Carolina
*Shadows mutter, mist replies, and darkness purrs as the light hides...*
Casey
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❝ ⌜ 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓭𝓻𝓪𝓰𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓸𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓹𝓪𝓼𝓽, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓼𝓵𝓮𝓹𝓽 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝔀𝓸𝓵𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓪𝓬𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓮𝓪𝓻, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓼𝓱𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓱𝓸𝓮𝓷𝓲𝔁 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓲𝓼𝓮 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓪𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼.⎯ ✶⌝ ❞
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`Title.` [What a Wonderful World](
`Setting.` within the chaos of hades' reckoning once more.
`Characters.` Zosar , Amara.
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⋆.˚ ☪︎ ִ ࣪ .𖥔˚.
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Rage. This was all the raven haired storm given flesh felt, as she stared at the pictures upon her walls. Candles flickered in the unforgiving darkness that now smothered the world, and the blood of the undead dried against sun kissed skin. Her hands wrapped around her bruised and battered form, in a vulnerability she had not felt in ages. 

He had followed her. Entered into the threshold that she had kept to herself, untouched from the outer world. The Gods, the Champions, all of her responsibilities, her frenemies she had made for survival's sake. Not one of them had stepped foot in the shrine she had made, to a life that once was. Her mother's face smiling down upon her, arms wrapped around a younger woman who had once been full of hope. Full of a longing for life that had long since died in Deimos' capable hands. "Fuck!" 
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Glass broke as a vase was thrown against the wall. What was it that shattered her mind? Why was she bothered that a God she barely knew had seen her secret sanctuary, been within it and lurked the shadows of her most personal possessions? Was it the lack of control? No matter. The rage needed an outlet, and Amara had nowhere else to shatter things that would not leave her regret on the morrow. So her fingers moved to the sword upon the wall. Hands gripping the leather of the hilt, before she descended into the darkness once more. 

She needed to be anywhere, anywhere but here right now. End of the world be damned. She was nothing if not a selfish being, so warped in her hysteria and madness that she felt she could not wait Hades' own tempered rage out. 
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The Amara that emerged the streets this time was different. She was a beautiful wraith that wielded a sword like a composer wielded a symphony. This Amara was the champion of fear. This was darkness reincarnate, a monster with eyes that shown of the raging sea against the moonlit chaos. 

Her limbs screamed as her arms tore at every rabid beast that approached her. Her teeth gritted against her body's pull to rest. Rest. Sleep. It was all the parts of her that had sense wanted in these rage fueled moments, yet she carried on. Sword finding limbs and vital points until she left the street a bread crumb trail to where she was headed. 

She didn't know why she had chosen here. Why him. Not when she refused to admit the friendship they held for so long. Yet here Amara stood before his door, blood dripping from every crevice as her fist pounded against solid frame. A smirk playing across her shadowed face, bruises beginning to form on cheek and eye and blood splattered across in all shades of crimson. She was a horror film reborn, yet her voice was light and full of banter as the door opened to the recognizable face of the owner within. 

"Hey bestie, care for a sleepover?" 

Words spoken in casual manner, before her body collapsed upon the unforgiving floor.
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Victoria
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**Tags:** 
**TW:** Blood, gore, insinuated violence.
**Notes:** This is quite long but my first posts normally are, please do not stress about needed to write as much as me if you do not want.
**Songs:**

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*He hardly ever referred to its weathered pages anymore, but the creases embedded like veins across every corner spoke of Zosar's intimacy with the book's cathartic contents. Upon the glass coffee table, it lay open with its spine exposed, the hinge no longer attached to its inlay. Years ago, the dense volume had belonged to his mother; a collection of her favourite poems, translated into Arabic and gifted to her son on his 9th birthday. Wesam had always inspired her only child to wield words not weapons. Yet in her miserable absence, the Demi-God had learned his fingertips, once feeble and ink-stained, now had the power to summon a hurricane.*

*Sometimes, it hardly felt real. The way Zeus had just shown up on his doorstep one day, exposing the Egyptian to a new world and order that spat in the face of everything the mortal ever believed to be true. Zosar exhaled exasperatedly, both elbows balanced atop his knees, hands combing through his unkempt locks as the Champion leaned forward in his chair. There, the man remained for a minute, simply staring at the carpet below. He wondered what his mother would say now, if she knew how much blood he'd spilled since the start of Poseidon's rebellion.*

