Salutary Neglect--

[Hera&Morpheus]

The night air was like a lover's touch. Cloaked in mystery, beckoning with promise, sweet at times but quickly cloying. And underneath it all, rotten to the very core. Above the towers and glooms of this rather elegant, palace, the moon was but a mere silver whisker, enshrouded by the billowing heaps of slate clouds as they wept their dismal way across the otherwise desolate expanse of heaven and space.

There was no fitful company of the stars tonight. No constellations to gaze and decipher at. No eerie calling of the night owl to summon the little forest animals to fright. Absolutely no sounds of the alive and living. Only nocturnal silence: still, sweet, deep and complete. This is how everyday life should be. Melancholy and dim, dark and deprived, dull and mundane. Just a perpetual life of black and white, and shades of gray.

She was but a lone, tall figure, standing still, at the end of a high balcony; it's structure so visually artistic, so aristocratically chiseled, that the crawling limbs of rose vines, some wilted and some caught in half bloom, only added to its dark beauty. Her back was towards you, so all that you could make of her was a slender feminine form and the tail of her red stola. And just as the night was dreary and sinister, such was the aura that surrounded this peculiar woman. And in her hand, so delicately held by its elegant crystalline neck, a glass of wine so dark and rich a red it was nearly black.

Looking down with those cool blue eyes of hers, she would see one by one, as those fancy open carriages strolled in, accommodating her fellow Deities, drawn by even fancier beasts of burden; horses they were called. Lots of them. Some bearing long feathery plumes that curled rather daintily over their noble heads, and most with their bridles set so tight and high, as if to achieve that desirable proud neck; the owners were silently showing-off its good breeding, no doubt.

It was only upon the arrival of the Gods in their parade of sophistication and splendor was Hera disdainfully reminded of what a foul whore the night was. And especially, how vain its people could be. Surely, they were no better than the soil they stepped on. No better than the stench of the dark, dank earth below, or the insects that writhe, crawl and feast upon the dead and decayed.

Beauty is harsh, never forever; give it time, and the years will not be so kind to you. No matter how much you try to preserve your youth, or delay your aging through selfish acts of vanity, you will, in the end, succumb to the ground and be rich food to Mother Earth.

"Lovely night, isn't it, Queen?" The old, kindly-faced servant stood within a respectable distance of his woman, knowing all to well how she cherished her own company and solitude. Often, he would stop and wonder, what goes on in that mind of yours, Hera, ma'am? Why are you so quiet? So silently withdrawn? But of course, such questions —as modest and as innocent as they may seem— would only punctuate at rudeness, and when you're around the company of the rich and the beautiful, it is best to keep those lips neatly sealed. No matter how curious to death you were.

But it was only a thin line of a smile that greeted him, as the Goddess in scarlett did so little to turn around, so little to appear friendly; her chin hardly akin to her shoulders, and eyes held at a lazy slant, with the mysterious spill of shadows pooling into half the contours of her handsome, high-cheek boned face. Yes, looking at her alone and holding it there was a challenge; those eyes were challenging. Blue, dashed in gray and flecked with black, she had the most electrifying gaze, so when she looks at /you/ directly, you are reminded of the cool stare of a cat's.

Yeah, she also didn't really look like she gave a flying fuck. But she responded nevertheless, rolling off the very tip of her tongue, a sarcastic and cynical: "Yes. Quite lovely indeed." And it was only then did the benevolent servant had enough decency to pick up his cue.

And it was to leave.

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[Demeter;;]

A finely shaped head of a beautiful bay beast rose proudly, it's muscular neck arched in grace. The peltage was glimmering in the dazzling lights of the palace, it's large eyes much more intelligent than average animals could be. It's nostrils flared, blowing hot air out in a billow as it strutted forward and then stopped easily in front of the door. A single hoof was stomped, a signal that it was time for the defined beauty riding upon it to dismount. The gorgeous Goddess did so, brown locks of hair cascading and rippling down her back in flowing waves. Her green eyes glittered with power, as bold and as lovely as a spring meadow in May.

She was dressed in a classy garment, that was both extremely fancy and very fitting on her bodice. She waved her hand elegantly as she dropped down from her regal steed, far more great than the best equine rider in the mortal world or one of the other Gods or Goddess in the carriages. She came not only in style, but in skill. As she stepped down, she wore what seemed a perfect smile on her face, and she whispered into the horse's aud as if speaking to it. Before you know it, the mare was resting peacefully in the stable, as ordered by her friend. The immortal looked everywhere; up, down, around; until she finally walked toward the entrance.

