𝖇𝖚𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 / ʙʟᴏᴏᴍ

i. skeleton     ii. codex     iii. timeline     iv. wanted     v. compass

It truly is to Zagreus’s credit that he’s managed to coax Hephaestus deeper into the water when it already feels as if he’s submerged. He’s hardly any more exhausted when they find him at 4am than he is during the morning, watching the stars’ reflection on the surface of the ocean, replaying confrontations in his mind and loathing himself for his own self-inflicted cruelty. Can’t even rely on himself for quiet. 

He smiles, wane, when Zagreus floats closer and pats him with a pool noodle. He’s got his arms on the pool edge, resting his chin on the cool surface, but he turns to face Zagreus at their gentle persuasion; hard to deny an offering of benevolence from someone who has never given him anything but exactly that. 

“Not my presentation,” he chuckles. “Strangely, never got nervous with public speaking. But I’ll be sure to tell them of the state of the stonks. Thank goodness you reminded me.”

His eyes flicker shut for a moment, grateful Zagreus has the decency to dance around the subject, but even more thankful when he stops. “It really was done for love. I promise you.” He doesn’t have to lie. This intrinsic loyalty he has towards the Rheas, for their preservation, what is it, if not love? He shrugs. “Just. Hard to take my mind off it when his children and all the paparazzi in Gaia are roaming Pontius. Hard to see how I’ve ruined things with his family. Hard to be alone at times, too.”

-

Hephaestus is really going through it, that much is evident. More self-deprecating their tone than ever, a touch pathetic but in an endearing way. Same way you would think of a wounded woodland creature. A baby fawn, perhaps. Zagreus pushes down the sunglasses he’s wearing (Middle of the night? Don’t care.) at the mention of love. If it really was for love, why did he feel like his love had to live in the shadows? “I believe you,” he says earnestly nonetheless. At the end of the day, he is a romantic at heart. He holds up the noodle as if to say ’do you want the pool noodle?’ and then gives it to Hephaestus anyway. “I think I’ve learned you can’t really control when the truth comes out, it just does. My cousins have known something was broken for a long time - and now they have someone to blame.”  He doesn’t speak to how fair or unfair this is, he just slowly begins his journey to Aristurtle, at the other end of the pool. Zag has just the thing to perk Hephaestus up.

theseus expected hades. he expected the strange aura of harlotry that the man couldn’t help but exude; he even expected the sentiment, the way that anything hades said might be construed as a threat. ( was that what mino saw in him? ) what theseus did not expect was zagreus, lingering behind like some sort of black mold growing on a perfectly lovely cabinet. 

was he just supposed to ignore zagreus? did he greet him? did hades see him too, or was this some sort of bad trip effect that hadn’t yet worn off? theseus rubbed his eyes, but there zagreus remained. strange. he wondered if he wasn’t the only one aiming for bigger prizes. 

“you know i appreciate the work – adore it, even. i absolutely love the part where i’m alive to do it.” there was so much in front of theseus, but he kept his attention fixed. “but… it’s all a bit pedestrian, isn’t it? it’s been long enough now for you to realize i’m not going to slink off in the night. so take me for a ride. test me out. send me after something bigger. aren’t you at all curious how i’ll do?” 

a glance toward zagreus because he simply could not help himself. “dear zagreus here can attest to my hardworking, team attitude, sir. we’re rather good friends. i’d even be happy to take him under my wing, if you were looking to expand this little internship.” shit, he shouldn’t have mentioned zagreus. it felt entirely faux-pas to mention zagreus. “but, as always, i am at your command.”

@zagreusrhea​

It brings Zagreus some pleasure to know that whatever conversation Theseus had planned for this, however many dialogue paths he had mapped out in an attempt to make himself feel more favorable, they all get shredded to hell the second Zagreus, shadow of his father, appears. One look at Theseus, and it is clear that he is unexpected. One look at Theseus, and Zagreus can tell the train has gone off the rails of whatever carefully curated track was laid down. If Theseus realizes it’s a mistake to mention Zagreus, Zagreus thinks that Theseus should work harder on making his existence less amusing.

