Is that a threat?

[rotandriddles]

Shut the door, throw away the key, leave me in the dark. The bars won't hold the shadows back; they'll creep by the guards and swallow the kingdom. What will the King do? And the Queen? How will they ever find their fancy frocks?

(He is smiling like a cat, sitting on a fallen tree.)

Not that what they wear matters a wit to me. They all come to me in one form or another and it's never alluring.

Comments

[gardenprince]

( His fingers hold loosely to his dagger, the back of his other hand resting against his eyes. )

Except those who can't die anymore.

[rotandriddles]

It comes and goes for some. (Very few, but Ganymede is special.) Bury the dagger; see if it has come for you again.

[gardenprince]

( The movement is effortless; in the years upon years that he has lived - enumerable, he wagers, even if he had bothered to try and count them - he has buried the dagger so many times. His hand falls from his face and he braces himself, driving the ornate blade past his beautiful clothing and into his middle. Ganymede's breath catches and his vision blurs with the pain, his knees buckling and everything burns, but there is no rot or death.

Only flower petals. He is beginning to loath being "special." )

Are there -- ( He swallows and fights to steady his voice. This is commonplace now, stabbing himself, but only killing time. ) -- any that stand out above others in your memory?

[rotandriddles]

(The dramatic display gets no reaction out of him. Shadows curl around him, giving him wings one moment and horns the next. His appearance doesn't settle when he is around Ganymede, though the alterations are often subtle.)

None that lasted for eternity. (Obviously. Ganymede has encountered no others.) There are those who enter my domain, seeking those they love.

[gardenprince]

( In a world that is constant and predictable, the constantly shifting form of Hades is perplexing and curious, instead of frightening as he should find the ageless god. Bright blue eyes trace the horns as they curl, a muted hope flickering through his countenance.

If he tries to hide it, he fails utterly. )

My family, my brothers, they came to you, but not in fear or regret.

( With a faint wince, he sets the ornate dagger aside, settled upon his knees. ) Did you ever return any of the souls that mortals sought?

[swayedto]

If they're yours first. You can't have them unless they're yours first. That's - 'impolite', isn't it, now.

[rotandriddles]

It matters not when or where or why; they come to me all the same. I can be delayed but never deterred.

[rotandriddles]

(Hope is not something he sees often. Such lights are generally snuffed out before he encounters others.)

I have never met a mortal who did not regret. (On some level.) Life is not mine to give.

[swayedto]

Or silenced. Shoo, shoo.

[impartialsky]

[ A curious selection of words. After all, is it not Hades who is chief of all things alluring? Zeus, too, sees a Hades that others do not. Death can be beautiful or horrifying, but it is no less fascinating.

Zeus' hands are loose at his sides, the blanche of his feathers tickle the bottoms of his palms. He stands a small distance away, dusk has not fallen just yet.

You seem troubled, brother. ]

[gardenprince]

( The hope is something that the prince fights to douse before it is recognizable, but as Apollo has reminded him on more than one occasion, he is imperfect; he is not a god. Nor does he seek to become one, if it were at all possible. )

If it were?

( Because they have time. His questions steal seconds, minutes, but that is for the best now. )

[rotandriddles]

I wouldn't be Hades. (That's said with a completely straight face, though there's more than a hint that he's having fun at Ganymede's expense.) The realm I govern thinks of life passively.

[rotandriddles]

Am I silenced? I think…

No.

[rotandriddles]

(Zeus has his full attention, but he doesn't move. His crypt-black eyes take in the glory of his brother, noting in particular the sky blue hue of his eyes. That is a color he does not see often - and only outside of the confines of his realm.)

Trouble lurks in the shadows. (Meaning he is well-accustomed to it.) Boredom stands behind it.

[impartialsky]

[ The ever persistent fate of the gods. Zeus sees the deepest parts of the night from afar— he is, still, not often this close. Only on in this twilight realm does he find his brother with such frequency.

Zeus inclines his head. ]

[rotandriddles]

(Rising, Hades's form shifts into something that is the truest to himself. Underneath his shadows and trailing black hair, he has a beauty of his own - though it doesn't radiate and illuminate like Zeus's charms.)

Even with your far-seeing eyes, boredom found you?

