Tumgik
#horrible. monstrous. would kill me in my sleep.
fangirl-erdariel · 1 year
Text
Ok I know this has been said before and more eloquently than I can rn (it's past midnight and I should be sleeping)
But the older I get, the more important it becomes to me that Eowyn is in a really dark place mentally when we first meet her in the book. That she rides to war out of suicidality, to get herself killed in battle. And that she heals, finds the will to live, finds the desire to heal things and make things beautiful rather than attempting to give her life meaning through dying a "glorious" violent death in battle.
I think when I was 12-ish and first read the book (or had it read to me as a bedtime story, rather, but same difference), I liked her because "oh look cool girl warrior character who doesn't do what she's told and defeats the monstrous evil bad guy no one else could kill!" And that is. that's fair, honestly. I was 12. I don't think I would want my 12-year-old self to have fully grasped the implications of Eowyn's actions, to have really understood that underlying despair and suicidality. I liked cool warrior girl heroes (I still do, honestly). And Eowyn does do amazing things, she is a hero, she does fulfill the prophecy and kill the Witch King, and it is cool, I'm not saying it isn't.
But like. Living in this world, reading the news, a lot of times I end up feeling just this utter despair and horror and helplessness at the bad things happening. And because of that, I really do end up feeling it when I look at Eowyn and see her despair, see how she's trying to die in battle because she doesn't want to go on living like that anymore and because she thinks her death in battle would make more difference and be more meaningful than her going on living.
And it's just so important to me that then at the end of the story, she's able to look at where she is and who she is and look at the world and go "no, actually, I want to live. I've had enough of death, I want to heal things, I want to make other people and other things also live". That she's able to want that, and believe that she is able to achieve that, that her life can have a purpose and meaning beyond a death worth telling a story about, and that that's something she wants to do, wants to work towards. It is just so important to me
Like, LOTR is in so many ways a story about hope and despair, it's present in damn near every character we meet in some way. And maybe it's just because I imprinted on Eowyn as a kid that her story in particular and her being able to overcome the despair and be hopeful about life again is so important to me but like. Fuck. The more horrible things I see happening everywhere in the world all around me, the more important Eowyn's story and her being able to find peace and healing becomes to me
4K notes · View notes
tinyinvadr · 11 months
Text
I’m so sane I’m so normal. Anyway, here’s more Borrowed Family!
Borrowed Family
Chapter 2
I froze up as the human stared at me from across the room. Neither of us moved or said a word for a solid minute. Then, he got out of bed and started to walk towards the desk.
At that point, I panicked, and started trying to run as if it would help me. No matter what, I was trapped. There was no way for me to get down from the desk, and he was gonna grab me or crush me or shove me in a jar.
My worst fears were realized when a massive pair of hands clamped around me, holding me in place. I was shuddering nonstop as I forced myself to look at the human.
He didn’t look angry, at least, but very confused.
“What… are you?”
I couldn’t speak. I just stood there, completely helpless as he lifted me off the desk like it was nothing. He turned me around in his hands a few times, looking at me from different angles. Then, with a single finger, he gently pulled my hood down to get a better look at my face.
“You’re human!? But… how did you get so small? Did Zim do this to you?”
At that point, I had no idea what to say. If he thought I was human, maybe he wouldn’t hurt me. But at the same time, if he figured out I was lying, it could end badly. Plus, I had no idea what a “Zim” was. I had to just come clean and hope for the best.
“N-No, I’m supposed to be this small. I’m a borrower. B-But we’re really not all that different from humans! Please don’t kill me…”
I shut my eyes, not wanting to look at him anymore. I doubted I was able to get through to him. There really was no getting out of this.
“What? No, kid, I’m not… I’ll just put you down now.”
I opened my eyes as he slowly and carefully lowered me back onto the desk, then took a few steps back.
All I could do was look up at him, waiting and watching to see what he would do next. Except he didn’t move. He stayed at a distance, looking concerned.
“Are you… really not gonna hurt me?”
I flinched a little as he raised his hands defensively. I think he noticed how scared I was and put his hands back down.
“Of course not! You’re just a little kid. Literally. But… what are you doing in my room?”
I avoided his gaze as best I could. Even if he wasn’t going to hurt me, I still felt awful that I ended up being discovered by a human. The whole point of this exercise was to prove to my Dad that I was ready to be a borrower. Clearly, I wasn’t.
“I-I’m just waiting for my Dad to come get me. He told me to wait here for him.”
The boy nodded. “Okay. Do you know where he went? Maybe I could help you find him.”
“NO! I mean, uh… you really shouldn’t. He doesn’t like humans, and… I don’t want him to know I messed up…”
The human took his eyes off me for the first time, looking down at his feet, ashamed.
“Yeah, I get that. But… is there anything else I could do to help? I’m sorry, I just… you’re all alone and scared and I’d feel really bad if I didn’t do anything.”
I hated how obvious my fear was. I couldn’t stop shaking. He was being so nice, but every story I’ve ever been told was about how horrible and monstrous humans are.
“D-Do you have a place I could sleep?”
He looked around the room for a second, then stopped when he saw something near his bed.
“Yeah, sure, wait one second.”
The boy went to the other side of the room, took a black coat off his bedpost, and folded it up into a large square shape. He brought it over to the desk and placed it down next to me, moving very slowly and carefully. He was actually trying not to scare me.
“Okay, hopefully that’s enough like a bed. Try it out, let me know if it’s comfortable or not.”
I climbed onto the folded up coat. It was pretty soft. I lied down, pulling the edge over myself like a blanket. Instantly much better than the stinky pencil case.
The human smiled at me, and I gave him a little smile back. I still wasn’t sure about the whole situation, but I was glad that he didn’t seem to be dangerous.
“Alright, if you’re good, I’m gonna go back to bed. Hopefully your Dad will come back soon. But, until then, I just want you to know that you don’t have to be afraid of me, okay? You’re safe here.”
I gave him a nod as he started to walk back towards his bed, but then he stopped and turned to look at me one last time.
“Oh, by the way, my name is Dib. What’s yours?”
I was almost gonna say it, but something stopped me. I don’t know why, but I never really felt like a Rosie. And I guess I was curious about what it would be like to go by another name. My parents would never want me to change it, but since this was only temporary and I’d probably never see Dib again, what was the harm in trying something new? So, I said the word that was still sitting in the back of my head for some reason.
“Recap!”
Dib paused, looking confused. “That’s… kind of an odd name, but, okay!”
With that, he got back into bed and went back to sleep, while I got myself comfortable on the makeshift coat bed.
As I drifted off to sleep, the last things on my mind were how weird this whole thing was. One of the monsters my family always warned me about was not only sparing my life, but he was being nice to me, and giving me a place to sleep while I waited for Dad.
Of course, I couldn’t fully trust him, but there was this part of me that was almost hoping it would take a little longer for Dad to find me. Just those words, “you’re safe here,” they never left my head. I… wanted that to be true.
When I woke up the next morning, Dib was still asleep. There was no sign of Dad anywhere. What was taking him so long? I looked around, just to double check and see if he was hiding anywhere, but nope.
I noticed Dib moving, and he let out a yawn as he woke up. He got out of bed and almost walked right past me, but then he backtracked and went back over to the desk.
“Whoa, you’re still here!? To be honest, I thought that was a dream. Wasn’t your Dad supposed to come and get you last night?”
I nodded. “Yeah… I guess he’s still looking!”
He looked like he was about to say something, but stopped.
“Okay… I guess you should probably stay here until then. I’m gonna go downstairs for breakfast. Want anything?”
It almost didn’t seem real. A human was offering me food. This never happened.
“Uhh… I’m okay with whatever! I don’t eat much.”
He looked like he was thinking something over for a second, then spoke again.
“I think I’ll just bring my plate up here so we can share, then. Do you like waffles?”
I never had waffles before. They’re not easy to borrow since they’re stored in the freezer, and that’s not the sort of place you wanna go inside unless you have to.
“I dunno. I never tried ‘em.”
Dib looked somewhat surprised. “Really? Wow. Well, you’re in for a treat, then! Wait right there.”
With that, he left the room. I sat and waited on the folded up coat, watching the door. I couldn’t get over it, he was actually bringing me food. I didn’t have to borrow it without him knowing, he was just… giving it to me. But why?
Either Mom and Dad were wrong about humans, or Dib was a very, VERY unique case.
19 notes · View notes
ralph-thechief54 · 4 months
Text
Entry 6
Oh...so much has happened. So much! I do not know where to even begin. I suppose I will start with Jack hosted a party and feast last night and... oh so much malice happened there. Piggy suggested we should go along to, just to see what was happening. I wish he did not suggest that NOW, knowing what dreadful event took place later on. We arrived and Jack's hunters brought us meat per his command. From then on, we could see how his group was controlled. Anytime there was something done not up to his likeable standards, he would get very mad quickly. Then scare the boys back into doing the task the way he wants it done. What a horrible way to be chief!! After we ate the meat, Jack brought up the question of who will now join his tribe. I argued back with the fact all the schoolboys chose me as chief so therefore whatever I say goes, and Jack left all over food. Jack abruptly brings the point to light I ran to food too. I shut my mouth quickly and blushed red. Jack took to mocking me and I was not having it. I tried to argue back with him until Piggy touched my arm and proposed we go back home and do without Jack and his tribe. We both look in the sky and see that it is going to rain. We look back at the tribe to see what they will do without anything covering their heads for the storm brewing. Instead, they do something usually unusual. Jack commands them to start dancing on the beach. And so, they did. It was a great swarm of the tribe, young and older schoolboys alike started to dance in great circles, big and small but powerful in motion. And soon their chant surfaced. "Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!" Me and Piggy get into the chant, not repeating the ever so horrid and morbid quote, but dancing along with the other boys. A figure-discarded and disheveled-was shoved into the middle of the circle. Then all the boys-me and Piggy were not apart I swear-started to attack. They savagely attacked at said beast until it was not breathing anymore. Blood was everywhere and Jack and his tribe fled into the night to wherever. Me and Piggy also retreated back to our side of the island. In the moment, we had not realized. But then that morning came, the realization kicked in, badly. We had just killed Simon. I am in denial. We did not kill Simon...right??? To top it off, last night we were ambushed during our sleep by Jack and two of his hunters. Only one item was taken. It was not the conch, no. It was Piggy's specs. They took Piggy's specs!! Why in the world?? Me, SamnEric, and Piggy went to confront Jack and his savage tribe. The reason they gave was because they needed fire. Why-why Piggy though?? I shout and call Jack all sorts of names, and that is when I made him livid. He lunged at me, and we started to fight. Piggy tried to intervene, and he really did!! He did not mean any harm, he just wanted his glasses back, you know, to see!! Piggy reminded me why we are in the first place, so we can get his specs to make our signal fires. I acknowledged him and calmed down. I tried to make peace, but they took SamnEric and tied them up as hostages. They forced them to be a part of their sick and twisted tribe. Then my temper rosed again, calling jack a bloody swine and a thief. I saw Piggy uphold the conch and tried to remind everyone what really held the power. The rest was a big blur, just like Simon's death. I heard a great, monstrous rock fall and knock Piggy off the cliff. The conch went with him, breaking into a million tiny little pieces. Piggy was knocked off the cliff and landed I think forty feet below on the rocks of the sea. Dying in one of the most gruesome and brutal ways possible. And all I could do, was stand there. Then, I felt a spear go force its way into my stomach. Jack had stabbed me!! He was going in for a second blow until...I do not know what happened. I just took off and run into the forest, far away from the brutal reality of what just happened.
3 notes · View notes
queenofplaguerats · 2 years
Text
Okay so I normally try to stay away from "lore" theories because they tend to border on fanfiction (nothing wrong with that, just not my niche) and generally don't add anything to the analysis of the text.
I will, however, indulge myself just this once for some
Rampant Speculation on the Cthulhu Mythos
Tumblr media
Yes, I'm a mythos fan girl, sue me. I'm not gonna get bogged down in a discussion of Lovecraft's views or even his writing because that's not what we're talking about today (for reference, he's a scumbag, racist sonuvabitch and I'd happily bring him back from the dead just to kill him all over. Also his writing is so so overwrought)
Now, with that disclaimer out of the way, let's get on to my actual point. I think we look at Cthulhu (and his assorted half siblings) the wrong way.
The "accepted" canon is that Cthulhu is the spawn of Yog-Sothoh and Shub-[name redacted, sounds like a slur], or that he's the spawn of Nug, the offspring of Yog-Sothoh and Shub-[nope, I'm not saying it]
I think these are both dumb and lame when there's an infinitely better alternative that would give the mythos a more consistent recurring element.
Cthulhu is the spawn of Yog-Sothoh and a member of the race we now call the Star Spawn of Cthulhu.
Just like how The Dunwich Horror and Wilbur Whateley are the twin sons of Yog-Sothoh and Lavinia Whateley.
Presumably Hastur, the King in Yellow, is the offspring of Yog-Sothoh and a member of some unseen and unknown race, long extinct or forgotten.
So why do I think this works? Well for one I don't have to mention Shubby nearly as often this way. More importantly, it contextualizes a lot about these creatures. Compared to his half-brothers, The Dunwich Horror was only a baby. Granted, a baby the size of a house that ate cattle whole, but still basically a baby. It makes it so much scarier with the added context that this... Thing, the product of an unholy Union of woman and great old one, could become something as cosmically horrible and vast as Cthulhu.
It also means that Cthulhu's Star Spawn are basically the fate that The Dunwich Horror could have inflicted on humanity, a twisted and monstrous army to serve him and spread the will of the old ones. Plus it means that the Star Spawn aren't born of Cthulhu, or made in his image, he's born of THEM, twisted into the image of his father Yog-Sothoh.
Plus, it would suggest that Hastur, who has no known race, simply destroyed or consumed his own kin on the path to apotheosis.
A recurring element in the mythos is our smallness, our tiny, delicate and precarious place in the world. Humanity is threatened when an unknowing God rolls over in his sleep, or some passing horror drifts too close to our little corner of the galaxy.
But in a way, isn't it more frightening to think that those things could be born of us? That every day, all the time, there are whole worlds being extinguished or enslaved by a monster born to their people? In a way, isn't that horror, one that's objectively smaller in scale and happening on distant world, so much closer to home?
23 notes · View notes
Note
This is so random but I’m just now realizing how bad of a superhero/villain or like monster hunter/monster I would make. Like, I always try and give people the benefit of the doubt and I n top of that I don’t believe in doing anything or developing any opinions if I can’t get an accurate telling of both sides of the story. So I’d be trying to get the monster/villain’s side of the story as a hero/hunter or at least try to urge them to get therapy or something. And if I was a villain I don’t think I could, in good conscience, do villain-y/monstrous things unless there was a specific purpose that outweighed the suffering involved by a wide margin. Not to mention I would start thinking about how the superheroes fighting me have like an entire life outside of being a hero just like me as a villain and then I’d start to worry if they were getting enough sleep and if not then it’s all my fault because I’m the one committing malicious acts; and if I were a monster I would only be able to see their hostile actions as an instinctive, human reaction to a threat, because at the end of the day that’s all a monster is in essence—a possible threat. And by that logic, anyone could be a monster, even a human. So would it then be my duty as a monster hunter to kill monstrous humans as well?
This all started when my professor got us deeper into the history of the indigenous people of North America and all that in our class, specifically the Sand Creek Massacre, and I remember talking to my mom about it later that day, telling her about how I couldn’t understand how someone could wake up in the morning with the knowledge that they’re going to be destroying lives (I’m mixed so we’ve had similar conversations but with slavery). And she said, simply, that that was just how it is. Some people just look as others and see nothing but (as she put it) “pigs”—by which she meant animals to kill or do with as they please (again, a similar answer as when we talked about slavery in the past) But I still couldn’t understand it, even though I’m well aware of the horrible acts humans can and do follow through with sometimes. Well, that’s not totally true. I could understand the reasonings behind them (much like with slavery), I just couldn’t understand how anyone could go through with it because those are whole-ass living beings that you’re hurting, sir. I wasn’t angry or anything (this, like slavery, happened in the past so I mainly was looking at it as something to just think about if that makes sense), but I wanted to understand the thought process even when I couldn’t to an extent. The whys grab my attention far more than the actual action (mainly because that’s just how I see history—something to be examined so that we can understand why things happened and prevent certain actions from being repeated. I’m not trying to be insensitive ever btw, so if I am feel free to tell me).
And then I started thinking about all of this when looking back in my reactions to how humans and na’vi are seen by themselves and each other. On the one end I, as a human, have a deep understanding of the nature of my species and why we’re doing what we’re doing. I can’t truly hate many of the humans (except for Quaritch, I think we can all agree on that) or even humanity as a whole because I’ve experienced all of the good within our species too and cling to it protectively, not wanting to see it die out or be overlooked by those who have never experienced it, but also because I can admittedly understand the business part of it as well and how it ties into our human world. But at the same time, I can’t dismiss the traumatizing experiences of the na’vi that was brought on by humans and is still happening, along with the needless focus on what the humans are mining for in Pandora (the fact that they’re not internalizing the lessons of history irritates me more than anything here). I can’t condone horrible behavior just because they were acts committed by my fellow humans, but that doesn’t mean I have to agree with the lumping together of humanity as a whole that the na’vi could potentially do either because at the end of the day it’s a small percentage of humanity that’s even actively doing it to begin with.
Anyways, I think too much to be ever be anything but a neutral party in a hero/villain or monster/hunter world lol. You’re nice and have interesting things to add that always make me think (like with your thoughts surrounding Jake and animals after my somewhat depressing thoughts) so that’s why I’m sending you this ask btw, sorry if you’re not into discussing things like this or if this annoys you.
Oh god, never worry about annoying me, I'm sorry it takes me a while to get to these! No worries though, I am officially caught up on asks now, they're all in the drafts and ready so I'm good.
I totally get where you're coming from. It's important to remember that most people involved in these massive acts of cruelty and human rights abuses that we can't fathom ever being a party to were bystanders; complicit in their inaction. And most of our villains these days do what they do because they do think the purpose is greater than the suffering. It's easy to overlook the suffering of others when you are suffering as well, or when you don't think of them as people. It is hard for us to imagine from an outside perspective, and I don't at all sympathize with perpetrators or bystanders, but I understand how someone can end up in that position. I think it's important to me to be someone who strives to learn from my past inaction so I can do better in the future. That's all anyone can do, really. So, I think I understand, but I don't relate, if that makes sense.
But these are good thoughts and complex empathy to have for these characters. I wish it was true we all agreed on hating Quaritch though, lol.
2 notes · View notes
antevault · 2 years
Text
Can’t Sleep, Can’t Breathe by Digital Daggers is so c!dream&c!sapnap and here is my case
“Dire straits and dirty consequences
An invitation to your personal disaster
It's a point break
Another guilty conscience
And I won't stop you til you get just what you're after”
straightforward for the most part; sapnap is calling him out, saying “you made your choices, and here are the consequences.” even if dream hits his point break- becomes overwhelmed by the guilt and regret and tries to atone- sapnap won’t stop. he’s going to see this through, no matter what happens.
“I'm taking you down with me
I'm taking you down with me
Til you
Can't sleep, can’t breathe
You met your enemy
Can't sleep, can’t breathe
Won't get no peace with me”
beginning is very literal. sapnap is laying his life down to put an end to dream’s influence. he’s been hunting dream relentlessly for months following their first encounter in snowchester, where dream tried to manipulate sapnap back to his side or at least into obedience, but sapnap stood his ground and made his intentions clear. in that encounter, dream met his enemy, and it was his brother.
“You tried to tempt fate, be careful what you wish
I'll take you deeper and strip you of salvation
It's a crusade to bring you to your knees
It's what you wanted, your last manipulation”
dream broke out of prison and continues to use the revive book- “tempting fate” as it were. because of this, XD dropped the death book, and now sapnap has the ability to not just kill dream, but “strip him of salvation” or render him unable to ever be revived. wielding this power, he’s now on a death march to track dream down and remove him from the board permanently. in a way, going to see dream now would be doing what he wants; sapnap has the Nightmare set, so by going to dream, he’s “returning” it.
the chorus repeats, then…
“The lower you go the less that you'll know
You're sinking to the bottom now
You're losing control
The lower you go
You're sinking to the bottom now”
as dream has continued acting increasingly monstrous, he’s lost allies who could have given him information, and he’s burned bridges that could have saved him. by choosing to rule through fear, he’s ultimately losing more control than he could have maintained ruling more amicably. as far as sapnap is concerned, dream has no allies and no friends who would offer him aid. his debt with techno is squared and everyone else has turned on him. he’s at rock bottom and there’s nowhere to run.
so yeah basically this song is HELLA dream and sapnap, from sapnap’s perspective. he’s resigned to this horrible thing he wishes he didn’t have to do, but he still feels a sense of righteousness and justice for taking dream out, and a quiet catharsis in going down with him, hand in unlovable hand. from his perspective, he is a hero forced by fate to sacrifice himself and slay his brother, thus saving the world. he feels dream has forced his hand, and he’s furious with him for that. they could have been happy if dream had only stayed in prison like he was supposed to. why couldn’t he just stay inside?
it doesn’t matter. sapnap made a promise, and he will pay any price to keep it.
2 notes · View notes
furiousgoldfish · 3 years
Text
Personal post about trauma under the cut, extremely upsetting content, do not read if you had narcissistic parents and don't wanna get triggered, I am very sad and mad and it's hard to talk about this. TW child labor, child torture, brainwashing, death threats, narcissistic abuse.
