don't look back

hear, o gods, my desperate plea to see my love beside me

independent/private/selective rp blog for Orpheus from Supergiant’s Hades

will RP with any Hades character! also open to mythological characters who don’t appear in-game, and OCs with fleshed-out about pages at my discretion.

if we’re mutuals, like this post or send an ask with a prompt (whether from one of the memes I’ve posted or not), and I’ll write up a starter. if we’re not mutuals, feel free to send an ask anyway, or follow me and like this post so I can check out your blog.

Muse & Rules | Memes & Starters

other rp blogs: zagreus | thanatos

When Eurydice first suggested that they might perform at this...club, in Elysium, Orpheus was skeptical. Was making music together not enough? He no longer sought the spotlight; he was the court musician to Lord Hades, and that honor was quite grand enough. Between his work and his time with his muse, he was more than satisfied.

But Eurydice told him--and rightly so, he now agrees--that if they were going to compose new songs to chronicle new deeds, such as those of Orpheus’ dear friend Prince Zagreus, then should they not show those songs to a new audience and let them spread? At least throughout the Underworld, if they can’t be brought up to the surface. Besides, she said, no one recognized her for her talents when they were alive; and Orpheus promised her that he would ensure no one in the Underworld would ever doubt her genius again.

Now, he even goes there alone sometimes, to play accompaniment for various dancers and other performers. Like Choreftria, for instance.

The mention of Zagreus brings a near-imperceptible shift in Death Incarnate’s eyes. Thanatos distracts himself by letting his eyes fall to Orpheus’s lyre, the court musician’s nimble fingers deftly against the strings. 

“It… it is,” Than finally admits. “He has a way of… reconnecting people.” His expression was still but his voice betrayed a certain pride. “There is nothing that you may do that you aren’t already doing. Thank you… for gracing these halls with your song. Your music is serene and calming.” It absolutely baffles Than then. He’s hardly ever been the type for conversation and yet… the prince must be rubbing off on him.

With a soft huff, Thanatos shakes his head, “I was just passing through. Please, do not let me interrupt you.”

Orpheus doesn’t smile--he hasn’t smiled in ages--but his gaze grows a bit wistful. “That he does. I am so very glad that I may call him a dear friend. And judging by the look in your eyes, you consider him the same.” It’s quite a surprise to see such a thing on the usually grim and expressionless face of Death--but perhaps it isn’t so surprising, if only because it’s Zagreus they speak of.

He inclines his head in a small bow of acknowledgment. “You are quite welcome. It’s an honor to know that my music can soothe the worries of even Death himself.” When he was alive, such a thing would have fed his ego--he knew even then that his gift was sufficient to sway even the strict and forbidding Lord of the Underworld--but now, it merely gives him the smallest sliver of hope. That perhaps, one day or night, he may rediscover the means to soften the master’s heart once more...though he hardly deserves such consideration, he knows.

Orpheus has never been gladder for another’s silence than he is for the boatman’s now. He does not think he could speak intelligibly even if the imposing figure at the boat’s prow did address him.

To think...a second chance. Never, never did he believe he would earn one. Even now, he hasn’t, not really--this is all thanks to the prince and his boundless generosity, the infinite kindness of his divine heart. But he will not squander this opportunity--not again. Never again. This time, oh this time, he will cling to faith with all the will he has left.

Unless, of course, she doesn’t want to see him.

Zagreus said she did, but...ah. Orpheus plucks idly at his lyre and shakes his head. Here he is, doubting yet again already. That will not do.

By the time the boat pulls up to the little dock and Charon grunts to signal their arrival, Orpheus has steeled himself as best he can. He gives the boatman a nod and a murmured thanks as he steps onto the dock and further, toward...toward...

Oh. Oh, how he trembles, as the sweetest, most heavenly voice he knows drifts to his ears from just ahead. He blinks wetness from his eyes...he mustn’t cry, not now. She would no doubt have some, ah...rather unimpressed words for him, should he appear to her in tears. But his heart fills with a light as bright as the sun at the sound of her singing--of her, singing, for the first time in so, so long.

He’d thought he might have to force one foot in front of the other, rather than standing here listening in cowardly silence until the boatman takes him back to the Lord’s House. But no--he moves forward as if in a trance, as if her voice pulls him as surely as the strongest river current.