“I can absolutely attest to his handwork and team-attitude. But don’t let me steal your spotlight, why don’t you speak to your proudest achievement?” Zagreus considers an olive. “Don’t be modest Theseus.”

He pauses mid motion to smile at Theseus, like he’s looking for blood. Maybe he is. The internship comment certainly didn’t help.

“And for what it’s worth, I sure am curious to know how you would do it.”

he’s  building  to  something .    that  much  she  knows  when  he  turns  away  ,  looks  skyward .    it  doesn’t  feel  like  an  avoidance  tactic  ,  not  really  ,  but  she  does  get  that  feeling .    the  one  that  strikes  just  before  the  lights  come  up  in  a  theatre  ,  in  the  final  seconds  of  a  sporting  match  ,  in  the  fleeting  moments  before  meteors  collide  in  orbit .    anticipation  ,  maybe  ,  of  peace  disrupted .    the  haunting  prolepsis  of  inevitable  things .

she’ll  look  back  on  this  in  a  week  and  wonder  if  she  was  really  surprised  by  what  was  coming .    dusa  always  had  been  reckless  with  her  own  heart  ,  and  zag  was  much  of  the  same .

we  got  into  a  fight .    she  hums  in  reply .    cousins  ,  practically  brothers   –   at  least  in  all  the  ways  that  mattered .    fights  weren’t  uncommon  ,  but  the  way  he  talks  of  it  carries  a  weight  none  of  the  others  had  before .    everything  raises  more  questions .    the  nature  of  the  rheas  ,  one  supposes .

but  then  he’s  passing  it  off  to  her .    a  change  of  track  ,  a  momentary  detour .    cheek  catches  between  her  teeth .

“  no  ,  it’s  reasonable  to  ask .  ”    dusa  nods  ,  shoulder  raising  in  a  crooked  shrug .    “  talking  about  it  is  the  healthy  thing  to  do  anyway ,  right ?  ”    only  fitting  that  she’s  being  asked  to  open up  on  the  surgery  room  floor  of  his  childhood  bedroom .    she’s  certain  these  are  load  bearing  walls  ,  with  the  number  of  things  she’s  said  and  left  to  grow  or  rot  in  this  room .    (   coming  here  at  fourteen  ,  after  talking  to  achilles .    here  ,  the  first  night  in  the  house  when  she  couldn’t  sleep .    here  ,  after  the  breakup  ,  like  she  wasn’t  sure  where  else  to  go .    always  picking  up  the  pieces  when  she  needed  him  to .   )    “  um .    the  short  version  is   .   .   .   toward  the  end  ,  hermes  asked  me  to  move  to  olympe .    to  move  in  with  him .  ”

for  all  she  thinks  she  gets  right  ,  it’s  so  easy  for  her  to  want  to  bury  what  she  gets  wrong .

“  but  i   –   i  couldn’t  leave  tartarus .    or  wouldn’t  leave  ,  i  guess .    if  i  couldn’t  ,  i  wouldn’t  have  felt  so  guilty  for  saying  no .    and  it’s  not  like  i  could  have  expected  him  to  come  here  ,  with  zeus’  expectations  somewhere  in  the  background .  ”    she  tugs  at  a  loose  thread  in  the  blanket  hanging  near  her .    looks  back  at  him .    “  which  gets  to  what  you  do  know .    the  distance  got  harder  ,  and  that  was  why .    or  maybe  i  was  just  self  -  sabotaging .    hindsight  ,  and  all  that .  ”

a  pause .    finally  :    “  so  why  did  i  come  up ?  ”

That love of his, that love that is a music box, is demanding to be closed. He had to find it in him to work against that spring coil mechanism and snap it shut, wrestle it down with all the strength he has. Dusa deserves though, right before he does, to get one look inside. Fuck, this is all wrong, he should be sitting up when he tells her this. Should be looking at her in the eye as she mutters something about healthy communication. He almost chokes on a laugh as he sits up. Healthy is optimistic - though it did often feel like they were the last two optimists that Tartarus had left to offer. You can’t lose her.

