p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"strongemCHAPTER I/em/strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"strongemThe Typical Olympian Lifestyle: Party Kidnappings/em/strong/p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongTITLE : Time Traveling to Olympus : Reading the House of Hades/strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongSUM/strongstrongMARY ( FULL ) : /strongThe war was over, the battle had been won. A primordial raised fell asleep again. Seven mortals, each with the blood of immortals flowing in them, had saved the Gods. Times had been changed; dark fates had been vanquished. The Greeks were proclaimed masters of tragedy, but for once, Melpomene's sweet hymns did not sing the last song. For once, an Epicedium was not the end; Hope had reigned high. Then came Time, and it all started unravelling. A single moment that had changed the directions of fate was rubbed out from Existence; destined never to happen. And the only solution to cure any of this was no proper solution at all – but it was all they had. Hiding it from the Olympians, conspiring with Protogenoi, the Seven must travel back in time to kindle hope for that one moment to happen, when Mortals became the Saviors; Heroes became Gods. The drawback – a new, unpredictable timeline, one which Chronos himself is unwilling to unravel. Threads shall become noils, silks into rags. This is the End – the last or the first, a rebirth of all Godkind. No one is safe. No pantheon can survive, emalone ... /emAfter all, emUnited we stand, divided we fall .../em/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongFANDOM : A/U - Heroes of Olympus, with some OOC ness from a few characters./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongAUTHOR : The best one in the world. Just Kidding, emspan style="text-decoration-line: underline;"TheGoldenScribe/span/em/strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongPROTAGONISTS :/strong Annabeth Chase, Frank Zhang, Hazel Levesque, Jason Grace, Leo Valdez, Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson, Piper McLean, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano, Vague Primordials ( The Seven + 3 are Alphabetically Written )./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongMAIN CHARACTERS :/strong (In this Chapter) The Olympians+2, Multiple Godly Buggers, Campers./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongMAJOR FLASHBACK CHARACTERS : /strongN.A./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongPAIRINGS : /strongCanon and None, except for the slight Zephyrus/Nico di Angelo tinge./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongRATING : /strongTeenage/Kid+ for a shitty plot and the occasional unacceptable word./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongOWNERSHIP : /strongPJO, HoO is the sole and unanimous property of ol' Uncle Rick and anyone claiming otherwise should take a swim in Cocytus. But this fanfic and it's plot belongs to me. Along with that, various Deities not in Uncle Rick's books shall make an appearance./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongDISCLAIMER : /strongHas Polytheism, Syncretism and all the other stuff. PURPLE PROSE, TOO./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongWARNINGS :/strong Nico is as gay as can be, so if you have a problem with my displaying it, die. Or close this RED /emis the heir to all Oracles, and I shall use this mercilessly. Since Uncle Rick is on a roll, this will not be completely canon as it proceeds and ToA comes out. I am an awful writer, so please try and forgive me./p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"emstrongA/N: Back after ages. While I write this, no longer is my hand clenched around Oreos and computer keyboards that refuse to be pressed. I've tried to improve this, lessen the cliches, but the story might seem unsightly and dull./strong/em/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongemApollo/em: Hey! Oreos are splendid: a travesty of molten chocolate wrapping tightly a deceptive drape of white, innocent as Lucifer's cloak. What are you staring at? You can't run the same gag twice, surely. And anyways, the cloth that girdles father's loins brings to the mind unsightly images – can't possibly use that simile./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongHermes: You have my backing on all counts, brother mine, but why the purple? Oreos are splendid, of course – I can recite multiple tales of theft, biscuits and glory – but they needn't be expressed like emfoie gras/em on the Ritz menu./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongIris: You saw your own father naked? Of course you did – you guys rarely wore anything in the early days./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongApollo: Actually, the artists invariably under-dressed – and emasculated – us. We always wore lioncloths, at the very least. No, I once walked in when he and Hera were using the throne to its utmost potential – I never knew Gods could bend that way./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongHera em(changing the topic)/em: Why the Ritz? We aren't in England anymore – not since the early 19th Century, anyways. And Apollo, you really shouldn't make allusions to Christianity in front of Zeus or Ares – you emknow /emhow sore they are over their challenges being constantly ignored./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongHermes: Why emnot /emthe Ritz? If you really want to know, though, I've been dating this really cute British girl, who's the sauciest of sauciers at the Ritz restaurant. As for my hippie father, – oh, stunt thy glares, lady, your eyes wound like daggers sharp – well, he's too busy polishing that glorified chair of his to care./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongAdrestia: For the latter, I sincerely doubt my father can read or recognise words with more than 4 syllables, unless they're battle terminology. Otherwise, non of Athena's spawns would've gotten away with the rot they wrote about him as myths./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongCassiopeia: Speaking of chairs, could someone straighten mine? My hair keeps falling onto my mirror due to anti-gravity./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongPoseidon: NO! You were placed there for your vanity! Who gave emher/em a emmirror/em, anyways?