Rosemarie
A grand promenade lined with majestic marble columns and adorned with golden arches. The Golden Galleria serves as the entrance to the Plutonian Prosperity District, inviting denizens to stroll through a corridor of opulent shops and boutiques offering treasures from both mortal and divine realms.
Jason
One could always smell the rain before it began, and the static electricity of something coming up behind was evident as Alastor strolled down the perfectly paved entryway, sipping on a Limited Edition Purple Galaxy Plutonian Slushie. 
Everyone was moving, and he felt the world tilt, as if having vertigo. 
Something wasn't right. 

The shadows wriggled as he cast a wide net to search for what was beyond his sight and they wriggled as a seismic movement was headed this way. 
Alastor turned to look behind him, over his shoulder and over his sunglasses as he took a sip of his slushie.

And suddenly, it was pitch black. 

Jet black blotted out the sun, effectively turning Zeus' big ol' light off. The world became a landspace of monochromatic gloom.
Alastor couldn't help but smile as his teeth clamped down on the straw. 

*Hades.* 

The screaming was like murder violins. Soft as first, cascading in a syncopated beat as series after series of people began to realize what was happening and was running back the way the came. 
Alastor quickly phased to an arch, standing up on the top crest of the structure. 

*Schuuuuuuuulp*. 
The plastic echo of liquid nearly being drained was drowned out by the screams, the tinge of copper so robust he tasted it, thick on his tongue. It ruined the slurpie. 

The hoard of the undead were already throwing itself forwards like rabid pack of mice that couldn't sate it's frenzy fast enough, engulfing the less fortunate. 

**"I can only surmise what caused this,"** He spoke to no one in particular, a hand outstretched before flipping. 
The first few rows of undead stalled, and then turned, going after the other undead behind them. It created enough of a gap for the mortals still running to find some solace. 

A few more flicks of his hand, and several groups of undead were cast in a curse to be killed by another undead. He dropped the plastic drink cup and it landed in the trash can below the arch. 
A few stranglers get past, but with a glance,

They fell, their feeble bones shattering against the material of the plaza. 

**"Oh, bad luck..."** He tutted. 
**"Probably shouldn't have tried to kill so mindlessly.."** As if it were all their faults, and not at all Hades. Alastor's normal shtick was to find the one responsible and place retribution to them, but like Cerberus' firey balls he was going to go try to *Curse the Kind of the Damned himself.*
He'd do as much damage control as he could up here, while Hades cooled off.
Phyllis
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Amara was panting, barely holding herself together from the powers that threatened to destroy her as she did what she could within the remnants of destruction. Chest heaving and beads of sweat threatening to stick every piece of raven hair to face and neck. It was almost over, the men dwindling down to one that could be heard pleading from the balconies above. One. Then a rumble shook the earth, and the building crumbled further as the dead rose again. 

"Fuck sake, just once. Just once could you guys talk it out?" Amara shouted out to no one in particular as she dove from the fury of the ravaging beasts. All of them. Every single soldier that had raided and rampaged was now on a direct path outside. To the- 

"Hades." 

Amara gasped as darkness consumed the world and screams echoed from every direction. Not just within, but beyond, to the mortals that had begged and prayed to their Gods. It seemed they had answered in kind. Shown what it was to be human amongst the immortals. Blindness consumed most as lights flickered and diminished beneath the curls of shadows all around. Her eyes adjusted slowly as her feet moved against. 

Slowly.

Carefully.
_ _

With the grace of a cat on the ledge, not wanting to fall to her doom, but doom was all around her, and lurking within. Pouncing at the first chance and sending her tumbling out onto the streets. Her dress hiked with quick precision, to pull a dagger from her thigh and shove it within the undead's jaws in hopes to stop the violent rampage. Only to have its teeth bend and snap the blade that held until only a handle was within her capable hands. 

"Tsk, remind me to kill that merchant later, will ya?" A joke to the snarling, drooling mess above her as the handle kept its teeth from digging into flesh. 

As the darkness engulfed them, Amara found herself face to face with the broken jaw of a man she had already come to blows with. Hollow eyes bore down upon her, hungering for the warmth of life that still pulsed within her veins. A defiant grunt could be heard from her as she pushed against him from beneath, strength beyond her frame sending him into the dirt beyond as she quickly stood once more. Her feet finding the ground, and a sense of relief flooding her, only to take in a scene from the worst renditions of the Underworld all around her. 
_ _

The Undead were an ocean, surging forward onto unsuspecting mortals and Amara was helpless with powers that only drove those with minds still intact into the depths of madness and fear. 

