Exploring Olympus (Open)

[Mnemosyne]

Mnemosyne wandered along the paved boulevard, watching the nymphs, satyrs and lesser gods chattering and enjoying themselves, free from care for the world or anything else. This was their world. How she hated them, and envied them. They never worried about things happening on Earth, or about humans, they never had to care.
She was beginning to regret coming up here, even for a short time, but she knew she had to, once in a while at least. She had to be around others of her own kind, or similar at least, so she didn't lose perspective. She'd forget who she was, if she only ever had humans for company.
The sound of music drifted over, from a small amphitheatre where a grinning satyr was playing the pipes for a group of cheering, athletic-looking males, probably minor gods, and some green-skinned naiads. They were all clapping along, enjoying themselves. They were all beautiful, wearing or permanently in the form of youths. Like her, much as she didn't feel it.
She wandered among them, taking a seat just enough away so she didn't intrude. She loved the music, the simple, sweet playing of the simple, sweet instrument which called out to her old, artistic soul. Soon, she was smiling and clapping along as well.
It was only when she saw the purple of the sky and the pink light lining the clouds that she realised how long it had been. Much longer than expected, and she'd enjoyed it. Very bizarre.
She exchanged pleasanteries with some of the nymphs, carefully not giving her name, in case they knew her and were afraid, before leaving, walking through the steadily cooling air to a promontary which showed a view of the Earth below.
She stood there, looking out across the World, as the night winds blew her hair out behind her and the sky was painted deepest blue of evening.

[Orestias]

Fools, Orestias spat mentally, shooting a icy glare towards the group of young men that sat upon the grass in the wide open courtyard, bantering, laughing, and chattering. He knew them, demigods all, sons of whispered patronage, who gallivanted about this place as if they lorded over it and the mortal realm below it. They sickened him. With all the power they were given, they did nothing worth doing, worth remembering, but indulged themselves endlessly in hedonistic revel. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened for a moment, only to loosen and he to grumble exasperatedly. He could not lay a hand upon their pampered heads lest he anger their fathers, his masters. It was not their indulgence in music, nor food, nor even lust that disgusted him, but the totality of their giving of themselves to vice and aloofness. With all the philandering of the gods, could not one produce a child worth the trouble they caused?

Turning from the sight, he stalked down the way away from them and the drifting scents and sounds of the eastern courtyards. A few minutes walk took him into a sprawling park that emerged from the side of the mountain itself, the ground covered with soft, lush grasses and filled with the sounds of falling water and the bubbling laughter of the nymphs that made their home in this beautiful enclosure. Sometimes he would come here for peace, when the nymphs and revelers had retreated to the banquets and parties of the eve, but the hour had not arrived, and to his displeasure there was no peace to be had here. No sooner had he set foot upon the perfect grass had three nymphs surrounded his armored form, pelting him with questions of why he was so stoic, why he wore armor when it was not required, and why he wasn't answering either of the previous questions. "Peace...please, peace is all I ask. Peace, and silence. Find another for your questions...the sons of the divine seem to be alone in the east courtyards, pay them mind...not I." was the only answer and attention he gave them, continuing on, and looking ahead as one by one they fell away, running off to the east. Fools. All of them, fools.. He had no patience for them this day, even in their infinite beauty, he found the nymphs to be insufferable.

Clearing the park, Orestias passed on to a massive stone walkway, continuing on to his right into another boulevard, alive with chatter and life. Off to his left, it broke off and led to a far promontory, alone in it's watch over the mortal world. On it stood a woman, tall and striking, even only in visage, with long red hair that blew like streams of silk into the cold night air, shining in the dying light against the infinite indigo of the sky. Save for her, the rock expanse was empty, and most fortunately, quiet. Without a word, he approached, only the soft metallic clanking of the pieces of his armor to disturb the calm of the outcropping of the mountain. He came to a stop near the end of where one could stand and looked out. How this world had changed...the land was brighter than the sky. He didn't know how to think of that. "Forgive my intrusion upon your peace...I shall not bother you any further." Orestias whispered over his shoulder, allowing the wind that swept past them to carry forth his voice to her.

