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Greek story Loosely based off of rp which may or may not go anywhere. :3 TW ... Greeks. If you know... you know. But if you'd like to comment, dont' post here. Use the link below Comments Link: https://wolfplaygame.com/forums.php?f=7&t=90322 |
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Chapter 1 Falling asleep to the sound of rain on the glass pane was almost soothing, the faint rolls of thunder in the distance seemed comforting. Just another afternoon, just a little light nap. That was all. Dozing off on the couch while he waited for the oven timer to go off, just natural and calm. However, waking up in the field of grass? Golden sunshine streaming down on his face was not what he had been expecting at all. He wasn't entirely sure if he was still dreaming or not but that... even that drew something to his mind. The face escaped him but he swore he could still hear that voice. "Do you see it?" "See what?" "Your potential." "No," he responded, that he could remember because the next words were rather ominous. "Don't worry, you will soon enough." Those words rang in his head as he sat up and looked out across the grassy fields. Flowers poked up from the green sea of grass that rolled down the hillside, leading down to a vast place. In the distance, the shrouds of a shaded forest rested beneath the peaks of a rather small mountain--maybe a plateau was a better word for it. The very tip of what looked like a large Greek Parthenon sat on the top of the plateau. Waiting and silent. The breeze gently tossed his hair, pulling it lightly up from his forehead but did nothing to cool the warmth of the sun that blissfully shone downward, unaware of its scathing heat on anything not under shade. Despite that, the young man stood there for a long moment before turning around. A small Greek temple sat in the middle of the hilltop, or at least it seemed enough to be a temple of sorts. Not that he was an expert in these things. Sure, a demigod at the very least but that didn't mean he knew jack squat. Still, he wandered forward, lifting one hand to brush along the marble pillar that stretched up to hold the roof over his head. The shade it provided was blissful, a cool relief from the heat of the sun. In the actual temple, a broken altar sat in the middle of the far back wall, the depiction above it cracked and in ruins. Varian hesitated to move any farther into the temple at that sight. It felt... off. Which was why he stayed at the entrance, one hand on the pillar beside him. For a while, just the silence remained while he tried to figure out what was going on. Footsteps interrupted his thoughts and he glanced over toward the source of the sound. Varian was somewhat surprised to be met with a young man. He was dressed in traditional Greek clothing, with a somewhat wane smile in his face. His golden hair fell neatly, straight, while his eyes seemed to shimmer like deep sky. "I can't blame you for not going in," he said quietly, as if also trying to keep some reverence to the temple ruins. "It... feels..." "Off," Varian finished his sentence, breaking his own silence. "What's... going on? Is this some sort of dream?" "No," he replied honestly, looking back at Varian. "This isn't a dream." Varian paled for a moment. "Dante--" "Dante is fine," the young man lifted his hands up quickly. "He's with Artemis. They're safe, I promise." Varian shook his head lightly, leaning back against the pillar. "What...?" The being hesitated and turned to look out across the vast landscape. The plateau, the forest, what looked like rocky hills, an alcove and a large lagoon, and a lot of open fields and grass. "This is the Isle of Gold," he finally mumbled. "It... was a secret retreat of the gods... but... they're gone. They... the gods have forsaken us." Varian turned his head to look at the young man a bit closer. "Who are you?" A slow sigh escaped the other young man, his chest and shoulders falling. As if a weight had been pressed on the top of his shoulders, heavier than the temple roof above them. He didn't even look back at Varian either. "My name is Ganymede," he sighed, slowly straightening once again. "I am... was the cup-bearer for the gods." Varian's expression shifted, softening. The young man had to have been close to them, to be there for the gods to finally forsake mortals? "I'm sorry," Varian whispered, reaching one hand out to set on his shoulder. "It must've been hard to watch." Ganymede looked up briefly, a faint smile lifting his lips before it fell again. "You always thought that maybe they'd change. Maybe they'd get better... be better... and instead they just got worse. Well, some of them. Artemis is still here, she wanted the gods to get better too." Varian shook his head and exhaled, looking out across the Isle. The pain his heart seemed to be closer to a heavy recognition. They were never perfect, but they had far more time to change than mortals had. But they didn't. "Where can I help?" Varian finally asked, looking toward Ganymede once again. It can't have been easy for him, to be abandoned by the very same gods that had brought him into the life of immortality. The god let out a slow breath and gestured down to the vast fields. "The deity of retribution might need help..." he trailed off and glanced up toward the plateau. "I should... go make sure that the Parthenon is in good shape." He vanished with a small puff of gold and the hint of a sweet smell, like fruits but with a hint of a smooth cream tinged in the mix. |
