Competitions. Hades rolls his eyes, sagging slightly in his seat. Another idiotic activity that everybody owes to Mr If I Can’t Win I’ll Smite Thee. Does anyone expect normal behaviour from himbthese days anyway? Hades has no logical qualms with Hera and Aphrodite going at it, but Athena the Smartass? Out there giving women a bad name cause everyone thinks this is women are all about? Why oh why has Zeus blessed him not only with this lovely office but also dumbass nieces and nephews.
“Is it that himbo from Troy who only gets by thanks to his looks? Do they really think he has enough brain up there to judge anything, ever?”
The gods have stooped low, low indeed. Humans now judge them, like some drunk merchant chooses from a row of virginal slaves. The divine propensity to fuck with the lower class has been getting on Hades’ nerves for quite a while by now.
“It’s gonna be Aphrodite anyway, have you seen her new nosejob?”
His flames flaring red for an instance and then returning to their usual blue, Hades summons a goblet of wine and downs it all at once. The cup hits the floor, rattles and rolls across the marble slabs.
“Anyway, I want you to contact Hephaestus. The imps have broken a few mechanisms, I need a fix asap, because the Fates have predicted a war. And tell Hephaestus what his wife is up to these days.”
“I figure if’n brains marked any part of this competition, it would’ve gone in a very different direction,” Hermes drawls. Athena aside -- and she usually marks a much more intelligent body’n what was displayed at the little competition-- Hermes couldn’t believe folks didn’t see the ploy for what it is. Mayhap ‘cause he marks himself something of a trickster and always appreciative of a good jest, but once he heard the rumors that Eris had some influence over what happened, then he isn’t surprised to hear the results.
Nodding along a little to the question though, he adjusts the strap of his bag holding his messages on his shoulder. “Yeah, Paris of Troy’s set to make the decision, and wool for brains if ever their marked a fellow.”
How on earth he became the one to make such a ruling, Hermes can’t even begin to guess, and usually the gods is s’pposed to be knowing such things. Well, the result is gonna provide h’entertainment anyhow, and keep him busy too, sure as certain.
Watching as the Lord of the Underworld cycle through his tempers, one brow arched as the goblet rolls its way across the marble floor, he finds his attention drawn back from the rolling bit of a glitter at the reminder of a job needing doing.
“Hephaestus, yeah, yeah,” Hermes says, summoning a bit of scroll to jot down the message ‘bout imps and machinery ‘fore giving the god a look over the scroll. “If you’re thinking he ain’t already knowing, then you ain’t knowing Hephaestus.” The bloke marks as suspicious as he is crooked, neither being particularly his fault, but it makes him ‘bout as cheerful as Hades.
Hermes grins toothily. “The juiciest gossip travels even faster’n me sometimes.”