“I’m not surprised you’ve never seen a room such as this before.” She speaks with a shrug and offers no more observations on the situation as she breathes a sigh. Iris slips away from the window after a moment more of studying the darkened scenery outside, fingers running along the wood of the window sill. She turns to properly face those in the room with her. Her hands moving to clasp in front of her as she dips her head a little. “I’m suspicious that there is a purpose for our being trapped here. Perhaps this is some sort of revenge?” She suggests moving towards a chest of drawers on the other side of the room. Her steps are gentle, effortless and she travels with careful speed and purpose. She reaches her target in a breath, her fingers tugging open the top drawer with a degree of care, as though frightened something may spring from within and out into the room. She presses her fingers down into the drawer, searching for the false bottom for something and yet the drawer yields nothing but Iris’ fond observations that it is well crafted, sturdy and made from wood she thinks may be walnut. She has always had a taste for well made art. Her searches of the other drawers offers no more information and she finds herself giving a frustrated breath through her teeth.
“There’s nothing in here.” She states after standing up straight, her full height is perhaps a touch smaller than average but she has always preferred herself to be nymph like in image. This does however make searching above her much more vertically challenging, she finds herself tilting her head back to study the ceiling above her. “I can’t imagine we would be left with nothing.” There is pause, she can feel the knots taking root in her shoulders where wings should be. Golden and perfect and gone. Something has changed, Iris knows this much.
“Amphitrite?” She questions, turning to face the other goddess in the room suddenly. “Do you get the indication that something beyond the realm of our powers has occurred?” Her shoulders beginning to sink as she appears to collapse in on herself slightly. ( @amphitriteisms· )
Though the words sting a little, the mortal doesn't show it — it's only natural after all, he is amongst gods, those who have lived so long that his feeble mind wouldn't be able to comprehend it. The soldiers, the royals, the kings are mere chess pieces in their game to pass the time, and while maybe Achilles could be a King or at least a Queen, Patroclus is probably nothing more than a simple pawn. It's okay, he supposes, as long as he spends his time next to those he loves, there isn't more that he could wish for. The boy knows that he's not good enough to be on the same level as those who rule over them, and would never think so. Which is why he's so c o n f u s e d — they seem normal, as if they're a human like him, and there's little to show that they are indeed gods, and not simple mortals that perish easily.
"That doesn't explain why I'm here though —" While it's completely plausible that some god would be playing a game with the weaker ones perhaps, Patroclus absolutely has no play in that game, he isn't a half-god, or even a proper hero, he's just a medic at a war that doesn't seem to end. The only figure that could be worthy of the attention of the gods is Achilles and he doesn't seem to be around anyways. Patroclus himself wouldn't have any part in some elaborate revenge plot. He plays his 'part' anyways for the moment, looking around intently, behind the wardrobe, underneath the bed — the boy even hits the wall at places to see if there's something behind, something that would be different than the others. His attempts are in vain just as it seems to be Iris', and he can't help but feel a bit frustrated as he leans against the wall near the door, his head hitting it slightly. He has no idea what to do, if it's a dream, it would be the best if he could just wake up.
"It seems so — do you, uhm, feel like you could use your powers to get out of here ?" The questions is unsure, for he doesn't know how the said powers might work. Just as he opens his mouth for an apology and a further clarification on where the hell they might be, the footsteps just outside the door make him jump back — they weren't alone after all. There's a illogical fear rising up in his chest as the doorknob turns around, the boy taking a few steps back as he watches the door open with a c r e a k . Patroclus hopes it's their way out and not some kind of punishment that has been awaiting them all along. ( @sxnlights )
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