#just can’t decide who would be tiresias

[nineraeix]

itching to try and make a tma animatic to “no longer you” from epic the musical. like

[docholligay]

Prompt day, Rei and Michiru cook off

Rei hated the way Michiru laughed.

Not all the time, mind you, because Rei was very used to her practiced society giggle, and sometimes Michiru would even laugh in a genuine way that went all the way up to her eyes, and Rei supposed that this type of laughter was genuine too. That fact only made her madder, but it remained true. It was the sort of laugh that implied utter disbelief, like what Rei was saying was an incredible joke, and it always came after Rei stated a simple fact.

“Oh Rei,” she looked away, recovering from her laughter, “You can’t possibly be serious. Come now, let’s us decide--”

“I am so!” Rei balled her fists at her sides, “I am so a better cook than you!”

“Yes, well, if yelling made one into Gordon Ramsay, than that might be true.” She took a sip of her tea, “But as it stands, though I confess I am no great talent with a pan, I have experienced food outside of a microwave once or twice.”

“I know how to cook outside of microwave! I did great in Home Ec!” She put her hands on her hips, “I’m more Gorton than you’ll ever be!”

“Gordon, not Gorton, we are speaking of the chef, not the man on your box of fish sticks.” Michiru smiled, “and you may test that assumption at your earliest convenience.”

Haruka and Mina sat next to each other on the opposite side of the room, saying nothing, afraid to break the spell that was in front of them. Mina leaned just a little toward Haruka.

“Three hundred yen and a pizza night on Hino.” She inclined the bag of chips toward Haruka, who scoffed.

“You’re on. Michiru is like, a gourmet,” she reached her hand toward the bag, “no contest.”

“Yeah, well, you love to read fashion magazines.”

“Mmhmm,” Haruka put a few chips in her mouth, “and I--hey! Also Rei is blind?”

Mins shook her head. “She’s only blind legally. Michiru’s domestically helpless on every level, including some legal ones, probably.”

“I challenge you!” Rei bellowed, “Right here and now!”

Mina sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why she has to sound like she’s playing Yu-Gi-Oh with a bunch of kids when she does this shit.”

“Very well,” Michiru folded her napkin and laid it aside. “Shall we discuss terms?”

“I’m going to beat you--”

“Not a term so much as a prophecy, but continue, Tiresias.” Michiru smiled at her own joke, which was just as well, seeing as no one else was going to.

“And you’ll have to…”

Rei was a clever sort, and even Michiru on her most withering day would not have said otherwise, but she was also, even after all these years, a terrible hothead, and did not think sometimes beyond the winning for the sake of crushing her enemies. She could have demanded nearly anything of Michiru, were it not for the fact that the thing she wanted most was for Michiru to say she had been right.

“You’ll have to clean my entire kitchen, top to bottom! Scrubbing the grout, even.”

“My love,” Mina chewed on her chips, “Could you not pick a room we use more? Or like, maybe make her walk around the Akib--”

“Oh, do be quiet in the gallery,” Michiru slowly rose to her feet. “Very well. If I lose, your kitchen gets clean--”

“By you! Don’t try to weasel word me, Kaioh, I’ve known you too long.” Rei crossed her arms, satisfied with her own cleverness. “You have to clean it. Yourself.”

“I will do it,” she said, but with a touch of annoyance in her voice, “however, when you lose, Hino Industries becomes sponsor of a VIP table at this year’s gala for the art museum.”

“Michiru that’s like two hundred thousand--”

“Ah, now we see the price of our confidence.”

“Oh fine! You just watch! I’ll make the best--whatever it is we’re making, and enjoy the barkeeper’s friend!”

“I’m not entirely certain your mixologist’s friends might have to do with anything, but please trust it won’t be necessary for me to know.”

Haruka raised an eyebrow to Mina. “So the gala’s theme is Rome this year, if you want to be the horse pulling my chariot.”

“Don’t ask me to engage in ponyplay bud, it’s weird.” Mina clapped her hands together. “Can I suggest upping the ante with maid costumes? HIgher level of difficulty?”

Rei shot her a look. “Shut up, Minako.”

Mina shrugged. “Can’t hit if you don’t swing.”

Michiru took a book off the shelf, and opened to a random page. “There we are. Beef Wellington. I’ve had it dozens of times, how difficult could it possibly be? Is this acceptable to you? I realize Banquet has not yet released a version, so it’s understandable if you’re unfamiliar with it.”

“I know what Beef Wellington is, and guess what? We’re also going to make the pastry, and I don’t care if you DO have to do it one-handed!”

“It spares me the annoyance of having to tie it behind my back, and please be assured I would.”

Mina looked over to Haruka. “Listen I know we’re supposed to go get pizza tonight for our date, but we’re staying to watch this, right?”

“Oh abso-fucking-lutely”

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: What poem would you want to be read at your funeral and why?

Surprisingly I don’t find this a morbid question at all. It is a question I haven’t given much thought to in a long time because when do we ever really question our mortality?

I suspect the younger we are the further we push it away. That is until a freak crisis of some sort hits us. I can think of a few occasions when perhaps I have thought about it momentarily. I have found myself in some freak situations where I thought I was going to die - like a mountaineering accident or when I had a parachute accident. But in those situations a poem to be read at your funeral is the last thing that you dwell on in your mind!

The only other conscious times I have thought about it was when I was going through Sandhurst as an army officer cadet. Towards the end of Week 8 or so the junior cadets have to visit Brookwood Military Cemetery to see the fallen - the visit is done by all cadets and it’s done not just as an act of remembrance but also a reminder that the fate of real lives could depend on the decisions you take as an officer. I can’t articulate the feelings that coarse through you as you read the youthful inscriptions of those who died in battle (past and present) and reflect it back upon your own sense of fragile mortality.

Surprisingly I didn’t think too much about poems or eulogies when I was out serving in Afghanistan. There simply wasn’t time to think too much. It’s hard to explain but there is simply too much going on both in and out of the heat of battle: the amount of work to be done between missions as well as the tiredness, lack of sleep, and exhaustion to manage whilst also doing anything - from playing silly pranks, playing sports, reading, writing, doing laundry etc - to take your mind far away from dark thoughts.

I think about my mortality more when I meet very old veterans on their last legs or when I attend solemn commemorative services.

I can think of many poems that I would love to be read at my funeral so it’s hard to decide. I especially like ‘Ithaka’ by Cavafy for instance. But I’ll go with Alfred Lord Tennyson’s ‘Ulysses’.

The last part of the poem especially resonates for me:

Come, my friends, 'T is not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho' We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

The full poem itself reveals Ulysses (Odysseus from Homer's Odyssey)  the ageing king who, having returned from the Trojan war, yearns to don his armour again and ride off in search of battle, glory, and adventure (leaving his poor wife Penelope behind). The poem ends with Ulysses triumphantly announcing his intention to sail off again on yet more adventures. After being away from home for ten years while fighting in the Trojan War, and then taking ten years to get back home to the island of Ithaca to his family, Ulysses feels ill at ease at home. The civilian’s life is not for him: he is made for battle and adventure and voyaging (even though, in the Odyssey, he manifestly hates travelling on the sea), and will never be content to be the stay-at-home king with a wife and son, living out the rest of his years on Ithaca and enjoying ‘the quiet life’.

Tennyson of course drew upon Homer's Odyssey but also drew upon Dante's Inferno, Canto XXVI, in which Dante is led by the Roman epic poet Virgil to meet Ulysses and hear his tale. In Homer, Odysseus is told by the blind prophet Tiresias that he will return home to Ithaca but will then make one more journey to a land far away from home. In Dante, this part of the story is fleshed out. Ulysses gathers his men together to prepare for the journey and exhorts them not to waste their time left on earth. He dies on this journey, which is why he is in Dante’s hell. Tennyson's character is somewhere in between these literary predecessors, as Ulysses knows he will set off on a last journey but has not done so yet. Critics also note the influence of Shakespeare, particularly his Troilus and Cressida, which also includes Ulysses.

Ulysses knows he is famous for his great deeds, but this is not what motivates him. Unlike Achilles, glory was never the goal of Ulysses, it was the spirit of adventure.

Indeed what I love about this poem is Ulysses’ inquisitive spirit is to be always looking forward. He has seen much and has seen a great variety of cultures, but this is all in the past. Experiences have made him who he is, but what matters is passing through the “arch” to the “untravell’d world” and constantly moving toward the ever-escaping horizon.

In addition to the arch, Ulysses uses another metaphor here, calling himself a sword that must “shine in use” rather than “rust unburnish’d.” Yet, at home he feels bored and useless, yearning to truly engage with what’s left of his life. He is impatient for new experiences, lamenting every hour and every day that he does not seek “something more.”

Ulysses’ quest for adventure and fulfilment, like the goal of Goethe's Faust, is defined by the pursuit of new and unique knowledge “beyond the utmost bound of human thought.” Adventurer isn’t just about experience it’s about knowledge and, one hopes, wisdom.

Tennyson wrote this poem just after the death of his friend, Arthur Henry Hallam in 1833. Tennyson found himself thrust into the role of Ulysses. Confronted by the death of his friend, Tennyson noticed a sudden urge to drive forwards in life and not settle for the commonplace. As stated in the poem, ‘death closes all,’ enlightening the poet to the need to make the most of his life before it escapes him.

The poem’s final line is the most famous. The need ‘to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield’ fits into the Victorian urge to escape the tedious nature of day-to-day life, to achieve a level of mythical fame reached by the classical heroes, to travel ‘beyond the sunset, and the baths of all the western stars.’ Tennyson doesn’t want to conform, he wants to challenge himself, and he wants to break new ground before his inevitable death. Just like Ulysses, Tennyson wants to go out adventuring rather than settle for regular life.

But where most people have misunderstood the poem is in that final line. They tend to only focus on the last line at the expense of what comles before. So “‘To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield’ is meremy seen as a monumental pronouncement for unbridled success and arrogant pride disguised as optimism. But it’s one that is isolated from its context within the poem as a whole. Indeed in doing so it robs Tennyson’s poetry of its fragile nuance. People forget to think about the last line within the context of the two lines above, “ One equal temper of heroic hearts/Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will.”

Despite being stoic and leading a life of meaningful purpose (heroic even), life still leaves us room with doubt and equivocation. As Tennyson himself suggested, confidence and doubt are equal elements of his poem’s meaning: he said that it ‘was written under the sense of loss and that all had gone by, but that still life must be fought out to the end’.

The struggle between the sense of loss and the desire to fight life out to the end remains unresolved at the end of the poem. I think this titanic struggle remains true even if one has religious faith and a belief of resurrection of an after-life. As a believing Christian I see no tension in this other than the ones being pulled on the human heart and the divine soul.

In the end Ulysses' enduring challenge to himself, is a challenge to us, to push ahead with energy and strength of will no matter how old or weak our bodies are. To yield to age or weakness is to be less than fully human and yet paradoxically when our bodies give out and we fail it’s also very human. As honourable as it may be to live a peaceful life without risk, we miss the most exciting aspects of life if we do not venture out, at least a little bit, into the unknown. For me as a Christian, the unknown (or as Donald Rumsfeld would put it ‘a known unknown’) is of course the ‘undiscovered country’ beyond life, the eternal life in the presence of Christ. As such Tennyson’s poem - as I like to think about my life - is not one of past lament but one of future hope.

Thanks for your question.

[alchemist-shizun]

To tend thee is my care

ACT I

ACT II - Read on Ao3!

See the awesome fanart!

Word count: 13,679 

Taglist: @lesbianturtle @len-art-trash @i-need-you-buddy @jeevashun @quietlypondering  @creativity-killed-thekitten @bookwyrminspiration @i-have-n0-idea-what-im-d0ing  @softanxiouspatton @be-more-chaotic @pheonix-inside-reblogs @www-dot-ohshit-dot-com @datfearlessfangirl @alltimevirgilant @royalnerd829 @just-fic-me-up @theblankest123 @theotherella​ @thesleepyraziel @gaylotusthatexists @sendingcookiesfromhell @mijako98 @logicalberry @maybe-i-like-the-misery @orderly-opaline @purpledemond

(Please tell me if you want to be added too for Act II!)

Characters: Virgil, Nonbinary!Roman

Summary: You’ve heard of enemies to lovers now get ready for acquaintances to friends to now we’re fighting because I’m scared of your rejection so I’m pretending it’s your fault when it clearly is mine to friends again, even though you’re an idiot, but I still love you to lovers. 