/strong/p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"em–Ø ∆ Ø–br /em/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"strongAt Olympus./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"strongem1st August, 2016./em/strong emFeast of Spes, Sacred to Juno./em/p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The elevator song was beginning to irk Euterpe, Godly DJ Extraordinaire./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Technically, it was less of a song and more of a repetitive dissonance involving an amateur hissing and spitting through a flute while someone with Parkinson's fumbled on a keyboard, but veracity and pedantry made it none the less torturous. Given that the flute was supposed to be her symbol, this auditory ambush seemed all the more offensive./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"If Tartarus had a theme tune, this would be it./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Euterpe was not, a 'normal' muse, even by the exalted modern standards. Long gone were flowing chitons and heavy peplons, double edged flutes for elegiac poetry – while she occasionally thumbed through Poe's flicks and other such classics, she now spent most her time listening to old emEvanescence /emtapes and mixing beats in the emOdeum/em, occasionally the emLavo/em, too. Modern music was, after all, so much cooler; which was exactly why portions of her were constantly roaming around the world, searching for a voice she could raise; Simon Cowell was absolutely useless in such delicate matters./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"This one, though .../p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Honestly, what was with Zeus and his paranoia ? If it hadn't been for that idiot, she could've simply teleported there, or even flown. As it was, the eight Winds ( or was that sixteen? ) pretty much dropped off anyone who came within 2 miles of the place – Hesperus' back was still bent in four places – and teleportation was pretty much impossible, what with Terminus being given full reign on deciding who got in and who out. The legless buzzard – not that she had anything against handicapped people, of course – was unable to distinguish between a tired girl wanting to pop onto her bed and a mad Giant wanting to assassinate the Gods./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"She heaved a dramatic sigh of relief when a ping ran out, made to assure all passengers that the 600th floor was here./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Running outside, she banged into the blue dress of Eleos, who turned into an extremely cute teen with an ear piercing and awesome pink highlights. Euterpe immediately draped herself onto the now-tangible entity and almost instinctively began pulling off her clothes as she exaggerated her pain and sorrow despite knowing fully well that the other had seen through this deception./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The only Greek diety without a 'divine form' as the colloquial ran, the aid of Hestia was perceived by mortals and immortals alike merely as they wished to see her – the image they considered most comforting. Her lack of imagery and portraits only cemented her vague and transient appearance, but the Goddess of Compassion's binding jurisdiction prevented her from losing her sanity or existence. She was also a magnificent listener, and the cutest shrink the world'd ever seen./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Eleos, compassion evident on her face despite the slight sigh of exasperation as she urged the clothes on, stroking the back of Euterpe till her fellow goddess purred peacefully into her arms – clinging with such languor that she pretty much melted onto her./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"One part of Eleos mused upon whether satiating her fellow immortal's needs would really help her out, but chose not to act upon it; her counterpart's consent wasn't exactly assured in this situation, and she would rather not take any liberties. While musing upon this conundrum, a slight notion of being the result of a writer's block scrambled through her head, but was whisked away just as fast./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Her fellow goddess had, in this span of time, switched on her iPod to the officious hollering that made up her mixtape, now solid once more. This cacophony solicited a loud squeal rather unbecoming of a deca-centuries old fourth-dimensional being whose sentience surpassed any and all Euclidean principles – and whose longevity was the result of a horny Olympian with the noble ambits of looking cool in front of his gf's sisters after a long spiel of rejections – as Parthenos ( not the epithet, but the suicidal semi-goddess who now ran multiple helplines with her sister ) ambled towards the pair./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"It had been rather awkward when Rhoeo'd discovered this turn of events; but then, everything about the exchange had been an ungainly narrative, right down to her being tossed into the sea in Deucalion's Ark because her dad couldn't believe his daughter had dated a god./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Eleos excused herself now that her job was done, smiling whole-heartedly at the profound change of temperament in the erstwhile perpetually dismal maiden of Astraea. Collecting a portion of her expansive essence from the various corners of the world she was scattered