Welcome to Gaia! ::

Elizabeth Rivera

It was afternoon, but you wouldn't have known it from the smoky shadows circling the dim lights of the dive bar Lissa had stumbled upon. Her name was Eva today, and she was playing the part of being positively enamored by whatever Boris was slurring through his thick guttural accent. He'd started to mix his English with something slavic about an hour ago, but it wasn't her job to actually comprehend what he was saying--all she needed to do was flutter her lashes, laugh when prompted, pull back her shoulders to make them seem smaller, sweeter, a little dangerous but more than tamable given the right set of hands.

What a farce that was.

There was a part of her that felt bad for Boris, really--he was only a small fish in a much larger outfit, the tiniest piece of the puzzle, but by the way he puffed up his chest he might as well have been the distributor himself. Lissa wasn't expecting much out of the encounter, at least in the way of information, but she'd been surprised more than once before, and if nothing else, there was the thrill of discovery, of peeling him down layer by layer until he was sharing his life story and exposing all his dirty little secrets. Besides, she hadn't planned on doing anything else with her day, and she was meeting with a handler in three days, so she probably should at least attempt to be seen as working.

"Sasha, another round, please," she crinkled a smile to the bartender with a warmth that matched the flush to her cheeks. There was merit to keeping alert at all times when running a hussle, but Lissa found there was more merit to looking the part, to feeling every bit the role she was playing. At any rate, she was confident that if it came to blows, she was the more experienced of the two, drunk or otherwise, but maybe that was the vodka talking. Her hand fumbled as she reached for the shot glass, which Boris caught with an almost predatory gaze. Lissa let him have the revelation--it made her look vulnerable, weak, prey-like, which is exactly where she needed to be. Her laugh was not delicate as she raised her glass before knocking it against the bar, tossing it back with a well-practiced swallow. Perhaps Boris should have expected her to wince at the burning taste, or snub her nose at the fact that her shots were being poured out of water bottles to get around a liquor license, but Lissa ((and Eva, by extension)) had been to far seedier bars in far seedier towns. It was certainly not her first rodeo, but if she'd played her cards right, he'd be thinking that he was finally starting to get the upper hand despite the buzzing in his ears, the flush to his face that he'd been trying to rub away with an errant hand. He'd be wrong.

"So I heard you're working on a new project," Lissa purred as she slid her glass away, but Boris seemed to be pre-occupied, his eyes glazed over as his hands limply cupped his full shot glass. "Oh, honey, did someone need a break?" she crooned, leaning towards him with a toothy grin. But despite her little show of preening, Boris's eyes stayed flat on some horizon, his body still except for breathing. Lissa placed a hand on his, thinking the drink really had gotten to him so quickly, but when he was still unresponsive she broke character to frown. She looked up to Sasha, the old woman scrubbing at glasses in a far-off sink, but Lissa noticed that the woman's arms had stopped moving, as if in a daze.

The feeling of liquor drained from her fingertips, and Lissa's eyes darted between the other patrons, who all seemed to be in the same sedate condition. She sniffed lightly for the smell of gas, but got nothing, could see no evidence of a leak in any of the vents. So what was happening?

Someone sidled up to the bar in her peripherals, a vision of blurred gold in the smoke. Lissa did her best not to jump.

"Enjoying your game of cat and mouse? You know you won't find any real sport here."

Lissa turned to face a young man in scrubs with curly blonde hair. He hadn't been there before--or, at least, he hadn't been one of the regular patrons, and he looked a little...clean for this establishment in general. She caught a glimpse of gold between his curls and on his chest, a pin that looked like two S-shapes caught in a wrestling match.

"It's always hard to be a mouse in a world full of cats," she giggled, looking to misdirect, to downplay the strange adrenaline pumping through her veins. She was a silly girl, she was a flirt, she was nothing of importance to this man. "But hey, it's Jerry that always wins in the end, yeah? So I don't feel too bad about it."

The man smiled, but only with his mouth, and there was a sharpness to his gaze that made Lissa believe it was intentional, made her feel small and exposed in a way that was out of her control. "Come now, surely a woman of your stature sees herself as something more than a common rodent. I'll bet you're a lion hiding under all those meek furs."