Roman and Virgil are both part of the theater group of their school, Roman is one of the actors, while Virgil is the head of the stage design group. Despite being in the same year and having lessons in the same building, they hadn’t really ever talked to each other, but everything was about to change when the teachers, heads of the whole theater group, announced that they were going to challenge themselves by presenting one of Euipides’ last plays: The Bacchantes. Follow our two main characters helping each other out as one is forced to learn how to act in a matter of months and the other goes through a journey of self-discovery as he studies his role.

Pairing(s): Prinxiety (I’m unpredictable)

Warning(s): Mild swearing, Death mention (mostly when talking about the tragedy), Blood mention (once), Negative thinking, Implied toxic parenting (once), [Me projecting heavily onto Virgil (also Ro at some point)]

A/n: I’ve been writing this for months and I can’t explain how proud I am to show you guys this! Before you start reading, I want to inform you that the school system I write about here is not the American one since I know little to nothing about it. Instead I’ll be using the one of my country for reasons of simplicity. (All names I use here are invented, so you can place the events wherever you’d like.) I thought about doing a long for this plot but I chose to write a one shot instead, since it’s pretty long I decided to divide it into two acts, the second one is coming very soon. I studied and read the whole play translated in my original language, that’s where the inspiration for my au came from. All the English translations I used for the play are from here, here and here. The song mentioned is So Contagious by Acceptance. That being said, hope you enjoy!

✾✾✾✾

What now?

It was during an October’s Tuesday that Virgil had started panicking due to school stress.

It wasn’t like his teachers hadn’t been pressuring his class ever since they entered their first fifth year lesson: partly because of the final exams, the rest of the time they asked about their university choices.

This year’s archaeological excavation, an experience reserved only to the students of his course, was also placed exactly in those three weeks of October were the theater group had started.

Tuesday in October for Virgil meant lessons until half past midday, research for the upcoming excavation exhibition until two p.m., theater club for an hour, then back to doing research with one of his teachers and half of his classmates until 17:00.

In all honesty, he wouldn’t have minded being buried alive when they’d have to cover back up the site.

Virgil had tried convincing himself that it wasn’t really that hard, besides the club had just started and the first few days were mostly focused on helping the first years settle, be comfortable with the teachers and also test out their abilities. And this one was only the second meeting.

But, of course, his day had to get worse. Life was trying him, and boy, did he hate sudden drastic changes.

It was when he noticed all the odd attention he was getting by the teachers that he realized something was definitely going to go wrong.

Everyone took a seat on the wooden bleachers of the old gym, they were basically attached to the pavement and the obnoxious yellow-painted walls of the large room. A quick glance around and you had the feeling that everything was going to collapse at any moment.

Virgil saw some familiar faces, some new ones, but he definitely couldn’t forget about the regulars: his beloved stage deseign group, which were a bunch of students that the teacher trusted him enough to take care of and teach them what they had to do during shows and how to prepare the stage. And next to them some actors from the last three years, Dave, Bonnie, Lukas and Roman.

He and Roman were the only ones brave enough to stick around even during the toughest year of that hellhole, so everyone silently respected them. And just as much as Virgil helped the newcomers in his group, Roman was happy to lend a hand in acting along side the most talented fourth and third years above mentioned.

« Well hello and welcome back here, guys! » Mrs. Michaelis had started, clasping her hands together, she was an English grammar and literature teacher.

After making sure everybody had arrived, they explained that since the week after they were going to see the first years’ “auditions” as they liked to call them, but they were really simply methods to check how promising someone could be at acting.

« I know this may sound shocking, we still can’t believe it- »

« Mostly because normally it takes us a couple of months before choosing a script. » Mrs. Eagan, an ancient Greek and Latin teacher, had interrupted, causing multiple chuckles from the students.

« … As I was saying, yes. We already know the play that we’ll be covering this year, we also have scripts ready for almost everybody. But there’s some news! »

« This year we decided to sign up our group and participate to some kind of challenge! » murmurs began to fill the room, as uneasiness set in Virgil’s stomach. Why make things harder for everybody? Wasn’t it just as good doing a simple show one night and one morning?

« Some, let’s say, “judges” are going to attend our play and afterwards, if they’re satisfied enough, they will let us take our production to the biggest local theater! »

The murmurs transformed into gasps, that theater was placed in the city of their province, getting an invitation was a huge challenge.

« And our play is going to be … » Mrs. Eagan’s eyes met Virgil’s and fixated on them. That’s when he began overthinking. Why was she looking directly at him? That never meant good news. « … Euripides’ tragedy, The Bacchantes. »

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Only his eyes widened among the confused looks of most of the students. He had studied that play, along side many other ones, in his fourth year. He did truly love them, but damn him if they weren’t already a challenge to portray.

« That’s right Virgil, you know it. » why was also the English teacher giving him his attention? What were they planning, did he have to explain the play to everybody?

All the students turned to face him, some quietly asking what was the plot, some fourth years of his same course demanded to know if it was a difficult topic.

« Easy now, everybody, he’s already been tested last year by Mr. Richardson. » one of the teachers interrupted, walking closer to the spot where Virgil sat, for some reason he had found himself next to the “talented actors group”.

They explained the plot for everybody after that.

« We know it might be real tough, so this year we already agreed on the roles beforehand. Don’t worry, if you didn’t get your time to shine this year, in the next ones you totally will. »

Wait, he wasn’t part of the actors group, why did this have anything to do with him? Why were they still staring at him?

To his relief, the teachers addressed the newcomers first. « We were thinking about giving the role of the chorus to the first and second years, they have long bits, but we can split them instead of making you all recite them, so that you don’t feel too burdened and the role becomes easy for all of you. »

« The roles of the messengers will be given to our third years, messengers are used to explain everything that happens that does not happen on scene. One of the rules for tragedies was that the scene had to take place in the same time and place. Also, they didn’t show blood and/or murders/suicides on scene. They were all narrated. »

« As for our three fourth years. » they looked over Virgil’s shoulder to Dave, Lukas and Bonnie. « Your roles will be Cadmus, Tiresias and Agave. They play a very important part in the whole story, we trust you’ll do a great job. »

« As for our main characters, Pentheus and Dionysus … » they set their eyes on Roman, who looked more expectant than ever.

But then they also shifted their glances to Virgil.

« We were thinking our only fifth years could have their roles as a good way of saying goodbye to them, since this will be their last play. » everybody else was nodding in agreement, Roman was beaming but slightly confused. Wasn’t Virgil part of the stage design group?

In fact, our little emo kid could only look back in disbelief.

« Roman, Virgil, would you like to become a king and a god, respectively? »

What now?

As the beloved actor was about to answer, Virgil interrupted with a shy apology. « I’m sorry, but there must be a mistake, I’m not part of the actors group, I’ve never acted in the past four years, actually. »

« We know Virgil, but we really thought it might be such a nice way of thanking you guys for your contributions all these years. »

Oh yes, you’re right, putting me in a stress condition by making me do something I have no idea about for a big project that could take us to one of the largest theaters of the country is definitely the best choice you could have made.

All he was able to say was a stuttering noise, as they continued with their little speech. « And Roman is such a good actor, he’s going to help you for sure, aren’t you? »

The mentioned boy nodded vigorously, then proceeded to show one of his brightest smiles. « I always come to the rescue of my fellow actors in need. »

Yeah. Amazing. He was stuck with their decision.

« Besides you already probably know each other pretty well by now, so it won’t be a problem! »

The two students looked at each other. The recognizable expressions of two teens that, despite being in the same year and club, had never said a single word to each other apart from when needed during rehearsals.

« … Right. »

« But what about my group then? » Virgil questioned, he was definitely not going to leave them behind just like that.

« You don’t have to worry about them. This year your History of Art teacher will be lending a hand with the stage and volunteered to be the head of the group. »

Right. Mr. Williams, one of the only teachers that were pretty tolerable in his class.

« And look at them. » he did so, and he was met with happy smiles and encouraging faces. « I’m sure they’ll do a good job after four years with you by their side. Right, Anastasia? »

Anastasia was one of the oldest of the bunch, if not one of the wisest and most skilled, sometimes they wondered if she could just do anything that crossed her mind. « You got it! » she leaned in as if to get closer to the older boy. « We’ll be cheering for you Virge! » she concluded, followed by a couple of “Yeah!“s.

Everybody was so joyful and expectant that he couldn’t help but comply, so he decided to simply sigh and reply with nothing.

As the teachers continued with their topics for the meeting, Virgil couldn’t help but have a single thought in his mind.

This is going to be the most awkward thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.

✾✾✾✾

As soon as the meeting came to an end, Virgil was fast to get up and rush towards the dungeon’s stairs that would lead again to the surface. Basically there were two buildings, the school and the gym, linked by a little dungeon were there were all the labs and computer rooms.

He had to get back to the library as soon as he could, or god knows what “you’re late” speech his teacher would have given him. He was always literally on the verge of marking his students as absent if they didn’t show up to the lesson in the exact minute before the bell rang.

Virgil decided to panic about the dumpster fire that had come his way during the meeting after that. One issue at a time. First of all, he had to reach the stairs’ gate and push-

« Hey! Wait for me. »

God, he didn’t have time for this. He kept walking, ignoring the voice behind him and hoping for it to give up and leave him to his well-deserved peace and quiet. At least for three minutes.

As he walked, he found none but Roman himself matching his pace and walking by his side with a curious look. Who could blame him for wanting to be nice?

« You forgot your stuff in your classroom too? » he tried, not a brilliant starter for a conversation, but he had to get something out of the boy.

« No. » cut and dry, that was the only thing that Virgil dared to let escape his mouth.

« Where to, then? »

« The library. »

« Oh, are you waiting for a bus? Maybe I could keep you company. »

« Listen. » they made to a stop as they reached the last floor, not that far off from Virgil’s destination. « Today’s already been as stressful as it is, could you just … go straight to the point? I don’t have much time here. »

It was not like he had meant to sound rude, it wasn’t like it was his purpose either to brush off someone just like that or to see the other boy’s hurt expression. But he had reached a limit in which he didn’t really care-

« Oh, my apologies, then. »

And there was the guilt.

« I was just wondering if we could exchange numbers, if it isn’t uncomfortable for you. I guess we’ll need to hang out in the future. » he tried to sound as confident as he could, but it was as if “awkward” was scribbled all over his face.

« Sure, are you asking me on a date next? » with all the sarcasm injected in his words, he sure as hell wasn’t expecting Roman’s remark.

« Well, if you wouldn’t mind. » a sly smile made its way through the actor’s face, but was soon replaced by a troubled expression when he saw Virgil’s eye roll and sigh.

« Was I … was I too straightforward? I didn’t- »

« You’re fine, calm down. » Virgil quickly took out his phone and unlocked it before passing it to the other student. As he quietly typed after a murmured “alright”, Virgil couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever upset anyone with his bold statements. It wasn’t like this town was open minded, while he seemed … particularly flamboyant.

Before he could finish his thoughts, he had his phone back in his hands and the not-so-much-stranger-anymore was already heading towards his classroom to get his backpack.

« I sent myself a message. » he warned, then he disappeared and reappeared in a matter of seconds, marched down the hall and flashed him a toothy smile while waving his hand.

« Don’t be a stranger, I’ll see you tomorrow! »

Virgil only nodded and found it impossible to take his eyes off of him until the last lock of hair had vanished down the stairs, wondering what had just happened. Maybe that was the magic that worked on his public every year.

He gave a rapid look at the screen of his phone, noticing that the boy had saved himself as “Princey” with a star emoji right next to it.

This time, he entered the library with an amused expression.

✾✾✾✾

Roman kept repeating in his mind that it wasn’t his fault.

Yes, it was Firday. Yes, he had gone the rest of the days without a single word to Virgil, not even when he noticed him in the halls during break or when they either entered or left school. Some days he didn’t even see him.

Yes, he could have texted him. But it felt too weird, yet, they didn’t know each other at all! Plus they didn’t even have the script ready.

Yes, he felt like he had the weight of this play’s success completely on his shoulders and depending on him and still shied away from acknowledging it.

But Virgil kept avoiding him! He couldn’t do much without him.

If he saw him during the ten minutes break, Virgil would walk past him without a second thought as if he didn’t think he needed to talk to him.

Some other times he pretended he didn’t even see him. It was getting tough to even have his attention anymore, as if he had to be added to the mean girls table. He needed a miracle.

And maybe the deities were in his favor that day.

As Roman walked down the path that was made next to the plaza, he noticed a familiar little figure sitting on a bench with a backpack next to him and earbuds in his ears. He was watching in front of him as life flew by and didn’t notice Roman approaching at all.

« Virgil? »

The boy in front of him jerked his head up and took out both of his earbuds; his clothes looked much more worn and randomly put together, as if he had dressed himself in the dark. What got Roman the most was the quantity of dirt that was on them and … was that blood under some of his nails?