And then there he is, stepping over the threshold into her home, standing at her door cradling his lyre in his arms, and she looks just the same as his memories of her. And he can say nothing, at first, but then...

Then his faith is rewarded. She says she wants him still, and endless days or nights spent listlessly existing without her wash away in the Styx like so much rubble.

A grin lights up the goddess’ features at that; a clear display of her appreciation for the other’s compliment.

Truth be told, she should not be one to fall for flattery all too easily - she was still a divine authority, after all, and such tactics had been used all too frequently in the past, to sway her heavenly family in the favour of mortals. Pleasantries were seen as a bribe, most of the time, friendship as yet another method of gaining what you most desired - and any sacrifices made to the Olympians? Nothing but a guarantee of staying off the deities’ bad side.

Quite a cynical worldview, that it was - perhaps this was the reason Spitha was never really prone to acknowledging it. She had had her moments of resignation, of doubt and despair, but in the end… she was the goddess of the unyielding, wasn’t she?

If she wasn’t going to believe in the very concept she represented, then what point did her existence even have?

“You are a flatterer,” she decides, a chuckle lingering in her voice. Perhaps this was exactly what he aimed for, what he intended to provide; flattery, for a goddess all too easily susceptible to it, but then again, did it really matter all that much? Would any of his theoretical hidden intentions even lead to anything at all, in the grand scheme of things? 

Spitha did not think it to be so. Besides - should the musician merely attempt sharing some of his kindness with the other, it would be terribly rude of her to dismiss it in quite this manner, wouldn’t it?

“Tough I must say, I do appreciate it.” she states, leaning her chin on her folded hand. She still wasn’t exactly an exactly well-known deity; as such, every tiny bit of recognition and worship was a welcome offering to her. 

“Your hardships failed to alter your approach toward the world, I see.” she muses. “There is bravery in that, you know? Kindness.” An odd enough sentiment, for a daughter of war; of, but wasn’t she her mother’s child, all the same? 

“Many have called me such a thing, but I am simply a poet who has learned to recognize the seeds of greatness when I see them.” Yes, people often called Orpheus ‘flatterer’ back in his mortal days. He always thought it implied that he wanted something from them, and in the end, perhaps he did--but if so, it was their stories he wanted, and their attention. Recognition. An audience. After all, what is a musician without these things?

“You are a goddess, are you not? I would think praise comes your way quite often, then. But truly, all I wish is to hear the tales of your divine exploits, your battles and deeds. I have, as of late, been unable to find inspiration anywhere, you see. One such as you may wake the spark within me, perhaps? Such is my hope, at least.”

Thanatos took a glance around his chambers. They were neat, orderly, pristine. He kept them in tip top shape even though he barely used them. Death scanned the room for something out of place, anything to draw his attention to and fix. For things before him, real things, were easy to set right. 

But affairs of the heart were something else entirely, weren’t they?

There was no easy way to calm himself or quell the thoughts bubbling over his mind. Ugh. He hated them… feelings. Could they be uninstalled perchance? They were causing nothing but grief it seemed. 

So deep in his anger and sadness was he that the music caught him completely by surprise. Death incarnate teleported closer to the sound. A safe distance away that he might observe it while not drawing too much attention to his investigation.

“Orpheus…?” He asked himself a short distance away. He hadn’t heard the musician’s notes through the House in… well… forever. Had he played before? Than couldn’t tell. He so rarely stayed long enough for anything though.

“I… take it you’ve found your muse again,” Than finally voiced as he drifted into the shade’s view. This was… uncommon for them; having such a conversation.

Oh...? That’s not a voice Orpheus hears often. His fingers continue to pluck out the notes of the song, but at the end of the phrase he looks up to see that, indeed, it is Death Incarnate floating there and speaking to him. He’s not sure that’s ever happened before, now that he thinks about it. Not even when he died, although if he’s honest with himself, he was in such a miserable state then that he barely noticed which of the Underworld’s psychopomps led him to his eternal afterlife here. Was it Death, or perhaps the Lord Hermes? No matter. Perhaps they spoke once, when Orpheus was first appointed court musician here.