There was a lyrical cadence to the man's voice, a call to arms and a challenge that Lissa knew well. Despite the rising concern in her throat, there was a part of her--a bigger, more insatiable part--that wanted to play the game, to know more, and that kept her eyes up and unblinking. "Every girl wants to be queen of the jungle," she responded sweetly, draping herself on the back of her chair. "It takes a special gift to know your place and be willing to admit it."

At that, the man laughed, and Lissa's gut wrenched, wondering if she'd betrayed her cover by being too flowery, too invested in playing at an even level. "You have many gifts, Elizabeth," the man chuckled, and Lissa's heart stopped cold, "But admitting you know your place is never going to be one of them."

Lissa had been nearly busted half a dozen times, and each one she'd managed to rein in, but this was different--there was a satisfaction in his eyes that looked like checkmate, and for once in her life Lissa actually felt cornered. In the absence of an escape route or a honeyed lie, she squared her shoulders and held her head high. "What do you want," she said flatly, the sour notes of a sore loser on her normally sweet voice.

"I'm here to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative," the man began jokingly, and then he broke eye contact to laugh to himself, a peal of notes that sprinkled salt in Lissa's already-wounded pride. "Oh--sweetie, I'm sorry, did you really think you were going to outsmart a god?"

Lissa's head was too caught in the sudden updraft of fury to hear his words at first. Pet names were her thing, this was her operation that was being interrupted, and for all her veneer she kept getting read like a book by this stranger. Who did he think he was?

"Hermes, actually," he responded with a congenial nod of his head, taking no note of the stilled patrons. He moved around Boris, who also took no notice, and sat down beside her. "And while unpolished, I appreciate your work. I want to see what you can do with some real firepower, with your eyes actually open."

He held out a card, and Lissa's wounded pride flared in blind rage, sorely tempted to slap it out of his delicate little fingers. But if there was one thing Hermes had been right on so far, it had been her cat-like nature, and her need to sate her curiosity was far greater than any vitriol she could possibly bear. "Explain," she prompted, reaching for the token with hungry hands. It was sturdy stock, gilded with letters she didn't understand but felt like she could maybe decipher, if only she bothered to look long enough.

"An associate will find you in the next week or so, give you the full details, but I'll give you the cliffnotes for now," Hermes nodded, folding his arms behind his back. "I've chosen you as champion, to represent me and forward my cause. It's an unpaid internship, I'm afraid, but the benefits are incredible." He flashed a smile at her that might as well have been full of sharks teeth, but Lissa was already hooked.

"Sounds like a**," she said noncommittally, but already her mind was racing, eager for more.

"Perhaps, but it's exquisite a**," Hermes smirked, shrugging his shoulders as he began to turn away. "We will meet again." Lissa blinked and she was facing the bar again, the card in her hands melting away like powdered sugar in water. She felt the bar collectively exhale, and with it came the little sounds of movements, Sasha's hands moving under the water as she scrubbed once again, Boris downing his drink with a satisfied sigh, idle chatter from the booths. In contrast, Lissa herself felt frozen, numb as she tried to process what she'd just felt. It had been a daydream, a hallucination, surely--but she could still feel the shape of the card on her fingers, the warm glint of gold.

"Eva, baby, you need a break?" Boris laughed, waving a hand in front of her face. It took a moment for Lissa to even register she was being spoken to, and when she came up from staring at her hand she blinked dumbly, as if blinded by some light.

"...Think I'm gonna get some air, freshen up a bit," she murmured, the saccharine hints to her voice crumbling away as she stood. Boris moved to follow her, a gruff hand sliding into the curve at her waist, but Lissa shimmied away with a brusqueness that was out of character for sweet Eva, making a beeline for the door.

She needed a drink, something stronger and safer than whatever was in those water bottles.

((1718 words oh god I'm so sorry))

Beth Almasy

Nearly 3,000 miles between them and Beth found that she could still be lectured by her mother. Well, not lectured, per se, as her words were meant for another. But words and declarations had a way of serving as unwritten sanctions against following their footsteps. Beth was curled up beneath a quilt on her king sized mattress, staring into a fish eye lens as if enraptured by her mother's rambling.