[Mnemosyne]

Mnemosyne turned to see the armoured man pass. She recognised him, or perhaps his weaponry. Not that it meant much, she recognised a lot of people, gods, mortals. She'd been around so long, it'd be weird if she didn't. But she couldn't put a name to the face. A very annoying thing indeed for someone whose very name meant memory. She thought back, her brow wrinkled as the wind threw up scents of the world, tantalising her, and scents of Olympus, both tempting and revolting her. Finally, it came to her, she thought of some other, whose armour had been similar. A mortal warrior, ages past. She remembered the name. She sighed with satistfaction, but her curiosity was not sated.
She looked him up and down properly, as if seeing him for the first time. Almost instantly, she could tell he was only here for the quiet. A shame, since she'd be interested to hear his story. Perhaps...? But no, she'd promised to stop meddling with gods' heads, it always lead to trouble. She'd just have to ask. The worst he could do was wander off in irritation, and she'd be forced to discover his identity by more difficult and time-consuming means. She toyed, briefly once more, with the idea of messing with his head, but good sense won over. She'd do this the human way.
'I'm sorry,' she began, her voice low, as though determined not to disturb the hush of this little outpost, 'but who are you?' Best to be direct. 'I've not seen your face before and, well, I like to know these things.' She offered a gentle smile. 'I'm sure answering my questions is not what you want to do with your time, but please, humour an old titan her ways.' She smiled again, her eyes dancing, expectant.
She supposed, if he was to storm off, she could then use her talents on him. She figured, as long as she made him forget after, then she wouldn't have done too much harm. He'd only get the memories back when she was far out of the picture, on her way down back to Earth, and hopefully he wouldn't piece together who she was. She wasn't exactly well known, especially to the newer ones.
Then again, he probably wasn't new. Only the ones who had been around when it was first used, or the suicidally inclined, wore that sort of armour. The old guard didn't like young bloods pretending to be all mature and worldly. It always made her smile, how protective they were of their little status symbols. She remembered when they were the young bloods, forging a new Utopia through the blood and broken bodies of their forebears, her brethren, the ones who now lay imprisoned deep in Tartarus. She supposed she ought to feel angry about that, as so many other things, but she'd never liked either side that much. She'd been a side all of her own.
Whilst these thoughts skittered and shimmered through her head, she kept her eyes, her blue sky, blue sea eyes, focused on the man... god... being in front of her. It was so unusual for her to meet someone that actually piqued her interest, she'd rather he didn't leave before she'd learnt something.

[Orestias]

Orestias looked over his shoulder for a moment, considering the titaness's request, and then turned fully to face her. He hadn't planned on speaking to anyone atop this precipice, but, her manner was straightforward and honest, and she was polite in her questioning of him. Bringing himself to bear, he studied the woman. He recognized her visage, for so many years he had seen her float across this part of the mountain, but never for long, nor ever too frequently. In the courtyards he had heard her name whispered to and fro between the archivists and philosophers, and the artists. The ancient ones of the lute and the lyre, and the flute. She was said to know their oldest tunes, long forgotten songs to tame man and beast alike. Those of the brush spoke of things she had seen that they could only long to see once more, if only for a moment, to commit them to a canvas in all of their brilliance. This titaness was a watcher like he, though of so different of sights. She watched over the museums and muses of this world, while he over saw the mausoleums, and the men that were entombed there.

Mnemosyne. Her name meant memory. He had seen her, even if she had not seen him. She had likely seen so many things that he had seen, and so much that he had not. She was not like the others here, she walked the mortal world often, and others scorned her for becoming too much like them. No, she was like no one else here. Orestias smiled, he might like her after all.

"It is fine, titaness. Do not give it a second thought...I am happy to answer your questions, you offered respect to my peace. And such words would hardly shatter the quiet that holds here.". He bowed his head to her, and removed his helmet, taking it beneath his arm and looking back up to the red-haired titaness with the freezing blue eyes, eyes he met with his own stormy grey. "I am Orestias...of the winds, and war. I will answer any questions...what else would you know?".

[Mnemosyne]

She smiled as he removed his helmet. So formal. His dark hair seemed liquid black in the darkness, so startling against his eyes. She smiled, glad to see the old ways alive, somewhere. Politeness was a wonderful thing. She returned the favour, offering a sort of curtsy, bowing her head at the same time. It was probably quite graceless, through lack of practice, but the gesture was there.
She almost offered her hand, a more modern gesture, but thought better of it. Stick to the ways you knew best.
'My name is Mnemosyne.' She replied. 'Of memory, and muse, and music. Though you may know that already. It is a pleasure to meet you, Orestias, I'm sure.' She kept that smile fixed, gleeful, curiosity awaiting satiation. Perfect.
She wondered what to ask, where to start. So many questions, and night was already drawing in. Not that sleep was something she needed, but the nymphs and the demi-gods and the other annoying little people of this area often came her at night for... their own reasons. She'd long since learnt to move away when they were around. She hoped they wouldn't choose tonight for their plans. Even so, best be quick about choosing, lest the opportunity disappear.
'Well, I suppose my first question, and quite possibly my rudest, for which I apologise, is to ask what you are.' The smile was still there, humour behind her words. 'I mean no disrespect, but are you god, titan... no, I'd know you if you were a titan... personification? I don't recognise your name. Of the wind? Ever-changing, capricious and cold, yet capable of warmth and gentleness as well. A curious man indeed.' She smiled all the wider. Simple was never interesting. 'So tell, me Orestias of the wind, what brings you up here, to the cold and dreary, forcefully cheery, Lower Levels of Olympus? I'm sure it wasn't the company available, such as it is.'

[Orestias]

Orestias smiled back at Mnemosyne. She honored the old ways, and how encouraging it was to see! She offered a curtsy of sorts, not like he would have seen from any other, but not in a rude way. It was not a gesture often given by those who were far removed from the lofty ways of this place, but even as she did she had a certain grace about her. It was an honest one, one that was not practiced or sharpened, but one that did not need to be. It flowed from her, like a stream or a ribbon caught upon the breeze, and it was something he admired silently. How nice it was to see something that seemed natural and honest here, he truly was fortunate for this company this eve. Mnemosyne stood out from everything that blended into the canvas that blanketed this mountain that much more than she did already. Her brilliant blue eyes shown out against her light skin and the purple velvet night, and her hair flowed like streams of dying light in the dark waters of a stream against the setting sun. And now, her ways did as well.

"The pleasure is mine, Mnemosyne. If there is any company worth standing in upon this mountain this eve, it is yours. I know your face, but no more than that.". He nodded as she spoke, and came to personification. "You are correct, I am an aspect of the wind, titaness, though not so interesting as you might believe. I am sorry for not revealing that at first...it is I that needs the forgiveness, I am less than polished in my social graces. Respect, I know. Beyond that...I am less learned.". With that he offered an honest smile, for it was the truth. Military discipline and regard he was well versed in, but Orestias was by nature, often solitary. "I come here tonight on behalf of the Sea Lord, but his will here is done. Why I have remained...I have only now received my reason."

[Mnemosyne]

She laughed, an open, honest laugh of amusement.
'You flatter me.' She grinned, not complaining. Charm was always interesting. But Poseidon? Now there was a scrap of definite intrigue. He too rarely had business with Olympus. Too dark and stormy, ever-changing. From what she knew, he had little time for the petty politics and in-fighting of the other gods up here. He stayed in his own lands, or rather not lands, instead of socialising. But he had the sea-nymphs and his own court for company, just as Hades had his own to deal with. Olympus was Zeus' kingdom, which, she mused, might be the problem with it. So what was he up to? She knew better than to ask. Curiosity was one thing, but she knew restraint as well.
'You need not apologise for your social graces,' she continued, 'I often find that in too great a quantity, they can be... abrasive. Nymphs are known for their grace, and they can irritate the hell out of me.' She grinned, noting how the modern language slipped easily into her speech. She had been on the Earth too long. 'So perhaps unpolished is all the better. And I shan't judge too soon on interesting. For the fact you haven't tried to seduce me or con money out of me, I can already see you aren't like a lot of the rabble up here, that alone is interesting.' She stretched, more out of habit than any fatigue. The joints in her neck and back clicked, sharp in the hush. 'Sorry.' She muttered. 'I'm used to human company, and they require the odd show of tiredness to prove normality. It has become a habit.'
She sighed.
'But anyway, another question.' Curiosity was never easily sated. 'If I may. Are you simply an agent of Poseidon?' She used the name, dispensing of the caution others used. She had long since grown careless, unfearing as to any retribution forthcoming. 'I just find it strange for someone of air and wind to be tied to the sea... so perhaps he is not your master, simply an employer...' She left the statement hanging, the last sound rising, questioning. She ought to know better than to meddle with affairs of the greater gods, but she'd always been bad at "ought to".