[impartialsky]

[ Zeus is a cut different from the others, by virtue solely of what he is. All seeing, far seeing, he is just like the others in the realm that he must do nothing but watch. He has plenty at his disposal to remain occupied, but that does no mean he hasn't built his own garden, that he descended more than he had in centuries once a certain prince graced it's flowers.

Zeus remains still, the yawning blue of his eyes rakes the form Hades aquires before settling back on his face. ]

[rotandriddles]

He's here. (Speaking of that certain prince… Hades knows that Ganymede has gained his brother's notice and that's more than enough to make him curious about the mortal.) He longs to be with me.

(Though he has explained that it's not within his powers to interfere.

Even if he wanted to. Which he doesn't.)

Mortals are lonely creatures, brother. Do more than watch him.

[impartialsky]

[ The endless blue of his eyes grows heavy, less like a storm and more like the pale of a great cloud passing over. He is mortal, all mortal men eventually settle into the palms of Hades, regardless of how they might reach for the perfect justice Zeus represents.

Loneliness. Some could argue who might be more lonely, though Zeus would not.

Regardless, one delicate hand lifts, one glistening pale feather held between two fingers. On the contrary, Hades. His mere presence has brought Ganymede to his knees before, should he attempt anything further, it will take some time, yet. ]

[rotandriddles]

(A hand with long, pale fingers is raised to press against Zeus's hand. The feather between Zeus's fingers is caressed without a thought and even the talons on the tips of Hades's fingers refuse to press too tightly against Zeus's skin. Not once has he caused his brother ill. Being opposing forces does not mean they are at war or unable to understand one another. Mortals are foolish to imagine such things.)

In a place between life and death, you could meet. I can dampen your glory before his eyes.

(Consider it a gift.)

[impartialsky]

[ His mouth turns, then, lifts at the edges and the cloud descends as Zeus' lashes sweep low. He doesn't laugh, Zeus has not opened his mouth for longer than man can remember in their collective memory. When his gaze lifts again, the blue of his eyes is like an ocean.

A sweet offer. Sweet, undoubtedly, as pomegranate. ]

[rotandriddles]

(The gift is paid in full by such a reaction and Hades leans forward to brush his lips against his brother's cheek.)

Time is no matter; the space is here or wherever you choose.

[impartialsky]

[ The kiss is as quiet as his words, spoken all but against the marble of his cheek. His jaw turns a fraction, toward the sensation. They have more time than the world itself, as Zeus has no doubt that the day the Earth comes to a close they will inevitably wander on. Maybe then the inbetween will be all places.

Or will they be even more bored? ]

[rotandriddles]

(A chuckle, deep and unsettling leaves his lips; it's the sort of sounds one fears to hear in the dead of night.)

The world will no longer exist between us. (They can travel where they wish and Hades can open his realm for Zeus.) There are souls who cry out to you. I am a poor imitation.

[impartialsky]

[ It is a sound Zeus is not unfamiliar with, and where mortal men may fear it, the gentle turn of his mouth does not waver. Zeus knows there are those that reach for him, longing for his guidance, for his presence, perhaps for his touch. But man was made in god's image, is that not what they say? Who exactly, is an imitation then? ]

[rotandriddles]

(A knowing smirk follows his laughter and Hades stretches his wings out, letting them brush the downy feathers of Zeus's own. The darkness wants to cling to the light - to become one with it - but it's impossible. In the face of Zeus's radiance, his shadows shiver and curl in on themselves.)

Who do you long for, brother?

[impartialsky]

[ Zeus' wings tremble. It's not unlike the hush of the wind through trees, stirring up petals and leaves. Hades' shadows shy away from him and his light, ever present and far reaching, reaches after it. This play has been going on ever since they were divided to their separate realms.

He lifts one hand and his fingers peel through Hades' long dark hair, cutting it and tangling it around his white palm like the sun through a storm. The blue of his eyes follow the movement. What is it to long? ]

[rotandriddles]

(Inhaling deeply, he holds the breath before releasing it in a soft exhale. The sound rattles and echoes like a cold gust of wind down a hollow tunnel. A sad smile graces his lips and he turns his head to kiss Zeus's pale palm.)

An emotion which causes suffering. (Here is a chance for him to be a protective sibling, yet Hades believes in giving choices to the deserving.) Mortals feel it often.

It is a desire to obtain what you do not possess.