themuseabandonsyou | Deerington IC Inbox

It's a really long time to be away from home, [ Orpheus says, solemnly. ]

I like the people I've met here? And I've learned some things, that might help me with what I'm trying to do back where I came from. But it's still... really difficult.

[ And from his understanding, he's gotten off relatively easy, compared to a lot of the other people here. Either way, they've come to the apartment building now, and Orpheus holds the door open for Stefan. ]

You think we'll remember this place when we go back?

[His tone of voice doesn't give away whether he thinks remembering would be a good thing or a bad thing (always a good thing), as he steps inside the apartment building ahead of Orpheus.]

I've met people who think they've gone home for a while, and-- there are people here that knew me. Said I was here for a long time.

We don't, normally. Remember, I mean. But one of my friends is trying to figure out a way for us to keep our memories, and he's really clever. So we might be able to, someday.

[ An he takes a second to think about the rest of that, going up the stairs. There's a lot of them to go up, he lives on the seventh floor. ]

And you don't remember any of that? Do you think you died? Sometimes that can make people forget the things that happened here, and at home.

[He shakes his head in answer to Orpheus' question, not quite able to hide the disquiet in his eyes at the idea that he's been made to forget again. At least the stairs pose no problem, even if there are seven flights of them.]

I don't think it was me. Not really me, anyway. The things people have told me don't line up exactly, it's more like-- he was sort of me, shared my face.

Oh, I guess that's possible? [ He's heard of weirder things happening, at least, and if Stefan says it wasn't him, then he'd be willing to believe it. ]

That must be very strange though, having people recognize you when you don't recognize them. I've heard that happens to a couple of people here? But mostly because there are stories about them in other peoples' worlds, and not. Like that.

[ In any case, they've made it all the way up the stairs to Orpheus's apartment, to which he opens the door without unlocking it because it legitimately doesn't occur to him why he might want to. It's fairly sparse, with most of the clutter coming in the form of various notebooks and loose sheets of paper covered in a variety of different kinds of handwritten musical notation stacked on every available surface.

Orpheus leads Stefan into the kitchen, where there's a small table with a bright red carnation sitting in a vase on top. On the counter next to the stove is a small shrine constructed out of whitewashed bricks, decorated with feathers and flowers, the blessings basket that arrived with him sitting on top of it. ]

So, did you want something to drink? I have coffee, a couple of kinds of tea, or hot chocolate, or I can get you something cold.

Coffee, black.

[He gives the request without really paying attention to it, caught on looking around Orpheus' home. And that's the thing, it looks like a home, not just a random collection of furniture in a place provided by a magical kidnapping town. It looks like Orpheus has carved a life out for himself here, somehow, against all the odds.

It's alien and fascinating to him, and he finds himself walking slowly around the kitchen to look at all the little bits and pieces. He bends to smell the carnation, he reaches out and lightly touches one of the feathers at the shrine.]

What is this?

[He's curious, he's never actually seen a shrine before.]

You've got it, [ says Orpheus, filling a kettle with water and setting it on the stove before pulling out a bag of coffee grounds and measuring out enough for two cups into a small french press.

He glances over at Stefan at the question, eyebrows raised slightly before remembering that people here and probably on most Earths don't really do worship the same way he does. ]

Oh! That's a shrine to the gods of my world. Or, well, it's mostly for Hermes and Persephone, because I know them and I feel like if anyone can hear me here, it's them? But I built it for any and all of them.

[ The gods don't really like being snubbed in favor of any of their peers, but he's only got so much counter space to work with. They're kind of going to have to deal with it. ]

[Religion is a strange and abstract thing to him now. He doesn't know if the man he used to be believed in any gods, or held any faith, but he sure as hell doesn't now. The Soldier hadn't even had a concept of religion, and he has enough struggling with trying to find who he is as a man, without adding existential questions of belief into the mix.

The names of the gods, though, they sort of ring a bell. He can sort of remember reading about them long ago, books of myths from--]

Greek? [Or was it Roman? He's not sure.] Hermes was the Greek god of, uh, letters? Mail? [No, that can't be right.] Sorry, I don't mean to offend you.

