Travelers beware

For the longest time it had felt to Eros that he was trapped within the walls of his mind, saturated with confliction that eventually chained him down to his own home. They tugged him from the front door to the depths and bowels of his inner most chambers on tight leashes that would whisper thoughts upon thoughts until it grew into white noise that clouded his ears over and nothing was really heard anymore. For a while Eros was truly the first son, the fair mannered marionette that could be observed but never heard for its mouth was painted on with expensive paints of crushed rose petals.

The first son was only first for a brief period, he was only truly first until the sun he’d captured and guarded had finally thawed itself out. Hesperus, bless his soul as gentle as the light that cast off him and into the pit where Eros wallowed. The Solrock had grown wiser still and by some odd right had worked up from his first impression as a creature to be watched to something entirely new. He saved Eros from his foolishness so therefore he was a brother and a brother he was called without much of an uproar by his staff.

But in Eros heart he heard the enraged howls that came from the blood of his father, his father and his wicked courts and his concubines and thus Eros own younger half-siblings. But with the sunshine came clarity and with that it stirred the youth that shrieked louder than anything his father could muster and Eros had decided he’d have no more concerning his age and inheritance. The next time he approached his father t’was like a knife had carved out a great big gash in the marionettes mouth for it to let out a great noise of distain.

Oh how he shouted and raged against the injustice that bred with his birthright and before long he could have not a single look more and attacked his father, teeth barring like a great tiger. Old Argonia would not have this freedom and struck back freely until both men stood as equals with wounds that went farther than their smooth flesh that had been destroyed by hatred. In the end Old Argonia did the only thing just by a man in his position and he cast out the wild spawn, ripping everything from him but the mansion that could only be dealt with by the young man himself.

So with a bountiful pain Eros labored back into his home where he asked a favor of one of his old servants, asking of the girl that she cut off his long silken hair so it was short and fresh and free as he was. And in observation Hesperus also had his hair cut back out of sheer respect for the suffering his friend had brought upon himself for his freedom. In the end when the fire had simmered down into faint embers and the tainted prince lie on one of his couches, staring up at the ceiling with unseeing eyes, Hesperus was still there. The man never really left him it seemed; he was too faithful like a good hunting dog. It had been a few months and Eros calls out to his companion.

“I think it’s time we rejoined the world properly,” the musing is met with a gentle hand to the wounds on his face, worry dripping from the fingers that followed a jagged line from his ear to his cheek. “Are you sure? Your face… does it still hurt?” “Sometimes” he admits, gaze trained on the thin scar over the other man’s right eye. “Perhaps it’s bringing me closer to you hmm?” It’s meant in a horrid humor as Eros slides a single digit down Hesperus’ scar and sits up.

“Call my uncle, he said he had something for me, I have to make a few arrangements,” the solrock is glad to be of use and as faithful as he can be the ancient youth swiftly floats out of the room, passing row upon row of empty rooms and corridors. It will be nice; he thought to himself, that there might be laughter here after all this deathly silence.