Categories > Cartoons > Class of the Titans > Across Time, Against Time
Watch the Horizon
3 reviews"'Who did you kill, grandfather?' The pity fled from her with everything else - everything but mad terror. 'Whose blood is that?' The vague, foreign presence clouding her mind became clearer, sh...
1Ambiance
A/N: Wow. I... updated. Cool. So anyways, I did promise a long chapter this time around, but at the last moment I decided against it. I figured it would have a twinge more grace if I didn't jump between two or three perspectives in an increasingly long chapter. As well, I don't want to go through the story too quickly, as I'm still playing things a smidge by the ear. The next 'chapter' should end the intro of the story, so I've either got some massive replanning to do, or some massive ground to cover.
Disclaimer: Kitty owns nothing but her plots, her brains, and the awesome, newly introduced characters she may come up with in later chapters. You people can keep Class of the Titans. Don't sue me. It's bad karma.
Enjoy the story. ^-^
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Cold./ It was so, so cold./
The goddess lay, a crumpled heap, upon the floor, beaten and broken in spirits. Limbs which had before only portrayed themselves as delicate trembled with weakness as she braced herself upon them. Streaming blonde locks framed her gentle features in wild disarray, and her expression had a lost sort of hopelessness within its depths, eyes bright and glossy with dazed fear.
"Cronus..." she whispered, feeling sick. Weren't gods supposed to be immortal? Shouldn't they, in some manner, be immune to such feeble harm? Slumping upon the ground, Persephone shuddered with the mild horror running through her veins, bright as blood. She could hear his footsteps, coming closer again, slow and steady. The constant sound of his feet upon the hard earth was maddening to her, as a man armed with a club was to a frenzied animal.
Mother,/ she thought, letting her thoughts drift as she forced herself upon her side, feeling fire run through her nerves as the hurt of touch fell upon her scarred skin. Hades... /
Where were they, her mother and husband, now when she most needed them? Coming? Would they, even now, come for her, knowing that they couldn't possibly defeat their father? Would they pull forth their efforts anyway, to save her - she who they cherished?
Memories flooded through the goddess's mind, of man's hard winter, of her imprisonment in the realm of Hades, and in her mind's eye she could see the six, small seeds of the pomegranate that had rested in her pale hand, that had sealed her marriage to Hades.
Though it hurt her to do so, a small, fragile smile twisted upon her features. They were coming. They would come.
Fingers brushed against the stone she had fallen against, feeling for a trace of comfort, a crack through the pavement where some lone weed had woven its way towards the sun. Mother, help him. Let him come to my aid... please...
"Stand now, granddaughter. Will you not take a look at the Master of your blood?"
Rage filled the goddess. /Master of her blood? She felt her blood, cold as ice, race through her veins, and a spasm of anger shattered her trembling smile. Eyes flashed, and her pale skin seemed almost ashy, as though the Spring Goddess had reformed to winter's glory. However, a soft, silky something chanced upon her hand and relief made her forget all anger./
"Where are the children, Cronus?" The demand was voiced hoarsely, but the ferocity she had intended was nothing but a feeble flicker in her tone. Her grandfather laughed, almost contemptuously, nearly amused.
"I have no qualm with you, Child, rest assured."
"Not until I see you, chained in Tartarus, with both of my eyes." Why was she shaking so much? Fingers wrapped around the delicate petals of the flower, but she couldn't catch a grip. It danced from her grasp, almost jauntily, as she struggled to take hold of it. "What have you done with the children, Cronus? Where is Theresa?"
"I might've eaten them," suggested the other, with a strenuous laugh. It might've been her weary mind, but something harder, more furious possessed Cronus's tone, an effort that hadn't been there before with his eased mockery. "It seems that I'd preferred the taste of Gods before I'd gone to Tartarus, but I suppose, like chocolate, blood isn't bad when it's... diluted. Penelope, Theseus, Herakles, Achilles... these were all characters of godly origin, after all."
Something had manifested itself within Cronus's voice. Hatred. But there was something else. An Insane clutch of hysteria almost clamped its vice upon the villain, and Persephone felt her heart jarred at that voice, and confusion filled her thoughts. Facts and recollections danced into her consciousness, the oddest little things coming into focus. Once upon a time ago, he had been Kronus, god of the harvest...
Elation raced through her as she finally caught hold of the plant which had so evaded her reach before. Presently, she was aware of something invading her thoughts, a thought-constructed being writhing within the awareness of her soul, though she could not acknowledge it. Hard exhaustion prevailed over her might, so that she could only face one attack at a time, and Cronus was the more pressing matter at hand.
Forcing calm upon her features, Persephone looked up to survey the face of he who had fathered her parents.
