afterglow.

every  epic  is  full  of  befores  and  afters .    but  in  the  breadth  of  space  between  the  two  ,  there  is  during .

#𝙶𝙾𝚁𝙶𝙾𝙽𝙸𝙰𝚂   :     dependent  roleplay  account  for  reushq .     (   amanda.    twenty3.    est.   )

WITH: @gorgonias WHERE: Kalavria Deck, Pontius WHEN: February 2130 (Week 2 of the Kalavrian Summit)

Athena shuffled through the notecards on her phone one last time, brow furrowed as she made her way toward the stage. She’d be moderating a panel in under an hour, and her palms were already sweating enough that the back of her phone was slick with it. She shouldn’t be so nervous; after all, she was only the moderator. But then, wasn’t the moderator the most important role? Keeping everything together, everyone on track. If she did a good job, the public wouldn’t think much of her. But if she did a bad job, then everybody would be talking about her. Ugh, she couldn’t even think about it.

Gaze fixed firmly on her virtual notecards, she didn’t notice the person in her way until it was far too late. Her forehead collided with someone’s chin, and she gasped, wheeling backwards so quickly she nearly fell on her ass. “I’m so sorry,” she managed, before she got a good look at the person she’d collided with.

Dusa. Her lips pressed together. Out of all the people she could run into, it had to be her. She felt a sharp pang of regret for the friend she’d once had, but it was just as quickly smothered by irritation. “Hi, Dusa. I didn’t realize you’d be coming to this.” Clearly, Hades’s personal assistant was making herself important.

so  far  ,  this  is  the  second  time  this  whole  literally  bumping  into  people  thing  has  happened  since  arriving  on  pontius .    which  isn’t  to  say  that’s  a  lot  ,  but  it’s  unfortunate  that  she’s  finding  herself  in  a  pattern .    colliding  with  alecto  had  been  an  ambivalent  combination  of  good  and  bad  luck .    but  this  one ?    the  ache  blooming  across  the  line  of  her  jaw  ought  to  be  enough  to  say  that  this  incident  was  the  unlucky  one .

“  no  ,  no  ,  i’m  fine  ,  don’t  worry  ,  are  you   --  ”    their  voices  overlap .    practically  screech  to  a  halt  in  the  same  millisecond  that  their  heads  swing  up  and  eyes  lock .    “  oh .  ”

well  ,  shit .

“  athena  ,  ”    said  by  way  of  greeting .    she  thinks  ,  for  a  moment  ,  that  there’s  some  universe  somewhere  where  this  happens  again .    in  that  one  ,  she  may  have  been  seeking  athena  out  ,  if  only  to  go  over  the  notes  with  her .    reassure  them  that  they’re  capable  ,  and  eloquent  ,  and  have  looked  over  this  dozens  of  times  ,  you’re  going  to  kill  it   --

status: closed for @gorgonias​​ ! 📋​ location: kalavria deck. time: kalavria summit, week 1.

It’s only when the event ends and the crowd has dispersed that he decides to approach Dusa under the guise of casual conversation. There’s no one here but the two of them and Hades, who’s currently involved in some conversation with an event coordinator that isn’t Ariadne (which Achilles has to say pleases him more than it should) so he feels secure enough to speak. That doesn’t stop him from bowing his head or keeping the volume of his voice low. “I have some extra work for you to do.”

Extra might be an understatement. “I’m assuming that most people won’t be paying attention to you when you walk into a room… that sounded worse as it came out of mouth. But I need you to keep an ear out for anything interesting you hear, if you think you can do that.”

and  then  there  were  three .    a  formerly  full  ballroom  ,  now  left  to  empty  chairs  ,  too  -  bright  screens  rotating  through  displays  for  this  week’s  panels  ,  and  the  three  of  them .    discounting  the  pontius  staff  member  ,  that  is .    the  room  still  buzzes  with  whatever  excitement  lingered  from  the  presentation  ,  and  it  half  -  feels  like  the  seats  are  still  full .    a  silent  congregation  waiting  for  the  next  subject  to  take  the  stage .

