Carol
~ Frank Herbert, "Dune"
Eleanor
Alexios knew that the days of getting away with destroying godly infrastructure were numbered, but he was spreading the chaos as much as he could until then. The gods thought they were untouchable - and maybe they were - but there were other ways one could make them feel vulnerable. He chose to hit a few temples first, distracting them with descrating their monuments without harming a single person. Ares' temple and Dionysus's Vineyard Fields were just two of the targets in the victimless crimes. Hephaestus's forge was another, Alexios choosing to hit it simply to slow down production of the weapons being used in the war. He knew it wouldn't stop things completely, but it would do some damage. 

His Champions were putting in the work. Alexios couldn't be everywhere at once, but he had plenty of people he could count on to do their jobs effectively. Esmeray was busy dealing with Triton while he was vulnerable, Jared was having too much fun burning Dionysus's fields and stealing expensive wine, and Amara was . . . Being Amara - choosing her target carefully doing what needed to be done. 

That left Alexios with the biggest one of all - Zeus's temple. It was the prime target to send a message to the gods that mortals and demigods alike would no longer just be pawns in their wargames. They weren't going to take the devastation of their lives or the destruction of their homes lying down. It was time to make a stand. 

That was his hope, anyway. He stood inside of Zeus's temple dressed as a worshipper of the god - a white robe with a lightning bolt etched above the left breast, and gold trim webbing around the neck and sleeves which made it look like lightning streaks. Alexios kept the hood up over his head, though he was almost one hundred percent sure no one would recognize him; he was just copying the other worshippers in the temple.

Blue eyes peeked out from under the hood, looking for weak points in the pillars, finding the best places to strike foundation and force it to crumble. Alexios's power could accelerate decay in both living things and objects; all he needed to do was find the weakest points and exploit them. It wasn't a job he could do in a day, especially since there were so many worshippers crowding the temple, but it was a process he could begin. 

He followed the others to the head of the temple where the main altar was, hiding his disdain for the statue that stood towering over the entire room. Zeus's likeness haunted all of Olympian, and Alexios couldn't stand to look at it, as memories always flooded his mind with memories of Jessie's death, his father's . . . His mother. All of the victims in his own life and countless others at the hands of such a monster. 

His body briefly tensed but he let it go, his shoulder slumping as he dipped his hands in the cleansing water of the temple, following along with the other worshippers. Then he moved off to the side to kneel and pray, but kept his eyes moving around the room to scope out weak points.
Brandon
With every new moon, the shroud of unease throughout Olympus only grew. Whispers of desecrated temples crept into Olympian. Messengers warned him, there was threat on Earth. The destruction of Hephaestus' Forge struck a chord within him in particular. Cessation of weapon production was direct sabotage, and Zeus took it incredibly personally. Every second was vital, and this was what he took notice of. Most took the side of Zeus if not Poseidon, but the evidence before him suggested the contrary. Neutrality among Olympian, lurking somewhere he'd been blind to. 

As Zeus pondered over each broken monument, an undeniable conviction settled within him. His own temple might have found itself in the crossfire, and he would not allow it. So, that morning he could be found there. With searching eyes and a wild heart, he dared someone strike. 

He had devoted every moment to preparing for the war. Immersed in a relentless pursuit, he operated with a single-minded focus that bordered on obsession. Time had passed like it was nothing, and soon he came to find he had inadvertently overlooked not just one, but several attacks throughout Olympian. 

He would need to regain his footing. 

Amidst the sea of mortals, all clad in white robes and golden stitching, Zeus stood as a solitary figure moving against the current. They had gathered at his temple, a place where reverence breathed through the air, their movements mimicked one another in silent worship. Yet, he walked in the opposite direction, his expression mirrored carved stone. With searching eyes he wove through the crowd, looking for anyone who appeared out of place. 

—

As Zeus approached the fountain, his gaze fell upon a figure peeking out from under his hood. He watched as he scooped water into his hands before moving to a posture of prayer. Suddenly, the clamor around him seemed to dissolve into silence. As if a spotlight had dimmed all other distractions, suddenly only they existed. He halted, nearly mid-step. An unfamiliar chill pricked the back of his neck, his heart thudded loudly in his ears. Confusion furrowed Zeus's brow, a deep unease settled in his chest, leaving him profoundly uncomfortable, yet inexplicably drawn to understand why. 

It was a sensation more eerie than anything else, a feeling no mortal could evoke. So, he wondered who he was looking at. He approached the man, his hands clasped loosely behind him. His expression was quizzical, yet vague. There was little Zeus lacked knowledge of. So, he would need to know him. 

"Mind if I join you?"
Eleanor
*Holy shit.*

The words crossed his mind the moment he saw who entered the temple, towering over his followers as he strode against the direction of the crowd. The God of the Sky himself. 

Zeus. 

A collective gasp passed over the worshippers in the temple, and Conner joined them in their surprise, though his was far less positive than the rest. A violent chill was felt down to his bones and every muscle in his body tensed. He was thankful he wore the robe to conceal every subtle movement. Eyes falling to the ground, he tried to avoid making contact with Zeus's intense stare so he could go unnoticed. 

