The Fifteen Strangers Mods (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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15strangers2023-07-23 07:11 pm
strangerpeople) wrote in 15strangers2023-07-23 07:11 pm
Entry tags:
SING, O GODDESS
[The place that Zagreus brings them to is an abandoned house. Like the rest of Greece, at first the grass and plants are dead, withered. But only at first.
As everyone files into the garden, it starts to slowly come to life. flowers begin to bloom. Fruits and vegetables start to sprout from the soil. The trees begin to grow once more. Wheat stalks slowly pop up out of the ground. Wherever this is, it's clear that life is returning-and the gods are awakening.
It's probably best that they don't return to the underworld, to the House of Hades-but, if anyone wishes to, Charon has arrived with the dead from the previous rounds-now alive-and little baby Ayame. If anyone wishes to go there-though, why would anyone ever willingly go back to the House, knowing you-know-who is probably awake by now?-they can.
But for those who stay here, there is food and drink, wine and bread, fresh meat and ripe crudités. Talk. Plot. Say your goodbyes before you are SHIFTed back to your homeworlds.
Who knows? Maybe there are still some surprises left to be had. But, either way...it is a good day. The new moon will pass. The sun will rise.
The Game-or at least, this variation of it-is over.]
((OoC: And with this, Round 7 is complete! Thank you everyone who participated-we hope you enjoy the aftermath, and stay tuned for the SHIFT Meme and HMD!))
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After a moment, he nods - and takes off a glove, running his ink-stained fingers through her hair.]
Indeed, indeed! Though...these are, sadly, Ulysses Butterflies. Truth be told, I would prefer Blue Morphos for precisely the reason you laid out! Truly, such a terrible hand - I've half a mind that Holmes also somehow engineered this result!
[He shakes his other hand in an exaggerated fist.]
Damn you, Holmes! Was it not enough that you were summoned as a young man, and I as a 50-something gentleman?!
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Hm! Well, maybe that's better too, though. Because the Ulysses....
Did you know, Daddy, that they're one of the very hardest butterflies to photograph? Even though their colors are so bright and distinctive, they move in ways so difficult to predict that it's still hard to catch a sight of them.
And besides. Everybody knows about the morpho. Not that many people would expect something else.
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[He pauses, his fingers stilling as she says that - as she speaks so happily, leans into his touch - his touch! - so easily. So...earnestly, even knowing what he was...
If she looks over, his eyes are shining and misty, though he's trying very hard to not let that moisture overflow.]
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[She hums in agreement, softly, and doesn't look up at him, or at least not yet. But neither does she pull away. She leans against him, small and fragile and entirely trusting, and, after a moment, begins to hum a melody instead, something soft and airy and aimless.
Clearly, she's not moving.
She doesn't want to.]
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After a moment - though he doesn't sob or sniffle - she might feel a drop of water fall from somewhere, and then another. A shaky intake of breath, as he resolutely looks at the sea, his ungloved hand firm against her head.
If those breaths turn into quiet sobs, no one will know but her.
Along with the choked words he just manages to get out between them-]
Th-thank....you.....
[For what?
Well.
Isn't it obvious?]
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But, eventually....]
Love you, Daddy.
[She still hasn't looked up at him, yet. Perhaps it's so that he can try to preserve his dignity, pretend that he hadn't cried, or maybe it's just that in this moment, sitting next to him, leaning on him, his lightly trembling hand still in her hair, it's really not necessary. They are here, together, after all. Looking at him, or not, will do nothing to change that.]
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[It's a call and response that they've done before, but...it's always felt right, even through the choking feeling in his throat.
In this moment, overlooking the sea, as she just holds on to him...he is overwhelmed, but...
He is also so, so happy, in a way that makes him...afraid. As if there will be one last twist to cruelly yank this away from him, steal away what he could hold onto just like always because that is the fate of someone that is Evil.
If that day comes, he can only hope it will be on his side, and not hers - not Akane, who has already suffered so much and still faces so much more with such bravery and determination.
After a bit - moments? Minutes? - he manages to calm down, his hand moving a bit as he discreetly wipes his eyes on the other arm of his coat.]
You're stuck with me now, I'm-I'm afraid. No take-backsies, alright?! This old man is rather stubborn when he's made up his mind, and my mind is set on following you wherever you go! So don't complain about my dastardly schemes in the future!
[...And for now, he retreats from that vulnerability he'd shown.
For now.]
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Once he covertly wiped his eyes she takes his hand in hers, weaving her fingers together with his.]
Good. Then I guess I won't have to try to convince you.
[Akane: I'm not locked in here with you, you're locked in here with me, old man]
Nothing too dastardly though, okay? There's a lot of work that's waiting for me at home. And for you, too, since you're going to be helping me.
[And then there's a longer pause, as she plays with their hands together, something in her movements a little anxious, now.]
A lot of people are going to die, Daddy. I'm one of them, sometimes. Are you really sure that's what you want?
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[His good mood, however, sharply dives as she says that - and his eyes narrow for a moment, before he takes a deep breath.]
I...know that you have a plan, Akane. And even if in some of those, your life is snuffed out...I will still see it to the end, without complaint.
[His hand tightens a bit around hers as he says it, though - no matter how resolute his voice is.]
It is enough that I am allowed to be by your side, my dear daughter. And in the end, I have faith that you will find the way to the path you seek.
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[But that....
His faith settles around her like a blanket one that someone else might feel was suffocating, but she.... She already has no choice but to succeed. No matter how long the path. So instead she twines around him like a cat, wrapping herself close to him, her arms around his neck, her head against his shoulder.]
William Ernest Henley is a poet who lived about when you did, I think. Perhaps his most famous work was written in 1875 and published in 1888: a poem called Invictus, the Latin word for 'unconquered'.
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.
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[He echoes those words, seeming to think over them...before nodding, and removing his other glove, beginning to braid her hair.]
I never much had the chance to read it - at the date of it's publishing, I was...busy with other things.
[After all, he died in may - or was it december? - of 1893, at those falls, only a few short years after it was published.]
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Mmm. Well, you can read it when we get home, if you want. I have some books of poetry....
[Trailing off into thought as she tries to remember what, exactly, they did have. Life had been a whirlwind for so long.]