Your myth retellings are gorgeous. Would you tell another please? Maybe something with Hermes?
Pandora is made from
earth, shaped by the hands of Hephaestus and made in the image of his beloved
wife. Aphrodite gifts her with grace and charisma. Athena teaches her to weave
and bestows cleverness upon her.
She stands in front of
Hermes, and the god frowns and touches her with a single fingertip on her chin,
moving her head one way than the other. “They’ll eat you alive,” he says, and
she doesn’t understand.
She tilts her head to the
side and smiles a vacant smile. All of the cleverness in the world will do her
no good without any context. “We are the same,” she says, pressing a hand to
Hermes’s chest. She is made from earth and has the skin to mach. He is a
celestial god, and his skin is the same rich shade of brown.
He did not ask to be born
any more than his mother asked to bare him. His creation, just like hers, is at
the whims of Zeus. All for some little lost fire, all because Prometheus wanted
his people to be warm, and, well, he is the god of the thieves after all –
So he gifts her with
deceit, with selfishness, with cunning. Her smile leaves her face all at once
as she’s filled with self-awareness. “He’ll be angry with you,” she says, “I am
not what you were supposed to make.”
“Gods have short
memories,” he says, and doesn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice. “Do
not worry about me, gifted child. You have larger problems than my fate.”
He has turned her from
something pure into – something more like him. Her face darkens even further as
her perfectly crafted mind slots all the pieces together, and he can’t help but
find her lovely. It’s how she was made, after all. “I can’t stop it, can I?
Whatever they’re planning for me to do?”
“No,” Hermes says, “but
now you might be able to survive it.”
“Will I want to?” she
asks, and he doesn’t answer. She doesn’t expect him too.
She hides from everyone,
lives in a cave at the edge of the city. The gods had called her the first
woman, but that’s not true, she can see.
There are women. They
smile and laugh have work roughened hands. She aches to join them, but she has
the beauty of a goddess. They will know. If she joins them, they will know she
is not of them, and it will set into motion whatever trap Zeus has planned.
She is not human, not in
the same way, molded from clay by a god’s hands. But she is of humans, and not eager to bestow upon
them the harm she’s destined to bring them. She bathes in streams where only
nymphs reside, steals into the city in the cloak of night and pilfers from the
“When they said they sent
my brother a wife,” a low, amused voice says too close behind her one night, “I
had not expected a begger.”
She whirls around, hard
bread clenched tight in front of her, an incredibly inefficient shield. Her
breath catches in her throat when she sees him, dark and tall and eyes like the
night sky. He looks like Hermes. Like her. “Who are you?” she demands. They’re
in an alley corner, and of her gifts flight is not among them. She’ll have to
fight him to get away.
She’s not afraid of him.
Maybe another mortal would be, cornered in the middle of the night by a man she
doesn’t know. But she’s no normal mortal woman, and besides – he has something
comforting about him, like the hearthfire attended by Hestia. Something warm.
“I am Prometheus,” says
the man, and no wonder he reminds her of fire. “What do they call you?”
“You are meant to be in
the deepest pits of Hades’s realm,” she snaps, and shifts her grip on the stale
bread so that she can throw it at him. He’s the whole reason she’s here to
begin with, him and his thievery.
He shrugs and walks
closer to her, watching her like one would watch a wild animal. Good. Here, in
this dark alley where no one would find a cooling body until morning, it is he
that should be afraid. “Gods forget,” he says, “and Hades had grown cold in his
place beneath the earth.”
She pauses, considers. “You
stole fire for Hades?”
“No,” he corrects, “I
stole fire for the people. But Hades benefited as well. Enough that he was
willing to forget the terms of my
“What do you want?” she
asks for the second time. “Why are you here?”
He stops, too close to
her, “The question is why are you
She steps into his space
now, following him as he backs away from her, “I am here because of you,
fire-stealer, because gods may forget but they do not forgive, and I am the
punishment they have unleashed upon the world.”
“What a punishment you
are,” he says, looking at her lips, and she forgets to hate him only long
enough to kiss him.
Hermes watches her,
watches them. He doesn’t know Zeus’s plan, if this is part of it or not, but he
watches her, and he worries. He thinks it is, he can see Aphrodite’s magic
clinging to Pandora, but he doesn’t know why.
He would go to his
mother, but she’s always difficult to find, Gaea preferring to live in streams
and rivers rather than face the man she bore a son for. But his mother’s
father, on the other hand, is always in the same place.
greets, touching lightly down onto the earth, “How are you?”