through, a part of her vanished to one of the many somewhere in Olympus to offer her services to the needy./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"As long as pain existed to be soothed, she would persist, ever ready to answer the call./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Far below in some corner of the reviving earth, under inky stars a young demigod heard a rustle through the leaves near her campfire, and sat up straight till being put at ease by a blue-draped, distinctively humanoid shape with a reassuring smile and a warm feel to it, unknowingly drawn to answer the melifluous voice asking if someone was there. Later on, under laurel-wreathed Soteria's gaze, the half blood would reach the Greek Camp, bleeding and ruffled but alive none the same./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Tonight, though, the log fire the child had been curled around grew brighter, the grass sprung green in the death of summer, and through the warm peaches and gold, it seemed that somewhere, far beyond, in the song and dance of Olympus' magnificent and bewildering parties, wine overflowing and sconces crackling with smells so delicious they disoriented their recipients, two dieties smiled in relief./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The motivation of this revelry - not that the frivolous bohemians of Olympus ever needed one - was the defeat of yet another outcropping of stereotypical and vague villainy that had followed the implosion of Gaea, and the re-instatement of Apollo as an Olympian with all that detailed. Serial contrarians to all manners of rationality, every diety and semi-immortal had chosen to take up a different pantheonic form despite the urging of Juno. Some of the more tipsy had even divided themselves into two for the same purposes, slurring dignifiedly through the affair and making life intimately frustrating for the serving nymphs, dryads and wind spirits./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Ganymede had thrown down his gauntlet ( and pitcher, and glasses, and cap, and the rose petals strewn in his hair ) and taken up to preaching the mass suppression by the ruling class of the helplessly, unwittingly immortalised proletariat after three different Zeus' ahead called upon him with eighty different orders at the same instant./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"So confusing was the entire debacle that the demigod had no idea what names to use what with Roman, Greek and even Etruscan beings glittering about, each name with its own implications./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Some had taken to it like fish with water. Whenever it seemed like the moment was becoming too dull, someone would shout out some random name with epithet to the price of some poor God or Goddess suddenly finding their dresses drenched, horns on their head or spears where their flowers should've been. Two heads had already rolled - luckily, Terminus's, who was the most comfortable one of the lot with having multiple bodies prop up simultaneously at the same time - and one had been a near escape./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Such was the conundrum that even minor gods were going to have migraines come morning. Some things were thankfully a constant, though./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Apollo, as usual, was hitting on multiple dryads at the same time; running a pleasant banter with those old enough to not be awestruck by his presence. Poseidon and Zeus were having a dignified discourse in the spirit of democratic philosophy, meandering passionately through a variety of topics both old and new./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Okay, you know what? They were shouting about whom mommy loved best. Hint; it was Hestia./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Artemis was trying to impede her hunters from surreptitiously shooting off stacked bottles from the competition a few of the demigods had going that the satyrs were eyeing with restless hunger; Nike's daughters were the only real competitors, the rest had given it off as a shoddy job and passed their castles onto Grover to distribute./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Hermes' sons were in a competition of stealing from, ironically, one part of their father, who was pick-pocketing Dionysus's Merlot cask from Laverna's backpack. This pretty much involved all the clichés of slapstick comedy, right down to the bashing of heads and sticking out of legs. The adamantine cask sailing through unadulterated air had bumped quite a few heads, including the King of Olympus' own, but he was too belaboured to take offence at its presence in restricted airspace./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The Seven + 2 had disappeared excepting the stragglers that were Annabeth and Reyna – conversing , and a bunch of syplhs and satyrs almost reduced to tears were running themselves crazy trying to find the stragglers. One of them – a younger one, did muster up the courage to ask his seniors why they hadn't gone and asked the Goddess Iris for help. After all, she wasn't exactly all that busy; merely offering everyone her cupcakes, of which the satyrs were big fans. Sympathetically patronizing clicks of the tongue met his rather rational question./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"In an avuncular tone, one replied, " my boy, if we did that, the author's plot device would fail drastically and the word limit would not be meaninglessly extended. You see, the lazy bugger has discovered an excess of characters and no way to rationally occupy them into the scene, due to which a rudimentary Occam's Razor has been utilised – albeit rather punitively for us. "/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The young one nodded rather intelligently, and immediately proceeded to commit to an impression so remarkably akin a fawn that it