heliocentric║greek mythology

five

All I can think as I stare at the right of the duo is Karen.

Because with that haircut and the I want to talk to your manager look on her face, she looks exactly like a middle aged mom. Not one of those cool moms, but one of the moms that complains to the teacher when their child doesn't do their homework and fails the class.

The one of the left is much worse. The beer belly and muscle tank that accentuates all the wrong curves do not do him any favors, but it's the MAGA hat that puts the nail in the coffin.

But there's something about them that suggests an age older than what appears on the surface, and considering the last person that visited me, I think I know why.

My lethargy dissipates, replaced by irritation.

"My door is not a voicemail inbox to Apollo," I say, but something in the man's expression stops me from closing the door. Like I have to prove something to him.

"I want to talk to him," the woman says in a commanding tone. The man just sneers at me like he's better than I am.

"Since you dipshits clearly didn't get the memo, we mortals use words like please instead of demanding to be let into a stranger's home."

But they don't even pay heed to my words, brushing right past me to sit in the couch. Rolling my eyes, I walk over to take a seat on the opposite couch, and the coffee table between us is the only thing making me feel less vulnerable.

"I have to ask for your names, because I sure as hell don't remember a god of middle aged crises."

"I am Hera. And this is Ares," Hera says, placing a calming hand on Ares's leg, which has begun to shake furiously. "I won't waste any words," she continues. "It is imperative that you disclose Apollo's location to us."

Putting an indignant expression on my face doesn't take much effort. "I don't fucking know where he is, and I don't know why you shitheads think that I know."

"Oh, I think the hyacinths sitting on your coffee table render your denial quite unfounded."

Those hyacinths have betrayed me twice over. First to tell Phoebus that he didn't mean nothing to me, and now this. I knew I should have thrown them away, but I don't have that kind of strength.

Ares leans forward with a goading expression his face and says, "Look, pussycat. You don't tell us, and he dies with the rest of us. The titans are already gone."

Die?

The gods may be rendered obsolete, but they can't die, at least to my knowledge. Something about the way we always remember them keeps them alive. Still, I try not to let my concern show as I say, "Then good fucking riddance. Maybe you can reincarnate as a garden gnome."

"We don't require you to betray his location. All we request is that you convince him to at least let us present our case. We believe that we are due that much."

"You're not even due any more time in my home. Get the fuck out."

"Silly little girl, do you have no fear of the gods?"

I should be scared. The queen of the gods and the god of war are threatening me with my life. But I'm not.

"If you had any capacity to hurt me, you would have done so already. Just accept that your reign is over and try to find something meaningful to do with your existences already," I say flatly, gesturing at them to leave.

Ares, whose face has been getting redder and redder throughout our whole exchange, rises with pure fury on his face. Before I have time to even flinch before his raised hand, I'm on the floor, reeling from his blow to my cheek.