we'll just fade away. Greek Mythology, Cassandra/Helen, PG
She hears that Cassandra was killed, clubbed to death or hacked up into pieces or something. By the time the story gets to her, it's already changed. Isn't that always the way of it?
Some nights, standing on her balcony, her hair unbound, she likes to think that the stories got it all wrong. She likes to think that Cassandra isn't dead. She pictures the girl, living somewhere out there, her hair still brown and curling all over the place no matter how many ties they put in it, her eyes still that green color that you can't look at for very long without feeling yourself going mad. She couldn't bear it if Cassandra was really dead.
She still remembers those long, bright afternoons, her fingers in Cassandra's hair, the feel of linen across skin, red, red lips.
She hears that Cassandra was killed, clubbed to death or hacked up into pieces or something. By the time the story gets to her, it's already changed. Isn't that always the way of it?
Some nights, standing on her balcony, her hair unbound, she likes to think that the stories got it all wrong. She likes to think that Cassandra isn't dead. She pictures the girl, living somewhere out there, her hair still brown and curling all over the place no matter how many ties they put in it, her eyes still that green color that you can't look at for very long without feeling yourself going mad. She couldn't bear it if Cassandra was really dead.
She still remembers those long, bright afternoons, her fingers in Cassandra's hair, the feel of linen across skin, red, red lips.
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