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He only smirked in response, all tooth and Chesire, watching her move with the hint of mild interest. Smart. Of course he was. He was known for seeing things before they happened after all. Though it didn’t mean he was any less interested in taking them out for a spin- the girl behind the bar whose bed he would end up in after bumping into her at the end of her shift, the boy nervously fiddling with the strings of his instrument, tuning and re-tuning only to have his luck turn up on him when he left the building, coming across a fifty stuck in a drain grate. And then there was the matter of her. And the cold. That was an obvious one. He knew what to expect when her fingers reached for his hand. And then he didn’t.

At first, it just felt numb. Then he took a breath, and it was like getting his head dunked in a bucket of ice water. 

His brows furrowed and he glanced away at the sensation, studying the floor instead of their entwined fingers. He waited a few more moments, nerves finally settling to letting the chill of the cool New York winter outside sit in his bones. If he breathed now, he could swear he’d be able to see his own breath. Huh. He curiously let his attention drift up through himself before tilting his head. No, it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. A little bit, but not entirely- not yet. It was different. A curious pout twisted his lips before letting their raised fingers fall in the space left between the bar stools. “Song and dance are close cousins. Quite the blue moon type of deal if you’re askin’ though, ain’t it.”

ode to a nightingale || open

“Smart,” Nyx murmured in reply to his response. Slowly she scooted closer to him and then reached for his hand. Heat seared through her as she lifted it into hers and then laced her fingers through his. It brought new light to her surroundings just to be closer to him and she felt even more envious than she had before. This was meant to be a place where she was safe as herself and now all she wanted to be was anything but what she was. Not meeting his eyes her gaze lingered on their hands. Hers looked small and pale against his golden skin. She wondered if he saw all the shadows around her and the sad aura they gave off.

With a deep sigh she closed her eyes and pictured the golden sun beaming down on her. A shiver ran down her spine at the mere thought and she bit down on the corner of her lip, nervous feelings flooding through her. “This can’t possibly be pleasant for you,” Nyx prompted to break the silence she had caused. Holding his hand was what it felt like when she held her hot coffee for the first minute at least. After that the coffee ran cold whereas now his hand still felt warm and solid in hers. She knew now that she would enjoy his company whether she admitted it or not. “How do you feel about dancing?”

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Opposites. Opposites right down to the minuscule things that made them, them. He craved touch. The warmth made between affection and the heat between romance. Sometimes he was surprised he was related more to the reclusive moon goddess than the notorious partier he so often spent his time with throughout the years- where was he now, even? Would he believe this story, of whatever came to pass or would he just nod his head and shove a three quarter empty wine bottle into his hand, mildly noting the taste in whatever lazy accent he’d taken up next. The thought made him laugh quietly under his breath, once.

He watched her flinch away from him, a small curious smile twisting his lips as he returned his hand to his pocket, busying himself with his coffee cup. Luke warm by now, but to him, it was enough. A small perk of being who he was. Anything warm, easily hot to the touch if he wanted it to be. He quirked a brow, watching her movements silently, then lifted a shoulder in a shrug. Do your worst. “I think I’ve lived long enough to know there’s other things to be afraid of more than the cold.” 

ode to a nightingale || open

Narrowing her eyes Nyx didn’t bother to answer his reply of it being a two way street. She would not take the warmth she so desperately desired. It was not hers to take. As he reached out a hand she very nearly flinched away but something held her in place. Even with her dainty hand gloved in lace she could feel the searing warmth he gave off. Shivering visibly, Nyx sucked in a breath and tried not to react to the cold that flooded right back into it’s place when he fingers were gone just as quickly. It wasn’t an entirely unpleasant feeling though.

Upon hearing he didn’t doubt her claims Nyx could only give a slight nod. Of course the warmth and light would be easier. It didn’t hurt that he did have his sister to oppose all that. She had always worked alone. Alone and in the shadows were usually other gods or goddesses did not find her. Finally turning to face him fully on her seat, Nyx removed one of the gloves covering her hand and then held it out in his direction. “May I,” she inquired with a slight quirk of her brow. “Unless you’re scared of the cold.”

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So that was her deal then. The place was packed, people who weren’t on the move shoulder to shoulder with enough body heat between them to warm even the coldest New York night, and yet she still felt cold. Alone. But it was an odd way to put that. And curioser all the same. “Up to me is it? I don’t know. The way it works is more of a two way street, sweet.” 

He reached over, quickly tapping the knuckles of her free hand with a feather light touch. Of course there was an easy way to give her what she wanted. But that was much more than a simple conversation.

