This really is a boring party. Full of smug, complacent immortals with nothing better to do than mingle with each other and tell the same old boring stories over and over. Little do they know with whom they are sharing this room.
I keep the smile from my face with easy control. Since I've been absorbing power, everything has gotten easier. I speculate sometimes if this is how Zeus got started. What a puffed up, self-important little god he is. Dear Father, how I shall enjoy ripping away all of your power. Crushing you beneath my feet into small particles of earth after I have drained every last drop of power. I savor the thought of what I'll do with him when I've gained control over my last element.
Shaking my head slightly, I take a deep breath to center myself and let go of the rage. I probably should leave this little soiree and get some rest. The delicious meal I had this morning and the effort it took to transport all that energy to my secret place has rather depleted me.
I smile fondly at Astraea, the goddess of justice. Wouldn't she just have a cow if she knew how I was contravening all the laws of Olympus? And speaking of cows, here's the head cow herself, the queen of the gods, Hera. Oh, she's so gracious to me, regally nodded her head and acknowledging my presence. I smile shyly back and she stops for a few words of encouragement about my recent loss.
How dare she mock my pain? I control the desire to wring her scrawny throat until she collapses and manage a small sad sigh thanking her for her sympathy. What does she know of loss and suffering? Soon, though, soon enough she will feel all the pain I have felt and more. Just like the silly mortals this morning who welcomed me into their home and lived for long hours to regret it. The mother, especially for such an ignorant woman, had been a vast reservoir of energy. The torture and death of each child had brought such delightful fear and suffering.
I push the thoughts of revenge away and move into a less populated corner so I can watch the other gods make fools of themselves. That ridiculous mortal dancing with Terpsichore had all the goddesses wetting themselves. Ares was glowering at them from his corner and I want to send out a small tendril of power to taste his jealousy but I refrain. It would taste so sweet, I'm sure.
My eyes move constantly, watching who's with whom. In the coming battle, I'll need to know who's an ally and who's the enemy. Not many allies since they are so content. We haven't had a major conflict in decades, they've gotten soft and weak. Easily controlled. My gaze strays back to Ares. Except for the god of war. Even at a party his aura of power is strong.
Such strength and grace in his movements. He's been the strongest of us until now. When I absorb his power, it will be sweet indeed. He's watching the mortal again and Aphrodite has joined him. Such a fragile beauty, so easily spoiled. She won't even make a mouthful when I rip her elements from her frail body and explode her into dust.
But Ares, ah-h-h, he will be a banquet of pleasure. A new thought occurs to me and I contemplate the mortal who is now sporting with the Muses. If there is a real attachment between them, how delicious it would be to first take the little paramour and taste him first.
Stripping him, then binding him and hanging him like a slab of beef. Then bringing in all my little toys and explaining them to his, no doubt wide eyed, dismay. I'd start out slowly, tracing all those lovely nerves with the red hot poker, making him jerk and mewl with pain. Then, the stiletto, just barely pressing along that lovely white skin, turning it red with a thousand slits and tears.
He'd be pissing himself with terror and the emotions would be rolling off him like sweet nectar. How delicious. I can make this part last for a very long time when the subject's heart is strong. His looks to be in good shape. I speculate on whether I'd use the needles on him. Placing them just there and there, my eyes trace his body. Yes-s-s, that would give exquisite pain and release yet more energy into my waiting hands.
What in the world? I watch in amused detachment as Ares throws the young man over his shoulder and disappears. The rumors, it seems, are true. Ares really does feel something for the mortal. Enough to be jealous, anyway. How delightful! Almost arousing even. Another pawn in this intricate chess game I'm playing with the gods.
What was his name?
Joxer. I must remember that.
End part nine