Olympus [Romans - Winter Solstice 2015]

ooc: Welcome to the Winter Solstice 2015 visit!

Please refrain from playing any of the gods; only the admins will be able to do so. Every so often the topic will be locked to allow us to respond in an organized manner. (There is no limit to how many characters you can bring, but try not to swamp us with people.)

You will have one extra topic slot per character you use here.

Please only use ROMAN characters here.

Leandra wasn't sure about coming to Olympus this time, but she felt she did need to talk to her mother. It was difficult to think about, to face, that she was having problems with Angerona's area of expertise, despair. She wanted relief, or advice, solutions that didn't come from teenagers.

Dressed in her standard Legion T-shirt and some blue jeans, Leandra didn't look like she had put much effort into looking good before coming. For some reason, maybe the northern god was on strike, but if was T-shirt weather in New York, so she hadn't even brought a jacket.

The small Roman walked up to the throne area, looking for her mother.

Spencer was really nervous. Her legs felt like marshmallow sticks filled with warm, slimy caramel. Her heart was racing and sweat trickled down her forehead. Yes, sweat. She could run a mile without even getting damp but the thought of actually going to Mount Olympus almost made her throw up.

She had dressed up as nicely as she could with the budget she had: purple sweater, white pants, boots, olive camo parka and backpack. Her cornrows were twisted up into a bun and she had a golden ring on her hand that her father had given her for her birthday. That was the only piece of jewelry she had, as she very rarely wore anything else than neon athlete bracelets. She trained too much to actually have the time to wear pretty glittery uncomfortable stuff.

Now she was here. This was it. Olympus. Hall of gods.

The looming silver doors were already opened and mouth-watering aromas came from inside: Christmas cake, eggnog, muffins. She heard conversations and laughter. Feeling her heart skip a few beats, she walked in.

The inside was even more breathtaking than the outside. Shining frescoes covered the wall in the style of the lavish Pompeian villas. Painted columns rose to meet a ceiling made of glittering mosaics. Braziers spread a cosy warmth and soon Spencer had to shrug out of her parka.

She tried to keep her head bowed in respect but she also needed to keep an eye out for Fortuna and Victoria. She was trying to find Fortuna first, since she was her mother, but then she saw a woman dressed in an expensive purple toga, two wings sprouting from her back, sitting on a throne of gold. A wreath of laurel sat on her hair. Could it be...? Spencer approached her slowly, the aura of power emanating from the goddess giving her goosebumps. Trying not to stutter, the otherwise so confident girl said: "..Victoria?"

Zargothrax wrote:Leandra wasn't sure about coming to Olympus this time, but she felt she did need to talk to her mother. It was difficult to think about, to face, that she was having problems with Angerona's area of expertise, despair. She wanted relief, or advice, solutions that didn't come from teenagers.

Dressed in her standard Legion T-shirt and some blue jeans, Leandra didn't look like she had put much effort into looking good before coming. For some reason, maybe the northern god was on strike, but if was T-shirt weather in New York, so she hadn't even brought a jacket.

The small Roman walked up to the throne area, looking for her mother.

Angerona exhaled deeply through her nose, wondering how long the solstice visits would drag on this time -- hopefully not as long as the summer solstice visit. She had so few children that only about two or three had approached her last time she had come, urged on this morning by Vesta to at least come for their sake -- and the fact that Jupiter and Juno would have her head if she didn't come. (Frankly, they were both hypocrites, preaching about happy families and how much they respected these familial ties when they were usually at each other's throats for something.)

Dressed in a light blue sundress ("To be casual!" Venus had declared to the gods during their pre-solstice meeting, even though half of them hadn't listened and still come along in togas and all), dark hair neatly combed, she didn't look as impressive and wasn't as popular or imposing as many of her fellow gods: there were Venus and Cupid over to her right looking as radiant as always, Bellona glowering in her corner surrounding by gaggles of her children and legacies and admirers as she polished one of her many swords, Jupiter and Juno regally surveying the proceedings from their thrones, Discordia giggling as she briskly made her way back to her throne from a snack table.

Eyes scanning the crowds for familiar faces, she noted a familiar face walking into the throne area: one of her daughters, Leandra, dressed in one of those purple camp t-shirts and looking mightily underdressed for the weather that was supposed to be cold but not really. Thanks, global warming.

"Ah, Leandra? So nice to see you again." The goddess didn't speak, but she certainly could do a bit of telepathy to communicate -- simply to talk, but never to read. Minerva liked to tease her, calling her Charles Xavier -- despite the fact that Angerona had no idea who that was. "I'm near Venus and Cupid, if you can see me by their crowds of admirers."

Morgan Landry wrote:Spencer was really nervous. Her legs felt like marshmallow sticks filled with warm, slimy caramel. Her heart was racing and sweat trickled down her forehead. Yes, sweat. She could run a mile without even getting damp but the thought of actually going to Mount Olympus almost made her throw up.