He leaned back, considering her honesty as he watched the ceiling for a moment. Did he ever not like warmth? Heat? Perhaps. When the solar flares came rolling in it got to be too much, but a couple days later and he was good as new. And then again, he had his sister. Night and day. Moon and sun. He never got tired of warmth because daylight was never just him alone, it was never constant except for the fact he’d show up again the next day. His sister gave him balance. She was his counterpart as he was hers. Perhaps that was this goddess’s problem. There was always darkness, no matter what time of day it was. There was nothing to balance it out. People would always cast shadows. Things would always go dark the moment you closed the door on them.

“I don’t doubt that it does,” he said finally, looking back at her and then at the people around them. Most humans found the night a restless time. Otherwise they’d be home, tucked up in bed. “But my sister probably understands that much more than I do.” He’d spent lifetimes trying to fully understand his sister, but no matter what he did she’d always be that much farther away. It was like flipping a coin. One side always had to be down. Hidden. He could understand his sister and by god did he try. Sometimes the inches in between what he knew didn’t matter. Sometimes they did. For now they did.

ode to a nightingale || open

It quickly became clear the he wasn’t afraid to play with danger as he offered up a deal without even knowing who she was. “The night is so cold and you look so very warm. Share your warmth. How you do so is entirely up to you,” Nyx answered a sudden deep ache rolling over her. It was torturous to be so close to her complete opposite and not be able to feel the things he felt. She longed for anything besides darkness and the cold that was paired with it.

To see curiosity on his face as he finally heard her name was enough to prompt her to continue. “Well then. Have you ever been tired of the light? Tired of the warmth and glow around you? I suspect you haven’t but if you have perhaps you’d understand. I come here because I’m tired. It’s hard to be a creature of constant darkness. It’s lonely and cold. Here I am surrounded with people who enjoy the night. That and coffee to help me focus.”

Nyx paused as she put out the cigarette and reached for her cup once more, finishing the last of her coffee. Waving a hand to the barista, who she didn’t spare a glance for this time she considered her words once more. “I love what I do. I have help at times but nobody could take up the mantle I’ve held since the creation of earth itself. That doesn’t mean I don’t long to find someone who could. Sometimes even the night gets restless.”

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He could only smirk in reply. He’d dealt with so many difficult people throughout his lifetimes. From his sister to Helios to those seeking truth only to refuse to believe him when he gave it to them. Her words weren’t even a challenge. “’m curious anyway. Humor me ‘n then I’ll owe you one.”

Making a deal with an old goddess he didn’t even know. He didn’t exactly stay on the right side of good decisions. Or tiptoed the line between good and bad choices. He tightrope walked it. After all, after so many years, most things couldn’t hurt him and words were only words. Unless put in a song. Then they were much much more.

He watched her shift around on her seat quietly, busying himself with his coffee as he balanced the lit cigarette at the other side of his mouth. He finished taking a sip when she finally spoke again and he placed the mug back down where he’d found it. 

To be fair, the look he gave her wasn’t so much surprise as it was curiosity. Nyx of night. The woman even more hidden than his sister. And women of the night were particularly good at that. There was more to the answer to what she was doing here of all places then than he really had. And he’d given her the honest truth. “It might.”

ode to a nightingale || open

Finding amusement in the fact that he could not place her Nyx let a small smile grace her lips. It was good to know that she still had the aura of mystery after all these years. So few people truly knew her these days. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle it,” she finally answered as she broke the short silence. They would clash quite epically if given the chance but he still didn’t even know what she meant.

Seeing the barista flush over a mere smile made Nyx roll her eyes. Humans were so simple to please these days. The girl didn’t even know who she was blushing over. “No the other person who radiates like the sun,” Nyx quipped as she glanced around. None in the crowd stood out like he did. Not even close. Luckily he didn’t play coy for long but his answer was one she could have gotten from any number of people in the place.

Turning to face him, Nyx hooked one slender leg over the other. Legs that were covered only by the trendy fishnet tights people seemed to like these days and a pair of shorts that were barely there. Considering him full on now that he was closer to her than he had been on stage Nyx appreciated the way he glowed. “That is a smart answer,” she offered before she inhaled the soothing smoke from her cigarette once more.

“Does the name Nyx ring any bells for you?”

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So he had been right. Goddess indeed. And yet in all the many years and all the places he’d been (and what with tracking down his sister time and time again, it was many) he’d never once come across her. He gave her a quick once over. She felt old. More than his father or his wife, more than even Hades himself and comparatively, his uncle was ancient. Though she seemed to know exactly who he was.