was improbable there wasn't any roman blood within his veins./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"This conundrum would've continued with a lot more filler material, but the author in truth emdid /emwant the titular blokes to be found. These whims being all-encompassing, the satyrs with divine help were finally able to rid this chapter of any more convoluted filler material. Upon being nudged by on of his aides, Zeus swirled up away from a rather bitter barb by one of the Poseidon fragments that was dancing with an indulgently peeved ( if there could be such a thing, she could pull it off ) Amphitrite./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Snatching a glass from Aeolus' feeble grasp – an airweight, that one – Zeus rang it for attention, to no avail; the only looks he got were those of his snickering brother's, and the servers who were slowly shrinking away. Angered in the face of this blatant insolence, he shot his hand petulantly across the room, the air carrying thousands of mugs and vases and gods knew what into Narcissus' mirror, whom Echo was desperately trying to teach how to dance. Bellona eagerly shot her lances out to smash them into splinters with a bo staff she'd somehow managed to acquire; the resulting dim, magnified by her most capable contributions, managed to accomplish what the tinkling failed at./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Now that he had everyone looking at him, Zeus gave a purposeful cough and began a repetition of a centuries old speech that he'd made just a few hours before the party had begun in the big-throne-chair room, but was stayed by a tomato aimed purposefully at his face by Demeter. Eager to avoid escalation of the event into a food fight, the nameless aid who was slowly becoming a rather important character as the fic progressed intervened./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"" In the name of brevity, let us do what we were really here for; award our saviors from yet another indescribable, vague evil hinted to be the triumvirate! " He waved a hand forward to signal that the aids pass on elixirs to mitigate the alcohol's influence./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"A wide hoop went through the crowd, a bunch of confused clapping by drunk but joyous buggers slowly awakening from their stupor. Annabeth elbowed Percy beside her. " Why couldn't they have given us whatever award they wanted to in the throne room itself, like they had last time round? " Her boyfriend's shrug was not exactly an intelligible answer, but a sudden spurt of coughing intended to disguise a rather redundant plot hole distracted both of them. This was Will Solace, now recovering from the sudden fire that the elixir had lit through his stomach, curled over with Nico awkwardly stroking his shoulder. The son of Hades had appeared rather suddenly as if alerted by a phlegm tracking mechanism, but none of them were paying attention to it anymore; all of the heroes busy looking dignified and stuff./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Apollo nudged Meg forward, beaming widely and now consolidated into one. Rachel, in her oracular garb and now officiated as the head of all of her precognitive compatriots messed with a blue handle that periodically sneaked out of her flowing robes./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The overly efficient servants, aided a little by the various gods and demi's around shuffled the flotsam and garbage out of the way to make for a large enough place for ceremonies. " We seriously should've done this in the Throne Room, " Annabeth whispered. A mystical shush whooshing through the air silenced her. Or, perhaps that was the author's invisible Scotch Tape – available at your nearest market for just ***. This fanfic being pro-globalisation, the price tag has been marked by asterisks so that readers of all nationalities may insert their own, personalised tags. Except for Somalia, whose currency is so hyperinflated right now that you'd need at least a dozen more floating stars./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The rickety economic strength of currencies in Plutus' domain notwithstanding, Zeus was merely seconds away from pushing golden apples down their throats when – in accordance to flow and narrative established previous version; oh, the rapacious claws of continuity, won't you take me another year .../p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Apologies, I was distracted once again. Oh, the ignominy!/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"As I was saying, the lot of heroes was about to be made immortal when a bright flash prompted instantaneous and absolute photo-degradation of the demigods, who now metamorphosed and coalesced into chunk of paper./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Quite an act; the post-masters would've knocked their hats off in applause and even Houdini hard-pressed to beat an escape like that – but then, that is why those blokes'd been the ones in Great Prophecies. Anyways, where 9 half-bloods should have been stood a letter./p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"{— ∆ —}/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongThe author's pitiful apologies:/strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongI know this was terrible. Give me some time, tho. Like all writers, I too hunger for reviews. Unlike most, though, I doubt this'll get anything but flames. Now, most of you are probabs here because you'll get to read the book for free./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongLet me dissuade you of this fantastical notion beforehand; as far as I can, I'll not pluck a single line from the book itself. In fact, this being a parody now, it'll probably end prematurely and I'll die a witch's death – warlocks were stoned. Seriously, though; don't be so stingy, people. It's been a couple of