“And of course he wants to bring up Thanksgiving as if it was solely on me that I didn't know that Great Aunt Edith passed, the cow, when he was the one who didn't give me the details when we missed the service. I just wanted to tell Helen that it was lucky she came into so much!”

Beth made a noncommittal, sympathetic noise in response. It wasn't needed, but Beth felt better when she acted like she cared. She wondered if her mother would notice if she started repainting her nails. It was always easier to let the sea of words wash over her if there was something to do with her hands. She'd tried knitting, but when her mother complained that it made her seem like an old lady, she stopped.

“When's the next time we're going to see that side of his family after all, you know? But you know how he is, always touting that you shouldn't burn bridges—as if Helen likes him any more than she does me. She remembers Hank's birthday, god, he really downed those margaritas and I told him, I told him didn't I?”

Beth noticed her head starting to droop in the smaller section of the screen that showed her camera's view. Quickly—but not quick enough to draw attention to it—she propped her chin on her hand, pulling the blankets around her for good measure.

To no avail, as it only gave her mother something to zero in on. The woman stopped mid-rant to say, “Darling are you all right? It's not too cold there? Are you keeping your heater on?”

“Yes, Mom. The floors are self heating.” Beth smiled, happy to see that her ruby lipstick hadn't smudged onto the enamel of her teeth. “It's not that much colder than New York, you know.”

“Hm, well, it certainly seems that way when your father gets your utility bills! How much does it take to heat that tiny apartment anyway? Maybe they ought look at the pipes or something.” Of course she would find her three bedroom apartment small.

“I don't know, how much did you pay for your new handbag?” Beth couldn't stop the barb from escaping, and when her mother pressed her lips together and got that tilt to her shoulders, she knew that she would not get away with it. Running damage control was second nature, so she ducked her head, twisted her lips as if she tasted something rotten and lifted her eyes to make the instinctive apology sound sincere. “I'm sorry, Mom, it's just been a tough day.”

There was a sharpness to her mother's image as she settled back in her chair that made Beth's breath catch. It was like the HD had suddenly kicked in while watching the first minute of an online video; all else had been a blurry re-imagining. “Do not apologize and snivel behind false excuses, dear; you have more to offer than that.”

Beth blinked. “Excuse me?”

Her mother tilted her head, an elegance to the movement that was nothing like the woman. “You have the right to demand more. To use your resources to build a legacy. To have a home and a shelter that is yours to rule.”

Nonplussed, Beth could only ask, “Mom?” The seriousness in the simple words held no resemblance to the frivolous frippery of merely moments before. Perhaps she'd had one too many aperatifs before the call. It sometimes happened that Mother Almasy dropped pearls of wisdom from her painted mouth, but in order to learn most of her lessons, Beth needed only to watch her failings.

The image of her mother laughed, though it was not particularly cheery. “No. I am Hera.” Something stirred in the recesses of Beth's mind, a shadow of a memory of elementary school and the back of her neck warmed.

“I, uh, didn't accidentally flirt with your husband, did I? 'Cause I promise I'm not really sure when that would have been.” The frostiness that returned her gaze told her just how the ill-conceived joke had been received. Her fault, maybe, for the shakiness in her voice.

“I am Hera,” the image repeated, aging beauty engraven like marble, “and I have chosen you to receive my blessing.” She paused, as if to emphasize the enormity of that statement. “Should you accept it—and you should—someone will visit you. They will ask you to go with them. You will say yes.”

Beth frowned momentarily before seeing the creases it put in her reflection. “Why?”

“Do you think this life—chosen on a puerile whim, furnished with your father's riches—is the one you were born for?” Flashes of the life she spoke of—laughter at a bar, the thrill of being alone in a late night picture show, idly doodling as the professor droned on about the preservation of the past in hallowed halls—fluttered across her mind. She'd never thought of it as bad, precisely. Parts of it could be really, really good. Lately, though, it had felt like the dragging second half of a rebooted movie. Beth swallowed the defensive instinct, though her ribs contracted in her chest at the condescension dripping from Hera's voice. “When you say yes, you will invite magic into your life. I daresay yours could use a little.”

