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Calliope of Aetaea did her best to soothe her tremors. She firmly held the bow in her right hand, though her digits shook against the sleek, polished wood. She'd drawn back the string, knocked an arrow on it and was ready to let it fly, but the prey she'd been searching after had scampered away. A 'tch' of frustration cast upon the young woman's lips and she slowly eased the string back to its starting position. Calliope was usually better than this, and she wished to feel that Athenian perfectionism rise within her, but she couldn't focus. Her thick cloak sought to give her purchase away from the suffocating chill of the early morning, but nonetheless she felt it upon her legs, which she'd needed to keep bared in order to keep her mobility. Calliope was dressed in a simple white peplos, both accented and warmed by the azule fabric of her twin cloaks
Frost did not often cling to the ground of Aetaea, but the frigid winds had picked up early on, bringing a frothy breath to rise from Calliope's lips. She shook her head as she whirled her gaze about in fervent effort to find prey. Her and her father needed food on their table, but then again, she wondered if the effort was even necessary. She'd heard the clatter in his step the last time she'd seen him, the sort of elated skip in his motions that gave credence to the idea that Alexis of Aetaea was satisfied with himself.
You're getting married, Calliope. Isn't that grand?
Calliope's father posed it as a question, one meant to flicker concern into being. However, the young woman wasn't so naive as to believe any of it. She'd be married, but not because her father cared about her. The man was a drunken wastrel, a cur who saw it fit to attempt to beat her at any opportunity. She'd pushed him back against the wall the previous time, only because his lacking sustenance had brought weakness and frailty to his body. But, this day when she'd left her home in the forest, he'd seemed... stronger. She wondered to herself just how much ill-wrought gold clung to his wretched clutches. It was pitiable, for Calliope to consider this wretch her father. But, he was. And she had her duty to him. She felt the sigh blow past her lips in a heavy fog.
Anger and frustration both mixed in a heady effort, and Calliope of Aetaea found herself falling to the floor. She cradled her legs up to her stomach, arms whirled about her knees as the bow lay forgotten in front of her. Eyes did not water. Rather, there was nothing upon her visage to give credence to any sort of emotion. Her huddled posture and the tremors in her form, after all, could be owed to the chill. Let me die here, she asked of the Gods, fear bubbling within the depths of her soul. What sort of man would buy a wife? Was she to leave the horrors of her home in Aetaea for worse horrors in the capitol? She bowed her head, and at last, she felt the tears begin to well.
What am I? she asked herself, the loathing coaxed from the depths of her soul. Calliope of Aetaea thought of her mother, the beautiful Ebele of Aetaea, who'd fallen ill four years earlier. What would she do in this situation? What would she tell her daughter. The tears flowed freely as she imagined the disappointment in her. She knew, of course, that Ebele of Aetaea had never loved Alexis. They married as a product of circumstance, and those circumstances had never seemed to work out in their favour.
Help me, mother... she called out to nothing at all.
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Jan 14, 2020 15:43:21 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Jan 14, 2020 15:43:21 GMT
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Breathe.
Calliope of Aetaea did her best to soothe her tremors. She firmly held the bow in her right hand, though her digits shook against the sleek, polished wood. She'd drawn back the string, knocked an arrow on it and was ready to let it fly, but the prey she'd been searching after had scampered away. A 'tch' of frustration cast upon the young woman's lips and she slowly eased the string back to its starting position. Calliope was usually better than this, and she wished to feel that Athenian perfectionism rise within her, but she couldn't focus. Her thick cloak sought to give her purchase away from the suffocating chill of the early morning, but nonetheless she felt it upon her legs, which she'd needed to keep bared in order to keep her mobility. Calliope was dressed in a simple white peplos, both accented and warmed by the azule fabric of her twin cloaks
Frost did not often cling to the ground of Aetaea, but the frigid winds had picked up early on, bringing a frothy breath to rise from Calliope's lips. She shook her head as she whirled her gaze about in fervent effort to find prey. Her and her father needed food on their table, but then again, she wondered if the effort was even necessary. She'd heard the clatter in his step the last time she'd seen him, the sort of elated skip in his motions that gave credence to the idea that Alexis of Aetaea was satisfied with himself.