That love of his, that love that is a music box, is demanding to be closed. He had to find it in him to work against that spring coil mechanism and snap it shut, wrestle it down with all the strength he has. Dusa deserves though, right before he does, to get one look inside. Fuck, this is all wrong, he should be sitting up when he tells her this. Should be looking at her in the eye as she mutters something about healthy communication. He almost chokes on a laugh as he sits up. Healthy is optimistic - though it did often feel like they were the last two optimists that Tartarus had left to offer. You can’t lose her.

And it seems Dusa felt Tartarus had some sort of hold on her as well. There’s mentions of self-sabotaging too - he understands that. Zagreus crosses his legs, so he’s sitting knee to knee with her. He gives very few fucks about the papers underneath. He’s searching for her eyes, a gaze to meet. Dusa’s recount of her love for Hermes is not a surprise, he’s had front row seats to this story for a very long time. “The short version huh?” Zagreus says quietly. It’s just as effective as the long version, except, he was there to see this part, wasn’t he? All those years of the song of them unraveling. He recognizes the moments she’s talking about, feels her hurt as if it were his own.  It’s her tears on his fingers tips when the call is made after all.

She’s looking at him now, waiting.

“You came up because we were talking about people we love. People that we both love.”

And here he is. On the doorstep of the confession, suddenly feeling like the third body in the room. He watches himself tell her something he feels she’s already known. His voice comes down to a near whisper, like he’s telling her something sacred. It is, to him.

“I told them about the crush I had on you.” It’s a relief, to express it with such simplicity. It sweeps through him like a spring breeze, then the words are blowing towards her, like dandelion seeds. “I don’t know when it began,” He adds quickly, “so there’s no point in asking because I’ll just say it was when you were six and you lost your two front teeth. It wasn’t always there, but then it always was.” He hands hands are on his knees. “I’m telling now because, I had every intention of never saying a word about it, but then it came out during this fight and - and I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else, I wanted you to hear it from me.”

It should feel terrifying to crack open his rib cage in this manner, show her the precise location of his heart. But it’s not, it’s not. It’s been nothing but gentle in the palm of her hand.

“You get it, right? Why I didn’t talk about it until now?”

Something moves in the House of Hades, sleeping bodies, clockwork shifting, but Zagreus sits still. The butterflies that explode at the pit of his stomach come to a quivering stop, waiting and waiting for whatever comes next.

"  mhm .    the  director’s  cut  is  way  too  long  to  get  into .  ”

it’s  a  mirror .    he’s  holding  onto  whatever  it  is  in  his  metaphorical  fist  and  they’re  firmly  on  the  ground  ,  but  for  the  way  something  coils  in  her  chest  ,  they  could  be  back  at  the  edge  of  a  bar  in  the  sky .    teetering  ,  breathless  ,  at  the  precipice .

people  we  both  love .    for  a  nanosecond  ,  she  almost  wants  to  stop  him  before  he  can  continue .    there’s  no  coming  back  from  whatever’s  said  next .    whether  it’s  by  the  fates  ,  chaos  ,  order  ,  or  the  void  itself  ,  maybe  there’s  no  stopping  what  comes  next  ,  either .

“  zagreus   --  ”    it’s  quiet  ,  easy  to  be  missed  as  he  lets  go .    there’s  no  balance  to  find  when  he  steps  off  the  ledge .    takes  her  with  him .    a  tapestry  unraveling .

so  here  they  are  :    a  case  study  in  how  to  break  at  least  a  hundred  different  rules  in  half  a  dozen  different  codes  ,  and  cross  just  as  many  muddled  lines .    no  ,  more  than  a  hundred  rules .    she  thinks  she’s  breaking  just  as  many  with  the  way  tension  bleeds  from  her  shoulders .    call  it  relief  in  a  different  form .    he  said  it  first  ,  so  i’m  absolved .    exonerated  of  any  half  -  baked  crimes  that  were  too  much  to  think  about .    that  couldn’t  be  thought  about .    it  wasn’t  always  there  ,  but  then  it  always  was .    this  ping  -  pongs  between  her  ears .    all  of  it  does  ,  really  ,  but  that’s  what  will  echo  when  she  tries  to  sleep  later .

dusa  likes  to  think  that  she’s  good  with  words  ,  but  she’s  just  as  good  at  losing  all  sense  of  tact .

