lemonchrisp

[lemonchrisp]

Forgiveness

That day had gone, the sun slipping silently behind the clamor of cypress trees. Chiron had bayed an early night. I stood in the clearing by firelight, a stick in hand poking at the embers gently. The tip ebbed when removed, tendrils of smoke whispered off its breathing vermillion char. Achilles sat beside me on the grass. His eyes half closed, eyelashes and eyelids flickering with the firelight’s reflection. He was humming a low tune and his finger tapped on the knob of my ankle to its rhythm. 

The red of the fire is a strange dizzy blur, staring at it this long had dried my weary eyes. It was vivid, ebbing. When wood is not dried fully, it has a tendency to crackle and pop. And on a quiet night as tonight, it rang clear, whistling from the hearth, across the clearing and deep into the woods. 

I stiffened slightly. Achilles stopped humming, leaning the pad of his finger against my ankle. The air was silent. 

I thought of the boy. His popping eyes and the slippery blood that dribbled off and spewed into the ground below him. No matter how much time passed he still followed me, in death he lingered, especially when artemis’ chariot rode high in the dark sky. That was when he struck. That was when he stirred from the depths of the fields. When the world was silent. On nights like these. 

‘-oclus’ 

‘Patroclus’ achilles murmuring webbed their way into my ears.

With all the strength I could muster I turned my head to him first, ripping them from the fire my eyes followed. It took me by surprise, he was standing, emerald eyes staring into mine. His palm grazed my upper arm. I could tell by the look on his face that must not have been the first time he called my name. Worry was not a good look on him, a small crease between those arched brows. 

I tilted my head, shaking it slightly and smiling. As if to brush the accusation as a joke, light as a feather. As if to say one was merely lost in unassuming thought, that the other would be silly to doubt. 

Achilles took a second longer, examining my face, inspecting it for any defects in my facade. 

Inspection passed. 

He turned, cupping sand between his fingers, he put out the my pyre of thought as the flame dwindled. We went into the cave, I watched him wash his face, untie his hair, and watched the thin gold strands tinkle in the low light. I washed my face, drawing in a deep breath and pulling down at my cheeks. 

We slid beneath the soft woven blanket. He spoke of a jay he saw while we were collecting wood. It’s charming blue spotted wings, it’s little mouth politely grinning with a prim headpiece to add. I listened, watching the silhouette of his face move with every annunciation. His breathing slowed as we tossed and rambled on. Always the first to sleep, his breathing became a rhythmic whisper. 

I joined him eventually but not after much insomniac’s distress. 

It was fitful. I saw the boy, he whispered in my ears. I feel the bile of guilt push through me. I know this feeling all too well, swimming, wading in my own regret. Dizzied and sullied, stained and heaving at my disgust. It is the smell of iron. The aroma of acid and dirt. The look in that boy’s eyes, his parent’s eyes. Lulled back, no emotion left, for life had left. Silt and Dust marinating with his congealed blood. ‘How long did you wait before they found my body?’ his voice sneered down my neck. His breath was cold and his tone was sharp. In the same pompous manner that he held before I did what I had. He circled me this time. His cold fingers, long nails scratching against my skin. Where I did not know, he was a blurry shadow before me, behind me, besides me. His finger reached my head, the same place I had struck him. ‘Not even smart enough to lie’ he whispered ‘simple and dull’. His nail began to worm it’s way into my head. Pain spurted from its contact. I couldn't breathe, stuck still I shivered on the spot, my body tensing until my muscles hurt to the bone. He had reached the bone.

I awoke. Cold sweat slathered on my neck, I felt a numbness in my throat. I wheezed, the air in my body had become spiky, decaying into my very soul. I couldn't reach the bottom of my lungs, shallowly I gasped. Sitting up. Getting up. One foot in front of another I put one hand against the wall for balance. Stumbling. I hit the water bowl with my shin, it made a tok sound, reverberating through the ceramic. I got up again, running through the skinned entryway. I needed to get out, I needed to escape, he would catch me here, he could hear me here. 

I collapsed in the clearing. Bathing in the moonlight and morning dew that clung to my linen tunic. I kept breathing, faster, faster, get it, catch it, I couldn’t do it, it was slipping. He would come to soon. Dread filled me as the cold air made my head ache and fuzzy. I lay there, heaving on the sodden grass. 

I was so gone I could barely feel Achilles as he gripped tight. His arms wrapped around me, soft words sang around my choked breath. 

Slowly I came to, the soft vibration of his chest as he hummed. His chest steady against mine. My breathing slowed.

He brought a hand up to remove my shaking hands from my own face, they were spasming from the effort. I would later find light bruised divots where they had covered and pressed so deeply.  He scanned my face once more ‘will you tell me what ails you?’ he whispered. His voice was smooth despite the concern that littered his face. 

I shook my head, I tried to laugh but it turned into some pained noise from the back of my throat. He cupped my jaw into his hands. Shifting his thumbs against my cheeks. We stayed outside because I refused to return to the dark of the cave. My head laid on his legs. His touch never left my body. He now carded my damp hair, spindling it between his fingers as he brought my hand up to his lips. Kissing the back with tender caution. As I looked up at his face, tears I had held unknowingly in my eyes streaked down. He’d never seen me cry before, his face crumpled at the sight. Bending over, covering me completely with his face and neck as he leaned, he kissed the tear as it tethered on my furthest cheekbone. 

I laughed now. Pressing my nose into his collarbone I wrapped my arms around him. Aristos Achaion who crumbled to my tears that I didn’t even mean to shed. My Achilles. Astéri mou. Yes, Polaris sitting on his shoulder. 

I pushed him in the hug onto the ground. Laying there, head on his chest I could hear the speed of his heart. Running far and fast. 

‘Him, he who I killed’  I confessed at long last ‘I dreamt he came back for me’. 

He stayed silent. Long enough that I looked at him. He was looking down at me too. The morning sun on his check as it brimmed the sky with its yolky warmth. 

‘I will not let him’ He said ‘not now not ever’

There was anger beneath his words, something that I’d seldom seen in the walls down in pelion and here too. It reminded me of my own anger, my mortal boiling that I feel, at some point towards him as well, something a demigod as he was, could still feel. It burned in him, sharpened his clenched jaw, brooding well with his divinity. 

‘He cannot’ I replied firmly ‘for I sent him to an early death’

A moment passed. His eyes softened

‘A sarcophagus half the size of a man’s’ I whispered bitterly. 

‘Merely protecting yourself is not a crime’ There was something strained in his voice. ‘And you did not lie, you honor him even in death’ 

I said nothing. I let the words glide over me and he knew it. 

‘You would forgive me if I did the same’ He said 

‘Yes’ I said in a heartbeat, looking away

‘Then you must forgive yourself’ he insisted  ‘patroclus’

I look back up at him

‘Say you will’ he pleaded

I couldn’t bare it, a mellow look on that clear face, wrought with concentration i had brought to it. 

‘Say you will’ he repeated in a whisper

‘Mmh’ I uttered, pushing my face back into his chest

‘Say it’ He said again ‘please...’

Bringing up my head with a sigh, my muscles tensing a fraction.

‘I will’