You're getting married, Calliope. Isn't that grand?
Calliope's father posed it as a question, one meant to flicker concern into being. However, the young woman wasn't so naive as to believe any of it. She'd be married, but not because her father cared about her. The man was a drunken wastrel, a cur who saw it fit to attempt to beat her at any opportunity. She'd pushed him back against the wall the previous time, only because his lacking sustenance had brought weakness and frailty to his body. But, this day when she'd left her home in the forest, he'd seemed... stronger. She wondered to herself just how much ill-wrought gold clung to his wretched clutches. It was pitiable, for Calliope to consider this wretch her father. But, he was. And she had her duty to him. She felt the sigh blow past her lips in a heavy fog.
Anger and frustration both mixed in a heady effort, and Calliope of Aetaea found herself falling to the floor. She cradled her legs up to her stomach, arms whirled about her knees as the bow lay forgotten in front of her. Eyes did not water. Rather, there was nothing upon her visage to give credence to any sort of emotion. Her huddled posture and the tremors in her form, after all, could be owed to the chill. Let me die here, she asked of the Gods, fear bubbling within the depths of her soul. What sort of man would buy a wife? Was she to leave the horrors of her home in Aetaea for worse horrors in the capitol? She bowed her head, and at last, she felt the tears begin to well.
What am I? she asked herself, the loathing coaxed from the depths of her soul. Calliope of Aetaea thought of her mother, the beautiful Ebele of Aetaea, who'd fallen ill four years earlier. What would she do in this situation? What would she tell her daughter. The tears flowed freely as she imagined the disappointment in her. She knew, of course, that Ebele of Aetaea had never loved Alexis. They married as a product of circumstance, and those circumstances had never seemed to work out in their favour.
Help me, mother... she called out to nothing at all.
Breathe.
Calliope of Aetaea did her best to soothe her tremors. She firmly held the bow in her right hand, though her digits shook against the sleek, polished wood. She'd drawn back the string, knocked an arrow on it and was ready to let it fly, but the prey she'd been searching after had scampered away. A 'tch' of frustration cast upon the young woman's lips and she slowly eased the string back to its starting position. Calliope was usually better than this, and she wished to feel that Athenian perfectionism rise within her, but she couldn't focus. Her thick cloak sought to give her purchase away from the suffocating chill of the early morning, but nonetheless she felt it upon her legs, which she'd needed to keep bared in order to keep her mobility. Calliope was dressed in a simple white peplos, both accented and warmed by the azule fabric of her twin cloaks
Frost did not often cling to the ground of Aetaea, but the frigid winds had picked up early on, bringing a frothy breath to rise from Calliope's lips. She shook her head as she whirled her gaze about in fervent effort to find prey. Her and her father needed food on their table, but then again, she wondered if the effort was even necessary. She'd heard the clatter in his step the last time she'd seen him, the sort of elated skip in his motions that gave credence to the idea that Alexis of Aetaea was satisfied with himself.
You're getting married, Calliope. Isn't that grand?
Calliope's father posed it as a question, one meant to flicker concern into being. However, the young woman wasn't so naive as to believe any of it. She'd be married, but not because her father cared about her. The man was a drunken wastrel, a cur who saw it fit to attempt to beat her at any opportunity. She'd pushed him back against the wall the previous time, only because his lacking sustenance had brought weakness and frailty to his body. But, this day when she'd left her home in the forest, he'd seemed... stronger. She wondered to herself just how much ill-wrought gold clung to his wretched clutches. It was pitiable, for Calliope to consider this wretch her father. But, he was. And she had her duty to him. She felt the sigh blow past her lips in a heavy fog.
Anger and frustration both mixed in a heady effort, and Calliope of Aetaea found herself falling to the floor. She cradled her legs up to her stomach, arms whirled about her knees as the bow lay forgotten in front of her. Eyes did not water. Rather, there was nothing upon her visage to give credence to any sort of emotion. Her huddled posture and the tremors in her form, after all, could be owed to the chill. Let me die here, she asked of the Gods, fear bubbling within the depths of her soul. What sort of man would buy a wife? Was she to leave the horrors of her home in Aetaea for worse horrors in the capitol? She bowed her head, and at last, she felt the tears begin to well.