Around him, the worshippers dropped to their knees to bow, but Conner's body went rigid as he hesitated. Pride screamed at him to never bow to that monster, but intelligence forced his knees to bend so he could remain hidden in plain sight. It was not the time nor the place to confront Zeus. He wasn't ready. 

Despite his attempts to appear natural, something must have made him stand out. His hesitation or his expression, *Something* Seemed to draw Zeus toward him. Each step the god took made his heart race a little faster, made every muscle in his body scream for him to get out of there as fast as possible. But he remained in place, forcing himself to remain still despite instincts telling him otherwise. 

There was a strange sensation as Zeus got close. The fear and the anger passed through Conner and he suddenly felt surprisingly calm. He took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling as he forced his body to relax. His eyes focused on a crack in the granite floor and he let his mind go blank.

When Zeus finally spoke to him, he didn't flinch. He simply glanced up, and then looked away fast, acting like a follower who was in awe that he was being spoken to by his god. 

"Me? What have I done to deserve such an honor, my lord?" He hoped Zeus didn't have super hearing because his heart was slamming against his chest.
Brandon
As Zeus loomed over the hooded figure, a tempest of disquiet brewed in his chest. It appeared proximity invoked an alchemical reaction, one with a fervor he could not quell. He found the sensation bewildering, and as he sat in it, it began to gnaw at him. The man's gaze briefly surged upwards, blue eyes flashed in his direction before hastily retreating towards the floor. A stillness overcame Zeus, and as he watched this, his brows dared to knit together. 


Reality was beginning to set in for him. 

The man before him, shrouded in the guise of a mortality, could not be a mortal. There was no human capable of stirring such turmoil, he was certain of that. Yet, there he knelt, cloaked in colors he did not believe in. The idea of it all being a facade was blasphemous. Anger simmered like a gathering storm within him, and as his ire rose, the skies mirrored his fury. 

Above them, borders of clouds began to fray, each filament weaving into a somber quilt of ash. Distantly, where the sky met the promise of the horizon, a low rumble of thunder whispered.

He did not know what this was, but he did not like it. 

*"Me? What have I done to deserve such an honor, my lord?"* 

Those words, however innocent, were a spark to Zeus's fury. Perhaps it was a timbre of deceit in his tone, or the suspicion which already clouded Zeus's judgement. Regardless, time for mere observation had passed; he would no longer be a silent spectator to this charade. 

Abruptly, he dropped to one knee. His heart, ablaze with anger, thundered in his chest. He leaned forward with intent, his eyes narrowed into slits. His gaze was piercing, begging to cut through the shadows cast by the cloak. There, he searched for what he did not know. His pupils darkened, and when he spoke his voice cut through the silence with the sharpness of a blade. 

"Who the hell are you?" 

Zeus spoke with gritted teeth and wild eyes. Here, in his realm, disrespect was poison, and he had tasted its bitter taint.
Eleanor
Despite all of his efforts to remain under the radar, Zeus had somehow picked Conner out of the crowd. He was wearing the same robe as everyone else, carried himself in the same fashion, copied the same movements, and even groveled before the god they worshiped, but none of it seemed to matter. Zeus still stood in front of him with eyes of wildfires sprung from lightening strikes. Studying him. Questioning him without words. Was it a coincidence or did he know something? Sense something? 

Recognize his long lost son? 

He didn't dare to look up again, his blue eyes shackled to the floor but threatening to break free of their chains to meet the threat head on. He didn't need to look in order to *Feel* The air between them - thick with tension, warm with static. And there was something else between them, something unfamiliar but *Strong* In a way that Conner couldn't quite comprehend. He thought it was nerves, at first, but the feeling in his gut stretched throughout his entire body - as if Zeus's very presence caused a chain reaction. 

There was no time to process the feeling. Distant thunder drew his attention to the sky which darkened into a gray prison. Zeus's voice, which had been casual in its introduction, twisted to match the low, but angry rumbling in the sky. Conner's heart felt a surge of panic, but his body remained still. His fists clenched, hidden under his cloak. How did Zeus *Know?* He had been so careful . . .

He knew he was in trouble if he remained there for too long, but a big exit wasn't ideal. He needed something subtle, something that wasn't obviously coming from him. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he could only think of one option that would be least destructive to himself and to the people around him. 

And, if he was lucky, not particularly obvious it was him. 

He released his blight, but rather than do it in one burst of energy that could have knocked most of the mortals around him off of their feet with a severe sickness, he released it slowly. It moved through the air in gentle waves, infecting the crowd around him with various sicknesses. At such a low intensity, he would be surprised if Zeus felt any effect, but the humans around him would quickly begin to feel nauseous, turn pale, and waver on their feet. 

"My lord, I did not mean to upset you," He said, his voice steady despite the beating of his heart. "My name is Con— . . ." 

The first true victim was one standing over by a statue of Ganymede in the corner; the man hunched over and puked onto the marble carving of the lesser god, drenching it. Immediately, attention was drawn to the incident - the timing perfect because a second worshiper was emptying the contents of their stomach at the base of one of the towering columns. 

The mixture of nausea from his blight and witnessing others puke set off a domino effect that had the entire crowd getting sick all over the floor. Even Conner, who was unaffected, looked pale, but it was more from his nerves in the moment than anything else.