*
I was a hardworking child, I was happy and excited to work, I wanted to be a part of everything that's being done. I noticed work warranted for people to get respect, food, praise, acceptance, and I wanted to work hard so I too would be a part of that. My family lived in a rural area, they kept animals, grew fields of crops, were always in some sort of construction work, so me always being eager to work was pretty much ideal for them, or you'd think that it was. You'd think that.
I was working eagerly and I realized, that unlike for adults, I don't get respect, praise, acceptance, or sometimes even food. It was for some reason denied to me only. And I was still happy to work because I chased that feeling of personal accomplishment, even if there was no rewards. And again, you'd think this is perfectly convenient and ideal to parents who wanted free labour and to give no recognition or praise in return. You'd think that.
But it wasn't enough for them. Father got this idea to take me out to work with him alone, away from home. I remember the place we went to, only as a place I need burned down to the ground before I could breathe again. It was a demolition-construction of a house, and I don't remember how many time I've been there. All I know is, after first few times, I no longer wanted to go. I begged not to go.
I am guessing my father could not bear the looks of me working happily, or even working silently. Me doing everything I was told was not fun enough for him– so he would give me false instructions. As an easy setup for punishment. I did exactly what I was told, and would get screamed at and beaten up. Then forced to keep working in tears, shaking, terrified, injured, while being further berated. And that was only the start.
Even as a child, I was diligent and responsible about doing work, and I know I was getting things done just fine, because, I was doing the sibling's share of chores too. If siblings were called to work, they would simply mess up on purpose so I would be told to repeat it after them, correctly. Sometimes siblings would have me do it and take the credit, which I didn't mind because working made me feel better about myself. It made me feel useful. My mind was already dissociated from my body to the point where I no longer felt exhaustion, pain, strain, or any physical effect work was having on me. I would get berated and shamed if I showed signs of being tired or strained. So my body disregarded it all.
And yeah, that wasn't enough either. I was still sometimes feeling okay. If I was allowed to work alone, and let my mind wonder, if nobody commented on it I knew it was okay.
So this is where they decided to take a step further and disallow me to feel okay at any point. I was humiliated while working to the point of tears. I'd be ridiculed in front of guests. I could no longer enjoy my own thoughts, but constant criticism, insults, accusations and humiliation was raining down on me at every step. And when I was done, with tremendous effort it took to endure this, I would be told 'It would have been better if you had done nothing.' So my insane effort to endure abuse to get things done, was rendered worthless in a second.
Father kept taking me away to work alone with him, and forced me to listen to his monologues, which I hated, because he was boring, wrong and self-obsessed, but I wasn't allowed to say that, or argue. My silent compliance was never enough. He had to hit me. He had to find something to berate me over. He kept inventing reasons. I would clean his entire garage and he'd move a steel closet I couldn't possibly move and berate me for not cleaning under it.
I had a log thrown into my head, causing a head injury, and I had to keep working. I fell and fractured my shoulder so badly I could barely walk; I was brought to a forest to drag logs around, too heavy for me to lift. I was sometimes orchestrated to get injured; father would start a trailer I was standing on the edge of, and forced me to fall by quickly moving forward just enough. I was still expected to work after that. He hit me with a blunt edge of an axe and berated me for standing there. I was told to 'not expect a lift to the hospital'. I was brought to work while starved, grieving, suicidal. I was lied to about where I was going and what would I be doing, and for how long. I was never allowed to stop working.
And the game of giving me wrong instructions and punishing me for doing it 'wrong' never stopped. I caught on and begged for correct instructions. I would ask to explain, how to do it, to show me, anything. 'HOW OLD are you not to know this? I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO TELL YOU! YOU SHOULD KNOW THIS BY NOW!' And by his rage, I could tell that if I don't do it any way I knew how, I'd be punished instantly. I had no choice but to try – and of course fail, and feel horribly ashamed for 'deserving to get beat up'. Eventually my brain started shortcircuiting at the simplest tasks, I would mess up because I was in terror. I couldn't think.
At this point, I no longer wished to work for people who would inflict violence on me. And that is when I was quckly informed that if I didn't work, I would be killed. Not in those words. It was 'You have to work if you want to live!' followed by 'We can kick you out and you will starve on the street. Nobody will take you in. There is no place for you. Nobody wants someone like you. You don't deserve to eat if you don't work.' My choices were taken away. If I still refused, the result would be to beat me and force me to work injured, shaking and crying.
All this, for what? I would have been HAPPY to work. I would have been chasing my little daydreams and singing the pokemon tune, and if I was ever praised, I'd be the happiest kid on the block. I was a kid who liked to work. I wanted minimal fairness, minimal acknowledgment. To be a part of the family. Only that.
It just wouldn't do for the narcssistic father. Watching a child be broken, terrified and shaking, crying, ashamed, guilty, working past exhaustion, in injuries, was just too tempting for him to pass up. Even free labor wasn't worth to him as much as the pleasure of child torture. He needed that like it was a drug. What kind of a sick high did he experience, breaking a defenseless kid? What kind of pleasure did it entail, getting someone rid of their natural happiness to work? Was it fun, tearing me into pieces, over and over again? Does he remember it as a delicious, satisfying pleasure? Does he daydream about it? He knew it was wrong; he forced me to stop crying and hide the tears before we went home. 'Don't say anything to your mother.' I was told before being stuffed back in his car.
And now... I can't work. I can't even move sometimes. It was torn away from me. My ability to work was ripped away from my child body when I had no way to defend it or to grab it back and protect what is mine. I can't work anymore. It's terrifying. It terrifies me to not work. Because I was made aware working is the only thing keeping me alive, and capitalism confirms this, so I remain to forever fight with myself about how even if everyone says otherwise, I still deserve to live. Heartbroken, abandoned, with my basic human abilities stripped from me. It doesn't make me deserving to die.
I am so angry and sad. If I had my natural ability to work back, I'd be fine. I would be able to live safely. I wouldn't spiral into feeling like an unworthy member of society. I learned to survive very insecurely like this, but I hate every second of it. To know that instead of this insane uncertainty, anxiety, guilt for being bedridden, guilt for existing and not moving, I could have just found a job, have normal income? I can't bear it. I can't bear knowing this was wrenched away from me, because it was pleasurable to do so, because tearing me into pieces was a fun hobby for people who didn't care if what they were doing to me killed me. And I couldn't have done anything to stop it. And I'm like this now. Unable to take any more torture, unable to endure any more of being triggered, wondering if I would die from lack of resources, or would my body fail permanently in attempts to process all the exhaustion and pain I was dissociated from for my entire childhood.
How was this worth it. How it could have been worth it to anyone, destroying someone's ability to work, only because it's pleasurable. I felt the plan was to work me until I no longer could do it, then kill me. It's what they did to animals. And I was told I was more worthless than an animal. I was called lazy and a monstrous name I can't even translate, that implied I was burdening everyone with my existence.
It was even a bigger punch to my face to realize, after I escaped, that he was profiting from everything I did. That it would have taken money – way more than was ever spent on my survival, to get all that labor done. He was profitting while telling me I was worthless and don't deserve to eat or sleep in his house. He is now renting the place I was broken to help build. I was torn apart and he is still benefiting from it. And I have nothing. Not even a functional body to work with anymore.
I know I'm not the only person who was constantly left alone with narcissists as a child and had this, or worse, done to them. They don't care which pieces of children are left over by the time they're done getting their high. We're only a thing to consume, not living beings, not people, not someone whose life matters. Our pain is food to them. My father readily became a predator who snached his own kid away for torture sessions, and felt proud and fulfilled to turn his own child into a creature who cannot work anymore to survive.
Don't leave children alone with narcissists. I am trying so hard to get better, but facing reality, is this a thing a person gets better from? It's not a bodily harm of once or twice, this was happening for the most majority of my lifetime. It makes sense I cannot move. It makes sense I'm terrified to be triggered into this. It makes sense I can barely bear the reality of it. A person tortured hundreds of times wont just get up and walk away. I can't either. I have to lie here and hope that one day it will get better.
If you read thru all this, and you relate to the parts of this story, know that I am so sorry for what you were put thru. It's devastating and horrenous. If this is how you grew up, it would have been better not to have a family. We all should have been protected from this.
174 notes · View notes
dwollsadventures · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
The second part of a request from TheLOAD from... a while back. The initial one was the Nix/Nokk/Knucker piece. This one took me a little longer for a few reasons. Mostly school reasons. And writer's block reasons,  which is why this is taking the place of the monthly preview. And because, for research, I had to re-read the entirety of Drakon by Daniel Ogden for information. For those not used to my pedantry, this is not an "in-canon" family tree of the Greek dragons, such as you might see in those huge Greek mythology family tree pictures that are on the internet (I've got a few in my favorites from waaaaayyyy back as well). Rather, this is a way of showing how the concept of the dragon came about throughout time and how other beings are related through those branching lines. Of course this is presented as a lot more neat than it probably should be. If it were truly accurate it would have interconnected lines all over the place and obscure the little lizards. Before we talk about what's on the tree let's talk about what's not on it. Though Odgen talks about every (and I mean every) slightly Draconic being in Greek and Roman mythology, I've opted to include a trimmed down version. Because some, like Medusa and Lamia, I personally do not consider dragons proper, and others like the goddess Keto are relatively obscure and probably only exist to explain the existence of a related being (like the ketea). Creatures like Chimera and Typhoeus are included because, while not usually serpentine or draconic, they are in effect dragons; horrible, vaguely reptilian monsters slain by a hero. Not every individual dragon is depicted, only the ones I thought pertinent to include. (warning: LONG)
To start with, a drakon is a snake. The Greeks used the word to refer to both huge monsters and mundane snakes. Drakon itself is derived from the word dérkomai and is believed to literally mean, "the one who sees". The hypnotizing power attributed to snakes is present in drakons, traditionally given the job of the sleepless guardian of treasure. Going back even further, we see that the drakon comes from two disparate cultural perceptions of snake, each of which is still present in its classical form.
Snake Goddess - One of the native precursors of the Greeks were the Minoans. They had more in common with their Egyptian and Near Eastern neighbors than the Italians and Balkans. From what little we can gather of their culture, it appears the snake was a symbol of the goddess. Whether or not it was any goddess in particular is unknown. This theme survives into ancient Greece, however. Athena often uses snakes as agents when acting with mortals, Hera uses them as well (the twin serpents who attempted to strangle Heracles and the Hydra), and Medea had a chariot pulled by snakes. Earth goddesses in particular are heavily associated with them. Python was a direct product of Gaia, and the snake was a divine symbol of Demeter, who also had a rad snake chariot. Even in mortal women, their dynamic with snakes and dragons is nurturing. Several heroines sing to snakes as their masculine counterparts steal the treasure they guard, fulfilling a nurturing role in comparison to the destructive masculine one. Here the snake is a guardian, a creature of the earth and everything beneath it, including gold and the dead. These dragons are usually not slain, but pacified by the presence of a woman. In addition, the beard is an originally Greek symbol associated with snakes, particularly those connected to the gods. This was quite possibly a signifier of their supernatural status above mundane serpents. The goddess depicted above isn't any one in particular, though her dress does pull from a statue of Athena holding a curled python.
Drakaina - One way in which the snake goddess has survived is in the drakaina. This word is simply the feminine form of drakon, but also encompasses the numerous beings characterized by having the upper body of a woman and the lower body of a drakon. Numerous beings in Greek mythology fit this theme, but the one I've focused on is the Scythian drakaina, a woman who intercepts Heracles during one of his labors and kidnaps some cows. She offers to return the cattle in exchange for a night of intercourse. And then Herc is off and we're told the three sons of that union go on to become kings of great renown in Scythia. Some authors interpret this as a Greek adaptation of a Scythian myth, with one of the key pieces of evidence being that the drakaina's name is Hora, meaning "Seasons". Regardless of whether or not this is a goddess, it is a story where the snake-woman is neither killed nor stolen from, instead given the prestige of being the founder of a line of kings.
PIE Chaos Serpent - From the Proto-Indo-Europeans up North, we get the dragon we're all more familiar with. Serpents of this breed, such as Apep, Tiamat, and Jormungand, are all enormous, destructive creatures allied with darkness and the unforgiving seas. They represent the primordial chaos from what order sprang out of, and often have a hand in trying to return the world to that way. One of the primary themes associated with them is the dragon slayer: a god or hero who fights a dragon to save something, be it a land or treasure or an Ethiopian princess.
Typhoeus - This guy, though significantly more humanoid and giant-like than any others, is the clearest example of a PIE chaos serpent in Greece. It does not get more typical than a giant snake (like) monster fighting a storm god. Typhoeus probably sprung from traditions where he was more serpentine, but gradually added other aspects. Such as his own storm god qualities. In Greece, gods associated with the winds are always given wings, save for Zeus. The two's battle is reflective of a battle between the terrible whirlwinds and lightning strikes and the calmer, helpful rain showers that enable humanity to survive. 
And then we get to the drakon proper. Taking elements from both sides of the tree, the archetypal Greek drakon is an enormous, often monstrous serpent associated with both the underground and the waters in some way. They are agents of gods, most often goddesses, sent to battle heroes or guard priceless treasures. Sometimes they're killed, sometimes they're merely lulled to sleep by a helpful maiden. Rather than breathing fire (which everything from mechanical bulls to horses to giants do), they possess venoms and rows of sharp teeth. Mention of their terrible gazes is often made. This drakon has both a beard and a casque-like crown, common elements in drakon descriptions from Greece. Its face is much less serpentine, being modeled after a clay illustration of the Colchian dragon. This gives is a suitably monstrous look, as if it were being pealed from layers of mud.
Chimera - Despite its odd appearance, the chimera fits the pattern of a dragon terrorizing a countryside and being slain by a plucky hero. The chimera may in fact be the originator of the classical Saint George imagery, where the saint is depicted as towering over a crawling, pitiful dragon. A 3rd century mosaic from Imperial Rome may have started this trend. What makes her (because despite her mane the Chimera is a female) stand apart from all the rest is the sheer strangeness of her form compared to others. Especially the little goat that comes out of her back, like a rider. Which I had to cut for spacing reasons :(
Hydra - Another classical Greek dragon is the multi-headed hydra, who has given its name to a whole genre of creatures with more heads than they ought to have. In addition to having the attributes of a typical Greek drakon, the Hydra has two traits seen in Mesopotamian monsters as well. The first is the amount of heads. Having many heads is not as common in Greece as it is in the Near East, where the idea of an eleven-headed sea serpent pops up numerous times across several different cultures. The second is that the hydra, in its earliest mentioning by Hesiod, is said to have been raised by Hera specifically to combat Heracles. This same tactic is done by a few Mesopotamian gods. In their realm of influence, monsters are pawns of the gods, who send them out to do their bidding on Earth while they lounge in Heaven. Our Hydra may have been a later influence from Greece's neighbors to the East. Also, had to add in the crab that Hera also sends in to help the hydra. If this were a spec bio piece, I would make it a species of crab that evolved to clean the hydra of parasites.
Cetus - Sea monsters such as these are perhaps the furthest from the traditional Greek drakon, while still remaining core parts of the mythology. In form cetoi range from exaggerations of real whales and sharks to dog-headed serpents with frilly fins and ears. Or even animal-headed fish. Because they live underwater, they almost always function as tools of divine vengeance. Kinda hard to steal treasure underwater. Heavy metal tends to sink. While cetus was originally a word for any sea monster, it would eventually become the root of the scientific term cetacean: whales and dolphins.
But the tree doesn't end there. See, even after the culture we recognize as the Ancient Greeks and Romans faded, their dragons still lived on. Medieval Europe, with its glorification of Greco-Roman texts, derived many of their folk beliefs from their predecessors. Or, the people who they liked to imagine were there predecessors.
Draco - The Romans adopted the Greek drakon whole-clothe, like a lot of stuff. The only noteworthy original dragon to come out of the pre-Fall Roman era was the Dacian Draco. The Dacians used the image of a dragon as a standard during war-time, represented as a serpent with the head of a dog. When conquered, the Romans adopted this, possibly beginning the Western tradition of associating dragons with military power and identity. The dog-headed serpent would also survive to the modern period, showing up in descriptions of Balkan lamya. 
Indian Drakon - Here begins a tradition in Greek and Roman literature that claimed that foreign parts were full of large, dangerous, and more interesting fauna than the mundane peninsula they were all stuck on. This is a common theme of humanity in general, where everyone you're not familiar with is teeming with exciting and ancient life. Just look at cryptozoology. India in particular was a favorite of Greek tall tales, being far away for journeys to be rare, but also rich and full of exotic animals. Philostratus populated India with three types of drakons: the lowly marsh, the silver hill, and the dazzling golden mountain drakons. They were typical in every respect, having enormous sizes, red crowns, beards, and guarding treasure beneath the earth. An interesting addition was that they were the mortal enemies of elephants. Being the largest land-animal (in real life), they made perfect prey for these humongous serpents. Feeding on them was fraught with peril, however, as the struggle between reptile and mammal could result in the death of either party, or both. To symbolize the foreignness of the drakon, I drew it as a sort of hybrid between the drakon and the Hindu naga. 
Pliny's Drakon - This drakon is otherwise the same as the Indian, but is the start of another theme. As time went on, philosophers began taking more grounded looks at fantastical animals. While also perpetuating even more outrageous falsehoods. None was more popular than Pliny the Elder, hence the name. He believed that, while foreign drakons might be real, they were much more similar to the snakes of Greece than the monsters of legend. He scoffed at the crowns and hair they were adorned with. His Natural History was the first of many instances where the fantastical elements of the dragon were toned down to seem more palatable to a scientifically minded audience. It also introduced an interest into the life history of the dragons, treating them as real animals with lives beyond the myths. Our dragon up top evolved to resemble pythons, rather than the other way around to what probably happened in real life, where pythons were exaggerated to become dragons.
Then, we get two foreign influences, which would come to shape the modern definition of the European dragon. Christianity's influence cannot be understated here. As Jonathan Evans states in Medieval Folklore, the dragon came to be confused with several other desert animals. In Jewish and early Christian belief, desert animals were themselves demonic, living in inhospitable regions devoid of human life. Later, texts like Revelations would specifically denote dragons as heralds of evil, and even harbingers of Armageddon itself. This is in contrast to the morally neutral Leviathan. In the medieval era, dragons were beings of evil, without a doubt. Bestiaries were full of on the nose fables about how the natural lives of dragons. Like how they could not stand the breath of a panther (a symbol of Jesus Christ). Or how they could not catch birds that nested in the Peridexion tree (the tree being the church and the birds being Christians, who are safe from the devil so long as they do not stray from the arms of God). This is represented by a typical medieval devil, being brightly colorful and made in mockery of God's creations, aka a weird hybrid with a snake coming out of his butt. Then, the Germanic dragon. This is seen especially in Northern and Western Europe. The Germanic dragon is otherwise similar to the Greek, except that it began as a character of evil. Lindworms and other serpents are almost always antagonists, and there is no heroine who saves them from their fate of death. They also had a stronger connection to treasure. Greek dragons guarded treasure as a job, but the very existence of Germanic dragons is tied with their golden hoards. In addition, in Greek myths, getting transformed into an animal is usually the end of one's story. With the Germanic dragon, it's merely the beginning. Transformed dragons act as antagonists and moral lessons wrapped in one; a lesson to all to not be greedy. Germanic dragons, represented by the lindworm, reinforced their role as antagonists and agents of selfish evil.
Which finally brings us to the medieval dragon. In a way, this creature is a mix of everything above. The dragon is an animal and demon in one, simultaneously a figure of evil who spoils the land around them and a living being with its own life and needs. The medieval era also introduces the origin of dragons, showing them as having nests and young, not simply coming into existence out of the earth or sea like before. They also developed some less reptilian traits, like wings and hair. This was probably because of artistic traditions among the monks who wrote bestiaries rather than popular legend, which continued to conflate them with snakes and lizards and even crocodiles. This particular line of the tree would develop a life of its own, spreading far and wide across Europe and eventually reaching beyond the seas. Our modern conceptions of dragons are a whole 'nother story.
65 notes · View notes
nyxshadowhawk · 3 years
Text
The Lady of the Labyrinth
My entry for @dionysia-ta-astika's City Dionysia contest! I'm very proud of myself for having finished it in a week, and I thought I'd share it here on my own blog.
Hail Dionysus!
*** Everything was lost. My brother was dead. My love was gone.
I was also stranded on a deserted island. I stared out at the vast, empty expanse of the sea. The sunlight on the waves winked at me with a thousand eyes, as though diamonds had been scattered across the surface of the water. Anyone would find this beach tranquil, I suppose, if they were here under different circumstances than mine.
My brother’s name was Asterion.
Most people didn’t know his name, or even that he had one. To most people, he was the Minotaur, a horrible monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull that eats people. Asterion was a monster, and he did eat people.
Beneath my father’s shining palace, he prowled the twists and turns of the Labyrinth that my father’s genius architect built. The Labyrinth was mine, once. Daedalus made it for me as a dancing path, when I was a little girl. But now it is a dark, disorienting maze of seemingly endless passageways, and I was still the only person who knew how to navigate it. When I could have time alone, I would go to the Labyrinth. I felt my way through its pitch-black corridors, memorizing the nicks and cracks in the rough stone, trying to calm my thoughts. I spoke to Asterion through the walls: “You have never seen the sun,” I said to him. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like in the outside world? Or do you like it down here?” I received no answer from the surrounding darkness. If I did hear something — a snort, or hooves on stone, I would have to run as fast as I could away from the sound. Even I couldn’t go too near Asterion — I wouldn’t want to run the risk that he might attack me.
“Why do you go down there?” My sister, Phaedra, asked me. “What could possibly be appealing about that dark, dismal place?”
“I like it down there,” I said, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as I could. “It is peaceful. And I don’t mind the dark.”
She looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted bull’s horns myself. “You know you risk your life every time you enter the Labyrinth, right?”
“He’s our brother,” I said. I don’t know what I intended to explain by saying that. I felt like I had a responsibility to him that extended beyond simply being his sister. I tried to see a man in him, although he sniffed and bellowed and charged like a bull. He could gore me to death like a bull, but I did not fear him. “I can’t say I love him, but I feel something.”
“You shouldn’t feel any sympathy for him. He’s a freak of nature. The gods cursed us with him for our father’s arrogance. He is a shame upon our kingdom.”
She was right, of course. The gods gifted us a beautiful white bull that we were meant to sacrifice to Poseidon, but my father decided to keep it instead. And Poseidon cursed us… Asterion is the unholy offspring of my mother and the bull. And it gets worse. Every seven years, seven young men and seven young women from the city of Athens were brought to the Labyrinth to be fed to my brother. This was because my other brother, whom I was too young to remember, died while in Athens. Athens pays for this slight with the lives of other young people.
I suppose it’s no different than war, or at least, that’s what my father says. All cities send their youths to die for the polis. How was this any different? I could hardly bear the prisoners’ wails of desperation or their pleas for me to help them. When I heard they were coming, I begged my father to set them free, asserting that it was wrong to sacrifice humans to anything. If the gods had cast Tantalus into Tartarus for feeding them his son, then why should we knowingly feed humans to a monster? He laughed at me and asked why I had no pride in my family.
I hated the thought of the fourteen young people being fed to him, but I also couldn’t imagine killing my own brother, even if he was a monster.
I was too young to remember the last time the prisoners came to the Labyrinth. They had come, and my brother had gorged himself on their flesh, and I was none the wiser. This time, I knew, and the horror of it struck me silent as the tributes were paraded through the city like animal sacrifices to the gods, so that we could all see those who were doomed to die. I could hardly bear to look at them. Some of those girls were barely older than me. It felt wrong to sit by and watch as they were brought to the Labyrinth. But what could I do to save their lives? Supplicating my father would not work, and the only other option was helping them to escape, somehow. How could I do that?
In spite of myself, I caught sight of one of the young men. He was handsome, and he had a defiant, blazing look in his eye. He looked straight at my father on his throne. “I am Theseus of Athens!” he declared. “I have come to slay your monstrous son!”
My father had laughed at him, but he consumed my thoughts. That may be because he was absolutely gorgeous, but it was also because if he succeeded at killing Asterion, he would solve all my problems. I wouldn’t have to take my own brother’s life, but he would devour no more innocent lives. And, if this youth survived, he might take me away with him. I knew the Labyrinth better than anyone. Even if he did survive, he could never make it in and out without my help.
Forgive me, Asterion.
The prisoners were held in two dank cells near the entrance to the Labyrinth. The women were kept in one, and the men were kept in the other. Many of the prisoners were crying — not just the women, but the men, too. In my familiarity with the Labyrinth and its inhabitant, I had forgotten just how terrifying both would be to anyone else. The Labyrinth’s darkness and maddening complexity would intimidate anyone, and the prospect of being eaten by a monster within its depths was horrific.
Only Theseus seemed calm. His boldness in front of my father hadn’t been an act. His jaw was set, and he still had raw determination in his steely eyes. He was really going to do it, wasn’t he? He actually meant to kill Asterion. He shone like gold in the gloom of the dungeon — he could have been Apollo. If our circumstances were different, I might have wanted to stroke his chest. “Who are you?” he demanded when I approached the cell, as though I were the one behind bars, and had requested an audience with him.
“I am Ariadne,” I said, “daughter of Minos, princess of Crete.”
“I am Theseus, son of Aegeus, prince of Athens,” he returned.
Prince of Athens. That explained his noble bearing and proud mien, not to mention his handsome features… and yet… “There is no way the King of Athens would have sent his own son to be fed to the Minotaur,” I said. “Why are you really here?”
“I said, didn’t I? I’m here to slay the Minotaur. I volunteered as tribute.” He smirked. “I promised my father that I would return alive. No more of our people will be sacrificed to the monster!”
“You speak with a lot of confidence for someone who is currently in a prison cell,” I said. “What are you going to do, Theseus? Do you have a plan?”
“Of course I have a plan!” he said, a little defensively. “I am going to break out of this cell. And then I will conquer the Labyrinth—”
“How? You’ll be dead of starvation before you even reach the Minotaur, assuming he doesn’t find you first.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you taunting me?”
I leaned forward, looking directly into his eyes. “No. I was actually going to offer to help you. I know the Labyrinth. I go into it all the time.”
“No, you don’t. You’re trying to get me to sleep with you. Or trying to deceive me on behalf of Minos.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t find anything to say in response to that. For a moment I just stared at him. Was he always this self-assured, even in the worst of circumstances? If he wanted to sleep with me, I certainly wouldn’t complain, but why would he assume that I would deceive him? Well, perhaps it was his right to be suspicious, in a strange land where he was kept as a prisoner. “I… no,” I finally replied. “I’m being serious. I’m here to help you.”
“Why, then?”
“I think it is very noble of you to want to save the other Athenians, and I agree that no more innocent lives should be lost.”
He smiled slightly, but still looked suspicious. “You have no loyalty to your father?”
“My father is cruel and selfish. Why else do you think my mother gave birth to a monster, anyway?”
“The monster is your brother? What was his father, a bull?”
“Yes.”
That seemed to have stunned him into silence. I felt some satisfaction at that. “Listen to me. Without my help, you will not get through the Labyrinth. If you want to kill the Minotaur, you need me.”
“What’s the catch?” he asked. “You’re going to want something in return, aren’t you? What?”
“Take me off this accursed rock,” I said. “I am sick of Crete, I’m sick of my father, and I don’t want to have to put up with whatever punishment he might give me for helping you.”
“Well, you are a princess, and I suppose you would make a fine bride for me.”
My heart leapt at those words, and I felt myself blushing. Perhaps I should have known better. “Really? You would marry me?”
“If you help me to slay the Minotaur, then yes, I will marry you.”
“Deal.”
Theseus remained in my thoughts from that point onward. When I closed my eyes, I saw his face, and I imagined the feel of his skin. I’d never seen a man like him before, and oh, if I married him… would I be happy? Happier than I was here, at least? He seemed like the kind of man that Phaedra and I dreamed we would marry as young girls — strong, brave, handsome, and willing to put himself on the line for the sake of his people. All such admirable qualities.
I returned to Theseus when the prisoners were locked into the Labyrinth’s abyssal maw. “Everyone else, stay back!” he ordered, as though he were directing troops. “I will go into the Labyrinth and kill the Minotaur. Stay here, and you will be safe.” He suddenly turned to me. “What have you brought to help me?”
I held out a humble ball of yarn. “This.”
He took it from my hand and raised an eyebrow at it, looking as though he might throw it into the dark. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Daedalus gave it to me when I first started exploring the Labyrinth.”
“Daedalus? I’ve heard of Daedalus. He is supposed to be the most brilliant architect in the world, right?”
“He built this Labyrinth, and he gave me the yarn. All you have to do is tie the end here and carry it through the maze. Then you can follow it back out.”
Theseus looked impressed. “He must be a genius to have thought of something like that!”
He may have been a genius, but I was still intelligent enough to figure it out on my own. All Daedalus had done was hand me the ball of yarn, and I immediately understood what I was meant to do with it. But I didn’t bother correcting Theseus. “Do you have a weapon?”
“No,” said Theseus. “I’m not worried. I’ll kill the beast with my bare hands.”
I blinked at him, dumbfounded. I suppose if anyone could do it, he could; he was almost as musclebound as the bull-man. But still. Only an extremely impressive hero with divine lineage could hope to kill a monster bare-handed, that or a total idiot. “You are going to die.”
“Nonsense!” He smiled. “Haven’t died yet! And I have faced many deadly trials before.”
I smiled back. “I’m sure you have, but, well, it’s your funeral.”
“Do you want this monster dead, or not?” he demanded.
“Woah, I wasn’t being serious, I…” To be asked that question point-blank was unsettling. It threw my whole dilemma into focus. But seeing the terrified faces of the other tributes huddled naked in the entrance to the Labyrinth gave me my answer. “Yes.”
“I shall go then.” He tied the yarn to the gate and strode with it into the dark. I admired his confidence, even if the odds were against him. He turned the first corner, and was gone. I stared into the darkness for a moment.
One of the girls gripped the hem of my dress. “Please,” she whispered. “Please help us, my lady. We did nothing to be here. If he dies, will you help us escape?”
I didn’t look at her. I kept staring into the Labyrinth’s depths. “I will do what I can,” I said slowly. Then I followed Theseus. I heard her gasp behind me, as if her last hope had just walked away.
I overtook Theseus quickly. He was moving slowly, blindly hitting walls and getting disoriented by the serpentine turns. He jumped when he heard me behind him, turned on his heel and braced for attack, staring me down with the intensity of a bull about to charge. Then he softened. “Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here? I don’t need your help.”
“I know this place better than you do,” I said matter-of-factly.
He huffed in response. “Get back to the entrance. The Minotaur could arrive at any moment.”
I walked ahead of him. “I know. Every time I explore the Labyrinth, I risk death.”
“Why would you explore this place?” he asked, following me. “What could it possibly offer a girl like you?”
“Peace. Solitude. Time away from my father.”
“This Labyrinth is maddening!” His growing frustration echoed off the walls. “How are you not mad? Perhaps you are mad, with the things you say.”
“I’ve never considered that I might be mad.”
“Only if you were mad would you willingly choose to be in this dark prison.”
“You willingly chose to be here.”
He had no response. We walked in silence for a while, dragging the thread behind us. It was almost impossible to see the thread in the dark. I could tell that Theseus was starting to get agitated. The twining paths of the Labyrinth must be making him feel like we were making no progress. The grim silence and high stone walls made us feel completely cut off from the outside world, like there was no world at all beyond the Labyrinth. “Do you think this is what Hades is like?” he asked. “A deep cavern, under the earth, where there is nothing to do but walk endlessly?”
I couldn’t tell whether that was a sincere philosophical question, or whether he was asking indignantly. “I don’t know. The Fields of Asphodel are supposed to be open, and full of the white flowers… Not quite like this.”
“It makes no difference to me anyway. I will assuredly go to Elysium when I die, and it is the most agreeable part of Hades.”
If Hades is exactly like this, I thought, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. There are worse things than this.
Eventually, we passed the point where I usually turned back. I had never gotten this close to the center before. And then we heard it — the unmistakable sound of hooves. Cold terror gripped me. I did not expect to feel this afraid, especially not of my own brother, but the reality of the situation sank in. We were in a Labyrinth with a flesh-eating monster, and the exit was too far away for any chance of escape. Why did I follow him? Why did I think that was a good idea?
“Our quarry is upon us! You should leave,” said Theseus sternly. “The monster eats the maidens first, so I hear.”
The instinct to run left me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Suit yourself, but you will not be able to fight against the Minotaur.”
“You will protect me, will you?” Being with him felt safe, like he was a bodyguard.
“I will.” As soon as he said that, my fear was banished, and my confidence restored.
A few more turns, and we reached the center of the Labyrinth, a place I figured I’d never enter. In the gloom, I couldn’t actually see much, but I was able to see the hulking shape of my brother with his huge bull’s head and wicked-looking horns.
“There is the beast!” A light suddenly blazed to life beside me, and I cringed away from its brightness. It was a torch.
“Did you have that the whole time?”
“I was saving it!” He handed me the torch and the end of the yarn, and I took them, nonplussed. I saw the floor of the Labyrinth’s center, full of human bones. “Wait there, I will make swift work of this!” Theseus took a fighting stance, muscles tensed.
Asterion looked at me. I felt blind panic grip me, but he did not attack me. Perhaps he recognized me. He must have been familiar with my presence and voice by now, enough to know I wasn’t a threat. I stared into his black bull eyes. They were soft, not fiery and enraged. This was my brother. “Asterion… I’m so sorry, Asterion.”
“What are you doing? Get back!”
Theseus’ yell attracted Asterion’s attention. He roared and rushed forward with his powerful legs, horns lowered and ready to gore him to death. Theseus grabbed Asterion’s horns and hurled himself up onto the Minotaur’s back, holding him in a chokehold with both arms. “I shall send you to the pit of Tartarus, fiend!” Asterion thrashed and bucked and slammed Theseus against the wall, but soon enough, it was over. Theseus had strangled the Minotaur. Asterion lay dead.
Theseus picked himself up, looking exhausted but triumphant. “Victory! No Athenians will die today, or ever! This monster will never claim another human life!” He grinned at me. “See, I told you I could do it with my bare hands!”
I stared at the mass of Asterion’s body. “I killed my brother…”
“Nonsense!” Theseus took the torch back from me. The bones crunched under his feet as he walked. “It is hardly your fault that you are the sister of a beast. We have done a good and heroic thing today. Look, look at the bones! Why are you crying, Ariadne?”
I suddenly looked at him instead of the Minotaur’s corpse. I don’t think he’d said my name before. Even in the dim torchlight, he still looked bright, with clear eyes and golden hair and bronze skin slick with sweat. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Ariadne.” He smiled at me. “Thank you. Together we have saved many lives.”
He kissed me, and the torch went out.
The following events were a blur. After we had successfully followed the thread out of the Labyrinth, Theseus triumphantly announced to my father that the Minotaur was dead, and demanded me and my sister as prizes. My father was furious — of course he was. He had essentially just lost all of his children, and all because one had died in Athens before I was old enough to remember. I, however, was elated, and so was Phaedra. Phaedra was as eager to leave Crete as I was, and she seemed just as taken with Theseus’ handsomeness. She didn’t seem distressed that Asterion was dead, and why would she? The grateful Athenians went back to their ship, many of them sobbing with relief. I didn’t look at my father as I followed Theseus to the ship. I never wanted to look at him again. We passed by Talos, and I left Knossos and the Labyrinth behind me.
Crete faded into the horizon, and before me was sunshine and new possibilities. Theseus glowed with triumph and pride, smiling at me and kissing me when he announced to the other Athenians that he would marry me, and that I would become their queen. They fell to their knees and showered me and Theseus with gratitude for having saved their lives. I felt almost as if I were a goddess. Wine flowed freely in celebration, and I took more joy in it than I had in a long time.
It did not last long. Soon after the first few hours I was, if possible, even more miserable on Theseus’ ship than I had been in Knossos. I quickly became tired of his boasts about how he had strangled the beast, without crediting me at all, or so much as mentioning the ball of yarn, even though the other Athenians had seen me give it to him and seen me follow him into the Labyrinth. Every time he told the story, it got further from the truth, and emphasized his own heroism over mine. Is this how it would be when I was queen? No matter what I did, I’d be shunted to the side? Then, Theseus seemed to be doting on Phaedra. She usually attracted more attention. She was prettier than me. She had blond hair that shined in the sunlight and the bright eyes of our mother Pasiphae, the daughter of Helios. My hair and eyes were dark, like the Labyrinth.
I left the celebration, finding a quiet spot on deck. I sat by the edge of the ship, staring out into the open waves and trying not to think about Asterion, but the image of him lying dead in the torchlight haunted me. “Are you okay, Ariadne?” Phaedra asked me. “What is wrong? We are finally out of there, all thanks to you! No more Minotaur, no more tributes having to die, no more Father… We will have a new life in Athens.” I stayed silent. “You look despondent. Something’s wrong.”
I looked up into her eyes. “It’s like you said, Phaedra. Asterion is dead.”
“Do you… mourn him?”
“He was our brother, and I killed him!”
“Theseus killed him! You did nothing!” I knew that she meant to reassure me, but it touched a raw nerve.
“He would not have if I hadn’t led him straight to the center of the Labyrinth!”
“Ariadne…” Phaedra put her hand on my shoulder. “You… you’re… you’ll be okay. You are just a little bit disoriented.” She left me alone.
I looked at the Athenians, who laughed and danced and celebrated their lives. I didn’t feel like dancing. I already missed the Labyrinth. My guilt drew my thoughts back to Knossos. I wanted to hide in the Labyrinth forever, like Asterion had, or else throw myself into the sea for my guilt. The brightness of the waves was glaring compared to the soothing darkness of the Labyrinth.
Theseus approached me from behind. He had been ignoring me until now, maybe because I was so sorrowful. I could feel that he was angry at me, and my skin crawled, but I didn’t turn. “What cause do you have to weep, Ariadne? You should be happy!” he said.
“I am sorry, Theseus. Part of me still mourns for my brother.”
“What is the matter with you? All you have done is sit and stare at the water! If you loved that Labyrinth so much, perhaps you should have stayed there! Now please, put this sorrow behind you. You have no cause for it.” He sighed, softening. “When we arrive in Athens, we shall marry, and there will be much rejoicing.”
“Leave me alone.” The bitterness in my voice rang louder than I’d intended.
He scowled at me.“You are joyless, passionless, and thankless,” he spat, and stalked off. The word useless went unsaid; I could tell he was reconsidering making me his wife.
“Theseus, wait!” I yelled, suddenly sounding desperate.
I stood up, and he turned back to look at me, and I felt as if I were naked under his gaze and that of the others on the ship, which had all quieted and turned in my direction. His eyes were cold, and his nostrils flared just as Asterion’s had. “What, Ariadne? You have shown me neither gratitude nor pleasure, you have not acted like a princess. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Shamed, I said nothing. I sat back down. Then, as he was about to turn away again, I suddenly found my voice. “Why are you being cruel?”
“I am not being cruel. You are being difficult.”
By the time we reached Naxos, I was feeling heartbroken as well as grief-stricken. Theseus was giving me the silent treatment. I think he expected me to come running to him begging for forgiveness. We stopped on the island to rest, primarily because Theseus had dreamt that he would stop here during his homecoming.
I took off my sandals and walked along the edge of the surf to clear my thoughts. The beach was bright and wide and open, the exact opposite of the Labyrinth. Even in the sand, I felt his heavy footsteps approaching behind me. “Ariadne, we need to talk.”
I continued to face away from him. “What?”
“Ariadne, I find your attitude disagreeable.”
I turned on my heel to face him, planting myself in the sand. “I’ve found your attitude disagreeable! All you have done since we left Crete is boast about your heroics, and you’ve barely given me any credit—”
“Credit! You want credit for having slain it, when all you have done is cry over the hideous thing?”
The disdain in his voice stung me like arrows. “You don’t care at all for me or my feelings, do you?”
“If you were to become my queen, I would expect better behavior from you.” He sounded like he was lecturing a child.
“Well… I don’t want to be your queen! You are almost as bad as my father!”
“Good. I have already decided to take your sister Phaedra as my bride instead.” I didn’t reply. “You may still return with us to Athens, but we will have to make other arrangements for you.”
Forget Athens. I didn’t want Theseus to do anything for me. “Oh, forgive me for having been such a disappointment to you! Go ahead, go back to Athens and marry my sister! By Zeus! I’ve had enough of you!”
And I ran. I turned away from Theseus and ran down the beach until my legs gave out, falling in the sand to sulk and wonder where it all went wrong. I regretted having ever met Theseus, or helped him to kill my brother. If I could undo it all, I would. No. Then innocent people would have died. Oh, gods, why am I so wretched?
And then, as I was just beginning to calm down, I saw that the ship was sailing away over the waves. I was stranded on the island. Despair and panic crashed down upon me. Oh gods, gods, why? Had I somehow been forgotten about, or left behind on purpose? Had Theseus doomed me to die? “CURSE you, Theseus!” I screamed at the distant ship. I watched it go until it disappeared over the horizon. I could do nothing but hopelessly stare at the wine-dark sea as the sun set.
“Excuse me, why are you crying?”
I had been sitting with my head in my arms, weeping despondently, and I was startled by the sudden voice, soft though it was. I was certain the island was deserted, but now, a young man stood before me. He was silhouetted against the sky, the sun shining behind his head like a halo. Where had he come from? I hadn’t heard him come. It was though he’d simply stepped out of the sea.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and my voice sounded cracked from crying. “I thought I was alone.”
“May I sit with you?” the man asked. “You look like you could use a drink, something to soothe you, hm?”
“Yes… yes, thank you.”
He sat down in the sand next to me, languidly stretching his legs out in front of him like he was sitting on the plushest couch. With the sunlight on him, I could see him properly — he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. He easily put Theseus to shame. His eyes were leafy green, warm and kind. He was lithe, and his skin looked as pale and smooth as a girl’s, and his lips looked so soft. I couldn’t place the color of his hair — it seemed to be dark brown, but it could have been as dark as the Styx, and when the sun caught it, it looked honey-gold. It fell over his shoulders in loose curls. He wore nothing but a fine purple cloak draped over one shoulder, a golden leopard skin around his waist, and a wreath of ivy on his head. His cheeks were flushed, and he had a bright, easy smile. He was so lovely, so breathtaking, it almost hurt to look at him. With delicate hands, he offered me a kylix brimming with wine. “Please, tell me what has made you so upset.”
I blinked at the kylix, and the leopard skin, and the ivy in his hair. “Are you… a Bacchant?” I’d heard of them. They worshipped a mad and savage god with drunken orgies in the woods, and were said to be able to rip animals or even people limb-from-limb in their frenzy. Not unlike Asterion, I suppose.
He flashed a devious smile. “Maaaaybe.”
I took the kylix and drank deeply. The wine was sweet, and somehow, I felt immediately calmer. Slowly, amid my lingering sobs, I told the story — about Asterion, and my father, and the tributes, how I’d decided to help Theseus, how we’d found our way through the Labyrinth, how Theseus had killed Asterion, how Theseus had been so heartless, and how he had apparently left me to die on a deserted island. By the time I finished talking, the kylix was empty.