Before Beth could agree, the image seemed to fizzle and pop and she was lifting her head from the nest of her quilt, blinking sleep from her eyes and cotton from her head.

“Beth? Beth! Honestly, girl, falling asleep on me like that! I can't believe you would call me if you needed a nap! Don't you think you should pay more attention to your own mother?” Beth smiled a bit sheepishly and raised her hand to swipe at her eyes. But her fingers instead clenched around the bright teal and green shaft of a single peacock feather, tucked into the folds of her blanket. The eye rested right above her heart.

[Word Count: 1063]

Aurora-Sunshine Jones

Rory had been in her little garden for the better part of the morning, weeding and checking on her vegetables. Her daughter, Aryssa, would say that there was nothing little about her mother's garden and calling it so would be like saying her grandparents weren't super hippies. Just wrong. Rory chuckled at the thought of her brand new teenager who was spending the weekend with one of her friends from school. She had about a day left before she would go pick her up, and the house seemed lonely without her.

To help fix that, Rory thumbed through the playlist on her phone and stuck it in the portable stereo Aryssa had talked her into buying. It was lightweight enough that she could carry it with her anywhere in the house and she made use of that fact now as she hummed along to her favorite Rolling Stones tunes, carrying the speaker under her arm. She made her way through the house, grabbing the things she would need for a nice, long, and luxurious bath. Well, it would be a shower first to wash away the dirt and sweat from hours spent in her garden. But then it would be a relaxing bath. It was hard to do this when Aryssa was home as the thirteen year old seemed to constantly be going in and out of the only bathroom in the house.

Which was one of the reasons she had agreed to let her go for the weekend. As a mother, Rory was fairly laid-back and gave Aryssa room to make her own decisions. But it didn't mean that she didn't worry about her daughter. She did, all the time, and she knew that now that Aryssa was a teenager there would be harder choices for her to make. Rory hoped she had taught her daughter well, and that she would make the right choices.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on the music instead of her worries. Aryssa was safe and that was all that mattered right now. The rocking beat of "(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction" came on and Rory turned it up, singing to the lyrics loud as she showered. Once she was clean, she lowered the volume and set up her bath. The sweet and relaxing scent of her vanilla lavender bubble bath permeated the small room as she sat on the edge of the tub.

"Aurora-Sunshine."

She froze. There shouldn't be anyone in her house, and there were no windows in the bathroom.

"Rory," came the voice again. It was gentle, and motherly. And seemed to be coming from her stereo.

"Yes?" she answered. There was no reason to be rude, even to disembodied voices that possibly meant she was going crazy. Well, not that she hadn't heard voices before but it had been a few years since she'd smoked anything that would cause them.

"I am Demeter." She sounded amused. The Rolling Stones still played in the background, but the music seemed muted the goddess spoke. "I have Chosen you, Aurora-Sunshine. And if you choose to accept my blessing, someone will be by to recruit you. And you will say yes." At this, the goddess sounded almost smug. "Because becoming my Chosen will mean there is magic in your life."

Rory stared at the stereo. How could she say no to a goddess? "Y-yes! Absolutely!" she answered, not entirely sure she was still there to hear. If that had really been Demeter, then she would find out when the recruiter came by. If that had just been the result of her past indiscretions involving certain mind-altering substances, then she would find out when no one came by.

If she were truthful with herself, she rather hoped it was the former.

(WC: 627)

Jethro Tull pulsated and whistled from her computer speakers, her chair wobbling and bouncing to her movements to the... folk rock? That could be applied here, right? Tara only paused briefly over this thought before it was ignored in favor of her work. Photographs from the day's educational hike and photography group were uploaded to her computer. The client she had worked with on the event had requested a number of the shots to be edited and sent on over for them to use in future advertising. Shots of the participants along with shots of the local fauna she hoped the participants were able to see.