Roman dropped his bag on the bench, worry expanding in his chest. « Oh my goodness are you okay? » he made to reach for his hand, only to stop himself just in time to remind him of personal space.

Virgil gave him a confused look and brought his fingers to his eyes, close enough to examine them. « Not again. » he groaned, a huff coming out of his lips.

« Wait, I should have something. »

« You don’t have to, it’s noth- »

« Here! » Roman grabbed a box from his bag triumphantly, he took a couple of plasters and waved them in front of the other.

« Why do you even have so many? »

« What can I say, I’m a clumsy person. »

« Mh. Charming. »

« At least I rescued you! Now, show me your hands. » he ordered, but as soon as he saw Virgil’s mouth open to argue, he was ready to remark « I don’t care if you can do this by yourself, you have literally injured fingers, let me help. »

Seeing that there was no other way out of it, he complied.

As soon as he placed his hands over his fingers, Roman couldn’t help but notice how different their skin tones really were compared to one another, sure the difference was obvious at first glance, but seeing it this close was completely something else. He gently dabbed the fresh blood away with a tissue he had taken out with the box a few instants earlier.

Three plasters and a thank you later, the concerned face came back again and Virgil wanted nothing more than the sweet liberation of death. What was his deal, did he never dig on dirt as a child?

« How did you get hurt? »

Virgil simply pointed behind his shoulders, where Roman could only see a huge pile of dirt resting against a tree. He tilted his head to the side like a confused puppy, a sight the other would have found endearing if only he wasn’t so exasperated and tired.

« I’ve been working all day, Princey. »

Roman smiled at the familiar nickname, but still found confusion in his thoughts. « Aren’t you supposed to be at school? »

« It’s linked to school. Haven’t you heard of the excavations that our school is doing? »

Now that he mentioned that, he had heard a bunch of things, but never really paid attention since it was something that wasn’t related to his course.

Roman attended the Languages course, in which he could learn Spanish and French, other than his mother language, with literature comprehended, and all the experiences linked to it were the cultural exchanges during the third and fourth years.

Virgil, otherwise, was part of the Classical course, meaning that he had signed his death certificate by committing to five years of learning ancient Greek and Latin plus the respective literature as main subjects. But other than that and the famous one week school trip to Greece every three years, Roman had no clue what they did other than study until they couldn’t remember their own names, just like any other student.

Yeah, they couldn’t say their school system was perfect.

« I don’t exactly know every detail. Are you guys doing this? »

« Kind of. What we’re doing is carry on with the work we did the past two years, where we had opened other excavations. Let’s say we’re looking for clues. We’re supervised by an actual archaeologist though. »

« That’s so cool! Did you find any gold? » Virgil wasn’t really expecting such excitement coming from Roman. Apart from the all too familiar question, he often found his interlocutors to be pretty uninterested by the topic.

« No gold, but … remember last Tuesday? » Roman nodded attentively.

« On that morning, during one of Mr. Richardson’s lessons, one of our classmates video-called us saying there was an urgent matter to show us. They had found possibly a Roman coin. » he tried to bite back the smile that threatened to form on his lips at the joyful memory, but nothing could take away that particular twinkle in his eyes.

« Are you serious?! That’s wonderful, what if you find a hidden treasure? »

« Unlikely, but it would be nice. »

« Wow. » Roman breathed out, staring at the scene beside his … new acquaintance? « How did you hurt yourself, anyway? »

« See that pile of dirt? I’ve been scanning every bucket full of soil that was thrown in there. My job was searching in the dirt for possible relics that were missed out while others did the digging. We installed a little assembly line. And running your fingers through that for hours makes you sore I guess. »

« That doesn’t seem very fun, though. »

Virgil shrugged. « I didn’t mind. I like working by myself, especially when the job is as simple as it is important. » And it was true, it wasn’t like the archaeologist put him there because he was just hopeless with the other instruments, every little clue was important and looking for them was a crucial point that can be easily taken care of if you’re a perfectionist.

Plus, the archaeologist seemed to have taken a liking into Virgil, so that didn’t make him feel left out at all.

« Even though, today one of my classmates came to help me. » the boy turned to see that Roman was still listening to him, with no intention of changing the subject. That was new, too.

« You know those terribly annoying ones? He slowed down our chain to the point that he had to argue with this girl that was in dire need of empty buckets while we still had all of them full because he wanted to look through every inch of dirt before handing it out. » he let out a deep sigh, as if he had just been venting for hours.

« That was pretty idiotic, what happened then? »

« Uh, well, we went back to working, just as I was doing before he came to help. »

Roman snorted, imagining the scene in front of his eyes. « So he made a fuss only for it to go back as before and prove him wrong. I’d say he’s pretty amazing. »

« Yeah. » Virgil agreed, « Anyway, sorry for rambling. » he added in a lower tone, while checking his phone for notification, before putting it away quickly.

Roman arched his eyebrow at his words. « As someone who whines constantly, I don’t really think you should worry. »

At least, that succeeded to steal a chuckle from the tired one.

« Did you find anything? » Virgil was really starting to believe this guy couldn’t have a minute of pure silence.

« Well, there’s always a couple of bones, some weird ferric objects, teeth and … » he stopped, remembering the event of the week before.

This time, a wide smile appeared before he could stop it as he searched through his phone’s camera gallery; it was the one thing he was real proud of, possibly the prettiest of his findings.

He handed the phone over to Roman, whose eyes widened at the sight, in front of him he could see a pic of a piece of ceramic with white, brown, yellow and blue decorations, dirt was still covering it, but you could already make out how beautiful it was.

« You found this in here? »

« Yes, it was amazing. I was standing there, » he pointed to a vague direction in front of the dirt pile, excitement rising in his chest as he remembered. « and someone was throwing the dirt on the pile and I recognized the bottom of the piece. We had already found other ceramics and I was hoping it was one too. So I picked it up as soon as I spotted it and there were at least three inches of dirt on top. I moved it away with my thumb and I was met with that decoration. I think I might have yelled. » he leaned in to take another look at the pic, as if never satisfied with it.

Roman certainly didn’t miss how bright he appeared when he was talking about the excavation, all the tiredness was gone and the pain in his whole body caused by eight hours of work was long forgotten. He looked genuinely happy, a contrast to his unusual dark and broody persona.

« Did you choose you university yet? » he had a thought, while handing the phone back, which could have maybe helped the injured boy.

« Jumping a bit? Uh, no, honestly I have no idea. »

« Ever thought of doing something with archaeology? »

« Uhm … » Virgil tapped his fingers on his palm. It wasn’t like he hadn’t considered the possibility in the past, but he had been told that it was probably too hard and maybe too boring from his point of view. On the other hand he truly enjoyed working in the site …

« You still with me, buddy? You don’t have to choose in the next five minutes. »

« Shut up, I was thinking. »

« Your thinking is too loud. »

« And here I was considering you as actually not that bad. »

« I know you secretly admire me. »

« The important thing is you believe that. »

Their wise and profound conversation was interrupted by Virgil’s ringtone going off, he picked up, had a brief talk and tucked the phone away in his pocket.

« My mother’s arrived to pick me up. » he informed, pointing at a car parked a few feet away from them.

They both stood up, but none of them made to move at all.

« Uh, I was thinking … » Roman struggled to find the right words, as if anything he said might offend Virgil at any given moment. « I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but maybe we could meet up sometimes to talk about the play? Or I could start helping you as soon as we get the scripts. »

Virgil made a face, as if he had been trying to forget a bad nightmare and had just been reminded of it. Still, he had no right to escape that any further, and he was already anxious about not being able to make it in time, even before he could start learning his lines. So maybe starting to work on it sooner wasn’t that bad of an idea.

« Sounds good. » he hesitated, not sure how to continue, when an idea sparked in his mind. « Maybe I could give you some insight on the tragedy. »

« That’d be awesome! When are you free? »

Hah. « During week-days I’m busy until five p.m. everyday. At least for another week, when this project will be over. »

That explained why he was still in town at almost six p.m.

« You guys dig everyday? »

« Something like that. We’re divided into two groups and we dig every other day. When we don’t we still have to stay at school and do researches for the final exhibition. »

Roman’s eyes lit up at the last words, he was going to ask him about it the next time the occasion presented itself.

« That sucks. Okay, look, I don’t wanna steal anymore time from your beloved mother, so I’ll text about it to you later, okay? »

« Cool. » Virgil raised his hand and waved it ever so slightly.

Roman returned the good-bye and got back to his task, marching down the sidewalk, but as Virgil had just opened the door of his mother’s car, he remembered to yell “And don’t forget to get some rest, I’m starting to confuse your makeup with your dark circles!”.

Virgil got into the car with an exasperated sigh and found his mother giggling to herself while she looked at him.

« Was that a friend? »

« God I hope not. »

✾✾✾✾

Tuesday came back in a hurry, along with the theater club, some worried and some bored students. Virgil stood in the middle of “time to panic and/or cry” and “if I don’t fall into eternal slumber right now I will burn this building to the ground”.

If he could name some of the most atrocious backstabbers he had ever met, he’d instantly name his teachers: at first they told his class they’d make it easy for them since they were so busy with the project, now they pretended the students had to be more organized with their studying and homework. Tests and interrogations had been made despite them being at least nine hours at school instead of five, some even coming home later than that.

In a word, they didn’t care, it was the students’ fault.

Virgil had his back against the wall, sitting on the top step of the bleacher with his legs close to his chest, the meeting had been starting for a couple of minutes and, of course, he didn’t have anything to do except hating himself and wait for another uneventful hour to pass.

« Hey Gerard Way Too Dark, look what they gave me. »

Or maybe not.

Virgil looked up to be met with Roman standing in front of him with two binders in his hand: the two of them had agreed on meeting up only when school would let them breathe enough to find a single day where they were both free from studying. Which was yet to be a thing.

The beloved actor handed him one of the binders, it read the title of the play, the author and the characters. He didn’t like how his role was the very first one on the list.

« At last. » he dryly commented, flipping the pages quick enough to not read a single actual word out of it.

Roman sat down next to him and examined the first page, as if looking for some kind of unspoken treasure, then he turned to take out a stash of highlighters Virgil had no clue where he kept. He showed them to him, waiting for him to pick a color.

By the looks of them, they seemed brand new and neatly arranged in the colors of the rainbow. Virgil picked out the lilac one, he had always preferred the gentler colors, it made it easier to study with the lights on.

His colleague chose the red one and began going through the pages and highlighting all the lines he had to learn as Pentheus.

Silently, Virgil did the same with the lines Dionysus said, recalling the scenes as he went through them. Though … he noticed there were far too many. He never realized how impossible it looked in his eyes until he had it plainly laid out in front of him.

Great, you’re going to mess this up, you won’t ever be able to do this in time. Plus you’re probably going to forget everything the moment right before going on stage. Who thought this was going to be a good id-

« Are you okay down there? »

He didn’t realize he was rubbing at his face with his hands, while trying to shake off the storm forming in his mind. In doing so, he had also let the marker fall to the wooden step with a clatter, which caught the other’s attention.

« Yeah, ’m just tired. » he managed to let out through his fingers in a muffled sound.

Roman made a humming noise, then proceeded to cast aside all his stuff and let himself relax against the wall. « Then I’d say we call it a day and sleep until it’s time to part ways. »

Virgil looked at him, surprise written all over his face, wasn’t he supposed to work even harder than normal because of the occasion? Either way, he mirrored the boy, pulling up his hood so that he could find some comfort.

« I think I’m too worried about all this mess, » he retorted, gesturing at his script. « to be able to even close my eyes. »

« Then tell me about it. »

He considered the option, he did actually promise him he’d do it before, besides he’d be distracting himself from the impending doom, be actually productive and explaining the tragedy to the actor. A double win for both parties.

« The story is centered around this group of Bacchantes that came from Asia and want to enter Thebes and spread their cult, they’re also guided by a lone nomad that none knows is actually Dionysus, the founder of the cult itself. » he turned to face Roman, in a silent “tell me where I lose you” manner.