She had dressed up as nicely as she could with the budget she had: purple sweater, white pants, boots, olive camo parka and backpack. Her cornrows were twisted up into a bun and she had a golden ring on her hand that her father had given her for her birthday. That was the only piece of jewelry she had, as she very rarely wore anything else than neon athlete bracelets. She trained too much to actually have the time to wear pretty glittery uncomfortable stuff.

Now she was here. This was it. Olympus. Hall of gods.

The looming silver doors were already opened and mouth-watering aromas came from inside: Christmas cake, eggnog, muffins. She heard conversations and laughter. Feeling her heart skip a few beats, she walked in.

The inside was even more breathtaking than the outside. Shining frescoes covered the wall in the style of the lavish Pompeian villas. Painted columns rose to meet a ceiling made of glittering mosaics. Braziers spread a cosy warmth and soon Spencer had to shrug out of her parka.

She tried to keep her head bowed in respect but she also needed to keep an eye out for Fortuna and Victoria. She was trying to find Fortuna first, since she was her mother, but then she saw a woman dressed in an expensive purple toga, two wings sprouting from her back, sitting on a throne of gold. A wreath of laurel sat on her hair. Could it be...? Spencer approached her slowly, the aura of power emanating from the goddess giving her goosebumps. Trying not to stutter, the otherwise so confident girl said: "..Victoria?"

The goddess of victory looked down at the girl, almost indifferently for a fleeting moment -- it took her a second to recall that the girl definitely wasn't one of her own children, but one of her legacies... which unfortunately meant she couldn't immediately remember her name. It wasn't as if she prioritized her demigod children over her descendants, but she had less children than she did legacies nowadays and certainly could spend more time looking over them than the diluted pockets of her bloodline in many people around the world.

But she did recall her name within the moment: Spencer, the daughter of one of her own sons with one of Victoria's own friends Fortuna, looking rather meek as she approached Victoria on her throne. Perhaps it was the setting that made her uncomfortable: certainly, the grandeur of Olympus was a sight to behold, and the gods were hardly lacking in power and size to any of the mortals they allowed into their kingdom. Spencer had either not gone to Olympus before -- or just hadn't come to see the goddess while she was here -- or, as was common, was still in awe of the Olympian city compared to New Rome and the neighboring camp.

With a nod and slight smile, Victoria acknowledged her: "Yes, it is I. Welcome to Olympus, Spencer -- what a pleasant surprise this... abnormally warm day. How have you and your father been? I do believe your mother was lurking around the snack table arguing with Discordia, if you need a hint to find her; I'm sure she might want to peek in on you too."

Spencer looked up with wide eyes. She knew her name, she knew her father, and she knew that Fortuna was her mother.

"Uh..oh..mm...Thank you, Victoria -- may I call you that?" Despite what the campers had said, it still felt very informal. "I first would like to talk with you if that's okay. You're my idol. Ever since I learned about me being your granddaughter, I have always honoured you. I trained everyday as much as I could. I have never worn Adidas again. I've participated in loads of competitions: races, hurdles, jumping, general athletics... My father taught me a lot."

Morgan Landry wrote:Spencer looked up with wide eyes. She knew her name, she knew her father, and she knew that Fortuna was her mother.

"Uh..oh..mm...Thank you, Victoria -- may I call you that?" Despite what the campers had said, it still felt very informal. "I first would like to talk with you if that's okay. You're my idol. Ever since I learned about me being your granddaughter, I have always honoured you. I trained everyday as much as I could. I have never worn Adidas again. I've participated in loads of competitions: races, hurdles, jumping, general athletics... My father taught me a lot."

Stuttering all over the place, this one. But Victoria was rather flattered by what she was saying, since the girl did seem sincere in what she felt. "Call me Victoria, yes. Let's be a bit less formal than usual, shall we? Solstice visits are meant for family bonding... whatever Juno means by that."

The goddess paused and reached up to readjust the laurels crowning her head; they were a tad larger than her usual set, slipping down her forehead a bit as she tried to look regal on her throne. Damned Discordia, always messing with her belongings. Why the goddess of chaos hadn't been thrown off Olympus Victoria had no idea, but if nobody else would do it, then who was she to shun that responsibility? "Ah, well, you tell your father he's done well with you. I haven't seen him in years -- or really checked up on him, but he's a responsible one. I suspected he would be able to adapt well to the mortal world after leaving the camp. What types of competitions do you like best -- or do you also participate in nonathletic ones?"

Leandra heard Angerona in her mind, telling her where she was. She took a deep breath and headed over towards Venus and Cupid's crowd. There she saw her mother in a light blue sundress. She actually looked rather nice, although she seemed slightly uncomfortable in the dress. Last summer it had been jeans, much like what Leandra was wearing now. That seemed to suit Angerona more.

"Hello, mother. It's nice to see you again." Leandra said, going to one knee and bowing her head in respect. "I, uh, um, I came... I came to ask you for advice. Or help. Or...something." She said, her cheeks flushing to a darker color. She wasn't sure what she was suppose to say. She had several thoughts, but they all sounded stupid in her head. How was she suppose to say it where it made sense?

