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@kindeaths          ‎⠀⺌    aww, thank you!

⠀⠀ ⠀his throat was dry, the side of his neck tingling where her nose had brushed, nuzzled. he moved slow, steps methodical. lifting her with strength in his arms, one hand steady at her waist, the other guiding her hip, circling her leg around him. heat struck him in sharp waves, a low ache in his chest, and he grunted again, caught off guard by the way she fit. she was perfect. he brought his nose to hers, breath brushing hers, his own restraint thinning.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ “i could hurt you.” rurik murmured, low, as he sauntered to the open balcony. the next words surprised even him, but he meant them.       “a vulnerable woman is power. her greatest weakness isn’t emotion, laden or not, but the lies another feeds her.”        he paused, then turned, carrying her to the bed. there was more to both of them, the pulse under skin and bone thrumming with something raw. knowing the man he could become, he knew she could /handle/ it. reaching the silk edge, he sat, heat of her body pressing into his. palms flattened against her back, slow drags memorizing the soft curve beneath his fingers, the way her weight molded to his.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ “you consider me a god.” he settled her onto his lap, anchoring, heavy.      “yet i am not of the same kind. not when mortality still courses in me. call it what you will.” his grip tightened, fingers digging just enough.⠀ “but this?”    a breath, charged, slipped dangerously low. 
            
            ⠀⠀ “this is maddening. meddling with a man like me comes with consequences.”

⠀⠀⠀ his pulse thickened. a stealth of a gaze hardened, jaw tightening as a slow breath escaped him, drawn to the heat rolling off her body. it wasn’t new. women threw themselves at him all the time; the underworld was full of it. even enemies, slipping past their masks, had /begged/ for a touch of his world. but rurik never let anyone near. sometimes, though, the quiet gnawed at him, isolation pressing into his chest until touch became a need, a pressure in his bones. death had made him sharp, dangerous, a beast daring him to break laws both mortal and divine. but now, standing in confusion, lust, and divinity, he looked at her. the greeks had not lied. her beauty burned past everything else, any sane man would kneel at her /mercy/. maybe, for a fleeting second, he almost wanted to.     the war inside him was heavy, but he buried it, sharpening his focus on her.⠀⠀⠀    ﹝   ︡…    ﹞         the second time she pressed against him, a low guttural growl spilled out, bursting from deep in his chest before he swallowed it down. his fingers dug into her hipbones, muscle tightening, shoulders bracing as he held her against him.
            
            ⠀⠀never had a woman given him this kind of /attention/. not worship, not conquest, but like he was the axis of her world, and she the gravity holding him there. it pressed low in his stomach, heavily urgent. so he did what any man like him would do, even as his mind whispered against it. he gave in, just enough, a low grunt breaking through. her words dripped honey, but carried something darker underneath. she hid as much as he did, that much was clear.

ID: @hyrded            if i admit the vulnerability of my state.. what do you think it makes me? a weak goddess, or a weak woman?       * her gaze fixed upon him, her voice tinged with unsolved tension, secrets she forbade even the air to witness. yet she pressed herself closer, arm slinking around his neck, a gesture layered with claims, questions, and desire. she only hoped he understood, and complied. *

ID: @HELFIRE                lucian is a coward,      * she bit out, though his creature bore no fault. the sting of betrayal lingered, a reminder of how much she had trusted, how much she had risked, how little could ever be shared with the world. she drew a slow breath. *       will you cease your worries for another time. i wish to be alone. i have told you all that you asked. rest assured, there is nothing else to demand of me. 

ID: @HELFIRE          * one of her brows lifted in quiet surprise. unspoken, tidal tension hummed between them, a remnant of a decade-old history. hera tore herself from the row of scrolls and codices she had gathered for study, laying them across the broad stone table, weighted with bronze. behind her, a brazier hissed low, casting flickering light across marble columns and the coffered ceiling. the library smelled of cedar and aged parchment, silent but alive with the ghosts of knowledge. she tried not to focus on elder’s voice, though it sounded altered, stripped of the kin warmth she had once known. he was all she had, the only person who had ever truly mattered. the gods refused to accept him among their own, his origin foreign to olympus, yet she could not care. for all her divine blood, she had found no family among the olympian gods. loyalty had been rare, fleeting, even her own father had never ever offered it—sverrir alone had been constant. a ragged sigh tore from her lips. *     i do not approve of your meddling in my affairs. but yes, i did. only for a little while.       * her fingers flexed, adorned with simple bronze rings. her chiton of pale linen fell in precise folds, belted beneath the breast; a dark himation rested across her shoulders, clasped at the throat with a modest pin. she mustered a semblance of composure, pretending the world between them was ordinary. she turned, offering her back to the one who was her protector, her confidant, her forbidden anchor. yet the moment she did, her expression fell, hidden behind the towering shelves. acrid disappointment settled deep in her stomach, a silent echo of longing. * 
                       * from here, she could recall him—the faint scent of him lingering across the library, memories of laughter and lessons, hunts she had begged to join, nights spent merely listening to his voice. those moments had been fleeting, fragile, yet they had marked her entirely. *        

⠀⠀⠀  the reaper had descended into mount olympus by an unknown force—-whether her summoning or fate itself tugging him through the chaos of a world that did not belong to him. ⠀⠀⠀    ﹝   ︡…    ﹞ ⠀⠀he had done what was necessary in the moment. barefoot, the jagged stones tore at his soles, leaving scabs and fresh pain. all around him, carnage sprawled in patterns that felt eerily familiar, echoing the blood-soaked fields of egypt where he had waged countless battles. lowering the woman to the ground, rurik cast a wary glance behind them. a carved path gaped hollow and desolate, as if the mountain itself had been sundered in anger.
            
            ⠀⠀⠀ “can’t stay here,” he murmured, the words tasting foreign and yet strangely inevitable. frowning, he realized he understood the sound of her voice as if it had always been part of him. “were you the one to summon me?”

ID: @hyrded        * her head moved in a small refusal, timid despite the tremor passing through her limbs. ruin had taken hold of the air itself. smoke crept low and thick, bitter on the tongue, stinging the lungs with every breath drawn. it wrenched a cough from her chest, and instinct drove her arms tighter around the man’s neck, fingers digging into the warmth of living flesh. he was a stranger. untouched by the hours before his coming. unaware of the gathering that had filled these heights. the amazons had been summoned to council, a rare convocation beneath the eye of zeus, held upon the high courts where stone once rang with divine voices. yet olympus had never been a place of lasting accord. the gods were quick to wrath, quicker still to envy. her sight blurred as she looked upon the broken terraces and fallen columns, the sacred planes marred by ash and shattered marble. jealousy burned deep and sharp within her, a wound no fire could cauterize. even here, where clouds once veiled perfection and snow crowned the peaks untouched by mortal feet, peace could not endure. mount olympus had always borne the weight of divine rivalry. *    will you put me down? please. 

&.     fabulous work of art.   

[ * ]  CHARACTER THREADS.     2O25. 3O. 12.

[ * ]  ⵎYRA, THE CHOSEN HEIR OF DREAM REALM. FAVOURED BY THE CREATOR, WAS GIFTED OUT OF LOVE TO THE DYING STAR OF DYSTOPIA. 

[ * ]  GREEK MYTHOLOGY INSPIRED WONDER WOMAN, REWRITTEN IN BLOOD; A PENALTY OF SIN COVETED.