[ this was just one of those hellish days (or nights) when everything goes wrong. wake up, wash his face, check and ready himself in the mirror, run out to tartarus, get slaughtered handily by meg. revive and run through the gauntlet again, scrape through the fight with tisiphone by the skin of his teeth, make it to asphodel and accidentally fall into magma and burn before he could clamber back onto shore. now that was embarrassing. why couldn't he have been born truly fireproof rather than resistant? after clawing his way back to asphodel and bumping into thanatos, who was truly on top of his scythe game, he'd struggled so badly he couldn't even win the centaur's heart, which he really needed because practically the very minute he'd stepped into the hydra's lair it'd burst out of the lava and nearly snapped him in half--
he was having an especially godawful time in hell today. when didn't he? but today was particularly ruthless. he almost isn't even looking forward to elysium. knowing his luck, he might just be speared a dozen times by theseus before he gets back on the ball enough to defeat him, and then he'd have to contend with the satyrs and then his father...
'you seem to be in a particularly sour mood, son of hades,' chaos' voice echoes in his head. he'd popped into the paradox space on his n-th run before heading into asphodel proper. something about talking with chaos is always equal parts comforting--he never has to put up any pretense with the primordial god--and unnerving of course, because he's certain he can't put anything over chaos if he tried.
'what's troubling you? speak.'
what is troubling him? he runs a hand through his hair with an exhaled sigh. ] Trust me, you don't even want to hear about my day. Though it's kind of you to ask. [ their conversations are a little rare when chaos prefers him to be quiet, so he treasures this when he can.
'oh?'
the expectant and patient pause, he thinks, is almost a boon in itself when he rarely has a chance to actually speak his thoughts to someone who was genuinely offering to listen. life in hell is busy that way, funnily enough. sure he can trade quips with meg, talk embarrassing deaths with hypnos, snatch the rare conversations he can with thanatos before he has to disappear to pick up souls, but... well, it's always 'what's zagreus doing' and 'where's zagreus off to now' and never quite 'how's zagreus doing'-- ]
I'm not gonna talk your ears off about how awful my day was just now. But hey, I appreciate the thought, I really do. [ and then a huffed breath in exasperation, a sudden flash of just wanting to vent, even if it's not about hie frustrations in specific. ] You know, sometimes I wish... sometimes I wish there's someone who actually understands how hard it is sometimes. Someone who understands how tiring it is to be killed over and over, trying and failing over and over, how exhausting it gets...
Maybe Sisyphus might get it? The whole trying and failing constantly part, anyway. Maybe Orpheus understands how awful it is trying to escape this place. Even Meg would understand how frustrating it is to die over and over again. [ a rather dark laugh, but--no, he doesn't blame her for doing her job. ] But man, I guess the only one who really has to go through the hell that I do is me.
[ it's an almost lonely thought. one that prompts back a memory of some paradox conversation he had cycles and cycles ago; since then he'd certainly gone pantsless sometimes, flashed thumbs up at the mirror and even give himself little motivational psych-ups. what can he say, he kind of talks to himself a lot. and on retrospect, he wonders if this is even more of a sign of loneliness than it might appear--
'it might be,' chaos says with something almost like amusement in their voice. 'but i believe i understand you, son of hades. you want someone to empathize you, in perhaps the most literal sense. i can help.' ]
What, really?
[ 'certainly. there's little beyond my power. think of it as a free boon, and that is a rare gift.' it's an offer that must have prompted incredulity on his face instantly, because there is a wry, inscrutable kind of smile from that alabaster face-- 'if it's that unbelievable, perhaps i'll require a small favor of you someday. if you feel like accepting that offer, search the mirror of night the next time you return to your room, and enter through. i assure you that it'll be an interesting experience.'
an interesting experience?? that can mean any number of things, pleasant or painful or a multitude of anything in between or out. but it's enough to occupy his thoughts as he exits the void, returns to the searing heat of asphodel, rallies himself to tackle hell anew and--
the barge of death that attempt was brutal to a sadistic extent. on one hand, the humiliation of dying before he could reach the hydra is a special kind of embarrassment. on the other hand, he thinks as he drags himself out the river of blood, through the great hall, towards his room... he might have an opportunity to try that mysterious boon chaos had offered. what could it possibly be, anyway? that ancient deity was so often cryptic. but even then, he thinks, they were correct in their assumption of his problem: maybe he just wanted someone to understand him and his frustrations and endeavors, if that was even possible.
there are practically an infinite number of souls, undead and ex-mortal occupying the depths of hell. there are a legion of gods and god-adjacent powers governing the underworld, each with their own jobs, keeping the chthonic machine ticking like a great clock counting down the ticks of lives that trickle down. so many souls and lives and snuffed out lives. but as much as he appreciates his allies and friends and even occasionally his enemies even as they stick a blade in him or otherwise slaughter him, he occasionally feels pretty alone, maybe subconsciously just wanting someone by his side.
the surface of the mirror, showing simply himself, blurs into ink-dark void reminiscent of chaos' gates. he doesn't quite do a graceful dive inside like he does through the portal, he reaches out more cautiously to tap the warping surface and the pull of it draws him abruptly through, the familiarity of falling through space like he does before landing in chaos' realm.
only instead of falling onto the cracked marble, he lands much less gracefully and nearly faceplants right onto... the floor of his own room, right in front of the mirror. ] What the-- [ for a split second he wonders if that ancient deity might be playing some strange trick on him and if nothing had actually happened at all, before he notices a very familiar pair of glowing feet in front of him and he follows the line of leg up to see... ]
Oh.
