With This Ring (Young Justice SI) (Thread Fourteen)

28th October 2012
12:12 GMT +3

Mount Olympus isn't anything special. A little under three thousand metres at its highest point, it's tall for a European mountain but doesn't even make the top hundred tallest mountains worldwide. It's snow-covered for nine months of the year, though with global warming a thing of the past that might increase a little. The lower slopes are coated in forests and scrubland with significant biodiversity while the highest portions are bare rock. There are more Christian places of worship here than Hellenist ones; Greek Orthodox churches, shrines and actual monasteries are sited at several places, while the ruins of Hellenistic shrines can really only be seen if you know where to look.

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.

Except.

I hold aloft a mug filled with the Cider of Discord, take a sip-

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.

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.

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

Hard. Rough. Unyielding.

fact, I…

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

Lever. Holding. Grasping.

tool at the same time. Welcome to the thaumosphere, or at least the bits the Olympians have formatted for their own convenience.

I take a moment to look around

Growing. Flowing. Reaching. Calling.

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.

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

Power. Greatness. Grandeur.

of the Palace of Olympus. The path up is a path and the idea of a path

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.

Nice gardens. I imagine that they stay like that because-.

"Paul."

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 criminal-."

"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?"

"I'm here to talk to Lord Zeus. It might be advisable to get to a safe distance."

"Ah?"

"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."

"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-

"Ah, Lantern! Come! Come!"

-I'm outside the throne room, pushing open the door and walking inside with the owner's

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.

"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

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.

I bow. "Lord Zeus. King of Olympus."

"Come!" He gestures to the seat opposite him, not grinning exactly, but certainly smiling. "Come, sit."

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.

"Thank you, my lord."

"So I understand that I've got you waxing wroth, 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?"