Their old home was in Greece, yes, [ says Orpheus, brightly. It's still a little weird hearing people talk about his very living and immortal family members in the past tense, but Stefan is clearly trying, so he does his best not to seem too off-put by it. ]

He's a messenger god, mostly, but he also presides over travelers and gamblers and trade. And some other things.

[ The kettle is whistling now, so he takes it off the stove and pours the hot water into the french press, setting it aside to brew. ]

And it's not a problem. A lot of people here only know my gods as old stories. It's a little strange to think about? But I'm getting used to it.

I think most gods are just old stories, aren't they?

[He doesn't mean that in an offensive way, as if they're all fictional, but rather-- gods are, by their very nature, things that endure through the centuries and live on in faith and stories. Surely Orpheus isn't actually saying that he knew his gods, not in an actual personal sense?

He moves away from the shrine, not wanting to accidentally damage it, and looks about for somewhere to sit.]

Well, [ says Orpheus, pausing to think. ] I guess I mean stories in the sense that the people telling them think they aren't true. And I guess I don't know that all the stories about my gods are true either? I wasn't there for any but mine. But Mister Hermes told me most of them, and I don't think he'd lie about that kind of thing.

[ God of trickery as he may be, he's not a liar. Though he might embellish a bit, on occasion. ]

Oh.

[He looks very awkward for a moment, but-- why should he be surprised? Asgardians exist in his world, and some people still worship them as Norse gods, why shouldn't that be true elsewhere? Why shouldn't Orpheus have heard his myths directly from one of the gods?]

Must take a lot of guesswork out of belief, if you've actually met them, huh?

[ Orpheus takes a second to think over what Stefan is saying, before nodding. ]

I think I'd still believe even if I hadn't known a few of them personally? But my world is kind of - different, I guess. Even if you've never run into one of the gods personally, it's hard to avoid noticing their work, moving the sun through the sky or tending to storms and the sea, or keeping the seasons in time. And it's harder still not to notice when they uh, don't do those things.

[ He goes a little distant for a moment, glancing out the window and thinking about the long, long winter he endured and Eurydice... didn't endure. It takes him a moment to shake it off, but when he does he picks up where he left off like nothing happened. ]

But I guess where a lot of the other Sleepers come from, that kind of thing just... goes, by itself. Like clockwork. I guess that would make it harder to know if there was someone responsible for all of it.

That's what it's like in my world.

[He doesn't usually offer many pieces of information about himself or where he's from, too cautious about running into someone else who might surprise him by being from the same place, but this seems a pretty safe revelation. Especially given that.]

You mean-- seasons could just stop working if the god in charge of it took the day off?

[If gods even take time off work.]

Well, sort of? The seasons actually were, um. All wrong, for a really long time back where I came from. But that wasn't because anyone was taking the time off so much as two of the gods were having some trouble with their relationship.

[ And he feels kind of bad getting into it with a stranger, but it is sort of common knowledge back where he comes from. The gods' marital disputes kind of have a way of becoming everyone's business back home, whether they like it or not. ]

Do you know the story of Hades and Persephone?

Uh.

[There's a faint light of recognition in his eyes, and he looks both surprised and a little pleased that he does know what Orpheus is talking about.]

Yeah, I think I read about it when I was a kid. Something to do with pomegranates, right, and the spring?

Yes! Um, [ He pauses a moment, thinking. Normally he tells this story as a song, but Stefan's asked him not to sing around him, so he has to consider how best to put it in words rather than lyrics. ]

A long time ago - long before the gods left their ancestral home on Olympus - the weather was always the same, all year round, and the goddess Demeter oversaw a season of perpetual harvest. The fields were always filled with crops, and the trees laden with fruit, and the goddess's daughter Persephone roamed the ever-blooming wilds.

One day when Lady Persephone was gathering flowers, she came across a man who was so stricken by her grace and beauty that the only thing he could think to do at first was sing. Now, Persephone had many suitors befor, but there was something different about this man, and as they shared the day they each came to feel that they'd always known each other - that they just fit together, like two halves of a whole. So when the man asked her to follow him home, she agreed.