She saw Hera looking disdainfully down on the vain, and gave her a look of utter surprise and innocence. How could she be so bitter, the oh so lovely Queen, to her fellow family. What a sour sister she could be at times, she felt it a burden to know her, let alone be related, to her at all. Sighing loudly, she sniffed as if in disgust, before turning away from her. She would show no rudeness, for she was a very polite Goddess, but Hera really did need to learn to show respect if she wanted to receive it. Shaking her head, she decided to wait outside in order to see if she could accompany someone inside. It was a delicious night anyway, and she wanted to enjoy it.

Breathing in the fresh air, her eyes twinkling like stars, she wondered if Persephone would come with Hades. Perhaps, perhaps not. Who knew what Hades might think she would do. Still, she wanted to see her precious daughter, her younger self indeed. Oh, and what if Poseidon came? Ugh, how she simply despised him! Her nose crinkled, as if she had just smelt something horrible. She really hoped he wouldn't come. In fact, she wondered what even had made her attend this event at all. She barely wished to be here, let alone see the people she hated to the very core. Snapping back into reality, she looked around with a steady gaze of what almost seemed like scorn.

The dubbance of this female was Demeter. Unfortunately, she was in a bad mood.

[Hera&Morpheus]

<sup>Certain people have a way of saying things that shake us at the core. Even when the words do not seem harsh or offensive, the impact is shattering. What we could be experiencing is the intent behind the words. When we intend to do good, we do. When we intend to do harm, it happens. What each of us must come to realize is that our intent always comes through. We cannot sugarcoat the feelings in our heart of hearts. The emotion is the energy that motivates. We cannot ignore what we really want to create. We should be honest and do it the way we feel it. What we owe to ourselves and everyone around is to examine the reasons of our true intent.

She did not care that her other sibilings thought her bitter. Hah..Why /shouldn't/ she be bitter? Her husband had tricked her into marrying him, he persisted on having liasons, her siblings were ridiculously naive, all but one, and even then..there was little for her to look forward to with the mortals. They had all gone and gotten themselves thrown behind a veil of ignorance thanks to the newage religions, and completely disregarded the past..not eve bothering to show truth when they spoke of it either. The modern generations had stripped the Gods of their dignity--she would not stand idly by and allow them to take hers and destroy whatever character traits she had left. Every story about her portrayed the brunette as a harsh shrew; jealous at that. Of course Hera wasn't going to deny being such, but they took it to the extremes, and if her thoughts held true..everyone around her was beginning to believe such ludicrus stories about their Queen.

Bringing the wine glass to her lips, she turned and watched the party beneath heavy lidded eyes. What was so much fun about dancing and being merry when a war was to happen? Did they all find it as a way to forget the true goings on? A bunch of fools..the lot of them. Nothing in the world is more dangerous than a sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity. They parade around just as badly as their horses and counterparts. Here they are now, eneveloped by soft silks and cotton, drowning themselves in material itms so as to forget the fact they all openly wanted to rip each other's throats out.

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light. Hera wished herself apart from her family and 'friends', but it was all a lie. She was exactly like them, and they her..oh such a pity this forced conformity.

Quite often, as life goes on, when we feel completely secure as we go on our way, we suddenly notice that we are trapped in error, that we have allowed ourselves to be taken in by individuals, by objects, have dreamt up an affinity with them which immediately vanishes before our waking eye; and yet we cannot tear ourselves away, held fast by some power that seems incomprehensible to us. Sometimes, however, we become fully aware and realize that error as well as truth can move and spur us on to action. Now because action is always a decisive factor, something really good can result from an active error, because the effect of all that has been done reaches out into infinity. So although creative action is certainly always best, destroying what has been done is also not without happy consequence.

Disgarding her wine glass on a side table as she walked back into the party, attention was caught by a particularly stingy Goddess..Demeter. How was she to deny the presence of her younger sister so easily? Oh, she very well could, but that might cause a social uprising at the party. And so, gathering whatever bit of inward appeal that she could, Hera stepped toward her little sibling. "As much as we'd like to deny it sister," She drawled in a regal tone, "we're very much alike when it comes to these types of affairs.."</sup>

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[Demeter;;]

Demeter looked at her curiously, her green eyes wide with sweet innocence. She wanted to ignore her sudden, bold comment, but couldn't stop her reply from coming.