« They are stopped by Pentheus, now king of the city, son of Agave and nephew of Cadmus, the founder of Thebes. Tiresias is a famous seer that understands the potential of the cult and invites Cadmus to preach the god with him. They try to reason with Pentheus, but it’s all in vain. In the meantime, while this king is busy insulting the cult, Dionysus makes all the women of the city go mad and follow the Maenads. »

« Payback? »

« More like first warning. » Virgil counted to one on his right hand for emphasis. « After that, Pentheus sent his soldiers to capture him. And they succeeded, he didn’t resist and kept up his act, only to free himself of the chains thanks to his magic. When Pentheus found him, Dionysus pretended he was helped by the god and began charming him until the king gave in. »

« You mean, how he made him dress up as a Maenad? »

« Yes, but not only he did that, he drove him crazy, too. » did anyone else ever notice the slight green spots in Roman’s brown eyes or was it just the trick of the light? Virgil couldn’t tell, so he decided to explain further. « Pentheus claimed to be seeing double and having hallucinations. He was also very careful of his clothes, hair and posture, he wanted to be the perfect Maenad. He tried to convince himself it was for disguise purposes, but in my opinion he was rather enjoying that dress-up. »

« Really? » Roman questioned, he still had to look into his character, the more he knew about him, the better he could portray him. He always took every bit of information he could find, to the point in which he could somehow relate to them or at least be able to link him and the role. That way, he was able to love acting as every single one of them.

« You need to read their last conversation. Even you would say that at first glance. Anyway, the play ends with the Bacchantes shredding to pieces the body of Pentheus. The practice is called “sparagmòs”. After that Agave and Cadmus have a touching scene and it ends there. A bit shocking for her since she just killed her son, but the god made sure the women all saw a beast instead. »

« That’s cruel, though. »

« Princey, he disrespected a fucking god, dying is the least that could happen to him. »

There was the nickname again. And, as if on cue, Roman’s lips twitched into a small smile that disappeared right after. He wasn’t aware of the reason why he didn’t want to get caught, but … did Virgil really not remember?

« He didn’t give him a chance to apologize! »

« Then again, the cult of the Bacchantes includes a ritual where a human needs to be sacrificed. If he had ever been sorry, Dionysus would have probably ordered him to sacrifice himself so that he could be satisfied and purified by his action. »

« Okay, okay. » Roman put his hands up in surrender. « I recognize I’m talking to a smart one over here, I give up. » he pretended he was waving a white flag to his side.

Virgil chuckled at his words. « I’m actually just average, but I can be passionate about some things, too. »

« Just average? I doubt all of your classmates still remember the entire plot of a tragedy and also can provide conspiracy theories. »

« Conspiracy- what are you talking about? »

« You know I’m right, you were totally on the verge of geeking out about this one. C'mon who’s your favorite character? » the actor mocked resting his face on his palms while a sly expression surrounded him.

« I will throw you off the stairs the next chance I have. »

« Good luck with that since you can’t even reach. »

Oh that was the last fucking straw.

Virgil turned his head to look at him in the eyes so rapidly that Roman feared his neck would give in and break right then and there. But the most disturbing image was the rage that was forming around the boy’s aura.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t the wisest thing to-

Virgil surged forward in a sudden movement and the actor jumped away pleading for salvation, it was only when he heard a foreign laugh that he turned around only to be met with the same dark and stormy guy, doubled over himself with laughter, teasing Roman.

« Did you seriously think I was going to attack you? »

« You can be scary sometimes, shut up! » heat began running in Roman’s cheeks out of embarrassment and he pretended nothing happened while Virgil quieted down next to him.

It was exactly in that moment that the meeting was called off.

As Roman followed him to the library, he wondered if that was going to be a regular thing after-

You idiot, this is the last week of your project.

« Oh, by the way. » Virgil stopped at the top of the stairs. « Don’t take it personally if I brush you off or disappear for the next few days, but the exhibition’s coming and I still have no idea what to say. »

« Talking about efficiency. » the actor rolled his eyes, recalling a few other examples he could give on the marvelous organization of teachers.

« Yeah, our teacher gave us tons of useful information. » he dead-panned, approaching the library’s doors.

« I will forever respect you for putting up with Mr. Richardson. »

That was able to get a chuckle out of Virgil.

« See you around, Pentheus. »

And with that, Roman was left walking home by himself with the warm feeling of having made a new possible friend spreading in his chest.

✾✾✾✾

It was Saturday morning when he noticed the fliers hanging around school. They showed a bunch of excavation pics and the subject of an archaeological exhibition centered around the school’s town. Roman took note of the date: it was exactly that same day!

So that was how he found himself during afternoon pacing around the plaza and stepping into an old tower, where a little crowd of at least fifteen people of all ages were standing and listening attentively to a student. There was only a little group of them, which he figured was because the exhibition took place multiple times during the week.

He just wondered if he had been lucky enough to find …

As he made his way through the front, so that he could see all the materials and boards exposed he heard the female voice say « Now I will turn it over to my classmate, Virgil! »

As soon as he heard his name, he followed her gaze and finally met an unusual sight: instead of the usual hoodie, he wore a black button up shirt and skinny dark blue jeans that might as well have been mistaken for the same other color. So he did know how to be fancy if he wanted.

Before he began explaining, he noticed Roman standing right next to their theater teachers and bit back a smile. He didn’t recall inviting him, actually he hadn’t wanted anyone he knew to witness him mess everything up as he was used to do. So what was he doing there?

Virgil welcomed everybody once again, then turned over to all the materials exposed.

And when he started talking, Roman was enthralled.

He didn’t know if it was the way the words rolled down his tongue, how he brushed the objects as if they were sacred treasures that would turn into dust at the slightest touch, or the sparkle in his eyes when he took in everybody’s attention and curiosity.

But there was a thing he did recognize: it was passion, that was definitely what he was radiating, the one emotion he knew all too well which helped him getting his public hanging at the edge of their seats.

And this time, he was the hooked one.

The two locked eyes multiple times, Virgil was surprised enough to find comfort in having someone to constantly smile at him, or in Mrs. Eagan’s nodding, in all those mouthed “you’re doing great”. He couldn’t stop going back at them everytime he looked up.

Before anyone knew it, his time was over and the group moved onto the last part of the exhibition, which was outside; the crowd followed the last student to the site that was still open and the remaining students in the room sighed with relief as Mr. Richardson followed them too for the final thanks.

Some minutes and a standing ovation later, Roman was already back into the small room as bright as ever, walking toward his favorite little archaeologist.

Virgil paced towards him at the same time, hissing a “what are you doing here?” while a small grin let itself spread on his face.

With no warning and an abrupt move, Roman’s arms had already wrapped themselves around the other boy’s upper chest, lifting him a little in the process.

Well, that was definitely new.

Not being used to such excitement, Virgil was only able to awkwardly return the hug after an initial moment of vacillation. Seeing his energy on stage was a thing, experiencing it like that was completely something else, but deep in his heart he knew it wasn’t a habit he wouldn’t have liked to adapt to.

Wait, what was that thought coming from? Why would he have to adapt to anything, he was just going to help him through acting and that was it.

Still, a new friend wasn’t a bad idea either …

« You did amazing! » was what Virgil heard after being released from the embrace, but not quite completely as Roman was still holding onto his arms.

He blinked a few times. « What are you talking about, I messed up and started stuttering at one point- »

« Oh shut up and let me compliment you, I didn’t even remember you did, king of modesty. »

« More like king of self-deprecation. »

« Can you stop for once in your life? »

Right in the short amount of time they weren’t talking, a single line caught their attention.

« Look at all this trash. »

What?

« Yeah, these are all so obviously fake. »

Thunderstorms.

Thunderstorms and lightning, howls of rage formed in Virgil’s chest, burning in a bonfire which heat traveled through his blood and reached his eyes only to darken them with fury.

His body stiffened, he wanted to scowl at them and tell them how wrong they were, just how dare them invalidate all the hard work of three weeks?

« Oh, Virgil! » Roman seemed to distract him, but he had a plan in mind as he moved both of them close to the materials table. « Remember that day I visited you while you guys were digging? »

But there wasn’t any- was he onto something? « Oh, yeah, you were walking home from school and you decided to stop. » he played along, as his friend nodded, making sure to be heard by the rude couple.

In the meantime, one of the students had gone out to update their teacher on the situation.

« Yeah, when you found that beautiful ceramic piece! » Roman turned to recognize the piece he had seen in the pic he had been shown, then pointed it. « Is it that one? »

« Yes, I can pick it up for you. » Virgil did so as he spoke.

« Wow, it’s even more gorgeous. »

« We had a hard time cleaning everything, so we tried to do the best job we could. Getting dirt out of bones is also … not super easy. »

« You guys are awesome. » Roman kept glancing around the room arranged for the exhibition, while the now embarrassed couple decided to leave under the incinerating stare of Mr. Richardson who had just came in to witness the situation.

Everybody in the room went to either grin or laugh inside, while the two boys shared a high five.

After making sure everything was under control, the teacher decided to begin cleaning up the place, so all the guests that stayed to chatter were dismissed.

« Hey, uh … » Virgil struggled to get out his voice, a little for being tired, a little because in moments of shyness his tone would go out as nothing more than a simple mutter. « Thank you for earlier and … also for coming, I guess. »

« Both of them were my utter pleasure. » Roman had a thing for being extra, and if he chose that aesthetic, he better had to stick to it by doing a theatrical bow at his friend.

« You are a nerd. »

« With style! »

« Whatever helps you sleep at night. » Virgil turned around to face the tower and began walking away. « See you around, Princey. »

There went another one.

Roman had to giggle quietly to himself, every single time his mind traveled to that one particular moment back in the first year when-

« You know, this is what I was talking about. »

He felt a presence walking by his side, suddenly, and found Mr. Eagan glaring at him with an almost nostalgic look.

« I’ve been telling him for years that he has the acting potential. » she sighed while Roman simply nodded along. « He’s been getting better, you see this isn’t the first exhibition they do, I’ve seen them all. »

« Oh, really? »

« Yes. And you can totally sense how much emotion he’s putting, you can tell he’s invested. »

« I agree, I’ve had the occasion to see that. »

« And honestly I feel bad for forcing him into this play thing … but I’m sure he’s going to shine. I’m so proud of him. » she smiled at herself, then stopped in her tracks and looked up at her student. « And I’m also sure you’ll do a good job. Bring out his talent, Roman. In your own special way. »

He remained speechless for a moment, just how much trust did these teachers actually have in both of them? He found it endearing, he felt almost as if they had some kind of motherly appreciation towards them.

« Thank you. We’ll work very hard on this one, you’ll see! »

They exchanged their farewells and Roman headed home, this time by himself, having all kinds of thoughts in his mind.

But most of all, he felt worried.

All of a sudden, it seemed like a blank page was being replaced in his head instead of all the knowledge apprehended through his life.

He had no idea how to start helping Virgil.

✾✾✾✾

Despite the initial awkwardness, things had begun to go way better than both of them had imagined. The occasional staying late after the theater meetings had allowed them to grow closer, so much that they at least shared a few words during break every day at school. And that was a huge effort for Virgil as he preferred to stay in class where almost none hanged around and simply scroll through his phone, waiting for the last two dreadful hours of lessons.

And, well, random texts weren’t late to arrive to the party, too.

Princey: okay but can we talk about what an idiot Pentheus is?

Vee: this is a weird midnight text to get, but go off I guess

Princey: I’m serious! Come on, like why don’t you just let people do their thingsss

Vee: Oh you’re taking this to heart, alright

Princey: Yeah?? Am I not supposed to be emotionally invested in my own play?

Vee: You’re talking as if you’ve written it

Princey: Maybe I did

Vee: gasp are you Euripides reincarnated

Princey: The one and only

Vee: My apologies sir, you have all the rights to whine about your own plot

Vee: I also have no clue how you know english

Princey: It’s the muses’ power!

Vee: Melpomene?

Princey: Bless you

Vee: Wow okay, go to sleep

Princey: Sleep is for the weak

Vee: And you’re gonna be weak in the morning so it really doesn’t matter

Princey: Alright, mum, why would you stay up then?

Vee: Reasons

Princey: Are you still scrolling through Tumblr and sticking to your natural emo kid persona?

Vee: ouch

Vee: no,  but I’d love to

Princey: mhh then you forgot to do homework or study?

Vee: You know me, I’m too anxious about my parents’ judgment to do that

Princey: demanding parents?

Vee: sorta.

Princey: sore topic?

Vee: Yup.

Princey: Alright then, you’re watching a movie? An anime?

Vee: No, I’m just talking to an idiot who won’t go to sleep

Princey: Oh I see, sounds like a total badass guy fighting the system

Vee: Yeah, fighting his body’s shut down system if he doesn’t get enough sleep.

Princey: bold of you to say that when we’re in the same situation

Vee: listen we’re talking about you stay focused

Princey: you know I’m right

Princey: C'mon why are you still up

Vee: no reason tbh

Vee: I just can’t seem to fall asleep so I’m tyring myself out until I can pass out on my bed

Princey: thaaat doesn’t seem very healthy

Vee: I never said I wanted to take care of myself

Princey: LOVE  YOURSELF BITCH

Vee: HAH

Vee: no.

