#evrydiki

" 'm right here, love. " orpheus murmured, leaning forward to press a kiss to his wife's temple. " it's.. for you, ya know. the song. " he admitted, leaning into eurydice's warmth as a hand gently caressed up and down her back. " 'm sorry, darlin'. no more writing tonight, i promise. i am all yours, now. "

YOUR NAMEEE IS LIKE A MELODDYYYY 🎶❤️

            [     ...     ]               𝐇𝐎𝐖   𝐇𝐄   𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐘   despises   clichés.     yet,     when   it   becomes   him,     percy   is   left   to   the   fates'   mercy   that   are   far   too   difficult   to   ignore     :     dragged   back   from   hell   with   more   than   just   a   fair   few   hellhound   scratches,     stains   of   dried   blood   staining   trickles   along   the   side   of   his   face     ...    a   reminder   of   his   mortality.     of   the   many   offers   he's   refused   to   join   them.     he   bears   the   burdens   of   his   choices,     and   has   yet   to   regret   his   choice       —     he   doubts   he   ever   will,    but   GOD     (     ironic,     huh     ?     ),     is   he   tempted   to   call   them   up   on   their   offer   for   some   omnipotence.     "     yeah     ?     feel   like   it,     too,     "     despite   himself,     tone   still   harbours   on   a   worrying   nonchalance   as   he   greets   @evrydiki,     who   was   perhaps,     a   little   too   honest.     he   still   hasn't   willed   it   in   himself   to   look   in   the   mirror   yet.     maybe   crap   was   putting   it   lightly       —     "     d'you   think   they'll   ever   stop   putting   us   through   this   shit     ?     don't   they   have   other   stuff   to   do   than   to   fuck   with   their   kids     ?     "

            he knows that feeling all too well.  displaced in time,  he's only able to see the ruins of what once was a place he called home  —  venice,  dc  —  none of it is the same.  he has many homes now,  places he's comfortable enough to rest for at least a few hours,  but no one place has his mama or bianca.  they've even left the underworld now,  chosen rebirth and left him behind for the final time.  there is no home for people like him,  no matter how hard he screams and claws and begs.  though he is unable to offer the recently deceased their human comforts,  he's able to give them facts.     "     you can't.     "     he's blunt,  but not harsh.     "     you died.  you are in the underworld.  this is your home.     "     in the past,  he would sugarcoat     (     you passed away,  you're in a better place,  hey at least it can't get any worse     )     ,  then the stages of acceptance would take too long.  this was easier,  straightforward,  and frankly more comfortable. he keeps his distance from @evrydiki, one hand on the hilt of his sword in caution.    "     i'm sorry.  this is all there is.  no going back.     "     only once was he successful in stealing someone away from the fields of asphodel,  and he prays there's no reason for that to happen again.

"may i ask another?" it's neither beg nor a plead but a gentle request. if she turns it down, he'll pack it up and go back to his work, but if she allows ––  there are no less than ten that orpheus wants to ask, what's your name? are you hungry? have we met? why are you alone?  choosing just one feels impossible.