Zargothrax wrote:Leandra heard Angerona in her mind, telling her where she was. She took a deep breath and headed over towards Venus and Cupid's crowd. There she saw her mother in a light blue sundress. She actually looked rather nice, although she seemed slightly uncomfortable in the dress. Last summer it had been jeans, much like what Leandra was wearing now. That seemed to suit Angerona more.

"Hello, mother. It's nice to see you again." Leandra said, going to one knee and bowing her head in respect. "I, uh, um, I came... I came to ask you for advice. Or help. Or...something." She said, her cheeks flushing to a darker color. She wasn't sure what she was suppose to say. She had several thoughts, but they all sounded stupid in her head. How was she suppose to say it where it made sense?

"You look well, Leandra ; I hope you've been feeling well. Stand, my child -- ask me anything you'd like, and I hope I can give you a sufficient, honest answer." Perhaps they'd be questions along the lines of last solstice's round, when Leandra had asked her for help in dealing with the curse of Angerona's realms of power, which she had unfortunately passed on to the poor girl when she had been born. It always filled the goddess' heart with regret that some of her children should suffer so, but she could never fully comfort them nor rescind what they had inherited from her. All she could do was sit and watch while they either crumbled or built themselves up with what willpower they could muster.

"Have you ever experienced terror? Soul crushing frifht and despair?" Leandra asked, as she stood. She didn't really look up, not wanting to make eye contact given the conversation. "I, I experienced a near death event, involving a hellhound, I had already feared them quite a bit. Now, I can't stop being on edge, paranoid, afraid, depressed, anxious. I can't...I can't be a good Roman in this state, always expecting the next attack. And...I don't know what to do. We're not adults with a lifetime of experience to give advice. I need someone who does have advice and wisdom on despair."

Chow had been modernized since the last visit to Olympus. The Native American demigod slowly made his way toward Neptune, his father. He was wearing a simple baby blue sweatshirt, gray jeans, and black boots. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail. "Hello, father. It is nice to see you again." He bowed his head before straightening back up. Chow pulled out a painted seashell from his back pocket and offered it to the god of the sea. It was painted with the colors of his tribe.

Tanzania was dressed in a sweater that was purple across the shoulders and white the rest of the way down with black jeans and her knee high boots. The daughter of Bellona looked to see her mother. Smiling, she made her way over to her. "Salve, mother." She moved a few strands of straightened hair out her face.

Gunther popped a peppermint into his mouth before making his way to the goddess of truth. "Hallo." He waved a bit, having his usual black beanie on his head along with a gray sweater, black jeans, and black shoes. "How are you enjoying the winter solstice?"

"Honestly, any competition is good for me as long as it's sportive. I never turn down a challenge. I'm best on the race track and hurdles, but this one time a kid in my class dared me to climb up on the roof of our school, so I did it." She looked down at her boots and added in a quicker voice: "Got in trouble for it though, but it simply got the better of me. I just can't turn down a challenge."

Zargothrax wrote:"Have you ever experienced terror? Soul crushing frifht and despair?" Leandra asked, as she stood. She didn't really look up, not wanting to make eye contact given the conversation. "I, I experienced a near death event, involving a hellhound, I had already feared them quite a bit. Now, I can't stop being on edge, paranoid, afraid, depressed, anxious. I can't...I can't be a good Roman in this state, always expecting the next attack. And...I don't know what to do. We're not adults with a lifetime of experience to give advice. I need someone who does have advice and wisdom on despair."

Fright? As a goddess, very few things could rival Angerona's power -- except other, more powerful gods and monsters many of them thought had been hidden away in the depths of the earth. And even then, she couldn't really despair because she knew in the end she'd usually make it out just fine.

Lying to her daughter, though, would probably not be the best route to take. "Though I can't say I have, my dear, you must realize first that even the best of the Legion have had feelings like this -- to varying degrees, internally or externally, but they've all experienced it. Fear is a strange creature indeed. I will not lie to you and say there is nothing to fear -- being a demigod means such perils are almost always lurking around the next corner, and you must be prepared for such. But you are a Roman, I know you can endure as many of your brethren have in centuries past. A pause as Angerona tried to think of something more to say that didn't sound extremely preach-y. "Tell me -- have you seen or met any hellhounds since your incident? I know little of how mortals deal with such trauma, but sometimes confronting the problem -- in a controlled environment -- may aid you. Pardon my ignorance if such a thing happened and failed already; the ways gods treat their own trauma vastly differs from the mortal ways."

Zoopathic wrote:Chow had been modernized since the last visit to Olympus. The Native American demigod slowly made his way toward Neptune, his father. He was wearing a simple baby blue sweatshirt, gray jeans, and black boots. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail.  "Hello, father. It is nice to see you again." He bowed his head before straightening back up. Chow pulled out a painted seashell from his back pocket and offered it to the god of the sea. It was painted with the colors of his tribe.

Tanzania was dressed in a sweater that was purple across the shoulders and white the rest of the way down with black jeans and her knee high boots. The daughter of Bellona looked to see her mother. Smiling, she made her way over to her. "Salve, mother." She moved a few strands of straightened hair out her face.