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Chapter 2 Left alone in the doorway of the temple, Varian glanced back once again. The shadows and the crumpled altar seemed to have a far more chilling feeling than before. Abandoning mortals meant that they didn't need altars, they didn't need anything from them anymore. Why keep it around? He finally looked toward the fields of grass, spotting what might've been a well in the distance and a figure nearby. It was as good as anything at this point and Varian, reminding himself that Dante was okay--Dante was ... fine. Artemis was the literal protector of children, he would be okay. Varian pushed one hand through his hair and finally began to make his way through the grassy fields. Butterflies occasionally flitted through the flowers, touching lightly before drifting off again, bouncing with the breeze. They seemed vibrant, brightly colored and large. Far larger than any he had ever seen on earth. Some of them almost looked like moths that ate on the grass instead of the flowers. Strange things. Varian realized, after a good five minutes of walking, that he had severely misjudged the distance between him and that well. He hesitated to actually exhibit any of his abilities but at the same time... he would be walking for so, so long. While Varian didn't exhibit many abilities, the one he did was a shapeshifting ability. He leapt forward, landing on sturdy hooves. The centaur steadied himself for a moment before starting off at a much faster pace than before. Varian's horse half was a rather simple coloring. With a lighter champagne sort of color with white wrapped around his midsection, touching around his shoulders, a splotch around the base of his tail and tinging his feathered hooves into mid-length socks. With a shorter tail, mirroring his soft strawberry-ish blond hair, he seemed soft and warm. It took him a good hour or so to reach the well. By the which, the figure had sat down. Varian, shifting down to stand on two feet, made his way toward the forlorn figure. The well was simple, a draw chain, pulley, bucket, stones around it and a small hatched covering to keep things from falling in. The figure, a slightly older young man, looked up as Varian approached. There were tired lines just below his eyes, his brown hair peppered with darker black. The man's eyes were a deeper golden brown color. He had been resting against the well, his elbows up on the stone, looking down into the darkness. What caught Varian's eyes, however, were the large wings that folded along the man's back. "You are the deity of retribution?" Varian started carefully. "Right?" He tipped his head lightly and sighed softly. "I am," he mumbled quietly, looking back into the well. Varian nearly started with 'are you okay?' but swallowed those words into the next question. "Can I help with anything?" While the man thought about his answer, Varian carefully took a seat beside the well, resting his back against the stonework. "It... depends," he finally said quietly. "Depends on what?" "How claustrophobic you are," he admitted. "I... there's a lot of feathers that I made down the well, but I can't fit." Varian lifted his blue eyes up to look at the god. There was a hint of grief in the way he spoke, a touch of something more in his voice that Varian couldn't quite pick out but that he understood in the depths of his heart. Like the feeling of remorse that something was lost, but it hadn't really belonged to him rather someone close to him that he had... desired to keep and hold safe. But hadn't. Varian stood up, dusting his pants off and looked down the well. "Water?" "None that I know of," the man replied quietly. "I can supply you with a lantern?" Varian hesitated for a moment or two, looking into the darkness. "I don't think I'll be able to hold a lantern and climb down the rope at the same time. But, you can lower the lantern down in the bucket once I am down." The man seemed surprised as Varian sat on the edge of the well, gave him a warm smile, and began to slide down the rope. The walls were tight to his broad shoulders, but gave him enough room to worm down to the dark bottom of the well, landing on his feet. With just the light from above, he could hardly see his own hand. And he attempted to wave it back and forth in front of his face a couple times, just to get an idea for how little he could see. The