“How am I always, boy?”
Atlas grunts out, legs and arms straining as he holds up the sky above the
Hermes lips quirk up the
corners. Some days, he thinks he’s more Atlas’s grandson than he’s Zeus’s son. “I
need some advice, Grandfather.”
Atlas raises an eyebrow, “I’m
So Hermes tells him
everything, from beginning to end, because he can’t figure out what his father’s
plan is, but Atlas might. He’s known the man for longer, at least.
Atlas nods, slow, and
says, “A bride of gods, a gifted child. I can think of only one reason to
create such a child.” Hermes waits. Atlas sighs and says, “There is a jar,
within Olympus, that becomes sealed when it leaves the realm of the gods. After
that, only a being neither mortal nor celestial may open it.”
“What are they planning
to put inside?” Hermes demands, heart spiking. What are they planning to unleash
upon the unsuspecting earth?
His grandfather smirks, “It
doesn’t matter. What matters is this – what are you going to put inside?”
“Both my parents loved music,” he said
abruptly. “My father played the violin, my mother the qin. I chose the
violin, though I could have learned either. I regretted it sometimes, for there
are melodies of China I cannot play on the violin, that my mother would have
liked me to know. She used to tell me the story of Yu Boya, who was a great
player of the qin. He had a best friend, a woodcutter named Zhong Ziqi, and he
would play for him. They say that when Yu Boya played a song of water, his
friend would know immediately that he was describing rushing rivers, and when
he played of mountains, Ziqi would see their peaks. And Yu Boya would say, ‘It
is because you understand my music.’” Jem looked down at his own hand,
curled loosely on his knee. “People still use the expression 'zhi yin’ to
mean 'close friends’ or 'soul mates,’ but what it really means is
'understanding music.’” He reached up and took her hand. “When I
played, you saw what I saw. You understand my music."
I really like the image of Vader rolling Luke’s name around in his head, saying it out loud to himself, testing it, hearing it.
Luke. Luke Skywalker. My son’s name is Luke.
Practicing different ways to say it. Maybe he tries it out in all of his different, typical Vader tones. You know, in the way he addresses Imperial Officers or Rebel Prisoners or even the Emporer. None of them probably sound right.
Saying it quietly, in a gentle voice. It’s unfamiliar and maybe uncomfortable because he hasn’t been gentle in years but it’d sound right and good.
I like the idea that there’s a build-up for Vader to that first moment. That the moment when he is looking at his son and calls him by his name for the first time, that it would be this important moment for him. One that he has thought a lot about and prepared for.
And that every time he says it is precious. That he just keeps trying to get it right because this is his son and his name is Luke.
Companions reaction to finding and genuinely thinking the courier is Fucking Dead after an explosion (followed by the courier snapping awake going THAT WAS GREAT LETS DO IT AGAIN)
Arcade: His back was turned, shooting at some powder gangers. A loud bang went off behind Arcade, and a momentary panic took over him. He looked all around for the Courier, but he couldn’t see them, so they must have been at the very epicenter of the explosion. He didn’t even wait for the dust to settle before he took off running in their direction. He knew the likelihood of them surviving an explosion like that was slim, but if they were alive they needed medical attention asap. While running, he fell to his knees and slid up to where the Courier was lying; his pants ripped. He checked for their pulse, and it was as strong as it always is. He turned them over to look for any wounds but there didn’t seem to be any. At that point, the Courier opened their eyes and smiled at him. They could literally see the expressions on his face turn from surprised, to relieved, to furious. He got up and turned away from them, “I can’t believe- … I can’t believe it.” So many emotions were going through Arcade, and suddenly all of them caught up to him. Tears were welling in his eyes and he didn’t want the Courier to see.
Boone: Boone more often than not, kept his distance during a fight; he had the advantage with long range weapons. He was keeping raiders off of the Courier, then he saw one had thrown a grenade in their direction. He tried to shoot it in the air, and he missed. He never misses. He immediately dropped his gun on the ground and started sprinting in their direction. All the while, saying under his breath, “no no no no no, I’ve lost too many people. I can’t lose you too.” He took care of whatever remaining raiders there were, and immediately went to the Courier’s aid. He shook them gently, hoping for a reaction. Their eyes shot open and they gave him a loud, “WHEW.” They couldn’t see his eyes because dust had covered his shades, so they weren’t entirely sure of his expression. Because he was holding them, the Courier could physically feel his muscles relax. He dropped them and stood up. After a long pause, he just said, “would you please be more aware of your surroundings..”
