"Jasne! I said, have you had any kind of, like, history of prophetic trances, religious instruction, shamanic initiation, something like that?" He looked a little concerned. Well, I was concerned, and more than a little.

"No... well not really, anyway. My great-aunt was some kind of shaman, I think, but she never really taught me anything."

"Hmm... well, those kind of tendencies do run in families, I guess that'd make you susceptible..."

I didn't want to know, I really didn't want to know, but like an idiot, I asked anyway. "What do you mean, susceptible?"

"To, well..." Cupid paused, studying my face carefully. "There's just no way to put this that'll make it sound less creepy."

I wasn't getting as ticked off as I really should have been. I was having a hard time keeping my awareness on the conversation, truth be told. If I let my concentration slip for even a moment, my thoughts were no longer my own, and it kept getting harder to get back under control. "Could you just, like, TELL me?"

"It's just that there aren't any human words for it," Zelos chimed in. "It's not really a human concept."

"Aw, come on," Peitho objected, "What about 'possessed'? THAT'S a human word."

"POSSESSED?" Ok, I was freaking now.

"Well, 'overshadowed' might be closer," said Cupid. "And not even full-time." He frowned. "It's kind of weird, though. Usually the kind of link you're carrying around takes a long time to set up. The only exceptions I've seen were..." His eyes flickered to where Koren and Toren were standing and something must have showed on my face, because he shut up real quick and took a deep breath.

And here I thought I was good at keeping a blank face. Either Cupid was better than most at reading expressions or he was cheating by eavesdropping on my thoughts. If it WAS the latter, I would have forgiven him, for not pursuing the topic. Swallowing hard, I turned to glare at Strife. "How much of this have you known? And for how long? How long has this been going on, anyway?"

Shut up. You're going to cause a scene. And it's not Strife's fault, anyway. Ares. Damn-him-to-Tartarus Ares, talking in my frigging HEAD. You don't know how easy you've had it. I mean, at any time I chose, I could have done THIS....

And... nothingness. I couldn't see, hear, feel, smell, or taste anything. No sensation of movement, no feeling of any part of my body... it totally sucked. I'm not sure how long it lasted, since there really wasn't any sense of passing time, either.

You see? I've been spoiling you rotten. Even as a thought in my head, he sounded so fucking smug. It'll all go much easier on you if you'll just get with the program. I am the god. You are the mortal. Your wishes just plain aren't important, and whining will just piss me off.

I realized that fuming just isn't as effective when you have no arms to cross and no mouth to pout with.

Oh, quit sulking. Ares sounded, not exactly angry, but certainly irritated. It's not like I'm using you to lead a suicidal cavalry charge or anything. You're an extra pair of eyes and ears, a spare pair of hands when I need `em. Speaking of which...

Sensation returned all at once. I wondered how long I'd been 'out'. I certainly wasn't sitting on the soft cushion where I had been. I was kneeling directly on the floor. White marble... OK, so I was still at Nike's party. I looked up, trying to get my bearings... or rather, TRIED to. My head and neck wouldn't move. I couldn't even move my eyes.