*label choose PROPERTY OF: PRISCILLA M. ANGELIS *fake_choice #Journal #1: May 24th, 1987 to January 21st, 1988 May 24th, 1987 Gran got me a diary for the big One-Six, even though I specifically recall asking for a car. "Beggers can't be choosers, and if they were they wouldn't be beggers," is what she told me. And she wonders where I get my mouth from. I'll probably never write in this. To be completely transparent, my life just isn't exciting enough to transcript. *page_break Next entry October 16th, 1987 Gran died. I should have told her about that dream I had. It was far too real to be anything less than a warning, a prenotion. I was just too scared. I saw my own grandmother's death and I was expected to contnue on with my life, to accept what I've seen? I could barely sleep after that dream. I can't help be wonder if I would have been able to stop it if I had fixed the creaky stair like she asked me to all those weeks ago. If I had been home when I knew she would fall. If I had told her to tread with caution. I didn't do any of that. I looked her in the eyes this morning and said, "See you later." But I knew I wouldn't see her again. I am a terrible person. *page_break Next entry November 11th, 1987 The dreams have come back. I dreamt that the principle would get hit by a drunk driver Friday night, and he did. Now he's in intensive care. I dreamt that an earthquake in LA would kill three people, and the news reported it just days after. I even dreamt that Fiji would be declared a republic, and now it's in all the headlines. Sometimes, I even get these short..."visions" when I'm awake. It feels like someone's clawing away at the side of my brain. I don't know what to do. *page_break Next entry November 21st, 1987 There is a man that visits me every night. He stands under my window and doesn't say a word, but I know what he wants. He shines, too, and he knows this. Even when I close my eyes I see his bright light through my lids, persuading me to leave the safety of my house. I don't like the way he feels; like greed and ambition and desperation, the crux of mankind. He calls himself Zeus. Every night, he asks me what I see, and I tell him. Every night, he asks me how I feel, and I tell him. Every night, he asks me to come with him, and I tell him to go to hell. I'm going to run. I think he knows I will. I think he wants me to. *page_break Next entry *goto choose January 21st, 1988 These days, no one has smiles that reach their eyes. I have a crick in my neck from long nights spent on shabby buses, and at this point, cities blur together like flipping postcards. I miss my Gran so badly it's manifested into a physical ache, but I know I lost the right to mourn when I let her die. I know he knows where to find me. He's letting me wear myself out. Still, I welcome the punishment with open arms; this torture must count as repenting for my sins. *page_break Return to journals *goto choose #Journal #2: May 31st, 1989 to January 17th, 1991. May 31st, 1989 I am nineteen, and in land of the Gods, or better known as the land of the Tyrants. I have met all twelve of the Council, which is what they call themselves in these modern times. It's ridiculous; the way I see it, a wolf can call itself a sheep, but it'd still be a wolf. Athena is my favorite, but that doesn't mean much, considering I'd sell any one of the Gods for a soggy loaf of bread. Still, she never asks how I feel in an attempt to pacify me, like Aphrodite. She doesn't try to intimidate me into complacency like Ares or Hera, nor does she try to befriend me like Demeter or Hermes. But I don't trust her, and I don't need a vision to warn me not to...there's something in her eyes. There is a fine line between ambition and greed, and she stands wavering in the middle. I have also had the "honor" of personally meeting the Trinity; Zeus, the man who shines, Poseidon, the one they call balanced, and Hades, the "kind" God. Zeus thinks he has some semblance of claim over me. He has never outright said so, but the way he watches me and talks of me expresses the notion enough. Hera is not pleased with his attatchment, but she rarely is. A few days ago, I had a vision of her attempting to seduce Zeus to little success. What she doesn't know is that while Zeus loves her, he already has her, which is why he doesn't want her. Poseidon is a strange man, and I've met far too many strange men in my life to care enough to find out why. Even the visions I have about him are off-puting; a siren, a lost child and an aching hunger for peace. Sometimes he smiles at me, and I mistake him for a person. And Hades...he is too mortal, and not enough god. He's wasting away, and he thinks no one notices. I see it in my