The idea of changing that has been brought up a few times, but the monks and priests are -understandably, if with a certain degree of bias- rather against it.
There's no divine palace sitting at the top. No Zeus sitting on a throne.
As noted, each different group of Hellenes had their own Olympus. No doubt the
true place is separate from the world, but can connect to any of them. Like the tallest mountain on Themyscira...
Except.
I hold aloft a mug filled with the Cider of Discord, take a sip-
No doubt made from the
Apples of Discord. I'm sure it has a
heady flavour.
And as I swallow I couldn't say what it tasted like only that it left me shuddering, and I have no idea whether it's good-shuddering or bad.
-and then pour the rest of it on the scree-covered ground. Next, I drop a pile of small sticks and kindling out of subspace and set it on fire. Ah, add some petrol? Better. Drop a pile of cow organs on top of that.
Heh. Like the
best thing you've ever drank, and the
worst, all at once, eh? Just the sort of thing Eris would brew.
Because while I can't do magic, I'm perfectly capable of performing rituals that existing magic will react to. I've got no idea why the Olympians tied their rituals to the burning of animal organs but I'll admit that does make things simpler. Then I hold out the cup and wait.
The smell's interesting. I mean, it's definitely beefy, but at the same time it's clearly different from the muscle-tissue I usually eat.
Well, it's better than
human sacrifice. I doubt the Hellenes would have put up with
that for long.
I watch the pile blacken and burn.
We decided on this method of entry because it's respectful and… Frankly, the alternative was to swap places with the Ophidian and… While she could exist in Divine Olympus, we're not sure that Divine Olympus could survive having her exist inside it. And in
After all, this isn't you coming knocking with the metaphysical equivalent of pitchforks and torches... This is more of a
polite visit.
Hard. Rough. Unyielding.
fact, I…
Aw. I almost miss the alternate font for his magical intoxication. Guess he's more resistant to such a mild, wide-spread effect.
I raise my right hand, my
Gather. Flow. Bind. Life.
tattoos… There. Their presence apparent even through my armour. Like my arm is an arm and a
Ooh, things have gone all
metaphorical, have they?
Leaver. Holding. Grasping.
tool at the same time. Welcome to the thaumosphere, or at least the bits the Olympians have formatted for their own convenience.
Honestly, I'm surprised he hasn't started to take on a snake-ish appearance. Perhaps that'll come later as his temper gets worn down.
I take a moment to look around
Growing. Flowing. Reaching. Calling.
And suddenly, Olympus begins to
loom...
and try to let the concept-objects just sort of… Flow over me, interface with me. The thing and the idea of the thing. It's not… Harmful, and…
Hunger. Hunger. Hunger.
Hello,
Best Snek. Or at least, the bits of you stuck in his soul like an orange-chocolate-chip cookie.
There's that. I can actually feel it beat in my chest not at all like a second heart actually but that's the only metaphor that's even sort of accurate. I take a moment to press my hands to my chest, getting used to the essence of my own existence.
And then I turn my eyes upward, to the
That must be a strange feeling, to sense the
difference of your own soul...
Power. Greatness. Grandeur.
of the Palace of Olympus. The path up is a path and the idea of a path
"Oh, that's a
lot of stairs..."
Journey. Travel. Conveyance.
and to put one foot on it is to step off it at your destination. Interesting thing about Olympus is that unlike Valhalla there isn't an elect class of semi-divine soldiers on guard duty. Ares might favour a warrior in life but once they're dead they belong to Hades. Unless they end up in the Elysian Fields, but that's still in Erebos. To get a soldier here they'd have to experience apotheosis and then they'd be a bit above guard duty. Some way off a group of women are sitting at a scroll-covered table, pens in hand and talking animatedly to one another.
Ah, of course there's a
shortcut for the trusted visitors. Only questing heroes have to take the
staircase. And those would probably be the
Muses, conferring over their latest project...
Nice gardens. I imagine that they stay like that because-.
"Paul."
I'm sure Demeter takes great
pride in her landscaping work.
I smile as a familiar woman approaches. "Calliope. How have you been?"
"Well enough. I have been spending time with my sisters, since… I gained my freedom. I trust that he-. The criminals-."