Hosted by a natural history museum, it'd been mostly college kids that had signed up, but a number brought family members and younger kids. A few older couples also showed up for the morning buffet style breakfast at the site, cameras in hand and excited for the walk. Tara had been relieved at the outcome--summer excursions were hit and miss, with only so many people wanting to deal with so much physical activity in the heat. Or hear a zoologist and wildlife photographer prattle on about animals.

The resulting combination of range of participants that day had made for wonderful shots though. Tara smiled against the rim of her mug as she took another sip of her tea, looking at one shot of a kid helping an older woman with her digital camera... and in the next shot, the woman was helping the youngster locate and snap a shot of a woodpecker that had been particularly showy and flamboyant around the group. Tara was pretty sure the woman had her own photography experience, but it'd been pretty cute to see the kid try to show her the features of the camera that was just like his mom's.

A smudge of sorts in the background caught Tara's eye, and she double-clicked on the photo, bringing it up solo. Nope, not a smudge on her computer screen... Clicking her tongue a bit, wondering if perhaps a bug had been zipping through the shot, she zoomed in. Nope. Not a bug. Her eyes narrowed, noting how the smudge was somewhat behind some of the trees further back from the group. Trying to sharpen the image, brighten it... any trick she could think of to enhance the image, didn't really show anything. Maybe a deer?

Finally, Tara grumbled, setting down her mug on the desk, shuffling papers aside to give the thing room. Her mouse clicked and dragged, and opened up other shots of the same area, different angles. The same smudge was present in other shots, but no closer than before. The same attempts to figure out what the smudge was again turned out to be a waste of time. "Least it's not a sign I need a new camera," she murmured after seeing it in a few different shots.

She figured it was just a critter further back that had wandered by them. No big deal.

It started showing up in more photos as she went on. Getting bigger, and, after a few more shots, close enough that she was able to clean up the image and see it. A doe, definitely moving closer to the group, each time positioned where Tara's camera had been pointing. Catching sight of an animal in the background wasn't a novel concept. What mystified her was how the same doe kept appearing in shot after shot, closer and closer. Even when others should have been looking out towards the bold animal, Tara quickly noted no one else seemed to be focusing on her. Despite how close she got, despite how easy it'd have been to snap wonderful photos of the doe...

Tara thought back to the day. She'd... never seen the doe. She'd looked out through the camera, snapped the shots, yes. But the doe hadn't... been there. And considering how close the doe continued to get, in increasingly obvious and clear spots, a shiver ran down her spine. She'd definitely have noticed the doe.

Had the doe... been there.

The brown and white coat had a strange sheen to it, the colors of the forest around the doe almost reflected on her coat. When Tara zoomed in on the creature's face, she gave a jerk, her chair squeaking in protest to the movements. Folded legs unfolded, feet hitting the floor with a thud. Her eyes squinted, mouse zoomed in further... switched to another photo where the doe was visible, zoomed in on her face. Her eyes were silver. Reflective and prismatic, Tara was almost more upset that she'd not seen this doe before her physically, than she was at the fact there was an animal in her photos that hadn't been there when she'd taken the shots.

Music from the speakers shifted. Lyrics morphed, and Tara looked up from her screen to the speakers on either side of her desk. That definitely wasn't Jethro Tull speaking. A woman's voice wafted through the pipe instruments. "Had you been alone, I would have spoken to you then." It was not an unpleasant voice, strength and confidence in her words. Tara felt her skin prickle, mouse clicking to Spotify to see what song was playing. Whistler didn't sound like this. She knew those lyrics by heart. Minimizing the window, she stared again at the doe that hadn't been in the woods with them that day.

"So... I'm alone now and..?" Her voice wavered, prodding and unsure. This was insane. Her eyes flicked to her tea. She hadn't put anything else in there right? Just water, the tea bag, and sugar. Nothing else?

"Now we may speak."

Nope. Nope that definitely came from her speakers. In response to her question. Tara gave a shaky laugh, forcing a smile to her face. "O-okay. I... um... you... are..?" Was it just her or was the doe moving in the digital photo? No. Ok no that was just her imagination.