visions, when he sits and speaks to Persephone, who doesn't understand, but lies and says she does. He's looking for someone or something, but I can never figure out who or what it is. On the bright(er) side, I have a mentor of sorts; Gothel, the Great Prophet. The people of Olympus, and even the gods themselves treasure her like one would a golden key. She opens doors, and on Olympus, that is prized above all else. She is cold, assuming, and ruthless. I trust her. *page_break Next entry January 16th, 1991 Gothel has passed away, but at least this time it was her who had the vision of her demise, and not me. She says that prophet's cannot see their death until it is close, nor can they see another prophet's death. As she laid dying, her eyes dulling by the second, she told me three things about my fate, and a single piece of advice. The first thing she told me was that I was doomed to fall in love with a god, and destined to capture the hearts of two others. She told me that the consequences that followed would be devastating. The second thing she told me was that I would have two children with those gods, and that one of the children would be the incarnation of the Essence. The third was that I would only hold each of my children once. When I asked Gothel about the predictions, I was panicked, and felt a sickening sense of dread; this would be my life, whether I liked it or not. Before she took her last breath, she gave me a final piece of advice; "Run." The sun shines mercilessly today. I know Gothel must be up there, patronizing every angel in Heaven. *page_break Next entry January 17th, 1991 Now, I am the one they call the Great Prophet. The gods had clothed me in silk robes and outlandish furs, placed a lei on my head, had me swear allegience to them. Then they locked me away in a tower. I kid you not, I live in a tower. It is a beautiful thing, no doubt only built with such fine detail to distract me from the fact that it is my prison. I have been on Olympus for two years. Don't they think I would have attempted to leave by now, if ever? My role is simple; when I have any visions of signifigance, especially in relation to the gods, I write it down as quickly as possible, and report it to Hermes, who arranges consultation. I still don't trust him, but it may be my aversion to anyone who never fails to have a smile on their face. He is eternally chipper, and something tugs inside me when I have visions regarding his brilliant smile. Most days, I go to the Gods and citizens, telling them what I see. Other days, they summon me themselves. I am scheduled to visit each of the Trinity within the year, and Gothel's warnings are still fresh in my mind. I want to guard my heart with an iron wall. *page_break Return to journals *goto choose #Journal #3: January 17th, 1991 to June 21, 1991 (incomplete.) *goto choose #Return to main options. *goto_scene startup *comment May 24th, 1991 I turned twenty-one. The production was absurd. A parade through the entire city, every citizen, Demigod, mortal, and otherwise were invited. Balloons, confetti, lines of crowds that went on for miles, music...and there were gifts, of course. Athena gave me an envelope, and when I opened it, my grandmother's face stared back at me, a kind smile taking over her features in every picture. I have decided to avoid Athena from now on. She makes me remember things I'm better off forgetting, and she does it without regret, something resembling satisfaction in the lines of her face each and every time. Poseidon gave me a necklace. It's beautiful, if I have to admit that much; the main piece is a polished sea shell, and the strap is a rough, course leather. I keep it under my pillow, but on days I want to feel wanted, I tie it around my neck and tuck it under my robes until it is only a bump under the silk. Zeus gave me a promise. He led me into the throne room and asked me what I wanted most in the world. I suppose that was his way of showing affection. I told him that when I wanted to leave Olympus, he'd let me, without question or survelliance. He said no, naturally. So, I revised my request; when the gods deemed my servitude fufilled, they would let me go, and only Zeus would ensure that I would be left to my own devices. That, he agreed to. Then, he did the strangest thing; he held my hand, and told me that I wouldn't want to leave, so he had nothing to worry about. That poor, delusional god. Hades gave me a book. It was filled with poems of every author I obsessed over when I was younger and still had dreams. I found it infuritating when I began to tear up. The King of the Underworld asked me if it was truly that terrible of a present, and I laughed. If I'm being hoenst, the laughter