Wisps of white darted through his glossy black hair, dark eyes simmering with implacable anger. He looked almost like a warrior of the ancient days, though the armor which clad him was of greater work than Hephaestus's, old and immortal that it was. Perhaps, she thought, he himself had constructed it. The scythes of whose design he had slaughtered Uranus with - again, Persephone was troubled as she recalled it was to save his own brothers, that he, Rhea and Gaia all had a hand in it - were safe within his gloved hands, menacing and, she realized with a jolt - bloodstained.
"Who did you kill, grandfather?" The pity fled from her with everything else - everything but mad terror. "Whose blood is that?" The vague, foreign presence clouding her mind became clearer, sharper, and Persephone was almost able to feel the alien speaker's message in the depths of her heart.
The terrible figure glared down upon her. "It isn't yours, Granddaughter. Why should anything else matter?"
Do it now/, whispered a voice in her head. /Do it now. We are coming.
Embracing instinct, she pulled, every last drop of godly strength channeling into that one movement and the small reactions that followed; the jerking of her arm, the tightening of her fist, arching back, crying out in anguish. The flower tore from the earth, and the effects were monstrous, and she almost recognized the scene. She remembered it, plucking flowers from the earth to braid into her hair, lured to one more beautiful than the rest, being seized by the desire to pluck it from the earth. The ground tearing away with its roots, and Hades... Hades...
As the earth trembled and shock twisted upon Cronus's features, the dark beasts of the Underworld came upon mortal air, the divine black horses dragging the chariot of Persephone's enraged husband, though cloaked from visibility. From the earth itself his sister emerged, Demeter the Earth Goddess, whose wrath seemed to crackle through the air whence she saw her daughter upon the ground.
A sneer incorporated itself upon Cronus's face, sparks igniting in his eyes when the form of Demeter met his glance, and the horses of Hades. Stumbling, the ancient God fell upon the earth, and crouching there, he seemed to pull strength from Demeter's power.
"Daughter," uttered Cronus, watching as Hades revealed himself and cloaked his weary wife from view. "My Son... You have no heroes to protect you any longer..."
Hades laughed, though not of humor. Perhaps it was merely because he could do little else, alone with Demeter against their father. "I came for Persephone, Cronus," his tone was even and level, a curiosity within itself. "But I can do more for you, Father.
"I can tell you that the Heroes have not entered Hades yet. They are nowhere close to it."
The God of Time acquired the most amazing look then - the look of one who has just been denied the last joy of his life, the single joy he had been struggling towards in a sad, sorry life. It was almost like a desert man stumbling catching the innocent glimpse of a kindly oasis, only to find that his eyes decieved him. Perhaps, in these days, it would've been the only joy in his life.
Though the gods did not need mortal rest, Persephone felt sleep cling on her eyes, and presently found that submitting to it would be fair in such an ordeal. But before she could completely dart into the realm where mortals dream, she again felt a traitorous twinge of insecurity and pity play the strings of her heart.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
To be Continued...
Disclaimer: Kitty owns nothing but her plots, her brains, and the awesome, newly introduced characters she may come up with in later chapters. You people can keep Class of the Titans. Don't sue me. It's bad karma.
Enjoy the story. ^-^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Cold./ It was so, so cold./
The goddess lay, a crumpled heap, upon the floor, beaten and broken in spirits. Limbs which had before only portrayed themselves as delicate trembled with weakness as she braced herself upon them. Streaming blonde locks framed her gentle features in wild disarray, and her expression had a lost sort of hopelessness within its depths, eyes bright and glossy with dazed fear.
"Cronus..." she whispered, feeling sick. Weren't gods supposed to be immortal? Shouldn't they, in some manner, be immune to such feeble harm? Slumping upon the ground, Persephone shuddered with the mild horror running through her veins, bright as blood. She could hear his footsteps, coming closer again, slow and steady. The constant sound of his feet upon the hard earth was maddening to her, as a man armed with a club was to a frenzied animal.
Mother,/ she thought, letting her thoughts drift as she forced herself upon her side, feeling fire run through her nerves as the hurt of touch fell upon her scarred skin. Hades... /
Where were they, her mother and husband, now when she most needed them? Coming? Would they, even now, come for her, knowing that they couldn't possibly defeat their father? Would they pull forth their efforts anyway, to save her - she who they cherished?
Memories flooded through the goddess's mind, of man's hard winter, of her imprisonment in the realm of Hades, and in her mind's eye she could see the six, small seeds of the pomegranate that had rested in her pale hand, that had sealed her marriage to Hades.
Though it hurt her to do so, a small, fragile smile twisted upon her features. They were coming. They would come.
Fingers brushed against the stone she had fallen against, feeling for a trace of comfort, a crack through the pavement where some lone weed had woven its way towards the sun. Mother, help him. Let him come to my aid... please...
"Stand now, granddaughter. Will you not take a look at the Master of your blood?"