sound of the pulley squeaking over head brought his attention to the bucket lowering toward him little by little. His hands stretched up, snagging the bucket and the lantern inside, tucked with a match beside it. "Got it!" Varian called up. "I'll be back with the feathers, don't worry!" The darkness shied away from the orange flame inside of the glass of the lantern. The dirt around him held its place, however, as he shuffled around the deep cavern. The first of the feathers was vastly different in color. The man's feathers had seemed more of a white color. This was a little more of a golden honey yellow and less of an actual feather and something made. It looked like it was maybe... a mixture of beeswax, soft paper, and maybe some sort of fur or hair. Varian knelt down and reached out to grab the feather, a small spark leapt from his finger tips however and as he pulled his hand back, the tunnel shifted. In the lantern, the flame no longer burned, but the feather sat inside, floating in place. His surroundings, far brighter than the tunnel, mirrored that of the Acropolis, a place in... was it Athens? Varian recognized it at the least, but... vaguely. When he had visited, it was not as new as this. But the sound of arguing caught his attention and he turned to look around. |
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Chapter 3 The same man, without wings, and older than before, sat on a bench while another--who looked similar--paced back and forth in front of him. "You don't get it," the younger man, hardly more than a teen, snapped at the other. "You just don't get it. No--you do," he growled. "Talos," the man persisted, sounding tired. "I do understand. I was once in your shoes. It is not envy. It is worry. You are a bright young man, you are an aspiring inventor and engineer and capable of many great things," he insisted. "But Talos, some things are not meant to be made." "Like what?" Talos paused in his pacing to face him with his arms crossed over his chest. "Like the saw to cut trees? Like ways to tell where to go using the earth itself?" "That's not what I mean," the older man protested. "Those are good but it's the other things. Things man aren't meant to make--" "Oh here we go again," Talos threw his hands in the air. "Just because I made a working owl and you didn't doesn't mean nothing. I can make metallic animals, we don't have to rely on actual animals." "That's what I'm worried about," he stood up finally. "What about the gods? Athena is a very ... envious goddess," he hesitated to say but continued anyways. "If you make them and don't attribute her, she will have her vengeance." Talos scoffed and rolled his eyes, walking to the edge, passing through Varian. Varian shuddered and turned around to watch him. "So what? It's not like they're going to come down at smite you just because you make a working metal owl." "You don't know that," the response was tired and irritated. "You just don't know that. Nobody knows what the gods do--heaven forbid, no one knows where Zeus ever is. He's a plague." "You're just worried that I'll be better and I'll be recognized by the gods," Talos preened, looking out at the starry sky. "Tch, figures. You'll never be proud of me." "I am proud of you, Talos," he said quietly. "But that's not the problem. I don't want to have to tell Perdix that you got taken by the gods. You are her son, you are the world to her," he insisted. Varian shook his head lightly. Dante might not have been his kid--rather his brother--but that emotion stirred in his chest. He understood the emotion that he was expressing. "Just admit that you're jealous," Talos insisted, turning around to face him again. "You're jealous of me and you don't want me usurping your title." The older man let out a frustrated noise. "No, for the love of the gods, Talos. No!" The older man took a step forward toward Talos but Talos held a hand out and scoffed. "I don't need you to tell me what to do. I can be my own person, I can be my own inventor--I can be better than you!" Talos nearly stepped back again, his shoe slipping on the stonework. Varian leapt forward to grasp at the outstretched hand just as the older man did as well. Both of their hands missed the outstretched fingers by mere inches. Varian's breath caught in his throat as Talos plummeted until a glittering hand extended under him. The face of a woman scowled at what felt like both of the men on the edge of the Acropolis. "Trying to murder your nephew," she tutted. "All because he was showing much more skill..." "That's not true--" "I saw everything," the goddess hissed back at him. "I know what you did. Soon, Athens will too. So you'd best be prepared to spend some time in a cell." The former Talos, a small bird in her hands, fluttered off into the distance and darkness. The older man shook his head and put one hand to his forehead. "Oh, Talos," his voice trailed off, as did the rest of the acropolis. Varian stared at the feather on the ground for a long moment, his hand still stretched out. Finally, he picked it up in one hand. His heart felt like it would jump out of his chest at any moment, hammering loud in his ears. Varian let out a slow breath, shaking his head lightly, putting the feather in the pocket of his work-shirt. Just over his heart. An inventor... that seemed to ring a bell in his head somewhere. But it couldn't have been Hephaestus. No, it didn't make sense. Still, he shook his head clear of the lingering fog from the vision and continued forward. Albeit, a touch reluctantly. The dirt around the tunnel seemed unmoving, but crept closer in its darkness. He shuffled forward, spotting the next feather. It was the same sort of color and hand-made. But he hesitated this time. Did ... he really want to reach out and grab it? Finally, he did. |
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Chapter 4 "I want it." The woman's voice was shrill and nasally, and she didn't look much nicer either. With plump cheeks that held an artificial red color, a short nose that lifted upward--like a pug--and enough drapes, loose fabric and ties to cover an entire football field, she seemed like she held quite a bit of noble blood. The man, a bit older, let out a slow and agonized sigh. "Pasiphaë, this is the worst idea yet. It is a bull, a white bull, that Minos failed to sacrifice. The logical thinking has gone out the window--" "Don't you speak to me like that!" The woman shrieked back at him, standing up and shuffling down the steps in a rather reckless fashion. "I said I want it. I will have it." The man, taller than her by a few inches, looked down and closed his eyes. "I have to de--" "You decline and I will send you back to Athens myself," Pasiphaë threatened, her hands resting on her hips as she looked up at the man. "If you want to remain a free man, you'd best rethink your decision, sir." The man's fists clenched at his sides, jaw slowly tightening. It took him a solid few minutes before he finally hissed out a few words. "Very well. You will have it by tomorrow." In a rather disorienting fashion, the vision swirled into colors and left Varian stumbling as it shifted back into focus. Pasiphaë and the midwife both let out a terrified shriek. One man burst in the doors, panic in his eyes. "My queen--" His voice dropped and died in his throat as the midwife stared at the creature in her hands. The crying child sounded far more like a lowing calf than a newborn wailing. Hidden in the dark of the curtains, the tired face of the old man frowned and scowled. Varian recognized his look almost immediately. 'I told you so.' "What matter of beast have you brought on this land?!" The man cried out, refusing to even touch the child. "We cannot kill it, we don't know what god has brought this beast into the land." Varian winced lightly at the wording. The poor thing was merely a newborn, a child, not a monster. But, at the same time, perhaps he understood its plight better. After all, he had been born centaur and not man. This, the poor Minotaur, had been born as a bull-headed man. "Imprison it," Pasiphaë cried out. "Keep it guarded but we can't kill it." It. Him. Varian scowled now, rather furious. "Him! Him!" He shouted finally. "He is just a child. He's free of your stupidity!" The moment he stepped forward, Varian stood alongside the same man. "Something, I don't care. Just something where it can't escape." "I understand, King Minos. I understand," he bowed, deeply as the man slammed the door behind him. "Why is he so angry?" A small voice whispered from under the bedding on the corner. "Is Minos always that mad?" Almost immediately, the older man turned to gather the mound of blankets into his arms. "Oh, my little one," he whispered softly. "Minos is... simply scared. He doesn't know how to feel and so he lashes out." The child, no more than six, pouted. "He sounded scary." "Sometimes we do," the man mumbled. "But we have to remember to keep calm, because we never know what others will think or hear." Varian winced at the thought again. Out of context, everything could be horrific. It didn't matter what. "What does he want you to build?" "It's a ... home for the new creature. But he... doesn't want them to get hurt by others. It has to be a safe home. I'm going to call it the Labyrinth." Varian mouthed the word, finally realizing who he was looking at. Daedalus. The inventor. Another wash of emotion swept over his chest at the realization. "Oh sweet stars," Varian whispered. "Oh... no." The calm and fond look that Daedalus gave to Icarus... was painful. Varian knew what was coming. And right then, right there, he wished he could tell him. To get out now. While he could. But the vision faded. Varian fell to his knees on the dirt, holding the lantern in one hand. His other hand reached up and pressed against his chest. The pain he felt was breathtaking, gripping his lungs in an iron fist. It twisted his stomach as he looked up, seeing the next pair of feathers almost side by side. The young man looked up at the dirt, sucking in a quiet breath. "Please. I... I don't want to see this. I can't..." The silent walls of the tunnel simply looked back at him, uncaring. |