Hello there, you. [ greeting himself casually, as if he hadn't just tumbled headfirst out the mirror straight at his doppelganger's feet. he offers a lopsided smile. also, let's hope this new zagreus isn't pantsless or this might be even more compromising than it already is. ]
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crawls out the river of death........
Date: 2020-11-12 05:01 am (UTC)he was having an especially godawful time in hell today. when didn't he? but today was particularly ruthless. he almost isn't even looking forward to elysium. knowing his luck, he might just be speared a dozen times by theseus before he gets back on the ball enough to defeat him, and then he'd have to contend with the satyrs and then his father...
'you seem to be in a particularly sour mood, son of hades,' chaos' voice echoes in his head. he'd popped into the paradox space on his n-th run before heading into asphodel proper. something about talking with chaos is always equal parts comforting--he never has to put up any pretense with the primordial god--and unnerving of course, because he's certain he can't put anything over chaos if he tried.
'what's troubling you? speak.'
what is troubling him? he runs a hand through his hair with an exhaled sigh. ] Trust me, you don't even want to hear about my day. Though it's kind of you to ask. [ their conversations are a little rare when chaos prefers him to be quiet, so he treasures this when he can.
'oh?'
the expectant and patient pause, he thinks, is almost a boon in itself when he rarely has a chance to actually speak his thoughts to someone who was genuinely offering to listen. life in hell is busy that way, funnily enough. sure he can trade quips with meg, talk embarrassing deaths with hypnos, snatch the rare conversations he can with thanatos before he has to disappear to pick up souls, but... well, it's always 'what's zagreus doing' and 'where's zagreus off to now' and never quite 'how's zagreus doing'-- ]
I'm not gonna talk your ears off about how awful my day was just now. But hey, I appreciate the thought, I really do. [ and then a huffed breath in exasperation, a sudden flash of just wanting to vent, even if it's not about hie frustrations in specific. ] You know, sometimes I wish... sometimes I wish there's someone who actually understands how hard it is sometimes. Someone who understands how tiring it is to be killed over and over, trying and failing over and over, how exhausting it gets...
Maybe Sisyphus might get it? The whole trying and failing constantly part, anyway. Maybe Orpheus understands how awful it is trying to escape this place. Even Meg would understand how frustrating it is to die over and over again. [ a rather dark laugh, but--no, he doesn't blame her for doing her job. ] But man, I guess the only one who really has to go through the hell that I do is me.
[ it's an almost lonely thought. one that prompts back a memory of some paradox conversation he had cycles and cycles ago; since then he'd certainly gone pantsless sometimes, flashed thumbs up at the mirror and even give himself little motivational psych-ups. what can he say, he kind of talks to himself a lot. and on retrospect, he wonders if this is even more of a sign of loneliness than it might appear--
'it might be,' chaos says with something almost like amusement in their voice. 'but i believe i understand you, son of hades. you want someone to empathize you, in perhaps the most literal sense. i can help.' ]
What, really?
[ 'certainly. there's little beyond my power. think of it as a free boon, and that is a rare gift.' it's an offer that must have prompted incredulity on his face instantly, because there is a wry, inscrutable kind of smile from that alabaster face-- 'if it's that unbelievable, perhaps i'll require a small favor of you someday. if you feel like accepting that offer, search the mirror of night the next time you return to your room, and enter through. i assure you that it'll be an interesting experience.'
an interesting experience?? that can mean any number of things, pleasant or painful or a multitude of anything in between or out. but it's enough to occupy his thoughts as he exits the void, returns to the searing heat of asphodel, rallies himself to tackle hell anew and--
the barge of death that attempt was brutal to a sadistic extent. on one hand, the humiliation of dying before he could reach the hydra is a special kind of embarrassment. on the other hand, he thinks as he drags himself out the river of blood, through the great hall, towards his room... he might have an opportunity to try that mysterious boon chaos had offered. what could it possibly be, anyway? that ancient deity was so often cryptic. but even then, he thinks, they were correct in their assumption of his problem: maybe he just wanted someone to understand him and his frustrations and endeavors, if that was even possible.
there are practically an infinite number of souls, undead and ex-mortal occupying the depths of hell. there are a legion of gods and god-adjacent powers governing the underworld, each with their own jobs, keeping the chthonic machine ticking like a great clock counting down the ticks of lives that trickle down. so many souls and lives and snuffed out lives. but as much as he appreciates his allies and friends and even occasionally his enemies even as they stick a blade in him or otherwise slaughter him, he occasionally feels pretty alone, maybe subconsciously just wanting someone by his side.
the surface of the mirror, showing simply himself, blurs into ink-dark void reminiscent of chaos' gates. he doesn't quite do a graceful dive inside like he does through the portal, he reaches out more cautiously to tap the warping surface and the pull of it draws him abruptly through, the familiarity of falling through space like he does before landing in chaos' realm.
only instead of falling onto the cracked marble, he lands much less gracefully and nearly faceplants right onto... the floor of his own room, right in front of the mirror. ] What the-- [ for a split second he wonders if that ancient deity might be playing some strange trick on him and if nothing had actually happened at all, before he notices a very familiar pair of glowing feet in front of him and he follows the line of leg up to see... ]
Oh.
Hello there, you. [ greeting himself casually, as if he hadn't just tumbled headfirst out the mirror straight at his doppelganger's feet. he offers a lopsided smile. also, let's hope this new zagreus isn't pantsless or this might be even more compromising than it already is. ]