Gunther popped a peppermint into his mouth before making his way to the goddess of truth. "Hallo." He waved a bit, having his usual black beanie on his head along with a gray sweater, black jeans, and black shoes. "How are you enjoying the winter solstice?"

"Oh, this is nice of you." Neptune took the shell, appraising its colors and shape -- he was very familiar with the species that would normally form this type, but for the moment he couldn't exactly recall anything more than the genus. Normally he could recall them just fine, but he had a lot on his mind at the moment. Slowly, he lowered it into the clear, cold water of the fountain he sat near, watching it sink to the bottom -- to keep it safe, in case it broke in his bag by the time the solstice was over. "Very nice to see you again, Chow -- has camp been treating you well? I see you're getting along better in the modern era than last time I saw you."

------------

Bellona, regal as always in her armor, nodded in acknowledgement at her daughter. She had already spoken to several of her children and descendants, who all seemed to be doing well at camp or in their general lives outside of the Legion -- as she expected. This one was probably the same case. "Hello, my child. I see you're doing well now, if you've managed to come at all. Tell me, how have you been faring? At training or in general, either direction is fine."

---------------

Veritas, holding a steaming cup of chamomile tea Vesta had just given her, smiled at her son from where she sat on her throne. It had been ages since anyone had talked to her this solstice -- the last time was almost two hours ago, when one of her grandchildren had come up to nervously speak to her. "Nice to see you again, Gunther. This solstice has been unseasonable warm, but I'm still enjoying it. How has camp been to you?"

Morgan Landry wrote:"Honestly, any competition is good for me as long as it's sportive. I never turn down a challenge. I'm best on the race track and hurdles, but this one time a kid in my class dared me to climb up on the roof of our school, so I did it." She looked down at her boots and added in a quicker voice: "Got in trouble for it though, but it simply got the better of me. I just can't turn down a challenge."

Victoria raised an eyebrow at her, wondering briefly if Spencer were just a bit more rash than she'd expected. It was a common trait for her descendants to be competitive, but sometimes she wondered just how strong that was; it certainly hadn't diluted itself in her granddaughter, which might be a rather... bad thing. "I'd warn you to be more careful, dear, since some challenges may be too dangerous -- but as long as you know you were in the wrong, I'm sure you'll grow out of it someday. Many of my descendants do -- and those who don't, to be blunt, often end up in rather unsavory positions. Natural selection at work, some might say."

Spencer was surprised. From the tales she had heard, Victoria wasn't one to encourage moderation and good behaviour. She had expected support, not warnings.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me for asking, your Maj... er, Victoria, but doesn't greatness come from overcoming challenges?"

Morgan Landry wrote:Spencer was surprised. From the tales she had heard, Victoria wasn't one to encourage moderation and good behaviour. She had expected support, not warnings.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me for asking, your Maj... er, Victoria, but doesn't greatness come from overcoming challenges?"

The goddess smiled at her, almost coldly. Oh, the girl was still so young -- could she fault her for being so rash and naive? Centuries of watching her favorites fall had probably warped Victoria's own mindset, but that was no excuse to let Spencer go without fair warning. "At the most basic level, sure. But tell me -- do you know what it's like to see your own children, your family, even just your favorites in general, falling like flies to such challenges -- athletic or no -- for centuries when many times these were all avoidable incidents? And how little of their success stories survive after their falls, in favor of the stupid error they made to make their names be passed on as a warning rather than some symbol of success and glory: promising lives extinguished because they didn't know to stop and think even a little. Pick your battles wisely; I say this out of love, not because my mind's been addled from old age. Greatness can come from overcoming challenges -- but doing what's impossible for you, or almost out of your realm of skill and at obvious unnecessary risk, does not usually end well; luck will not always carry you to victory. Your mother's been caused plenty of grief already, don't make her fret more."

Victoria paused to sigh, reaching up to adjust her laurels again. Mortals and their inevitable fates as dead souls in the Underworld were such draining things to think about. "You don't even need to guarantee to yourself that you know exactly how and what you're doing --  but weigh the pros and cons and possibilities. It'll go a long way. There is a difference between having your name passed down in glory versus your name passed down in notoriety; you don't need to pursue and succeed at every challenge life throws at you to be great. You can 'lose' humbly and learn -- but not if you're dead."

Kendall wrote:
Fright? As a goddess, very few things could rival Angerona's power -- except other, more powerful gods and monsters many of them thought had been hidden away in the depths of the earth. And even then, she couldn't really despair because she knew in the end she'd usually make it out just fine.

Lying to her daughter, though, would probably not be the best route to take. "Though I can't say I have, my dear, you must realize first that even the best of the Legion have had feelings like this -- to varying degrees, internally or externally, but they've all experienced it. Fear is a strange creature indeed. I will not lie to you and say there is nothing to fear -- being a demigod means such perils are almost always lurking around the next corner, and you must be prepared for such. But you are a Roman, I know you can endure as many of your brethren have in centuries past. A pause as Angerona tried to think of something more to say that didn't sound extremely preach-y. "Tell me -- have you seen or met any hellhounds since your incident? I know little of how mortals deal with such trauma, but sometimes confronting the problem -- in a controlled environment -- may aid you. Pardon my ignorance if such a thing happened and failed already; the ways gods treat their own trauma vastly differs from the mortal ways."

