To Swear On Styx

Chapter Twelve: We All Watch The News

Playlist Part Twelve:

Blood Upon the Snow - Hozier, Bear McCreary

~*~

Truthfully, Kronos hadn't been quite honest with Percy. Rather, it was more like 'Primordials to terrorize, mortals to ignore completely.' Sure, if Thanatos had been cooperative, like Pontus, Thalassa, Oureus, and Ananke all had been, then maybe he could've just gone to see Thanatos, but, no. As per usual, Death was anything but easy.

Prior to leaving, he'd taken the liberty of sharpening Thanatos' sword, and gave it a few experimental swings before sheathing it in a nice leather scabbard Percy'd left on the dresser. That was what their relationship had regressed to- pettily stealing each other's things. Kronos would be remiss if he hadn't noticed Percy wearing one of his own chitons just the other day, although it might've simply been a product of the younger's seemingly chronic tiredness. Who knew, with Percy.

After spending a bit longer than necessary teasing Percy, he'd figured he had stalled enough, and flashed himself to where he'd last sensed Thanatos' entirely annoying presence. Southern Alaska. An irritating little town by the name of Ketchikan, to be specific.

It was March, meaning that despite the fact it was late morning, it was still completely dark out. Which- it was fitting. He was searching for the embodiment of Death, after all. The fact that he could scarcely see three feet in front of him as he trekked away from the main road and off into the woods was beyond appropriate for the situation.

The snow was thick on the ground, nearly up to his knees, and Kronos tsked, irked, as he pressed further into the overgrowth. Thanatos was close; he could feel the Primordial's energy, hanging in the air, clinging to the dark brown bark of the pine trees stretching up, far, far above him.

A dryad, who had been reclined against the roots of her tree, let out a yelp as Kronos stepped into view, disappearing in a puff of chlorophyll-green mist and retreating back into the safety of her maple. Unbothered, Kronos carried on.

The blade of his adamantine scythe emitted a soft greenish glow, and he held it out in front of him, his gold eyes flickering through the trees, latching onto any movement before jerking away, onto the next thing that caught his attention.

Thanatos was a tricky, wily sort of entity. He snuck up on you, breathing down your neck and catching you by surprise. It was the type of thing Kronos knew himself to be good at, which meant he hated it when other gods excelled at what was supposed to be his specialty. He was the Crooked One, not Thanatos, and certainly not anybody else.

Growing slightly aggravated, Kronos drew to a stop. His breath fogged out in front of him, and, after a moment of silence, he let out a yell, drawing Thanatos' sword and slashing it in a wide arc. Raw Primordial power erupted out from its blade, thrumming through the air in thick waves that had Kronos gritting his teeth and squinting his eyes. His arm shook, and he resisted the urge to sheath the weapon. "THANATOS!" He roared, giving up on the element of surprise out of pure irritation, his voice carrying into the pitch black. "I THANK YOU FOR THE GIFT!"

From behind him, he heard a 'tch', and he spun around, swinging the blade viciously, it's eerie light casting creeping shadows upon Thanatos' dark skin. The god of death had slunk out of the gloom, leaving not so much as a mark upon the snow's surface. He had a sour look on his face, his brown eyes glaring down at the sword in Kronos' hand.

After a beat, Thanatos gestured at the sword, the black robes he wore rippling as he moved. "That would be mine, youngling." He reached forward then, his fingers outstretched as if to stroke the black blade, but Kronos shifted his arm back at the last second. Thanatos' hand remained still for a moment, before dropping back down to his side. His wings ruffled in annoyance, his brow creased.