#overyourhubris

Achilles @overyourhubris and Somnus/Astyanax in that little sub sub AU we came up with because in TSOA Briseis somehow states that Andromache was pregnant a lot earlier than she should be if they really yeeted an infant from the walls later. So... kid aged Asty!

"Where do we go from here, Achilles?"

It is the dead of night, Patroklos breaking the deafening silence with his question. He thinks it's a reasonable one, considering everyone believes Achilles to be dead and likely Patroklos a deserter with the haste in which he left the Greek camps behind. There is nothing for him in Troy without Achilles. He is oath-bound, but that's it. He never found the glory or the honor in so much killing.

EMOTIONALLY CHARGED || ACCEPTING:

They move in circles like this always, a worn out game Antilochus has no pretenses at winning, but he asks anyway, because Achilles is his friend, feels every rip in his heart as though it were his own. They don't spin legends and epics of this sort of love, and Antilochus doesn't mind being left in history when the time comes. He doesn't have space to worry about such things, his head too full on placations, ways to say I'd open a vein for you to whatever gods favored me if it would bring him back, but Achilles grief is palatable, and there are no words, nothing close to poetry for an absence like that. Instead, he lays his head at his feet, hardly flinches when the wind kicks dust up into his eyes, and his voice comes out distant and foreign to his own ears, as though speaking underwater.

"I miss him too." 

A fractured sound breaks his limber midway through, and he does his best to steel himself. He knows Achilles, had known them both as well as one might know themselves, but that was before and loss is an relentless deity that takes shelter under ones tongue, makes a stranger out of the heart. Antilochus is not afraid of Achilles brutality, knows that he is very capable of it, yes: he could kill him if he wanted to–– if it would help. It wouldn't. Achilles might react any number of ways, might feel as though he missed Patroclus so ardently that there wasn't any room left in the world for someone else to and he'd be right. Antilochus' own grief is teetering on the the outskirts of it, poised to tip off the edge. 

"Technically I’m off to day, care for some warm apple pie and ice cream?” Kharon offers, not really in the mood for company, but maybe not so opposed to it either. He was always weary of visitors, most just passing through him to get to Hades, so he figures he should at least entertain the idea of being bothered. 

@overyourhubris​ || sc.

“Only a few find the way. Some do not recognize it when they do,” Layla notes, honey-gold eyes watching him curiously. “Then some... Some do not ever want to. The question is: what do you want?”

     And there it was, as sudden as the snapping of broken bone. The echoes of an era long past makes its way to her in the form of the young man, no, demigod. She feels the thousands of years worth of grief on his shoulders, inflicted by her ancestors and that weight is on her shoulders, too. The godling purses her lips anxiously, meeting the eyes of the one called Achilles, the Best of the Greeks. Has he come to her because he knows of her lineage? Because he holds umbrage for her kin? What will he do?

     ❝I’m probably the last person you wanna see, huh?❞

Oh they were coming out of the woodwork now. It seemed the old man had set something in motion and Loki, well, Mr. World wanted to play too. They came from all walks of life it seemed. All different pantheons. He held his hand up silencing Techno before he smirked.