flash of... something, and he gestured to it. ]
An unruly child, fit only to be consumed, of course.
[ That scar across his face. One could have almost said he was cut in half, at some point.
Were one to look closely. ]
A correct decision is what I see, and one that should not have been undone.
no subject
[ Another noncomitical response. It is a simple truth. The standard person living in the post-AD era no longer believes these gods are real.
Everything belongs to mankind from Kirschtaria's perspective. The individuals are indeed weak comparatively, but as a whole, they are the prime species of the planet. He thinks sometimes that no other creature has been as nefarious as their form of "humanity" in those means to keep themselves unchallenged.
His eyebrows raise together, realization filling his eyes. There is no surprise as he studies his peculiar scar and hears his answer. He has had a suspicion. He's met gods before enough to recognize one. And the stranger has not been entirely subtle, either. ]
Was that the standard parenting in that era? [ He wonders, curious if it is just his method or if have been a popular widespread practice. ]
Pardon me, I don't see how that type of childrearing is successful. The child is not permitted to learn from their mistakes if their father eats them.
no subject
[ His tone reverberates, as if the word is offensive. As if it is wrong. He can hear it, the way Chronos speaks that word, and his logical conclusion seems as if it has missed something. ]
Ah, but perhaps I should just tell you. Uranus so hated his own children that he plunged them within their mother.
She fashioned a... sickle. [ The man's... cane, a vicious edge to it, taps the ground as he says it. ] Only one of these so-hated children was willing to do such a deed, to ambush Uranus, and castrate him, to ascend to his place.
[ He gestures at the painting. ] Would his children not do the same, if given the opportunity?
no subject
[ His voice is mild while he nods. Kirschtaria is well versed because that particular way of the "greek"-dominant world aligns with his magecraft over the modern world texture. Therefore, any mage would study a field of specialization. This happens to be his. ]
I didn't want to presume. Tales are formed from humans' perceptions to be sure of their accuracy.
[ They weren't, after all, where he came from. They became real enough after humanity had forced roles upon Zeus and his peers.
He listens without disturbing his explanation, gaze drifting back to the portrait after he finishes. It is best not to look at him when he asks the next question. ]
Would that child perform such a deed have his father not hate him so?
[ Would the other child if he had not been threatened first? Children want to be loved, but if they are hurt— The perpetual scar in his chest still throbs in pain after all these years, but he can't bring himself to hate his father for it. ]
Uranus' ambush was an act of self-defense. [ Kirschtaria reasons with a sigh. And he chose to continue a cycle of violence that has been the catalyst. ]
no subject
[ Loathe as he was to defend Uranus, of course, and he does not, not really. ]
He was a necessary obstacle, after all. Required to sever him from his nethers to separate the world into a perfect order. After all, it was then that the creatures of the land flourished, in perfect, carefully constructed order.
[ A pause, as he considered. ] And what disrupts order?
Unruly children. [ Rude children, undesirable, squaling brats that wanted nothing more than to be coddled, and to disrupt every shred of control.
Was it so surprising, that Chronos had seen this future for himself, and found it wanting?
My guy, wrap it up then]no subject
[ He interjects to point his contradiction. Is he defending Uranus' actions? He holds his gaze with a quizzical look at the choice of words. ]
Children will grow and learn self-restraint when they mature. [ He is almost close to admit raising them were a distraction. ] Why have them if they are a burden?
[ There surely were ways to obtain a divine version of vasectomy. ]
However, is a small, unruly element undesirable? [ He wonders. The trials of adaptation are for a reason. If controlled and injected in small doses. It is what revitalizes and capitalizes the self-improvement needed for evolution. ] An already achievable "perfection" could lead to stagnation which is a dead end.
no subject
Did he deserve his castration? Of course, for that was the only way to bring a new age.
[ Only so far, after all, only to prove a point. He had been the only Titan willing to do so, and he knew it.
So it had been obvious that he would take his father's place. ]
Ah, the more important matter. Do we all not want to see ourselves manifested in the perfect child? The summation of our every trait?
[ A shrug. ]
Perhaps they were all found... wanting in the end. [ Also, in the end, a threat! Of course! And he did not want to lose power like father dearest. ]
Or perhaps it was to prevent one from befalling the same fate.
[ Okay, so maybe being vivisected was no better, but. ]
no subject
[ To the Titans, he buried them in the Earth. To Cyclopes and Hecatoncheires — he imprisoned in Tartarus. He has half-corroborated that mythological origin is accurate from this man's perspective. ]
It would have escalated. [ That hostility would have increased unless he was dethroned. ]
Perfect child... [ He looks briefly stunned for a moment at that answer more than any "mythological" revelation. ] Does that mean a perfect child would not be devoured like the others?
[ His gaze drifts back to the god's face, turning from the panting. Would a father truly spare a perfect child? ]
But a similar fate still befell just like his father warned him. So the story goes. [ He points with a wave. A son defeats his abusive father. ] Didn't it transpire because Uranus wanted revenge for his humiliation?
[ He points with a wave. He concealed under a "prophecy" to escape responsibility and passed the paranoia and generational trauma onto his son. ]
If what he proclaimed was truly inescapable fate, Zeus would have had a son instead of a daughter. That had been his prophecy. Yet Athena was born instead. [ He instructed Zeus to swallow Methis because of her hypothetical son. No, in Kirschtaria's opinion, he manipulated the situation to avenge himself. If his son had dismissed this possibility and embraced his children with love, perhaps that conflict could have been averted. ]
no subject
not in Hades 2the Classical Wing. Despite an effort at hiding through his attire, Theseus moves in that heavy, clumsy way of someone deeply self-conscious of his identity and how it might be perceived, but doing so leaves him unable (or maybe just uninterested) to notice that of others.He barely realizes that he's hit someone, let alone the features of who was in the way of the featured collection: an exhibition on heroes. So honed in on his target, he's already turned away, scanning the displays instead.]
Perseus, Achilles, Hercules - hmph! Of course they would cater to fans of that brute...
no subject
Who raised y'all?
Chronos himself spun with the effort, though he rights himself well enough.
It is the principle of the thing! ]
He is not the only brute within these halls, it seems.
[ His multi-toned voice sounds. Annoyed.
Not even an apology?? Rude! ]
ARID | The Fall: Unbound | OTA
and probably register some Opinions. Depending on how robot-friendly this museum is, maybe she's a legitimate guest... or maybe you've caught her breaking in for her own special after-hours tour. Cross-canon, OCs welcome, happy to AU/canon-mash as suits!]Theseus | Hades
Adaine Abernant | Fantasy High | ota
alexa hase | original | ota