And it seems Dusa felt Tartarus had some sort of hold on her as well. There’s mentions of self-sabotaging too - he understands that. Zagreus crosses his legs, so he’s sitting knee to knee with her. He gives very few fucks about the papers underneath. He’s searching for her eyes, a gaze to meet. Dusa’s recount of her love for Hermes is not a surprise, he’s had front row seats to this story for a very long time. “The short version huh?” Zagreus says quietly. It’s just as effective as the long version, except, he was there to see this part, wasn’t he? All those years of the song of them unraveling. He recognizes the moments she’s talking about, feels her hurt as if it were his own.  It’s her tears on his fingers tips when the call is made after all.

She’s looking at him now, waiting.

“You came up because we were talking about people we love. People that we both love.”

And here he is. On the doorstep of the confession, suddenly feeling like the third body in the room. He watches himself tell her something he feels she’s already known. His voice comes down to a near whisper, like he’s telling her something sacred. It is, to him.

“I told them about the crush I had on you.” It’s a relief, to express it with such simplicity. It sweeps through him like a spring breeze, then the words are blowing towards her, like dandelion seeds. “I don’t know when it began,” He adds quickly, “so there’s no point in asking because I’ll just say it was when you were six and you lost your two front teeth. It wasn’t always there, but then it always was.” He hands hands are on his knees. “I’m telling now because, I had every intention of never saying a word about it, but then it came out during this fight and - and I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else, I wanted you to hear it from me.”

It should feel terrifying to crack open his rib cage in this manner, show her the precise location of his heart. But it’s not, it’s not. It’s been nothing but gentle in the palm of her hand.

“You get it, right? Why I didn’t talk about it until now?”

–

Sisyphus almost says, that one was done but don’t worry, I’ve got another– but he holds back, smirking. More fun to save up on surprises, and anyway, doesn’t the guy have easy access to better drugs himself? A gentleman would offer first.

Then Zagreus pulls his head down over his eyes, grinning wide, and whatever control Sisyphus thought he had over the situation– whatever elusive upper hand– abruptly vanishes.

“God,” he says, around the scratchy feeling in his throat. “You look so fucking stupid right now, man.” He shuffles, looks away. Moves his attention to the driver’s seat, with its rows of neon buttons. The interface is, as Zag guessed, pretty fool-proofed. But for some reason it still takes Sisyphus a few seconds and two incorrect tries to get the motor started.

The boat turns on with a subtle purr, barely disturbing the water around it. He knows that will change when they go for some actual speed. At Zagreus’ question he glances up from the control panel, then sends him a look. “Hey, you came onto my boat and started asking questions about my rod, but I’m the bad guy here?” The blues and greens of the interface light up their faces from below, like an aquarium. “But yea, I’ve got some gear stored under the seats. Good shit too. You’ll see.”

A few screen taps later and Sisyphus leans back in the driver’s seat, taking his hands off the panel. “Okay, it’s programmed to take us to the first spot.” He wiggles his eyebrows once, up and down like a cartoon sailor. “Do you want to press the big red button to get us going? I bet you do. Tourists always do.”

The back of the other’s head gets a look at the failed attempts. “Real smooth there, does it always take you more than two tries to get an engine going?”

It would also, perhaps, be great if the innuendos didn’t roll so easily off the tongue with this one. Zagreus shakes it off. It’s fact to be ignored if not laughed at, nothing more. It’s nice though, to feel as if they’ve known each other for a while. 

A shame that they felt like their friendship had to be something they had to hide.