Princey: i will make you!!

Princey: one day we’ll have a big relaxation day and you will be able to see the beauty in yourself!!

Vee: sounds unrealistic i’m in

Princey: come on work with me emo nightmare

Vee: i’m too lazy to live i’m sorry

Princey: then why don’t you just s l e e p

Vee: bc my sleep schedule is a mess and i cant seem to even shut my eyes everything in my life is going straight in the trash can and uhhhhhh yeah everything sucks

Princey: woah slow down

Princey: okay look you’re having me a bit concerned here

Vee: haha no it’s the usual daily stuff for me

Princey: ……….. it shouldn’t be????

Vee: eh

Princey: hey, would you answer if I called you?

Vee: if this is because of what i’ve just said, you’re worrying too much

Princey: nah it’s just for a distraction

Princey: and maybe you’ll be able to fall asleep

Vee: are you implying your voice is boring or you want to sing me a lullaby?

Princey: i’ll pretend i didn’t read the first part but i’ll have you know i have a very beautiful singing voice

Vee: pf alright i’m not entirely convinced

Princey: i’ll buy both of us coffee at the vending machine tomorrow morning before the first lesson starts

Vee: okay i’m sold, hit me up

✾✾✾✾

« This is unacceptable! I’m sorry, our friendship has to end here, I’m leaving. »

« I’m telling you, I have my reasons. »

« You can’t just simply dislike Hercules! »

Virgil sighed in defeat and resigned in his plastic seat; Christmas holidays had been around for a week, new year’s was already approaching and two youngsters had decided to spend an afternoon together with the excuse of reading some lines out of their scripts and helping each other out.

It wasn’t really the first time they did that, plus with the arrival of winter it was a nice excuse to be comforted by a warm cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream.

Just like they were doing in that moment, only that it seemed that they had completely forgotten about the play because of how much they were invested in other topics. Such as, obviously, Disney movies.

« It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just … so wrong. »

« Oh my- it’s not Percy Jackson, it’s Disney, they’re allowed to take some creative liberties. »

« I know, but I didn’t watch it as a child, I saw it recently- »

« How dare you. »

« -shut up. What I mean is: my studies have ruined its likability. »

Roman closed his eyes and put his hands together in front of his face in an exasperated manner. « Then let’s hear these freaking reasons, enlighten my blindness, o wise one! »

Virgil couldn’t help but smirk as the other one huffed. « First of all, thank you for the compliment. »

« But, see, the first thing that got me was the character of Phil. The actual Philoctetes wasn’t a satyr, he was a hero that fought in the Trojan war who also happened to be Hercules’ friend at some point. »

« Well, they were linked in the end! »

« Let me finish. All the deeds that Phil claimed to have made? All those heroes he trained? Bullshit. Everything was done by Chiron, the only wise and composed centaur of greek mythology. And like centaurs were thought as savage beasts, satyrs were always linked to Dionysus and described as libidinal creatures. Philoctetes would have probably felt insulted. »

« Your studies may have ruined your view but you’re ruining my childhood right now. » Roman muttered the words as a childish pout formed on his lips.

« Ah, also Megara was a city, not a person. » said Virgil with nonchalance.

« WHAT. » the wide-eyed actor jumped in his seat and surged forward a little, blinking a few times.

Without expecting it, Virgil’s composed face contorted with a snort, which then grew into giggles and then again transformed into a genuine and amused laughter that couldn’t stop.

He tried to breathe in. « Princey, you- » he cut himself off as another wave of giggles hit him, so he held one hand up as if to tell him to wait until he could properly compose himself.

And Roman knew he otherwise would have felt offended, or at least in a playful way, he knew normally he would have instantly asked what was the matter. But he couldn’t really shake off the feeling of wanting to protect and carve this picture into his memory until it was the only thing he could remember.

And he truly wanted to share that angelic laughter, participate to the mirthful moment, yet he found himself solely staring at the unusual sight in pleasant disbelief at how stunning that scene was.

He could merely twitch his lips upwards and consider how much he adored hearing the nickname in such an entertained voice.

Something inside Roman clicked as Virgil finally gained enough breath, and he knew he was done for.

« Sorry, uh, » he was finally able to breathe out. «  I was actually messing with you. She did exist. »

He looked him in the eyes and all Roman could think was “finally”.

After a beat, noticing the other didn’t respond and assuming he was upset or something, he continued. « Though she and their children were afterwards killed by Hercules according to some. Others think he killed his children and Megara compelled him to commit suicide. Awful stories for great heroes, I guess. »

Roman, who was still starstruck, was only able to comment. « Breathtaking. »

Virgil made a face and lowered the cup he was raising to his lips. « What? »

« Uh … what? No I was just- the TV! Behind you, yes. I was commenting that. »

The confused one turned ever so slightly to quickly glance at the old black screen facing his back. « Alright, I won’t question your weird obsession with old style televisions. »

Nailed it.

Their discourse went on escalating to different topics, but never once brushing the fact that they met to keep up their theater practice, like good procrastinating students. It wasn’t like they were avoiding it on purpose, for the first time they felt like spending quality time with each other was their main priority.

« Okay, listen, Tripping in the Darkness. I went on a cruise once and even there I was able to reveal my beautiful voice. »

« So sorry for the passengers. »

« I should have left you outside freezing in the cold. » Roman scoffed after a beat.

« But you didn’t. »

« I’m starting to reconsider. »

« We both know you would never do it. »

« I forgive you only because you’re cute. » oh wait, oh wha- Roman immediately hid behind his cup, drinking the last remaining of his warm beverage. He hoped that the heat would rush off of his cheeks by the time he had finished.

« Wow, I’m flattered. » Virgil didn’t leave his sarcastic tone and didn’t seem to have noticed anything different, until he snorted out loud when he was met with Roman’s face after he lowered the cup.

Roman’s heart sank, was he still blushing? Was he already onto him? That was bad, that was-

« You got … » Virgil’s voice got back to being amused and he gestured towards his face. Oh, great, he had a chocolate-stained face now. Just what he needed.

« Where? Is it gone? » he frantically kept on asking as he wiped around his mouth and cheeks with his bare hand.

His friend shook his head. « Not even close. »

On a scale on one to Roman’s worst embarrassing moments compilation, he would have probably found himself on top of that very ranking, because after that Virgil simply reached for the container on the little table.

« For starters, you take a tissue. » while he did so, Roman could only watch as his friend  gently rubbed away the spot on the bridge of his nose. Oh. The cup did touch it earlier.

Alright that was awkward and I’m stupid, let’s move on.

But no, his brain had decided to short circuit and leave him to his impulsiveness; out of the blue, he grabbed Virgil’s wrist before he pulled away completely.

Virgil blinked, confused once again by his behavior. « Uh, what’s up? »

That’s when Roman’s mind finally snapped to reality and, of course, he panicked to find the best excuse he could permit, so he slid both of his hands to cage Virgil’s own. « You’re super cold! » he noticed, lowering their hands to rest on the table.

« Yeah? It’s minus degrees outside? And I’m often anxious? »

« Oh, right. » why was he feeling more sympathetic than usual? « Then, I shall protect you from both! »

« By holding my hand? »

« By making sure your heat level is within the parameters! »

« Alright, Doc. I’ll trust you. »

That was how they ended up holding hands for the rest of the day without even realizing until they had to part.

« You sure you don’t want me to accompany you to the parking lot? »

« I’m fine, don’t mind. »

They were standing out of the cafe to exchange their goodbyes, about to head for different streets and eventually go home.

« You know, you didn’t really have to pay for me, I’m not broke. » Virgil talked in little puffs of condensed air, hands in his pockets and trying to shake off the cold stinging sensation that pierced his skin.

« Oh, soft you now, »

« Is that a fucking Hamlet quote? »

« -it is my duty to ensure your well-being. Plus I know you hate talking to cashiers, so. »

« You’re the worst, but thank you. » Virgil rolled his eyes. « I still feel like I owe you one now, though. »

Well you could just kiss me whenever you feel like, a part of Roman’s brain noted. Uhm, what the fuck is your problem? Responded the other.

« Nah, I’ll probably forget it by the next time we talk. » he admitted, ignoring the weird thoughts that were happening in his mind, a mind that needed to shut up for at least a single second.

Virgil muttered an “alright” and was about to turn around and wave him off, like he always did, when he was confronted by a simple demand.

« Uh, can I, like, hug you? »

He stopped in his tracks, considering for a moment, before a “sure” escaped his lips and he started nodding.

Roman stepped closer and wrapped his arms around his chest, content and making a little pleased sound as the other returned the hug. He wasn’t sure why he was being so uncertain that day.

« Bye, Virge! » he called out as he stepped away from his friend and began walking home.

Virgil waved in return and immediately took out his phone and earbuds: after hitting shuffle he was fast to recognize the song by the first chords.

Acceptance, huh? He had discovered their song back in middle school. Boy, did he try so hard to be edgy. Still, certain songs weren’t really that bad.

Oh no, this couldn’t be more unexpected.

He had just made to turn the corner of a mansion’s fence when a realization struck him. And he was still subtly smiling because of it.

He somehow hadn’t been aware of it in the moment, probably because of their distracting conversation.

The lyrics went by in his ears and he almost didn’t even notice the words flowing in his head as that little memory of their afternoon occupied his mind.

Could this be out of line? To say you’re the only one breaking me down like this.

Roman had been brushing his thumb against his skin for almost all the time he had been holding onto his hand earlier.

He also had hugged him a little bit tighter than how he remembered back in October. And he was very excited too, that day.

And yeah, the majority of sane people would have found the situation simply nice or just a normal friendly action. But Virgil?

Come to think of it, I’m aching.

Yeah, he was already burying his face in his hoodie. God, was that heat rushing at his cheeks? Did his body really want to make it any more obvious?

On account of my transgression, will you welcome this confession?

Oh god, oh fu-

Virgil exhaled deeply and rubbed at his face with his hands, an unwelcome warm feeling spreading in his chest, it felt like as if someone was lighting a fire in there, not caring for the emotional damage that they were about to cause. Like a firework sent up in the middle of the night only to startle you enough to wake you up in a cold sweat and thumping heart.

Keep me hanging on so contagiously.

Virgil abruptly ripped the earbuds away from his ears and stuffed everything in his pockets as he leaned on his school’s gate, staring at the parking lot in front of him. His parents had yet to arrive to pick him up.

He had enough time to calm down.

« Well, I’m fucked. »

Maybe.

✾✾✾✾

Princey: HAPPY NEW YEAR V!!

Vee: yeee here’s to another shitty one

Princey: AW COME ON try to be a bit more upbeat

Vee: YEEE HERE’S TO ANOTHER SHITTY ONE!!!!

Princey: THAT’S MORE LIKE IT COMRADE

Vee: wtf okay

Princey sent a pic

Vee: are those streamers in your hair?

Vee: and … glitter?

Princey: don’t question it it’s your turn now send me something

Vee: i don’t think that’s how it works

Princey: do iiiiiit scaredy cat

Vee: fine

Vee sent a pic

Princey: .. wait

Princey: Are you in bed?

Vee: On the couch, actually

Vee: if that’s what you’re asking yes, i’m at home

Princey: and you’re not having fun? Are you okay??

Vee: yes don’t worry

Vee: i’m by myself

Princey: WHAT

Vee: gee it’s not that weird

Princey: no it’s just i thought you were out with friends

Vee: were all busy

Vee: but it’s fine, i don’t really appreciate big and loud parties

Vee: and i jump at every single loud noise so fireworks are a big no for me

Princey: you should have told me!! i would have managed something, we could have even just chilled alone

Vee: no it’s fine really, thank you

Vee: sorry to bring you down with that

Princey: oh shush

Princey: can i call you?

Vee: that’s sweet and all but i’d feel like i’m bothering you so

Princey: what are you talking about, plus there are so many people here they won’t even realize i’m gone for a while

Vee: i don’t wanna waste your time, it’s ok

Princey: but you’re not doing that!

Princey: idk can I at least visit you for some time? I don’t want you being all alone like that

Vee: no

Vee: i mean not that i don’t want you here but i’d feel guilty, i told you

Princey: you don’t have to!!

Princey: i lo kdjsdsdjk

Vee: what-

Princey: look i care about you, you’re one of my closest friends already and i love spending time with you, so if there’s a way for me to cheer you up i will gladly accept it

Vee: that is …

Vee: the gayest thing i’ve ever read

Vee: you’re a dork

Princey: i will take all that as a compliment

Vee: okay let me just

Vee: get my dog off of me

Princey: ADORABLE DOG

Vee: yeah i love her

Vee: and afterwards you can call me alright

Princey: SCORE!!