“How do you feel now?” he asked me.
“Better… I think. But I’m still devastated, and… guilty. My brother’s death… it was really my fault, and I don’t know if I did the right thing or not. Do you think it’s wrong for me to grieve for my brother? I mean… he was a monster…”
“No. I don’t think it’s wrong. It is perfectly understandable that you would mourn your brother.”
“If I had let the Athenians die, I would have mourned for them, too.” I sighed.
“Yes. There must be blood; one sacrifice was traded for another, Asterion, the worthy bull. It is okay to grieve, for as long as you need to, but do not wallow in despair.”
“I tend to do that. I don’t remember the last time I was completely happy. I thought Theseus would make me happy, but… then… I wish I had my Labyrinth back! It was at least soothing down there.”
“It pains me to see people sad,” he said. He handed me the kylix again, and it was once again full of wine. I hadn’t seen him fill it. “Pleasure is a state of mind. The best way to rid yourself of sadness is to focus on things that make you happy. There is always something to take pleasure in! Like the beauty of the sunset, or the sound of the lapping waves. Or wine!”
“Not when you are abandoned to die, with no way off the island,” I said. “How did you get here, anyway? I don’t see a boat.”
“I have my ways,” he said cryptically, with that same mischievous smile. That smile and the teasing sparkle in his eyes were so adorable. His beauty is something to take pleasure in, I suddenly thought, and his company, and kindness…
I took another draught of the wine. “Why are the gods so cruel to me?” I murmured, more to myself than to him.
“The gods are not cruel to you.” He stated it with complete confidence, as though it were an undeniable fact, not as though he were trying to convince me.
“It certainly seems that way,” I replied.
“Life can often seem that way, but then, it gets better, and you will find that the gods favor you,” he said.
��Well… I suppose that must be true, if handsome strangers pop out of nowhere to comfort women.”
He beamed. “Exactly!” He took the kylix back from me, threw his head back, and drained about half of it in one gulp. “You know, I was stranded on a desert island like this one once.”
“Wait, what? You were?”
“Yes! It was a long time ago now, but I was just as pretty back then, and just as fond of wearing purple. Purple is the best color, you know.” He winked. “Anyway, so I was lying asleep on a beach and—” he took another swig of the wine, “a pirate ship rows by…”
“Are you drunk?”
“Always, darling!” That roguish grin of his was really starting to win me over. “Anyway, the pirates saw me sleeping on the beach, saw how pretty I was and saw my fine purple robes, and thought I was a prince. Well. They weren’t wrong… I technically am a prince of Thebes, on my mother’s side.” He laughed like he had just told the most hilarious joke and had another sip of the wine. The amount of wine in the kylix never seemed to get any lower.
“Does that mean… you’re a bastard?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes, yes it does! I’m such a bastard. I mean… I was born out of wedlock. And my father’s wife, oooh, she hates me.” Another sip of the wine. “Never get on her bad side if you can help it.” He pointed at me as if this was the most important information I could ever learn, and I laughed. “She can’t touch me now, but she drove me mad when I was younger. Literally. Anyway, so these pirates kidnapped me. Thought I’d make a damn cute catamite, and I certainly would, but that’s beside the point. You don’t and kidnap boys no matter how pretty they are. I tried to tell my dad that, but it didn’t go over well.” Another sip of the wine.
“You are slender, but I bet you could take Theseus in a drinking contest.”
“Oh, I could take aaaaaanyone in a drinking contest! Never lost one yet!” His face was glowing, not just with blush from the wine but also with infectious joy. I slowly forgot about my misfortunes as I listened to his story. “So they tried to tie me to the ship’s mast, but found they couldn’t do it. I only tolerate bondage on my own terms. And then…” There was suddenly a mad gleam in his green eyes. “I covered their ship in grapevines, and ivy, and flowers, and the delicious smell of wine. I can’t imagine why such delightful things frightened them so. But I thought I’d scare them more, see, because it was funny. So I turned into a lion! And they flung themselves overboard in fear!” He laughed, and his laugh sounded as musical as flutes on a clear morning, but it had a maddened edge to it. “But I pitied them, y’know?” he continued. “Just as you pity your brother. So I changed them into dolphins. So they wouldn’t drown.”
“You changed… you turned into… did… did your god give you those powers? Or… are you just… really… drunk?” But I knew. I think that intuitively, I knew the whole time.
“Easy,” he said, once again raising the bottomless kylix to his lips with that knowing smile. “I’m really drunk.”
At this, I burst out laughing, and my laugh sounded almost unfamiliar to my own ears. I felt light, carefree, replenished. And then it sank in, that I was speaking to a god. I hastily knelt, and dropped my head before him, although he was still sitting next to me. “Lord Dionysus! Son of Zeus! Lord, lord, thank you for coming to me, for talking to me, for relieving me of my pain, for freeing me from my suffering…”
“You’re welcome, Ariadne.” He lifted my face, so that I was staring up into his eyes, which were now vivid reddish-purple, the color of ripe grapes. A richly purple aura surrounded him, proclaiming his divinity. In his hand was his staff, a fennel stalk topped with a pinecone that dripped with honey, twined with ivy and purple ribbons. And he had horns, bull’s horns just like my brother’s, magnificent and deadly sharp. They curved up above his brow, as much his crown as the wreath of ivy in his hair. The imposing horns created a striking contrast with his delicate features, but they looked right, somehow. Like this was how he was supposed to look.
I didn’t know what to say. My mind had gone suddenly blank. “I’ve never known great Dionysus to have horns,” I blurted.
“Not many get to see them,” he said, his voice suddenly slow and solemn. “Ariadne, will you dance with me?”
Whatever I had expected him to say, it was not that. “Wh—what?”
“Dance with me!” He stood up and twirled off across the beach. His hair floated around his shoulders, the ribbons on his thyrsus arced through the air like the rainbow, and his expression was one of elation. He screamed in ecstasy, and it was an inhuman sound, like the crowing of some unearthly bird. At that, the air filled with cacophonous music — flutes, drums, cymbals, rattles, castanets.
A command echoed inside my head. No, not a command — a compulsion: DANCE! DANCE!
So I danced with the bull-horned god. “Dancing” barely even begins to describe what I was doing. I was filled with an overwhelming, indescribable feeling, like I didn’t fit in my own skin. Like I was about to be lifted out of my own shoulders! I moved like my body was doing everything it could to express this ineffable thing inside me that was so much bigger than me. I spun, I leapt, I ran, I stamped my feet in the sand, I moved wherever the feeling took me. It burned like fire. And Dionysus was all I could perceive. I screamed with both intense rapture and pure, genuine worship: “EUOI! EUOI! EUOI!”
I met his eyes, and there I saw all the raw ferocity of a bull or a great cat, as well as chaos and lust and debauchery and pure mania. All the forces strong enough to tear a person apart! I desperately thirsted for something I could not name. It was more than wine, more than flesh, more than blood. Dionysus took me in his arms, and kissed me on the lips. Passion overtook me.
Maybe I fainted in exhilaration, or maybe I was simply too drunk to remember. All I know was that I was eventually awakened by the sunrise and the sound of lapping waves. And Dionysus… was still there. He hadn’t disappeared into the night, he was still sleeping there in the sand, looking blissful and alluring in his sleep. His tousled curls tumbled over the sand, his soft hand was upturned beside his head, and his lips were parted invitingly. He lay on his purple cloak, and was using the leopard pelt like a blanket, though it was only carelessly draped over his waist.
“Lord… thank you for not leaving me,” I whispered.
His long eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened, once again appearing vine-green. “Mmmm… sleep well?”
“Yes.” I desperately wanted to kiss him, and the seductive look in his eyes tempted me. “May I… touch you?”
“Darling, you may touch me anywhere you like,” he purred. Ravenously, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my chest to his, and our lips met. He still tasted like wine, and I drank him in the way I would wine. We lay there for a moment, entangled in each other’s arms like grape and ivy vines, idly caressing each other’s skin and hair.
“M’lord…” I whispered, “perhaps it might be impertinent to ask, but… what am I going to do now? I can’t go home. I don’t really want to go to Athens. And I still have no way off this island.”
“Why, Ariadne,” he gave me a teasing smile. “If I may be so bold, I hoped you would join me! In fact… I hope you might marry me.”
I was so taken aback by this that I immediately sat up. “You… you’re serious? Marry you?” I knew that gods frequently took mortal lovers, but this was unimaginable. “Actually marry you?”
“Yes, Ariadne. I love you.” He said it with the same sweetness and sincerity that he initially approached me with. Theseus had said no such thing. “You are not destined to become queen of Athens, but perhaps you might be my queen, if you are willing.”
I burst into tears, but they weren’t tears of sadness this time. They were tears of overwhelm, the same kind of overflowing sensation that I’d felt while dancing. “You love me?”
“I am absolutely besotted, my darling! I have had many lovers, but I had not fallen so madly in love since Ampelos, my first love, my darling vine.” A grapevine appeared between his fingers and twined up his arm. “Perhaps something in me is inclined towards mortals over gods, which is understandable, given my parentage. But, that should be no problem. I will bring you to Olympus, and love you for all of time.”
“How… why me?” I sputtered. “What have I done to deserve this?”
“Ariadne, you are letting your human mind interfere, and convince you that you are not worthy to be in my presence. Did you feel unworthy last night, while we were dancing?”
“No… I felt… there was no such thing.”
“Ariadne, do you love me?”
I struggled to find any word that could properly describe how I felt about him. “You are… utterly intoxicating.”
He giggled like a shy maiden. “I get that a lot. And, if you could be worthy of having me as a husband, would you have me?”
Yes. My body and soul ached and burned with wanting. And he made me extraordinarily happy! I’d never dared to believe a god would love me enough to marry me, but that disbelief was only getting in my way.
He looked me dead in the eyes. I nearly flinched away from the intensity of his gaze, and the shimmering madness behind it. “You are more than you realize, Ariadne, guide in the dark, guardian of the gates of initiation. You are intelligent and witty and brave, and you fear no darkness or madness or savagery, do you? You faced them all in the Labyrinth. You would make an excellent addition to my thiasus, even if you decide not to marry me. Ariadne, the most holy and pure, Lady of the Labyrinth.” His words reverberated deep in the labyrinthine pathways of my own mind and soul, like he had revealed an ancient truth that I had known once, but forgotten.
“The Labyrinth is a holy place, of contemplation and transformation. Isn’t it? Not of death.”
He smiled that gorgeous, winning smile again. “Yes! You understand! And even where there is death, it is not absolute.” His eyes shone with feverish excitement. “Oh, I have so much to teach you!”
“Lord Dionysus, I would be honored beyond imagining if I were to become your wife.”
“So is that a yes? You will marry me?”
Something about him felt right in a way that I could not put words to, like the Fates had done all they could to bring me to this moment. This god loved me, more than the other gods love their conquests, more than I could comprehend. “Yes! I will marry you!”
At that, a cool wind blew across the island, swirling his dark hair around his face and making all the vegetation appear to shimmer. It was like the island itself was affirming my decision. “Then, Ariadne, we shall rule the revel together! In honor of our engagement…” A magnificent diadem appeared in his hands, sparkling with seven gemstones like stars. He placed it on my head, and gave me a warm kiss on my lips. “Ariadne, my bride, may you never thirst. May your lusts never go unsatisfied. May your heart always be light and joyful.”
“Thank you. Thank you, m’lord!”
“You can stop calling me that. If we are to be married, you can simply call me by my name. Or, call me what pleases you. Now, come with me!” He stood, offering me his hand. “Unless you would rather spend some more alone time together, I should finally take you off this island! I will take you home to Nysa, or perhaps to Arcadia, and we will have to throw the most spectacular bacchanal in celebration of our marriage!”
“How will we travel?”
He led me down the beach like a child eager to show something to their parent, and gestured toward a golden chariot drawn by two gigantic panthers. The chariot itself was decorated in images of swirling grapevines and serpents and satyrs making love, and the cats’ pelts gleamed. “Oh, gods… I mean… wow. Does it move over water?”
“It flies, silly!” He stood inside it and beckoned to me. “These cats can run on the wind. Hermes gave them to me.”
I climbed into the chariot and held on for dear life as the panthers bounded into the air with great strides. Soon the chariot was blazing through the bright air, and Naxos was far behind us. Dionysus laughed into the wind, which blew his long hair back from his face. As radiant as he was, I was more than a little terrified of speeding through the air high above the sea in a chariot, and felt like I would fall off at any second, although not even my diadem was dislodged from my head.
“You look terror-stricken, Ariadne. Would you like me to tell you another amusing story? That seems to have cheered you up the last time!”
“That depends on whether you can drive a chariot and get incredibly drunk at the same time.”
He laughed uproariously. “Oh, I love you so much! I can do anything and get incredibly drunk, if you were wondering. So, anyway, the story… Mortals have mixed opinions of me. Most love my parties and stories and love my wine, but they seem a bit put off by the madness and violence and lust it brings out in them… Not sure why, it’s not as though all of that wasn’t there to begin with… Mortal kings do not like this, and some of them can be quite unkind to my worshippers, testing the limits of my mercy… but one of them allowed my mentor, Silenus, to sleep in his garden. So kind of him! So of course I offered him any reward he might wish for, and… he wished that everything he touched would turn to gold.”
“Ooh. Let me guess, it backfired?”
“Oh, did it backfire! His food turned to gold and he nearly starved, and even his daughter turned to gold! Hardly my fault, of course. I promised to give him what he asked for, and I did, he just happened to be an idiot. He had the chance to wish for anything in the world, and he chose something as shallow and pointless as gold. Not to mention, he clearly had never heard of inflation, which makes me worry about his kingdom’s economy. Oh, well. He learned, and I changed everything back. I always let humans indulge themselves, but I am not a god of excess. Either they are satisfied by their pleasures, or they learn their lesson fast. The moral of the story: Know your tolerance. Also, if you want to turn things to gold, you have to do it the hard way. Hermes and I were just discussing how to turn lead to gold, in fact…”
His soothing voice and hilarious tales put me at ease, until we were traveling over beautiful mountains and verdant valleys. I had never seen mainland Greece, but the view of it from the flying chariot was incredible. I was no longer afraid of falling. As we flew, I felt as if the wind stripped me of the cares and sorrows of my former life. Dionysus had set me free. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me as the chariot descended into the lush, hidden valley where a throng of Maenads and satyrs waited to welcome home their lord and his queen.
Dionysus helped me out of the chariot, and I stood before the thiasus, their maddened eyes all turned upon me. “I am the bride of Dionysus,” I proclaimed. “I am Ariadne of the Labyrinth.”
112 notes · View notes
dionysia-ta-astika · 3 years
Text
The Lady of the Labyrinth
For Dionysus.
Everything was lost. My brother was dead. My love was gone.
I was also stranded on a deserted island. I stared out at the vast, empty expanse of the sea. The sunlight on the waves winked at me with a thousand eyes, as though diamonds had been scattered across the surface of the water. Anyone would find this beach tranquil, I suppose, if they were here under different circumstances than mine.
My brother’s name was Asterion.
Most people didn’t know his name, or even that he had one. To most people, he was the Minotaur, a horrible monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull that eats people. Asterion was a monster, and he did eat people.
Beneath my father’s shining palace, he prowled the twists and turns of the Labyrinth that my father’s genius architect built. The Labyrinth was mine, once. Daedalus made it for me as a dancing path, when I was a little girl. But now it is a dark, disorienting maze of seemingly endless passageways, and I was still the only person who knew how to navigate it. When I could have time alone, I would go to the Labyrinth. I felt my way through its pitch-black corridors, memorizing the nicks and cracks in the rough stone, trying to calm my thoughts. I spoke to Asterion through the walls: “You have never seen the sun,” I said to him. “Do you ever wonder what it’s like in the outside world? Or do you like it down here?” I received no answer from the surrounding darkness. If I did hear something — a snort, or hooves on stone, I would have to run as fast as I could away from the sound. Even I couldn’t go too near Asterion — I wouldn’t want to run the risk that he might attack me.
 “Why do you go down there?” My sister, Phaedra, asked me. “What could possibly be appealing about that dark, dismal place?”
“I like it down there,” I said, trying to sound as matter-of-fact as I could. “It is peaceful. And I don’t mind the dark.”
She looked at me like I had suddenly sprouted bull’s horns myself. “You know you risk your life every time you enter the Labyrinth, right?”
“He’s our brother,” I said. I don’t know what I intended to explain by saying that. I felt like I had a responsibility to him that extended beyond simply being his sister. I tried to see a man in him, although he sniffed and bellowed and charged like a bull. He could gore me to death like a bull, but I did not fear him. “I can’t say I love him, but I feel something.”
“You shouldn’t feel any sympathy for him. He’s a freak of nature. The gods cursed us with him for our father’s arrogance. He is a shame upon our kingdom.”
She was right, of course. The gods gifted us a beautiful white bull that we were meant to sacrifice to Poseidon, but my father decided to keep it instead. And Poseidon cursed us… Asterion is the unholy offspring of my mother and the bull. And it gets worse. Every seven years, seven young men and seven young women from the city of Athens were brought to the Labyrinth to be fed to my brother. This was because my other brother, whom I was too young to remember, died while in Athens. Athens pays for this slight with the lives of other young people.
I suppose it’s no different than war, or at least, that’s what my father says. All cities send their youths to die for the polis. How was this any different? I could hardly bear the prisoners’ wails of desperation or their pleas for me to help them. When I heard they were coming, I begged my father to set them free, asserting that it was wrong to sacrifice humans to anything. If the gods had cast Tantalus into Tartarus for feeding them his son, then why should we knowingly feed humans to a monster? He laughed at me and asked why I had no pride in my family.  
I hated the thought of the fourteen young people being fed to him, but I also couldn’t imagine killing my own brother, even if he was a monster.
I was too young to remember the last time the prisoners came to the Labyrinth. They had come, and my brother had gorged himself on their flesh, and I was none the wiser. This time, I knew, and the horror of it struck me silent as the tributes were paraded through the city like animal sacrifices to the gods, so that we could all see those who were doomed to die. I could hardly bear to look at them. Some of those girls were barely older than me. It felt wrong to sit by and watch as they were brought to the Labyrinth. But what could I do to save their lives? Supplicating my father would not work, and the only other option was helping them to escape, somehow. How could I do that?
In spite of myself, I caught sight of one of the young men. He was handsome, and he had a defiant, blazing look in his eye. He looked straight at my father on his throne. “I am Theseus of Athens!” he declared. “I have come to slay your monstrous son!”
My father had laughed at him, but he consumed my thoughts. That may be because he was absolutely gorgeous, but it was also because if he succeeded at killing Asterion, he would solve all my problems. I wouldn’t have to take my own brother’s life, but he would devour no more innocent lives. And, if this youth survived, he might take me away with him. I knew the Labyrinth better than anyone. Even if he did survive, he could never make it in and out without my help.
Forgive me, Asterion.
The prisoners were held in two dank cells near the entrance to the Labyrinth.  The women were kept in one, and the men were kept in the other. Many of the prisoners were crying — not just the women, but the men, too. In my familiarity with the Labyrinth and its inhabitant, I had forgotten just how terrifying both would be to anyone else. The Labyrinth’s darkness and maddening complexity would intimidate anyone, and the prospect of being eaten by a monster within its depths was horrific.
Only Theseus seemed calm. His boldness in front of my father hadn’t been an act. His jaw was set, and he still had raw determination in his steely eyes. He was really going to do it, wasn’t he? He actually meant to kill Asterion. He shone like gold in the gloom of the dungeon — he could have been Apollo. If our circumstances were different, I might have wanted to stroke his chest. “Who are you?” he demanded when I approached the cell, as though I were the one behind bars, and had requested an audience with him.
“I am Ariadne,” I said, “daughter of Minos, princess of Crete.”
“I am Theseus, son of Aegeus, prince of Athens,” he returned.
Prince of Athens. That explained his noble bearing and proud mien, not to mention his handsome features… and yet… “There is no way the King of Athens would have sent his own son to be fed to the Minotaur,” I said. “Why are you really here?”
“I said, didn’t I? I’m here to slay the Minotaur. I volunteered as tribute.” He smirked. “I promised my father that I would return alive. No more of our people will be sacrificed to the monster!”
“You speak with a lot of confidence for someone who is currently in a prison cell,” I said. “What are you going to do, Theseus? Do you have a plan?”
“Of course I have a plan!” he said, a little defensively. “I am going to break out of this cell. And then I will conquer the Labyrinth—”
“How? You’ll be dead of starvation before you even reach the Minotaur, assuming he doesn’t find you first.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you taunting me?”
I leaned forward, looking directly into his eyes. “No. I was actually going to offer to help you. I know the Labyrinth. I go into it all the time.”
“No, you don’t. You’re trying to get me to sleep with you. Or trying to deceive me on behalf of Minos.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but couldn’t find anything to say in response to that. For a moment I just stared at him. Was he always this self-assured, even in the worst of circumstances? If he wanted to sleep with me, I certainly wouldn’t complain, but why would he assume that I would deceive him? Well, perhaps it was his right to be suspicious, in a strange land where he was kept as a prisoner. “I… no,” I finally replied. “I’m being serious. I’m here to help you.”
“Why, then?”
“I think it is very noble of you to want to save the other Athenians, and I agree that no more innocent lives should be lost.”
He smiled slightly, but still looked suspicious. “You have no loyalty to your father?”
“My father is cruel and selfish. Why else do you think my mother gave birth to a monster, anyway?”
“The monster is your brother? What was his father, a bull?”
“Yes.”
