⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ WCE for rareunicornswirl-- ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Instructions

genre: myth/fantasy Press the flag to listen to the music I composed Selene parked her moonlit chariot next to the post office and rubbed her eyes. Just because she was the goddess of the night doesn’t mean she can’t be tired after a long night. Although Eos hasn’t crept up the sky yet, Selene got the feeling that she would if she didn’t hurry. After taking a deep breath and admiring her chariot, which was glowing in her presence, she slowly walked up to the front door of the post office. Hesitantly, she placed her delicate hand on the door handle and drew in yet another breath, but this time it was a fortifying one. Selene slowly ambled into the building, acting as casual as she could, but she was dreading what was inside. Her heart was pounding. She could hear her ichor flowing through her ears, but she didn’t sweat. Selene never sweats. She glows. Stay casual, she told herself. Don’t forget about sarcasm, she added. Then she walked up to the counter. Behind it she could see cloud nymphs walking around—feet barely touching the ground— carrying packages or loading them onto chariots, and she could hear a faint hum of what she thought might be an engine of some sort, but could very well be something else. It smells disgusting, she thought as her hand hovered over the bell that said ‘ring for service’. “Can I help you?” A man jumped up from behind the counter, which nearly doubled Selene’s heart rate. But of course, no sweating. The man was wearing his iconic winged helmet, famous cheeky smile, and magicians cloak. It was pretty obvious that this was Hermes. Unless it was one of his tricks. But Selene knew it wasn’t, because he was very real. Although he tried to act casual like Selene did, she could see some slight uncertainty in his smile and voice, and his shiny helmet was a tad bit dimmer than it usually was. As a matter of fact, his whole godly aura seemed weaker, just as it was with Selene every day. “Yes,” she said once she snapped out of her observations. “I have a letter to deliver to Dionysus, about those awfully annoying maenads,” she continued. “His followers? I heard from Helios that some mortal is getting all worked up about them,” Hermes said. “That’s the one. But he’s way more upset than usual. He also is so busy chasing them away from his fields that he won’t get enough rest. You know how annoying that is?” “Well then, that will be 6 drachmas.” Selene arched one of her crescent moon eyebrows. “Did you just give me a discount?” She said sarcastically. “What do you mean?” Hermes asked innocently. Selene pointed her finger to a board above his head that looked like the one Demeter had in her cafe, which showed what Selene was buying and the price, except the one in Hermes’ post office, the prices look like a slot machine,—the thing that mortals were so obsessed with— so Hermes could change the price to whatever he wanted. The price said 8 drachmas, and not six. “Oh, that,” he said as he pulled a chain that Selene never noticed and the 8 changed into a 6. “Spill it,” Selene said. “Why did you say six?” she asked. “Fine. Six if you want me to change the letter to something ridiculous. Eight if you want the letter delivered in the same state it was handed to me,” he remarked. “Fine. Eight drachmas is it,” Selene poured 8 gold coins into his hands, then passed him the envelope and walked out of the building. Her thoughts were surging through her mind. How did Hermes mess up his prank? He never did that. And just as she was dreading, he seemed weaker, just like his aura, and something that she noticed was that the corners of his eyes began to crease, just like it did with mortals. Hermes was fading, along with the whole olympian family, which included Selene. As Eos started painting the sky with her rosy fingers, Selene realized that she had started sweating.