Ed-E: Have you ever seen that video of that guy who pretended to faint to see what his dog would do? Ed-E was like that dog.
Lily: Humans died all the time, it was just a thing that happened. Lily never really seemed to care all that much. Once she thought the Courier had died in an explosion, it hit her like no other death had. She didn’t rush to them or anything, she just kind of stood there and looked. The feelings that she was getting, felt new but at the same time familiar to her; likely from before she became a nightkin, but at the time she didn’t realize that. Eventually the Courier got up, and she completely forgot the feeling altogether.
Raul: “BOSS!” Was, what Raul thought, would be the last thing the Courier heard before dying in an explosion. He quickly ran to the Courier, standing above them with a look of remorse on his face. He wasn’t sure what to do or say or, anything. Seeing them laying there, he was scared if he tried to get them to get up, they wouldn’t. He stood above them for so long that the Courier eventually sat up and looked at him. “What a rush, huh?” Raul, taking a moment to comprehend what just happened. Sighed heavily, sat on the ground next to them, and looked up into the sky. “One of these days boss, you’re gonna kill me of shock if you keep doing that..”
Rex: Rex didn’t even realize what had happened to the Courier for awhile. Once he saw that they had been lying the ground, motionless, he just went up to them and licked their face until they got up.
Cass: Cass saw a dynamite stick land next to the Courier, but it went off before she could warn them. Immediately, she stopped all movement. To Cass, it felt like someone had just punched her in the stomach, she fell to her knees, not able to make a sound. Before she knew it tears were streaming down her cheeks. She still couldn’t utter any words, the only sounds that came from her were deep breaths. Theeen the dust cleared. The Courier was on the ground, covered in dust. Slowly, they got up, Cass just started at them with tears still running down her face. They walked up to her, and a big grin spread across their face. Cass immediately shot up and hit them, “don’t you EVER FUCKING SCARE ME LIKE THAT EVER AGAIN.” She was clearly mad, but still had a look of relief on her face. She wiped her tears, and pretended like her crying never even happened.
Veronica: As soon as Veronica glanced at the Courier, a huge explosion, accompanied by a cloud of smoke arose right where they were standing. A whole slew of curse words escaped her mouth. She was hesitant to run to them, all of the thoughts of what she might find scared her. Eventually the dust settled, and somehow the Courier was just, standing there, seemingly unscathed. Veronica rubbed her eyes, thinking maybe she passed out from shock and was dreaming. The Courier slowly walked over to her, and said, “WHOA that was pretty wild.” Veronica was so shocked it took her a second to process what was going on. “PRETTY WILD? ARE YOU KIDDING ME I THOUGHT YOU DIED YOU IDIOT.” She eventually laughed about it along with the Courier.
Just imagine how differently things would have gone for the companions without Hawke there, though?
Aveline dies beside Wesley, fighting the darkspawn while protecting the tainted corpse of her husband to the last breath.
Varric goes down to the Deep Roads with Bartrand. If they aren’t all killed by darkspawn without Hawke there to defend them, then Varric faces his brother’s betrayal alone, locked behind the stone walls of an old, silent thaig.
Fenris continues running from Danarius, always looking over his shoulder, always living as prey to the tiger at his back. Eventually, his master catches up with him, and he returns to slavery as a memory-less wraith once again.
Anders goes to the Chantry alone. He fights the Templars there, and doesn’t care, doesn’t bother with healing this time when they put a sword through his heart, because all he can see is that fucking sunburst where it should never be.
Isabela goes to the Chantry alone, too. But instead of Templars, there are pirates, and no one’s at her back to keep the knife from sliding into it.
Merrill is sent away from her clan to Kirkwall, where there are no friends to keep her naivete with city-living from leading her to the Templars’ doorstep. Even if she does manage to avoid them, manages to rebuild her Eluvian - her demon-possessed mentor ends up killing her, in the end.
Sebastian hunts down his family’s murderers. But he is alone, and he is only one man, and he is cut down as he grasps for one more arrow in his empty quiver.
I just. I have a lot of feels about the Kirkwall crew and Hawke.
I did the sketch for this in-game dialogue like a year ago. The DM definitely didn’t know this at the time, but the way to Bruno’s heart is to be impressed by how big he is (and also give him potions).