That seemed to have stunned him into silence. I felt some satisfaction at that. “Listen to me. Without my help, you will not get through the Labyrinth. If you want to kill the Minotaur, you need me.”
“What’s the catch?” he asked. “You’re going to want something in return, aren’t you? What?”
“Take me off this accursed rock,” I said. “I am sick of Crete, I’m sick of my father, and I don’t want to have to put up with whatever punishment he might give me for helping you.”
“Well, you are a princess, and I suppose you would make a fine bride for me.”
My heart leapt at those words, and I felt myself blushing. Perhaps I should have known better. “Really? You would marry me?”
“If you help me to slay the Minotaur, then yes, I will marry you.”
“Deal.”
Theseus remained in my thoughts from that point onward. When I closed my eyes, I saw his face, and I imagined the feel of his skin. I’d never seen a man like him before, and oh, if I married him… would I be happy? Happier than I was here, at least? He seemed like the kind of man that Phaedra and I dreamed we would marry as young girls — strong, brave, handsome, and willing to put himself on the line for the sake of his people. All such admirable qualities.
I returned to Theseus when the prisoners were locked into the Labyrinth’s abyssal maw. “Everyone else, stay back!” he ordered, as though he were directing troops. “I will go into the Labyrinth and kill the Minotaur. Stay here, and you will be safe.” He suddenly turned to me. “What have you brought to help me?”
I held out a humble ball of yarn. “This.”
He took it from my hand and raised an eyebrow at it, looking as though he might throw it into the dark. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Daedalus gave it to me when I first started exploring the Labyrinth.”
“Daedalus? I’ve heard of Daedalus. He is supposed to be the most brilliant architect in the world, right?”
“He built this Labyrinth, and he gave me the yarn. All you have to do is tie the end here and carry it through the maze. Then you can follow it back out.”
Theseus looked impressed. “He must be a genius to have thought of something like that!”
He may have been a genius, but I was still intelligent enough to figure it out on my own. All Daedalus had done was hand me the ball of yarn, and I immediately understood what I was meant to do with it. But I didn’t bother correcting Theseus. “Do you have a weapon?”
“No,” said Theseus. “I’m not worried. I’ll kill the beast with my bare hands.”
I blinked at him, dumbfounded. I suppose if anyone could do it, he could; he was almost as musclebound as the bull-man. But still. Only an extremely impressive hero with divine lineage could hope to kill a monster bare-handed, that or a total idiot. “You are going to die.”
“Nonsense!” He smiled. “Haven’t died yet! And I have faced many deadly trials before.”
I smiled back. “I’m sure you have, but, well, it’s your funeral.”
“Do you want this monster dead, or not?” he demanded.
“Woah, I wasn’t being serious, I…” To be asked that question point-blank was unsettling. It threw my whole dilemma into focus. But seeing the terrified faces of the other tributes huddled naked in the entrance to the Labyrinth gave me my answer. “Yes.”
“I shall go then.” He tied the yarn to the gate and strode with it into the dark. I admired his confidence, even if the odds were against him. He turned the first corner, and was gone. I stared into the darkness for a moment.
One of the girls gripped the hem of my dress. “Please,” she whispered. “Please help us, my lady. We did nothing to be here. If he dies, will you help us escape?”
 I didn’t look at her. I kept staring into the Labyrinth’s depths. “I will do what I can,” I said slowly. Then I followed Theseus. I heard her gasp behind me, as if her last hope had just walked away.
I overtook Theseus quickly. He was moving slowly, blindly hitting walls and getting disoriented by the serpentine turns. He jumped when he heard me behind him, turned on his heel and braced for attack, staring me down with the intensity of a bull about to charge. Then he softened. “Oh. It’s you. What are you doing here? I don’t need your help.”
“I know this place better than you do,” I said matter-of-factly.
He huffed in response. “Get back to the entrance. The Minotaur could arrive at any moment.”
I walked ahead of him. “I know. Every time I explore the Labyrinth, I risk death.”
“Why would you explore this place?” he asked, following me. “What could it possibly offer a girl like you?”
“Peace. Solitude. Time away from my father.”
“This Labyrinth is maddening!” His growing frustration echoed off the walls. “How are you not mad? Perhaps you are mad, with the things you say.”
“I’ve never considered that I might be mad.”
“Only if you were mad would you willingly choose to be in this dark prison.”
“You willingly chose to be here.”
He had no response. We walked in silence for a while, dragging the thread behind us. It was almost impossible to see the thread in the dark. I could tell that Theseus was starting to get agitated. The twining paths of the Labyrinth must be making him feel like we were making no progress. The grim silence and high stone walls made us feel completely cut off from the outside world, like there was no world at all beyond the Labyrinth. “Do you think this is what Hades is like?” he asked. “A deep cavern, under the earth, where there is nothing to do but walk endlessly?”
I couldn’t tell whether that was a sincere philosophical question, or whether he was asking indignantly. “I don’t know. The Fields of Asphodel are supposed to be open, and full of the white flowers… Not quite like this.”
“It makes no difference to me anyway. I will assuredly go to Elysium when I die, and it is the most agreeable part of Hades.”
If Hades is exactly like this, I thought, then perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. There are worse things than this.
Eventually, we passed the point where I usually turned back. I had never gotten this close to the center before. And then we heard it — the unmistakable sound of hooves. Cold terror gripped me. I did not expect to feel this afraid, especially not of my own brother, but the reality of the situation sank in. We were  in a Labyrinth with a flesh-eating monster, and the exit was too far away for any chance of escape.  Why did I follow him? Why did I think that was a good idea?
“Our quarry is upon us! You should leave,” said Theseus sternly. “The monster eats the maidens first, so I hear.”
The instinct to run left me. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Suit yourself, but you will not be able to fight against the Minotaur.”
“You will protect me, will you?” Being with him felt safe, like he was a bodyguard.
“I will.” As soon as he said that, my fear was banished, and my confidence restored.
A few more turns, and we reached the center of the Labyrinth, a place I figured I’d never enter. In the gloom, I couldn’t actually see much, but I was able to see the hulking shape of my brother with his huge bull’s head and wicked-looking horns.
“There is the beast!” A light suddenly blazed to life beside me, and I cringed away from its brightness. It was a torch.
“Did you have that the whole time?”
“I was saving it!” He handed me the torch and the end of the yarn, and I took them, nonplussed. I saw the floor of the Labyrinth’s center, full of human bones. “Wait there, I will make swift work of this!” Theseus took a fighting stance, muscles tensed.
Asterion looked at me. I felt blind panic grip me, but he did not attack me. Perhaps he recognized me. He must have been familiar with my presence and voice by now, enough to know I wasn’t a threat. I stared into his black bull eyes. They were soft, not fiery and enraged. This was my brother. “Asterion… I’m so sorry, Asterion.”
“What are you doing? Get back!”
Theseus’ yell attracted Asterion’s attention. He roared and rushed forward with his powerful legs, horns lowered and ready to gore him to death. Theseus grabbed Asterion’s horns and hurled himself up onto the Minotaur’s back, holding him in a chokehold with both arms. “I shall send you to the pit of Tartarus, fiend!”  Asterion thrashed and bucked and slammed Theseus against the wall, but soon enough, it was over. Theseus had strangled the Minotaur. Asterion lay dead.
Theseus picked himself up, looking exhausted but triumphant. “Victory! No Athenians will die today, or ever! This monster will never claim another human life!” He grinned at me. “See, I told you I could do it with my bare hands!”
I stared at the mass of Asterion’s body. “I killed my brother…”
“Nonsense!” Theseus took the torch back from me. The bones crunched under his feet as he walked. “It is hardly your fault that you are the sister of a beast. We have done a good and heroic thing today. Look, look at the bones! Why are you crying, Ariadne?”
I suddenly looked at him instead of the Minotaur’s corpse. I don’t think he’d said my name before. Even in the dim torchlight, he still looked bright, with clear eyes and golden hair and bronze skin slick with sweat. “I couldn’t have done this without you, Ariadne.” He smiled at me. “Thank you. Together we have saved many lives.”
He kissed me, and the torch went out.
The following events were a blur. After we had successfully followed the thread out of the Labyrinth, Theseus triumphantly announced to my father that the Minotaur was dead, and demanded me and my sister as prizes. My father was furious — of course he was. He had essentially just lost all of his children, and all because one had died in Athens before I was old enough to remember. I, however, was elated, and so was Phaedra. Phaedra was as eager to leave Crete as I was, and she seemed just as taken with Theseus’ handsomeness. She didn’t seem distressed that Asterion was dead, and why would she? The grateful Athenians went back to their ship, many of them sobbing with relief. I didn’t look at my father as I followed Theseus to the ship. I never wanted to look at him again. We passed by Talos, and I left Knossos and the Labyrinth behind me.
Crete faded into the horizon, and before me was sunshine and new possibilities. Theseus glowed with triumph and pride, smiling at me and kissing me when he announced to the other Athenians that he would marry me, and that I would become their queen. They fell to their knees and showered me and Theseus with gratitude for having saved their lives. I felt almost as if I were a goddess. Wine flowed freely in celebration, and I took more joy in it than I had in a long time.
It did not last long. Soon after the first few hours I was, if possible, even more miserable on Theseus’ ship than I had been in Knossos. I quickly became tired of his boasts about how he had strangled the beast, without crediting me at all, or so much as mentioning the ball of yarn, even though the other Athenians had seen me give it to him and seen me follow him into the Labyrinth. Every time he told the story, it got further from the truth, and emphasized his own heroism over mine. Is this how it would be when I was queen? No matter what I did, I’d be shunted to the side? Then, Theseus seemed to be doting on Phaedra. She usually attracted more attention. She was prettier than me. She had blond hair that shined in the sunlight and the bright eyes of our mother Pasiphae, the daughter of Helios. My hair and eyes were dark, like the Labyrinth.
I left the celebration, finding a quiet spot on deck. I sat by the edge of the ship, staring out into the open waves and trying not to think about Asterion, but the image of him lying dead in the torchlight haunted me. “Are you okay, Ariadne?” Phaedra asked me. “What is wrong? We are finally out of there, all thanks to you! No more Minotaur, no more tributes having to die, no more Father… We will have a new life in Athens.” I stayed silent. “You look despondent. Something’s wrong.”
I looked up into her eyes. “It’s like you said, Phaedra. Asterion is dead.”
“Do you… mourn him?”
“He was our brother, and I killed him!”
“Theseus killed him! You did nothing!” I knew that she meant to reassure me, but it touched a raw nerve.
“He would not have if I hadn’t led him straight to the center of the Labyrinth!”
“Ariadne…” Phaedra put her hand on my shoulder. “You… you’re… you’ll be okay. You are just a little bit disoriented.” She left me alone.
I looked at the Athenians, who laughed and danced and celebrated their lives. I didn’t feel like dancing. I already missed the Labyrinth. My guilt drew my thoughts back to Knossos. I wanted to hide in the Labyrinth forever, like Asterion had, or else throw myself into the sea for my guilt. The brightness of the waves was glaring compared to the soothing darkness of the Labyrinth.
Theseus approached me from behind. He had been ignoring me until now, maybe because I was so sorrowful. I could feel that he was angry at me, and my skin crawled, but I didn’t turn. “What cause do you have to weep, Ariadne? You should be happy!” he said.
“I am sorry, Theseus. Part of me still mourns for my brother.”
“What is the matter with you? All you have done is sit and stare at the water! If you loved that Labyrinth so much, perhaps you should have stayed there! Now please, put this sorrow behind you. You have no cause for it.” He sighed, softening. “When we arrive in Athens, we shall marry, and there will be much rejoicing.”
“Leave me alone.” The bitterness in my voice rang louder than I’d intended.
He scowled at me.“You are joyless, passionless, and thankless,” he spat, and stalked off. The word useless went unsaid; I could tell he was reconsidering making me his wife.
“Theseus, wait!” I yelled, suddenly sounding desperate.
I stood up, and he turned back to look at me, and I felt as if I were naked under his gaze and that of the others on the ship, which had all quieted and turned in my direction. His eyes were cold, and his nostrils flared just as Asterion’s had. “What, Ariadne? You have shown me neither gratitude nor pleasure, you have not acted like a princess. What do you have to say for yourself?”
Shamed, I said nothing. I sat back down. Then, as he was about to turn away again, I suddenly found my voice. “Why are you being cruel?”
“I am not being cruel. You are being difficult.”
By the time we reached Naxos, I was feeling heartbroken as well as grief-stricken. Theseus was giving me the silent treatment. I think he expected me to come running to him begging for forgiveness. We stopped on the island to rest, primarily because Theseus had dreamt that he would stop here during his homecoming.
 I took off my sandals and walked along the edge of the surf to clear my thoughts. The beach was bright and wide and open, the exact opposite of the Labyrinth. Even in the sand, I felt his heavy footsteps approaching behind me. “Ariadne, we need to talk.”
I continued to face away from him. “What?”
“Ariadne, I find your attitude disagreeable.” 
I turned on my heel to face him, planting myself in the sand. “I’ve found your attitude disagreeable! All you have done since we left Crete is boast about your heroics, and you’ve barely given me any credit—”
“Credit! You want credit for having slain it, when all you have done is cry over the hideous thing?”
The disdain in his voice stung me like arrows. “You don’t care at all for me or my feelings, do you?”
“If you were to become my queen, I would expect better behavior from you.” He sounded like he was lecturing a child.
“Well… I don’t want to be your queen! You are almost as bad as my father!”
“Good. I have already decided to take your sister Phaedra as my bride instead.” I didn’t reply. “You may still return with us to Athens, but we will have to make other arrangements for you.”
Forget Athens. I didn’t want Theseus to do anything for me. “Oh, forgive me for having been such a disappointment to you! Go ahead, go back to Athens and marry my sister! By Zeus! I’ve had enough of you!”
And I ran. I turned away from Theseus and ran down the beach until my legs gave out, falling in the sand to sulk and wonder where it all went wrong. I regretted having ever met Theseus, or helped him to kill my brother. If I could undo it all, I would. No. Then innocent people would have died. Oh, gods, why am I so wretched?
And then, as I was just beginning to calm down, I saw that the ship was sailing away over the waves. I was stranded on the island. Despair and panic crashed down upon me. Oh gods, gods, why? Had I somehow been forgotten about, or left behind on purpose? Had Theseus doomed me to die? “CURSE you, Theseus!” I screamed at the distant ship. I watched it go until it disappeared over the horizon. I could do nothing but hopelessly stare at the wine-dark sea as the sun set.
“Excuse me, why are you crying?”
I had been sitting with my head in my arms, weeping despondently, and I was startled by the sudden voice, soft though it was. I was certain the island was deserted, but now, a young man stood before me. He was silhouetted against the sky, the sun shining behind his head like a halo. Where had he come from? I hadn’t heard him come. It was though he’d simply stepped out of the sea.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and my voice sounded cracked from crying. “I thought I was alone.”
“May I sit with you?” the man asked. “You look like you could use a drink, something to soothe you, hm?”
“Yes… yes, thank you.”
He sat down in the sand next to me, languidly stretching his legs out in front of him like he was sitting on the plushest couch. With the sunlight on him, I could see him properly — he was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. He easily put Theseus to shame. His eyes were leafy green, warm and kind. He was lithe, and his skin looked as pale and smooth as a girl’s, and his lips looked so soft. I couldn’t place the color of his hair — it seemed to be dark brown, but it could have been as dark as the Styx, and when the sun caught it, it looked honey-gold. It fell over his shoulders in loose curls. He wore nothing but a fine purple cloak draped over one shoulder, a golden leopard skin around his waist, and a wreath of ivy on his head. His cheeks were flushed, and he had a bright, easy smile. He was so lovely, so breathtaking, it almost hurt to look at him. With delicate hands, he offered me a kylix brimming with wine. “Please, tell me what has made you so upset.”
I blinked at the kylix, and the leopard skin, and the ivy in his hair. “Are you… a Bacchant?” I’d heard of them. They worshipped a mad and savage god with drunken orgies in the woods, and were said to be able to rip animals or even people limb-from-limb in their frenzy. Not unlike Asterion, I suppose.
He flashed a devious smile. “Maaaaybe.”
I took the kylix and drank deeply. The wine was sweet, and somehow, I felt immediately calmer. Slowly, amid my lingering sobs, I told the story — about Asterion, and my father, and the tributes, how I’d decided to help Theseus, how we’d found our way through the Labyrinth, how Theseus had killed Asterion, how Theseus had been so heartless, and how he had apparently left me to die on a deserted island. By the time I finished talking, the kylix was empty.
“How do you feel now?” he asked me.
“Better… I think. But I’m still devastated, and… guilty. My brother’s death… it was really my fault, and I don’t know if I did the right thing or not. Do you think it’s wrong for me to grieve for my brother? I mean… he was a monster…”
“No. I don’t think it’s wrong. It is perfectly understandable that you would mourn your brother.”
“If I had let the Athenians die, I would have mourned for them, too.” I sighed.
“Yes. There must be blood; one sacrifice was traded for another, Asterion, the worthy bull. It is okay to grieve, for as long as you need to, but do not wallow in despair.”
“I tend to do that. I don’t remember the last time I was completely happy. I thought Theseus would make me happy, but… then… I wish I had my Labyrinth back! It was at least soothing down there.”
“It pains me to see people sad,” he said. He handed me the kylix again, and it was once again full of wine. I hadn’t seen him fill it. “Pleasure is a state of mind. The best way to rid yourself of sadness is to focus on things that make you happy. There is always something to take pleasure in! Like the beauty of the sunset, or the sound of the lapping waves. Or wine!”
“Not when you are abandoned to die, with no way off the island,” I said. “How did you get here, anyway? I don’t see a boat.”
“I have my ways,” he said cryptically, with that same mischievous smile. That smile and the teasing sparkle in his eyes were so adorable. His beauty is something to take pleasure in, I suddenly thought, and his company, and kindness…
I took another draught of the wine. “Why are the gods so cruel to me?” I murmured, more to myself than to him.
“The gods are not cruel to you.” He stated it with complete confidence, as though it were an undeniable fact, not as though he were trying to convince me.
“It certainly seems that way,” I replied.
“Life can often seem that way, but then, it gets better, and you will find that the gods favor you,” he said.
“Well… I suppose that must be true, if handsome strangers pop out of nowhere to comfort women.”
He beamed. “Exactly!” He took the kylix back from me, threw his head back, and drained about half of it in one gulp. “You know, I was stranded on a desert island like this one once.”
“Wait, what? You were?”
“Yes! It was a long time ago now, but I was just as pretty back then, and just as fond of wearing purple. Purple is the best color, you know.” He winked. “Anyway, so I was lying asleep on a beach and—” he took another swig of the wine, “a pirate ship rows by…”
“Are you drunk?”
“Always, darling!” That roguish grin of his was really starting to win me over. “Anyway, the pirates saw me sleeping on the beach, saw how pretty I was and saw my fine purple robes, and thought I was a prince. Well. They weren’t wrong… I technically am a prince of Thebes, on my mother’s side.” He laughed like he had just told the most hilarious joke and had another sip of the wine. The amount of wine in the kylix never seemed to get any lower.
“Does that mean… you’re a bastard?” I asked hesitantly.
“Yes, yes it does! I’m such a bastard. I mean… I was born out of wedlock. And my father’s wife, oooh, she hates me.” Another sip of the wine. “Never get on her bad side if you can help it.” He pointed at me as if this was the most important information I could ever learn, and I laughed. “She can’t touch me now, but she drove me mad when I was younger. Literally. Anyway, so these pirates kidnapped me. Thought I’d make a damn cute catamite, and I certainly would, but that’s beside the point. You don’t and kidnap boys no matter how pretty they are. I tried to tell my dad that, but it didn’t go over well.” Another sip of the wine.
“You are slender, but I bet you could take Theseus in a drinking contest.”
“Oh, I could take aaaaaanyone in a drinking contest! Never lost one yet!” His face was glowing, not just with blush from the wine but also with infectious joy. I slowly forgot about my misfortunes as I listened to his story. “So they tried to tie me to the ship’s mast, but found they couldn’t do it. I only tolerate bondage on my own terms. And then…” There was suddenly a mad gleam in his green eyes. “I covered their ship in grapevines, and ivy, and flowers, and the delicious smell of wine. I can’t imagine why such delightful things frightened them so. But I thought I’d scare them more, see, because it was funny. So I turned into a lion! And they flung themselves overboard in fear!” He laughed, and his laugh sounded as musical as flutes on a clear morning, but it had a maddened edge to it. “But I pitied them, y’know?” he continued. “Just as you pity your brother. So I changed them into dolphins. So they wouldn’t drown.”
“You changed… you turned into… did… did your god give you those powers? Or… are you just… really… drunk?” But I knew. I think that intuitively, I knew the whole time.
“Easy,” he said, once again raising the bottomless kylix to his lips with that knowing smile. “I’m really drunk.”
At this, I burst out laughing, and my laugh sounded almost unfamiliar to my own ears. I felt light, carefree, replenished. And then it sank in, that I was speaking to a god. I hastily knelt, and dropped my head before him, although he was still sitting next to me. “Lord Dionysus! Son of Zeus! Lord, lord, thank you for coming to me, for talking to me, for relieving me of my pain, for freeing me from my suffering…”
“You’re welcome, Ariadne.” He lifted my face, so that I was staring up into his eyes, which were now vivid reddish-purple, the color of ripe grapes. A richly purple aura surrounded him, proclaiming his divinity. In his hand was his staff, a fennel stalk topped with a pinecone that dripped with honey, twined with ivy and purple ribbons. And he had horns, bull’s horns just like my brother’s, magnificent and deadly sharp. They curved up above his brow, as much his crown as the wreath of ivy in his hair. The imposing horns created a striking contrast with his delicate features, but they looked right, somehow. Like this was how he was supposed to look.