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Chapter 5 Varian took a few moments to gather his emotions, to steel himself, and finally crawled forward. The lopsided shuffle was almost painful as he knelt and looked at the two feathers. Two. Varian swallowed dryly, just watching them for a few moments. Oh he really, really, did not want to grab them. But at this point, he had no choice. His outstretched fingers were met with the painless shock, as the tunnel swirled around him. Varian's eyes screwed shut, almost unwilling to even look anywhere at all at first. But the hushed whispering finally drew his curiosity out of its shell. The young woman looked strikingly similar to the Pasiphaë from before. But far less ... annoying. She bore her father's build but her mother's features. "Daedalus, you understand don't you? I can't be wed to him of all people. But Theseus, he's promised to take me back with him. He's slain so many other beasts, the Minotaur will be nothing. But it'll be your maze that needs solving." Daedalus hardly moved, his forehead in his hands. "Ariadne, what will become of me?" "I--" "Your father ordered me to build that labyrinth to keep the beast from escaping, to keep anyone from seeing it," Daedalus explained. His voice was tired, tinged with exhaustion and pain. "The tributes go in so that we appease whatever god gave him to us." "But I can't be wed to anyone else. He's promised himself--by oath!" "On Styx?" "Yes," she insisted. "On Styx." Daedalus let out a slow groaning sigh into his hands, moving his forehead upward and resting his palm over his lips. The silence was shivering, almost electric even. Finally, Daedalus let out a slow breath, ran one hand through his grey hair. "Tie a string to the door when you first go in. Follow it back." The young woman brightened, gave him a tight hug and hurried out of the room. Daedalus simply shook his head, looking out the window. "I still don't have a good feeling about it," he muttered. "You shouldn't," Varian whispered. "I know this story. Theseus does defeat the bull, he and her elope... but once she is there... Dionysus takes her. Theseus ... is left behind." Varian winced and shook his head. "Oh, Daedalus--" His words cut off as the vision changed once again. King Minos, his face red with fury, shouted down at Daedalus. "You did what?! And now she's where?!" "The suitor made an oath on Styx," Daedalus replied calmly. "I was under the impression that you were aware of this." "Are you stupid?" Minos nearly spat out at him, a vein throbbing in his neck. "Have you lost your mind?!" Pasiphaë looked down coldly on the man, sniffing. "Perhaps he has. He's the reason the Minotaur existed." "I beg your pardon?" Daedalus looked toward the queen, his expression sour and uncomfortable. "You--" "You will live where that beast did," Minos all but screamed out, storming down the stairs. "Should you even think about escaping, I'll have you killed! I'll watch every vessel, every trail, every piece of land for you and your son," he screamed in the face of Daedalus. "Then we will see who gives who away!" Daedalus swallowed thickly. "This is not justified! Minos, I have built so much for you and Pasiphaë, why is this my repayment?" "Your repayment was not sending you back to Athens," Minos snarled, turning away. "Send him away." Daedalus took one step forward, gripped by the guards almost immediately. The man lowered his head as the vision faded. Varian stared at the dirt, his eyes watering. "That's not fair! That's... that's not fair!" He leapt to his feet quick enough that he had forgotten the height of the tunnel and his head bounced off of the compacted dirt. "Agh--" The feathers felt heavier and heavier in his pocket, still he continued forward. There seemed to be only a few feathers left. But he knew full well what one of them contained. "This isn't fair," Varian knelt down again. "Why is it like this?" |
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Chapter 6 Varian looked at the next feather with hesitation. The top edges were crumpled inward, as if melted just slightly. But the bottom was far more loose and almost separating. It had been weathered and seen better days. Varian knew full well what this feather was about to entail. But he still couldn't leave it behind. He had said he would collect the feathers. All of them. So his hand stretched out. But this time, the golden spark burnt his fingers and he couldn't pull back fast enough. "Dad, I've got this," Icarus whispered in the darkness. "You just don't understand. I'm going to be careful." "Icarus, the gods aren't what you think they are," Daedalus replied in a tired whisper. "Poseidon is cruel, Apollo is foolish and young. Athena is