[Orestias]

"And you give me reason to, titaness."{/b] Orestias replied, his words wrapped in a small laugh, as Mnemosyne's grin shown to him.
"And again you prove that the company alone was worth ascending for...you've no idea how grating the manner of those who frolic and prance about is. Or perhaps you do. And if so, then I will add being able to give this reprieve to my memory of that proudly served. And yes...that is a fitting way to say it. Insufferably so". He was familiar with the phrase, he heard it much said much amongst modern warriors. Usually by the footmen of their superiors, or the 'quartermasters' about...everything. He smirked slightly at the thought, and spoke on. "No, no, you need not apologize for your manner...", with this he cast a look down from the promontory, down on to the fast darkening mortal realm, while a wind from below threw his hair wildly about his hair. After a moment he looked back to Mnemosyne. How long it's been, since one of them was so worthy...has it become too much to hope for? "Even as they are, I still find their manner to be more pleasing than most that I find here. As much as they fight amongst themselves, this still is hardly a place for a warrior...and yes, I suppose it is. The...well, as the humans put it...'grab-assing'...here is-", he paused for a moment, as if pondering the best word. And indeed, it required pondering, it was ceaseless here. "Intense", he finished.

He spoke without hindrance, or fear of retribution. He had a few good graces to burn, and long ago the gods had began to excuse his remarks as the musings of one who was too stern to allow themselves any fun at all. This was not too far from the truth.

"A fair question.", he replied. She spoke truths, Outside of tempest winds, he had little outward connection to Poseidon. "An employer of sorts, yes. I am not his servant. I am the sworn sword of all the gods, I serve whoever would make use of me. Though, often I am called to the sea, Poseidon has found me similarly tempered and well disciplined. For this, I often serve his will, however he may direct it.". Orestias gave, with a hint of a nod. He prided himself immensely to these ends. "It is he who gave me my name, and my place in this world.".

[Mnemosyne]

OOC- Sorry I didn't post again yesterday, had a sudden swamp of French homework and some freaky application form to sort. Semi-Cambridge related, so important, had to sort before my mother murdered me.

She smiled, almost laughed, at his description of the Olympian in-fighting. So true. She'd have to remember that for when one of the more prudish goddesses irritated her... again. She supposed she shouldn't, caution and all, but she was more than a match for that anorexic gaggle of over-painted geese. She hoped so, anyway.
His answer to her question, however, was more intriguing. Sworn sword of the gods... an interesting morsel indeed. As an information peddler, or perhaps more hoarder, since she rarely shared, such dribs and drabs as this were like the gold a prospecter finds in a sieve of sand. That beautiful metaphor in a badly-written book.
'I should hardly think that is an easy task.' She said, not masking her interest. To have told her this much, she hardly thought he would be overly concerned that she found his words of interest. 'After all, when are the gods of one mind on their purpose? It must be like trying to drive a chariot pulled by cats, each walking a separate direction, and some sleeping in the middle of the road. Gods are not, by their nature, co-operative.' She wondered if he'd take offence, but it was only the truth. Half the human wars were escalated by goading gods on either side, she just articulated what some would rather she didn't. 'Though I suppose, if you offer services to one god at a time, it mustn't be too arduous. I myself gave up long ago trying to keep in their good graces. Now, they just let me be.' She shrugged, her bare shoulders strangely expressive of her disinclination to care. As a titan, she ought to have made some effort to forge alliances, but somehow she'd never got around to it. It hadn't been a problem yet.
'But one last question, before you tire of me completely.' She added, leaning back against the rocky wall of the outcrop, precariously close to the edge, with complete elan. 'Why do you serve them?' She wasn't out to induce dissent, she was merely intrigued. She supposed he might owe them some debt, as he had mentioned about his name and place, but perhaps it was more. She realised she was hoping this, wanting it all to be some great interesting story. It could simply be that he was a mercenary. She hoped not. It wouldn't be nearly as satisfying.