years, now./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"strongemThe Typical Olympian Lifestyle: Party Kidnappings/em/strong/p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongTITLE : Time Traveling to Olympus : Reading the House of Hades/strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongSUM/strongstrongMARY ( FULL ) : /strongThe war was over, the battle had been won. A primordial raised fell asleep again. Seven mortals, each with the blood of immortals flowing in them, had saved the Gods. Times had been changed; dark fates had been vanquished. The Greeks were proclaimed masters of tragedy, but for once, Melpomene's sweet hymns did not sing the last song. For once, an Epicedium was not the end; Hope had reigned high. Then came Time, and it all started unravelling. A single moment that had changed the directions of fate was rubbed out from Existence; destined never to happen. And the only solution to cure any of this was no proper solution at all – but it was all they had. Hiding it from the Olympians, conspiring with Protogenoi, the Seven must travel back in time to kindle hope for that one moment to happen, when Mortals became the Saviors; Heroes became Gods. The drawback – a new, unpredictable timeline, one which Chronos himself is unwilling to unravel. Threads shall become noils, silks into rags. This is the End – the last or the first, a rebirth of all Godkind. No one is safe. No pantheon can survive, emalone ... /emAfter all, emUnited we stand, divided we fall .../em/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongFANDOM : A/U - Heroes of Olympus, with some OOC ness from a few characters./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongAUTHOR : The best one in the world. Just Kidding, emspan style="text-decoration-line: underline;"TheGoldenScribe/span/em/strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongPROTAGONISTS :/strong Annabeth Chase, Frank Zhang, Hazel Levesque, Jason Grace, Leo Valdez, Nico di Angelo, Percy Jackson, Piper McLean, Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Reyna Avila Ramirez Arellano, Vague Primordials ( The Seven + 3 are Alphabetically Written )./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongMAIN CHARACTERS :/strong (In this Chapter) The Olympians+2, Multiple Godly Buggers, Campers./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongMAJOR FLASHBACK CHARACTERS : /strongN.A./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongPAIRINGS : /strongCanon and None, except for the slight Zephyrus/Nico di Angelo tinge./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongRATING : /strongTeenage/Kid+ for a shitty plot and the occasional unacceptable word./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongOWNERSHIP : /strongPJO, HoO is the sole and unanimous property of ol' Uncle Rick and anyone claiming otherwise should take a swim in Cocytus. But this fanfic and it's plot belongs to me. Along with that, various Deities not in Uncle Rick's books shall make an appearance./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongDISCLAIMER : /strongHas Polytheism, Syncretism and all the other stuff. PURPLE PROSE, TOO./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongWARNINGS :/strong Nico is as gay as can be, so if you have a problem with my displaying it, die. Or close this RED /emis the heir to all Oracles, and I shall use this mercilessly. Since Uncle Rick is on a roll, this will not be completely canon as it proceeds and ToA comes out. I am an awful writer, so please try and forgive me./p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"emstrongA/N: Back after ages. While I write this, no longer is my hand clenched around Oreos and computer keyboards that refuse to be pressed. I've tried to improve this, lessen the cliches, but the story might seem unsightly and dull./strong/em/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongemApollo/em: Hey! Oreos are splendid: a travesty of molten chocolate wrapping tightly a deceptive drape of white, innocent as Lucifer's cloak. What are you staring at? You can't run the same gag twice, surely. And anyways, the cloth that girdles father's loins brings to the mind unsightly images – can't possibly use that simile./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongHermes: You have my backing on all counts, brother mine, but why the purple? Oreos are splendid, of course – I can recite multiple tales of theft, biscuits and glory – but they needn't be expressed like emfoie gras/em on the Ritz menu./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongIris: You saw your own father naked? Of course you did – you guys rarely wore anything in the early days./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongApollo: Actually, the artists invariably under-dressed – and emasculated – us. We always wore lioncloths, at the very least. No, I once walked in when he and Hera were using the throne to its utmost potential – I never knew Gods could bend that way./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongHera em(changing the topic)/em: Why the Ritz? We aren't in England anymore – not since the early 19th Century, anyways. And Apollo, you really shouldn't make allusions to Christianity in front of Zeus or Ares – you emknow /emhow sore they are over their challenges being constantly ignored./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongHermes: Why emnot /emthe Ritz? If you really want to know, though, I've been dating this really cute British girl, who's the sauciest of sauciers at the Ritz restaurant. As for my hippie father, – oh, stunt thy glares, lady, your eyes wound like daggers sharp – well, he's too busy polishing that glorified chair of his to care./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongAdrestia: For the latter, I sincerely doubt my father can read or recognise words with more than 4 syllables, unless they're battle terminology. Otherwise, non of Athena's spawns would've gotten away with the rot they wrote about him as myths./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongCassiopeia: Speaking of chairs, could someone straighten mine? My hair keeps falling onto my mirror due to anti-gravity./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongPoseidon: NO! You were placed there for your vanity! Who gave emher/em a emmirror/em, anyways?