━━━━━━ 𝒔𝒆𝒂 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒏𝒆𝒅
〔 greek mythology 〕
━━━━━━ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ SYNOPSIS
The life of thievery, chaos, and fun was the perfect life for Matthias. Robbing banks, ransacking museums, he threw awa...
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✧﹕Κανένας κλέφτης δεν μπορεί να είναι ήρωας
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LITTLE MATTY STARED at the goldfish his mother had bought him. His mother had got it for him when he was six, after she noticed him getting lonely from time to time. It was a peculiar little thing that looked like it was always angry. Grumpy and energetic, always swimming in circles in its little fish bowl, and oftentimes 'glaring' at Matty.
Matty had named it 'Scrooge'. His mother had laughed at him for it, kissing his forehead and patting his head as the goldfish soon became his best friend. It was difficult for Matty, as he was always so insistent in bringing his goldfish everywhere. His mother had reluctantly let him take it to his room, settle the fishbowl on the nightstand as he slept.
Scrooge was Matty's best friend. He absolutely adored that fish. Course, his mom had a mangy cat too, but the fish and cat got along well... kinda. Anyways—little Matty was possessive of that damn fish.
If one of his friends or cousins came over and tried to mess with his fish, it was always met with Matthias almost attacking them. It was a well-known rule in the Stavros Household that touching Matthias's fish was forbidden. Prohibited. Nevermind that. Matty still loved his grumpy scrooge.
When he was seven, his fish died.
His bastard of an uncle flushed it down the drain and had him watch.
Ever since then, officially hated every man that had some sort of familial relationship with him. The men in his family were trash.
─────
"Poseidon," his venomous tone did not go unnoticed by the rest of the gods.
Poseidon—especially—was quite startled. That was a given. The last time he's even remotely interacted with Matthias was when the little heathen was an infant. Human memory did not last that long, but certain emotions made some last for as long as possible. In Matthias's case, resentment and hatred were the reason why Poseidon's voice was etched into his brain, forcing him to recognize it the moment he heard.
Those very same eyes that were perfect reflections of his own softened. Their darkness and stern sheen faded, replaced by something like paternal affection and concern. Disgusting.