[Orestias]

((Okay, so that magic took a little longer to kick in. I am really sorry >.< But...poof? *mystic finger waving*))

Orestias allowed himself a moment's reprieve from his stoyn countenance and cracked a hint of a grin, and gave a sideways nod in acknowledgment of Mnemosyne's suspicion and the gently curious look she gave him. Or rather, well stated truth that they both knew to be true. Her analogy was what elicited the grin from Orestias's oft austere features, it was so true, there was no denying that. Though the gods treated the thought as though it was some unholy utterance, spoke of only amongst blasphemers and conceived of in the darkest pits of Tartarus. "No more true words have been spoken atop this mountain.". More than once, the wills of his masters have crossed, even at times upon the same life, one directing it's taking, the other it's preservation. Deciding was often an arduous pursuit, but invariably, Orestias honored the wills of those who gave him form, name, and sword first. Poseidon, Aphrodite, and Hades. Without their wills, he would have no arm to enforce the intents of the others. More than once, it had in turn earned him unmentionable rancor, but, his allegiances were unshakable.

"I listen for all of their commands, but I set upon only one at once. I have learned, as have my masters, that that is the way by which all of their wishes may be made so. Not that that evokes much a change in their distemperment at being made to wait, but I see this an unavoidable. Though I do my most to ensure that this period is never of any length. The lives of all of us seem easier when that is done.".

As she spoke again, Mnemosyne placed herself against the wall of ancient stone, and let herself back, relaxing into it's confines. Orestias maintained his stern stance and straight back, despite the easier look on his face. The question she posed was a wise one, and one that at one time had a simple and clear answer that had, with the years, become infinitely more complicated. "Why...because the gods granted me my form. They gave me my name, and made me more than a breeze upon the world below us. They gave me something that immortality alone could not have granted, an experience, a lesson in myself...". His eyes turned now off the promontory and down below into the mortal world. "Of battle. To see fury, and honor, and courage made into something more than high ideals whispered here, and put upon pedestals, yet never to be upheld. To walk upon the soft grasses and amongst the wheat of the warmed earth, to feel the sun upon my face. It is more than a debt, it is gratitude, I suppose. I want not riches, though they are offered. The gods can keep their gold. I would just as soon grant it to a worthy mortal. I have what I need."

[Mnemosyne]

She smiled, unable to help herself. Normally, she found the warrior types... tedious at best. They always had the same, tired morals and the same, tired words and the same, tired memories. But not this one. There was something else in this one. She couldn't help but admire the honest irreverence, though tempered with respect. And besides, she was a sucker for a good story. It was, after all, in her nature. She liked dramatic.
Besides, she knew those last words. "I have what I need." Something she said to herself all the time, when she needed reassuring that she really did have everything. When she needed reassuring that the rest of her race being locked away in the deepest pit of hell was a good thing.
But those times grew fewer all the time. She didn't dwell on those thoughts here.
'So, ever grateful to our majestic and benevolent overlords, you are happy in your lot.' There was a slight twinge of sarcasm on the middle part, but it wasn't entirely insincere. 'Sorry. Can't help it. They are not my favourite people in this world.' She smiled apologetically, and turned to look out over the world again.
She was having one of her odd moods again. Saying stupid things she didn't mean. Her impetuous hot head, getting her into trouble all over again.
She let the cool breeze blow over her, hoping it might take away the irrationality in her mind.
After a few moments, she turned back, a little calmer.
She waved one hand vaguely around her face, trying, somehow, to communicate feelings and emotions with a simple flick of the wrist. Needless to say, she failed.
'I... get... strange, sometimes. I offer my most sincere apologies. I suppose I ought to be around people more, I seem to have lost my touch somewhat. I do not mean to offend.' she shook her head, leaning back onto the stone and shivering slightly. It was colder out here than she'd thought. 'I understand what you mean though, to be happy with what you have as who you are.' She smiled. 'I really do.'