/strong/p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"em–Ø ∆ Ø–br /em/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"strongAt Olympus./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"strongem1st August, 2016./em/strong emFeast of Spes, Sacred to Juno./em/p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The elevator song was beginning to irk Euterpe, Godly DJ Extraordinaire./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Technically, it was less of a song and more of a repetitive dissonance involving an amateur hissing and spitting through a flute while someone with Parkinson's fumbled on a keyboard, but veracity and pedantry made it none the less torturous. Given that the flute was supposed to be her symbol, this auditory ambush seemed all the more offensive./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"If Tartarus had a theme tune, this would be it./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Euterpe was not, a 'normal' muse, even by the exalted modern standards. Long gone were flowing chitons and heavy peplons, double edged flutes for elegiac poetry – while she occasionally thumbed through Poe's flicks and other such classics, she now spent most her time listening to old emEvanescence /emtapes and mixing beats in the emOdeum/em, occasionally the emLavo/em, too. Modern music was, after all, so much cooler; which was exactly why portions of her were constantly roaming around the world, searching for a voice she could raise; Simon Cowell was absolutely useless in such delicate matters./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"This one, though .../p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Honestly, what was with Zeus and his paranoia ? If it hadn't been for that idiot, she could've simply teleported there, or even flown. As it was, the eight Winds ( or was that sixteen? ) pretty much dropped off anyone who came within 2 miles of the place – Hesperus' back was still bent in four places – and teleportation was pretty much impossible, what with Terminus being given full reign on deciding who got in and who out. The legless buzzard – not that she had anything against handicapped people, of course – was unable to distinguish between a tired girl wanting to pop onto her bed and a mad Giant wanting to assassinate the Gods./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"She heaved a dramatic sigh of relief when a ping ran out, made to assure all passengers that the 600th floor was here./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Running outside, she banged into the blue dress of Eleos, who turned into an extremely cute teen with an ear piercing and awesome pink highlights. Euterpe immediately draped herself onto the now-tangible entity and almost instinctively began pulling off her clothes as she exaggerated her pain and sorrow despite knowing fully well that the other had seen through this deception./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The only Greek diety without a 'divine form' as the colloquial ran, the aid of Hestia was perceived by mortals and immortals alike merely as they wished to see her – the image they considered most comforting. Her lack of imagery and portraits only cemented her vague and transient appearance, but the Goddess of Compassion's binding jurisdiction prevented her from losing her sanity or existence. She was also a magnificent listener, and the cutest shrink the world'd ever seen./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Eleos, compassion evident on her face despite the slight sigh of exasperation as she urged the clothes on, stroking the back of Euterpe till her fellow goddess purred peacefully into her arms – clinging with such languor that she pretty much melted onto her./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"One part of Eleos mused upon whether satiating her fellow immortal's needs would really help her out, but chose not to act upon it; her counterpart's consent wasn't exactly assured in this situation, and she would rather not take any liberties. While musing upon this conundrum, a slight notion of being the result of a writer's block scrambled through her head, but was whisked away just as fast./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Her fellow goddess had, in this span of time, switched on her iPod to the officious hollering that made up her mixtape, now solid once more. This cacophony solicited a loud squeal rather unbecoming of a deca-centuries old fourth-dimensional being whose sentience surpassed any and all Euclidean principles – and whose longevity was the result of a horny Olympian with the noble ambits of looking cool in front of his gf's sisters after a long spiel of rejections – as Parthenos ( not the epithet, but the suicidal semi-goddess who now ran multiple helplines with her sister ) ambled towards the pair./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"It had been rather awkward when Rhoeo'd discovered this turn of events; but then, everything about the exchange had been an ungainly narrative, right down to her being tossed into the sea in Deucalion's Ark because her dad couldn't believe his daughter had dated a god./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Eleos excused herself now that her job was done, smiling whole-heartedly at the profound change of temperament in the erstwhile perpetually dismal maiden of Astraea. Collecting a portion of her expansive essence from the various corners of the world she was scattered through, a part of her vanished to one of the many somewhere in Olympus to offer her services