girls of effulgence | bts

twenty-seven

Weeks passed by for the sins as fast as Gluttony could pass food into his mouth. It was now a dreary July, and it was most unusual since it was usually very bright and warm, giving off a pleasant vibe to all who lived and played.

However, up in the fluffy clouds where Zeus and his minion gods usually had some R&R, the weather avoided the king of the gods and his companions like the Plague of Athens avoided anywhere but, Athens.

Zeus watched as the builders installed new seating into his dining hall. His thick, sausage fingers coiled around his hairy, tanned arms from being out in the sun constantly, and his feather-like eyebrows were knit together as he stared at the builders like a hawk.

"Careful there!" He shouted once he saw one of the builders almost hit a thousand-year-old statue. "That golden statue of me is worth more than your entire life's wages."

The builder whimpered with worry under the intense, fiery glare of Zeus, but nevertheless, kept carefully moving the intricately carved golden chairs underneath the even more golden table that was about thirty feet long. The chairs had to be carefully moved, rather, installed because they were so huge, and couldn't just be pushed back by someone who lounged in the throne-like chairs. The seater better hoped that they were not short because the chairs were not movable once placed.

Since when did Zeus know his wages? The builder thought to himself angrily as he kept working. Just because he was a god didn't mean that he was omniscient.

Or perhaps it did because as soon as he had finished his job, Zeus was still staring down at him intensely.

"Do I have something on my face?" The builder asked nervously at the towering man, worried he would collapse on him at any moment.

"A nose, a mouth, two eyes, some ears, and a disgusting smear of tar," said Zeus matter-of-factly, "but no. I was not directing my attention on that."

Zeus zoomed in forward, so he leaned impressively over the rather small builder man, who was feeling a bit smaller as the thunder god lumbered over him. The builder wiped his hands on his white work tunic and looked apprehensively up at Zeus. "Then what is it?" He asked in a small voice.

"Are you a demigod, boy?" Zeus asked with antipathy, continuing to stare down the young man. "You smell like those putrid things, so I'd thought I'd ask politely." A demigod was a person that was born to one god and one human, making them strong with their parent's power, but yet so delicately human.

The man didn't think that was too polite, but he supposed Zeus could be a lot meaner. His thunderbolts were famous, and he didn't want to touch one anytime soon. "Yes. I am." He said confidently, puffing up his chest earnestly, but then quickly deflated like a balloon once Zeus let out a huge snort. "I'm the son of Hephaestus?" Said the demigod, but like that was going to change Zeus's thunder-solid opinion. Zeus growled again.

"Get out of my sight," He huffed. "How dare you taint the golden chairs that lay contemptuously around this fine table. I'll make sure a servant cleans them thoroughly once you're gone," he spat, "so that my beautiful children don't have to touch your filth."

He promptly slapped the demigod in the face. "Out!" He bellowed, and the demigod was out like a burned out lightbulb. He ran away, zigzagging like one of Zeus's own thunderbolts. In worry, the other builders quickly left as well after finishing up their job, not wanting Zeus to fry them out of his anger.

Zeus's pale blue eyes watched him leave Olympus, the young man running through the hedges in the gardens in haste. He grimaced. He'd pay for that later. But for now, he had to call a maid to clean up the man's horrible and invisible mess. How had he overlooked such a disgusting fact?