The prompt page of doom
Alright! Alright, I give in. I'm making a place where you can prompt me.
But I've got a few rules:
1) This is for prompts that you can't otherwise prompt for me at comment_fic. Either you've used up all your slots or it's a Lonely Prompt weekend, just as long as the prompt showing up here isn't a prompt you've written there. This is for the sake of my own ( Read more... )
But I've got a few rules:
1) This is for prompts that you can't otherwise prompt for me at comment_fic. Either you've used up all your slots or it's a Lonely Prompt weekend, just as long as the prompt showing up here isn't a prompt you've written there. This is for the sake of my own ( Read more... )
But he remembers. He remembers the place, and the season, every year, without fail. It is not that he hasn’t had other lovers, hasn’t done other things. Hasn’t waged war, hasn’t healed. No, no, he has fulfilled his duties, as he always has. Even when his faithful dwindled, he fulfilled his duties. Without Hyacinthus, his duties are all he has, and quietly, personally, he added this memorial among them. To stand in the soft earth, with only sheep to stand watch, and scatter hyacinth petals like so many ashes in the wind.
Grief cuts into him again, welling up fresh, and he weeps bitterly. Perhaps Gaia is right, and the others too. Perhaps it is time to set this unending memorial aside. Find another place, take another name.
But not today.
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*wibbles*
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