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font-size: 12px;">A part of him almost thinks it serves them all right. Not <i>all</i> of them, perhaps, but most of them. Hera killed his mother while he was still inside the lovely woman’s womb, and if it wasn’t for Zeus, he would have died another victim of her unnecessary and volatile wrath. But even Zeus had abandoned him to the rain nymphs on Mount Nysa. Born from fire, raised by rain; like grapes grow in the earth, as the humans said after he took dominion of them and introduced all to the sweet elixir they offered. But what did he get in return? The twice-born god, the Zeus of Nysa, who dragged his way to Olympus from Asia, and was begrudgingly accepted but forever the outsider. The only Olympian with a human mother.<br/>
<br/>
Fine. If they wanted to pretend he didn’t exist, he figured he’d become impossible to ignore. And oh, did he. Festivity, ecstasy, pleasure, madness — gifting freedom from self-consciousness and all restraints to the most outcasted of beings, traversing and subverting the boundaries set by those before him. He’d died, and he’d come back. He crossed the boundary of life and death, and he walked the line of the civilized and the uncivilized, and explored the boundary of the known and the unknown. Dionysus. Eleutherios. Dionysus, The Liberator. Dionysus, Protector of Misfits. Beloved by those who received love nowhere else, and worshiped for his research that brought such a wonderful gift to the mortals. He’d <i>earned</i> his spot, and if they don’t want to recognize that, then let them burn.<br/>
<br/>
Of course, a bigger part of him doesn’t really want that. It’s easy to throw stones when it’s all in your head, but another thing when you witness what you claimed to have wanted. Athena. Huh. He never would have expected that one. He never would have expected any of this, really. But distance allows detachment. Allows a certain objective view as he stands there in their temple of gold and marble, standing still amidst the chaos, watching this chimera tear through the historical landmarks around them. Watching it tear through <i>them</i>. He doesn’t want any of them to die, not even Hera, but he resigns himself to the thought that perhaps they all just might. That <i>he</i> just might. He’s ready for death. At least he thinks he is. Shame it has to be here and now, though. On this mountain with a group of people who’d never actually cared about him. Well… except one. But Hestia isn’t here. Dionysus had taken what was once hers and she'd left Olympus, and at least that meant that she was safe from this hellish nightmare consuming them all. As long as Hestia is safe, then there’s nothing else for him to fight for. Now is as good a time to die as any.<br/>
<br/>
He watches gods cling to each other, desperate for their lovers and companions, seeking comfort in the midst of their terror. Most assuredly thinking that if they are to die, at least they shall die together. Dionysus clutches himself, nails digging into the soft flesh of his arms, and that’s enough. It has to be enough. When did he start crying?<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">"Take human form!”</span><br/>
<br/>
A sudden light catches him unprepared as he tunes out the noise, but he has little time to process it before everything has changed, anyway.<br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#48061a"><i class="fa fa-glass-cheers"></i> <i class="fa fa-glass-cheers"></i> <i class="fa fa-glass-cheers"></i> <i class="fa fa-glass-cheers"></i></span>​</div><br/>
When the light fades, he’s in the streets of Valencia, Spain. <i>They</i> are in Valencia, given the large crowd around him. All in new bodies. All with new names. His own body looks clad in the punk gear he often wears when he comes down to visit humanity. Alois Merlow Moore is the name he chose long ago for this form, and he finds it fitting. It even includes a pun, because of course it does. It becomes apparent rather quickly as everyone settles into their new bodies that Zeus is nowhere to be found. Didn't he follow them down? Actually, it looks like several people are missing. Did Zeus mess up the teleportation? Was he even the one who teleported them? It makes the most sense, given his sudden order. What are they to do now without him? Hecate speaks up soon enough, mentioning something about temporarily removing their powers. The idea sounds ridiculous, and he can already see the pushback in the tension of his fellow gods' shoulders before any of them even begin to speak. But, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e">"I think it's a fine idea,"</span> he speaks up. When attention turns to him, he shrugs. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e">"If it's the only way to avoid being tracked, then what other choice do we have?"</span><br/>
<br/>
And so, it's agreed, and quickly, Alois finds himself nearly bowled over with sudden dizziness as his powers are stripped. What an odd sensation. He barely has time to process the fatigue settling into his bones before the sound of growling fills the air, and he turns to see a group of rabid methheads running at them. Actually, no, not methheads. They're coming at them with very inhuman movements and blood soaking their garments. Like something out of those cheesy zombie movies the humans like to indulge in.<br/>
<br/>
He has little choice but to follow the others as they all haul ass toward some semblance of safety. He notices others scampering off in their own directions, but he has no motivation to join any of them. Where would he go? He’s become somewhat known by the humans for his benevolence and had never really bothered with learning how to properly beat someone’s ass in a physical fight. If he’d wanted someone ripped apart, he could just snap his fingers, but now… he can’t feel his powers anymore. He’s helpless. Better to stay with the group.<br/>
<br/>
When did the human world get like this? It feels like he’d just been here yesterday! He’s always spent far more time with the humans than with the other gods. Had he really been away long enough to not notice a pandemic ruining them? This is not ideal.<br/>
<br/>