“  i  love  than .  ”    she  says  it  and  ,  for  a  moment  ,  it  feels  like  she  took  zag’s  line .    admittedly  ,  it’s  a  strange  first  response .    she  scrunches  her  nose .    shifts  so  that  she’s  nearly  mirroring  his  cross  -  legged  position  ,  with  hands  that  settle  on  top  of  his  rather  than  her  knees .    “  let  me  try  that  again .   i  love  than  ,  and  i  love  hermes  ,  and  meg  ,  and  tartarus  ,  and  i  love  you .  ”    she  says  all  this  and  it’s  sloppy  and  unrehearsed  but  each  piece  is  important  ,  somehow .    there’s  no  acknowledging  this  without  the  rest  ,  is  there ?    all  these  shining  red  threads  ,  and  the  knot  at  the  intersection  of  them .

“  i’m  sure  i’m  transparent  enough  where  all  that  goes  without  saying  ,  but  i  don’t  think  i  say  it  enough  ,  so  there  it  is .    this  place  ,  and  you  ,  are  so  important  to  me .    there’s  no   --  ”    there’s  no  me  without  you .    not  this  version  ,  as  i  am  here .    dusa  doesn’t  finish  the  thought .    instead  ,  she  releases  the  breath  she’s  been  running  on .    

There’s a question wading towards him. Several, he thinks, stuck in the tile grout on their way to Than’s place against the floor. He tries to parse them out – really, honestly. Tries to pick them up from where they’ve fallen between them, pack them tight in his mouth and swallow down. But moving hurts. Thinking about moving hurts. So Than looks at each question, their little unanswered puddle on the floor. He takes a deep breath. Starts with the most recent, and works backwards. 

That evening a year or so back. Than doesn’t remember, but he nods his cheek against her thigh like he does. Agony, fresh with every degree he demands from his spinal chord. Worth it, though. It’d be rude for Dusa to think he was ignoring her. To think he wasn’t fighting his way through a sinkhole to say something back – and say it in a way that won’t have her calling his mother. 

Do you know how long you’ve been here? This one’s harder, because he should know. But he has to spool back further to find Dusa’s answer to the time and the harder he tries the more the film reel of the night unravels between his hands. He closes his eyes – Fates fuck, even that hurts – and starts counting until the numbers feel right. 

Three. Three. She said almost three. Chaos fuck, it’s been –

“Two hours.” It comes out mangled, half swallowed from the tongue still stuck and swollen in his mouth, gasped into the space he’d clawed out for himself to breathe. Than tries again. “Two hours, I think. Made Hyp go to bed before one.” That, he remembers, a break in the fever long enough to usher his brother into the dark room, promises and please folded between both their sets of teeth. 

“Don’t you – work tomorrow?” A very Thanatos question, borne only by a desperation for normalcy. A grasping at what he might say if his body wasn’t convulsing itself inside out. Truthfully, he’d do anything to get her to stay just a little longer.

on  some  level  ,  dusa  knows  she  should  contact  someone .    nyx  ,  maybe  ,  or  a  doctor .    someone  even  slightly  qualified  is  better  than  nothing  ,  right ?    so  yes  ,  there’s  some  logic  -  bearing  sect  of  her  brain  that  acknowledges  that  just  maybe  he  could  use  more  than  this .    unfortunate  ,  then  ,  that  that  part  consistently  is  overshadowed  by  the  part  the  two  of  them  share  that  wants  to  keep  things  private .

two  hours  ,  he  says .    it  sounds  like  they  nearly  asphyxiate  on  it .    two  hours  that   --   void .    a  lot  can  happen  in  two  hours .

“  if  i’m  pushing  too  much  ,  you  don’t  have  to  say  anything .  ”    the  pressure  of  her  hand  is  feather  -  light  when  she  pushes  away  some  of  the  hair  stuck  at  the  back  of  than’s  neck .    "  focus  on  breathing .  ”

she  knows  metaphors .    could  practically  write  a  thesis  on  them  and  the  number  of  times  she’s  had  emotional  doors  closed  in  her  face .    than  asking  what  he  does  next  could  be  another  one .    may  not  be .    don’t  you  work  tomorrow ?    it’s  not  a  request  to  go .    just  a  characteristic  question .    yes  ,  but  don’t  you  know  you’re  more  important  than  that ?

