Ever wondered what it would be like if the mythology of the Ancient Greeks crossed with a biker gang? Get ready to find out.
The balance of two worlds distorted, and terrifying beasts of legend appearing on Earth, it is up to a band of former gods and goddesses to save the world; all while preserving their true identities.
Ross walked into the smoky bar, weaving expertly through the tables and sitting down in a booth, feeling the woman across from him stiffen.
“Boy Love, is it?”
He nodded, sensing her satisfaction. Pythia had predicted this, no doubt.
“We have spoken before, in the other realm. I have come for a reason, Oracle.”
She laughed, a delicate twinkling laugh, before sighing.
“I had known enough.”
Meeting her reddish-brown eyes with his unseeing blue, Ross gestured for the bartender to bring him a drink.
“You are truly blind, then.”
Wincing at her remark, Ross nodded again.
“And have been since birth.”
That much was true enough; what most didn’t realize was that his other senses had long made up for it-not to mention an almost ‘sixth-sense’ he had, being able to feel a person’s aura, their emotions, the extent of their inner and outer beauty. It came with the genes.
Pythia took a sip of her own drink, thoughtful.
“What is it you ask of me, Son of Beauty?”
“I need a prophecy,” he said, taking the glass brought to him, “I need to know how to return to Olympia, and how to make sure the others can return with me. How to return the balance to both worlds.”
He heard the twinkling laugh again, though this time it was more of a bitter chuckle.
“I have not my chasm. I require a connection to the gods for them to speak through me.”
Ross downed the rest of his drink, rolling up the sleeves of his jacket.
“Am I not sufficient?”
The prophetess slid her glass aside, taking hold of one of Ross’ wrists with her warm hands.
“I have no certainty that this will work but, with any luck, I might open a link between the worlds.”
Both of her thumbs sought out his pulse, pressing into his skin, both of their heartbeats suddenly locking into place. Pythia breathed sharply, head jerking back, but hands gripping even tighter.
She suddenly looked at Ross, head askew and eyes glowing white.
“Έρως. Έχουμε περίμενε.”she said, voice unearthly and in many different tones at once.
Ross leaned forwards, eyes widening, and spoke quickly.
“Μιλάω να αναζητήσουν συμβουλή, θεούς.”
Pythia tilted her head to the other side, eyes glowing brighter.
“Η κατάσταση είναι λεπτή. Θα πρέπει να ληφθεί μέριμνα. Πρέπει να νικήσουμε τις Γοργόνες.”
The light faded instantly, Pythia pulling her hands away and gasping for breath, exhausted.
Ross stood, smiling grimly.
“I suppose, as far as I can be. It seems that the gorgons have also been brought to this land.”
The oracle stood as well, following him just outside the bar and into the night.
“Is this farewell, then?”
Noticing the anticipation in the young woman’s voice, and mutely registering the beauty rolling off of her in waves, Ross jerked a thumb towards the group of people milling about in the lot, all sporting the same jacket as his.
“Your help is much appreciated, Pythia, but duty calls. I do not wish to further strain your mortal burden.”
The priestess smiled, bowing her head slightly.
“It was an honour.”
Ross took her hand and gently pressed his lips to her knuckles, before striding off with a nod of his head. He could feel her surprise and pleasure even as he entered the parking lot, only further proof to the god's abilities.
“Nice job, dude!”
Ross sighed at Dominic’s remark, annoyed even further at the sound of a clinking beer bottle.
“Give the drinks a rest, man” he muttered, bothered.
Dominic seemed to give some mumbled reply, one that was ignored entirely. Ross swung his quiver over a shoulder, grabbing his bow, and pushed his snow-white wings through the slits in his jacket.
The five-or-so of his crew gathered, listening casually to the news he'd brought. The gods still in Olympia had things 'under control', and would take care of the problem.
Seeing as how these promises had held up in the past, it was a bare-faced lie.