Except, as it turned out, 'home' was the Underworld, for the man was none other than Hades, the Lord of the Dead. But Persephone loved him, and he loved her, and she willingly followed him into the dark, leaving behind the verdure of her mother's world above.

Demeter, though, wasn't pleased to lose her daughter like this. She grieved the union like she was mourning Persephone's death rather than her marriage, and with her grief came the first winter, the first failed harvest, the first famine.

[ He pauses there, figuring he's gone on for a little while and Stefan deserves a chance to react to the story so far. Orpheus watches him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction and whether he should keep going on as he is or try to wrap it up more quickly.]

[Bucky isn't the most talkative individual at any time, but he's totally silent as Orpheus begins his rendition of Hades and Persephone. At first, he expects the other man to just tell him a brief summation of the story, a snapshot in a few words, but it becomes obvious pretty quickly that he's getting a detailed retelling of the tale.

It's... strange. Not just the story itself, which has echoes of familiarity that suggest he's definitely heard it somewhere before. But for the tale being told. He doesn't think anyone has told him a story like this since he was a boy, and he finds that he's utterly enraptured. A stirring in him of excitement, long buried, for someone who used to love hearing stories, reading fantastical tales, and dreaming of the legends they spoke of.

His expression doesn't alter much, a slight softening that suggests he's enjoying the tale, but his eyes are blazing with focus and interest, fixed hard on Orpheus' face. It takes him a moment when the flow of the story pauses to realise that Orpheus is waiting for a reaction, for him to say something.]

Don't stop.

[He probably should be asking questions, or giving his opinion on the characters themselves. Those two little words are inadequate. But he doesn't want to break the spell of the story, the flow of it, by inserting his voice into the proceedings. He just wants to hear what happens.]

[ Orpheus actually smiles a bit at the intensity in Stefan's eyes, glad to see he hasn't lost his touch and gladder still that Stefan seems to be interested in it. It's a longer story, and Orpheus isn't one to abbreviate - especially not the important ones - so it's good that he's enjoying himself. ]

When Hades and Persephone noticed the flood of starved and freezing souls entering the Underworld, they knew what had to be done. Persephone had to return to the surface, or risk the whole world dying. But Hades feared that once she had gone back, that Demeter would never allow her daughter to leave her side again, and Persephone knew that this was more than possible.

So instead of leaving right away, Persephone stopped by a pomegranate tree that had sprouted when she arrived, and plucked one of the fruits from his branches. She split it open, and swallowed six of the seeds, binding her to the underworld - a promise that she'd return, for six months out of every year.

And with that, she walked out of the Underworld, and found her mother, who was so delighted to see her that the winds blew hotter and the sun shone brighter than ever before, bringing us the first summer. Slowly, the world recovered.

But a goddess's promises are binding, and after six months in the wind and sun it was time for her to return to her husband. She bid her mother goodbye and ventured back into the comforting darkness below, and Demeter, knowing that she at least had the assurance that she'd see her daughter again this time, was more even-handed in her grief.

So the world settled into this rhythm, with Demeter celebrating her daughter's return each year with all the blessings of the Earth, and retreating into her sorrow and the cold when Persephone returned to Hades. And for a long time, it worked. Even as Demeter handed over many of her duties to her daughter, the fields and trees remembered their original mistress's love - blooming in the spring to welcome her back and giving one final parting gift in the fall to send her off before withering until her return.

But in the end, it didn't last. Hades, normally patient as the grave, slowly grew to fear and resent his wife's time spent away from him, dreading that she'd return to him each year. The doubt made him possessive, and the worse he got, the more it drove Persephone away, seeking freedom from his ever more crushing embrace. The two of them fought bitterly, but while Hades never stopped loving her, and she never stopped loving him...

[ Orpheus frowns, sighs, and shakes his head. ]

At first he just started coming to the surface each year. To escort her back home personally. But then he started coming earlier and earlier, and letting her go later and later. So the winters lasted longer and longer, and the summers turned short and blazing hot as Persephone and the land around her tried to cram as much living into what time they had as possible.

It had been like that for... about as long as I can remember, when I came here. Probably longer than I've been alive? But Hades and Persephone - they were doing better, I think. He let her go when he was supposed to. It was spring again.

Deerington IC Inbox

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject