BLEED TO DEATH?

@mene.my. 33. actor & musician. arcadian.

google doc. skeleton. musings. reflection. character studys. 

where — helicon, a hot tub  when — second week of kalavria summit with — @goldentheseus​​ & @menemycenae​​

There is something wrong about this set up. Mino is in Ariadne’s place and Theseus in his own and the place he would usually take goes unoccupied. He tries not to think of it, though, the twisted lack of a third member of their party, the way last time they conned Menelaus, his brother had still been there. There’s something wrong about it all and Mino wonders if they are testing the Fates, with this. But it’s a distraction for Theseus, something to pull him away from dark promises, and it could be a source of glee, down the line.

It has been too long, since a victory like this, after all.

So, he sits in a hot tub filled with scented oils and herbs, and there’s little distance between his own half-naked body and that of Gaia-renowned actor Menelaus Mycenae. Tonight, he is Selino Aetos, and he’s pretending to be more inebriated than he really is, some of his drinks emptied in a palm pot rather than his mouth. A line of Somnus blown away. “Now, Mene,” he says, pretending to lose his balance in the water and regaining it a few centimetres closer to him, thighs near-touching, “Tell me what it tastes of, all that fake blood. And is it a disaster to get off?”

Eyes flick to Theseus, who sits across the pair in the hot tub, and then he continues his line of questioning, “I can imagine that you might require help with it, sometimes.” He lowers his voice, as if it’s just between them, Selino and Menelaus, and no one else at all. “I thought it looked quite good on you, in that movie, is what I’m saying.” And if next time, you need someone to wash it off you … Well, you get it.

it's easy to get lost in revelry. a habit he picked up by a sad little boy, now a malignance that threatens to undo him entirely. there's a nervous tingle in the back of his mind, one that tells him every line of somnus could be the last straw. but that's something mene continues to brush to the side. a problem for another day. a day that never comes. for now, he continues to knock back drinks and snort lines, because it's better than letting the looming shadow of his brother drag him to the ugly depths of his mind. when he drinks, he can pretend to be happy. and when he can smile, he isn't a burden.

selino and nike are his company this time, and mene has to fight all the memories of unsuccessful flirting with the fighter with another line. now he can pretend that selino's lack of interest isn't crippling. he can even pretend that that whatever this is (the inching closer, the references to one of his sluttier roles, the compliments) doesn't make his head spin with confusion. mene grins with help of numerous substances, taking a sip of his cocktail. “doesn't taste half bad, actually. proper sweet. but yeah, all that sugar makes it real sticky.”

closed to: @menemycenae​ week two of the summit, night before HELE-N presentation; mene’s room

this is truly the last place he should find himself in tonight—and perhaps that’s why it makes perfect sense. cly can listen to amon practice for tomorrow for only so long before becoming…so many things at once; worried, annoyed, stressed, jealous? so instead of quietly nodding to his best friend reciting the prepared speech for the hundredth time, cly seeks out the only person who understands exactly why he needs the space to breathe.

he could always choose to be on his own but for once he does not want to. 

when it’s mene’s dog greeting him in the doorway, cly immediately takes a panicked step back; his entire body seizes and he lifts an arm as if to try to shield him. all this time and he still takes to the animal poorly. “sorry to bother—both of you, i guess,” the apology gets stuck so he has to clear his throat before continuing. “are you buys now?”

in all honesty, mene had no idea just how big biskóto would grow to be. he barely remembers the process of acquiring the howling puppy, let alone that it was a malamute and not a husky. now, he's not sure what he'd do without the weighted blanket with a heart that has kept him from spiralling into his loneliness more times than he can count. and that's where biskó lays as a knock sounds at the door.

it takes a moment for mene to push the ball of fur off and trudge to the door, and when he does, biskóto's head pops out from behind it before he does.

cly. mene instinctively grabs for biskóto's collar, holding the dog between his legs. after all, even if cly didn't love him the same way he loves amon, cly cared for mene time and time again. he can't not return the gesture. “he ain't gonna hurt ya, you know? he's just a little... intense.” mene suspects cly is here to slap mene's wrist over lies that left his lips during the masquerade, so there's no smile. “can't fuckin sleep, so, no. i ain't busy,” and then a suspicious, “why?”

when every fibre in his body is wound up so tightly and he's on the edge of snapping (and maybe breaking, but certainly damaging himself in the process) mene turns to hypnos. he wishes he wouldn't, not because hyp isn't a safe option, but because mene doesn't want to add to their list of burdens. hyp always knows how to lull him into calmness, and before long, mene finds himself on a private boat. 

hesperia finds its way to his tongue, and all the bad things in the world begin to fade away. it's in these moments, with his head on hyp's lap, looking up at the blinding sky, with biskóto laying over his legs, that mene thinks he is happiest. 