What am I? she asked herself, the loathing coaxed from the depths of her soul. Calliope of Aetaea thought of her mother, the beautiful Ebele of Aetaea, who'd fallen ill four years earlier. What would she do in this situation? What would she tell her daughter. The tears flowed freely as she imagined the disappointment in her. She knew, of course, that Ebele of Aetaea had never loved Alexis. They married as a product of circumstance, and those circumstances had never seemed to work out in their favour.
Help me, mother... she called out to nothing at all.
These first months of self-isolation had been the most difficult. It was amazing to think that she actually missed the court and Athenia. The entire time she had been there as a courtier, though it had only been a few short years, had been almost torturous for the young girl who was much more apt to mlitary training and running the forests of her home than she was standing amongst gossiping courtiers. She was only glad that none of the gossip had actually been about her, though she had to admit that some of it was mildly entertaining. Despite her own displeasure over it, she did find it a little hypocritical that she enjoyed it only the slightest bit.
A young seventeen, the lady of the Argyris house had been up since long before dawn. Ignoring the keen eye of her aunt, stirred by even the slightest sound in the halls of the manor, Iris had dressed in one of her warmer chitons. A glance out to the outside world revealed that the sky seemed intent to drop at least a few flakes of snow upon the province, dusting most things with frost and the very tips of the coniferous trees with snow. Once the sun rose in the sky that morning, all signs of snow would be lost and the air would warm just enough to keep someone from freezing to death, but it was always the night that was the most dangerous.
Pulling on fur-lined boots, the lady grabbed her bow and the arrows that went with it and stole into the chilly azosios air. Winter was upon Athenia and there was no escaping the cold until the world warmed in the spring. Iris found it best not to complain about the cold, as it only seemed to make it worse if you remained hyper aware of it.
The first few hours of the morning were spent tracking prints in the mud and dirt of the forest floor while trying to keep her own from giving her away. The one hunting dog she had decided to take with her kept his nose pressed nearly to the ground, sniffing about in a hurried manner as if the prey would no out fox him. Iris kept her attention partially on the hound, knowing that he could not only alert her to prey, but also coming dangers. These forests were not without their own beasts, and the further in one wandered, the more wild they became.
Iris silently checked that the dagger she usually took hunting was still at her hip. Pleased, she continued on her hunt in utter silence, finding the almost overwhelming tenor of absolutely no sound but crunching footsteps, her heart, and her own breathing was more liberating than anything. Though, it also reminded her of who she had left behind in Athenia.
Aimias' face flashed in her mind and she swallowed slightly, focusing more on her task than the fact that she had so coldly rejected a man that she had realized far too late she actually loved. The self-imposed exile was perfect for her, she supposed. It was only when the dog barked to her side, swerving sharply in one direction that Iris set off quickly after. Surely, there was finally prey to be found!
The woman had to bite down the simultaneous alarm and disappointment that it was not prey the dog had caught the scent of, but a figure laying on the ground. Breaking into a half-sprint, Iris found herself at the girl's side rather quickly, dropping her own bow and reaching down to touch the warm body on the ground. "Hello? Are you alright?" she asked softly, "Do you need help?"
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Feb 8, 2020 15:00:55 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Feb 8, 2020 15:00:55 GMT
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These first months of self-isolation had been the most difficult. It was amazing to think that she actually missed the court and Athenia. The entire time she had been there as a courtier, though it had only been a few short years, had been almost torturous for the young girl who was much more apt to mlitary training and running the forests of her home than she was standing amongst gossiping courtiers. She was only glad that none of the gossip had actually been about her, though she had to admit that some of it was mildly entertaining. Despite her own displeasure over it, she did find it a little hypocritical that she enjoyed it only the slightest bit.
