It was hard to watch her and know that this was what she had become.
Where was his littleNyxie?
When she did not return to the cult, he felt hopeful. She would call now. She found what she needed. She would call him. He waited.
He waited.
He waited.
The darkness had become less intense in those days, those days of hopeful waiting... but it became apparent that she would not call for him. She wasn't going to call.
It was then that the Black Death descended over Europe, taking lovers and tearing them apart. Then families. Then friends. Everyone. Everyone. He liked it, that virus that refused to die. He preserved it, allowed it to hide within him and breed, and released it when he lifted away.
But despite burying himself in his work (and his recreational activities), he could still feel every movement of Her. She moved inside him, whether she wanted to realize it or not, and it made him ache
( ... )
Sleeping at night was a practice which she hadn't quite yet mastered, and when something was amiss with any of her children, it was almost impossible.
It was Philotes.
Crying?
Philotes didn't cry. Philotes was quite possibly the most easygoing, happy-go-lucky of her children - which one wouldn't generally think was saying much, but it actually was.
No matter how hard-hearted Nyx might have become toward the rest of the world, she still couldn't turn away from one of her children in pain - much less one of the children who was least likely to have brought it upon herself. Night pulled a silk robe from the air that wrapped around her. She didn't bother to bind her hair or pay much attention to anything else.
Appearing before her daughter in her customary shower of midnight blue sparks, she said more gently than anyone had heard her in a very long time,
She felt his presence before she heard his voice, and her entire body stiffened. She did not turn to look at him. She did not acknowledge his presence at all. What she did do was look at her daughter for a long, long moment.
Philotes looked guilty. "Hullo, Mum. Hullo, Dad."
"Am I to assume," Nyx said softly, keeping an icy grip on her temper, "that you brought me here in the hope of some kind of reconciliation, Philotes?"
Philotes cringed. She had never quite heard her mother sound like that before.
But this was ridiculous. Mum and Dad had never spent this much time apart. Not even close. Not even a little. Even when she was out with the Asian cultists, they hadn't been all silent and awful.
Until Whatever Happened.
Then there was just nothing. Nothing at all.
They'd been mad at each other before, but this was just... wrong. After the first decade, things had gotten a bit itchy. By the end of the first fifty years, a couple of her siblings and she had started to get really worried.
He let out one long, soundless breath, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling of this place that Philotes had called him. There was plaster streaked across it like comet-stripes.
It was useless to push his points; she wasn't hearing them, and in her state, she wouldn't, any time soon. Best to let it go.
"I would not ask you to give up that which makes you happy. You. are not. happy, Nyx."
He paused, considered long and hard the repercussions of what he was about to offer. And then, with eyes that were wide open to the possibilities, he asked her...
He didn't debate. He didn't beat dead horses or even try to kill live ones. He circumvented all the details - details which seemed so important to her in the moment - until he brought it down to one thing.
"I would not ask you to give up that which makes you happy. You. are not. happy, Nyx."And there it was - minuscule, invisible to anyone else in the world - and he'd found it. The crack in her armor, in this facade of sophisticated grace and cold anger and amusement
( ... )
Philotes was getting a big. fucking. present. when he was free to go his meddling daughter.
But his fleeting thought about Philotes was over and done before he let out that breath he was holding. Before she was finished saying her final sentence, he was gone.
And then he was there again, behind her, his arms wrapping tight about her slight form and pulling her against him. He wanted to go slow, to be gentle, to let her come to him. It just would not happen. They had been too long apart, he had been too long without her, and it wasn't right to use half-measures with her, not now, not here, not when she had finally asked for him.
It staggered him, a little, even as he wrapped his head around the thought... She wants me. And he was brand new again, and they were once again on the edge of the world, discovering the deep-seated connection that they'd been created to have
( ... )
She closed her eyes as he came up behind her, as he wrapped his arms around her, as she finally, finally felt him against her again.
There was a sense of relief - a tension twisted up so tightly inside of her that finally found release in his arms. As his arms drew around her, there was nothing conscious about the way she leaned back into him, finally being next to him, finally having him here.
She turned in his arms, sliding her arms around his neck, fingers threading into the hair at his nape, tugging his head down so that their foreheads were touching. Her eyes were still closed. Right now, she didn't see him. Right now, she wanted to concentrate on feeling him; feeling his strength and his size against her again, this inimitable feeling of Ere that she hadn't even bothered to try to replicate since she'd last seen him
( ... )
Comments 21
Where was his littleNyxie?