To say that Nyx had never liked Menelaus would be a vast understatement. She had thought he was trouble from the moment he first stepped foot in Tartarus, and he had managed to prove her right over and over and over again. She didn’t know what Zagreus and Hypnos saw in him, what differentiated him in their minds from every other addicted rich idiot who wasted their lives away in the Styx.

She certainly didn’t know what Thanatos had seen in him, and the knowledge that they’d been…involved grated at her every time she laid eyes on him. Thanatos had many, many good qualities, but she’d grown to realize that taste in partners was not at all one of them.

And yet, Menelaus was a paying customer. One of Tartarus’s most loyal. So as much as she would have liked to give him the chewing out of a lifetime when he turned to her, she just rolled her eyes and said, “It is a welcome reprieve from being on that gigantic abomination of a ship. I like the opportunities to see some of Aegean’s more natural sights. Even if Poseidon is actively destroying and rebuilding them in his image.”

She looked to Menelaus, tried to smile, though she was rather sure it came off more like a grimace. “Why are you attending the Summit? Have you gained an interest in technology?”

fingers twitch aggressively as he holds his hands behind his back, trying to force an air of calm. after all, he's always been good at lying to himself. menelaus wishes he had something smart to add to her response, something that might maybe redeem himself in her eyes even just slightly, but he comes up painfully blank. “right, yeah,” you fucking idiot, he tells himself. “boat is kinda cramped with the summit.” he wishes he could curl up into a ball and forget the world exists, especially nyx and her sharp gaze.

There is need for a break, even for the likes of Scylla Vardanyan, so unhealthily devoted to her work. The summit is cause of many an emotion which, is wholly distracting and simply annoying. There’s excitement and dissatisfaction, there is the gnawing presence of Charybdis and all her new friends, there is all the potential of failure and all the more potential of success. She does not succumb to stress, she’ll have you know: but she does need a break. 

The hot springs, then. She has found she likes them best abandoned, but that can’t be during these two weeks, where people trample around Pontius and its surroundings like mad pack animals. It’s a quiet hour, now, but still not completely desolate.

That is not to say Menelaus Mycenae is a wholly unwelcome sight. He’s hardly like the other attendees, and that is to say that he’s hardly as smart as them. Maybe this guy could offer reprieve, if only because he won’t ask her any too complicated questions. Scylla grins in greeting, is then pulled into a hug that has her stiffening. “Very well, very well. Good to see you, Mene.” She supposes she does meaning. She lets herself sink into the water, keeping at least a feet between herself and the actor. “My product is. Poseidon did a demonstration of Scalpel, did you see it?” Then, she shrugs. “No matter if not. We’re doing hands-on shit, too, if you ever wanna step by the augmentation demonstration station and try it out.” It would be good, to have someone like Menelaus don some Scalpel augmentations. His brother, too, but that seems like a can of worms best untouched. “But I didn’t come here to talk shop. How are you?”

she stiffens, and he thinks maybe he's done something wrong. it's always been easy to let paranoia win, and so he makes sure that their bodies are far enough apart that he won't mistakenly bump her when he isn't paying full attention to all his limbs and the space they take up. “oh, shit, yeah. that's you? damn. i mean, that demo was pretty insane. not that i'm surprised though, you's always proper smart.” he takes a sip of his cocktail, and at the mention of getting augmentations himself, his eyebrows raise as he swallows a mouthful.

“scylls, i have few redeeming features, and one of them is that i'm pretty. and if you tell me i could be prettier, i will cry,” he teases, but it's not a lie. he just might keep his tears for when she's no longer close enough to see or hear him. “ask amon, though, he could do with looking less... well, like that,” he huffs with some residual bitterness, but it's quickly swept away with the smile he forces back onto his lips. “mm, good. ‘cause you know i won't get any of it,” he chuckles, “but, yeah, i'm good,” he lies, “this whole thing would be way more fun if hele-n wasn't part of the show, though, gettin’ real sick of hearing people talk about them.”

It’s the latest in Bacchanalia’s beach wear line, and Dion considers it a triumph. The texture of her bodice-swimsuit creation is a muted-hued take on swim wear. A growing favorite among onlookers and fashionistas alike, who have taken Dion’s fashion show (because everywhere she went was surely that) and turned it into a pretty investment. On the business front, she is thriving, and she conceals the dark eyes of too much partying behind a pair of hot pink sunglasses. Fortunately, the sun does it’s purpose. Warm and comforting against her skin, she basks in the tranquility of it all. For a woman who does not crave silence, she blooms in it.

Then, comes the noise, and the perpetual slobber.

