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Hermes is about to be off to his next mission when he hears Circe tell Odysseus that he must go to the underworld and talk to an all wise fortune teller so he could finally get back home.
Truth is, he is a god, however he does find empathy for this man. He couldn't imagine going through so much, just to see his kid and wife again.
Zeus could never.
That very not personal comment aside, he stops at his feet.
Who's saying this possibly hundred year old fortune teller will cooperate with the tortured Odysseus, Hermes thinks to himself. He's been to the underworld a few times for business, such as sending Zeus' threats to Hades and vice, versa, he knows the layout of the place, though it changes from time to time. Hades does have some....artistic worries, let's say.
Which basically means, throwing things all over the place, causing things in there to get scrambled.
So, sure. He doesn't have to go help Odysseus more than he already has but hey. There's always ladies there looking for a certain God to remind them that death isn't as bad as they think it is...
Problem is, the goddamn dog guarding the underworld has a thing against Hermes and it's always a challenge getting in. His furr always gets torn up and this is one of his favourite pieces.
He sighs, contemplating whether or not it's worth the hustle, but it's either that or taking a scorching hot flaming sword to Hyphestus after his request, which is not something he looks very much forward to. Just cause he's the God of fire, doesn't mean every god can hold these damn things like they are nothing! He'd have to apply ambrosia on his palms for milenia to get them to heal.
After a few wrong turns and much regret, he gets to the entrance of the underworld. He squints, searching for the rabid dog, Cerberus.
He can hear him growling from afar but he can't spot him. Which is rather alarming, since he's hard to miss. It's not every day you see a three headed dog. He flies closer, as alert as an ADHD riddled God could be, taking in his surroundings. He can hear the screams of the dead as he gets closer. While you are still in the world of the living, they sound like distant chime bells that could be coming from anywhere but that very entrance. The sound of Cerberus has ceased so Hermes allows himself to breathe out. His furr is about to make all the ladies in the underworld scream.
Well, it's not as if they are not already screaming...
But scream for HERMES instead of their endless misery.
With a foot into the underworld, happy with himself for avoiding danger and keeping his swag in tact, Hermes smiles widely. That's when a giant set of sharp teeth snatch him by his coat. Hermes yelps, as his winged shoes helplessly attempt to help him break free from the dog
"CERBERUS —"
The three headed dog has made himself known , growling, salivating everywhere, jumping around and playing with Hermes as if he was a chew toy.
"OW— FOR THE LOVE OF FUCKING ZEUS—OW—PUT ME DOWN YOU DUMB FUCKING DOG—"
Cerberus, unaware or what this familiar smelling chew toy is saying, drags him inside the underworld to play with it further. The messenger god regrets every decision he's made leading him to this as he gets dragged through the mud that's covered with human ashes, chewed on and salivated over.
Right as he's about to contact Hades to get his fucking dog, a calm yet haunting voice echoes stopping Cerberus on his feet, causing him to drop Hermes. "Cerberus? What did you bring here."
He did fall on his head, but he was put down at last.
He scans the environment but sees nothing but bones stuck on the dirt walls. He huffs. He's not a "what". Cerberus begins to wag his tail jumping in circles around himself until a figure appears from the shadows.
"What is it, dear Cerberus?" The figure calls, with next to no emotion in his voice, as the dog hurries up and nests beside him, clearly for pets. Damn, he's never seen this demon of a dog behave like a puppy before.
Hermes gets closer as he does his best to dust himself off and reattach parts of his furr back together. Now that he's closer he can see the figure more clearly. It's a man. In his late 20s possibly, with curly hair and bright blue eyes. He tilts his head. How did this lanky man get Cerberus to behave like this?
" Not a «what» but a «who», darling, thank you very much. " Says Hermes, casually, though slightly annoyed he's even in this situation in the first place.
"I believe you meant «whom»."
"What?"
"No, it is «whom»."
Hermes getting increasingly more frustrated by the soul's incoherent speech, he runs his hand through his curls, with a sharp inhale.
" No, WHAT are you even talking about?"
"I initially said « What did you bring here». Had I been talking about a person, I would have used «whom» instead of «who» since it's more grammatically correct."
There is a big silence after that statement, the god stunned that this guy just repeatedly corrected his grammar despite him being Hermes. The messenger of the gods and a god himself . The man just stares with big eyes, unblinking , not at him per say, but at his general direction.
Seeing that this man was neither going to move, nor initiate discussion, Hermes decides to break the silence.
"Right—"
"It is right, for it is how grammar works." The soul interrupts.