*"I can only surmise what caused this."*

Suddenly a voice spoke within the vicinity, and an eyebrow cocked in curiosity on the deadly enchantress' features, to who could speak with such casual demeanor to their tone in a time like this. "You don't say? Was it the overwhelming waves of the undead or the smothering darkness that gave hint that our lovely King of the Underworld finally decided to say hi?" 

"His precious Queen was injured... I suppose we all should have seen this coming in retaliation but .. Fuck. How much destruction can one simple damsel in distress cause?" 
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𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:
Jason
*'You don't say?..'* 

The God of Retribution was nearly wraith-like, his blue-hazel eyes were still much too bright in the darkness that devoured the sun, and they met Amara's figure. 
She was struggling. Her demigod status lending her some... Less than favorable conditions for a battle of this scale. 
He could have done something at that moment to aid her as she spoke, however, he was musing over what she knew and it elicited a smirk that spread up the left side of his mouth.

His hands slipped into the pockets of his slacks. 
Though, Alastor also felt the stab of barbedwire in his chest to learn that Persphone had been hurt. He also disliked the way Amara had referred to her as a "Simple damsel in distress." 
Alastor's smile flattened and his eyebrows raised at her daring statement.
The God would let her struggle and fight for a moment longer while he expressed himself and his rapport for the circumstance. 
That seemed fair.

**"You underestimate Hades' willingness to destroy this entire world for his wife. You also underestimate how much her love has kept Hades happy and has tempered more than one outburst, or slight, or reaction. He does tend to fly off the handle, and if you think you could have a *Talk* With Hades when he is upset? Someone wholly beneath him?"**
A soft breath of air pushed out of his nose, scoffing at the ridiculous thought.
**"I digress. Persphone has been the best for him that he could ever have. She is the reason the mortals are not doomed fifty percent of the time. That's more than I can say for any other God."** 

Suddenly, a well of darkness came crashing around Amara, barring her off from the undead. Jagged edges crushed into the zombies and the circumference of the tube expanded, allowing the demigod room to catch her breath. 

**"Don't you look quite nice?"** He turned his attention unceremoniously to her dress. Alastor walked out of the dark well of respite and into the center with Amara.

**"What's the occasion?"**

<
Phyllis
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Amara could feel her temper rising at his tone. If she had a nickel for every time a God had used her for their entertainment, she may very well be rich by now. The bitterness started to linger on her tongue and fester deep within the memories of despair and contempt. His words a sting to her, a metaphorical slap to the face fin response to the sarcasm in her own tone. She was no fool to this, Persephone had many loyal followers amongst the Gods. Respect she steadfastly held for her role as Queen and the water to Hades' flames, but it changed nothing of Amara's own thoughts and experiences and so in her stubborn nature her jaw set. Her muscles growing tired and sore at the struggles of the ferocity in the undead. 

"I am quite aware of any God's capability and willingness to destroy the entirety of the mortal realm for their own purpose. Ego or woman, it makes no difference to me, we are but ants to you and your kind do very much so like stepping on the hill." Words through gritted teeth. Her fire and temper never did her well for getting out of situations, so much as placing her within them. "I don't wish to speak to Hades, or any of you for that matter..." A bite to her tone, like a tempered child backed into a corner. 
_ _

Just as she had stated the words, darkness crashed around them and freed her from her living nightmare. Her chest heaving as it attempted to catch up with the energy she had exerted, she nearly toppled over onto the pavement before her. Somewhat in awe of the expanse of power he had just demonstrated while still looking if he was unbothered by the entirety of this scenario of apocalyptic nature. "Thank. You." A forced sense of her gratitude through gasps. Not knowing if it was her struggle to recover, or the wish to tell him to go fuck himself for playing with her before saving her. 

*"Don't you look quite nice? What's the occasion?"* 

Amara looked down at her dress, tattered and torn. The diamonds that had been strewn across her back were now dangling and barely holding the cloth together. Her hands self consciously moving to pull the risen fabric down and cover more of her bare skin. "Saving your precious Persephone." Sarcasm dripped from her words, but reminding herself of the shadows he had just cast upon the undead, she quickly added. "I am surprised you didn't know, the entirety of the God population seemed to be within the club tonight... Including the goddess of Spring, and..." Amara hesitated at the last part, biting her lip at how much she should say to a complete stranger, a God, no less. "Injuries occurred, but I was able to take out her assailant before- before he finished her entirely and she was whisked off to what I could only assume was Hades' presence." 
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𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎:
Jason
Was Alastor's mention of her dress being "Lovely" A slight, or a true compliment of what he imagined she was wearing before? 
Undetermined.
Though the talk of a party made his eyes lock to her's, holding contact while she weakly tried to use Persphone like a white glove across his face. There was little reaction to be had, as Alastor didn't want to waste his energy. 
He continued to stay quiet until she stuttered and her words switched gears as to not get into too much detail. She was withholding the rest of the participants for what reason? 
The God supposed that he probably wasn't invited tl the little get-together for some reason or another. 
He made a small list of those she had already spoke of. 
*This girl, Hades, Demeter, and Persphone...*
So, Hades was planning something?

It did come to his attention that he hadn't introduced himself.

**"Apologies, young one. I am Alastor, God of Retribution. And whose club did you say this was?"** He questioned quickly, breezing through his introduction. 
He gave her the time it took to slip open the brass cigarette case he carried around, pull a cigarette out, place it between his lips, shut it, while switching for his lighter, lighting the toxic stick and then putting everything away, to answer him. 
He didn't look at her until he was finished.
He left his left hand in his pocket, the right pinched the little white tube with an index finger and thumb. 

If she refused to answer, he didn't mind. 

**"I just want to know how I missed out on all the fun."** 
A partial lie. 
**"Though, for you to take out Persphone's assailant, he must have been mortal, correct?
Despite Hades'..."** 
Alastor gestured to the sky above them, and sort of all around with a circle of his hand. Smoke from the cigarette trailed. 

**"My point being, if there is a larger attempt from one side, in the middle of the war, and whoever it was that was sent, might be better if you focus on *Who* Sent them. Do you know?"** 

Any glower was met with hiked

Eyebrows that said *'I could have just let you stay overwhelmed, and I'm privvy to change my mind.'*
A moment to chat and catch up wouldn't kill her. It was her only reprieve at the moment, honestly.
Phyllis
It didn't take a genius to note the genuine curiosity in his voice. A casual demeanor that masked the many questions swimming in the silent air of his shadows surrounding them. The chaos just echoes beyond them, as Amara readied herself to be berated by the rabid beasts once more the second he bored of her and left her to fend for herself.

Her lips pursed as she studied him, a genuine distrust in her gaze as it slid over the cigarette that now lay lazily on his fingertips. "I am just someone who was in the wrong place at the wrong time in Hades club. If you are looking for information, the King and Queen would be the ones to request an audience with..." Amara looks to the skies once more, the undead beyond the shadows. "Perhaps the Queen... Hades was not present though. I can answer that much to your questions, and yes ...The man was mortal." 
_ _

There was hesitation to her as she realized the moment she was useless to the god of retribution was the moment she fended for herself once more. Still catching her breath with beads of sweat pouring down her forehead she relented to the final bit of information she knew. "He said something about his reasons.. Hades being inactive in the war. A rather ironic thing. Hades is within the war and we are cast into darkness now, proof that the Underworld's involvement is the last thing we fucking need..." She cast a sideways glance to Alastor as she swiped her other dagger from its place against her thigh, studying it to assure the metal was of better standing than the one before. "No offense, if you .. Ya'know fight for the big bad Daddy Underworld." 

Satisfied, she slid the blade back within its strap and placed her hands on her hips in a more relaxed form. A false bravado and confidence emanating from her. "So.. Ali, can I call you Ali? I don't suppose I can convince you to walk a girl home. This..." Her hands waved to the shadowed shield around them. "Seems a rather convenient tool." 
_ _
Jason
**"You don't come across to me as the nicknaming type,"** He responded without much vocal inclination other than boredom. It was obvious there was very little approval for the shorted version of his name. He also stated this without know much about Amara in the first place. 

*Ali.*
It sounded as if he was about to go on a magic carpet ride with a Arabian Princess, or was short for Alissa. Neither of which were very fitting. 

Alastor took another drag from the cigarette, his gaze cast downward, yet his mouth pulling into a contemplative line. 

**"Isn't it?"** 
He began to pace the clearing he'd made, and only met Amara's gaze after taking a few steps forward. 

**"My question to you is, would fight me and win to earn being taken home?"** 
A dark smile cut along his face, the sparkle of mischief were in those bright blue eyes. He waited for her response, before flicking the ash from his addiction. 
He seemed serious, as he had been watching her gaze assess her weapons. Her half mortal state put her at the perfect disadvantage, yet... He couldn't find a reason other than a sick need to win in which he wanted to fight her. 
To the God, she had suffered much by Hades' hand already, and being one representative of Justice, he felt inclined to uphold that creed of fairness. 
Amara didn't ask to be thrust into this game, after all. 

**"I'm only kidding.~"** Alastor chuckled, taking another drag. 
This time, when he blew out the smoke, a dark mist wrapped around them. 
In that forever dark, the God's voice came. 
**"Think about your home. You don't have to say it outloud. Just think about where it is. See it in your mind."** 

Once Amara had the picture clearly, the darkness fell away, and she was home. 
Alastor didn't seem to be anywhere in sight - not immediately visible, anyway.
Rosemarie
Amara's lips twitched with a hint of amusement at Alastor's seeming disdain when Ali left her lips, her gaze flickering with curiosity as he paced before her. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, she sensed an undercurrent of intensity in his words, a hidden depth waiting to be unraveled as the cigarette lit against the enveloping curls of smoke.

"Appearances can be deceiving, Ali."

As Alastor's dark smile danced across his face, Amara couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through her veins. His challenge hung in the air, a tantalizing invitation to a dance of power and wits. She knew the odds were stacked against her as they were with any God she had faced off against in her time on this mortal realm, yet the fire of determination burned bright within her soul. With a knowing glint in her eyes, she met Alastor's gaze head-on. "I'm always up for a challenge," She replied, her voice steady and stoic despite the growing moans of the undead around them and the fatigued body that screamed of sleep and release.

As the darkness enveloped them once more, Amara's thoughts drifted back to the comfort of home, her heart yearning for the familiar embrace of vanilla with her blanket wrapped around her shoulders in solemn quiet. And when the shadows finally receded, leaving her standing alone in the quiet stillness of her home, she blinked as if coming out of a haze. 

Amara's mind buzzed with a mix of confusion and relief as she found herself back in familiar surroundings. Her gaze scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of Alastor. The sudden disappearance of the enigmatic figure left her feeling both intrigued and wary. With a cautious step forward, she mulled over the encounter with the dark God, trying to make sense of Alastor's intentions. His unpredictable nature had left her on the edge of a cliff, unsure of what his next move might be, if any at all. Perhaps he had just been toying with the half breed woman before him. Yet, beneath the layers of mystery, she sensed a hint of something deeper, a glimmer of empathy perhaps, buried within the god's complex persona.

It was then that she sensed it, or rather him, and cringed. She had never let anyone into her space before, let alone a God she barely knew. This felt vulnerable, a prodding in their playful banter she hadn't quite steeled herself against. "I can sense your darkness. Tell me the game you wish to play." 
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Jason
The scent of vanilla was a nice touch, the God of Retribution had to admit. There was a coziness in her longing for somewhere outside of the chaos of the upheaval of the dead, rotting and scarce remains that Hades had resurrected. Anyone who has smelled the deas knows they will smell that smell for a few hours. Mixed with sweat and blood from fighting them off, the demigod was more princess in distress than a wore torn warrior. 

Alastor's judgemental observation of her wasn't lost on himself, and moved through the dark corners of her abode. He studied her in this new environment. 
Amara was just a young woman here. She looked out of place in her ruined dress and knives hanging out of her slack grip. Though, if ripped clothing and dulled blades were the only damage during her attempts to protect herself, then... She had quite a good teacher.

**"This entire war is a game,"** He stepped out from the shadows somewhere behind her, though his voice echoed through several corners.
It was click of his tongue that gave away his position. 

**"I won't stay long. However, I will require a favor from you when I deem it necessary to call on it. And you will not refuse. Least you find yourself out of your house and thrown back into that... Poorly planned disaster. 
I don't care what side you are on. I know where to find you, and but I will only warn you about any inkling of betrayal to our oath now. Retribution is not to be confused with kindess, and a favor is the least you owe me in exchange for saving you. It's only fair, after all.~"**

Alastor had stamped out his cigarette long ago in the void travel between the square her Amara's home. His smile looked so... Welcoming, nearly friendly, with no teeth to show in anger. His hands were tucked neatly in his pockets. 

**"Beautiful home by the way. I love vanilla and your furniture shows off a fun side of you. I hope we run into eachother on less...*Tense* Terms. Farewell."** 

Alastor slipped into the

Shadows once more and this time they felt empty.