The sheer weight knocks Dion off her six-inch wedges (don’t ask her why she’s wearing heels at the beach). The dog pants over her, and Dion cringes visibly at its breathe. “Ew, ew, ew.” Never a pet person, she shakes her well manicured hand and attempts to coax the dog off. When Menelaus arrives, she shrieks ever further. “Ugh! Is that your mutt?” She scowls, a heavy glare back at Menelaus’ guilty smile. Really, did he ever stop preening? “What is he even doing without his leash? This is woven silk, for Fates’ sake!”

her raised voice makes him wince, a reaction he tries to control but he doesn't catch the discomfort that shines brightly on his face. while he knows that the relationship between dion and hera is rocky, having found himself in one too many tense situations between the two, mene can't help but fear that this will find its way to hera's ears, and resentment for him will grow. “i'm really, really sorry—”

the way she spits the word mutt triggers sparks of anger under his skin, but mene is thankful that fear extinguishes them before he's driven to snap in his loyal companions defence. instead, mene covers biskóto's ears, as if to say don't listen to her. his smile is long gone, only apologetic eyes and twitchy lips remain. “well, he's cooped up in my room all day and he needs to get his energy out—” he cuts himself short, eyes dropping, “i'm really sorry,” he offers quietly, barely able to hold eye contact anymore.

“if he ruined anything, i'll pay for it, sorry—”

after a week of torturous anticipation, it's time for amon to take the stage tomorrow. menelaus can't rest, pacing in his room while biskóto watches him with a curiously tilted head. and when night time settles over gaia, he still doesn't find a way to give himself any respite. having already become friendly with some of the staff aboard the ship, meme flags one down and they happily keep an eye on the dog while menelaus tries to work off some of his anxious energy. 

he hoped by this time, the pools would be empty, so he enters the space with his guard down. but that's the problem with this bloody boat, there are people everywhere he looks, friendly and unfriendly faces alike. hephaestus doesn't illicit the same reaction that nyx does (a fear so strong that he do almost anything to escape her presence) but nor does heph rival hera's warmth. mene hesitantly steps into the pool, not speaking up until hephaestus turns to look at him. 

“sorry about ruining your peace and quiet,” he offers with an anxious yet airy laugh. mene dips under the water entirely for a moment, and when he resurfaces, he pushes wet strands away from his face. all mene knows of the business between zeus and heph is learned through the media, far too scared to see if hera will tell him more. but the thought is ever present when he glances at the other, and his rogue tongue itches to ask more. “on a scale of one to ten, how much are you hating all the extra people round here? one being, ‘i haven't noticed’, ten being, ‘i'm moving back to olympe’.” he doesn't think his words through, he rarely does, and a wave of panic freezes his heart in his chest. did i say too much?

𝐖𝐇𝐎: DIOMEDES & OPEN 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄: PONTIUS, KALAVRIA 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: FEBRUARY 2130, WEEK TWO OF THE SUMMIT

The KALAVRIA SUMMIT seemed like strange ground to be treading at the moment. In fact, Diomedes didn’t think that it could have possibly come at a worse time – what, with their fitness for office being called into question over their investment into the company some twenty-odd years ago. Sure, they hadn’t exactly been transparent about the source of their wealth, and sure, they’d spent the majority of their Quorum career working alongside ODYSSEUS and his platform of technology regulation – and although the distance between herself and Odysseus stung and the public distrust felt unfair, they still didn’t see their decision to invest all those years ago as a poor decision. 

Perhaps one which had become more trouble than it was worth, but still one which had benefitted her until now.

Diomedes had been keeping something of a low profile since arriving at the Summit – trying their hardest to avoid anyone who might seek to probe them with questions they didn’t yet feel like answering. It was easy enough to do so when all eyes aboard Pontius seemed to be on the stars of the event ( or those who had been populating the tabloids far more than Diomedes herself ), but they found themselves entering the second week of the summit with still very little sense of direction aboard the expansive ship. 

“Excuse me –” She says, grabbing the attention of the nearest person, “You wouldn’t happen to know where the Governance and Tech in Gaia is being held, would you?”

maybe he's here out of spite, because mene is certainly not in attendance to support his brother. but if that's the case, and his heart is a dark thing, drowning in hate, how could be deserving of any good thing he has? even if that list gets smaller and smaller, helpless as he watches distance grow between friends.

he rubs his nose, pinching his nostrils shut to momentarily soothe the skin irritated by white powder as he wanders through the ship. mene isn’t sure he has an aim, at least he didn't leave his room with one, but his eyes are kept peeled, anxiously keeping an eye out for a familiar shade of blonde at his eye level, with sharp, demon-like features. there was once a time where amon was seen as angelic, but menelaus was just a child, and he's long since outgrown that view.

