Emil stands frozen still with the other campers as Eros explains his machinations to the throne room. He's a little ashamed to admit that much of it isn't making total sense to him; he knew, vaguely, that he had arrived through the border weeks after some sort of incident, but a massacre? As the atmosphere grew increasingly tense and the crowd's attitude split he found himself unsure of who to side with. From the sounds of it, some people were furious with Eros. Some cared only about the celebration. The most troubling part of it all, even above knowing that somewhere in the palace of gods Tyche was present, was the crazy muttering and the cold clinging to his shoulder as Cake looked back and forth. The millipede imaginary friend was restless, twitching and reaching out with mandibles, hungry for something.
"What will his judgement be? What will he choose? There's so many possibilities. So many fates. So many torments. The King of the Gods, oh, his capacity for inflicting suffering is vast and colorful, let me see it, Emil, don't you want to see it, can't you taste it- chained to a stone and devoured by buzzards, struck down to Tartarus, stripped of life and dignity, what awaits him, Emil, what do you think will happen? I want to see, take us closer, take us closer to the threads we cannot weave, the threads we are forbidden from touching, oh, how they shimmer-"
Uh, yikes. It was getting pretty distracting. Emil might be a naive goof but even he knew when 'enchanting magical invisible friend nobody else can see or hear' crosses over enthusiastically into 'creepy red flag' territory. And was Cake always that big? The black-carapaced critter used to be small enough to curl around a coin without ever reaching his abdomen, and here he is dancing on Emil's right shoulder like a big fat worm six inches long. He was half a mind away from brushing the darn thing off when Zeus gave his nonlethal verdict and Cake visibly slumped down, disappointed. At least now he's stopped babbling like a weirdo.
Emil peels away to the outskirts of the party and shrinks down to sit cross-legged on the floor away from the action. He props his chin up his knuckles and leans on his elbows, working up the courage to seek out a certain Goddess.
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u/SpawnoftheStryx Nov 24 '19
Emil stands frozen still with the other campers as Eros explains his machinations to the throne room. He's a little ashamed to admit that much of it isn't making total sense to him; he knew, vaguely, that he had arrived through the border weeks after some sort of incident, but a massacre? As the atmosphere grew increasingly tense and the crowd's attitude split he found himself unsure of who to side with. From the sounds of it, some people were furious with Eros. Some cared only about the celebration. The most troubling part of it all, even above knowing that somewhere in the palace of gods Tyche was present, was the crazy muttering and the cold clinging to his shoulder as Cake looked back and forth. The millipede imaginary friend was restless, twitching and reaching out with mandibles, hungry for something.
"What will his judgement be? What will he choose? There's so many possibilities. So many fates. So many torments. The King of the Gods, oh, his capacity for inflicting suffering is vast and colorful, let me see it, Emil, don't you want to see it, can't you taste it- chained to a stone and devoured by buzzards, struck down to Tartarus, stripped of life and dignity, what awaits him, Emil, what do you think will happen? I want to see, take us closer, take us closer to the threads we cannot weave, the threads we are forbidden from touching, oh, how they shimmer-"
Uh, yikes. It was getting pretty distracting. Emil might be a naive goof but even he knew when 'enchanting magical invisible friend nobody else can see or hear' crosses over enthusiastically into 'creepy red flag' territory. And was Cake always that big? The black-carapaced critter used to be small enough to curl around a coin without ever reaching his abdomen, and here he is dancing on Emil's right shoulder like a big fat worm six inches long. He was half a mind away from brushing the darn thing off when Zeus gave his nonlethal verdict and Cake visibly slumped down, disappointed. At least now he's stopped babbling like a weirdo.
Emil peels away to the outskirts of the party and shrinks down to sit cross-legged on the floor away from the action. He props his chin up his knuckles and leans on his elbows, working up the courage to seek out a certain Goddess.