He laughed lightly at the pun, placing his tilting head in a propped up palm. “Well there’s an idea. And how would you propose we’d do that?” Bright ideas were usually up his alley, but then again he had no idea who she was. No idea what she did. Sharing became hard that way. He ruffled the feathers of Helios more times during the day than he could count and the two of them were on the same page. 

He took a breath as she lit up the end of the cigarette, spinning the bar stool around to look at the crowd constantly moving back and forth in front of them, not paying a single mind to either of the deities except to give a polite smile or two. He heard the light chink of a saucer as the barista returned with another coffee mug and he smiled at her, leaving pink blossoming on her face. 

“Me?” He turned towards the strange goddess again, his own brow raising as he reached behind him for the newly delivered coffee mug, cigarette held between his teeth. It was an odd question to ask. Sure the night wasn’t exactly his time of day, or at all, but it didn’t mean he still didn’t get out when the sun was down. In fact, he probably got out more. No need for a coffin or anything to keep him sheltered away when the sun went down. “Oh you know, some good music, coffee and a cigarette. The simple things. I could ask you the same thing but, I don’t know if I should.”

ode to a nightingale || open

Nyx knew this was her polar opposite who sat beside her. She’d heard of him before but had yet to meet him. Part of her wasn’t even inclined to do so now as she sucked in a deep breath and blew out circles of smoke. Inclining her head in his direction she raised a single brow. “If that were true then you’d have to share the day with me. You light up more than anything in this room,” Nyx mused before holding out the pack that she held in her free hand.

Waiting just long enough for him to take one she leaned in close, the cigarette now perched between her dark red lips and used it to light his. “Consider my end fulfilled,” she murmured as she turned her head away to avoid getting smoke right in his face. Sliding the pack back into her pocket she picked up her mug of coffee and took another sip.

“What brings you to a place like this, golden boy,” Nyx asked without sparing more than a sideways look at him. Her jealously only increased the longer she sat beside him. She felt darker and colder than ever. Surely she looked like she was shrouded in shadows at this point.

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The darkness was not his friend. Nor was the darkness his enemy. The darkness was a familiarity, a sometimes confidant, a sibling, less bright than he was but it still had a glow all the same in the night’s moonlight. Darkness was the thing that made him stick out like a sore golden thumb, made the separation between him and his sister all the more obvious if the way the two got on each other’s nerves when put in the same place for more than a day or night combined had anything to show for it. But no, he had no ill will against the darkness. He couldn’t be on the clock all the time after all, could he?

He finally found the time to peruse the crowd around him as the barista skittered off, half expecting to see a familiar face right around the corner for the odd sense of feeling eyes on him that washed over him right then. But it wasn’t just any stranger’s pair of eyes. Those he could easily ignore or indulge if he so wished without a second thought. He was used to an audience after all. This was different. Very different. It felt old, in a way. He turned to the woman beside him just as he heard the click of a lighter and felt heat spread up one side of his cheek. He tilted his head. It was the same sort of old feeling looking at her, the type one only got when looking at someone they knew long and well, or someone that looked too young for their insides. The insides of a god. But as much as he got around, he’d never really spoken to her before. 

“You know, if you light up in ‘ere, you’re gonna ‘ave to share one. Them’s the rules.”

ode to a nightingale || open

The coffee shop was one of the usual places that Nyx often found herself. It was dark just like the night she brought to life around her. The unusual part on this night was the boy on stage. He glowed in her otherwise dark haven and she couldn’t keep her eyes off of him. She found herself lost in the sound he offered and she closed her eyes only to realize it was now over.

With a sigh the tired goddess turned on her heel and headed for the bar. She’d need coffee to make it through the night once more. It hadn’t been like this forever but lately she just felt lethargic all the time when the stars were shining. Nyx craved something more than the darkness she was shrouded in. And yes the dark clothes were of her choosing but anything else looked ridiculous on her.

She was waiting on her coffee when she felt his approach. It was like warmth came walking over with him and Nyx felt a surge of jealously. She was an abnormally cold being. Avoiding his gaze she sipped at the black coffee once it was set before her not even bothering to wait for it to cool. The heat was welcome. Shutting her eyes she inhaled deeply and then shifted slightly.

Withdrawing a pack of smokes from her pocket she wondered at whether or not she could get away with lighting up here. Usually she wasn’t noticed in the dark place and could do as she pleased but the golden presence remained at her side. Lighting up she waited to see if their would be any objection.

