Auva's face remained a blank canvas, no note of surprise or fear painting her face. When did it ever? She honed the art of indifference to perfection, as if she sliced away the neurological sector that encompassed all feelings and emotions. She was nothing if not a void that wielded control and carelessness.
Altair on the other hand had his face painted with disbelief and questions.
How could Hades begin a war?
Was he bringing his children into it?
What did Persephone think, warring against her own mother for the sake of Hades? If she even agreed with it?
Altair's head swam with these, drowning out all the raucous noise occurring outside of the chaotic sanctuary of his mind. His thoughts led to Killian, and how he would maneuver his father's act of war against the gods. If Killian was to fight for his father, then everyone truly had something to fret about.
Killian was no ordinary descendant of a powerful deity; he had been touched by Chaos itself. Auva had never witnessed Killian at the Academy, especially when she had been enamored by Evangeline, but Altair had. He'd seen how Killian wielded the destruction and terror he held within his own grasp.
A shrieking screech tore against the floor as Ares careened out of his battle ax adorned armchair, pounding his fists with a force that shook the Pantheon and sent marble tumbling down from the ceiling and pillars. "How dare he begin a war with us?" A corner of his mouth pointed up like a honed blade, "I shall raze the depths of the Underworld and leave nothing but the ashes of what once was." He hauled a bronze battle ax from his chair and sunk it deep into the marbled table to signify his divine promise of razing the Underworld, then he pivoted on his foot and stalked out of the Pantheon, surely to his preparation chamber.
Altair mistakenly glanced over at Evangeline, regret tightening his throat and pure, raw hurt clawing his chest. The regret belonged more towards Auva and himself, not really Eva since she morphed her sadistic powers into manipulating his feelings. Part of the pain also belonged to Auva's soul, which Altair felt as her twin, even though he could never tell if he was anyone but her twin.
A screech cleaved Altair's state of disassociation, bringing his attention to his twin, who had risen from her throne. "I shall take my leave, I have much to do." She nodded curtly at Altair, "We shall convene later, dear brother." Barely after she turned, Eva scrambled across the marbled table, grasping at her wrist with adorned claws, "We haven't finished talking, dear lover." Altair never thought in depth how many of the deities knew they were toxic lovers, but apparently Evangeline had no reservations now.
Eva's face twisted in pain, "Have you no decency? You ooze desperation." Aphrodite yanked at her spawn's golden locks, slithering her words and coating them in venom. Altair and Apollo even made a pained face with her, glancing at each other then at Auva, who still had an expressionless stare. Why wouldn't she? She may not have thought it, but she was a moonlit reflection of their mother. Of course, she's the one deigned to be the sole heir of their mother's legacy, at least that's what everyone thought.
Aphrodite's face contorted with haughty disgust masked as an apologetic smile, "Pardon us." Her and Eva evaporated into thin air, leaving another broken family in their midst.
Apollo tried to force a cough, it didn't work. "Ah, I must retire to my godly work. Toodles and farewell." Their uncle vanished, leaving a trail of glowing orbs behind, and a devious cheshire grin.
Auva, too, had vanished and the rest of the Pantheon was either gone or calculating their future cunning moves. Altair was once again left alone to battle with his thoughts, which he abhorred half of the time.
Instead of entering his own personal war, he declared it better to rise and leave the Pantheon. He had not an inkling of where to go, but he needed to do something to not think.
Did Auva think like him? Did Apollo? Did Eva even? Surely not, she had wine and cheese and fruits for a brain, frankly. She was not dense in the typical sense, she just pursued the world differently.
With thoughts already plaguing his mind, Altair hadn't even distinguished he was not in the sky anymore, but down on Earth. Wandering through bustling streets with crooked brick buildings, bright yellow lamps, stumbling drunks, and an ominous figure that casted a familiar shadow.
Through the slits of his eyes, Altair peered at the one person he feared and admired almost as much as his own mother. The future King of the Underworld, and the one he was supposed to be warring against: Killian.
Leaning against one of the crooked brick buildings, Killian flashed a fanged grin at him, his crimson hair falling in front of his eyes that held tricks. Lots of tricks. Altair had half a mind to go back to the Academy, bypass his old friend and call it a night. Too many thoughts and war and feelings and anxiety already. Implication with the son of the warbringer was the last thing he needed.
"Dear friend," Killian had already slinked an arm over his shoulder, not giving Altair the option to leave. "Indulge me with a drink, and possibly a game?" Not wanting to think anymore, Altair gave a nod as they vanished to wherever Killian desired. His fangs bright with intent, shining brighter than any street light.