Leandra sighed and her shoulders slumped a little at her mother's words. "I tried once, with a mistiform hellhound. It...it couldn't hurt me. It didn't hurt me, but I made a fool of myself. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't fight. I was just....I was terrified. I kept seeing everything that had happened before. I felt it all. I...it's... Mom...I just... I know that demigods are in danger every day. I know that many demigods have survived, but how many more have died? Gruesomely? Or been permanently maimed and useless? I..." She paused, unable to think of what exactly to say. She felt kind of deflated that not even her mother, the goddess of relieving men's despair, had a good, easier answer. "I don't know what to do."

Spencer didn't really like that talk, she had expected something more...galvanizing from the goddess of Victory. To her, there was no 'lose humbly and learn'. There was only winning. All else was humiliation.

Still, she gave a courteous bow. "Thank you, I will consider what you said." When she turned around, she closed her eyes. Wow. That had not gone as expected and part of her wanted to crawl into a tiny hole and hide forever.
But she couldn't. She had to meet her mother. Where was she? A minute ago she had been there!

Zargothrax wrote:
Leandra sighed and her shoulders slumped a little at her mother's words. "I tried once, with a mistiform hellhound. It...it couldn't hurt me. It didn't hurt me, but I made a fool of myself. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't fight. I was just....I was terrified. I kept seeing everything that had happened before. I felt it all. I...it's... Mom...I just... I know that demigods are in danger every day. I know that many demigods have survived, but how many more have died? Gruesomely? Or been permanently maimed and useless? I..." She paused, unable to think of what exactly to say. She felt kind of deflated that not even her mother, the goddess of relieving men's despair, had a good, easier answer. "I don't know what to do."

Angerona sat on her throne, looking pensive as she rapidly ran through lists of suggestions for her daughter -- but none which she could confidently say would help. She couldn't just lightly tap her on the forehead and dispel all her fears that instant no matter how easy that would make it. Her daughter must learn to cope herself, but at the very least she could lead her on the right path.

"Did you just start with the Mistform? the goddess asked her softly. "You cannot just start exactly with the thing you fear. For such a type of therapy, you should work your way from something similar to it that you know as harmless -- such as a regular shaggy black dog -- and perhaps increase in size and frequency your exposure to such things until you can confront at least the Mistform. Tell me, what do you do to calm yourself after you have such reactions? Do you just wait it out? Meditate? Have you talked to someone else about this before me, about all your fears and anxiety relating to this incident?"

Morgan Landry wrote:Spencer didn't really like that talk, she had expected something more...galvanizing from the goddess of Victory. To her, there was no 'lose humbly and learn'. There was only winning. All else was humiliation.

Still, she gave a courteous bow. "Thank you, I will consider what you said." When she turned around, she closed her eyes. Wow. That had not gone as expected and part of her wanted to crawl into a tiny hole and hide forever.
But she couldn't. She had to meet her mother. Where was she? A minute ago she had been there!

Victoria nodded sagely, watching Spencer leave. She had a feeling that she really wouldn't.

Fortuna had been lurking a bit farther away from the goddess of victory, having had her fill of snacks at one of the long tables set up along the walls of the throne room. With a cup of apple cider in her hand, she had made her way to speak to Discordia, whose throne was several yards away from Fortuna's own, on matters clearly very important to their hearts.

"So what if I threw an apple 'For the Most Beautiful' into a Miss Universe competition?" Discordia wondered aloud to Fortuna, examining a ripe red apple in her hand for any imperfections before she'd take a bite. "Would they actually go for it, or would they be too busy posing and acting enlightened for the cameras and judges?"

Fortuna really didn't know how to respond. "I suppose a bit of both? It'd be tempting, but they're not goddesses, you see. They may be a bit less vain than that. If you were talking about a lottery or such, that would certainly be in my realm--"

"We could use your powers to win the lottery ten times straight," cackled the other goddess. "Wouldn't that be fun?"

"Er...." Fortuna was looking around for something -- or someone to extricate herself from the situation... and spotted Spencer, looking a bit confused as she turned away from regal Victoria. "Oh! My dear -- Spencer -- my child -- is that you?"

Spencer gave a start. It was a tall black woman dressed in an expensive-looking vanilla ensemble, her hair falling down her back in glossy curls. Golden eyeliner gleamed on her lids and lipstick made her mouth look dark and velvety. She looked like someone you'd see on TV, a host of some kind of show.

She said, 'my child'.

Spencer noticed her skin colour, how dark it was, like coffee beans. Exactly like hers.

"...Mom?" she whispered.

Kendall wrote:

Angerona sat on her throne, looking pensive as she rapidly ran through lists of suggestions for her daughter -- but none which she could confidently say would help. She couldn't just lightly tap her on the forehead and dispel all her fears that instant no matter how easy that would make it. Her daughter must learn to cope herself, but at the very least she could lead her on the right path.

"Did you just start with the Mistform? the goddess asked her softly. "You cannot just start exactly with the thing you fear. For such a type of therapy, you should work your way from something similar to it that you know as harmless -- such as a regular shaggy black dog -- and perhaps increase in size and frequency your exposure to such things until you can confront at least the Mistform. Tell me, what do you do to calm yourself after you have such reactions? Do you just wait it out? Meditate? Have you talked to someone else about this before me, about all your fears and anxiety relating to this incident?"

Leandra blushed, not looking up. She hugged herself defensively, trying to figure out how to say what she wanted to her mother. "I started with the mistiform. After talking to Tib. Tib's always been there. She's the smartest person I know, she always knows what to do. She's the model Roman legionnaire. And she's also by superior. I talked to her...at your shrine." Leandra paused, then scooted back a little. "I also threw an orange at your shrine..." She mumbled, remembering the night clearly in her mind. She had been so angry, because being angry was easier than being afraid. She had cried in Tiberia's arms and talked about the fear and the feelings of being overwhelmed. The feelings of inadequacy. The desire to avoid everything. She had sobbed until she couldn't anymore, and her best friend had held her. And then told her she needed to deal with it. Like it was easy. Like that was an answer. "She told me to use the mistiforms. Be exposed. That it couldn't hurt me. I don't know how to calm down afterwards. I just...I wait. In fear. I don't... they don't teach this sort of thing in Legion training... They teach you to take the fear and bottle it up and not worry about it, and sometimes that doesn't work anymore."

Morgan Landry wrote:Spencer gave a start. It was a tall black woman dressed in an expensive-looking vanilla ensemble, her hair falling down her back in glossy curls. Golden eyeliner gleamed on her lids and lipstick made her mouth look dark and velvety. She looked like someone you'd see on TV, a host of some kind of show.

She said, 'my child'.

Spencer noticed her skin colour, how dark it was, like coffee beans. Exactly like hers.

"...Mom?" she whispered.

Fortuna couldn't really hear what Spencer had said over the noise of the many conversations currently happening around and between them, but she still beckoned her child forward as Discordia watched, almost disinterestedly as she bit into her apple with a satisfying crunch and then chewing.

"Your kid?" the other goddess asked, taking another bite.

"Oh, yes. I'd forgotten she was here, even though I saw her ten minutes or so ago -- she found Victoria, her grandmother, first."

Discordia giggled, wiping a bit of apple juice off her lips with a light blue snowflake napkin Vesta had supplied the snack tables with. "Aah, that prat. Always so high and mighty and overly-competitive, like those boys in a high school gym class who can't calm down playing dodge-ball or something."

Fortuna frowned at her friend, wondering where in the world she had possibly found such a connection between dear, regal Victoria and sweaty boys in a mortal gym class. She couldn't even recall what dodge-ball even was... although the name sounded a bit revealing. "And... I suppose you watch mortals play games in their classes often?"

"Don't you? They play to win."

Zargothrax wrote:
Leandra blushed, not looking up. She hugged herself defensively, trying to figure out how to say what she wanted to her mother. "I started with the mistiform. After talking to Tib. Tib's always been there. She's the smartest person I know, she always knows what to do. She's the model Roman legionnaire. And she's also my superior. I talked to her...at your shrine." Leandra paused, then scooted back a little. "I also threw an orange at your shrine..." She mumbled, remembering the night clearly in her mind. She had been so angry, because being angry was easier than being afraid. She had cried in Tiberia's arms and talked about the fear and the feelings of being overwhelmed. The feelings of inadequacy. The desire to avoid everything. She had sobbed until she couldn't anymore, and her best friend had held her. And then told her she needed to deal with it. Like it was easy. Like that was an answer. "She told me to use the mistiforms. Be exposed. That it couldn't hurt me. I don't know how to calm down afterwards. I just...I wait. In fear. I don't... they don't teach this sort of thing in Legion training... They teach you to take the fear and bottle it up and not worry about it, and sometimes that doesn't work anymore."

Aah, yes. Angerona could remember the sudden twinge of anger she had suddenly felt one day, only to check in on her shrine -- to see an orange splattered across it, and her daughter looking extremely... angry? Sad? She couldn't tell at the time, but she also had to shut off the magic mirror she used to check in on her children in order to attend to her other duties before she could see any more context; at the very least, she knew she could have at least asked Leandra at solstice or such, rather than strike her down immediately. "I'm sure your friend meant well... but going to the extreme on your first try was clearly too much, and probably one of the worse ideas you could try -- exposure therapy works gradually, not suddenly. Work up from something basic, which you yourself choose: black puppies, stuffed animals, whatever. Mistforms are a nice resource, but shouldn't be the first thing you turn to.