was more appreciated than anything else. Persephone also gave me a gift of sorts; a plot of land in her mother's domain. Hundreds of thousands of my favorite flowers laid beautiful and fully bloomed, arranged to spell out my name. Sadly, after a few minutes in the intoxicating garden, I began to hate the smell of roses and honeysuckles with a seething passion. I don't think I'll ever forgive her for that. -------- June 21, 1991 I thought I had lost this journal, but then I had a vision that I found it behind a dusty bookshelf. At least this curse is good for something. Yesterday, my "consultation" with Zeus, my permanent shadow, had come up. I suppose Zeus and I have an agreement of sorts based on mutual wariness. I act civil, and he does not insult my intelligence by lying to me, which I suppose must take an incredible amount of willpower on his part. For some reason, he trusts me more than most. Let me indulge something about Zeus; he is as simple as they come. He has maybe one big goal, and a few other small desires. He knows who he is, and what he stands for. He wants power, at any cost, and will do anything to attain it. He is not coy about his morality; it's simply nonexistant. And most importantly, he knows his fellow gods would sooner stab him in the back than follow him into danger. This is why he is king. We rarely spoke after I recited my visions; drama within the Council, ambitious minor gods with thoughts of rebelling, rogue Demigods causing havoc. When I was done, he offered me coffee--which he must assume mortals would sell a limb for--and after I declined, he had the audacity to look offended. He said, "Lady prophet, I apologize for my forwardness, but I believe it'd be best for you to stay and rest." I told him, "No thank you, my divine," that is what I must call them, if you can believe that absurdity. "I have plenty to do, and I want to get it done as qucikly as possible." He argued, "I think you should rest. It's in your best interest." I said, "I'll rest when I'm dead, my divine. I said no." I don't think people say no to him very often, and that fills me with an immense sense of pride to be one of the few to do so. -------- June 21, 1991 Today I visited Poseidon. I told the Sea God of an earthquake he would cause to stop a hoard of demons in the Middle East next fall. He asked me why I'd warn him of something so ordinary, and I informed him that although the hoard would be dealt with, the damage done to the citizens and their homes would be substantial. He asked me, "Would you rather have citizens carried off into the night by demons or killed in an earthquake?" I told him, "Neither, of course. That's a ridiculous question." As I said, the god is strange, but he does have a pleasant aura to him. Zeus is bright by necessity, as a way to show his power. Poseidon is bright by nature; he can, and so he does. Simple. But, on the negative side of things, the Sea God has decided that we must be "friends." Because of that simple word, I dread the next time I have a vision involving him. His eyes are too forgiving, and I do not deserve to be forgiven. -------- June 23rd, 1991 Earlier, the Queen of the Underworld, Persephone, escorted me into her and Hades' domain. Their home is not as I'd imagined; it's brightly lit and colorful and reeks of flora. Persephone is an enigma, but I suppose she'd have to be interesting enough to catch the eye of the subdued king. She speaks in airy tones, and every move she makes flows like water. She's an interesting person to be around, but after every encounter, you feel drained, as if she's sucked the very life out of you to supplement her own. Hades, the mortal God, did not show up until an hour after our arranged time. When he did, Persephone's entire being lit up even more, if possible. She and Hades make sense; they both flow the same way. Their aura's aren't identical, but they are both a deep, rich color. Where Hades is pure black, Persephone is velvet purple. When Persephone left, I told Hades of my visions. Hundreds dead in an avanlanche, murders across the state of Chicago, and the earthquake Poseidon would cause that would lead to more souls falling to the Underworld, against my warning. The god found that last part interesting. "You told him not to create the earthquake?" he had asked. I told him yes, and only after I admited it did I realize it was the first time I had predicted something terrible and tried to stop it. A long time ago, after Gran's death, I had resolved not to interfere with fate. Gothel taught me that every prophet must realize that fate has its own paths and reasoning, and any interferance will only muddle it. If there is no fate, then there is no order, and all will