Blessings from Khaos

|I Stopped Breathing The Moment You Recognized Me|

Hermês was with Apóllōn and Árēs as they searched around the Museum of Natural History.

It had not been Hermês' idea. He was supposed to be searching for his Leaneíras, but Father's orders were his orders. His only consolation was the fact that Poseidón had his people searching for her while he played ping pong with the enemies' ship. It came out then that Aigaiôn had once more joined the Titans as he tried to combat his efforts.

As if they had not failed the first time.

As if it was not a wise decision to challenge a Father in protection of his child.

Either way, they searched the area. Árēs traced his fingers across the ground, a dark scowl on his face. "The Spartoi have been risen from their slumber."

"I take it this means that you will be removing them from here," Apóllōn asked as he fingered what was clearly one of the hunter's arrows. His younger brother nodded his head with a sigh, "You would think that with the mortals' obsession with preserving history that they would be safe here, but then again, one cannot know the mind of the divine. It was to be expected. I should have moved them long before now."

"Where are you moving them to," Hermês asked. His older brother gave a small laugh. "As if I will tell you. Háidēs will not be going after me because you started a zombie apocalypse." The three brothers chortled. Their Uncle had been incredibly frustrated when the conspiracy gained traction and the increase of workload due to necromancers trying to kickstart said apocalypse.

The heady scent of roses in full bloom was their only warning before Aphrodítē appeared, dropping from the sky onto Apóllōn's back and the two of them tumbled to the ground. Her dark eyes flashed in multitudes of colors and the snarl on her face wouldn't be out of place on a tiger. It was moments like this that reminded Hermês of the fact that she had wartime functions alongside her epithets: Warlike Aphrodítē, Armed Aphrodítē, and Aphrodítē, the Bringer of Victory. His eldest brother gave a string of curses as he tried to dodge her swiping nails which were coated in celestial bronze, imperial gold, and pure adamantine.

Árēs reached out, grabbing ahold of the goddess who kicked her feet out as she glared at Apóllōn.

"Aphrō?" Árēs questioned as he placed his blessing on her feet. Apóllōn stood, golden eyes flashing in fury.

The goddess paid the younger sons of Ζεύς no mind. "Would you like to explain to me on why my darling Drew is not within the camp where she is to be safe?" The rage and worry that combated each other in her eyes reminded them of the fact that there was a reason that her children hardly ever went on quest. It also reminded them of the fact that she rarely had children, birthing at least a dozen every three centuries before stopping for a longer time.

(Twas the same for Árēs and the only indication that the two of them were on the outs. They quite possibly had the healthiest relationship throughout the pantheon, and they even treated the children that were sire whenever they went on "breaks" as their own.)

She had been in such worry when Aineías made his travel across the world so long ago and swore that she would never go through with that again. And in not so many words, she had forbidden her children from going on quests. She did everything that she could to keep them from being seen as threats; showing them how to neutralize their scents. If it were up to her, then they wouldn't even be at the camp instead squared away somewhere that not even death could touch. They could all understand her reasoning of course. Harsh old age would soon enshroud their children - ruthless age which stands someday at the side of every man, deadly, wearying, dreaded even by the gods.

But the mortals found that to be the gift of life. Leaving legacies no matter how big or small that live and age long after they died away.

Tis inspirational even if it was a confusing thought.