“Do I want to push the big red button? Why are you asking me that like I’m twelve and when you very well know the answer is yes, of course I fucking do. Which one is it? I recommend you tell me before I just start pressing all the red buttons.”

With the arrival of those who hold her heart, the ship becomes a place of danger. It’s a minefield, faces peppered between – casualties lost to the lies she’s let drip from beneath her tongue. Though there is no truth to them, the outsiders do not know, and in order for their plan to work, it needs to stay that way. So they ease their time into doing things off of the ship, careful only to approach such activities when she knows there are no fellow shadows laying about. 

It’s midday and the sun is unrelenting. The sunglasses she’s packed away lay overtop of their eyes, and though it is without effort, they seem to channel Nyx in more ways than one. They drag behind, toes of their shoes causing sand to hit the ankles of two fairly inebriated women ahead of them. They do not notice, their arms linked, heads thrown back as if in an ad campaign for the perfect vacation. She’s sure the tourism board would fucking love the very image. Whether Alecto’s annoyance festers with help from the heat, the sand, or the constant laughter, she is unsure. 

Here, she cannot use force. Here, Alecto cannot call for them to close their mouths, or else she’d cut their tongues. This is not Tartarus, and the shadows do not serve these halls. She had wondered, and wondered briefly, when first setting her gaze upon the beaches of her old home, what would have happened had they not lost to Poseidon’s greed. To think that she would come out of this life, should it have happened, unscathed and not derived from shadows would be ignorant – they would just be a different length, a different pattern. Before she can fantasize about doing their heads in, their’s an arm hooking her elbow. The instinct to vault them forward, to bend her knees, to reach is fast acting, but she is cut off from doing so by a hand slapping to her mouth. The smell of sunscreen curls around her nose as she’s pulled backwards, leaves from the edge of the walkway scratching at her exposed calves. 

Once released, Alecto turns, eyes widening at the sight of Zagreus before her. “You fucking– fucker.” There is delight that coats Alecto’s tongue, and she has to all but stop herself from launching herself at him – not out of anger, but out of familiarity. There he stands, her chosen companion on long nights where boredom sunk their hearts. “No fucking shit.” A laugh escapes, and Alecto reaches forward, knuckles pressing gently into Zag’s chest. “I nearly had you fucking laid out, you know that, right?” It’s hard to fight the smile that pulls their lips upward, and so they let it be – because this may be one of the only times that somebody is glad to see her. 

It’s the shift in weight, the small step forward. He sees her go for the hug and then stop. His own impulse control is not that tame. He lifts them up, swings them around, till they’ve full turn and twirl. “Uh huh yup. But the important part is you didn’t and now I can live to tell the tale.” His binoculars make this embrace uncomfortable, he has to drop them too soon. Nevertheless, Zagreus reaches out and pinches a cheek lovingly - immediately withdrawing his hand, because knows that’s a snapped wrist if he keeps it there too long. This is the way it always felt with the furies. Him, some wide-eyed curious soul, sticking his fingers into the mouth of something  that would very much like shred him with its teeth for fun. A game of chicken, Zagreus could never turn down a dare. He’d played with fire enough to have grown accustomed to its heat.

Alecto though, Alecto is a camaraderie hard lost and even harder forgotten. He’ll take them any day, teeth and all. “What’s it been like? You a pro-fisher yet?” There was fear, from day one, that Alecto would perhaps take to Pontius better than Tartarus - and yet for some reason that fear had yet to creep into Zagreus’ dreams. It was possible, sure, anything was possible, but he could envision what such a bridge looked like. Was happy to cross it when he came to it. Tartarus, like he had said to Hypnos, didn’t have to be the cage it could be the anchor.