(   the  actual  ,  physical  door  opens  a  tad  ,  almost  on  its  own .    a  shadow  squeezes  through  the  gap .    the  dark  is  fluid  ,  and  stares  back  at  her  with  almost  supernaturally  yellow  eyes .    morph  ,  coming  to  make  himself  comfortable .    his  purrs  are  like  a  chainsaw  as  he  shoves  the  brunt  of  his  body  against  dusa’s  thigh   /   the  crown  of  than’s  head .    after  some  meandering  the  cat  finally  lays  on  the  floor  ,  caught  between  the  wall  ,  than’s  back  ,  and  her  side .   )

The piece of paper strikes him in the chest, something something arrow through the heart. Dusa’s tucking her legs underneath her, just like he found her on that couch in olympe. Her lips curve up. Isn’t it a kindness, to keep her like this? Zagreus knows that’s not how the truth works. His mother is close, perhaps thats why he feels brave.

“We got into a fight - it’s not really my place to say about what, because it’s not about me, not really. But your name came up, and we talked about you for a bit -” He tips backwards and rolls onto his back, so he’s facing away from her, eyes tracing the stone of the ceiling.  He wonders if, on some level, she knows what he’s meandering towards. Wonders if she minds really. A meandering hardly matters when your arms are looped with the right people, huh? How to express this particular sentiment though. He’d had plenty of time to grow used to it — and had grown to learn to ignore it.

“- Why did the two of you break up?” Zagreus asks. This is stalling, but it also isn’t. For all the ways their footfalls land in sync, they’ve never really talked about what they crush underfoot. “You’ve never really talked about it…” He finally turns his head towards her. Huffs away the stray corner of a file that tickles his nose. Her fly away hairs cause of that bun have got her in a halo. “It’s okay if you still don’t want to talk about it.”

It feels like plenty of Dusa’s life has been her running from things, first her family and then, maybe even Hermes. He hopes she knows her home is here, but he finds himself suddenly and desperately wanting to know all about what she’s left behind - if only so he and this place never become that: a thing she wants to erase.

he’s  building  to  something .    that  much  she  knows  when  he  turns  away  ,  looks  skyward .    it  doesn’t  feel  like  an  avoidance  tactic  ,  not  really  ,  but  she  does  get  that  feeling .    the  one  that  strikes  just  before  the  lights  come  up  in  a  theatre  ,  in  the  final  seconds  of  a  sporting  match  ,  in  the  fleeting  moments  before  meteors  collide  in  orbit .    anticipation  ,  maybe  ,  of  peace  disrupted .    the  haunting  prolepsis  of  inevitable  things .

she’ll  look  back  on  this  in  a  week  and  wonder  if  she  was  really  surprised  by  what  was  coming .    dusa  always  had  been  reckless  with  her  own  heart  ,  and  zag  was  much  of  the  same .

we  got  into  a  fight .    she  hums  in  reply .    cousins  ,  practically  brothers   –   at  least  in  all  the  ways  that  mattered .    fights  weren’t  uncommon  ,  but  the  way  he  talks  of  it  carries  a  weight  none  of  the  others  had  before .    everything  raises  more  questions .    the  nature  of  the  rheas  ,  one  supposes .

but  then  he’s  passing  it  off  to  her .    a  change  of  track  ,  a  momentary  detour .    cheek  catches  between  her  teeth .

"  no  ,  it’s  reasonable  to  ask .  ”    dusa  nods  ,  shoulder  raising  in  a  crooked  shrug .    “  talking  about  it  is  the  healthy  thing  to  do  anyway ,  right ?  ”    only  fitting  that  she’s  being  asked  to  open up  on  the  surgery  room  floor  of  his  childhood  bedroom .    she’s  certain  these  are  load  bearing  walls  ,  with  the  number  of  things  she’s  said  and  left  to  grow  or  rot  in  this  room .    (   coming  here  at  fourteen  ,  after  talking  to  achilles .    here  ,  the  first  night  in  the  house  when  she  couldn’t  sleep .    here  ,  after  the  breakup  ,  like  she  wasn’t  sure  where  else  to  go .    always  picking  up  the  pieces  when  she  needed  him  to .   )    “  um .    the  short  version  is   .   .   .   toward  the  end  ,  hermes  asked  me  to  move  to  olympe .    to  move  in  with  him .  ”

for  all  she  thinks  she  gets  right  ,  it’s  so  easy  for  her  to  want  to  bury  what  she  gets  wrong .