-
**"My candle burns at both ends, it will not last the night;"** *He recited from memory one of his favourite pieces by Edna St. Vincent Millay,* **"But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends; it gives a lovely light..."**

*The Son of Zelus pondered on each whispered word, caressed by the silence of midnight approaching. He chewed on the known extended metaphor and deconstructed it over and over again in his mind. Many believed the four-liner was about living life to the absolute fullest, though Zosar postulated there was a darker undertone that had simply been ignored. Certainly, it wasn't the most complicated poem in his archive, and yet, a part of him always wondered if the scholars had misconstrued the true meaning behind the exclamation point at the end. Perhaps it wasn't supposed to insinuate joy, but rather, suffering.*

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*Pursing his lips, the Egyptian decided that he was not going to resolve this conundrum any time soon, and instead, pulled himself up off the couch and ambled towards the kitchen. Flicking the toggle on his kettle, Zosar retrieved a mug out of an overhead cabinet followed by a green-tea bag from the near-empty open box upon the counter. As he waited for the water to boil, the Champion leaned his figure against the edge of the stone benchtop, arms folding across his chest as he began to mentally mull through the list of things he needed to do tomorrow. Just as the steam started to escape from the kettle's spout, a rapping at the door caused the Demi-God's hazel gaze to cut across the room. Immediately, his frame grew rigid, his posture straightening as the Mortal tried to think who would be calling at this hour of the night. Naturally, the man's paranoia did not help the situation, and as his heart began to thrum in his chest, Zosar moved like a cat back through the living room, and towards his front door.*

*Tentatively, the Egyptian unlatched each of the four bolted locks, and as the door creaked open, he could hardly believe who was standing before him. Amara. Upon realising who it was, Zosar's wariness turned to genuine concern as he swung the door wide open and allowed the shadowy figure to enter his abode without question. She looked like shit, and that was putting it mildly. Her face was a hundred shades of purple and blue, skin split by countless cuts and abrasions that bled crimson down her neck. He barely had a chance to jokingly query what the other guy looked like, before the Champion of Deimos collapsed onto his lounge room's floor.*

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**"For fuck's sake, woman! Not on my new carpet."**

*It may have seemed casually cruel and heartless to mention such superficial things, but that was the sort of relationship the pair had shared for as long as they'd known each other. Sarcastic, witty, unyielding. Few were as stupidly headstrong and hellbent on killing themselves as Amara was, and though Zosar never liked seeing her in such a state; it was hardly uncommon. After rapidly closing his door, the Egyptian begrudgingly leaned down and looped his arm under the Demi-God's own, hauling her back up onto her feet as if she were as light as a feather. Zeus' Champion bore her weight with ease, practically carrying the woman over to his sofa, setting her down as carefully as he could upon it. If she even so much as winced, he would chastise her until the sun rose, though Amara would know that, unequivocally.*

**"Nice to know not even near-death experiences are a reason to call first,"** *Zosar commented, matter-of-factly, hands on his hips as he glared down at his best friend, taking stock of injuries. His frown deepened, noting the degree at which her body had been battered, beaten and sliced; it was horrific.* **"Far out, Amara, what in the hells have you been doing tonight?"**

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*He wouldn't wait for a response, because rarely did the woman offer one up. Instead, Zosar disappeared from view into an adjoining room, reappearing a few minutes later with a glass full of whiskey in one hand and a first-aid kit in the other. Taking a seat next to the Demi-God, the Champion set the tumbler of liquor in front of Amara, sighing as he did so.*

**"I don't have any ice, but I can cool it for you if you need,"** *The Son of Zelus then pulled the knitted throw off the armrest, and wrapped it around his friend's shoulders without any further castigation.* **"You want me to clean this shit off your face, or do you want to have a crack?"** *A tender smile, for the first time that night was offered up by Zeus' Champion, as he presented the woman with a warm flannel to use if she so wished.*