Clearing her throat and adjusting the strap of her dress a bit, the goddess of silence wondered whether or not she should be annoyed at this Tiberia girl and her daughter's admiration of her -- model Roman, always knowing what to do? Roman or not, sending her daughter straight to Mistform hellhounds was a terrible, poorly thought-out idea. Sometimes people thought too much of what a Roman should do, rather than what a good, smart person should. "Legion training -- bah. I told Bellona and Mars and the other war gods that they should emphasize what to do for treating trauma and calming oneself in their training, long ago in the golden days... but of course, showing even a bit of weakness seems unthinkable to them. You forget that lesson about bottling up emotions, my child, it's not even worth the dirt on the underside of my shoe. Use meditation, breathing exercises, have someone with you to talk you through an anxiety attack and point out you're safe and nothing will happen, discuss with someone close to you why you fear them, and so on. Start small, and then fan out from there."

Kendall wrote:
Aah, yes. Angerona could remember the sudden twinge of anger she had suddenly felt one day, only to check in on her shrine -- to see an orange splattered across it, and her daughter looking extremely... angry? Sad? She couldn't tell at the time, but she also had to shut off the magic mirror she used to check in on her children in order to attend to her other duties before she could see any more context; at the very least, she knew she could have at least asked Leandra at solstice or such, rather than strike her down immediately. "I'm sure your friend meant well... but going to the extreme on your first try was clearly too much, and probably one of the worse ideas you could try -- exposure therapy works gradually, not suddenly. Work up from something basic, which you yourself choose: black puppies, stuffed animals, whatever. Mistforms are a nice resource, but shouldn't be the first thing you turn to.

Clearing her throat and adjusting the strap of her dress a bit, the goddess of silence wondered whether or not she should be annoyed at this Tiberia girl and her daughter's admiration of her -- model Roman, always knowing what to do? Roman or not, sending her daughter straight to Mistform hellhounds was a terrible, poorly thought-out idea. Sometimes people thought too much of what a Roman should do, rather than what a good, smart person should. "Legion training -- bah. I told Bellona and Mars and the other war gods that they should emphasize what to do for treating trauma and calming oneself in their training, long ago in the golden days... but of course, showing even a bit of weakness seems unthinkable to them. You forget that lesson about bottling up emotions, my child, it's not even worth the dirt on the underside of my shoe. Use meditation, breathing exercises, have someone with you to talk you through an anxiety attack and point out you're safe and nothing will happen, discuss with someone close to you why you fear them, and so on. Start small, and then fan out from there."

Leandra looked up a little, surprised to hear that from her mother. Granted, her mother was about relieving despair, but she was also a protector of Rome. She had always thought of her mother as being all for the Legion way of life. It sounded so strange, and it also rocked the foundations of her thoughts. That Legion training wasn't always the best. Something that she had convinced herself, to keep herself sane. "Stuffed animals? Dogs don't tend to like me...animals don't like me." She said, instead of what she was actually thinking. She wasn't sure she knew how to talk to people about her feelings as much. "Do you ever talk about your feelings? Is that something you've ever had to do? I, uh, it just... you'd think silence...you'd be for silence. I don't know, I just, I never expected...I never expected this answer."

Zargothrax wrote:
Leandra looked up a little, surprised to hear that from her mother. Granted, her mother was about relieving despair, but she was also a protector of Rome. She had always thought of her mother as being all for the Legion way of life. It sounded so strange, and it also rocked the foundations of her thoughts. That Legion training wasn't always the best. Something that she had convinced herself, to keep herself sane. "Stuffed animals? Dogs don't tend to like me...animals don't like me." She said, instead of what she was actually thinking. She wasn't sure she knew how to talk to people about her feelings as much. "Do you ever talk about your feelings? Is that something you've ever had to do? I, uh, it just... you'd think silence...you'd be for silence. I don't know, I just, I never expected...I never expected this answer."

"Talk? Well, bottling things up is usually not a healthy solution -- rarely is, in my opinion. It's ironic I suppose, owing to my own realms of power, but venting to close friends or relatives is much more comforting than I normally like to think -- and should probably be more comfortable with. Even for small things I'd consider that useful, since it lets you have a second -- and hopefully understanding -- viewpoint, and it also builds trust." Angerona watched her daughter's face carefully, looking for any other reactions: it had seemed Leandra had been surprised by what she had suggested, or maybe even the very fact that the goddess had willingly told her to flout age-old lessons allegedly perfected by generations of Romans. She didn't know exactly what they were teaching the children there, but she did know they certainly weren't giving much leeway for change or questioning -- such was the power of superiors sometimes, in such a strict and militaristic culture.

"But back to you. Yes, start with stuffed animals if you must -- work up slowly and carefully. Find a trained black dog for you to interact with, someone to help you handle them, and so on. I'm not sure of your own experience with animals in general, but you don't necessarily need to make them like you; you just need to be able to be around them."

