Snippet #1475062

Alright Eos, stay calm. You're just overthinking this. the odd trio walked across Alpha with a distance surrounding them. It was much too obvious that they were not of 'proper' stock. An estranged look here, a sneer there, although not particularly dauntng they added up. Eventually even the man who sent other scurrying back into their holes with a glance was writhing under his skin--and the scrutiny. Thankfully, Pandora led them to the palace in short order. The guard at the door irked Eos some more, the audacious woman making Pandora squirm.

Inside, familiar scents and sights hit him much harder than he would have thought. So many memories came flooding back, images coming to mind unbidden. Too many. Taking up the rear of their little procession Eos took a shuddering breath and squeezed his hands into tight fists. Don't think about it. The past is the past. It wouldn't have happened that way if it wasn't meant to be. somehow that felt hypocritical. At this very moment he was using an old teaching that his master had repeated several times when the younger Eos came back from a failed mission.

Now, a bit of wisdom he had repressed through binge drinking and lazing about in a drunken haze for the past several years was helping to cope with the death of some whom the person who had taught said wisdom basically killed. Irony. It's a bitch sometimes, Eos thought sullenly. Dark thoughts began creeping past the inner mantra the Hand tried to shield his mind with, threatening to absorb Eos in a self-depricating stupor once more when they stopped walking. Eos didn't realize this until he bumped into Icarus. "Sorry," the taciturn man said while looking around the room.

Odd to meet people here, he thought. Nobles usually preferred small rooms with overly large tables, conspiratorial papers stack high and half-naked young boys serving exotic foods. Well, they could always tear off Icarus's shirt and fill that position. Despite the depraved notion it actually made Eos snicker. Still taking in his surroundings, Eos almost cried out when he saw the freakishly masked man from the clinic sitting not too far away. More inspection would have been warranted but the unsettling body language Icarus expressed led him to believe he was uncomfortable with...something...the fact that he separated himself from their lady companion attested to at least one of these factors.

So, the darker skinned of the three took his seat inbetween Pandora and Icarus. Or, at least he would have, if his eyes weren't glued to who else sat at the table. The girl from prison. Little queen in training...still looked too much like Minerva for anything but contempt, yet she did save him from a possible hanging or numerous rounds of torture. That meant something at least. Yet it was not the princess who warranted his rapt attention. It was the cleanly-dressed blight of a man at Loki's side. Eos froze, taking time to do something he rarely did when faced with an obstacle: Think.

That lasted all of two seconds before the former Hand of Tartarus snapped. Reaching back, Eos caught the back of the heavy oaken chair in a white-knuckle grip and sent it sailing across the table towards Amon with seemingly effortless ease. Eos leapt on to the table after it, completely ignoring all other guests in the room and making a mad dash for the bastard who had destroyed what pittance of a life he had shared with Selene. Two feet from the edge the pugilist vaulted into the air to bring down his heel in a vicious kick that would splinter wood and bone alike, aiming to shatter Amon Gregory's ribs in a gory mess.