“Hey. Buddy.” Sisyphus unfolds himself from the seat of the cruiser, drops the joint and crushes it under heel. Squints at Zagreus in the low-light, as if he hadn’t already recognized him from his footsteps approaching on the dock. “I work here. I’m the one who’s supposed to be catching you.” He moves towards Zag, stops when he’s within arms reach, one foot propped on the edge of the boat as if to jump back on the dock. Extends a hand as far as it will go. And pulls off Zagreus’ hat. “Sorry, I can’t be seen with a guy in a fucking bucket hat. My cred would never recover.” He peers out at the dark ocean around them. “For some reason, I think your face will be fine without it.”

This is the second time a meeting with Zagreus has kicked off with a comment about his face. Sisyphus scowls and steps back, shuffling on the plasticky boat carpet. Gestures in front of him. “Well?” And wow, he’s a fucking idiot. Him, Sisyphus. Zagreus too, but Sisyphus especially, and especially right now, especially for this. “I’ll get fired if I let you sink one of the boats all on your lonesome. Let me press the fancy buttons, okay? I’ll take you to a good spot. Lots of fish, whatever.”

-

The joint gets dropped and then crushed. “Aw, we could have shared that, Haven’t you heard of the five second rule?” He’s joking. Mostly. But the invite is clear as any. His hat gets swiped. Zagreus dumps the fishing rod and tackle box onto the other side of the railing, and then vaults over after them, all limbs. What cred? Zagreus wants to tease. Because that shirt tanked any you had. But he has no intentions of saying this, no point in dragging a new friend that hard just yet. You built up to that sort of camaraderie. He doesn’t say See there you are, calling me pretty again either. He snatches back the hat and pulls it over his head, till it’s covering his eyes. “Good thing there’s no one around to see us, huh?” Shifts it back so he can see again. Gives a lopsided grin. “You know Cassandra exists right? I could probably figure out how to drive one of these things in five minutes.” 

she’s  familiar  with  unresolved  things .    the  final  night  of  heteraidia  was  full  of  them  ,  but  between  than’s  recovery  and  zag’s  new  role  and  hades’  panel  preparation   –   well  ,  she  hasn’t  had  time  to  dwell  on  it .    no  opportunity  to  think  about  all  the  little  details  and  pieces  she  was  given  ,  before  stopping  just  short  of  what  it  would  take  to  step  back  and  see  the  entire  picture .

maybe  she’s  okay  with  that .    she  was  busy  ,  after  all  ,  that  was  fine .    and  maybe  ,  on  some  level  ,  she  knew  it  was  best  she  didn’t  get  those  integral  ,  central  pieces  of  the  puzzle .    sometimes  nothing  was  better  than  something   –   consider  it  a  form  of  self  -  preservation  from  the  unknown .

so  one  day  turned  into  two  weeks .

and  ,  at  some  point  ,  9  pm  turns  into  11  pm .    they’re  encircled  in  all  these  hard  copies  of  work  from  thirty  years  or  more  ago .    her  hair’s  pulled  back  in  some  haphazard  bun  so  she  can  focus  ,  though  most  of  it’s  loose  ,  and  there’s  this  magnetic  ,  fervent  gleam  in  his  eyes  as  they  bounce  things  off  one  another .    your  mother’s  brilliant  ,  zag .    is  ,  was .    tense  doesn’t  matter  when  reading  this  work  leaves  her  reeling  ,  as  if  she’s  been  swept  up  into  the  brain  of  this  woman  she’ll  never  meet .    she  knows  she  would  have  liked  to .    these  ideas  for  tartarus   .   .   .   fates .    what  are  you  thinking ?

in  the  house  of  hades  ,  there’s  no  telling  when  darkness  falls  like  a  guillotine  up  above .    the  seconds  stretch  ,  the  seconds  fold  in  on  themselves  ,  and  11  bleeds  out .    it’s  easy  to  lose  track  of  time  between  the  beats  of  her  heart .    (   hasn’t  it  always  been  that  way  around  him ?    the  simplicity  ,  the  gentle  contentment .    the  two  of  them  ;   attached  at  the  hip  ,  she  remembers  one  of  the  adults  tsking  when  she  was  eight  ,  thirteen  ,  twenty .   )    somewhere  in  the  house  ,  a  clock  chimes  twice .

dusa  has  read  the  same  sentence  four  times  when  something  jabs  into  her  shoulder .