Princey: okay

Vee: one thing though

Princey: mirror mirror on the wall what’s the question botherin y'all

Vee: … i’ll pretend i’ve never read that

Vee: are you still getting me coffee tomorrow morning like that one time

Princey: if this is a subtle “do you wanna hang out here” i’m all for it, tho expect me to come up at like 11

Vee: wow you know exactly how to make things awkward everytime

Vee: okay dog’s off, you can call

Princey: on it!

✾✾✾✾

It is widely known and said that time flies by quickly when you’re either having fun, doing nothing or during the holidays. Students had reluctantly returned to their daily routines of lessons, homework and studying, trying to frame everything in the best way, so that they had at least some time to breathe between their tasks.

January, sadly, meant that the end of the first term was approaching inexorably  and the teachers suddenly realized they needed more marks than they actually had from every student in a matter of two weeks. Everything for the initial report cards that, in the end, didn’t matter at all compared to the final one.

Thanks to February, students would have some time to breathe and re-gain strength until March, which was another wave of tests in preparation for the real monster: May.

For the last years, though, February also meant that they were going to get more information about which subjects they had to focus on the most for their final exams, which could only be linked to chaos, panic and that anxious but subtle feeling that the big moment was coming.

Thankfully, the weekend existed and with it also places for poor unfortunate souls to release stress and distract themselves from the imminent danger.

And that is how we follow two fellow individuals in distress who had decided upon spending their first free time in weeks walking around town and having a nice chat during night. At least before they ended up in a little desolated playground, their scripts in front of their faces, definitely acting more dramatically than needed.

« Do you perform the rites by night or by day? » Roman leaned on one of the street lamps, permitting him to read his line and, at the same time, he widely gestured with his free hand.

« Mostly by night; darkness conveys awe. » Virgil emphasized his second line with such an ominous tone that made his friend giggle lightly.

« Oh my, I’m thrilled. »

« Okay but you’ve got to admit it’s actually a cool phrase to say. »

« Maybe if we were serious enough, my darkling. »

After Virgil’s usual “shut up and keep reading” (which he had been using for the past fifteen minutes, mind you), Roman complied. « This is treacherous towards women, and unsound. » his voice sounded almost offended, his hand trailed over his heart in a fist.

Virgil bit back a grin at the sight. « Even during the day someone may devise what is shameful. »

« This vile quibbling settles your punishment. » the taller one took a few steps forward, pointing his finger on his friend, accusatory.

« Your ignorance and impiety toward the god will settle yours. » Virgil snarled, imitating the other in pointing fingers.

Roman gasped way more dramatically than needed and placed a hand on his chest, eyes wide with disbelief. « How bold the Bacchant is, and not unpracticed in speaking! »

His acting partner intook some breath, before stopping, narrow eyed, while he read his words.

« What, is something wrong? » Roman demanded, eyes scanning the next lines before looking up.

« This is so fucking gay. » he admitted, a smile playing on his lips as he contemplated the possibility of a different turn of events in the plot.

« Dionysus and Pentheus, but make it gayer. »

« Than it already is? That’s a challenge. »

« I have something in mind. » Virgil didn’t like the mischievous look on Roman’s face. « Keep going. »

« Tell me what I must suffer; what grievous harm will you do to me? » he hadn’t noticed how fast the other was to reach him, the previous grin was still imprinted on his lips. His pace faltered only a bit, but didn’t stop when he was a few steps from his Dionysus.

« First, I will cut off your delicate curls. »  how Roman could change his tone from a mocking one to a warm and clear one, would forever be an unsolved mystery to the world. He proceeded to raise a hand to Virgil’s hair and slowly moved his bangs to the side, a knuckle brushing his cheek afterwards.

« My locks are sacred; I am growing them for the god. » Virgil played along and started to remember the lines, a result of their persistent reading every week. Not that he could really tear off his eyes from the looming figure in front of him.

« Next, give me this thyrsos from your hands. » other steps forward and Roman had trapped him against some metal bars he wasn’t aware of.

« Take it from me yourself; this is the wand of Dionysus I am bearing. » with no warning, Roman pressed his right hand, where the actual thyrsos would have been, to the bars and locked their fingers together. He leaned in even further, making sure Virgil could notice the sly sparkle in his half-lidded eyes.

« Last, I will guard your body deep in the dungeons. » his other hand gripped the bars right next to the boy’s head, literally trapping him. He had to stay in character, after all.

The leaning was slow this time, but didn’t seem to be stopping at any moment and Virgil could swear he felt his body move without his consent.

Inches apart, and Roman’s lips twitched upward. He stopped.

Virgil snorted.

Next thing they knew they were both bursting out laughing like they had just heard the best joke their favorite comedian had ever made.

« That was- » Virgil tried, after they both collapsed to the ground, weak in their knees for too much hilarity. « That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my entire life. »

« When Pentheus and Dionysus couldn’t get any gayer. » Roman commented through an almost hysterical laughter, while part of his brain began to shut down in a ohgodwhathasjusthappenediwasabouttobutthenididntandisthisthereallife state. An everyday situation to which he was used to, of course.

« Actually, » his friend began, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. « Greek gods are very open about their sexuality. »

« Oh, yeah. Wasn’t it Zeus himself that tried to f- » Roman was instantly shushed to silence, while a pained expression grew on the other’s face.

« We don’t talk about him. »

Fair enough. They had been in comfortable silence for quite a while, sitting on the ground and enjoying the void of the night as the only sources of light showed them only certain features and details of the objects around them.

« Hey, Virge? »

The mentioned boy almost jumped at the sudden sound. « Yeah? »

Roman’s expression, fixated on something ahead of him, was somewhat between focused and in a daze.

« Did you know the teachers wanted to keep your hair growing for the play? »

« What. »

« They decided against it when they realized I actually had to cut them away during the show. »

« Why are you telling me this right now? »

« I was just thinking about … » Roman’s words lingered, as if he thought about whether or not he could disclose a secret.

About me, please say about me. Virgil shook off the bizarre thought while he waited for a response. Are you fucking kidding me? Part of his mind answered. Didn’t all those past experiences teach you anything?  Virgil found it harder to concentrate on Roman’s words now, he creased his eyebrows as if he were having a headache.

Those were in elementary school and middle school, you idiot. The other side responded. They were still valid experiences!

« Ohi. » Roman waved his hand in front of the other’s face. « Are you on this planet, sir? »

« Sadly, I still am. »

Roman rolled his eyes at that. « Dang, here I thought the aliens had gotten you. »

« You wish. »

« Anyway, I was about to get going since it’s getting pretty late even for a Saturday night. » he pulled himself on his feet, then smiled brightly and turned to his friend. « Lift home? »

« Thank god you exist. »

And Roman did really try hard to act cool and all, but he found out he couldn’t prevent his face from turning at least the weakest tint of red.

✾✾✾✾

They didn’t know how it was possible, but they made it through until April.

The last two months were a train wreck of multiple meetings between Roman’s wonderful school trip abroad, additional tests, the first exams simulations, and things getting very serious at theater club. The designs, scenes, props and costumes were all coming along neatly and, with everybody giving their all, the excitement for the play could be felt through thin air. Roman was thrilled and he thought that there wasn’t nothing else that could possibly be better than that kind of feeling.

Virgil begged to differ.

He was standing in the middle of the external part of the front of the school with a couple of other classes of his same course; they all had backpacks on their backs and a luggage held close.

Virgil was almost bouncing, unable to stay still, he started tapping his fingers on the handle of his own luggage. The anticipation was killing him, how could everybody else be so calm and casual? They were about to leave for a trip to Greece!

It was the most wanted and awaited of school trips for their course, it happened every three years and not only students were given the opportunity to confront and visit places and subjects they had studied, but also thanks to certain lovable teachers the weirdest and funniest things occurred in those trips. It was a dream come true, finally at their fingertips.

He really didn’t want to seem mean, but Virgil couldn’t stop looking at the time on his phone while one of his closest classmates trailed off talking about how energetic they felt for the trip ahead.

Until …

« Wine god! » what the f-

Virgil and his friend looked up simultaneously to be met with the vision of Roman waving one arm from the top of the external stairs and afterwards quickly running down towards them.

« I didn’t see you anywhere this morning! » he was still half-running when he spoke those words, as he reached them. He put his hands on Virgil’s shoulders.

« We didn’t really leave until now, we had a test. »

His eyes widened « What the heck? Right before a trip? »

Virgil shrugged. They had chosen it was better to do it before than afterwards.

« Well, anyway, I wanted to properly say goodbye and wish you a good travel! »

« Thank you, buddy. You really didn’t have to, aren’t you having a lesson right now? » Virgil raised one eyebrow, uncertain.

Roman showed him one of his stupidly charming grins and put his hands on his hips. « I simply asked to go to the bathroom. »

« I hate to break it to you, Roman, but this isn’t exactly the right way. »

« Oh, shut up. You know I wanted to see you before you headed off for the seven seas! »

« We’re literally traveling through the same sea, what are you tal- »

« It’s been a long day, let me have this. »

Virgil tilted his head to the side, they had been in school for only three hours, what exactly did that make it a long day?

His thoughts were broken by the thundering of one of his teachers who announced that everybody had to get ready since they were going to leave in a matter of minutes.

« Alright then. » Roman murmured with a slightly sad sigh, he quickly replaced his defeated expression with a smile, careful not to be discovered. « I’ll have to leave now. »

C'mon say something. His heart begged for mercy as Virgil looked back up at him and he saw two bright gray irises, the sun’s rays hitting them from the side just enough to make them look like literal crystals.

Anything would do, take your chance, tell him!

His eyes fell to the figure right next to them, still standing there and witnessing every one of their interactions. Well, maybe next time.

Roman leaned forwards and wrapped his arms around his friend’s shoulders in a tight embrace that was soon returned a bit more weakly around his waist. He felt like he was holding on him for dear life more than anything.

His hand trailed at the nape of his neck and stroked his hair for some instants, in which Virgil tightened his own hug and laughed silently on his shoulder.

« I’m not leaving forever, you know? The time zone is not even that different. »

« I know but I’ll be lonely! »

« We both know that’s not true. » Virgil released the other and patted his shoulder. « You’ll be fine and you can text me whenever you want when I’m not in the ferry. »

Roman let out a fake annoyed huff, but smiled anyway. « Have a safe trip, Virge. » he backed away, still facing him while waving a hand.

Then he turned to the other boy.

« Keep an eye on him for me, okay? »

« Will do! »

At this, Roman sprinted away towards his class and could only smirk wider when Virgil called him out with a “Oh shut up, Princey.”

Virgil met his friend’s all-knowing look as he turned away from the spot where he saw Roman disappear, not realizing he had a soft expression written over all of his face.

« Why are you- no. Listen, it’s not what you- »

His friend ignored him, dancing around him. « You’re doing flips, read my lips, you’re in love! » he sang, while Virgil buried his face in his hands since for some godforsaken reason when he was embarrassed he tended to have a weird smile on his face that made him completely implausible. He hated that, it only made people tease him even further.

Which was exactly what happened in this situation, even after Virgil had smacked him behind the head lightly and started to get going towards the bus station as their teachers had instructed.

[tobethefairybest]

A Match made in Hell - Chapter 4

Click here for chapter 1

Cana threw out most of her bags down on the train station's platform. She didn't even take the effort to look around the beautiful station. All she could think about was the fact she wished this mission was over already. She'd even give up drinking for a week if she could only skip these upcoming seven days.

"Man, I'm so glad that ride is over," Mest said as he stretched out his arms over his head. He glanced over his shoulder to his job partner, who had just stepped onto solid ground again.

"Aren't you?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

It was weird to see her so lost in thought. She was always very wary of her surroundings, but now she just stared into nothingness. The thought of turning around and asking her what was wrong crossed his mind for a split-second, but he decided not to. After all, she didn't choose to team up with him so he had to avoid making things worse.

"Excuse me," they heard a male voice say. They looked to their left and saw a rather plump and short gentleman walking up to them. "Are you by any chance the Fairy Tail wizards I've requested?"

Mest pulled up his sleeve to reveal the crimson red guildmark on his upper arm. "We sure are!"

"Wonderful!" The man reached out his arm. "Let me introduce myself, my name is Tiresias, Tiresias Black."

The transportation mage shook his hand. "I'm Mest, Mest Gryder."

"Nice to meet you," Tiresias said and turned to the right to shake the card mage's hand, "and you are?"

She absently shook his hand. "Cana's the name. Cana Alberona."

"So, Cana and Mest, eh?" he said and put his hands together, "That's just wonderful. It's beautiful to see the younger generation of wizards takes on jobs now."