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modern mythology aesthetics | apollo

↳ greek god of music, truth and prophecy, healing, the sun and poetry

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Speakeasies

Related post on former speakeasies of Chicago

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One summer night I fell asleep, hoping the world would be different when I woke.

Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz (via famousfirstsentences)

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love is gasoline and he’s the match. his skin glints gold in the shining dusklight; a storm just within waiting to explode. dynasties topple like dominoes. his is a kingdom built on hearts instead of bones. some people just stick to you. like honey on a hot day or red strings of fate. you don’t believe in fate. but you do believe in him. if you had a compass it would point to him.

coming home | m.j. (via fairytalesques)

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Perhaps all those small reminders of him that she found among the people filling the place wasn’t just plain coincidence. After all, he’d been the one leading them all in song whether they knew it or not, whether they could see him or not, glossing over the still tense aftershocks of war left in them like cement over cracks in the sidewalk. 

He’d mostly kept to himself that night by one of the pianos by the bar, only surrounding himself with a few of loud laughter, drunk enough to forget him come morning. A woman with feathers in her hair leaned down from her perch on the ebony instrument in front of him, pushing his shoulder a little too playfully as she laughed like he’d just told the funniest joke she would ever hear again. She giggled into her straw, unable to stop herself as he played another small tune, embellished by the last few notes improvised by the man sharing his piano bench. 

It was a time of trying too hard- to forget, to get back on your feet, to live with the weight of ghosts on your shoulders. No one could really be blamed for that. Not even his ever flighty sister- the one who’d written him from battlefields and then stopped entirely, then bombarded him in one go and then disappeared completely.

It was funny how that worked though, the coincidence of it all- just as you were ready to stop looking, like magic, the thing you were trying to find so hard just appeared, right on a silver platter. He had finished another drink, stealing the cherry that had been plucked out of the ice off of the fingers of his giggling, blushing girl with his teeth, a grin set on his lips. And then he excused himself to go get the group another round which is when, he supposed, she might’ve seen him through the crowd. And also when he finally noticed her.

It took him a while to recognize his sister’s war-worn features, to take them in. She finally looked the day older that she always said she was, harsher, more calculating, more cautious. He just stared for a while, almost until she was out the door. He was finally understanding what all the returned soldiers meant by ‘shell-shock’. Seeing her was almost like seeing the ghost of a friend. But this wasn’t war was it- that was over. It was the dawn of a new start, a new age, and whatever else the hopefuls were calling it.

She was halfway out the door now.

His hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, turning her to face him. He didn’t remember walking over, or weaving himself through the full crowd. 

“...Art?”

The words came out as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But she wasn’t a ghost. A war like that wouldn’t have even come close to killing her. Still...sometimes it was hard picking up where you’d left off, like trying to remember a number you were sure wasn’t going to pick up after the tone. 

on the town || artemis + apollo

The club was dim and hazy, the people were far too loud, and the ice in her drink was slowly melting- just the way Artemis like it. After the war, she’d stayed in Europe. She’d stayed among the broken, the stunted, the nations just starting to mend. The culture was booming, epsecially in Paris, where the artists of the time found themselves crowded into backroom clubs and private homes. They gravitated to each other, the shared experiences, the need for catharsis. They were the Lost Generation, and she was among them.

She brought no talent to the table, only criticisms and good conversation. Her brash attitude kept her in high esteem- she wouldn’t let anyone brush her off. True, she was a woman, but she had a voice, and if they tried to quiet her, she would scream.

They all reminded her of her brother, the talent which seemed to exude from every pore on each person around her. Tonight she was amongst the best. Their voices swirled around her, strains of familiar tones carrying short bursts of conversation out of the general hum to where she was seated. She swirled her drink absentmindedly as she scanned the crowd around her.

The drink was more of a formality than anything- she couldn’t get drunk, at least, not off of this watered down mortal rubbish (which brought up the question of just how much of it Dionysus had to drink to get as smashed as he did, but that was a thought for another time). She felt sturdier with something in her hand, and since it wouldn’t be a pen or a brush, a drink would have to do to fit in around here.

Her eyes flitted across the crowd until they locked onto a figure across the crowded room. Of course she’d run into family eventually, but somehow she still was unprepared for the other godly presence. There was something nice about anonymity, about blending in with the mortals. Artemis knocked back the rest of her drink before standing up, hoping to blend with the mass of people around her. Maybe if she got out now she could avoid her family just a little bit longer. Maybe.

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