fall. "Why?" Hades had asked. The mortal God does not have a quiet voice, but no matter who you are, you will lean in to hear what he has to say. I told him that I had not thought clearly, and that I should not have interfered with fate. "Fate isn't always as it should be. If you could stop something terrible from happening, wouldn't you?" "No, I wouldn't," I answered. "And I never do." "Are you at peace with yourself?" he asked, eyes narrowing. I hated him at that moment. A burning, ugly feeling had burst into my chest. Who did he think he was, to ask such an invasive question? How could anyone live with themselves knowing horrible acts would ooccur but do nothing to stop them? Was he trying to remind me of what a terrible person I was? Did my misery entertain him? I threw those accusations at him, and he said nothing to deny them. We sat in silence for far too long for it to mean nothing. He said nothing when I cried, and I was greatful that he did not attempt to comfort me. But in all honesty, I don't think he knew how. -------- July 3rd, 1991 (I haven't had a vision regarding Zeus in weeks. Strangely enough, he hasn't called upon me in some time either. I would be thankful for either of these turn of events had I not seen the way he glances at me during sundown feasts.)(I haven't had a vision regarding Hades in weeks, but I have had many regarding the other members of the council. I even dreamt of Aphrodite losing an earring, for Gods sake.)(I haven't had a vision regarding Poseidon in weeks. He's not one to call upon me like a minor servant, nor is he brash enough to visit me. I find myself wearing the necklace he gave me more often.) It's not that I'm eager to see the god again. I'm just curious, is all. -------- September 3rd, 1091 Poseidon took me to see the sirens exhibit their mating calls, and I was sweating bullets the entire time, my eyes shifty. That was an attempt at subliminal messaging, wasn't it? Oh, Christ. -------- November 8th, 1991 Zeus' paranoia has reached an all time high. Sometimes, I'm able to pacify him by reciting visions, but other times, he acuses me of lying to cover up some grand scheme. And what scheme could that be, oh Mighty King of Kings? The nefarious plot to rid the world of Bisquick by ignoring the vision I had of the company going bankrupt? Quick, someone, lock me up! (Please.) -------- December 20th, 1991 I finally had a vision of Hades in my sleep last night; there are stirings in Tartarus. They may be nothing, but they may also be something. Surely that permits a meeting? In other news, Zeus has allowed me to visit the Daliph next week; it turns out that mortals are not compltely blind to the workings of the gods...especially mortals with political power. The Daliph's daughter will run off with a boy from the country within the next month, though she's engaged to a prince from a wealthy neighboring country. Though I won't tell the Daliph or Zeus that. Let the girl run. Not everyone can. -------- December 21st, 1991 I am finally rotting. When I arrived to tell Hades of my vision, Persephone was not there. Instead, it was Hades that greeted me. It was then that I felt my heart betray me. Either that, or I was exhibiting signs of early heart disease. I told him of the vision I had of Tartarus. Even then, I had a hard time recalling what I saw. It was movemenet from something that should not move. Sounds from neighboring demons, answering a call I could not hear. If Hades was concerned, his face did not show it. Though, his face rarely did show much. I took a moment to study it while he was lost in thought. He was all fine lines and precise angels, a statue of smooth porceline. I suppose I should have found his face attractive, but I found it offputting. How could I tell if he was lying? Upset? Happy? He should look worse, I had thought. On the inside, I knew how jumbled he was. It was a terrible thing; I knew of his fears and his hopes and his feeling of loneliness, but he knew nothing of what I knew. So I told him. I told him about how Persephone didn't understand him, but she wanted to. I told him how Zeus worries how easily Hades wins the hearts of others, and he watches him. I told him of how imbalanced Poseidon truly is, and how easily he could turn into Zeus without Hades' guidance. I told him how I spent the last months hoping I would have a vision of him again. I angered him at that point. But I pressed on. I asked him to invite me again, not as the Great Prophet, but as a friend. He very politely asked me to leave, and I wanted to scream. -------- March 3rd, 1992 Hera visited me tonight. She asked me why Zeus didn't love her, and I made something up. I told her I had a vision of him lusting after a mortal woman, too blinded by the pursuit to notice anyone else around him. She cried in my arms, and I imagined her tears were my own. It was only after she left that I realized the vision I made up might not have been as far fetched as I thought. The king still watches me. -------- May 14th, 1992 My birthday is fast approaching, and I've succumbed to loneliness and began speaking to Athena again. Unlike everyone else, she doesn't ask me for predictions; she speaks to me of her plans, her desire to take the throne of Olympus away from her father, and more than anything, all her heroes. Not that she looks up to anyone but herself, mind you, but the literal Heroes she's met. Odysseus, Hercules, Archymon...great heroes throughout history. I asked her why she was so fond of them, and she told me, "They're like shooting stars; they burn so brightly, but for such a short amount of time. To even be in their presence is an honor. I love them all, Priscilla." She is the only person who calls me Priscilla, and for some reason, I allow it. I want to tell her the vision I had of her death, months ago. Gods don't "die", of course, but they can be put into a slumber so deep, almost nothing can awaken them. These slumbers last millenias, and with how quickly the world changes, they might as well be dead. I know how she will die, and I find myself wanting to stop it. But as usual, I don't. When the urge arises, I bite my tongue until it draws blood. -------- May 24th 1992 I am twenty-two. There was another parade, this one bigger than the last, if that's even possible. The gifts and songs and parties came again, but I'll spare you the details. This day is only worth noting because of what happened when the sun fell. It was only when I was allowed to retire to my room, despite Zeus's insistance that the celebrations were not over until precisley 12:00 PM, that I saw the note. I found Hades in my neglected garden, the one that was giften to me by his wife exactly a year prior. I didn't say a word, but neither did he. We watched the sky darken, and I listened to the sound of wind chimes in the distance. When Hades finally spoke, he asked, "Are you at peace with yourself?" I have one mirror in my room, and I avoid it most days. I suppose I have to confront myself someday, but that day will be my last one on earth. I know that when I finally look at myself, I will not like what I see. Hades didn't urge me to answer when I replied with silence. I reached out and grabbed his hand. It was cold and smooth, but his heartbeat was steady. He didn't tell me to let go. And so I held on. -------- August 1st 1992 We meet frequently. We talk and he lets me hold his hand, but he never holds mine. But that's fine with me. I should feel guilty, but I don't. I am still rotting, but slowler now. -------- February 6th, 1993 I had a vision about you. I have been using "you" as a broad pronoun, but now I know that I've been writing to my children this entire time. In my vision, you are nothing but tiny things in my arms. There are candels all around us, and I have tears staining my face. You are both so beautiful. Though it must seem egotistical of me, considering you have nothing of your father in your features. Thank god. -------- June 29th, 1993 Grief is a strange thing. It does not want to sit beside you; it wants to consume you whole. I had a vision of you again, but this one was much further into the future than the last; you are on your knees and praying. I do not know to which God you are begging forgiveness to, but I hope the blood staining your clothes is not yours. Someone lays a hand on your shoulder and you turn. I can see your face, and yes, you take my breath away every single time. But you too are consumed by grief and guilt. I'd hate to think you've inherited that from me, but that is wishful thinking. -------- April 12th, 1995 I have done things, subtle things that would be embodied in Tartarus as tiny little shadows that feed on human flesh. I plant seeds of doubt, and I've began to lie more frequently. Simple questions are abound, and I cannot help but scratch at my skin. My god still stands behind me, but he won't for long, not when he finds out what I've done. -------- September 20th, 1998 I can feel you in my stomach. You are so small, and your brother is beside you even now, connected by my anatomy. I fear that I won't make it, but I haven't had any visions of my inevitable death, so I presume I'll live through the birth. Hades is estatic, if you can believe that. What does he think will happen? We'll leave Olympus to start a quiet, idyllic life on our own until I shrivel up and die? I sound cruel. I get more jagged every day. I just want to hold you. I often place