Kyn felt a tremendous sense of relief as he stepped into the plaza of the Atlantean palace. They were now standing before Poseidon; after everything he had endured, finally they were back to solid ground.
Undoubtedly majestic, the sea god stood in stark contrast to the highly armoured characters that Kyn had seen in his many online dives. Glowing bronze and heavenly crests, the typical symbols, were absent. This Poseidon wore an unexpectedly contemporary outfit: a sleek navy suit with a white undershirt. Despite its seeming out of place against the bioluminescent plants and opalescent coral, the outfit effectively highlighted the god's chiselled figure.
Dying to pinch himself, Kyn restrained himself. But the sea god's features were classically sculpted; his chiselled jaw, penetrating eyes, and cascading beard all hinted at myths from long before. The fitted costume of Poseidon, who radiated the anticipated regality and might, created an enthralling paradox: mythology that was both ageless and modern. Kyn was utterly bewildered and awestruck. Poseidon personified a living contradiction, much like the fictional realm they had entered; man was the embodiment of pure genetic luck.
Kyn, on the other hand, couldn't fathom Poseidon's line of thought. Sure, the sea god was a picture of oceanic power and grace, but to think of Kyn as a "life" obstacle? It felt both absurd and unnervingly prescient. _Of course he'd ask if I was okay first_, Kyn mused wryly. Classic overprotective big brother move. Then the instant side-eye for Gaia... like she'd just tied him to a sea monster and fed it his favourite kelp salad.
It all didn't make any strange kind of sense. Poseidon, seeing Gaia—a legendary Earth Deity with dominion over 80% of Atlantis' tech—entangled with a mortal who seemed constitutionally opposed to long-term survival, would indeed be a case for concern. Not just for the romantic angle, but for the economic and infrastructural fallout.
Kyn was, in Poseidon's eyes, a human bull in Gaia's technologically advanced china shop. A walking catastrophe in designer threads. And the part about his near-death experiences with Ra's pantheon? That likely solidified Kyn as Public Enemy Number One in Poseidon's celestial court.
The fact that karma had his luck to only sire daughters felt like a cursed history was reliving itself; 4 out of 17 were married, and the rest just couldn't hold the fort. Gaia, their so-called Bestie was about to get into a situationship, a real point of contention; case in point, his daughter Beth, who just had a breakup, was standing right behind him. The memory of those ill-fated romances with humans played out like a cautionary tale in his mind. Poseidon probably saw himself reliving the drama – though this time on a scale where Atlantis' infrastructure could be at stake. It truly felt less like overprotectiveness and more like a boardroom emergency meeting about Kyn's blatant threat to their multi-planetary portfolio.
Kyn, recovering, now faced an interrogation of a different kind—a divinely infused HR meeting. The emphasis on Poseidon's kingdom coming first underscores that this isn't just about Gaia's affection. It's a high-stakes assessment of Kyn's worthiness to be part of their intricate mythological and geopolitical web.
Benthesicyme (Beth), spotting her chance for a social escapade, whisked Gaia away for some gossip—a quintessential example of women's dynamics, blending sincere curiosity with a generous sprinkle of playful meddling. The scene had set the stage for a tense yet revealing encounter between Poseidon and Kyn, where the mortal's survival (and possibly Atlantis itself) had hinged on Kyn's performance.
Poseidon shot Kyn a look so intense it could rearrange the ocean floor. "Ah, so you must be the charming mortal who's captured my sister's heart!" His voice rumbled like distant thunder, sounding less like an accusation and more like a finely tuned evaluation. "Gaia has previously displayed a knack for picking her partners wisely (he lied). This... 'human' connection is certainly a bit out of the ordinary, wouldn't you agree?"
Kyn stood tall, his heart drumming a beat so loud it could probably be heard by Poseidon himself, even with the waves teasing their feet. He had to watch his step; declaring undying love might not float well with a sea god.
"Lord," he began, selecting his words with the finesse of a sailor avoiding a storm, "My bond with Gaia is... quite remarkable. Though I grasp the intricate dance of this world and the historical footnotes ... I promise you, my intentions are anything but interim. My heart, along with my dazzling array of talents, is devoted to—"
Poseidon lifted a hand, effectively putting a cork in his chatter. "Don't bother with hollow declarations of loyalty." Gaia's realm is delightfully tangled with that of Atlantis. "Your skills and expertise hold more weight than just feelings." He leaned in, the ghostly glow of his trident throwing playful shadows. "So, mortal, what one-of-a-kind charm do you offer in a partnership that might tip the scales for both worlds?" the god added seamlessly, releasing his domain's spiritual pressure on the culprit.
The pressure was practically auditioning for a role in a high-stakes thriller. Kyn's survival, and maybe even his relationship, depended on flaunting a bit more than a mere lovesick heart. This wasn't some fairy tale love story; it was a nail-biting cosmic deal-making extravaganza. Could he, a simple human, charm a deity into recognising his value, or would the abyss of their realm snap shut around him like an overzealous bear trap?
Poseidon's spiritual pressure, intended as a grand show of might and a hint of menace, rolled over Kyn like a tidal wave, leaving him both impressed and slightly unnerved. Instead of cowering or faltering, as any mere mortal might have done, Kyn stood his ground with admirable stubbornness. A flicker of genuine surprise had crossed the sea god's face.
The source of Kyn's unexpected fortitude was his Ayin bane. The spectral glow had intensified as Poseidon's pressure met it head-on; the two forces had locked in a silent standoff. The air had crackled, not with fear, but with a palpable tension of opposing cosmic forces that had harmonised in an utterly unnatural way.
The god had recoiled inwardly, not from pain, but from the sheer absurdity of the situation. This mortal's weapon had mirrored his divine might, serving as both a shield and a clever counterpoint. It turned out to be less a showcase of Kyn's might and more a quirky nod to the peculiar essence of the Ayin bane itself—a celestial reverberation clashing with a raw power. -- to hold such an artefact, he must be important, he thought
He saw not only a beseeching person but also the image of a power that he couldn't fully understand. This shifted the dynamic. The interrogation morphed into a peculiar sort of silent communion—a deity and a mere mortal caught in a complex waltz of clashing forces.
"You're sturdy enough; you'll do... For now," came the god's reply after "17 daughters and now her ... why in Zeus' name am I invested?"
"...SEVENTEEN!!?" Kyn couldn't help but exclaim.
"Why are you so shocked about it? It's not as if I've hidden anything from the world," came the reply.
"Well, there's that, but then there's Jasmine and her escapades. We have to stop her before she..." He trailed off.
"What? Beth is just one of her old friends; there's not much the two of them can do except gossip," came the old man's reply.
"So was Athena," came Kyn's reply.