wicked and heartless. They don't have your respect or your interests or anything at heart. We don't matter to them at all." The father gripped his son's shoulders, finishing with tying the honey yellow feathers onto the young man's arms. "Now remember?" "Not too high, the sun will melt them," Icarus dutifully, if not bored, recounted the instructions. "Not too low or they'll fall apart because of the water." A sigh of some relief escaped from Daedalus. "Good," he whispered. "Stay close." The inventor moved to the door, listening, before pushing it open. The window was just two steps away and Daedalus made sure Icarus leapt out first. The young man stretched his arms out, feathers catching the breeze. His hair and stola rippling in the wind. Daedalus, making sure no guards were there, leapt after him. Varian, despite not having wings, drifted along the two, staying close to Daedalus. Hours drifted by with nothing but the ocean below and the sun above. Icarus kept glancing up at the sky and began to drift upward and then slowly glide back down. He repeated the process, getting further and further upward with each climb. "Icarus," Daedalus warned, his tone shaking. "That's too high." "Relax, they haven't melted yet," Icarus replied smoothly. He gave Daedalus a dazzling smile. "It's just fine." "I can't catch you if you fall," Daedalus insisted. "Stay close." Icarus chuckled. "Dad, we're free. It's okay! Celebrate a little bit! Come on, just fly with me, for once." Daedalus shook his head. "Icarus--" "Just understand," Icarus hummed. "Once you do, you'll understand. It's okay to loosen up a little." Varian shook his head. "No, no. Icarus, no." The young man swept upward, beating his feathered arms, and nearly turned to start his downward glide. But the feathers began to slip from his arms, falling off and down toward the churning blue water. "Icarus--" Daedalus and Varian both cried out. Varian, sweeping forward tried to catch the falling young man. Icarus passed through misty arms leaving Varian aching in his joints. "Apollo!" Daedalus cried out. "Zephyrus! Anyone?! Help!" The sun was silent. The wind, gone. "Poseidon, let him live!" But the sea swallowed the young man, into the depths of the ocean. Daedalus nearly plummeted to the same oceans as he stopped his flight in a scream of chilling despair. "My Icarus!" The father pleaded, circling the spot for another hour before he finally, reluctantly, tore himself from the watery grave that had claimed the young man. Varian buried his face in his hands, sobbing as the vision faded. "It's not fair. It's not fair. Why did they not do a thing?!" Varian cried out, his voice echoing in the heartless darkness. "Why him?" |
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Chapter 7 The next feather was nearby, tinged with sand. Varian, heart heavy, reached out. The spark arched from the feather to his finger but hardly stung. Not that he cared at this point. If it hurt, perhaps that was for the best. It seemed to be a common occurrence. The ocean below gave way to an island. Along which, the sight made Varian's heart sink. Daedalus dragged the lifeless body onto the shore, waterlogged. Limp, lifeless, silent. The father sobbed, inconsolable. He sank onto the sand beside the young man, face in hands. Varian stepped forward, but his attempt at a hug sent him sprawling through the sand. "Oh my Icarus, my sweet boy," Daedalus wept. "Why?" A small letter drifted down from who knew where. Whatever it said, it hardly consoled the mourning father but his expression morphed to grieved understanding. A partridge nearby began to chitter at the father and Varian wanted so badly to punt that little bird into the watery horizon. How dare it mock him?! But he did not have the physical form to even think about touching a thing. "Icaria," Daedalus murmured quietly. "In remembrance of Icarus." The man, in the dying light of sunset, buried his son in the sand. Reluctantly, he then flew once again, into the night sky. But yet, the vision didn't fade. The newly built temple stood on the hills, with the framed feathers hung on the wall. "To Apollo," Daedalus murmured. "Who wished, with everything, he could have helped. But yet, was not the one guiding the sun that day. To curse Helios, the Titan cold and cruel." Daedalus scoffed and shook his head, stepping away from the temple grounds. Sicily opened up beneath him, stretching out wide. Daedalus let out a weary breath, his hands falling to his sides. "I am... free." He glanced back at the temple. "But at what cost?" Varian wanted to reach out and just... just comfort him. But how? How could he comfort a grieving father, a framed fugitive, a tired inventor? What words could soothe that heart which had been beaten, broken and shattered? None. Varian knew that full well. No words would ever sooth that pain, no words could ever stitch together the bleeding wound of the knife of separation. But oh, how he wished he could. The vision finally faded from view. Varian leaned back, rubbing his eyes for a moment or two. He figured, silently, he understood a touch of Daedalus' pain. Dante, his half-brother, was far more like a son than brother. After all, Varian was twenty and five. Dante... was seven. The thought of losing Dante the way that Daedalus had, going through everything like that? It tore at his heart strings and he wanted nothing more than to hurry and hold Dante close. Tell the boy he wouldn't let go. But the single feather remained. Just up ahead. Laying and staring back at him, as if daring him to reach out and take it. |