[Orestias]

The undertone of sarcasm in Mnemosyne's voice was tangible, but it did not betray her sentiment. Nor was it particularly unreasonable. Being a titaness, he would not have been at all surprised for her to dismiss him altogether long before now. Doing what he did, being as he was, it would not be unreasonable either. Still, he was unsure of how to react to her comment. Deciding that it was nothing to make an issue of, he paused for thought. Put in her place, he would likely still be raging against the gods. Orestias had no family, nor a lover, but he believed he understood the notion of such loyalty well. "No, do not be.", he said as she turned from him, looking down onto the rolling earth before them. So far below, an expanse of soft, deep green and sharp, stark whites from mountain tops, and the grays of the urban areas, sprinkled with shining lights. The mortal world had changed so, but from the timeless visage of Olympus, it still looked peaceful. He understood the calming feeling it could bring on, and restore one to equilibrium.

"Speak your mind. Is the freedom of thought not something we so highly prized? My thoughts, or anyone's, upon yours matters nothing. Think, and speak as you will. I would go so far as to say your dislike is understandable, though I do not share it.".

He let silence fall upon them with this, only the sound of the breeze twisting around the jutting rock and the two that stood upon it. When Mnemosyne turned to him again, she motioned in front of her face, then looked to her hand disappointedly and let it fall again. "Strange? If that is strange, then the directions that I have seen my masters' wills take are unmentionable. Your apology is accepted, as are your thoughts. I do not share them, but you've every right to keep them. You did not offend me. If I became cross with everyone who thought poorly of my masters, this place would be so empty. As would the world below us.". He nodded to her, it was the truth. Orestias believed firmly, unshakeably, in the right of one to be as they would. Any mortal warrior who's aid he came to was likely to be fighting for this, it was as close to an honorable cause as was fought over in this age.

"I am glad you know this as I do, it pleases me to know. To live any other way is to be wasteful of time and life. And it is to lose too much, that is too precious.". Perhaps it was his immersion in death, a history drown in blood, but he believed this too. Believed it despite his ageless existence. "But I have asked nothing. If I may, where is it you find your happiness, Mnemosyne?"

[Mnemosyne]

She smiled, flicking back her long hair with one hand and leaning back onto the stone outcrop. She was surprised he didn't know, what with her being so old and all, but she supposed there were a lot of people around, so perhaps she wasn't as infamous and avoided as she'd thought. Either way, she liked discussing it.
'In song, and dance, and prayer, and hymns and all the arts.' Her eyes were lit with some inner fire, where her daughters found one passion and one alone, she encompassed all, with a deeper care than they could possess. They were only half titan, after all. 'In all the words that humans utter, and gods, in every language. When they curse, when they sing, when they write and mutter and even when they use their body language. I find my happiness in art expressed, and in the words that are most beautiful of all, in the human mind.' She realised she had been ranting slightly, her stance more forward than perhaps was polite. She subsided a little, hiding behind her ever advancing hair. No matter how much she pushed it back, it always crept forward over her eyes. The disadvantage of this human form, though it had its uses. 'I enjoy beauty, in all its forms, I suppose, but none more so than that borne of human words and movement. Music is a form of language too, you could say. And languages are so beautiful.'
She shook her head.
'I'm sorry. I can go on rather. Do stop me if I start to bore you.' She wound a lock of red hair around her index finger, thoughtful. 'But I could go on forever.' She hummed a tune she'd heard once, many years ago, it was sweet and lilting, rising and falling like the wind on a cloudless night, singing to the stars. She knew the words, but she didn't sing them aloud at first, muttering them in her head until the tune took her over and they crept out, quiet at first, drifting across the air and strumming gentle fingers across the atmosphere, so the night seemed to quiver like a string on a lyre.
'Shine on, shine on,
Though sea and earth be torn asunder.
Shine on, shine on,
Through wind and rain and thunder.
While pots they crack,
And metal fade to rust.
Shine on, shine on,
Till all below is dust.'
She carried on singing, the words fading into the wind, carrying away the dreams of rack and ruin through the night. But she was smiling, at the tune, at the words, and the memories of the man who'd sat beneath the olive tree and sung that tune in Greek as a bitter tribute to the unkind rulers of the land. Very few still knew the morbid lullaby, and fewer still were in any position to share. The world had been cruel when the titans were in charge.