As rescued
here. Good to see she's been recovering from her ordeal well.
"Will be spending the rest of his natural life in prison. After that, it's not up to mortal justice."
She nods distractedly. "What brings you to Olympus?"
Now, I wonder who will get first dibs on his soul? Mammon is more likely, since
he was probably Christian. But I could see a deal being struck to let Mister Madoc be punished in
proper Hellenic fashion.
"I'm here to talk to Lord Zeus. It might be advisable to get to a safe distance."
"Ah?"
Yeah, that's not a good thing to hear. I mean, hearing someone who helped you greatly is about to have
words with your God-King...
"If things go badly."
"I-. I will pass that on. Zeus holds court through-" She points into the palace. "-there. I… Believe that he may be expecting you."
...Words which may spell trouble for
everyone else in the neighbourhood? I'd be worried too.
"Thank you. Be well."
Her face falls slightly as I stride off in the direction she indicated. Thing about the palace is that it's ancient Greek palatial, designed for a people who would have to use burning torches if they had no natural light. Olympus had to be created in that mode, so even though everything is exaggerated, it's not… Overwhelming. Or all that large. For example, having gotten this far, there's only a relatively small antechamber before-
That's true. People
might think Hellenic architecture leaned towards the huge thanks to temples like the Parthenon, but...
Temple. And a partly
ruined one at that...
"Ah, Lantern! Come! Come!"
-I'm outside the throne room, pushing open the door and walking inside with the owner's
And if there were any dust allowed in this place, that voice would probably have set it billowing.
Majesty. Power. Presence. Caged lightning. Gar.
permission. I think that ordinarily my eyes would be drawn to the empty throne at the head of the room, but Zeus has-. So much happening, the conceptual links so strong and clear that I'm-. Ugh. Feeling more than a little off.
'
Gar'? So, he's showing off how much of a hot-blooded manly badass he is?
I could see him trying that as an intimidation tactic.
"Oh? I'm mildly impressed. Lesser mortals have been struck dead from seeing me like this."
His physical form-? It puts me in mind of Hades, for obvious reasons. The structure of the face makes the relationship obvious, though Zeus's hair is entirely white. Not grey, not mostly comprised of white hair while a few still have colour, no; the whole head of hair and neatly groomed beard are white. He's wearing a blue doric chiton under a purple himation, both accented with gold stitching. The gold theme carries on to his gold bracers and necklace, as well as the diadem on his head. And
And also
fuck-huge, because why try to be
restrained in your place of power? I'm sure
most mortals would have been blasted to their knees in worship of his presence...
Wealth. Prosperity. Success. Power. Status.
I understand why he's dressed as he is. I'm not completely clear why he's lounging on a klinē in the centre of a room next to a table upon which appears to be a light lunch. He's too conceptually unsubtle for me to have the meaning shoved into my brain. Still, there are a couple of other klinē around so perhaps he's just finished a meeting.
...Unfortunately, he's just not speaking OL's
language, in metaphorical terms. No doubt he's hoping this will be a polite sit-down chat.
I bow. "Lord Zeus. King of Olympus."
"Come!" He gestures to the seat opposite him, not grinning exactly, but certainly smiling. "Come, sit."
What's he
planning, I wonder? He knows why OL is here, obviously. It's about Wonder Woman, of course. But is he aware of what OL's been up to?
I don't know what he's up to, but there's no sense in being rude about it. I follow his directions-. And see as I get closer that he's not above pettiness. Unlike Hades, who is a little larger than most men because he can't get smaller, Zeus is about nine feet tall and without appearing to have been stretched out in the way that very tall humans sometimes do. And the furniture is sized for him, which means that it's a little too large for me to sit comfortably.
Like a small child sitting in a grown-up chair. I'm sure that's
entirely intentional. Is Daddy Zeus about to do some divine
mansplaining to the little orange fellow?
"Thank you, my lord."
"So I understand that I've got you waxing wrote, mortal man." He leans a short distance towards me, and it's like seeing a storm coming towards me while I'm wearing conductive clothing. "What exactly is your problem?"
Not
quite as bad as yelling blasphemies in an open field during a thunderstorm while holing a brass rod, but
still...