I didn’t know what to say. My mind had gone suddenly blank. “I’ve never known great Dionysus to have horns,” I blurted.
“Not many get to see them,” he said, his voice suddenly slow and solemn. “Ariadne, will you dance with me?”
Whatever I had expected him to say, it was not that. “Wh—what?”
“Dance with me!” He stood up and twirled off across the beach. His hair floated around his shoulders, the ribbons on his thyrsus arced through the air like the rainbow, and his expression was one of elation. He screamed in ecstasy, and it was an inhuman sound, like the crowing of some unearthly bird. At that, the air filled with cacophonous music — flutes, drums, cymbals, rattles, castanets.
A command echoed inside my head. No, not a command — a compulsion: DANCE! DANCE!
So I danced with the bull-horned god. “Dancing” barely even begins to describe what I was doing. I was filled with an overwhelming, indescribable feeling, like I didn’t fit in my own skin. Like I was about to be lifted out of my own shoulders! I moved like my body was doing everything it could to express this ineffable thing inside me that was so much bigger than me. I spun, I leapt, I ran, I stamped my feet in the sand, I moved wherever the feeling took me. It burned like fire. And Dionysus was all I could perceive. I screamed with both intense rapture and pure, genuine worship: “EUOI! EUOI! EUOI!”
I met his eyes, and there I saw all the raw ferocity of a bull or a great cat, as well as chaos and lust and debauchery and pure mania. All the forces strong enough to tear a person apart! I desperately thirsted for something I could not name. It was more than wine, more than flesh, more than blood. Dionysus took me in his arms, and kissed me on the lips. Passion overtook me.
Maybe I fainted in exhilaration, or maybe I was simply too drunk to remember. All I know was that I was eventually awakened by the sunrise and the sound of lapping waves. And Dionysus… was still there. He hadn’t disappeared into the night, he was still sleeping there in the sand, looking blissful and alluring in his sleep. His tousled curls tumbled over the sand, his soft hand was upturned beside his head, and his lips were parted invitingly. He lay on his purple cloak, and was using the leopard pelt like a blanket, though it was only carelessly draped over his waist.
“Lord… thank you for not leaving me,” I whispered.
His long eyelashes fluttered, and then his eyes opened, once again appearing vine-green. “Mmmm… sleep well?”
“Yes.” I desperately wanted to kiss him, and the seductive look in his eyes tempted me. “May I… touch you?”
“Darling, you may touch me anywhere you like,” he purred. Ravenously, I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressed my chest to his, and our lips met. He still tasted like wine, and I drank him in the way I would wine. We lay there for a moment, entangled in each other’s arms like grape and ivy vines, idly caressing each other’s skin and hair.
“M’lord…” I whispered, “perhaps it might be impertinent to ask, but… what am I going to do now? I can’t go home. I don’t really want to go to Athens. And I still have no way off this island.”
“Why, Ariadne,” he gave me a teasing smile. “If I may be so bold, I hoped you would join me! In fact… I hope you might marry me.”
I was so taken aback by this that I immediately sat up. “You… you’re serious? Marry you?” I knew that gods frequently took mortal lovers, but this was unimaginable. “Actually marry you?”
“Yes, Ariadne. I love you.” He said it with the same sweetness and sincerity that he initially approached me with. Theseus had said no such thing. “You are not destined to become queen of Athens, but perhaps you might be my queen, if you are willing.”
I burst into tears, but they weren’t tears of sadness this time. They were tears of overwhelm, the same kind of overflowing sensation that I’d felt while dancing. “You love me?”
“I am absolutely besotted, my darling! I have had many lovers, but I had not fallen so madly in love since Ampelos, my first love, my darling vine.” A grapevine appeared between his fingers and twined up his arm. “Perhaps something in me is inclined towards mortals over gods, which is understandable, given my parentage. But, that should be no problem. I will bring you to Olympus, and love you for all of time.”
“How… why me?” I sputtered. “What have I done to deserve this?”
“Ariadne, you are letting your human mind interfere, and convince you that you are not worthy to be in my presence. Did you feel unworthy last night, while we were dancing?”
“No… I felt… there was no such thing.”
“Ariadne, do you love me?”
I struggled to find any word that could properly describe how I felt about him. “You are… utterly intoxicating.”
He giggled like a shy maiden. “I get that a lot. And, if you could be worthy of having me as a husband, would you have me?”
Yes. My body and soul ached and burned with wanting. And he made me extraordinarily happy! I’d never dared to believe a god would love me enough to marry me, but that disbelief was only getting in my way.
He looked me dead in the eyes. I nearly flinched away from the intensity of his gaze, and the shimmering madness behind it. “You are more than you realize, Ariadne, guide in the dark, guardian of the gates of initiation. You are intelligent and witty and brave, and you fear no darkness or madness or savagery, do you? You faced them all in the Labyrinth. You would make an excellent addition to my thiasus, even if you decide not to marry me. Ariadne, the most holy and pure, Lady of the Labyrinth.” His words reverberated deep in the labyrinthine pathways of my own mind and soul, like he had revealed an ancient truth that I had known once, but forgotten.
“The Labyrinth is a holy place, of contemplation and transformation. Isn’t it? Not of death.”
He smiled that gorgeous, winning smile again. “Yes! You understand! And even where there is death, it is not absolute.” His eyes shone with feverish excitement. “Oh, I have so much to teach you!”
“Lord Dionysus, I would be honored beyond imagining if I were to become your wife.”
“So is that a yes? You will marry me?”
Something about him felt right in a way that I could not put words to, like the Fates had done all they could to bring me to this moment. This god loved me, more than the other gods love their conquests, more than I could comprehend. “Yes! I will marry you!”
At that, a cool wind blew across the island, swirling his dark hair around his face and making all the vegetation appear to shimmer. It was like the island itself was affirming my decision. “Then, Ariadne, we shall rule the revel together! In honor of our engagement…” A magnificent diadem appeared in his hands, sparkling with seven gemstones like stars. He placed it on my head, and gave me a warm kiss on my lips. “Ariadne, my bride, may you never thirst. May your lusts never go unsatisfied. May your heart always be light and joyful.”
“Thank you. Thank you, m’lord!”
“You can stop calling me that. If we are to be married, you can simply call me by my name. Or, call me what pleases you. Now, come with me!” He stood, offering me his hand. “Unless you would rather spend some more alone time together, I should finally take you off this island! I will take you home to Nysa, or perhaps to Arcadia, and we will have to throw the most spectacular bacchanal in celebration of our marriage!”
“How will we travel?”
He led me down the beach like a child eager to show something to their parent, and gestured toward a golden chariot drawn by two gigantic panthers. The chariot itself was decorated in images of swirling grapevines and serpents and satyrs making love, and the cats’ pelts gleamed. “Oh, gods… I mean… wow. Does it move over water?”
“It flies, silly!” He stood inside it and beckoned to me. “These cats can run on the wind. Hermes gave them to me.”
I climbed into the chariot and held on for dear life as the panthers bounded into the air with great strides. Soon the chariot was blazing through the bright air, and Naxos was far behind us. Dionysus laughed into the wind, which blew his long hair back from his face. As radiant as he was, I was more than a little terrified of speeding through the air high above the sea in a chariot, and felt like I would fall off at any second, although not even my diadem was dislodged from my head.
“You look terror-stricken, Ariadne. Would you like me to tell you another amusing story? That seems to have cheered you up the last time!”
“That depends on whether you can drive a chariot and get incredibly drunk at the same time.”
He laughed uproariously. “Oh, I love you so much! I can do anything and get incredibly drunk, if you were wondering. So, anyway, the story… Mortals have mixed opinions of me. Most love my parties and stories and love my wine, but they seem a bit put off by the madness and violence and lust it brings out in them… Not sure why, it’s not as though all of that wasn’t there to begin with… Mortal kings do not like this, and some of them can be quite unkind to my worshippers, testing the limits of my mercy… but one of them allowed my mentor, Silenus, to sleep in his garden. So kind of him! So of course I offered him any reward he might wish for, and… he wished that everything he touched would turn to gold.”
“Ooh. Let me guess, it backfired?”
“Oh, did it backfire! His food turned to gold and he nearly starved, and even his daughter turned to gold! Hardly my fault, of course. I promised to give him what he asked for, and I did, he just happened to be an idiot. He had the chance to wish for anything in the world, and he chose something as shallow and pointless as gold. Not to mention, he clearly had never heard of inflation, which makes me worry about his kingdom’s economy. Oh, well. He learned, and I changed everything back. I always let humans indulge themselves, but I am not a god of excess. Either they are satisfied by their pleasures, or they learn their lesson fast. The moral of the story: Know your tolerance. Also, if you want to turn things to gold, you have to do it the hard way. Hermes and I were just discussing how to turn lead to gold, in fact…”
His soothing voice and hilarious tales put me at ease, until we were traveling over beautiful mountains and verdant valleys. I had never seen mainland Greece, but the view of it from the flying chariot was incredible. I was no longer afraid of falling. As we flew, I felt as if the wind stripped me of the cares and sorrows of my former life. Dionysus had set me free. I smiled at him, and he smiled at me as the chariot descended into the lush, hidden valley where a throng of Maenads and satyrs waited to welcome home their lord and his queen.
Dionysus helped me out of the chariot, and I stood before the thiasus, their maddened eyes all turned upon me. “I am the bride of Dionysus,” I proclaimed. “I am Ariadne of the Labyrinth.”
122 notes · View notes
barbiegloss · 3 years
Text
Lokius Rapunzel Au??
au ? fic idea ?? (idk if this has been done before but oh well..)
where outlaw mobius breaks into the palace of asgard to steal the crown of asgard but instead gets caught by guards and whilst escaping finds himself hidden in Loki, the youngest royal child of asgard's (Prince/princess/neither whichever) bedroom.
Mobius finds this extremely interesting as Odin keeps loki hidden away and loki is not allowed to leave the palace. (Odin keeps loki hidden away so loki wont find out about their frost giant heritage and because of Odin's own secret plans of using Loki and his heritage for his own gain).
Loki promises to hide Mobius and give him the crown if Mobius helps him escape and promises to take him on an adventure across all the stars and galaxies. Mobius is enchanted by Loki and agrees because well a hot prince plus the crown equals a very happy mobius.
mobius plans on taking Loki to Jotunheim as in his mind if he starts with the most horrific place he can think of maybe Loki will change their mind about wanting to adventure the universe and give in after seeing the monstrous frost giants they've all been told stories about since childhood.
But when they manage to sneak to Jotunheim they find its not horrible as they had been told and that it and its people are actually rather beautiful and accepting. Like a frozen wonderland filled with magic and pretty stuff.
They learn about the stolen child who was taken whilst the King and Queen of the frost giant's slept. They notice how at times Loki's skin will turn shades of blue but will immediately turn back, almost as if there is something blocking it from showing. (Odin's magic). Mobius notices just how much Loki looks like the portrait of the stolen baby.
However, before they can confront this Odin has marched an army to Jotunheim in search of Loki. Mobius hides the both of them in a cave and they spend the night cuddling and sleep together (this isnt no dis nee rapunzel). The whole trip they've been flirty with each other and caring for each other. Saving each other from potential deaths and looking out for the other. Mobius understands Loki's need for mischief and having fun. He helps Loki learn how to live after being trapped in the palace all his life. They connect.
Loki wakes to Odin finding them. some of the guards are holding down mobius whilst one has a dagger pointed at him. Loki agrees to go along on the promise mobius is not harmed. Odin agrees but once he has Loki in his arms he nods to one of the guards and they kill Mobius. However, what they don't know is that Loki knew Odin had no kindness and would not spare Mobius and so the mobius that was dead was simply a glamour. (Idk why he couldn't have made himself into a glamour too, so odin would take back the glamour instead of him okay this is my au so let's just say he can only do one glamour at a time or something).
Mobius breaks into the Jotunheim palace and tells Laufey everything and they storm Asgard to go rescue Loki. It ends with Mobius rescuing Loki and them having a very hot i missed you and you're my everything type of kiss. And with Laufey killing Odin and coming into a truce with Thor as the new King of asgard where there would be no war between them as it ended with the death of Odin and Loki would be returned home.
And theres a nice little mobius and loki wedding at the end because idc if they've only known each other for a few days they're soulmates 🤡
(Idk if theres any fic already written about this sort of au but if anyone sees this and wants to write one please let me know id absolutely loveeeee to read it!!!!!)
27 notes · View notes
archonanqi · 3 years
Text
fragile as dust / 11 - dreameater
Tumblr media
🔖 [first] [prev] [next] 
a/n: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to a taglist for this story. Thank you all for the kind comments! ;-; @fishyfish-y @writingmi @just-some-stars 
 —
ch 11 | dreameater
The memories you had of the rest of the night were fragmented, incoherent — just a few rare flashes of consciousness.
You did not know how long you were stuck within the amber, but you knew fear, and darkness, and suffocation; felt the energy draining right out of you into the crystal. Though you had briefly been resigned to your fate, the thought of Zhongli suddenly had you struggling with renewed vigor. 
You wanted to see him again. You wanted to live. 
—-
For as long as you could, you tried to stay conscious. You thought about Zhongli’s eyes, how they twinkled gold under any light. About how warm his hands had been, holding yours. His hearty laugh, and how it stole your breath away each time you managed to coax it out of him. The knowing smile he wore as he told you stories and corrected the ones you were reading. His voice, rich and deep; his lips around your name— 
The mercy he had shown you, where he had been well within his rights to be cruel. The way he had taught you of a life worth living. 
—-
There was a strange, cold heat between your collarbones. Perhaps, you wondered absently, the amber was reacting with the jade in your necklace. For a moment, it seemed like it would burn a hole right through your throat, but after a while, the heat subsided.
—-
Somewhere along the line, your thoughts shifted from a steady mantra of Zhongli Zhongli Zhongli to: Rex Lapis . 
Though you were sure that the former Archon received no lack of desperate prayers, even with his apparent death, you still prayed fervently, offering contracts that you’d find some way of fulfilling: you would bring Osmanthus Wine to his statues, you would learn to use your Vision, you would learn to fight and defend Liyue from monsters—
—-
Somewhere outside the pitch darkness of the amber, you heard a loud whoosh; and even through the sap, you could feel the familiar warmth of Geo. Of Zhongli’s Geo. 
Oh.
You could barely let yourself hope, even as a brilliant golden glow shone through the thick walls of your prison. Even as the amber cracked open with a deafening groan, slowly at first, then shattering into millions of fragments. 
—-
You found yourself on your knees, savoring the damp mud against your skin and the cold air deep in your lungs. Solid arms gathered you, gently bringing you to your feet. 
You threw out your hands and wrapped them tightly around your savior, despite the hideous pain in your wrist, deeply breathing in the scent you had long since begun to know as “home”. 
“You’re safe now,” Zhongli murmured, “I’m here.” 
—-
You blinked back the relief that welled up in your eyes, a sudden bout of exhaustion and pain rendering you limp in his arms. 
“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, “I’m getting mud on your coat.”
Zhongli made a noise you had never heard him make before, sort of a laugh but not quite. “ Oh , Hansi ,” he shook his head. “My coat is the least of my worries. Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I think my hand is broken.”
“Hmm.” Zhongli gently lifted your arm, examining your swelling wrist with composure that you didn’t think 
Behind Zhongli, in the dim light, you noticed a small movement amidst the grass. Suddenly, you remembered where you were, the danger you were both in. “Watch out!” you cried, gripping his sleeve with your good hand and trying to run. Without his support, your legs immediately buckled, but Zhongli caught you before you hit the ground. “Zhongli, be careful, the Adepti— they’ll kill you—”
Zhongli exhaled lightly and to your bewilderment, showed not even the slightest hint of panic or fear on his face. With a gloved finger, he gently pushed the damp hair from your cheeks, then looked up at the mountain where you came, eyes sharp. Suddenly, you were no longer afraid. 
“ She is under my protection .” Zhongli’s voice was not loud, but even more than usual, it was resonant. Before you gave in to the heavy calm of sleep, you swore for a moment that you saw the amber ends of his hair glow the same warm hue of his eyes. “ Do keep your karst crawlers in check, Mountain Shaper .”
—-
The next time you slipped back into consciousness, you awoke to a rhythmic swaying. You blinked the sleep away from your heavy eyelids, peering up, and your heart skipped a beat. 
Zhongli was carrying you effortlessly, one of his hands under your knee and the other supporting your back. 
Your cheek was pressed firmly against his solid chest. Was it your imagination, or was his heartbeat… too slow, each resonant thump far too many seconds apart? 
It was freezing. The amber had kept you insulated, but now that you were out in the air again, your damp hair and clothes caught the bitter windchill and made you shiver. Zhongli paused in his steps.
“You’re cold,” he asked, and without waiting for a response, began shrugging off his coat. Your protests died on your lips when he gingerly draped you in it, carefully avoiding your broken wrist. The residual heat from his body offered a much welcome warmth. You inhaled deeply into the silk and hoped he did not notice.
Between the rocking of Zhongli’s footsteps, the gentle moonlight, and your newfound comfort, sleep found you quickly once more.
—-
You never thought that you’d see the woodlands outside Zhongli’s house again, yet the welcome and familiar sight greeted you the next time you opened your weary eyes. 
“Are you able to stand?” He asked. You hesitantly nodded, then crumpled immediately when he gently lowered you to the ground. 
“Actually,” you corrected, grabbing onto Zhongli to steady yourself, black spots on your vision like ink stains, “no.”
With furrowed brows, Zhongli deftly removed one of his gloves and pressed the back of his hand against your clammy forehead. “You have a fever,” he stated, “Go get changed—” The world lurched, the black spots growing bigger and Zhongli’s voice becoming distant. “Hansi? Hansi, stay awake—” 
—-
When you dredged yourself back into consciousness, you were inside the warmth of the house, sitting on the side of your bed. Zhongli was meticulously, slowly, peeling the wet silk off of your damp skin, and though you felt a brief surge of shame through your haze of torpor, there was no judgement in his gaze — only concern.
As he raised your arm to wrap a large coat around you, you realized that your wrist had been put into a splint, wrapped neatly in a small white towel. 
After Zhongli was finally satisfied with the layers upon layers of clothing he had piled upon you, he covered you with a thick blanket. You supposed that it was a cause for concern that despite everything, you were still cold, but for the moment, you were so comfortable and content that you did not mention it. 
Finally, Zhongli stepped back, and you noticed the empty space on your windowsill. Oh . “I’m so sorry,” you suddenly blurted, the horrible memory of what had happened that night suddenly rushing back. “I lost the dragon’s tooth. We were attacked by an Abyss Mage, and- and--” 
Zhongli’s thumb gingerly brushed over your lips, quieting you instantly. “As long as it protected you, it has served its purpose,” he said, as though you hadn’t just lost a priceless heirloom from his old friend. “What matters is that you are safe.” 
—-
You fell into fits of feverish sleep. 
The grotesque chittering of the Abyss Mage, the blood on Xiangling’s fingers, and the endless hungry darkness of the amber swirled about in your mind each time you closed your eyes. 
Several times, you found yourself waking up with Zhongli’s name on your lips, but each time, the chair by your bed remained empty. 
—-
You would not remember this, but: at some point of that night, you found yourself once more in the realm of cloud and dust of your dreams.
Relieved, you looked up in search of the familiar silhouette of Zhongli, to once more watch him in peace and quiet. 
Instead, you met golden, reptilian eyes, each the size of dinner plates.
A monstrous dragon was curled in a wide circle around you, the berth of which scaled larger than Zhongli’s house. Its scales were like terraced fields, each one shining its own spectrum of brilliant, iridescent gold. For a moment, you were enamored by how beautiful — how oddly familiar — the beast before you was. 
But mostly, you debated begging for your life.
Its mighty head was lowered just enough that you could see it was looking straight at you, and when it opened its mouth to speak, it revealed rows of huge, wickedly sharp fangs. They looked just like the tooth you had lost. You dropped to your knees, pressing your forehead to the ground, knowing now who stood before you. 
“She will not remember this dream ?”
The dragon’s mouth barely moved, but its deep, guttural voice seemed to shake the world itself. You raised your gaze slightly and saw, under the dragon’s head, a young man with dark hair and green-blue undertones. He was also staring at you intently, and unlike the dragon, there was disdain clear in his eyes.
“No, Rex Lapis,” he said, shortly. “Not when I’m done.” 
“How is she faring ?”
“I can’t tell until I consume it,” the young man shook his head, and vaguely, you realized they were talking about you. “But the dream is stable, and so it seems, is her mind. Rest assured that Jueyun Karst has not broken her like it does so many other mortals.” 
Rex Lapis’ body, all scales and sinew, seemed to visibly relax.
“I must apologize for placing this task upon you. But it is imperative she does not remember this when she wakes up. I fear that she is not yet ready for the truth.”
The young man exhaled in quiet resignation. “You gave me my name, and you released me from an endless darkness,” he said, and with a deft wave of his hand, donned a beastly fanged mask over his face. “At your request, I would lay down my life a thousand times over, Rex Lapis.”
“Thank you, Xiao . Do proceed.”
The dragon cast one last lidded glance at you, dipping its head as if to leave. You don’t know where within your lungs you find it in you to whisper: “ wait .”
To your absolute astonishment, Rex Lapis did, once more turning to look at you expectantly. 
Rex Lapis. Giving you the time of his day. You hadn’t cried in a very, very long time, but you thought that you might just start right then and there.
“Speak, mortal,” the young man — had Rex Lapis called him Xiao? — snapped, crossing his arms. “Don’t waste his time.” The curtness stung, but it helped snap the fuzzy panic right out of your head. 