"Perhaps we are, Hera, but I daresay we both use them to our advantages in much different ways." Her voice was lofty now, as if she was setting aside the matter for a different day and a different debate. She turned her head away, looking out upon the others that were supposed to be coming. Hopefully Dion would come to offer that delicious wine of his, then they could have a real party.

That is if Hera or one of the other Immortals didn't ruin it with their tempers before they even got to the peaceful parts. The Goodbyes always seemed to be the better part in a day for a party, lately. She sighed, looking at her sister again politely. As a servant walked past, she waved her hands at him and called him over. "A glass of wine, please. Make sure it isn't that awful bitter kind either. I prefer good wine." Her eyes sticked to Hera though, and she barely took notice as he left to retrieve it for her. A smirk showed on her glossy lips, and her eyebrows arched curiously, but she said nothing.

As soon as she had gotten her drink, she picked it up with dainty fingers, sipping it slightly to taste it. Just right. When she had taken another of the precious liquid, she spoke again.

"Now, Hera, I appreciate you throwing this rather lovely get together, but I suggest you just for once be considerate of us all in these troubling times." She paused to take another long swig of her drink, silently and luxuriously. With a sigh of satisfaction, she peered at Hera more intently now. She stopped the subject there, not even wanting to hear her reply, instead asking about her life and how she was.

"I really do hope you've been doing well, sister." And with that, she narrowed her eyes with a smirk and took another cool sip of the wine.

[Hera&Morpheus]

<sup>It is not the critic who counts, not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes short again and again, who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, and spends himself in a worthy cause, who at best knows achievement and who at the worst if he fails at least fails while daring greatly so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat. Did Demeter even know what Hera put up with for the sake of their kind? Her sister was an ungrateful fool, and she could care less if she dropped off the face of the Earth the next time Atlas shrugged.

It was in a lackadaisical manner that Hera addressed the sudden appearance of a smirk on her sister, that sad excuse of a Goddess. “You look ridiculous.” she said dryly. The colossal misunderstanding of our time is the assumption that insight will work with people who are unmotivated to change. Communication does not depend on syntax, or eloquence, or rhetoric, or articulation but on the emotional context in which the message is being heard. People can only hear you when they are moving toward you, and they are not likely to when your words are pursuing them. Even the choices words lose their power when they are used to overpower. Attitudes are the real figures of speech. "A soothing smile is much more appropriate. You won't look half as childish." So she made a small amount of effort to appear nice toward her insolent sister.

There are three ways of dealing with difference: domination, compromise, and integration. By domination only one side gets what it wants; by compromise neither side gets what it wants; by integration we find a way by which both sides may get what they wish. "This is not my party. Therefore, I can act as I please." She paused, and gave Demeter a dismissive look over. "You tend to forget who you speak to.." She was the eldest daughter of their parents, Queen of the Gods, a former Death Goddess, the only one aside from her husband to bestow prophecy, and a protector of marriage. Her power came in many way shapes and forms, for someone as seemingly wise as Demeter, she treaded a very fine line. Implied insults were just as bad as regular ones in Hera's eyes.

The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply uncomfortable, unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments, propelled by our discomfort, that we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers. Inwardly reeling at the idea, Hera offered Demeter a mocking rueful smile, "Yes, infact, I've been spending time with your daughter and her husband; both send their regards." The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph. What we obtain too cheap, we esteem too lightly; it is dearness only that gives everything its value. I love the man that can smile in trouble, that can gather strength from distress and grow brave by reflection. 'Tis the business of little minds to shrink; but he whose heart is firm, and whose conscience approves his conduct, will pursue his principles unto death.</sup>

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[Hades//Dionysus]

Fashionably as always, Dionysus came to the party, already drinking. Drugs had been taken to give him courage to return to his former home. He had drained his home of anything that wasn't wine because that took time and energy to produce. so it was fairly safe to say that by time Dion got to the scene he was feeling better than even the best of souls. Nothing anyone could say or do would be bringing him down. He was bullet proof and was feeling brave enough to tell each ad every god and goddess exactly what he happened to think about them. Though that really wasn't a good sign was it? He knew he should have just stayed at home.

But he was there now. Dressed in a wine red shirt and white dress pants of all things. The outfit was somehow childish and fitting for him him all at once. Not that he had any faith in the party. It was a party of gods. A party not even he wanted to attend, which would surely end with blood shed since if he didn't care to attend it was a damn good sign that he wasn't favouring something about it. So he would just play nice, keep up a false cheeriness until it leaked through the party like a deadly poison leaving everyone drunk and miserable. Then, when that moment finally came about, he would leave.