“  but  i   –   i  couldn’t  leave  tartarus .    or  wouldn’t  leave  ,  i  guess .    if  i  couldn’t  ,  i  wouldn’t  have  felt  so  guilty  for  saying  no .    and  it’s  not  like  i  could  have  expected  him  to  come  here  ,  with  zeus’  expectations  somewhere  in  the  background .  ”    she  tugs  at  a  loose  thread  in  the  blanket  hanging  near  her .    looks  back  at  him .    “  which  gets  to  what  you  do  know .    the  distance  got  harder  ,  and  that  was  why .    or  maybe  i  was  just  self  -  sabotaging .    hindsight  ,  and  all  that .  ”

closed to @gorgonias where: helicon, pontius when: the hour of the leviathan; hours before the tech & tourism panel

“I’m sure you’d heard and noticed,” he begins, scowling in the general direction of the crowds, the throngs gravitating towards the splendor of the stage, towards the sun to bathe themselves in its warmth. They, him and Dusa, find their own hideaway in one of the shaded cabanas far off from the stage, and its quieter, calmer, better for the candid conversation he wants to have. He peers at her through his sunglasses, gauging her reaction, “Zagreus has decided to shadow me. Become more involved in Khton. He’s not gotten in your way, has he?” 

.   .   .

 who :    @gorgonias​​ ,   hermes   rhea .

 what :    you ,   me ,   a   bottle   of   champagne .

 where :    ext .   rooftop   garden ,   atop   helicon .

 when :    kalavria ,   night   one .   eleven   years   since   our   first   date .

 why :     tradition ,   nostalgia ,   codependency .   and   love ,   probably .

 pontius   is   an   impressive   creature .   a   living ,   breathing ,   city   perched   atop   the   waves .    an   absolute   spectacle   of   a   home .   hermes   will   never ,   ever   tire   of   it .   nor   will   he   tire   of   showing   it   off .   and   if   there’s   someone   on   this   planet   worth   showing   off   for ,   it’s   dusa   gorgonia .   especially   tonight .   tucked   away   towards   the   stern ,   on   the   highest   point   of   the   ship ,   is   a   small    garden .   it’s   lavish ,   flourishing ,   a   testament   to   patroclus   and   the   sheer   tenacity   of   weather   resistant   flora .   twin   weeping   cherry   trees   wind   into   one   another ,   branches   twisting   around   like   fingers   entwined .   flickering   fairy   lights   dot   the   plants ,   tealights   bob   on   the   shimmering   surface   of   the   pool .      pontius   has   many   an   impressive   locale ,   opulent   ball   rooms   and   state   of   the   art   laboratories ,   but   this   one ,   this   key  -  code   only   garden   with   it’s   saltwater   pool   and   trickling   fountain ,   this   storybook   place   that   opens   to   the   stars ,   this   he   knew   would   impress   dusa .    he’s   leaning   back   on   his   elbows ,   legs   dangling   in   the   pool ,   cigarette   on   his   lip .   when   dusa   arrives ,   he   jerks   his   head   in   the   direction   of   the   champagne   in   the   ice   bucket   beside   him   and   holds   his   cigarette   out   on   offer .     ❛ ❛   you’re   late .   i   started   without   you .   ❜ ❜

he’s  going  to  be  the  death  of  her .

dramatic  ,  maybe  ,  but  suitable  for  the  way  she  feels  when  she  steps  into  the  garden .    vibrant  blooms  ,  salty  air  ,  the  stars  scattered  like  mica  in  the  dark  ,  and  hermes .    hermes  ,  stretched  out  by  a  pool .    hermes  ,  with  that  chronic  half  -  amused  edge  to  their  eyes .    chaos  help  her .