Cana had to keep herself from rolling her eyes. She was on edge and it wouldn't take much more to make her snap.

The merchant reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a small, neatly folded map. "On this map, I've drawn the exact way to the merchant route and the place you'll stay for the next week." He pointed at the meandering red line that crossed the piece of paper. "I don't expect you will make it in one day so I've made sure to contact the owner of an inn that's on your route. You can stay there tonight."

He handed over the map to Mest, who carefully put it in his pocket. "Anything else you'd like to know about the job?"

"Yeah," Cana said, to Mest's surprise. "Is it guaranteed that we'll encounter the bandits? I mean, I'm not gonna survey all day and night with this—" she pointed to Mest, "—by my side, if there's nothing else to do."

"Hey, come on, Cana! I know I'm boring, but could you please at least try to be a little nicer to your job-partner?!" Mest blurted out. He knew it was a bad idea to raise his voice at her, but he couldn't take this humiliation any longer. "This wasn't my idea either!"

Cana's eyes widened in surprise. She had never seen him like this and she didn't expect him to snap either. "If you don't want to team up with me so badly, why don't ya just transport yourself back to the guild?! Crybaby!" the card mage backfired.

"I would if I wanted to, but unlike you I don't disappoint my clients!" he yelled back at her as he took a step closer.

She felt the anger inside her mix with all the stress she had built up over the past few hours. It all mixed into a dangerous soup of rage that boiled within her, ready to come out.

She took a step forward as well, grabbed the collar of his vest, and pulled him down to her own height. "One more insult and I'll burn your hair off with my cards," she hissed as she looked deeply into his widened eyes.

"Come, come!" Tiresias tried to calm down the fighting mages. "Let's not harm each other before harming the thieves, shall we?" he said carefully as he forced a smile.

Cana let go of Mest, turned on her heels, and walked away from him. "I'll just go ahead. I don't need a worthless partner to fulfill this mission anyway."

Mest and Tiresias exchanged a glance. "Ehm, young lady," the merchant carefully said.

"Yeah, what?" she asked as she looked over her shoulder.

"I don't doubt your sense of direction, but the route is over there," he said as he pointed in the complete opposite direction. Behind him Mest grinned as he held the map next to his face.

----------------------------------

"It's getting dark, are we almost there yet?" Cana whined.

Mest looked at the map. The inn shouldn't be far away according to it. "Just a hundred more metres."

"Why can't you just use your stupid magic to teleport us there?" the card mage said.

"I can't. I can only transport back to places I've physically been to before. And the longer the distance, the more magical power it requires."

"Tch, you really are worthless."

He almost had to bite his tongue to keep himself from snapping. "Hold on Mest, you're almost there." he repeated silently to himself.

Suddenly it hit him—the thing that he had tried to remember since the train ride—he still didn't have his bags of clothing and food to survive this week. There was just one way to retrieve all that from his home in Magnolia. He stood still and closed his eyes. Cana couldn't see him properly and bumped into his back.

"Bastard! Don't just stand still when I'm walking behind you, what the hell are you—"

Her words were cut off by the realisation he wasn't standing there anymore.

"M-Mest?" she carefully said as she looked around, but she couldn't see him anywhere. "Y-you can't be serious, right? Did really just freaking leave me just because I called you worthless?!"

She raised her voice, "That's fine by me! I wanted to do this on my own anyway!"

She inhaled deeply and with big steps she continued walking. But which way did she have to go? The path was barely visible as it was getting darker and darker. The silent forest had started to rustle and the wind was getting stronger. Cana felt her skin form bumps and took off one of her bags to pull out a jacket.

As she kneeled down, she looked around one more time. There was no orientation point and she could hardly see the outlines of the trees that surrounded her. She was lost. She hated to admit it, but she couldn't do this alone. She put on her jacket and sat down, leaning her back to one of the forest's trees.

"What am I gonna do now?" she asked herself. "If I just walk around I'll get lost, but if I stay here nobody will ever find me. I can't just stay the night here."

Suddenly, she heard the sound of branches being cracked not far from where she was sitting.

"Who's there?!" she yelled as she jumped up. She could feel the adrenaline rush through her veins. It couldn't be, right? There couldn't just be creepy creature trying to attack her right at the moment she was left alone.

When she didn't get a response, she didn't hesitate any longer and jumped into the bushes where the sound had come from. Her body hit something heavy followed by a scream of what she had hit. Cana looked down at what she had tackled, and in the heavily dimmed light, she could distinguish a face, one with a huge scar covering the right side.

"What the hell, Cana! What was that for?" he groaned as his face contorted in pain.

"Mest?!" she exclaimed as she immediately jumped off him. "Where were you? I thought you had left!"

"I was just picking up my bags," he said, still slightly panting because he had used up too much of his magical energy.

The card mage let the information slowly sink in. "You let me think you left me alone, bastard! I'm so sick of your mag—"

"Wait," he said and lifted his head when he spotted something in the distance. "Is that light over there?"

----------------------------------

The Inn was small, but probably capable enough of hosting passerby travelers. When Cana opened the big wooden door, a big man already stood in front of them.

"Welcome!" he said. "You must be the mages Tiresias contacted me about! Come in, come in."

Mest put down his bags next to the bar and Cana carelessly dropped hers at a random place at the floor.

"My name is Doranbolt," the man introduced himself as he shook Mest's hand.

"I'm Mest," he said back. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the brunette had already dragged herself to the bar. "And that girl over there is Cana." He sighed. "I don't expect much from her as long as she keeps that attitude, so I'll bring all the bags upstairs," Mest said as he started to lift the bags onto his shoulder.

"Your room is up the stairs, the second door to the right," Doranbolt informed him.

Slowly, he managed to drag all the bags upstairs. It sure was a lot they had to bring along for going away for a week. He was annoyed by the unnecessary weight of bottles that Cana had brought along, even though she had drunk several of them already.

Finally he arrived at the room the inn owner had pointed out. He used his back to open the door. It was dark, but in the middle of the room he could see an oil lamp. He dropped all the bags into one pile and lit the wick.

The room was now weakly lighted and he could distinguish a table, a few chairs, a wardrobe and a single bed. He held the lamp to the other side of the room to see where the other bed was.

But there was just one.

"This can't be true," he thought as he planted a hand to his face.

"I think there was a misunderstanding about the room," Mest said as he quickly came down the stairs. "There is just one be—"

He stopped running as he realised how bad the situation he was witnessing: Cana laying on her arms flat down on the bar. In front of her were two empty bottles of wine. She looked up when she heard the noise of him walking down the stairs. The card mage turned her head towards him.

"Ish that you Mest?" she said, obviously already tipsy. "Why dontcha come ovher here? The wine is amaaaazing~"

Oh, how much he wished he'd stayed home this morning.

If you want to continue reading; it’s here on FFnet and here on AO3

[fionajaneisaac]

Tiresias

Picture the scene: A boy of fifteen. With the usual dreams And the usual routine. 

Heading to school with a dullness inside Borne of desires left unsatisfied.

Is he stifled or is he just Learning the ways of his times? Give him limbs that are awkward But know how to climb.

Give him a gait that you know. Give him hopes. His days are so painfully slow, But he copes.

This morning He wakes to the same old alarm. Slumps in the shower Like a frog in the rain. Winks at the mirror — does cool, does charm. Shaves soft skin. Nods at the pain. No hair yet. Soon though.

Headphones on. Last half of last night’s joint in his lips. Bass so loud it feels like a movie. Scuffing his trainers. Swinging his hips.

They’re always laughing, The kids at the bus stop. He tries to ignore them, But it doesn’t help.

Hood up, he walks past them. Blowing out smoke rings. Singing out Wu-Tang. Hating himself.

Into the woods, he takes the old path.

There is the rope swing, There is the bath lying broken. There is his name in the bark. There are the trees, So slim and so stark In the thin little woodland. Hardly a forest, The last of the green washed clean by the grey. There is the bike chain that nobody wanted,  There is a child’s shoe — hope they’re ok.

Out of the damp leaves and mulch in the pathway His eye is caught by a glittering flash. A dark moving something, A mess of bright muscle. Ore in a forge, A deep, billowing gash.

Snakes. Two snakes! Coiling, uncoiling Boiling and cooling Oil in a cauldron Foil in a river Soil on a mood ring.

He stares: They spoil each other. They do things He has only dreamt of doing.

His blood’s alive inside him, fizzing. He shuts his eyes and watches blotches Underneath his lids for minutes. But peeks before he knows he’s peeking.

Clutching his knees, he squats on his haunches Watching the scales as they bounce and contort And before he has thought he has reached out a fist And picked up a short stick that lies near a ditch.

He swings from above And breaks open the fortress. The snakes, now apart, Seem smaller, more awkward. They flee for their love. The boy, swaying and nauseous Falls to the floor More raw than before, More tortured. 

He feels himself shiver, contorting. A current is coursing within him,  Shorting his circuits. He curses, His curses are perfect The trees bow their branches in worship.

His body’s responding to something beyond him. Swells where before there were dips. A crunching of muscle, the hips Opening up, bones roaring, Beneath them, boyhood shrinking, falling inwards. Thinking nothing. Feeling new blood rushing.

Scuffing ankles on the forest floor As his shape moves His body pours itself to puddles. He fits and starts. He will be more than the sum of his parts. He shakes and shouts, a screwed-up mouth. A pain that only women know Grabs him in the guts. He slows to gently stuttered breaths He stops.  He feels. He’s still. He rests.

And slowly, with caution She climbs to her feet. Wipes tears from her cheeks with her sleeve. Frowns at the trees. How could you stay so calm? Places a nervous palm Against her new face, her new chest, The new flesh of her arm.

She approaches the school gates, She can’t face her class. She can’t go home, not now.

She is glass Amongst sand.

She turns and retreats. Finds herself deep In the smog and the heat,  The fog and the meat Of the bodies that beat out their lives In the throb of the street. She learns to be small and discreet. She learns to be thankful for all that she eats. She learns how to smile Without meaning an inch of it. She learns how to swim in the stink And not sink in it.  It’s as if this is all she has known.

Give her a face that is kind, that belongs To a woman you know Who is strong And believes in the rightness of doing things wrong.

Give her a body that breathes deep at night That is warm and unending; as total as light. 

Let her live.

Brighter every day That she was not so young and desperate. Bigger every minute That she settled all the restless Urges in her chest And when she woke from nightmares, breathless, She would piece herself together Like some relic found in ash and clay, A precious, ancient necklace.

When she was complete again, She’d wolfwalk into town. And drink down every wave that came To break her spirits down. She was wild and wonderful. A star throughout the district. A red light dreadnought. Queen among misfits.

And yes, sometimes they sneered When they glimpsed her in the gutter. It made her crack her knuckles, Shake her head and start to mutter To herself under her breath You posh pricks don’t know fucking shit. And they would look away And light their cigarettes and spit. 

She liked to giggle with the pretty boys and kiss the lonely addicts And weave exquisite curtains for the dismal little attics Where they lay their heads at night, Out of beads and string and plastic. Each corner she inhabited made warmer by her magic.

She grew expert in the field Of love She learned to see and feel The deepest secrets lurking in The hearts of those who came to swim In her dark waters. She knew things. She knew Kings And she bore daughters. She knew love, she made her fortune. Till she met her match. Exhaustion.

He was an older man, A man who liked to hold her hand A man who made her feel like she was rolling round on golden sand. A man as soft as any girl A man as hard as any luck. She understood what life was for Each time they bucked and came unstuck.

True love takes its toll On souls Who are not used to feeling whole.

They tangle limbs and feel the shudders,  All the world is nothing. Lovers:  Promising each other not to take the vital parts, While even as they mutter it, they’re giving up their hearts.

It is a new moon In late May She gives way To his weight They are laid out flat by the lake.

She can feel His blood in her veins. He can feel Her pulse in his wrists. And they kiss. And the moon hangs open and orange Like a wound in the mist.

He asks her to marry him. Have him forever and never be lonely but only together. She thinks that he’s taking the piss. Throws him a scowl so sharp his darkest parts are shafted, blasted, ripped in half, She starts to laugh, she hits her palms Against the grass. He lifts his arms, I mean it Shining cheeks, his garments creased, Naked skin on cold damp heath. I mean it. Silence. Let it land. She cannot  breathe or stand.  She crawls towards him, smiling. Takes his hand. Of course. They kiss and both expand. 

She decides she must go back,  Seek out a past. A mother, a father, Whatever she has.  A blessing or something,  Maybe an answer.

She packs some things and leaves at dawn, alone.  And heads out North. For home. 