my hand a top my stomach, close my eyes and imagine that you can feel my love through the layers of flesh. I am so sorry. -------- May 31st, 1999 I will never earn the right for call myself your mother. If comes close, it is Athena. That eases the pain, but not by much. You're almost here. Persephone came yesterday, and she placed her cheek on my stomach, hair silky hair rubbing against my bare skin, listening. She stared at the swell of flesh, as if she could see you both through it all. I wonder what Persephone sees when she looks at me? We don't make eye contact very often, but when we do, it is full of unspoken apologies. Hades, somehow, still has my heart. I have not been polished into something resembling a human being by his endless kindness and unconditonal, if suffocating love, but I am good at pretending. He still loves me, but sometimes I fear he does so regretfully. You're almost here. I expect Hades to ask if your birth brings me peace. -------- June 6th, 1999 I have never loved Hades more than when he told me he didn't love the person I have become. It was not a fight that we had...no, a fight is mutual. I put no effort into my cruelty; that is how well I had gotten. I laced my words with venom and cursed like my life depended on it. And he is still here. What is wrong with him? Zeus finally reared his ugly head, and I felt my chest seize up in hesitant affection for him. In my mind, it is only fitting that he'd be here with me, after all we've done. I'm not delusional enough to say that I love the god--no, I never will, never could--but sometimes people dig so deeply under your skin that once the ruined flesh and blood are washed away, it is too late to carve them out. I let him touch my stomach, and I saw tears in his eyes. -------- Date, 1997 Athena is changing. It is truly a rare thing to see a god change their philosiphies and values. They are creatures of habit; each is created to embody an aspect of humanity, and they seldom abandom it. She stopped telling me about her beloved Heroes, but she still speaks fondly of one in particular; Odysseus. I truly believe that she was in love with him. I see emotions pass over her face in such omnious intent that I question whether or not she's waging an internal battle within her own mind. I wonder if I should ask her; I wonder if I will dream of her turmoil. But at times I see her watch Hades, and I feel dread in my stomach. -------- Date, 2004 The faeries are the most beautiful species I have encountered to date. Their queen will need you, and you will need her too. She is strong, and it exudes from her. It is not a physical strength, like Ares or Poseidon, but it is one far more durable. I see her aura, and it is bright with hope. But, our dear gods would never ally with the faeries, so they have cut off all connections; in trade and blood alike. But in this future, it is not up to the gods. It is up to you. -------- Date, 1999 Nephlim says there is a great possibility I will die giving birth to you. Demigods are such intense souls that they tend to take everything from their mother before they've even entered the world, leaving behind an empty shell. I hope you take my life, it only seems fitting that the way I will leave this world is to allow you to enter it. -------------------- June 19th, 2006 There is a high mountain near the stream that Fae'heir has been raving to me about. He says you can see the curve of the world if you look closely enough. He says the sky is painted a million colors at sunset, the wind pushing back the clouds with determination. I say he's full of it, but I know my curiousity will drive me there. I also know that I will die. I will grip the wrong ledge, and the ancient stone will fall away underneath my fingers and I will plunge. I'll fall onto my back from a nearly two hundred feet in the air, and my head will meet the hard stone with a deafending thump. I have seen this vision over a dozen times this month. When it comes in the harsh light of day, when the little fae are around me and the elders are singing, I let it overcome me. When it comes in my hazy dreams, dreams filled with gods and wars and titans, I let it come. And when my death arrives, I will let it come. I will grip the wrong ledge, and I will fall. It is a kinder death than I deserve. Priscilla Angelis was born May 24th, 1970. Died June 20th, 2006 at the age of 36. Came to Olympus when she was 19, in 1989 (sometime after May). Had MC when she was 29 years old. Had been on Olympus just a little over a decade (specifically a month over). MC, Aeson and Saint born June 20th, 1999. Both turned 7 on the day Priscilla Angelis passed away. Zeus impregnated Priscilla 6 months after she left Olympus.