to the needy./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"As long as pain existed to be soothed, she would persist, ever ready to answer the call./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Far below in some corner of the reviving earth, under inky stars a young demigod heard a rustle through the leaves near her campfire, and sat up straight till being put at ease by a blue-draped, distinctively humanoid shape with a reassuring smile and a warm feel to it, unknowingly drawn to answer the melifluous voice asking if someone was there. Later on, under laurel-wreathed Soteria's gaze, the half blood would reach the Greek Camp, bleeding and ruffled but alive none the same./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Tonight, though, the log fire the child had been curled around grew brighter, the grass sprung green in the death of summer, and through the warm peaches and gold, it seemed that somewhere, far beyond, in the song and dance of Olympus' magnificent and bewildering parties, wine overflowing and sconces crackling with smells so delicious they disoriented their recipients, two dieties smiled in relief./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The motivation of this revelry - not that the frivolous bohemians of Olympus ever needed one - was the defeat of yet another outcropping of stereotypical and vague villainy that had followed the implosion of Gaea, and the re-instatement of Apollo as an Olympian with all that detailed. Serial contrarians to all manners of rationality, every diety and semi-immortal had chosen to take up a different pantheonic form despite the urging of Juno. Some of the more tipsy had even divided themselves into two for the same purposes, slurring dignifiedly through the affair and making life intimately frustrating for the serving nymphs, dryads and wind spirits./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Ganymede had thrown down his gauntlet ( and pitcher, and glasses, and cap, and the rose petals strewn in his hair ) and taken up to preaching the mass suppression by the ruling class of the helplessly, unwittingly immortalised proletariat after three different Zeus' ahead called upon him with eighty different orders at the same instant./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"So confusing was the entire debacle that the demigod had no idea what names to use what with Roman, Greek and even Etruscan beings glittering about, each name with its own implications./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Some had taken to it like fish with water. Whenever it seemed like the moment was becoming too dull, someone would shout out some random name with epithet to the price of some poor God or Goddess suddenly finding their dresses drenched, horns on their head or spears where their flowers should've been. Two heads had already rolled - luckily, Terminus's, who was the most comfortable one of the lot with having multiple bodies prop up simultaneously at the same time - and one had been a near escape./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Such was the conundrum that even minor gods were going to have migraines come morning. Some things were thankfully a constant, though./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Apollo, as usual, was hitting on multiple dryads at the same time; running a pleasant banter with those old enough to not be awestruck by his presence. Poseidon and Zeus were having a dignified discourse in the spirit of democratic philosophy, meandering passionately through a variety of topics both old and new./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Okay, you know what? They were shouting about whom mommy loved best. Hint; it was Hestia./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Artemis was trying to impede her hunters from surreptitiously shooting off stacked bottles from the competition a few of the demigods had going that the satyrs were eyeing with restless hunger; Nike's daughters were the only real competitors, the rest had given it off as a shoddy job and passed their castles onto Grover to distribute./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Hermes' sons were in a competition of stealing from, ironically, one part of their father, who was pick-pocketing Dionysus's Merlot cask from Laverna's backpack. This pretty much involved all the clichés of slapstick comedy, right down to the bashing of heads and sticking out of legs. The adamantine cask sailing through unadulterated air had bumped quite a few heads, including the King of Olympus' own, but he was too belaboured to take offence at its presence in restricted airspace./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The Seven + 2 had disappeared excepting the stragglers that were Annabeth and Reyna – conversing , and a bunch of syplhs and satyrs almost reduced to tears were running themselves crazy trying to find the stragglers. One of them – a younger one, did muster up the courage to ask his seniors why they hadn't gone and asked the Goddess Iris for help. After all, she wasn't exactly all that busy; merely offering everyone her cupcakes, of which the satyrs were big fans. Sympathetically patronizing clicks of the tongue met his rather rational question./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"In an avuncular tone, one replied, " my boy, if we did that, the author's plot device would fail drastically and the word limit would not be meaninglessly extended. You see, the lazy bugger has discovered an excess of characters and no way to rationally occupy them into the scene, due to which a rudimentary Occam's Razor has been utilised – albeit rather punitively for us. "/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The young one nodded rather intelligently, and immediately proceeded to commit to an impression so remarkably akin a fawn that it was improbable there wasn't any roman blood within his veins./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"This