By dusk she’s walking the woods of her youth, Smelling the air. Is this where I’m from? Who was I when I was here last?  If this isn’t home Then where has home gone? 

She sees a small clearing between the trees. She’s rocks in a river.  She’s leaves in a breeze.

There is a shopping trolley There are some keys There is a hawthorn There’s a horse chestnut There’s a used condom There’s an old desk lamp There’s a nice conker... Is that blood or ketchup? Birds in the branches Light in the darkness Like sand in the toes of the bushes.

There!

Right there.

There in the path. In the leaves and the bracken Two black backs untangle, dragons.  Coupling, shuffling, grappling. She is staggering. Can’t stop looking. Strange unravelling. Something from before, something forgotten. Someone she used to be. Some rotten something in her darkest somewhere, Scale and danger. Nature, sunglare. Faint, she takes a branch and holds it Steadies herself. Stills her shoulders. Snakes and sex and innocence And nothing really makes much sense.  Who was I then? She watches awed. And grips the branch like it’s a sword.

Believing. Believing.

I should be leaving.

She breaks the branch with sudden force. She swings the branch, and knows its course: The snakes, no chance, are soon divorced.

A sudden dark and squelching tension. She panics, sweats, can’t breathe. Head pounds. Her body writhes and juts. No sounds.

The image of her lover’s face Begins to shake and wilt and fade, She loses him, there, in the shade.

It hurts. She’s felt this once before. She knows this pain, this change, this awe.

She feels herself retract and harden. Feels her bones enlarging,  Moving, arching. Something charging, She’s old milk bursting from its carton.

Shaken, floored, a body heaving Writhing, smiling, something’s pleasing, Finding her throat open, screaming, Hoarse and full of light Her body stops. She feels his might. His veins thicken in intense delight. 

A man again. He stands, confused. And walks away. Too much to lose.

This poor once-boy, sudden-woman, Who’d lived so long and done so well And kept so much so deeply hidden, Now found himself before the bell Of some new door in some new town. The pain of new beginnings.  Everything that went before Gushed in him. Water overfilling.

Smash the cup and let it happen.

Tiresias. A full grown human. Moves on from what he cannot fathom. He swears his past will not consume him. 

And so the man with many pasts Matures into his present,  But he feels his waters move In the last arc of the crescent,  And as the moon expands to full He feels his blood respond,  But as all humans know to do, He holds it in And soldiers on.

Imagine how it feels To walk so far away from life and love,  To know that all you’ve known Is now No longer enough.

All the blood they’d bled, All the children they had borne, All the mouths their mouths had met, Behind them now. 

Forlorn, He staggers knee-deep through his pity Sadness grabs his shins. A stranger in a strangers’ city, Where new strangeness begins.

In distant gold terrain,  Mount Olympus, pink and milky, Zeus and Hera fight again,  Raw and honest, foul and filthy, Hera with her eyes screwed up I swear you’re out to kill me.  She weeps and screams and he enjoys  The feeling of his power. He froths and paces, thunders, pleads; Tempers frayed, their bodies need A break from fighting — But none comes.  Not after this — another tongue Roasted in his total blaze. Surprise, surprise, old Zeus has strayed.

The fighting carries on for days. Down on Earth the weather’s mental. Hurricanes and ancient heat. Sudden freezes ice the deserts. Rain leaves craters in concrete. Hera’s ripping up her dresses. — Am I not enough for you?

Zeus is melted, stares intently — Sister, you are all i love. — Then why? — Because these others tempt me. And unlike you, I lack the guts To turn away and know my path.

Hera swigs straight from the cask, The nectar’s strong and soothers her heart. She sighs in disbelief, don’t start.

Zeus, bored of being wrong and sorry. Puffs his chest up, shows his might. Hera knows his godly body Well enough to not take fright.

I don’t know what the fuss is for Zeus begins, playing wounded. Women like it more than Men. I don’t even want to do it.  What you get from me is more Than what I get from you. Red rag to a Minotaur.

What? says Zeus. It’s true.

They row like it’s a holy war,  The Earth suffers their anger. Finally, when neither has The strength to raise the anchor And the ship of their relations Is broken-keeled and sinking, And they are fighting over what the other Might have just been thinking,

They stop for ragged breaths. The sky is bruised and black. Hera won’t be pacified Until he takes it back.

Tiresias, at peace at last, Is older now than ever, He’s found a lovely partner And they’ve made a life together.  He won’t walk the woods alone; He’ll only walk the heath. He blanks out all the lives he’s known, But they survive beneath. He’s started doing pottery. He’s joined the local choir. If he thinks about his history His heart is set on fire. 

There’s no way back, There is no track That leads to his past lives. He sets himself on forwards. And he loves. And he survives.

His lover is a gentle man, Together they are free. The enjoy each other I love him. And he loves me. 

But on dark days he likes to walk Besides the heartsick sea. And as the waves begin to howl He drops down to his knees,  And cries for all he’s lost And for all he used to be.

Zeus — in final stage of fury — Beats his massive fists Against the stormy clouds And says — there’s only one who can fix this. 

Tiresias is home alone, His partner’s out all day; He teaches in the local school Good students but shit pay.

The weather’s turning nasty The house rattles and moans. The door’s ripped from its hinges And Tiresias is thrown.

The house is filled with stormclouds Rain smashes at his cheeks  He is too shocked to recognise That this is how god speaks.

Suddenly the storm abates The house is filled with sun Zeus, in his human form,  Sticks up a golden thumb, Hey.

Tiresias is terrified. He can barely speak. Zeus nods in recognition. Swans in, takes a seat.

Look, me and Hera Are having this domestic, Pathetic — I know. But that’s what to be expected From an eternity of marriage. Anyway You’re my only hope.

And Zeus takes him by the hand — might as well have been the throat — And ascends the mount Olympus And dumps him before the queen.

Here’s the guy to settle it. Tiresias has been Man and woman both. 

So ask him — who enjoys it more? A woman or a man?

Tiresias is stunned But wants to help them if he can. 

His mind begins to shudder,  Every kiss comes back to bite him. His body buckles under The old echoes of excitement.

He sees every time his open mouth has yelled, All tongue and teeth, He sees the necks and backs and legs, His rising chest, his blushing cheeks. He remembers after sex,  The woman he once was, Lying in her happiness Like nothing had been lost.

He thinks of how he finds it now, Spent and drained and feeling deep. The agony that follows. The desperate need for sleep. He feels it moving like a hand Across his shaking thighs. He takes his time and works it out, And slowly he describes:

If you could split sexual Please into tenths, Women would get nine. That leaves just one For men.

Zeus grins, Smug, In that way he does. And Hera feels the boiling of her blood.

She, in rage and consternation, Screams towards Tiresias Takes the eyes out from his head And leaves him blind and sore and red. And gore is pouring forth before them all. His arms are spread. He wishes with his broken heart He could be someone else instead.

Zeus is shocked, appalled, impressed. Mate he says Ah mate.

Tiresias knows better Than to howl and remonstrate But his swollen eyeballs roll in grief; His face is aged with pain. Zeus, still reeling from his victory, Accepts it is a shame.

What one god has done, No other god can undo. I can’t give you back your eyes But I can give you something new.

Zeus lays a mighty palm Against the bloody sockets And flood’s the body’s blindness With the inner sight of prophets.

Tiresias was melted, But inside the vision grew. A weakness in his legs, A sobbing emptiness, shot through With some new tenderness, Some blue And calm uncurling in his guts.

He staggered like a child pretending blindness, Hands out in the dark. But couldn’t close his eyes to what exploded in his heart. He could see the truth of things He couldn’t look away. Nothing left but to accept, He had been born to live this day.

And so, with face streaked warpaint red, And every sense burnt white with pain, He was given seven lifetimes And dropped back down to Earth again.

A whole life lived At the mercy of the fates. Here he comes again,  The old seer with the shakes. Wheeled on to mutter prophecy, Chased off by angry kings. Tiresias, you lived for more Than what the legend sings.

Tiresias — you’ve lost Everyone you ever loved.  But you stand beneath The cruelty of the sun that burns above And you offer only toothless grins For all that you have seen.

Tiresias, you hold your own.  Each you that you have been.

You walk among us, slow, A ragged crow, With breath to blow, In which we’ll see a truth That we’ll wish we didn’t know. 

You’re the crazy on the corner Old, and smelling weird Queuing for electric With birdbones in your beard. You stagger on regardless, Swaying in the street Summoning an oracle That can’t be arsed to meet.

While we assemble selves online And stare into our phones, You are bright and terrifying,  Breath and flesh and bone. 

Tiresias — you teach us What it means: to hold your own.

Kate Tempest

[londontheatre]

You can choose your friends but you can’t choose your family the saying goes. Given the number of dysfunctional families that seem to inhabit the plays of the ancient Greek writers, I can really empathise with this. To give an example, take the tale of Antigone which is currently on a UK tour and which I saw recently at the Greenwich Theatre.

The battle for Thebes is over and, as the dust settles the cost is counted. As well as the loss of lives in general, the leaders of the two opposing forces – Eteocles and Polyneices – are also among the dead, having fought and killed each other. This would be a tragedy in normal circumstances but, what makes it worse is that these two were brothers – cursed sons of Oedipus and Jocasta – and with their death, it is now up to their uncle Creon (Nicholas Cass-Beggs) to take up the mantle of ruler of Thebes. One of his first moves is to declare Polyneices a traitor and forbid anyone – on pain of death – to bury his body and release his soul. Polyneices’ sister, Antigone (Holly Georgia) believes that Creon’s edict is wrong and tries, despite the advice of her sister Ismene (Nathalie Barclay) attempts to do the ‘right thing’ by her brother. Caught in the act, Antigone is arrested and put in jail. Despite Antigone being his niece, and betrothed to his son Haemon (Will Bridges), Creon decides that is Antigone does not apologise for her actions, she will be punished to the full extent of the law. Can a visit from blind prophet Tiresias (Crystal Brown) save bring Creon round and save Antigone or is destiny something that cannot be fought by mere humans?

Adapted by Christopher Adams from Sophocles original play of the same name, this version of Antigone not only brings the story up to date but even moves the action into a dystopian future where rulers rule outright and surveillance is a regular part of daily life with drones in the air observing the populace and ensuring that they obey their leader. I have to say, as an idea it really works well. There are some very nice touches in the narrative. The traditional Greek Chorus is gone, replaced by the City Archives – a voice-operated computer retrieval system, sort of the lovechild of Siri and Alexa – which contains all the information the users require. As a device for getting information to a modern computer-savvy audience without losing the basic principles of the chorus, it is a marvelous touch – especially when augmented by Matt Eaton’s great sound design.

The five cast members take on a variety of roles and, initially this was a bit confusing – especially with all the Greek names being thrown around – but very soon settled down and, with minimum costume alterations you always knew who was inhabiting the stage at any one time. For me though there was one character that I just didn’t connect with, and that was the prophet Tiresias. No fault of the actor playing the role but it just felt that the part had been written to get some easy laughs when, in fact she was one of the most serious and learned of all the characters in the story. As always, this is my own opinion and not everyone would agree with me on my thoughts on Tiresias.

However, there were some great performances overall and all of the cast – along with Director Tamsin Shasha – should be applauded for bringing the story to life in such an engaging way. Holly Georgia played Antigone beautifully. Annoying in her steadfast resolve – If I had been Creon, her head would have come off 5 minutes into the show – using infallible logic to prove that she was right. Holly had a tone of voice and demeanor that brooked no discussion – When Antigone says something you believe her, even if you don’t agree. Poor Creon was reduced to reminding Antigone that he was the leader and You really felt for Nicholas Cass-Beggs as his Creon went from superbly confident leader of men to the position he finally ended in – no spoilers. Great acting by Nicholas and when paired with Holly, we had a really great double act.

So, I approached Antigone with trepidation. I was expecting to struggle to fully understand the story but was really surprised at how well the team delivered a comprehensible narrative that made sense from start to finish. At just over an hour, the show never has a chance to dip and there is something major happening every minute which ensures the mind never wanders from the stage. A really enjoyable show that has whetted my appetite for more Greek tragedies in the future.

Review by Terry Eastham

A brother condemned to walk forever in the shadow of death. A family teetering on the brink of catastrophe. A world where one girl dares to take a stand…

This blistering new adaptation sees Sophocles’ tragedy reimagined in a dystopian landscape, where fate is written in code and where drones flock across the skies. Brought to life by innovative theatre company Actors of Dionysus, this production combines bold ideas with passionate and visceral physical theatre.

Tour Details http://ift.tt/2hqFzMc

http://ift.tt/2zSOzRe London Theatre 1