he's hardily one for tours, having never been good at being able to quietly sit and listen, especially when someone uses words he doesn't understand. but it's better than staring at the ceiling of his room, even if biskóto's weight on top of him is soothing. at least there are people to talk to here, eyes that brighten when they clock menelaus mycenae. he only feels important when he's actively wanted.

it's a relief the atmosphere isn't dead silent, and he can keep himself thoroughly distracted by the fish that pass underfoot and the endless questions sent his way. this was supposed to be time to relax, but as he's beginning to zone out from the current conversation, he recognises a familiar outline. shit. mene is quick to turn around, hoping she won't realize he's here. but the tour has only just started, and he has nowhere to run to, only a group of bodies that aren't tall enough to hide behind gracefully. 

he silently thanks the fates that this conversation drones on. mene is long past being able to absorb any of the words, only able to think about the possibility of nyx staring daggers into the back of his head. but that luck doesn't last, and people excuse themselves to pay more attention to the tour, leaving him open and vulnerable. perhaps the fates are laughing at him today, because nyx becomes free of her conversation too, and everyone knows menelaus can't handle silences. “oh, nyx, i didn't see you there,” he lies, forcing a smile to hide the lack of eye contact he gives her. “uh, how are you liking the tour?” he asks, nervously stuffing his hands into his pockets.

the hot springs were supposed to be a little breath of relaxation, where his muscles would be forced to relax as he sips on cocktails, neck deep in the warm water. but it becomes increasingly more apparent that so long as amon is here, mene can't rest. no amount of margaritas and drugs have been able to shake off that demon, leaving the adored star in a constant state of hypervigilance. 

he wishes he was in tartarus. there, the darkness makes it easy to forget, where there's no shortage of the things he needs most. he thinks of time spent with hypnos. what he would give to be laying at their side on hyp’s gondola, slowly moving through the canals. at peace.  

mene is floating on his back, eyes blinded by the sun but not looking away for a moment. he doesn't see someone approach, but he feels it in the way the water ripples. blinking finally, he turns his head to see a familiar face. agilely not spilling his drink, mene puts his feet under him, standing up to embrace her. “oh, scylla! how are you, mate?” the hug is tight but brief, pulling back to submerge his torso back into the warmth of the springs once more. “you involved in all those showcase things?” he asks, as if he has any clue what half of the things the speakers talk about.

toes sink into the warm sand as menelaus is taken on a walk by his forty kilo dog, the leash being tugged by biskóto's force unceremoniously. “why are you like this, mm? why don't you love me? i'm hungover, and you're dragging me around like a ragdoll, come here—” ever playful, biskóto doesn't make it easy to grab him by the collar, but through laughter, mene succeeds. “dumb baby, i'm trying to let you loose,” the leash is removed, and mene wraps it absently around his fist. 

with his tongue excitedly handing out his mouth, biskóto bolts at the first moment of freedom, and mene grins watching the ball of fur run lengths on the beach. until biskóto changes his trajectory, and now runs straight for another figure walking along the sand. “hey! bisk! no!” but he clearly hasn't done a good enough job at training, because biskóto doesn't pay him any mind.

is that dion? fuck! “biskóto, you little shit! come back!” mene bolts, but he's far too late, coming to a sudden stop, by which point, biskóto has already jumped up on her with sandy paws. mene grabs the dog by his collar, dragging him back to sit between his legs as anxiety colours his guilty smile, laughing nervously. “shit, i am so sorry. he's a maniac.”

menelaus mycenae discography.

FATES FORGIVE ME. released on february 2118 at 21 years old. menelaus’ first album and an instant hit in gaia. upon annoucing the start of an interest in creating music, some critics were unsure if the already one time pallantium award winner menelaus mycenae would make a fool of himself, but his growth in popularity after FATES FORGIVE ME’s release was enough to shut down those very voices. many tracks from this album frequent bars, radio stations, and clubs across gaia and can still be heard playing today. this album was released before mene had time to acknowledge, let alone comes to terms with, his sexuality, and so his songs use femenine pronouns when referring to love interests. the album surrounds topics of substance abuse and sex, upbeat with elements of pop and hiphop.

BOYS DO CRY. released on august 2125 at 28 years old. the long awaited second album from menelause mycenae. BOYS DO CRY is a fan favourite, and also holds a lot of significance for menelaus and the lgbtq+ community in gaia. it’s through this album that menelaus comes out as a gay man, using masculine pronouns for the first time to describe love interests. this album is less cohesive, something menelaus has spoken about in interviews, explaining that these songs were written over the last seven years, and that the album is more of a diary than anything else. genres are mixed, with less upbeat lyrics and allowing some insight into the mind of mene mycenae. he, however, doesn’t like to be asked too many questions about what or who some of his songs might be about, keeping those meanings close to his heart.