“  i  would  have  been  on  time  but  somebody   –  ”    she  lowers  into  the  space  next  to  him  ,  accepts  the  outstretched  cigarette .    “  didn’t  give  a  dress  code .    took  me  twice  as  long  to  get  ready .  ”

there’s  something  about  the  scene  that  gives  renewed  life  to  that  damn  host  of  butterflies  in  her  stomach .    no  ,  she’s  not  nervous .    but  if  there  was  anywhere  she  could  be  ,  anywhere  that  she  could  lose  all  progress  and  go  tumbling  back  ,  she  thinks  this  would  be  the  place .    the  setting  where  she  could  open  the  crate  and  let  them  go  ,  let  them  flutter  to  their  heart’s  content  among  the  cherry  trees .    she  won’t  ,  can’t  ,  but  there’s  some  semblance  of  solace  in  the  concept .

who: @gorgonias

where: zagreus’ room, house of hades 

when: feb 2130, prelude to kalavria

It’s a slow growing thing, the sound of his love for her. A few notes that grow into a tune that grow into a song. The click of her small shoes on the tile of hospital floor when her family comes to offer their condolences grows into the shifting chime of the sequins on her dress as they race down the halls of the house of hades grows into the sound of her voice, outside his dad’s office at Khton. A melody in the making - but there’s never a crescendo, that’s the important thing. Zagreus ensures that the record skips, resets, and they can’t get to that part, that they never get to that part. Some things are meant to stay unrealized, no matter how easily the sound of them comes to you.

He’d mentioned this to Hermes, in so far as telling them that this song was a thing to be buried. And Zagreus believed that - still believes that. He’d built a music box of sorts around his love for Dusa, meant to be held and listened to, even if the song played was never in it’s entirety. He closes the lid on it before it grows - but even in its clipped and truncated form, it had become one of his deepest treasures. Healed his deepest hurt, steadied him when he was on a five hour train back home -

 This whole matter with Hermes and Than and Ari was boiling over faster than he could keep track of, faster than his heart maybe even wanted. And now, there was Dusa, in the mix too. Zagreus knew that if Dusa were to find out about his latest reveal from any other person, other than himself, it could easily crumble the trust that played so well between them.

And Zagreus knew this: he could not lose her. She could leave, that would be fine. She could wake up one morning, and decide Tartarus was not for her, and Zagreus would make his peace with it. But if her departure came from his own actions, from a trust shattered that could have easily have been avoided, Zagreus would never be able to forgive himself.

So this is the scene: it something of the flavor of two am, they are in his room. She has built a nest for herself with the files he’s pulled from the archives. Cerberus has taken guard of the door. Zagreus notices the time, and notices the letters in front of him have turned to soup. He tears off a corner of a page, folds into into a triangle, and flicks it at her so it hits her on the shoulder. He means to say: Hey, let’s call it a night, you need to be up at seven and you should get some sleep. What he says instead is:

“Hey, remember how I said that Hermes and I got into a fight? I think I’m ready to talk about it.”

she’s  familiar  with  unresolved  things .    the  final  night  of  heteraidia  was  full  of  them  ,  but  between  than’s  recovery  and  zag’s  new  role  and  hades’  panel  preparation   --   well  ,  she  hasn’t  had  time  to  dwell  on  it .    no  opportunity  to  think  about  all  the  little  details  and  pieces  she  was  given  ,  before  stopping  just  short  of  what  it  would  take  to  step  back  and  see  the  entire  picture .

maybe  she’s  okay  with  that .    she  was  busy  ,  after  all  ,  that  was  fine .    and  maybe  ,  on  some  level  ,  she  knew  it  was  best  she  didn’t  get  those  integral  ,  central  pieces  of  the  puzzle .    sometimes  nothing  was  better  than  something   --   consider  it  a  form  of  self  -  preservation  from  the  unknown .

so  one  day  turned  into  two  weeks .

and  ,  at  some  point  ,  9  pm  turns  into  11  pm .    they’re  encircled  in  all  these  hard  copies  of  work  from  thirty  years  or  more  ago .    her  hair’s  pulled  back  in  some  haphazard  bun  so  she  can  focus  ,  though  most  of  it’s  loose  ,  and  there’s  this  magnetic  ,  fervent  gleam  in  his  eyes  as  they  bounce  things  off  one  another .    your  mother’s  brilliant  ,  zag .    is  ,  was .    tense  doesn’t  matter  when  reading  this  work  leaves  her  reeling  ,  as  if  she’s  been  swept  up  into  the  brain  of  this  woman  she’ll  never  meet .    she  knows  she  would  have  liked  to .    these  ideas  for  tartarus   .   .   .   fates .    what  are  you  thinking ?

in  the  house  of  hades  ,  there’s  no  telling  when  darkness  falls  like  a  guillotine  up  above .    the  seconds  stretch  ,  the  seconds  fold  in  on  themselves  ,  and  11  bleeds  out .    it’s  easy  to  lose  track  of  time  between  the  beats  of  her  heart .    (   hasn’t  it  always  been  that  way  around  him ?    the  simplicity  ,  the  gentle  contentment .    the  two  of  them  ;   attached  at  the  hip  ,  she  remembers  one  of  the  adults  tsking  when  she  was  eight  ,  thirteen  ,  twenty .   )    somewhere  in  the  house  ,  a  clock  chimes  twice .

dusa  has  read  the  same  sentence  four  times  when  something  jabs  into  her  shoulder .