A laugh, simple and surprisingly... warm? Ish. "I am Artemis, Tara O'Connell. I have Chosen you." Tara's smile stayed stuck in place, even as she felt chills go down her arms at hearing the woman's voice speak her name through the speakers. The folk rock music played on, instrumental beneath the woman's voice. With no face to look at otherwise, she continued to stare at the static face of the doe that had come so close to her, unseen. The woman said if Tara had been alone that the woman would have spoken to her... so... the doe..?

"Okay... um... well it's a pleasure to meet you, Artemis. But um... can you explain what you mean by chosen?" Her head was spinning, but she was at least able to keep her voice even and perky.

Artemis laughed. Or was it an instrument? "Explanations will be given by another within a week, should you accept my blessing." There was a pause. Waiting for what the woman--goddess, if this was the Artemis Tara knew of from basic myths--clearly expecting out of Tara's mouth.

Wetting her lips, brow furrowed, she could feel her pulse thundering. "I-I mean... I'm honored but um... without any explanation to what it means, I don't--"

"It will mean magic in your life, Tara. Not insanity. It will mean a chance to help protect the creatures you already work to aid, new sights to see and memorialize in your own way. Do not hesitate to chase this opportunity."

Tara was hesitating. With good reason. She felt like she was going insane--being told she wasn't was only earning the screen a skeptical look. Yet the words still tumbled from her mouth. Hopeful, wishing that maybe this was't some forgotten shot of alcohol or stress speaking. Because wouldn't that be so cool? Her eyes were glued to the ethereal looking doe. What if she could actually see this creature, with her own eyes, get more shots? If this was legit then... hey, meant there was a hell of a lot more out there to learn, right..?

"Alright... I accept your blessing, Artemis."

The music returned to normal. Tara blinked. The doe... was gone from the photos. She scanned each and everyone, zoomed in as far as possible. Nothing. Nothing remained to show what had happened had been remotely legitimate and not just a figment of her imagination. That... stung. Rubbing her eyes, Tara cussed a few times. She was being silly. Definitely needed to sleep. But... well. She wrote herself a note. Within the week. If this was a real message from the Artemis... well. Ok. The goddess had a week to prove it.

Twitter

Moira Makeup:
“Just posted a new video called The Kids Makeup Challenge. Come see how well I can complete a look using kids makeup ONLY!”

Sighing in content, Moira leaned back in her computer chair with a smile before closing her Twitter tab to move on to the next thing on her to do list. She still had another video to edit before heading to bed. A quick glance to the bottom right corner of her computer screen told her it was already close to one in the morning, but thus was the life of a vlogger. She had an event Saturday and wouldn’t be able to post anything that day; if she didn’t get this done it would be bad for her reputation.

Her phone flashed and binged at the same time, catching her attention, Moira picked up the phone and glanced at the notification. Someone by the name of Aphrodite.Beauty.Goddess had messaged her on Twitter. Swiping her phone open, Moira clicked on the notification and read the message that the user had left.

Twitter

Aphrodite.Beauty.Goddess:
“I am Aphrodite, and I have Chosen you. If you accept my blessing, someone will come by within the next week to recruit you, and you will say yes, because it will mean magic in your life.”

Moira stared at the message before chuckling to herself, it was probably spam right? Clicking the rose icon of this so called Aphrodite, Moira found herself frowning. The account was set to private; there was no information showing up except the accounts name, icon, and small intro paragraph which said “Beauty, Love, Desire”. She’d never seen a private Twitter account before and dismissed the message as spam. Closing her phone, Moira got back to work on the next video but not before posting a short Snapchat. Her phone binged a few more times but she all but ignored the messages, this needed to get done.

An hour later, the video was edited and Moira headed right to bed leaving her phone unattended and ignoring the messages she’d previously received. The morning came far too quickly for her liking, but Moira liked to stay on schedule and so she was up at eight in the morning. Grabbing her phone, she saw that someone had messaged her at the same time she’d received the Aphrodite message but on her Youtube, Gmail, Instagram, and Snapchat. She’d have to check them later, because she had to get to Sephora for a new product line coming up. Moira did however, open her Snapchat to Snap something and noticed who had sent the message.