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Lightbringer
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Chapter 8 The end of the well tunnel was just inches behind the last feather. Varian first reached out to brush his hand along the dry dirt, letting it crumble under his touch. Then he lowered his hand and reached to pick up the feather. It gave the least and smallest little spark, worn out, weary, and tired. Especially compared to others. Still, the vision opened around him. The pavilion was in open air in the midst of a garden. A gentle breeze blew through and Daedalus sat enjoying the peace. His hands sketched out the flowers nearby and for once he almost looked at peace. A different man stepped into view. "Minos is looking for you," he didn't bother sugarcoating the truth or anything. Just laid it out flat. Daedalus let out a short noise. "As he has been. He's inquired every country round about and hasn't been able to locate me yet." "Perhaps because he has a silly riddle," the other man chuckled idly and leaned against the doorway of the pavilion. "He's trying to get someone to figure out how to string a shell." "String a shell?" Daedalus finally looked up from the sketch he had. "What?" "He's trying to see if anyone can pass a thread through a shell," The man restated, waving one hand. "I figure you'd be able to do it in no time." Daedalus frowned thunderously. "And then what?" "Oh I imagine he'll get all up in arms and demand you," he mused shortly. "But I don't think that's a fair trade. Besides, he's the reason the Minotaur was even a thing, he's the reason Ariadne left, and he's the reason Theseus was lost." Daedalus raised one eyebrow. "So you wouldn't give me away?" "Dear Olympus no, friend," the man shook his head. "But I will get rid of him." Daedalus leaned back and finally set the sketch aside. He stood up, with some difficulty, and shuffled forward. "Let me see the shell." The shell was twisted and long, hard to shove a thread all the way down or through by means. It was a downright riddle for sure. Daedalus snagged a pair of glasses, stooped down to gather a helper, and sat down again. After tying the thread around the tiny ant, he fished for a touch of honey, which he had been half eating and half using to feed birds and other insects. Slipping a droplet of honey through the shell and using a needle to work a hole in the other end, Daedalus set the and at the entrance and leaned back, content. A minute or so later, the ant wiggled through. "By Hera, you really are a genius," the man whispered, holding the shell up. Daedalus waved one hand idly. "Bah, that's nothing compared to what I have done." Still, he snuck after the man just to see the aftermath. Minos, greedily reached out for the shell and studied it. "Hmm... I don't suppose a Daedalus did this?" "He was the only one able to solve your riddle," the other man responded dutifully. "He is a wanted fugitive in my country. I want him returned now, Cocalus," Minos immediately dropped the shell and faced the other king. Cocalus raised an eyebrow and ran one hand over his beard. "Hmm... I suppose. But it is late. Let me entertain you, as all good kings do." Minos, rather pleased, greedily obliged. He hurried toward the king but Cocalus stretched a hand out. "You must be weary from all that traveling. Surely you would rather wash up and rest before the meal?" "Gladly," Minos hummed. "You don't know how reasonable you are," the king purred. Cocalus simply smiled and waved his hand. "Oh I've been told. Let me show you where." Varian looked back at Daedalus, who seemed... tired at best. Cocalus, not too long later, slid back out and headed straight for him. "How fast can you boil water?" "Quickly," Daedalus replied wearily. "Dare I ask why?" "My new friend needs a ... bath," Cocalus mused, a sharp and sly grin etched in his features. "A once in a lifetime bath." Daedalus raised both eyebrows before dipping his head. "There should be pipes that we laid in that will supply water. If we boil water using heated metal coils, then it'll boil faster and longer than a fire," he explained briefly. "Especially if you heat up the metal pipes." Cocalus grinned fully and shuffled off with Daedalus, leaving Varian behind. A gargled scream echoed through the hallways soon after, and the vision reduced to darkness once again. The only justice the poor man ever got. Varian added the feather to the others in his pocket and slowly stood up once again. The lantern was burning low which meant he didn't have much oil left. The young man made his way through the tunnel again until he came to the bucket. "Sir?" Varian called up. "I have the feathers but I'd like to give you your lantern up first." The far younger face peered down at him, surprised. "You're alive?" "I sure hope so," Varian called back up. |
