Blessings from Khaos

|It Is Both A Blessing And A Curse To Feel Everything So Very Deeply|

The man's laughter echoed in the darkness, shaking the ground until it seemed the whole cavern ceiling would collapse.

The sea cried in rage. Waves slammed against the shores in random places over the entire planet. Thousand feet of waves rose in the air as if they were attempting to touch the sky before crashing back down to the ocean floor. Mortals screamed as the foundations of the earth shook. The waves churned into chaos, whipping gales from every quarter, shrouding over in thunderheads the earth and sea at once – and night swept down from the sky – East and South Winds clashed and the raging West and North, sprung from the heavens.

Hermês walked into the golden-floored hall of the council chamber. Father sat upon the peak of Olympos, eyeing Poseidón in worry as the god of sea was vibrating with fury. The second son of Krónos was sitting upon his throne with his gaze locked intently on Athênê who was doing her best to avoid the gaze of her Uncle. Hermês couldn't blame her as a simple glance at Poseidón's eyes were like looking into the depths of the ocean in the middle of the Night during a hurricane.

The goddess of wisdom was strong without a doubt. She was not an opponent any sane person would have. She was one of the four most intelligent gods of the Twelve Olympioi Major. She was one of the most favored children; and favored daughter, of Ζεύς. And yet in the eyes of Poseidón, whose gaze churned with a towering ball of vexation, she was nothing but a child. His sisters fluttered around him, doing their best to soothe him which was a surprise as Dēmḗtēr tended to ignore both him and Ζεύς in care for her daughters.

Hermês ignored it all as he moved to his own throne. His gaze moved to the expansive view of the world below allowing him to observe mankind from the heights. A pity that he could not see his Leaneíras. His anger had all but burned out, instead an air of melancholy surrounded him. His limbs felt heavy and it was only repetition that had kept him afloat in the air. He didn't even want to be there on Olympos. He wanted to rush back to the mountains of Kyllene and waste away until his love was returned to him.

The golden tables and tripods within the room were automatons animated by Hḗphaistos, and trundled in and out of the hall as required. Hermês reached out for a chalice of nectar, sipping on it absently as the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.

His Leaneíras was out there somewhere. He needed her back. She was like a dream that he had never wanted to awaken from. How had he been living life before her? He suppose he now understood what Aphrodítē meant when she stated that it was both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply. He wondered how the goddess of love and passion had not been driven mad as of yet?

He could feel eyes roaming over him in worry, but he could not find the strength to muster cheer. Why should he when his Leaneíras had been taken from him? Who knew what dastardly things the enemy was doing to her? Oh, how he would flatten the earth and show them all how he was truly a son of Ζεύς if they assaulted her! The way that he would delight in their screams of terrors when he got his hands on any of them!