“  hey !  ”    a  brighter  ,  less  hazy  mimicry  of  her  objection  two  weeks  ago .    the  upturn  of  her  lips  is  gradual  in  the  late  hour  ,  but  undeniably  there  ,  as  she  grabs  the  triangle  and  flicks  it  back  toward  him .    “  watch  it .  ”    it  knocks  off  his  chest   /   bounces  once  ,  twice  ,  and  stops  somewhere  among  the  blanket  of  papers .    dusa  finally  sets  aside  the  folder  splayed  open  in  her  lap  and  opens  her  mouth  to  say  something  about  kalavria  ,  or  how  to  bring  something  or  another  into  2130  ,  or  maybe  nothing  relevant  at  all  ,  when   --

Here’s the thing about experimental substances: there’s no roadmap and no guidebook. Both for how to take them (safely or, as Than’s want to do, otherwise) and how to wean yourself off. Than is, as he has always been in these matters, at the mercy of his brother’s expertise. Sometimes he listens to what Hypnos knows: dosages, half-lives, permissible mixtures (short answer: none). Knowledge that comes equal parts from chemistry and practical experience. But here, the roadblock. No one’s detoxed from Morpho. Or Lethe. Or Argus. Certainly not all three and the terrifying cocktail they cook up in the bloodstream. Each hour after the next is a blind corner, Thanatos pressing his foot down to floor. 

He isn’t sure what time it is. Late. Possibly very early. The time of night where silence sits like a blanket instead of a straightjacket, where Than could listen closely and hear the whole house exhale. If he could hear anything but the frantic beating of his own heart. His phone is somewhere and he should check it. Probably. He might have dropped it on his way down to the floor, which came up to greet him faster than he was prepared for. Still, it’s nice, the cool tile a balm on his too-hot skin. 

Time passes. Than knows this because he tries to stand twice and fails both times, arranging his limbs after each in a way that most reduces the ache. When Dusa finds him it’s contemplating a third try, knees wedged between the sink and the wall, cheek to tile. He can hear her, tries to say something stupid like, I’m fine. Or, it looks worse than it is. He finds his tongue requires peeling from the roof of his mouth, and only manages the energy for it once his head is in her lap. 

He wants to say, please don’t. He wants to say, you don’t have to be here for this. He wants say, go back to bed. But he’s played his hand at pushing the people he loves away. No more cards to spend, and even if he had – Dusa’s come up from behind, wrapping her hands right around him. He couldn’t shake her off if he tried. If he wanted to. 

“’t time is it?”

“  almost  three  in  the  morning  ,  ”    she  says  ,  little  more  than  a  murmur  in  the  quiet .    her  hands  are  remarkably  steady  as  they  rove  away  from  his  forehead .    one  ,  toward  her  phone .    the  other  ,  to  his  shoulder .    “  do  you  know  how  long  you’ve  been  in  here ?  ”    there’s  no  subtlety  to  her  motive  :    keep  than  talking .    keep  his  mind  here  ,  grounded  in  whatever  way  they  both  can  manage  ,  instead  of  whatever  place  it  is  that  she  can’t  follow .    (   there’s  no  example  to  emulate  or  rules  to  comply  by  in  this  moment .    it’s  all  instinct  and  her  mind  running  a  thousand  miles  ahead  and  a  little  bit  of  fear .   )

even  though  chirpy  ,  always  see  the  bright  side  of  life  dusa  is  her  modus  operandi  ,  positive  isn’t  quite  how  she  would  describe  herself  right  now .    that  small  dose  of  dread  ,  that  hot  stone  of  uncertainty  in  the  pit  of  her  stomach  ,  is  what  grips  her  by  the  throat .