Rage filled the goddess. /Master of her blood? She felt her blood, cold as ice, race through her veins, and a spasm of anger shattered her trembling smile. Eyes flashed, and her pale skin seemed almost ashy, as though the Spring Goddess had reformed to winter's glory. However, a soft, silky something chanced upon her hand and relief made her forget all anger./
"Where are the children, Cronus?" The demand was voiced hoarsely, but the ferocity she had intended was nothing but a feeble flicker in her tone. Her grandfather laughed, almost contemptuously, nearly amused.
"I have no qualm with you, Child, rest assured."
"Not until I see you, chained in Tartarus, with both of my eyes." Why was she shaking so much? Fingers wrapped around the delicate petals of the flower, but she couldn't catch a grip. It danced from her grasp, almost jauntily, as she struggled to take hold of it. "What have you done with the children, Cronus? Where is Theresa?"
"I might've eaten them," suggested the other, with a strenuous laugh. It might've been her weary mind, but something harder, more furious possessed Cronus's tone, an effort that hadn't been there before with his eased mockery. "It seems that I'd preferred the taste of Gods before I'd gone to Tartarus, but I suppose, like chocolate, blood isn't bad when it's... diluted. Penelope, Theseus, Herakles, Achilles... these were all characters of godly origin, after all."
Something had manifested itself within Cronus's voice. Hatred. But there was something else. An Insane clutch of hysteria almost clamped its vice upon the villain, and Persephone felt her heart jarred at that voice, and confusion filled her thoughts. Facts and recollections danced into her consciousness, the oddest little things coming into focus. Once upon a time ago, he had been Kronus, god of the harvest...
Elation raced through her as she finally caught hold of the plant which had so evaded her reach before. Presently, she was aware of something invading her thoughts, a thought-constructed being writhing within the awareness of her soul, though she could not acknowledge it. Hard exhaustion prevailed over her might, so that she could only face one attack at a time, and Cronus was the more pressing matter at hand.
Forcing calm upon her features, Persephone looked up to survey the face of he who had fathered her parents.
Wisps of white darted through his glossy black hair, dark eyes simmering with implacable anger. He looked almost like a warrior of the ancient days, though the armor which clad him was of greater work than Hephaestus's, old and immortal that it was. Perhaps, she thought, he himself had constructed it. The scythes of whose design he had slaughtered Uranus with - again, Persephone was troubled as she recalled it was to save his own brothers, that he, Rhea and Gaia all had a hand in it - were safe within his gloved hands, menacing and, she realized with a jolt - bloodstained.
"Who did you kill, grandfather?" The pity fled from her with everything else - everything but mad terror. "Whose blood is that?" The vague, foreign presence clouding her mind became clearer, sharper, and Persephone was almost able to feel the alien speaker's message in the depths of her heart.
The terrible figure glared down upon her. "It isn't yours, Granddaughter. Why should anything else matter?"
Do it now/, whispered a voice in her head. /Do it now. We are coming.
Embracing instinct, she pulled, every last drop of godly strength channeling into that one movement and the small reactions that followed; the jerking of her arm, the tightening of her fist, arching back, crying out in anguish. The flower tore from the earth, and the effects were monstrous, and she almost recognized the scene. She remembered it, plucking flowers from the earth to braid into her hair, lured to one more beautiful than the rest, being seized by the desire to pluck it from the earth. The ground tearing away with its roots, and Hades... Hades...
As the earth trembled and shock twisted upon Cronus's features, the dark beasts of the Underworld came upon mortal air, the divine black horses dragging the chariot of Persephone's enraged husband, though cloaked from visibility. From the earth itself his sister emerged, Demeter the Earth Goddess, whose wrath seemed to crackle through the air whence she saw her daughter upon the ground.
A sneer incorporated itself upon Cronus's face, sparks igniting in his eyes when the form of Demeter met his glance, and the horses of Hades. Stumbling, the ancient God fell upon the earth, and crouching there, he seemed to pull strength from Demeter's power.
"Daughter," uttered Cronus, watching as Hades revealed himself and cloaked his weary wife from view. "My Son... You have no heroes to protect you any longer..."
Hades laughed, though not of humor. Perhaps it was merely because he could do little else, alone with Demeter against their father. "I came for Persephone, Cronus," his tone was even and level, a curiosity within itself. "But I can do more for you, Father.
"I can tell you that the Heroes have not entered Hades yet. They are nowhere close to it."
The God of Time acquired the most amazing look then - the look of one who has just been denied the last joy of his life, the single joy he had been struggling towards in a sad, sorry life. It was almost like a desert man stumbling catching the innocent glimpse of a kindly oasis, only to find that his eyes decieved him. Perhaps, in these days, it would've been the only joy in his life.
Though the gods did not need mortal rest, Persephone felt sleep cling on her eyes, and presently found that submitting to it would be fair in such an ordeal. But before she could completely dart into the realm where mortals dream, she again felt a traitorous twinge of insecurity and pity play the strings of her heart.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
To be Continued...
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