“Your majesty,” you bowed low once more. Was that how you were meant to address an Archon? You certainly didn’t know! “Wh— why did you give me a Vision? Was it a mistake? Do you— do you want it back?” 
The words felt as stupid coming out of your mouth as they did in floating around in your head. 
You heard Xiao snort incredulously, but Rex Lapis stared at you for a moment, unblinking and as still as a rock. You had begun to wonder if “begging for your life” was still on the table, when the dragon’s massive head shook gently from side to side. 
“A mistake? ” Even in his deafening timbre, you could hear incredulity. The clouds, the dust, the ground beneath your feet seemed to sway. “ Is that why you have not told...?”
There was a brief pause. 
“My dearest Hansi, nothing I have done for you is a mistake.”
If you weren’t already on your knees, hearing your name rumbled from between his fangs would have brought you to them. It was not the first time , you realized, something deep within you rearing its head. It was not the first time you had heard that guttural voice utter your name. 
“Rex Lapis, if I may be so bold as to ask,” Xiao asked, “just what is this mortal to you?”
It was not the first time you had met Xiao, either.
“She is under my protection” , the dragon responded shortly. “ As I once was under hers.”
Under his… protection?
All at once, you realized whom the dragon’s golden, iridescent gaze reminded you of. Your lips formed around his name, just as Xiao stepped forward and raised one clawed hand.
—- 
You woke up to the soft morning light, your head once more feeling like it had been stuffed full of cotton. Though you didn’t know how it was possible, you felt hot and cold at the same time. 
Wondering how many days had passed, you sat up slowly, but even that small motion made you retch. 
You’d had a dream. You didn’t remember what it was, but it was vitally important— that much you knew. Thinking about it too much made your head hurt. Giving up for the moment, you reached out for where your cup usually was; yet your fingers wrapped around something smooth and cold. 
On your bedside table, next to a cup of steaming tea, sat the dragon’s tooth — the only indication that it had ever left the house: a charred ring where it had met the Abyss Mage’s fiery shield. 
99 notes · View notes
nitewrighter · 3 years
Note
Blackwatch Genji having nightmares and going to Mercys Lab at like 2am to talk to her
Mercy: *typing as the door opens behind her* ...did you hear the one about the night owl?
Genji: I’m going to go out on a limb and say... ‘it was a hoot?’
Mercy: *snorts*
Genji: Ah, so you’re at the ‘terrible jokes’ stage of sleep deprivation.
Mercy: *scoff* You’re just jealous because I’m hilarious.
Genji: Uh huh.
Mercy: *typing*
Genji: ...
Genji: So... Professor Visser still not taking the hint about your issues with his ��Mass dosing models’ of biotic distributors?
Mercy: *huff* It’s not that i don’t see the use for such technology, but I feel like the negative applications of it far outweigh the positive. And of course there’s the whole issue of consent....
Genji: Maybe if there was a cataclysmic event---
Mercy: And there have been cataclysmic events but biotic treatment on that scale is simply not ethically feasible!
Genji: I know I’ve brought this up before... but...
Mercy: Please don’t say, ‘I could kill him’ it’s not as funny as you think it is. 
Genji: Well maybe not kill--But blackmail? You’d be surprised at how good ninjas are at blackmail....
Mercy: *snort* So you’re at the ‘Genji, that is illegal and bad’ stage of sleep deprivation....
Genji: ...perhaps...
Mercy: What was it this time?
Genji: Angela--
Mercy: It happened again, didn’t it?
Genji: It... it wasn’t as bad this time. 
Mercy: Genji...
Genji: We don’t have to talk about this...
Mercy: *stops typing and turns around in her chair* 
Genji: ...
Genji: *sighs*...it was the first time. But not my first time. Hanzo’s. I just... the way the fear went out of his eyes...the focus... even when all that red... spurted all over him like that.
Mercy: ....
Genji: I remember spending two years wishing I could be like that... when it happened with me, it should have been clean, it should have been quick but I--I screwed it up. It was horrible. For everyone. And I was an embarrassment. *huff* And I’ve been over all this before and--and I know it only makes me seem monstrous to think I should have done better with something like that--
Mercy: Genji.... I would never think that about you. 
Genji: ...but I think that about me. And... and this stupid brain just loves plunging me into it over and over again.
Mercy: I think... the fact that... it still... haunts you like this... I think that says a lot more about the person you’re trying to be, than the person they tried to make you into.
Genji: ...
Genji: ...wow... that’s... that’s um...
Genji: Did... did you have that prepped? Are we at that stage in ‘Genji keeps getting fucked up by nightmares about his family?”
Mercy: I mean.. I wouldn’t say I had it prepped but.. I... I mean I do think about it--about you--a lot.
--Long, awkward, “Oh fuck that got a lot more emotionally vulnerable than either of us really prepared for” pause---
Mercy: *clears throat* You know, we’re both very sleep deprived.
Genji: Right. Yes--Sleep. I um--Yes. Thank you, Doctor Ziegler. 
Mercy: Any time.
87 notes · View notes
noemibalbii · 3 years
Text
Six of Crows duology quotes
“Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you’ll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won’t matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.”
“Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?” “Knife to the throat?” asked Inej. “Gun to the back?” said Jesper. “Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina. “You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.
“No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for ‘good luck’.”
“The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.”
“When someone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.”
“She’d laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.”
“He needed to tell her… what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn’t pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without meaning to, he’d begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. He needed to thank her for his new hat.”
“I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath.”
“Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?”
“What do you want then?” The old answers came easily to mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie’s voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome, You, Inej, you.
“Greed is your god, Kaz.” He almost laughed at that. “No, Inej. Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever.”
“The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it where you want it to go.”
“Better terrible truths than kind lies.”
“You’ll get what’s coming to you some day, Brekker.” “I will,” said Kaz, “if there’s any justice in the world. And we all know how likely that is.”
“You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.” “There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance.”
“Stay,” he said, his voice rough stone. “Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me.” She looked down at his gloved hand clutching hers. Everything in her wanted to say yes, but she would not settle for so little, not after all she’d been through. “What would be the point?” He took a breath. “I want you to stay, I want you to… I want you.” “You want me.” She turned the words over. Gently, she squeezed his hand. “And how will you have me, Kaz?” He looked at her then, eyes fierce, mouth set, It was the face he wore when he was fighting. “How will you have me?” she repeated. “Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch?” He released her hand, his shoulders bunching, his gaze angry and ashamed as he turned his face to the sea. Maybe it was because his back was to her that she could finally speak the words. “I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.”
“Some people see a magic trick and say, “Impossible!” They clap their hands, turn over their money, and forget about it ten minutes later. Other people ask how it worked. They go home, get into bed, toss and turn, wondering how it was done. It takes them a good night’s sleep to forget all about it. And then there are the ones who stay awake, running through the trick again and again, looking for that skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind.”
“He’d broken his leg dropping down from the rooftop. The bone didn’t set right, and he’d limped ever after. So he’d found himself a Fabrikator and had his cane made. It became a declaration. There was no part of him that was not broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.”
“Do you have a different name for killing when you wear a uniform to do it?”
“Facts are for the unimaginative.”
“When we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm.” “I’m going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me.” “Why don’t you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That’s what the big players do.”
“How do you get your information, Mister Brekker?” “You might say I’m a lockpick.” “You must be a very gifted one.” “I am indeed.” Kaz leaned back slightly. “You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those who take the brute’s way, but I prefer a gentler approach - the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It’s a delicate thing.” “Do you always speak in metaphors, Mister Brekker?” Kaz smiled. “It’s not a metaphor.” He was out of his chair before his chains hit the ground.”
“A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he’ll keep to any deal you strike with him.”
“You couldn’t train a falcon, then expect it not to hunt.”
“The life you live, the hate you feel - it’s poison. I can drink it no longer.”
Jesper: “If Pekka Rollins kills us all, I’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.” Kaz: “I’ll just hire Matthias’s ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.” Matthias: “My ghost won’t associate with your ghost.”
“But all he could think of was Inej. She had to live. She had to have made it out of the Ice Court. And if she hadn’t, then he had to live to rescue her.”
“He was going to break my legs,” she said, her chin held high, the barest quaver in her voice. “Would you have come for me then, Kaz? When i couldn’t scale a wall or walk a tightrope? When I wasn’t the Wraith anymore?” Dirtyhands would not. The boy who could get them through this, get their money, keep them alive, would do her the courtesy of putting her out of her out of her misery, then cut his losses and move on. “I would have come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together - knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.”
“Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.”
“Maybe there were people who lived those lives. Maybe this girl was one of them. But what about the rest of us? What about the nobodies and the nothings, the invisible girls? We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to write magic from the ordinary. That was how you survived when you weren’t chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.”
“Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don’t forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.”
“Has anyone noticed this whole city is looking for us, mad at us, or want to kill us?” “So?” said Kaz. “Well, usually it’s just half the city.”
“She smiled then, her cheeks red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again.”
“No mourners. No funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.”
“Have any of you wondered what I did with all the cash Pekka Rollins gave us?” “Guns?” asked Jesper. “Ships?” queried Inej. “Bombs?” suggested Wylan. “Political bribes?” offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. “This is where you tell us how awful we are,” she whispered.
“We meet fear. We greet the unexpected visitor and listen to what he has to tell us. When fear arrives, something is about to happen.”
“You don’t look like a monster.” “I’ll tell you a secret, Hannah. The really bad monsters never look like monsters.”
Until this moment, Wylan hadn’t quite understood how much they meant to him. His father would have sneered at these thugs and thieves. a disgraced soldier, a gambler who couldn’t keep out of the red. But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he’d had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.”
“They were twin souls, soldiers destined to fight for different sides, to find each other and lose each other too quickly. She would not keep him here. Not like this.”
“At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone. “Not one for goodbyes, is he?” he muttered. “He doesn’t say goodbye,” Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. “He just lets go.”
“I’ve been nothing but kind to you. I’m not some sort of a monster.” “No, you’re the man who sits idly by, congratulating yourself on your decency, while the monster eats his fill. At least a monster has teeth and a spine.”
“But if you couldn’t open a door, you just had to make a new one.”
“You’re not weak because you can’t read. You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are. […] It’s shame that lines my pockets, shame that keeps the Barrel teeming with fools ready to put on a mask just so they can have what they want with none the wiser about it. We can endure all kinds of pain. It’s shame that eats men whole.”
“She could feel the press of Kaz’s fingers against her skin, feel the bird’s wing brush of his mouth against her neck, see his dilated eyes. Two of the deadliest people the Barrel had to offer and they could barely touch each other without both of them keeling over. But they’d tried. He’d tried. Maybe they could try again. A foolish wish, the sentimental hope of a girl who hadn’t had the firsts of her life stolen, who hadn’t ever felt Tante Heleen’s lash, who wasn’t covered in wounds and wanted by the law. Kaz would have laughed at her optimism.”
“No matter the height of the mountain, the climbing is the same.”
“But when someone does wrong, when we make mistakes, we don’t say we’re sorry. We promise to make amends.” “I will.” “Mati en sheva yelu. This action will have no echo. It means we won’t repeat the same mistakes, that we won’t continue to do harm.”
“Van Eck promised us thirty million kruge,” said Kaz. “That’s exactly what we’re going to take. With another one million for interest, expenses, and just because we can.” Wylan broke a cracker in two. “My father doesn’t have thirty million kruge lying around. Even if you took all his assets together.” “You should leave, then,” said Jesper. “We only associate with the disgraced heirs of the very finest fortunes.”
“You’re better than waffles, Matthias Helvar.” A small smile curled the Fjerdan’s lips. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean, my love.”
“A proper thief is like a proper poison, merchling. He leaves no trace.”
“She took a shaky breath. The words came like a string of gunshots, rapid-fire, as if she resented the very act of speaking them. “I didn’t know if you would come.” Kaz couldn’t blame Van Eck for that. Kaz had built that doubt in her with every cold word and small cruelty. “We’re your crew, Inej. We don’t leave our own at the mercy of merch scum.” It wasn’t the answer he wanted to give. It wasn’t the answer she wanted.
“I just don’t get it. I’ve spent my whole life hiding the things I can’t do. Why run from the amazing things you can do?”
“She felt his knuckles slide against hers. Then his hand was in her hand, his palm was pressed against her own. A tremor moved through him. Slowly, he let their fingers entwine. For a long while, they stood there, hands clasped, looking out at the gray expanse of the sea.”
“Matthias knew monsters, and one glance at Kaz Brekker had told him this was a creature who had spent too long in the dark - he’d brought something back with him when he’d crawled into the light.”
“She wouldn’t wish love on anyone. It was the guest you welcomed and then couldn’t be rid of.”
“Brick by brick. Brick by brick. I will destroy you.” It was the promise that let him sleep at night, that drove him every day, that kept Jordie’s ghost at bay. Because a quick death was too good for Pekka Rollins.”
“Kaz narrowed his eyes. “I’m not some character out of a children’s story who plays harmless pranks and steals from the rich to give to the poor.”
“Inej had once offered to teach him how to fall. “The trick is not getting knocked down,” he’d told her with a laugh. “No, Kaz,” she’d said, “the trick is in getting back up.”
“It was because she was listening so closely the she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.”
“Our hopes rest with you, Mister Brekker. If you fail, all the world will suffer for it.” “Oh, it’s worse than that, Van Eck. If I fail, I don’t get paid.”
“This isn’t… it isn’t a trick, is it?” Her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be. The shadow of something dark moved across Kaz’s face. “If it were a trick, I’d promise you safety. I’d offer you happiness. I don’t know if that exists in the Barrel, but you’ll find none of it with me.” For some reason, those words had comforted her. Better terrible truths than kind lies. “All right,” she said. “How do we begin?” “Let’s start by getting out of here and finding you some proper clothes. Oh, and Inej,” he said as he led her out of the salon, “don’t ever sneak up on me again.”
“They fear you as I once feared you,” he said. “As you once feared me. We are all someone’s monster, Nina.”
“You still may die in the Dregs.” Inej’s dark eyes had glinted. “I may. But I’ll die on my feet with a knife in my hand.”
“Shame holds more value than coin ever can.”
“None of us move on without a backward look. We move on always carrying with us those we have lost.”
“You came back for me.” “I protect my investments.” Investments. “I’m glad I’m bleeding all over your shirt.”
“Why do you wear gloves, Mister Brekker?” Kaz raised a brow. “I’m sure you’ve heard the stories.” “Each more grotesque than the last.” Kaz had heard them, too. Brekker’s hands were stained with blood. Brekker’s hands were covered in scars. Brekker had claws and not fingers because he was part demon. Brekker’s touch burned like brimstone - a single brush of his bare skin caused your flesh to wither and die. “Pick one,” Kaz said as he vanished into the night, thoughts already turning to thirty million kruge and the crew he’d need to help him get it. “They’re all true enough.”
“You have no finesse,” a gambler at the Silver Garter once said to him. “No technique.” “Sure I do,” Kaz had responded. “I practice the art of ‘pull his shirt over his head and punch till you see blood’.”
“A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse.” [...] “What bound them together? Greed? Desperation? Was it just the knowledge that if one or all of them disappeared tonight, no one would come looking?”
120 notes · View notes
catthegreat123 · 3 years
Text
From life to death, from the last to the first
In the beginning there was only yesterday, ruled by fifteen gods.
..
..
..
These gods grew in strength and even more with the want to create.
So the first Ą̸̡̨̛̭͎̲̪͔̜͖̰̱̜̘͇̹͚͓͍͚̼̗̦̯̬̞͔͓̣̘͖̥̘̱̩̯̃̋̏̉̔͋͋̒̀͛̑̽͒̌̄̐̀̇͊̍̓̊́̽͌̒͗̇̒̈̅͘̚͘͝͠͠͝ͅl̷̨̛̜̺͙̤̘͆͑̆̈̇̃̊̀̽͂̔̀͑̎͆̔̀̅̂͂̌̉͒͆͗̍̆̋͊̚̕̕̕͘ͅl̵̨̛̛̦͍̥̅̈̓͒̐̎̾̅͂̌̃̊͆̅̌̊̉̔́̆͊̓͐͆̀͒̀̓̅͛̒̋͛͆͘̕̚̚͘͠͠m̴̛̲̟̳̪̱̻̰̞̪̲̯̺̉̂̔̍͑̌̈́̓̽̉̾̀̌͐̍͑́͊̾͊̈́̇̈̏͌̅͊͘̕͝͝͝o̷̧̧̡̧̢͖̤̹̩̼͉̩̭̾̌̒̉̀̾̅̐́́̏̓͌̍̑̓́̈́͛̑͒̓͊̓̂̔̕͘͜͝͠͠ẗ̷̡̢̜̬̺̮͕̬͖̹͎̪͓͉̳̳̮͕́̈́͋̇̚̚͜h̷̛̥̖̬̜̘̼͎̣̟͚̯͙͉̱̥̦̥̭̀̌͑̈́͛̐͗̈́̕͜͝͝ͅe̶̢̢̢̛͇̰̟̦̦͎̟̪̱̭̘̹͕̫͈̜̮͈̰̞̬͊̒̄̈̉̋̋̅̔̉̅̊̈́̎̀͐̌͛͋͛͗̑͌̂̈̊̎̓̆͗̃͂̽̍̕̕̚͝͝͠͝͠͝ŗ̵̧̢̨̧̡͙̥̼̯̣̭͕̙͖̗͉̣͙̫̫̜͕͍̜̟̣̻̪̱̘͕̗̰̦̜̮̝͖̞̖͇͈̤͔̻͊̌̓̂͜ͅͅͅs̸̨̧͓͈̳̩͚̑͌̋̆̑͋̈́͂̈́̀̾̒͑͘̕ were created.
They breathed life into a distorted growing world, a vast landmass emerging in their wake. The fifteen gods who created land and sea.
The Ą̸̡̨̛̭͎̲̪͔̜͖̰̱̜̘͇̹͚͓͍͚̼̗̦̯̬̞͔͓̣̘͖̥̘̱̩̯̃̋̏̉̔͋͋̒̀͛̑̽͒̌̄̐̀̇͊̍̓̊́̽͌̒͗̇̒̈̅͘̚͘͝͠͠͝ͅl̷̨̛̜̺͙̤̘͆͑̆̈̇̃̊̀̽͂̔̀͑̎͆̔̀̅̂͂̌̉͒͆͗̍̆̋͊̚̕̕̕͘ͅl̵̨̛̛̦͍̥̅̈̓͒̐̎̾̅͂̌̃̊͆̅̌̊̉̔́̆͊̓͐͆̀͒̀̓̅͛̒̋͛͆͘̕̚̚͘͠͠m̴̛̲̟̳̪̱̻̰̞̪̲̯̺̉̂̔̍͑̌̈́̓̽̉̾̀̌͐̍͑́͊̾͊̈́̇̈̏͌̅͊͘̕͝͝͝o̷̧̧̡̧̢͖̤̹̩̼͉̩̭̾̌̒̉̀̾̅̐́́̏̓͌̍̑̓́̈́͛̑͒̓͊̓̂̔̕͘͜͝͠͠ẗ̷̡̢̜̬̺̮͕̬͖̹͎̪͓͉̳̳̮͕́̈́͋̇̚̚͜h̷̛̥̖̬̜̘̼͎̣̟͚̯͙͉̱̥̦̥̭̀̌͑̈́͛̐͗̈́̕͜͝͝ͅe̶̢̢̢̛͇̰̟̦̦͎̟̪̱̭̘̹͕̫͈̜̮͈̰̞̬͊̒̄̈̉̋̋̅̔̉̅̊̈́̎̀͐̌͛͋͛͗̑͌̂̈̊̎̓̆͗̃͂̽̍̕̕̚͝͝͠͝͠͝ŗ̵̧̢̨̧̡͙̥̼̯̣̭͕̙͖̗͉̣͙̫̫̜͕͍̜̟̣̻̪̱̘͕̗̰̦̜̮̝͖̞̖͇͈̤͔̻͊̌̓̂͜ͅͅͅs̸̨̧͓͈̳̩͚̑͌̋̆̑͋̈́͂̈́̀̾̒͑͘̕ had three for every of their species, the first mothers. They are false gods, worshipped for their power but just as dangerous and killable as a minawnii.
I feel the rocks shift, I watched my sisters leave for the shallow colors above me. I want to sleep, I do not care for yesterday it bores me, though I do quite like the island in the middle.
It’s so full of life and society builds around herds of thousands….that’s the only place I want to go. Maybe I will go one day…maybe…
I reached my head out of the sea, watching the sands of tomorrow calling for something to take me from this sea to the land beyond. I have hoped for eons for that, now yesterday is gone, Today is here.
I have watched things pass over me as the land becomes lush, huge white kangaroo-like beings. They have black pupils that have watched me…I will not care when they die..
As I beg on this watery fence a nycoton comes to me, oh how I owe them my life. I know now I should not have cared for another mortal again after this NYCOTON but I did, and it hurts me still.
They stared at me like a pitiful dog who just fell in the river, I am older than the lush grass beneath that creatures claws. Though I will never be able to tell them not in my garbled words, corrupted and vile.
The white beasts came and attacked the poor creature ripping them apart, they died taking me to that lake, forever I wonder how it would be if they never lifted me from that cursed stream.
They lifted me from those waves and took me to a lake, an oasis. The same white creatures stare at me forever more like I am a plague come to kill them. In the end I was I guess…
The days grew hotter and I watched the pond shrink as centuries passed it became sand, the dense fur of those white diesura made them leave I think. They looked panicked every time I rose my head from the water, tossing meat at me in fear.