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Lightbringer
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Chapter 9 The lantern was quickly retrieved and the bucket dropped down again for Varian to climb up. He didn't really want to make any assumptions right at first but at the same time, now that he knew the man's name... it felt rude to call him by sir. "You weren't aware that the feathers were magic, were you?" Varian pulled himself onto the edge of the well with a slow grunt. "I was," he responded quietly. "It was a quest." Varian, surprised, looked up at him for a silent moment or two. "I just completed a quest for you?" He bobbed his head. "I'm sure you know who I am now." "Oh Daedalus," Varian slid out of the well and eagerly gathered him into his arms. "Dude..." They both sank down to their knees, each other in their embrace. "I'm so ... I... I..." Varian couldn't hardly find the right words. "It's okay," Daedalus murmured softly, his fatherly instinct to run his hands through Varian's hair. "It was my life to live. Not yours. I have had eons to come to terms and grieve." "They failed you," Varian insisted. "The gods failed you." "Perhaps they did," Daedalus said quietly. "But there were thousands of us, and only a few of them." "They're immortal, they had temples and demigods and so much power. They could have helped you at any time," Varian insisted, sitting back on his feet. "Retribution...?" At that, Daedalus turned away. His expression darkened, a frown pulling at his lips. "I called on Nemesis several times. But what could she do against Athena? What could she do against Poseidon? She had no power over Hades." Varian stared back at him with an open jawed expression. "Oh really?! Why don't we just give her the useless trophy and call it a day." "Because she's gone," Daedalus said softly. "I have taken her place. I'm working on a lot of things now, making them right," he said and slowly looked up at Varian. "But it isn't easy." Varian tilted his head to the side. "It isn't?" Daedalus shook his head and tutted. "No, not at all. Retribution is a far more complex matter than just black and white. You have to ask hard questions. What is really just? Is it karma? Is it leaving it alone? Is it guiding to something new? Ruining good plans for something better, for them to grow? I mean, without everything that happened, I never would have met Cocalus, a dear friend and ally." Varian closed his mouth for a moment or two, his hands in his lap. "No, I see. I understand. What would be retribution for my mother? Centaurs... giving birth is hard on them. Would it be to keep me from ever happening? Or would it have changed a thing?" Daedalus' smile grew fond and weary. "Oh, boy, don't worry yourself on that matter. It is my duty to worry about." "You do have help, right?" Varian prompted, slowly standing up with the god's help. "Oh, I do," Daedalus confirmed. "I am only me. But training new helpers is a good help." Varian's eyes softened. "I'm glad. I'm glad that it worked out." Daedalus chuckled softly. "Ganymede... he's a good kid. Picked well." Varian's blue eyed gaze drifted toward the distant Parthenon. "Yeah. Can't imagine what he had to go through." Daedalus shook his head, gathering the feathers together in his hands. "Well, I can at least help you a little bit. Consider... consider it a blessing," he prompted after thinking for a second. "A blessing?" Varian turned his gaze back to Daedalus. "For what?" "Collecting these," he chuckled softly, not unkindly. "I definitely couldn't fit down there myself. But you did, not only that but you braved all of them." Varian rubbed the back of his neck. "Daedalus, look, I really don't need anything. I should find Dante--" "This will help." "... you sure?" "Positive," Daedalus hummed softly. He gathered one of the feathers into his hands and pressed it against Varian's back, just between his shoulder blades. As the god pulled his hand back, the glittering wings unfolded and stretched out behind him. They moved with his thoughts but felt weightless. Not to mention he wore a dark grey Greek chiton ... somehow had lost his shoes but his jeans were still under the chiton. It was a fashion choice. "They'll fade when you don't need them," Daedalus mused. "So you don't have to worry about my predicament of fitting through places." ------- Special Story Art: https://i.postimg.cc/d1J8G1LF/Daedalus-s-Blessing.png |
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Spring 
Day Weather: 
Flood