They run for what seems like hours to lose the now multiplied creatures hunting them, and Alois spots a large, seemingly abandoned hotel to the left. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e">”Everyone over here!</span> he shouts as loudly as he can without drawing too much attention, gesturing empathetically for people to follow him as he leads them into the building. It’s large, and extravagant, and should be a decent place to stay for now until they work out a better plan. He leads them up a few flights of stairs, just in case, until they come upon a second lobby that should have enough room to contain them all. When every last person is inside, they start dropping to the floors like flies, gasping with exertion and the remnants of their panic.<br/>
<br/>
He, himself, drops into one of the plush armchairs of the pretentiously extravagant lobby, staring up at the ceiling and generally ignoring the moaning around him. He spots Hephaestus and Jase and sighs in relief that they appear uninjured. Although that isn't synonymous with "well". And Pan —  where is he? That goatman spends more time on Earth than even he does, and last time he checked, he was still on Earth when this all went down. He hasn’t heard from him in some time… He should stop thinking about it. He doesn’t want to entertain the idea of his friend’s death. How many gods are even here? How many were brought down? Just the ones in Olympus at the time, or did the light stretch farther than that? Has that chimera turned its attention to other places? Is it coming for them? <i>Can</i> it come for them? And Hestia…?<br/>
<br/>
Alois sits up properly, frantically surveying the room as he affirms the horrible truth that he already knows — <i>she’s not here</i>. What had been a comfort before is now a nightmare at the thought that she might still be up there with those monsters. Surely now that they've destroyed Olympus, they'll turn their sights elsewhere? And she wasn't here to get her powers removed... She's somewhere out there in the danger, and he’s not there to help her. Alois claws at his throat where it’s beginning to tighten, his heart racing and stomach lurching. He needs to go. Needs to find her. He owes her that much. But he doesn’t even know where to begin, and he’s so damn tired…<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">”Al. Alois. Dio!”</span> A voice cuts through the static in his ears, and he realizes he’s begun to hyperventilate. It’s Hephaestus, or Klaudiusz now judging by his form, looking down at him with obvious concern, one of his hands rubbing soothing circles into Alois’s shoulder. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">”It’s going to be okay.”</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e">”She's still out there. Hestia. S-She's still out there, somewhere, vulnerable —"</span><br/>
<br/>
He can’t decide if he appreciates or despises the pity in the man’s eyes. So icy, despite his domain being fire. Funny how that works. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">”So is Aphro. She’s not here with us.”</span><br/>
<br/>
The statement makes Al dissolve back into the chair, ignoring the other man’s sharp gaze. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e">”You’re awfully calm. Was she one of the people that had run off by themselves?”</span><br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">”No,”</span> he says firmly, defensively, <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">”She wouldn’t leave me like that. I don’t think so, at least.”</span> Klaudiusz sighs, batting Alois’s feet to the side so he can sit on the arm of the chair, which barely gives under his small figure. Their friendship might seem surprising to some, but Alois has a habit of befriending the “odd ones out.” He still remembers their first meeting…<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e"><i>“Hey, where’d you get that limp? Looks badass!”</i></span><br/>
<br/>
And the rest was history… literally. Nothing like bonding over mutual spite.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">”We have to keep a cool head about this. Better to wait here for their return, or wait for orders from Zeus. Going off on our own would be reckless given the circumstances.”</span><br/>
<br/>
He’s right, of course. Alois knows he’s right, as much as he would love to just let his passion fuel him on a bloodlust. They have no idea the extent of the… situation out there, and he has no idea where Hestia is.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">”Get some rest, Alois.”</span><br/>
<br/>
Alois huffs, the air stirring a lock of fiery hair on his forehead. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e">”This isn’t very cash money.”</span><br/>
<br/>
Klaud laughs, breathy and humorless. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#c77272">”No. No, it isn’t. Get some rest, Alois.”</span> He feels the man’s weight lift from the chair as he limps away, and Alois falls obediently into a restless sleep.<br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#48061a"><i class="fa fa-glass-cheers"></i> <i class="fa fa-glass-cheers"></i> <i class="fa fa-glass-cheers"></i> <i class="fa fa-glass-cheers"></i></span>​</div><br/>
In the morning, he spreads out in the chair he’d been occupying last night, as though posed on a piano as he might once have been. He really wishes he had his powers so he could manifest himself a glass of wine. He’s going to have to be properly drunk to keep himself from all of the awful thoughts that are pounding his temples. He listens to the others stew in their newfound misery, observing the awkwardness and discomfort with barely concealed amusement. <span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e">“What a lively bunch we all are,”</span> he grumbles, staring up at the ceiling.<br/>
<br/>
He misses his cult. He could really go for a Shakespearean comedy right about now. If they ever get back to normal, he’s going to have to tell them to stay away from the tragedies for a while. Even if those are usually funny in their own right. But maybe a bit too on the nose now. Although he certainly wouldn’t compare this shitfest to <i>Hamlet</i>. Which, of course, is also a shitfest. Just of a different breed. It doesn’t really fit into the category of “me and all of the people I am, unfortunately, often in the proximity of were almost murdered, and now we’re stuck as humans in the middle of the apocalypse.” If he lives through this, he should turn it into a play. No, no, a musical! Move over Willy.<br/>
<br/>
<span class="fixed-color" style="color:#98003e">“Here we are in the apocalypse, and we’re not even gonna go down partying,”</span> he laments exaggeratedly, running a hand through his hair.<br/>
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