It was the same name as the Twitter account, Aphrodite.Beauty.Goddess. Ignoring it for now, Moira grabbed her vlogging camera and started her day. Breakfast, then shower before she decided to pick out an outfit inspired by Aphrodite the Greek goddess. She took a quick picture and posted it to Instagram before running out of the door to grab her mail and then drive over to the Sephora.

The place was packed, Moira filmed a bit outside of the store before heading in. Some of the sales associates smiled at her and left her to herself. She was here probably just as often as they were to buy things for her channel and by now they knew she didn’t need any help to find her products. She rarily spoke to the accosiates unless it was to find out when a product was launched at their store. There was a small crowd of girls in front of the new product display all swatching on their skin the new palette by Tarte. Moira ducked in, grabbed a palette and then left the group to look around at some other makeup items she might want to grab.

While in line, Moira did check the messages by this so called Aphrodite.Beauty.Goddess and they all read the same mysterious message that she’d received on her Twitter.

Quote:

“I am Aphrodite, and I have Chosen you. If you accept my blessing, someone will come by within the next week to recruit you, and you will say yes, because it will mean magic in your life.”

No troll had ever gone out of their way to message her on so many platforms with the same message over and over again. Maybe this Aphrodite was some sort of sponsor? The name could also represent a company or a makeup brand of some kind. She’d never heard of such a company but then again Moira didn’t know all of the companies out there either. Meeting this representative they were sending couldn’t really hurt so long as they met in public and they came to meet her. Moira decided to answer on her business Gmail since if this was a sponsorship she wanted it to be done properly and professionally.

Gmail

Moira Bedelia Mac Loughlin:
“Good afternoon,
I will happily meet with your representative if this is for a makeup sponsorship. Please let me know what time and day would be convenient for you to meet with me.
Thank you.”

Email sent, Moira gave a friend a call while she waited for her turn at the cash register and asked if she wanted to go to lunch with her warning her that she would be vlogging their lunch date. Jasmine accepted and they decided on a place and time to meet before Moira hung up. She was really hoping that this Aphrodite person or company would want to sponsor her; she could always use the cash for her expenses for her channel. The woman at the cash register waved her over and Moira went to greet her. After lunch she would edit for a bit and then see if her mother wanted to have dinner with her. That would give her enough time to run a few more YouTube related errands before she got some more food into her system.

Her phone pinged and Moira checked it. Aphrodite.Beauty.Goddess had commented on her Instagram picture of the Aphrodite inspired outfit.

Instagram

Aphrodite.Beauty.Goddess:
“Cute outfit!”

Moira smiled, she was looking forward to meeting this representative.

A quiet day in the garden was what, generally, suited Juliet best.

It was a Saturday, warm and sunny with a light breeze, and there were a few other people there too, all working on weeding or watering some part or other of their little community garden, but Juliet was in her own little world, humming along with the music playing in her headphones. It was exactly the kind of day she liked to have, with nothing to grade and no students to chase after, no obligations but the ones she chose for herself.

She adjusted the basket slung over her shoulder, carefully examining the tomatoes on the vine in front of her. Most would need another day or two to reach peak ripeness, but the ones that were ready were delicately placed in her basket, truly fresh and homegrown produce to go into her dinner that night.

She moved from one plot to the next carefully, avoiding disturbing lower-growing plants as she examined some very lovely cucumber vines. There were a few small ones that looked perfectly, edibly ripe, and she hummed the strains of the delicate violin solo playing in her ears as she picked them, a song with no words - except suddenly, bizarrely, there were.

“Juliet,” a woman’s voice, warm and strangely comforting, said, through her headphones, and yet instinctively she turned to look and see if someone had called her name, but no - no one had. “Juliet, dear, listen to me. Just for a moment.”

She did. She listened, silently, not wanting to speak aloud and look utterly insane talking to...to nothing, apparently.

“My name is Demeter, and I have Chosen you.” Juliet stood straight up, and looked around, one more time, just to make sure -- but no one was even looking in her direction. This was. Really happening. Somehow.

“I’m no one special,” she said, soft enough that she was sure no one would hear.

