WHO: @herarhearp WHERE: pontius, helicon deck WHEN: february 5th, 2130. so late it’s early. WEARING: haider ackermann (x)
The chorus in their head grows louder by the day: you fool. You fool. You pathetic, naive, ignorant, ambitious fool. All those lofty dreams, all the things you sacrificed to chase them, and look where it’s gotten you. Look what you’ve become. Without chemical assistance to drown it out the repetition keeps Icarus awake at night, keeps him pacing the length of his room and scrawling furiously in a cheap paper notebook he intends to burn the moment the last page is filled. Just now, however, the notebook lies at the bottom of a document safe disguised as an old fashioned briefcase ( a necessity when traveling with sensitive information as frequently as they do ) and Icarus is slipping out of the cabin bound for the upper deck.
It isn’t as quiet as they’d hoped, emerging far too close to the open bar, but a few minutes of walking puts enough distance between themself and the all-night revelers that Icarus can almost pretend he’s wandering the terraces of Xenios instead. The entire estate could fit aboard this ship with room to spare; it would feel less like a vessel and more like an island were it not for the sharp drop that marks the boundary between ship and sea. Icarus walks until they lose count of their steps, numbers slipping into and around each other in their mind, then turns and leans against the railing to stare out over the water.
When the sound of footsteps reaches him, Icarus doesn’t move. Hopes that perhaps, if he doesn’t acknowledge them, they might leave him in peace. Then a figure appears in his periphery and he feels a surge of acid in his throat as he recognizes Hera’s profile. A woman he has always respected, has cared about regardless of his feelings towards her husband; another casualty of the explosion that has torn his own heart to shreds. With her, he thinks, he can loosen the white-knuckle grip he’s been keeping on his professional mask. Only a little, not enough to let the true depth of their heartbreak show, but at least they don’t have to pretend to be unaffected.
“I used to hear the sea helped people sleep better. Does it get easier, or should I add that to the list of lies I should never have believed?” It comes out more softly than they meant it to, more wounded, and Icarus knows she will know he isn’t really talking about insomnia or the ocean.