"Talk? Well, bottling things up is usually not a healthy solution -- rarely is, in my opinion. It's ironic I suppose, owing to my own realms of power, but venting to close friends or relatives is much more comforting than I normally like to think -- and should probably be more comfortable with. Even for small things I'd consider that useful, since it lets you have a second -- and hopefully understanding -- viewpoint, and it also builds trust." Angerona watched her daughter's face carefully, looking for any other reactions: it had seemed Leandra had been surprised by what she had suggested, or maybe even the very fact that the goddess had willingly told her to flout age-old lessons allegedly perfected by generations of Romans. She didn't know exactly what they were teaching the children there, but she did know they certainly weren't giving much leeway for change or questioning -- such was the power of superiors sometimes, in such a strict and militaristic culture.

"But back to you. Yes, start with stuffed animals if you must -- work up slowly and carefully. Find a trained black dog for you to interact with, someone to help you handle them, and so on. I'm not sure of your own experience with animals in general, but you don't necessarily need to make them like you; you just need to be able to be around them."

Leandra blinked a couple of times at Angerona. She was still talking about ignoring the good Roman Lengionnaire training. It didn't make sense. If they were wrong about dealing with fear, what else were they wrong about? No. She couldn't think like that. Roman training was what kept her alive. This, this was a special case. They weren't whole-sale wrong. This was the exception.

The other thing was the exposure. Leandra wasn't sure she wanted to intentionally expose herself to something she feared. It just didn't sound good. She didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of a stuffed animal. Maybe it would work, though, she could try pictures.

Leandra took a knee for a second. "Thank you, mother, for your advice...and your honesty. I will try to heed it well. I also promise not to throw anymore fruit at your shrine."

Spencer watched the two godesses, unsure if she should say something or not. The other goddess didn't look as warm as Fortuna with her pointed face and raspy voice, she wondered who she was.

However that was secondary now. Spencer was looking at her mother, the woman she had been dying to meet ever since she was old enough to know what a mother is. All her life she had wondered what she was like, how she looked, what her voice sounds like. And now she was there. The girl could feel her eyes stinging a bit.

So, is that it? she thought, watching them talk about gym boys. No smile? No tears? No heartfelt hug? For fourteen years she had waited for this day. And now here she was, watching while Fortuna and the other goddess chatted away over her head. She felt like screaming.

Zargothrax wrote:
Leandra blinked a couple of times at Angerona. She was still talking about ignoring the good Roman Lengionnaire training. It didn't make sense. If they were wrong about dealing with fear, what else were they wrong about? No. She couldn't think like that. Roman training was what kept her alive. This, this was a special case. They weren't whole-sale wrong. This was the exception.

The other thing was the exposure. Leandra wasn't sure she wanted to intentionally expose herself to something she feared. It just didn't sound good. She didn't want to make a fool of herself in front of a stuffed animal. Maybe it would work, though, she could try pictures.

Leandra took a knee for a second. "Thank you, mother, for your advice...and your honesty. I will try to heed it well. I also promise not to throw anymore fruit at your shrine."

Angerona smiled slightly, leaning against one side of her throne in an effort to make herself a bit more comfortable -- she did have several more hours to sit here and look pretty, after all, and very little to look forward to in that time period. Maybe Minerva could loan her a book or two, she definitely didn't have any kids coming. "You're very welcome, my dear. Be careful in my shrine next time -- there's no guarantee I won't reflexively zap you to ashes. We take our shrines very seriously as you might guess, and if you weren't my daughter you'd have been dead as soon as it left your hand. I don't even like oranges. Perhaps try strawberries or cherries next time, if you must."

Morgan Landry wrote:Spencer watched the two godesses, unsure if she should say something or not. The other goddess didn't look as warm as Fortuna with her pointed face and raspy voice, she wondered who she was.

However that was secondary now. Spencer was looking at her mother, the woman she had been dying to meet ever since she was old enough to know what a mother is. All her life she had wondered what she was like, how she looked, what her voice sounds like. And now she was there. The girl could feel her eyes stinging a bit.

So, is that it? she thought, watching them talk about gym boys. No smile? No tears? No heartfelt hug? For fourteen years she had waited for this day. And now here she was, watching while Fortuna and the other goddess chatted away over her head. She felt like screaming.

"I must be going now, Dia," Fortuna told her friend, gesturing to Spencer behind her. "I've years of catching up to do now."

The goddess of chaos waved her apple at her casually, as she stood to leave the two alone: "You go ahead, I'll be over by Mercury putting firecrackers in his bag."

With a smile, the goddess of luck turned back to her daughter -- and paused when she saw that she looked slightly... apprehensive? Was that it? Fortuna was no good with reading people, although obviously she had all the luck in the world at her command and could probably accurately guess if she'd tried. "Dear me, it's been years since I last saw you -- and how beautiful you look! You've grown like a weed, maybe I should have brought something for you to eat from the snack tables -- I apologize for not immediately dropping my conversation with Discordia, but it would be unwise of me to... spurn her, of all people."

Clapping her hands, there appeared in her hands a large cornucopia, filled with an abundance of fruits and vegetables and even tiny candy canes for the occasion, which she showed to Spencer: "Take anything you'd like, if you wish. Did you eat anything before you came here? Did Victoria give you anything? There's still much time for us to speak, but I'd rather not starve you."