open post | 3 | general

[meerkats]

 

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[monthly]

3 PM, a phone-call from Ananke's people. Not the Fates themselves, they never called, instead opting to send Liam cryptic texts or mail that would arrive barely in time, because the fates aren't in the business of giving warning. It was Ananke's minder, Heather, calling to let him know that Chronos and Ananke would cross paths again at the Tuilleries on the 15th, and go have lunch. To tell him that he should pencil in the inevitable, so no one's schedules are particularly disrupted by it.

Fucking Gods, taking their responsibilities to damn literally.

He hangs up on her without so much as a proper goodbye, another inevitability, and taps off the ash from his cigarette as he pencils it in. The 15th. A day where everyone within 200 miles of them will feel the weight of the inevitable passing of time sitting on their shoulders morosely while two relatively chipper old souls have crepes.

He gets back to his other paper work, bills to pretend to pay for their flat and notices from other gods. Requests for more time, reminders of punishments with less. A prayer on paper begging for more time to repay a debt, forwarded from Zeus with a note from his minder to cut the time in half. Bills, junk mail, a post-card from that zoo in Taiwan who, out of the goodness of his heart Chronos has gifted with a temporarily unaging tiger for their rehabilitation program.

And then a text from Ananke herself, reminding him that he would need to find Chronos a proper apprentice minder soon, he couldn't remain as he was forever. Fuck off.

He sighs, putting out his cigarette and standing from his creaking chair to get a beer from the fridge. If he's learned anything in the last 40 years it's that it's always 5 o'clock somewhere. He pops open the top of the bottle and looks around the sparse kitchen, through the doorway to the unnecessarily modernist living room. Where the hell was Chronos, anyway?