Erato is the muse of love poetry, scribed and voiced by Fucking Poetry.
Know Your Muse
Height: 6′ 0″
Weight: 68 kg
Hair Color: light brown, mid-length, messy layer cut
Facial Hair: beard – length varies from short clipped to beginner lumberjack
Distinguishing Features: eyebrow piercing left eyebrow
No commercial business. Currently working as a poetry teacher at the community college.He is slowly learning more and more about the practicalities of the mortal world but misses details..
Has a residence at the God Complex HQ, on Floor 24, but is never there. Spends most of the time as a transient.
General Overview: Calm. Deeply interested in mortals but somewhat naive about the real world. Has not been instantiated in a physical form for several thousand years so missing some rather important details and almost completely ignorant about modern culture. Not particularly interested in any art or media other than poetry so has a very strange view of the world. Deeply interested in anyone he meets and talks to. Mortals tend to find their passions (not necessarily but often sexual) accentuated when he is around. Everyone’s a poet once they’ve spent more than ten minutes in his presence. The level of attention he gives in conversation combined with the accentuation of their passions tends to confuse mortals. If Erato had an evil or manipulative bone in his body he could control anyone, but he’s mostly oblivious to his effect on people and thinks this is normal.
Likes: Meeting mortals and inspiring them
Dislikes: The inelegant in art. Can’t stand the banal. Hates reality TV.
Probably Still Immortal. Erato is currently in a mortal body with all that entails. He’s not really sure what will happen to him when he “dies” and hasn’t really thought about it yet. Like most mortals, in fact. His mortal body makes him more vulnerable than his fellow immortals.
The Zen of Poetry. Erato is not particularly interested in being in charge of anything and doesn’t have an ambitious bone in his body - he knows, he checked. He moves along from thing to thing, certain that something will work out and comfortable not knowing what that something is. His lack of interest in any arts other than poetry can sometimes leave him a little out of touch, but that will work out, too. Has so far.
Is THAT What Happened? It might seem a stretch to think that a muse of poetry (especially tending toward erotic poetry) could be classified as naïve, but it’s true. Erato is still learning all the endless details of mortal life and can be oblivious to the plots and dealings of others. And if you know anything about the gods on Olympus, you know just how bad that can be.
Too Much of a Good Thing. Erato’s aura is powerful when completely unleashed - and now that he has some control over it (no mean feat in a mortal body) he is very cautious about affecting others with it. He’s seen what happens when it’s allowed to run wild.
Immortality. Technically immortal. Immune to the effects of aging, cannot die by any conventional means, and is immune to all known mortal diseases and infections. However, he is currently in a mortal form which CAN be subject to such effects.
Mother Tongue. As the bridge between the mortal world and the divine, they speak all languages mortals do, even the long dead ones.
Muse. As a Muse, Erato exudes inspiration. Anyone spending more than a few minutes in his presence will be inspired to write.
Passionate Aura. As the muse of erotic poetry, Erato inspires passion in those around him, both mortals and immortals alike. This ability doesn’t have an OFF switch. Erato has to actively make a choice and suppress it. If he suppresses his aura for too long, it escapes, requiring him to manage its flow. The passion he inspires is not necessarily sexual but varies depending on the mortal being inspired. It depends what THEY find exciting or interesting. Adults can be affected in a variety of ways ranging from artistic inspiration to intense sexual arousal. To be clear, this does NOT affect children, they just become excited and want to run around and play.
Mortal Form. While technically immortal, Erato is currently instantiated in a mortal body. He took it very literally when asked to come to Earth and is wearing a physical human form. He thinks it’s great and would be disappointed if anything happened to it.
Astral Projection. While his mortal form is asleep, meditating or otherwise inert, Erato’s spirit can travel anywhere. He can be both seen and heard in this form and can go anywhere with the merest thought. Those he makes himself apparent to are intensely aware of his aura and affected by it, so he uses it rarely.
Normal Daily Wear: Mortal casual – somewhere between grunge and hipster.
Alternative Dress Wear: When in Olympus, generally a light robe or toga. Does not physically attend Olympus, will only be there as a projection, so no physical form, can be walked through etc.
Doesn’t believe in using external items of magical power.
Introduction written by Fucking Poetry
Well hi. I’m Erato. Or… that’s what the Greeks called me. It’s.. more complex than that. It always is.
I’m not a god, you see. I’m a muse.
An .. inspiration. I’m not exactly embodied, or rather…. Let me start again.
See, there’s a place – where the creative and the … reproductive… urges coincide. Where inspiration bends minds and bodies towards the erotic, the intimate.. and the perverted. Where words weave through minds, caress bodies. Slim syllables running down your chest, wet words falling on your breast, lips and breath shaped around each part of you.. Am I going too fast?
Ok fine. I’m the god of talking about fucking.
Let’s roll on that.
The Greeks thought I was a goddess, but I get that a bit. At least until someone gets a close look. I’m not technically anything. I only have a form at all because of cycles of belief.
My whole bag is that bodies aren’t really that important.
Words are important. Minds are important. I assure you, read me a while and your body will tell you quite clearly.. I don’t need to touch you to move you, to get inside you in a way you’ve rarely felt.
I’m the dream that wakes you with a liquid centre, I’m the verse that winds and binds your wrists.
I’m the words you feel as they enter, I’m the thought that makes your stomach twist.
Don’t let the male body fool you. I don’t discriminate. I’m taken and I take, I’m desire and desired. I’ll love you, hold you higher, you’ll be as strong as you desire to.
I’m into it when it’s intimate.
Meet me in your dreams and daydreams.
I’ll see you there.
You can’t avoid it after all – I’m the impulse to express desire.
I’m there when you least expect it.