They ran and the oasis was empty for a while I watched hungrily, and soon wardens came.
Huge creatures, hellions I believe they came in wondrous elegance casting order in an empty land. They were at war I think, they didn’t like a poisonous alternates, big as them or as toxic as a mola mola.
I watched as in fear a huge green portal ripped through the sky, I watched as these wardens, overseers, protecters.
They betrayed their own duty….
They chased the creatures they warred with to the sky killing those who ran. I saw a young sar’hingaro fly away in tears, given mercy and vengeance by the wardens, allowed to live forever alone in this evil land.
I decided this land must learn, I told stories and legends from yesterday to anyone who came near my pond, speaking of trees bigger than imaginable, and mushroom grass that fed you like berries.
They all listened to these tales, some stayed to hear more, despite the stories being limited to the tales and songs told to me by the winds.
These tales attracted many beings across the lands, some came to the oasis for the stories. But overtime it became that the creatures wanted to not be alone.
Many creatures were roaming the land, alone save for their family. This barren desert served a collection, the steps and gallops of these creatures led to the oasis becoming more desert like.
Under the wardens rule the land flourished, but I listened to the wind, and heard the cries of that sar from oh so long ago.
It was called grief, it was alone forevermore, all it’s people left in a wasteland save for this poor beast.
Grief, as what was it’s name, grows to vengeance, so I watched as the sky was painted green in its monstrous size.
I watched helpless, as the wardens queen, a huge boreal, followed by verdants, ardors, and hellions alike.
It was a slaughter, the beasts I played games with and wondered at snow the young creatures I watched dance under the moon,
Gone,
Fire painted the sand red as the sar named grief destroyed the land, blowing holes in the mountains.
I watched it felt as if my gills ripped themselves from my body and cried with me.
A black and white kendyll heard, it listened to my distorted garbles, incomprehensible but full of tangible emotion, I had not eaten in so long and I was sad.
The kendyll listened and left for a few days and brung me, a carcass of something too marred with bites and blood to tell. I stayed quiet, carnage wrote itself over this poor thing.
MEAT
I feasted like a starving dog that night.
I learned how to speak sonarian better because of that kendyll, she talked to me so much….it was nice. A friend…I hadn’t had that in many millenia they were something I wanted to be if I could walk these lands…
But all things die, some more brutally than most.
I woke up one day swimminb to the shallows looking for that kendyll who spoke to me so much bringing me food and warming a heart as cold as the trenches below. Only to find only her dead floating body , bobbing on the surface of the sea covered in poison, already starting to rot.
Yet again I felt my heart twist and feel heavy, yet again that horrible feeling you despicable mortals call….grief. I swam around the shallows looking for any sign it was a joke…it wasn’t…
I will keep hope I WILL you mortals are just….lost…
But after a week or so, her child came to me, tail between their legs filled with the same twisting sight in their own hearts. They ranted sadly about how unfair it was an so on and so forth, I listened my heart broke a little more…. More than a god could even stand….. funny..
I have been here since the world began but I just can let go of the fact that mortals are corrupt.
The young kendyll grew older, as all mortals grew, they shown like stars on their stripes, a beauty to rival the three moons above our own heads, but at a cost of their own mother. A sad price I don’t think any being would pay…
I came to the shallows again hoping to be given food by the sad kendyll but found their drowned body instead, another friend had died. Those useless mortals can’t stay ALIVE why can’t they just STAY.
Yet again I cried and cried, but I didn’t want them to be eaten by a hungry idiotic scavenger so I buried their body in the sandy waters where kelp still grows, green by my blessing.
The last these kendylls to bring me food was the sad ones niece. I never learned their name but they were excitable. They ruled when the rulers of the oasis were divided, and rules were strict and cruel.
She ranted to me about the unfair rules and made plans of rebellion, they never came true though…. She died of sadness after she found her eggs crushed, and wife dead.
So useless….
The ani’s lasted longest out of all the rulers of the oasis, probably more than in the rule of the cruel Jeff’s.
The Jeff’s I never saw, but was told to me by the gods. The Jeff’s who built castles out of lightning and rock. Bigger than mountains and crushed creatures big and small out of rage.
The ani’s grew to a empire across the oasis. They swam in my waters playing and giving me food, as every ruler did before.
They were cruel killing every carnivore that came, it was hypocritical in a sense, they kept me alive at the cost of many I will never know…..
….
Their foolishness though led them to die to a volcanic eruption. I do not miss them though, they were religious and hateful to other species.
The ones who had lived under other kings, queens, emperors and empresses.
The final true caretaker was a green kendyll, scarred and mute. He never spoke but he is the only one I knew by name. The kendyll’s name was luv, a weird one but land dwellers are like that.
He showed me things in the sand I will never see and I marveled at it despite my life eons longer than his.
He brung me food more than the others, quiet, always seeming regretful.
One day I watched as he looked around with insanity in his eyes, a need to kill.
I watched as he killed anyone in his path, it was a slaughter. He killed everything, the sands blood red. Bubbling with hate and white hot vengeance.
Luv roared words that could only be described as madness, and anger that was fueled by a broken mind.
He screamed and crashed in hatred killing the divided rulers and their people. When I looked out of the pool of water I saw blood everywhere. Many sought retribution.
He came back after a few weeks scarred beyond comprehension and filled with grief. I couldn’t bear to lose another “friend”. I tried to protect him but….Luv didn’t survive his grief of killing so many. I tried hard to protect him and heal him, but it was all for not.
So that night he passed away.
As many centuries passed, empires and tyrants rose and fell like the suns above us all, the oasis changed. The sand would forevermore be red with rage and insanity and murder and disaster haunted every corner. I protected those who asked but was feared.
Kohiiki’s as old as me looked ghoulish and as ancient as I was I still hoped every little creature to every mammoth would live in peace one day.
One who shared my thoughts was a small vaumora not even three, who danced and played on the shallows of my large pond, always joyous when I spoke in my garbled mimicry of you land dwellers language.
The vaumora seemed to light up every bit of the red sands painted by blood for so long. Making even the worst of the inhabitants smile. But the little vaumora’s joy didn’t last, caught in the crossfire of a turf war, they died in flames.
I loved the oasis but I had seen it grow for what was three millennia now, crying over lost friends or watching coldy over corrupt rulers.
The last of these rulers to ever reign under my blessing and hopes was a group of jotunhel.
These seals were smart enough to protect and Ally with the worst but after so many generations the ideals changed. War painted the dunes, the plains, and redwoods. What was my last promise was gone, so I take my last goodbye.
I have watched the world change and tears of the last wardens. I hope while I leave to the dark abyss that I came from, immortal as I am. That your world changes to something better.
But I will not watch, my heart has been ripped from my gills to many times for that.
I want to come back, maybe when you have learned…
So goodbye to the oasis May we meet again at a time which is better.
:::::::
I have listened to the words of the wind for a long, long time. Watching the waves sing their hymns to me
My hope, despite being broken so many times may just be true. So I tell my sights back to the place a lot oh so long ago.
When I returned it was not the same place, scattered but at peace. It did have an overseer of sorts.
I really should have listened to those words and warnings the wind carried to me, through the depths of the ocean to the place this world rose from.
I placed to much hope in you creatures filled with greed and fear, to angry at each other to notice what had watched, like me fro an eternity.
:::::::
Aereis were old things, things that had been there since before the mountains were even molehills.
They always watched, some came but many hid and died in the ancient mountains of yesterday.
But for every species there was an allmother, the first of their kind, immortal and huge. There were three Aereis that were allmother’s, and one who watched a bit to closely. They were jealous of the allmother kohiiki who despite their title never had a single child.
A false god of sorts, she was jealous that they played, and spoke, and shared eternal knowledge to those from today and tomorrow. The Aereis waited, and waited for three millennia, and finally the Kohiiki allmother left, sad and hopeless.
The Aereis flew down casting order and life in to a broken kingdom teaching them of the world from before, when the volcano was a mountain in a sea. When the very oasis they stood on was nothing more than an island therochales congregated in massive herds of thousands.
The broken lands stood in confliction staring hatefully at the first predators, the ones who caused this wonderlands destruction.
From this hate the Aereis allmother molded the land into what she thought as perfect.
A land with no rules and only her false prophecies stolen from the great lmakosauridons from that long taken sleep and dreamed of better days.
::::::
I saw what had become of my waters filled with scratch marks, trying to get rid of what was the last words to this beloved place to me.
What changed?
I saw the Aereis, staring along the land like it was a junevile just out of the egg. What cruel fate was this?
I forged this land though my broken heart and it now belonged to a false god? They did not know who had forged these sands into something better, who watched it change and cry?
I looked for anything that remained, I may have been confined to the waters and held captive by the binds of the waves but the rain and wind told me songs and stories from tomorrow and today.
I listened to what happened, not of peace but of trickery and jealousy, and I raged.
I called every storm I could call hoping for change
I called for the greatest floods and the strongest hurricanes
The most evil gales that tore through mountains like paper
I called to every cloud and every drop of water to reek justice to what had been my hopes and dreams.
Dishonor to had been once was, but I am not cruel.
I called to the furies had sent to not harmed those who still remembered, those undeserving of the evils. Those who met justice would be given it in kind, I will reap just what they sought.
What was left of my land, stricken grew better, the red sands filled with blood no longer haunted the corrupt oasis. Trees grew tall and the island from yesterday grew back. But this cruelty still must meet justice.
I swam to the heart of this world and cried my regret, not thinking of the blood shed to a world that will never know. I will give something back to fix what had been lost.
I wanted to give the gift of a portal locked away. The wardens were long gone, I could not open it.
So I searched for some being who could. For decades a swam the endless waters, listened to the rains chatter and the winds excited symphonies.
I found what could’ve been, the tired ancient sar’hingaro from the days of the hellions, and it’s dying hope. I took what was needed, a soul for the freedom of a wastelands sorrows.
….
..
.
Finally my gift had been given, the world the wardens locked away in their unfit justice.
So few were left from that exile but they came back and I was happy.
I watched as my gift healed the blood that had built this tomorrow.
I am at peace now so I say this to my last hopes and dreams, I am ready to sleep I have rebuilt a world into something that yesterday had been, today had destroyed, and tomorrow was again.
It had been 20 long millennium and I am tired, so I sleep in the primordial rocks I came from with my two sisters. They will comfort me while I sleep, have been away from them for much to long…
From the ends of the earth and the reaches of the sky, my greatest treasure, I have told to you,
Till I awake again,
Leviathan
13 notes · View notes
the-13th-rose · 2 years
Text
Whumptober 2021 Day 5 - Misunderstanding
Universe: Currently unnamed horror crossover
Characters: Annie (oc), The Miner (My Bloody Valentine)
Content warnings: Broken bones, vomit (character is briefly said to have thrown up, but it isn’t addressed again)
All of my writing is intended for a teen audience or older, unless otherwise stated! My writing often contains violence, strong language, and/or horror, so please use your head and don’t read my work if you think you might be triggered by it.
Summary: Annie is a young woman cursed to be eternally pursued by Hunters, various fictional slashers that come from the media Annie has seen in the past. She’s sick of the cycle, and unbeknownst to her, so is one of the Hunters, who she’s led to an abandoned factory. The Hunter, however, doesn’t speak, and Annie isn’t willing to pay attention to his attempts at forming a truce, still fully convinced he’s trying to kill her.
Word count: 2,261
Oh, Annie. Unfortunate Annie, whose mother unwittingly crossed a witch in her youth. Yes, a witch who saw fit to curse not the “crosser” herself, but her future firstborn instead. It was a wicked curse, designed not to go into effect until the firstborn reached her 18th year, so that she could become fully accustomed to a fear-free existence before having it ripped away from her. And the effects of the curse? To spend eternity pursued by monstrous Hunters. Annie found herself unable to die at all unless by the hand of a Hunter, and upon meeting her end at the hands of one, she would awaken in the morning of that same day, forced to re-do the events of the day. On days when a Hunter pursues her, Annie would have to survive its attempts to kill her until the break of the next day, or be forced to continue repeating the day until she managed to survive the encounter. This was Annie’s fate. To never truly know peace, for death to never be a release.
So, understandably, Annie had no patience for these Hunters anymore. She’d taken to a more proactive approach to survival, opting to fight back against the Hunters instead of simply running away or hiding. She wasn’t always successful in besting the Hunters, but her infinite re-dos allowed her to train and improve. By now, she’d become quite adept at fighting off and defeating the Hunters that pursued her. In fact, it had resulted in them leaving her alone for longer periods of time than before. Unfortunately, it had also forced them to get craftier. Annie and the Hunters were locked in a seemingly infinite arms race.
When one of the Hunters decided he’d had enough of the endless cycle as well, he saw befriending the cursed girl as his best option for a chance to break it, and finally stop being tethered to the curse. Unfortunately, he just so happened to be selectively mute, which would no doubt make explaining himself to Annie quite difficult.
Fleeing a pursuing Hunter Annie had designated “The Miner”, she soon found herself in the middle of an abandoned factory. As strange as it might seem, Annie had deliberately fled to this location, in the hopes of having an advantage over the Miner. Since he typically attacked with wide swings of his pickaxe, narrow corridors and paths surrounded by broken-down machinery would surely impede his attempts to attack her.
Panting, Annie paused in the middle of the old work floor. “Man, don’t you guys ever get tired?” She called out to the approaching Miner. “Seriously, though, how do you manage to make keeping up with someone for multiple city blocks look so effortless?”
The Miner stopped in the middle of the floor, mere feet away from Annie. Now that she looked closer, Annie noticed that he actually did appear somewhat winded, slouching a bit and breathing a little heavily through his gas mask.
“Guess you’re only as immortal as me, huh?” Annie quipped. She placed her hands on her hips and tried to make herself appear dangerous. “Well come on, take your best shot! I’m fucking tired, man. I want to go home and sleep, already!”
The Miner shook his head, which confused Annie a little. “...No?” Annie huffed. “What do you mean, ‘no’? Why would you follow me this far if you’re not trying to kill me?”
The Miner took a few steps closer to Annie, which she responded to by backing away and reaching for her survival knife, concealed in her pants pocket. Against a pickaxe, it wouldn’t do much good, but that’s what the tight corridors were for. She just had to make sure she led him into them. It didn’t really register to Annie that the Miner had his signature weapon still upon his belt, rather than holding it out, ready to attack.
What is your deal? Annie wondered, squinting angrily at the Hunter. Oh well. Doesn’t matter. I just have to keep you from giving me a re-do. “Hey, if you’re not going to leave me alone, then keep following me. I want to show you something,” she said to the Hunter, as she walked backwards towards the stairs leading up to an overhead walkway.
The Miner was no fool. At this point, he could tell Annie was trying to trick him. All the same, he had a goal in mind, and whatever half-baked trick Annie had up her sleeve wasn’t going to make him give up and turn away. So, still keeping his hands free of his weapon, a gesture he hoped she’d notice, he followed Annie as she slowly led him onto the walkway.
“That’s right…,” Annie encouraged the Hunter. “Right this way…”
The Miner followed her to the overhead walkway. They were both quite a distance from the factory floor now, surely far enough to cause serious injury if either of them were to fall.
“Miner, I brought paper, so you can talk to me for once,” Annie spoke up at last, rummaging in her pockets. “Get closer so I can give it to you. I can’t just throw it at you, that’d be rude. Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get close if I didn’t trust you, right? That just doesn’t make sense.”
The Miner tilted his head at her words, but admittedly, the idea of being able to actually explain himself to her was too enticing. Sure, it could be a trick, but if need be, he could defend himself. Surely against someone like Annie. And so the Miner walked forward, closer and closer to Annie, until he was right in front of her. He held out one hand, waiting for the paper to be placed into his hand.
Annie rifled through her pocket for a moment, and then, when she thought his guard was at its lowest, she swung outward towards him with her survival knife.
The Miner lunged back, stumbling backwards at first, but quickly catching his footing. As he backed away from her rather reckless knife-swinging, he reached for his pickaxe and held it out in front of Annie to block her knife strikes.
“Come on, you’re just gonna play defense this time?!” Annie snapped, fury burning in her eyes. “What happened to swinging your pick through my face? Into my chest? You could knock me off this walkway, easy! Why won’t you try?! You’re being so weird!!!”
The Miner didn’t change his strategy, merely continuing to step backwards as Annie advanced towards him.
“Come on! I don’t want to be the only one on offense, here! It feels weird!”
Lunging towards him, Annie got in a lucky strike and her knife scraped across the Miner’s fingers. In reacting to this, he dropped his pickaxe onto the floor of the walkway. The weight of the impact must have knocked something loose in the rusted, worn metal, because in the next moment, the panel he stood on fell out from underneath him.
Annie had a split-second of expecting him to hang there in the air for a moment like they do in cartoons. Instead, he fell through instantly. The impact noise his body made against the factory floor made her wince, despite her intentions of harming him.
Annie peered over the walkway’s railing to the floor below.
The Miner was crumpled against the floor, splayed out on his back. His legs were bent horribly out of their proper positions. Even from 20 feet above, she could tell they were totally wrecked. This Hunter wasn’t going anywhere now. At least, not any faster than he could drag himself.
Annie looked behind her, knowing she couldn’t leave the walkway the same way the Miner had. She didn’t want to stay up there, either, considering that the rest of the walkway could easily be just as fragile. So she slowly turned around and gingerly, yet quickly, made her way towards the stairs at the other end of the walkway.
The Miner came back to his senses, having been momentarily dazed by the fall. He tried to sit up, propping his body up with his arms. The pickaxe that had sent him plummeting in the first place was lying a good few feet away. When he tried to move towards it, however, he was met with a wave of sharp agony shooting through his legs. Out of impulse, he let out a scream. He turned to inspect the state of his legs, and...was met with disgustingly wrong angles and a small spot of white through a new hole in his pant leg. Recognizing this as bone, he cried out in shock and frantically lifted his mask just enough to expose his mouth.
Annie heard him retch as she reached the bottom of the steps without incident. She lingered by the bottom of the steps for a moment, unsure if she should get near him to finish him off, despite him not looking like he could possibly put up a fight at this point. She walked over to him as he replaced the gas mask and the noise-amplified breaths resumed, heavy and fast.
“...” Annie kept the hilt of the knife gripped tightly in her hand. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” She called out to him. “Maybe that’ll finally teach you to leave me alone, next time you come back. Why don’t you tell your Hunter buddies about this, get them off my back too, huh?”
Annie raised her knife as she stood beside him, poised for the perfect final stab. But as she looked over him, noticed his body language, and watched him flinch away from her final blow, shutting his eyes, which she was only just now seeing underneath the lenses of his mask. And her grip faltered, until she wound up dropping the knife altogether. “Dammit,” she swore, stamping her foot against the floor in frustration. “I really thought I’d be able to do it this time….I’m not really a killer, am I?”
The Miner shook his head, before slouching over and trying to pull his legs along with him. Merely touching them caused him to throw his head back in pain.
“...I guess this would be more of a mercy thing than self-defense at this point, huh?” Annie muttered, mostly thinking out loud. “...Yeah, so I led you here with the intention of killing you as a way to send a message. But I guess I’m kind of pathetic. At least when you’re pathetic, too. Now I can’t do it.”
“...I also didn’t really have paper.”
At this, the Miner shot her a glare, but quickly returned to flinching over his wounds.
“...I can’t believe I’m saying this but...sorry.” Annie muttered, running her hand through her hair. “...You really were just defending. You totally could have killed me back there, but you didn’t, so...dammit, maybe I misjudged you. At least this time, anyway. Because, like, you have killed me before.”
The Miner shrugged half-heartedly, leaning back on his arms and staring at the ceiling, every now and then squeezing his eyes shut and hissing through his mask.
Annie pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. “...11:30 pm?” She slipped it back into her pocket. “Didn’t feel that late…” She shrugged. “Well, at least I’ve only got to survive for 30 more minutes. She eyed the knife at her feet, and the pickaxe lying a little ways away. “...Do you need a weapon to...reset?” It felt incredibly awkward to ask, but he did seem to be in horrible pain.
The Miner shook his head, gesturing first to his legs, and then to Annie’s phone. The answer seemed clear.
“...You guys reset at midnight?” Annie guessed, to which the Miner weakly nodded. “...Still, 30 minutes is a long time with something that bad. Are you sure--?”
The Miner shook his head, and started pulling at his clothes, trying to tear off a strip of fabric.
“...Oh. I guess I can try to patch you up for now.” Annie replied, turning around to search for a first aid kit or some kind of fabric to turn into makeshift bandages. “...My clothes are cleaner,” she muttered, picking up the knife and carefully cutting strips from the hem of her shirt. “There’s not much, it probably won’t really help, but…” She started gingerly wrapping the strips around his legs.
He gave a loud, sudden cry when she touched his legs, and screamed at her attempts to set the bones. It was horribly amateur. Annie clearly didn’t really know what she was doing, but it was better than her trying to kill him again, he figured.
“Um…” Annie would have to admit it didn’t look very good at all. “Well...it’s only 20-something more minutes,” she tried to reassure him.
The Miner groaned, leaning back on his arms again.
“...Sorry, again, for being too dense to realize you weren’t trying to kill me this time…,” Annie sighed. “I’m just so sick of all this. Was...was that what you were trying to tell me? That you’re sick of this, too, and you want to form a truce?”
He threw his hands down against the floor in frustration, then nodded.
“...Guess I’m not as good at reading people as I thought. Well, at least you get to reset after all this. If you really mean it, I’m willing to forget about all the times you killed me...you gonna forget about the whole ‘breaking your legs’ thing?”
The Miner sighed, but nodded slowly and held out a hand for Annie to take.
“Alright. We’ll shake on it.”
4 notes · View notes