The messenger is unable to form words after that. They fall into another silence after that and it seems to only be affecting the god rather than the dead mortal before him.
"Look, blue eyes, I'm looking for Tiresias, some old fart who tells the future. I must speak to him immediately. Can you help me out of what?"
"It is I."
"Dude, stop correcting my grammar or I'll personally tell Hades to—"
"No, I'm Tiresias." He says calmly, still not blinking.
Oh.
"... I was looking for you. I'm Hermes. The messenger of the Gods."
"Hello."
Silence.
This guy makes his skin crawl, how does he make him feel embarrassed?
He would have thought an all wise fortune teller would be a little old... At least forty. To have witnessed some of life... And ugly. He expected him to be hard to look at, like it's hard to see how terrible your future might be. But this guy? He's tall with crystal blue eyes and curly blonde hair. The scariest and ugliest thing about him is the fear of being grammatically corrected.
Cerberus starts whining at the lack of attention and Tiresias turns around, his hands extended, as if to find the dog, and once he does, he begins to pet him.
" You'll have a visitor soon. You must help him get to his home. You gonna cooperate with that, darling?"
He tries to shed his annoyance by slipping back to his smooth talking self but by now he knows not to expect the same energy back.
"Oh, will I? Not many people seek me anymore."
The long haired man braces himself for another awkward silence but Tiresias surprises him by continuing his train of thought, petting as he speaks.
"When I was alive I was needed until I was not. Until I was not the bearer of good news. Then I was a liar, someone who made up lies for his benefit. Not many people actually seek the truth. But the truth seeks them, and eventually it finishes them.
Here, I am never needed. Everyone knows their fate. They have met with it. There's no more fate to be seen. No more future to be told. Just eternity. Forever."
Hermes swallows, not quite knowing how to respond to that. Instead he moves to a different question.
"Can you still see the future?"
"Yes, I can. My devine abilities do not get taken once I reach the end." Cerberus slowly drifts to sleep as the unblinking man gently runs his hand through his furr. Loud snoring erupts.
This man, in a way he can't explain, is funny. He answers as if everything is just so literal. He's so cryptic in a way he doesn't need to be, but he supposes that's the man's job.
Tiresias turns back to face him again.
"Am I of service to you, Hermes?"
"Not to me, unless you can see my future."
"It is not common to be able to see the future of those who hold the Godly status. And it is also not wise to anger a God."
That answer only intrigued him. He was not here to get his future read but this conversation made him curious.
"Well, I asked you for it, didn't I, baby blue?" He leans close. " It's not wise to say no to a god either, is it, darling."
" May I touch you?" The man asks.
Hermes blinks. Well, okay then, he was the one teasing the fortune teller but it worked a little too well. It caught him off guard. He was planning on getting his future told, nothing more than that. Not that it wasn't flattering, yes, but—
" I would need to touch you to get in tune with such a devine being. Humans have an energy that is very easy to read. It's unmoving, steady. God's on the other hand, their energy is restless. It rarely ever stays still and it is challenging for me to see. I would need to touch you, physically, to even attempt it."
Hermes is only slightly disappointed. Perhaps he's not as charming as he thought he was. Ouch. What a strike to his ego.
"Go ahead, baby blue. " He extends his hand and waits for the man to take it.
"I would like for you to give me your hand."
Hermes, tilts his head. "I am already."
" I cannot see it. Could you put it into mine? "
"Oh!"
Hermes realises why Tiresias has not been looking directly at him and only his general direction. Embarrassed by his negligence, he puts his hand into Tiresias. His palms are surprisingly soft as they clasp over his, caressing his hand gently. This makes the wings at his feet flutter for a moment. He felt light and it triggered his wings to take off, but he thankfully stayed still.
He clears his throat and that's when he finally looks at Tiresias and not just his hand petting him like it did Cerberus, and notices that his pale face had turned redhad turned red. Hermes tilts his head slightly, curious to see what could have elicited emotion in the fortune teller. Tiresias snaps from his trance, immediately letting go of Hermes' hand.
Silence.
"Dude, what was it?"
" Nothing of importance, I fear."
Bullshit.
" Then why are you so rattled?" He leans close, eyes squinting.
"Oh, erm. It is nothing. For I am just tired. I have to depart. " He announces but Hermes stops him by grabbing his wrist.
"I order you to tell me. As a God."
He says, as strictly as he possibly can.
"....
I only saw you press your lips against somebody else's. It was a man. I could not tell who the man was. Nothing of importance, as I
said."
He shakes his head, baffled by the answer.
" And that got you so red?"