conundrum would've continued with a lot more filler material, but the author in truth emdid /emwant the titular blokes to be found. These whims being all-encompassing, the satyrs with divine help were finally able to rid this chapter of any more convoluted filler material. Upon being nudged by on of his aides, Zeus swirled up away from a rather bitter barb by one of the Poseidon fragments that was dancing with an indulgently peeved ( if there could be such a thing, she could pull it off ) Amphitrite./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Snatching a glass from Aeolus' feeble grasp – an airweight, that one – Zeus rang it for attention, to no avail; the only looks he got were those of his snickering brother's, and the servers who were slowly shrinking away. Angered in the face of this blatant insolence, he shot his hand petulantly across the room, the air carrying thousands of mugs and vases and gods knew what into Narcissus' mirror, whom Echo was desperately trying to teach how to dance. Bellona eagerly shot her lances out to smash them into splinters with a bo staff she'd somehow managed to acquire; the resulting dim, magnified by her most capable contributions, managed to accomplish what the tinkling failed at./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Now that he had everyone looking at him, Zeus gave a purposeful cough and began a repetition of a centuries old speech that he'd made just a few hours before the party had begun in the big-throne-chair room, but was stayed by a tomato aimed purposefully at his face by Demeter. Eager to avoid escalation of the event into a food fight, the nameless aid who was slowly becoming a rather important character as the fic progressed intervened./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"" In the name of brevity, let us do what we were really here for; award our saviors from yet another indescribable, vague evil hinted to be the triumvirate! " He waved a hand forward to signal that the aids pass on elixirs to mitigate the alcohol's influence./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"A wide hoop went through the crowd, a bunch of confused clapping by drunk but joyous buggers slowly awakening from their stupor. Annabeth elbowed Percy beside her. " Why couldn't they have given us whatever award they wanted to in the throne room itself, like they had last time round? " Her boyfriend's shrug was not exactly an intelligible answer, but a sudden spurt of coughing intended to disguise a rather redundant plot hole distracted both of them. This was Will Solace, now recovering from the sudden fire that the elixir had lit through his stomach, curled over with Nico awkwardly stroking his shoulder. The son of Hades had appeared rather suddenly as if alerted by a phlegm tracking mechanism, but none of them were paying attention to it anymore; all of the heroes busy looking dignified and stuff./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Apollo nudged Meg forward, beaming widely and now consolidated into one. Rachel, in her oracular garb and now officiated as the head of all of her precognitive compatriots messed with a blue handle that periodically sneaked out of her flowing robes./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The overly efficient servants, aided a little by the various gods and demi's around shuffled the flotsam and garbage out of the way to make for a large enough place for ceremonies. " We seriously should've done this in the Throne Room, " Annabeth whispered. A mystical shush whooshing through the air silenced her. Or, perhaps that was the author's invisible Scotch Tape – available at your nearest market for just ***. This fanfic being pro-globalisation, the price tag has been marked by asterisks so that readers of all nationalities may insert their own, personalised tags. Except for Somalia, whose currency is so hyperinflated right now that you'd need at least a dozen more floating stars./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"The rickety economic strength of currencies in Plutus' domain notwithstanding, Zeus was merely seconds away from pushing golden apples down their throats when – in accordance to flow and narrative established previous version; oh, the rapacious claws of continuity, won't you take me another year .../p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Apologies, I was distracted once again. Oh, the ignominy!/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"As I was saying, the lot of heroes was about to be made immortal when a bright flash prompted instantaneous and absolute photo-degradation of the demigods, who now metamorphosed and coalesced into chunk of paper./p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"Quite an act; the post-masters would've knocked their hats off in applause and even Houdini hard-pressed to beat an escape like that – but then, that is why those blokes'd been the ones in Great Prophecies. Anyways, where 9 half-bloods should have been stood a letter./p
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p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium; text-align: center;"{— ∆ —}/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongThe author's pitiful apologies:/strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongI know this was terrible. Give me some time, tho. Like all writers, I too hunger for reviews. Unlike most, though, I doubt this'll get anything but flames. Now, most of you are probabs here because you'll get to read the book for free./strong/p
p style="font-family: Times; font-size: medium;"strongLet me dissuade you of this fantastical notion beforehand; as far as I can, I'll not pluck a single line from the book itself. In fact, this being a parody now, it'll probably end prematurely and I'll die a witch's death – warlocks were stoned. Seriously, though; don't be so stingy, people. It's been a couple of years, now./strong/p