her  phone  vibrates  in  her  hand .    she  can’t  tell  if  the  tremor  in  her  opposite  is  than  shaking  ,  or  inhaling  ,  or  if  it’s  of  her  own  volition .    are  they  okay ?    how  do  they  look ?    the  notification  pops  off  her  screen .    she  faces  the  screen  to  the  ground .    doesn’t  respond  right  away .

this  will  pass .    it  has  to .    like  any  other  form  of  withdrawal .    because  that’s  what  this  is  ,  right ?    that’s  what  it  looks  like  ,  and  it’s  visceral .    light  a  match  nearby  and  than  may  be  enough  to  spark  a  fire .

she’s  always  been  a  fixer  in  a  different  sense  of  the  word  than  him .    to  a  fault  ,  arguably .

–

Alecto isn’t used to wandering aimlessly. It’s early, but still late enough to make them feel as though they should have been working against the empty time, to fill it with something of importance. Still walking the ledge of what’s expected of her, Alecto opts for at least looking like she’s busy.

But it’s hard to do when there are so many familiar faces. It’d been two weeks, and yet, Alecto still yearned for them. Of course, even if she were able to, she’d never admit such a thing. Their cold exterior, so commonly deployed, steps in to shadow the longing that sets deep into her features. She shouldn’t have to worry about that for awhile, she doesn’t think. Or, at least, she hopes. 

Until Dusa is crashing into her. Belongings scattered between them, Alecto splays their hands across the floor to catch items from rolling. They look up to meet their stress-stricken friend’s gaze, but instead of a smile, they force their expression to shift into something annoyed, something absent of the affection she feels for Dusa – Dusa, who’s constantly rushing, heart in the palms of her hands, ready to drop it on the floor for the sake of getting it to you faster. “You’re clumsy everywhere, aren’t you?” Said out of affection, and Alecto thinks that Dusa will know that much. “You should watch where you’re going.” Firm, yet devoid of frustration. 

.   .   .

she  knows  it’s  all  painted .    the  irritation  in  the  line  of  alecto’s  jaw  is  little  more  than  a  falsehood  when  they’re  in  a  place  where  anyone  could  be  watching  ,  but  dusa  finds  that  she  still  wants  to  break  it .    she  knows  what  it’s  like  to  be  the  person  walking  away .    she’s  done  it  more  than  once  herself  ,  after  all .    (   thene  ,  euryale  ,  hermes   --   initials  ,  names  ,  etched  onto  her  like  sigils .    these  are  my  hands  ,  euryale  and  thene  touched  me  here .    this  is  my  heart  ,  carved  into  like  a  tree .    on  and  on .   )    she  wonders  when  watching  people  turn  their  back  in  return  will  hurt  less .    even  if  it’s  only  temporary .

she  knows  ,  she  knows  ,  she  knows  ,  but  more  than  that  ,  she  wants .    it’s  an  old  tune .

the  thing  about  silence  is  that  it  doesn’t  always  read  like  a  warning .

the  house  of  hades  ,  after  all  ,  isn’t  exactly  a  small  place .    there’s  hallways  upon  hallways  and  ,  in  the  dead  of  night  ,  it’s  as  quiet  as  death  and  order .    one  could  exist  peacefully  in  one  area  of  the  house  and  not  realize  other  people  dwell  in  the  depths  at  all .    let  the  blue  -  green  path  light  the  way  ,  deeper  and  deeper  ,  to  the  core  of  the  house .    to  the  heart  of  the  fire .    it’s  not  a  red  flag  for  her  light  footsteps  to  be  the  only  sound  in  the  halls .

the  red  flag  is  what  echoes  between  her  ears  :    he’s  taking  this  all  on  himself  and  i  can’t  be  the  one  to  take  care  of  him  for  it .    i  -  i  need  to  know  someone  will   .   .   .   i’m  glad  you’re  not  here  to  see  me  like  this .    what  are  you  two  trying  to  handle  alone  ,  thanatos ?    what  small  universe  rests  at  the  apex  of  your  spine ?

it  takes  half  an  hour  to  find  him .    he’s  nowhere  ,  until  suddenly  he’s  everywhere .    when  she  comes  across  than  ,  they’re  curled  up  on  the  cool  floor  of  a  small  bathroom  near  hyp’s  room  ,  alone .    her  stomach  drops  to  her  feet .    frenetic  heart  stutters .