”You are more special than you know, my dear.” The voice said, and Juliet wanted to disagree, but...it seemed rude, to argue with someone who was paying you a very, very large compliment. “You may accept that you are chosen or not, but if you do accept - in a week’s time, someone will come to you. They will help you understand. You will become something greater, Juliet Fiore. You will find true magic, and you really will be able to make the world a better place. Just like you always dreamed.”

Her heart began to race. It seemed so utterly outlandish - her, a mousy, quiet high school teacher; she really was, as far as she knew, no one special at all. Or -- well, she had to be wrong, didn’t she? If this was at all true and not some kind of bizarre hallucination.

She supposed she would find out in a week, if the promised person came. Because of course she would say yes - how could she say anything else?

“I accept your blessing, Demeter,” she said. There was a warm, bright laugh, and then the violin was back, and Juliet was left smiling to herself.

Magic. Real magic. Perhaps her perfectly quiet life did not need to be so quiet after all.

[WC: 551 words]

It was hot, as sweat beaded down her back as the loose black tank clung where it could to the sticky mess. Hot and humid, the worse sort of combination that Kinley hated about the summer and the city had very little hopes of sending a cooling breeze her way any time soon. A small metal fan sat haphazardly on a shelf in the corner facing downward where it lazily made it way across the room as if it could have cared less of giving some comfort to ease her pain. Picking up the rag she had set on the edge of the frame of the white service truck Kinley wiped the thick layer of black grease from her fingertips as she walked around the vehicle to the open toolbox. Shifting a few of the tools around she picked up the wrench she needed and headed back over to the exposed engine.

The truck was getting on in years, and it wasn’t the first time she had worked on it, despite Mr. Jones old fashion opinion of doubting the young woman’s knowledge of what she was doing. Both her brothers were out picking up someone’s stalled car by the highway her father had to pick up a few specialty parts for one of his more valued customers. That left Kinley alone in the garage, almost alone if you counted Mr. Jones sitting in the small waiting room occasional glancing up and almost glaring at her leaving very little choice who got to do the job.

“There.” She beamed for a moment at the uncovered engine before lifting up the rag again as she made her way to the driver’s seat, shoving the key in the ignition and twisting the beast to life with a rumbling roar. Giving it a few minutes before pressing her foot to the pedal, she listened to the engine revved up and down until satisfied that the problem had been corrected. Now that it was fixed Kinley could finally get the scowling man out of there before anyone else came back to the garage to butt in on her job.

Cutting the engine she hopped out of the driver’s seat and slammed the hood of the car down before entering the small waiting room. It was a little dark with half of it covered still in the wood paneling that was only popular in the eighties while the other half where the counter stood was covered from floor to ceiling with various pictures since the day her grandfather had opened the shop. Heading to the relic of a computer she typed in a few things not giving any attention as Mr. Jones leaned his elbows on the counter.

“How long are you going to keep working here slaving away over vehicles while people groan and mock your skill?” HIs fingers tapped as she glared up from the screen at the man. “You know you’re wasting your talents and degree doing this everyday.”

“Whatever. What da ******** do you know.” Kinley’s face twisted in a grimace as confusion swept through her as she tried to remember if that was really Mr. Jones voice or if this was some sort of rouse for a camera. The man she knew had barely said five words other than grunts what reason would he even think about speaking to her now.

“Of course you do, but here let me introduce myself. I am Hephaestus, or at least the voice of Hephaestus in this borrowed body. and you my dear I have chosen to give a better reasoning in life, more chance, maybe a little more of an adventure and so on and so forth than spending your entirely life here like the rest of your family.” Mr. Jones grinned, in which Kinley for her entire life was sure that such facial movements from the man were impossible.

“What in hell’s name is going on… this is a joke or trap right. Did Sam and Will bribe you into this?” A look of skepticism showed on her face as her fingers curled into a fist ready to move if anything weirder started to happen.

The man held up his hand and waved it dismissively. “You have a choice, think about it. Someone will be here in a few days a for a reply and with some hope recruit you and bring you back. Until then I hope things fair well for you.”

“As if.” She snapped smashing the fist onto the counter as the man stepped back a disgruntled look replaced the previous smirk as he snorted.

“So what service is free now?”