For goodness sakes, he didn't even actually head into the party. Just kind of wandered around it, sipping at something he was keeping a flask,. More drug laced courage? Damn straight. But that was gone rather fast, leaving him with the smallest of highs. It would last maybe a good ten or fifteen minutes. Funny to think that it was enough to kill quite a few mortals. But since it was gone, he headed into the party where he continued to wander about aimlessly, not really bothering with much talk. No, he just wanted to go back to New York and sleep off this terrible experience.

Or he might be able to cause trouble. He'd learned quite a bit about that from Hermes and Hera and Demeter seemed quite tiffed at each other. Darn stick shakers. Oh no, not even that was making him happy. Rolling his eyes angrily, he walked over to the two goddesses, his main target being Hera. "Aw, someone seems like they may need a hug." He said as he placed an arm around Hera's shoulder, smiling as innocently as he could despite the evil plan forming in his head.

Getting hurt by another god? A few months of his life. Getting banned from Olympus? A few years of his life. Annoying the tar out of the wonderful Hera? Priceless.

[Demeter;;]

In all truth and honesty, Demeter no longer wanted to continue the conversation. She tried to ignore her comments, drowning the last of her wine. She fingered the slender glass cup, watching the array of rainbow colors dancing in it when the light shone directly upon it. After she was sure her ears hadn't deceived her, she looked back up a her sister, gaze held steady and strong. It was defiant, but she showed that she didn't much care and she had dropped the subject at all.

"I haven't forgotten who you are at all, sister. You are Hera, a Goddess, and Queen of the Immortals. I know, and yet I continue to talk. You can not change my thoughts or opinions, obviously, and so I do not take that as a threat or anything else at all. Merely a reminder perhaps, but I correct you, I don't tend to forget." She smiled at her now, green eyes still twinkling with innocence and care. She turned away as the same servant came to pick up her glass, and she gently gave it to him before turning back to add, "Oh, and I didn't know you cared about how other people look. If I look so ridiculous, why would a Queen be talking to a fool like me?"

She searched her face for some emotion at this, and when she was satisfied, she smoothed out her clothes and clasped her hands. She listened to the news that Hera offered, nodding stiffly. "Oh, how very thoughtful of them. I'm glad others are doing well then. As for me, the mortal world is extremely boring, but I enjoy spending time there if it means I can watch mortals sink lower and lower. They get more distant as we speak from us, and look at us now, we are both enjoying a conversation at a lovely party." She gave a tinkling laugh at this, eyes now dancing gleefully with her amusement. She looked out onto the others and the carriages that were still here, wondering who might come and who wouldn't. It seemed like she had been the only one welcomed, if that's what you called their little chat.

"I really do pity them, only thinking about themselves and no compassion for others. Especially those awful men, always cheating and shaming their wives and lovers." She shook her head with a deep frown, brow furrowed at the thought. She simply despised those creatures, those men. Ugly wretches that they were, didn't even care an ounce about a woman's rights. She looked back at Hera curiously, her voice bitter now from the thoughts going in her head. "You really should keep an eye on them, make sure they don't do anything foolish like they always do. I think I'll pay a visit to Aphrodite as well, if she isn't already busy doing whatever she does, and tell her to help stop the nonsense they inflict."

Tsk, tsk. Mortals these days. She looked at Hera, wondering what kind of possible reaction she would have to this sudden twist in subject. Demeter just loved to ramble on about certain things, whether it was her dislikes or her absolute favorites. She planned to talk about them, whether the listener liked it or not. With a sigh, she once again continued, hoping she was leaving enough space for a reply at least. Oh well, she wasn't sure if she wanted to even hear Hera speak up now. It was better if the lot of them were quiet without putting in a comment of disagreement or a bad input.

"I really do like to mess around with mortals. Punish the men, comfort the woman, see the children. It's nice spending time there, seeing how oblivious they are to what's going around. That the very Gods are walking in their world, and perhaps they had talked to them!" She laughed heartily at this, an image in her mind of an earlier event. "May I ask what you have been up to lately, whether in the mortal world or not?"

She inquired this curiously, intent on Hera now, and relaxing more and more. Perhaps she would stay at this party after all. She looked at Dion appreciatively, even though she didn't like any males or Gods really. She nodded stiffly in greeting.