When she did not return to the cult, he felt hopeful. She would call now. She found what she needed. She would call him. He waited.
He waited.
He waited.
The darkness had become less intense in those days, those days of hopeful waiting... but it became apparent that she would not call for him. She wasn't going to call.
It was then that the Black Death descended over Europe, taking lovers and tearing them apart. Then families. Then friends. Everyone. Everyone. He liked it, that virus that refused to die. He preserved it, allowed it to hide within him and breed, and released it when he lifted away.
But despite burying himself in his work (and his recreational activities), he could still feel every movement of Her. She moved inside him, whether she wanted to realize it or not, and it made him ache ( ... )
Reply
Sleeping at night was a practice which she hadn't quite yet mastered, and when something was amiss with any of her children, it was almost impossible.
It was Philotes.
Crying?
Philotes didn't cry. Philotes was quite possibly the most easygoing, happy-go-lucky of her children - which one wouldn't generally think was saying much, but it actually was.
No matter how hard-hearted Nyx might have become toward the rest of the world, she still couldn't turn away from one of her children in pain - much less one of the children who was least likely to have brought it upon herself. Night pulled a silk robe from the air that wrapped around her. She didn't bother to bind her hair or pay much attention to anything else.
Appearing before her daughter in her customary shower of midnight blue sparks, she said more gently than anyone had heard her in a very long time,
"What's wrong, love?"
Reply
While Erebos was cold and typically an unemotional wall, he had a deep-seated love for his family. Loyalty meant family to him.
So when his child called him -- and in such a manner -- he could do nothing but go.
Appearing just behind Philotes, he murmured softly "I am here, my daugh---"
Nyx.
His words died on his lips. He was, quite literally, speechless.
Reply
Philotes looked guilty. "Hullo, Mum. Hullo, Dad."
"Am I to assume," Nyx said softly, keeping an icy grip on her temper, "that you brought me here in the hope of some kind of reconciliation, Philotes?"
Philotes cringed. She had never quite heard her mother sound like that before.
But this was ridiculous. Mum and Dad had never spent this much time apart. Not even close. Not even a little. Even when she was out with the Asian cultists, they hadn't been all silent and awful.
Until Whatever Happened.
Then there was just nothing. Nothing at all.
They'd been mad at each other before, but this was just... wrong. After the first decade, things had gotten a bit itchy. By the end of the first fifty years, a couple of her siblings and she had started to get really worried.
By this point?
Somebody ( ... )
Reply
It was useless to push his points; she wasn't hearing them, and in her state, she wouldn't, any time soon. Best to let it go.
"I would not ask you to give up that which makes you happy. You. are not. happy, Nyx."
He paused, considered long and hard the repercussions of what he was about to offer. And then, with eyes that were wide open to the possibilities, he asked her...
"What can I do to make you happy?"
Inwardly, he braced himself.
Reply
"I would not ask you to give up that which makes you happy. You. are not. happy, Nyx."And there it was - minuscule, invisible to anyone else in the world - and he'd found it. The crack in her armor, in this facade of sophisticated grace and cold anger and amusement ( ... )
Reply
But his fleeting thought about Philotes was over and done before he let out that breath he was holding. Before she was finished saying her final sentence, he was gone.
And then he was there again, behind her, his arms wrapping tight about her slight form and pulling her against him. He wanted to go slow, to be gentle, to let her come to him. It just would not happen. They had been too long apart, he had been too long without her, and it wasn't right to use half-measures with her, not now, not here, not when she had finally asked for him.
It staggered him, a little, even as he wrapped his head around the thought... She wants me. And he was brand new again, and they were once again on the edge of the world, discovering the deep-seated connection that they'd been created to have ( ... )
Reply
There was a sense of relief - a tension twisted up so tightly inside of her that finally found release in his arms. As his arms drew around her, there was nothing conscious about the way she leaned back into him, finally being next to him, finally having him here.
She turned in his arms, sliding her arms around his neck, fingers threading into the hair at his nape, tugging his head down so that their foreheads were touching. Her eyes were still closed. Right now, she didn't see him. Right now, she wanted to concentrate on feeling him; feeling his strength and his size against her again, this inimitable feeling of Ere that she hadn't even bothered to try to replicate since she'd last seen him ( ... )
Reply
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