“  hey !  ”    a  brighter  ,  less  hazy  mimicry  of  her  objection  two  weeks  ago .    the  upturn  of  her  lips  is  gradual  in  the  late  hour  ,  but  undeniably  there  ,  as  she  grabs  the  triangle  and  flicks  it  back  toward  him .    “  watch  it .  ”    it  knocks  off  his  chest   /   bounces  once  ,  twice  ,  and  stops  somewhere  among  the  blanket  of  papers .    dusa  finally  sets  aside  the  folder  splayed  open  in  her  lap  and  opens  her  mouth  to  say  something  about  kalavria  ,  or  how  to  bring  something  or  another  into  2130  ,  or  maybe  nothing  relevant  at  all  ,  when   –

i’m  ready  to  talk  about  it .    one  of  those  unresolved  things  ,  offered  on  an  outstretched  palm .    a  crease  forms  between  her  brows  ,  and  she  nods .    “  okay .    yeah  ,  um   –   i’m  listening .  ”    dusa  curls  her  legs  beneath  her  and  leans  against  whichever  piece  of  furniture  is  behind  her  ,  letting  it  do  the  work  of  bracing  her  weight .    “  wherever  you  want  to  start .  ”

The piece of paper strikes him in the chest, something something arrow through the heart. Dusa’s tucking her legs underneath her, just like he found her on that couch in olympe. Her lips curve up. Isn’t it a kindness, to keep her like this? Zagreus knows that’s not how the truth works. His mother is close, perhaps thats why he feels brave.

“We got into a fight - it’s not really my place to say about what, because it’s not about me, not really. But your name came up, and we talked about you for a bit -” He tips backwards and rolls onto his back, so he’s facing away from her, eyes tracing the stone of the ceiling.  He wonders if, on some level, she knows what he’s meandering towards. Wonders if she minds really. A meandering hardly matters when your arms are looped with the right people, huh? How to express this particular sentiment though. He’d had plenty of time to grow used to it — and had grown to learn to ignore it.

“- Why did the two of you break up?” Zagreus asks. This is stalling, but it also isn’t. For all the ways their footfalls land in sync, they’ve never really talked about what they crush underfoot. “You’ve never really talked about it…” He finally turns his head towards her. Huffs away the stray corner of a file that tickles his nose. Her fly away hairs cause of that bun have got her in a halo. “It’s okay if you still don’t want to talk about it.”

.

It was a good thing that Hera only had one nephew, because she would have trouble not showing her favoritism. It was impossible to stay upset when Zagreus was around. She walks to him, bends to give him a kiss on the cheek before sitting down next to his colorful turtle. “Hey, Zag. Does your new friend have a name?” She nods to the inflatable animal sitting by her side. “Not so fast! This drink is exactly what I need.” She confirms her point by taking a good sip of the tequila sunrise, then eats the cherry on top of it. “Absolutely delicious.”

The mention of the surprise has her smiling even brighter, and she places the drink back on the table to check the gift back. Nectar schnapps? She doesn’t remember those from her time on Tartarus, but if Zag is recommending them, they must be good. “That’s very thoughtful of you, dear. Thank you.” Then, Hera opens it and sniffs the product. “Before I mix this with my tea, are there any side effects I should be aware of?” 

“That’s Aristurtle there. He’s got a lot to say about The Nicoma-sea-an Ethics.” 

Aunt Hera still moves with grace despite it all. There’s something to be learned there. In Tartarus, you strike whatever stabs you in the back dead. Up here, you didn’t let any knife affect your gait for a second. “You mean other than the side effect of a good time?” It supposedly gave you a little luck in love. “Just a few superstitions here and there. Next time you throw one of your charity events, add some to the punch bowl - you’ll have the donors lining up in no time.”