A young seventeen, the lady of the Argyris house had been up since long before dawn. Ignoring the keen eye of her aunt, stirred by even the slightest sound in the halls of the manor, Iris had dressed in one of her warmer chitons. A glance out to the outside world revealed that the sky seemed intent to drop at least a few flakes of snow upon the province, dusting most things with frost and the very tips of the coniferous trees with snow. Once the sun rose in the sky that morning, all signs of snow would be lost and the air would warm just enough to keep someone from freezing to death, but it was always the night that was the most dangerous.
Pulling on fur-lined boots, the lady grabbed her bow and the arrows that went with it and stole into the chilly azosios air. Winter was upon Athenia and there was no escaping the cold until the world warmed in the spring. Iris found it best not to complain about the cold, as it only seemed to make it worse if you remained hyper aware of it.
The first few hours of the morning were spent tracking prints in the mud and dirt of the forest floor while trying to keep her own from giving her away. The one hunting dog she had decided to take with her kept his nose pressed nearly to the ground, sniffing about in a hurried manner as if the prey would no out fox him. Iris kept her attention partially on the hound, knowing that he could not only alert her to prey, but also coming dangers. These forests were not without their own beasts, and the further in one wandered, the more wild they became.
Iris silently checked that the dagger she usually took hunting was still at her hip. Pleased, she continued on her hunt in utter silence, finding the almost overwhelming tenor of absolutely no sound but crunching footsteps, her heart, and her own breathing was more liberating than anything. Though, it also reminded her of who she had left behind in Athenia.
Aimias' face flashed in her mind and she swallowed slightly, focusing more on her task than the fact that she had so coldly rejected a man that she had realized far too late she actually loved. The self-imposed exile was perfect for her, she supposed. It was only when the dog barked to her side, swerving sharply in one direction that Iris set off quickly after. Surely, there was finally prey to be found!
The woman had to bite down the simultaneous alarm and disappointment that it was not prey the dog had caught the scent of, but a figure laying on the ground. Breaking into a half-sprint, Iris found herself at the girl's side rather quickly, dropping her own bow and reaching down to touch the warm body on the ground. "Hello? Are you alright?" she asked softly, "Do you need help?"
These first months of self-isolation had been the most difficult. It was amazing to think that she actually missed the court and Athenia. The entire time she had been there as a courtier, though it had only been a few short years, had been almost torturous for the young girl who was much more apt to mlitary training and running the forests of her home than she was standing amongst gossiping courtiers. She was only glad that none of the gossip had actually been about her, though she had to admit that some of it was mildly entertaining. Despite her own displeasure over it, she did find it a little hypocritical that she enjoyed it only the slightest bit.
A young seventeen, the lady of the Argyris house had been up since long before dawn. Ignoring the keen eye of her aunt, stirred by even the slightest sound in the halls of the manor, Iris had dressed in one of her warmer chitons. A glance out to the outside world revealed that the sky seemed intent to drop at least a few flakes of snow upon the province, dusting most things with frost and the very tips of the coniferous trees with snow. Once the sun rose in the sky that morning, all signs of snow would be lost and the air would warm just enough to keep someone from freezing to death, but it was always the night that was the most dangerous.
Pulling on fur-lined boots, the lady grabbed her bow and the arrows that went with it and stole into the chilly azosios air. Winter was upon Athenia and there was no escaping the cold until the world warmed in the spring. Iris found it best not to complain about the cold, as it only seemed to make it worse if you remained hyper aware of it.
The first few hours of the morning were spent tracking prints in the mud and dirt of the forest floor while trying to keep her own from giving her away. The one hunting dog she had decided to take with her kept his nose pressed nearly to the ground, sniffing about in a hurried manner as if the prey would no out fox him. Iris kept her attention partially on the hound, knowing that he could not only alert her to prey, but also coming dangers. These forests were not without their own beasts, and the further in one wandered, the more wild they became.
Iris silently checked that the dagger she usually took hunting was still at her hip. Pleased, she continued on her hunt in utter silence, finding the almost overwhelming tenor of absolutely no sound but crunching footsteps, her heart, and her own breathing was more liberating than anything. Though, it also reminded her of who she had left behind in Athenia.
Aimias' face flashed in her mind and she swallowed slightly, focusing more on her task than the fact that she had so coldly rejected a man that she had realized far too late she actually loved. The self-imposed exile was perfect for her, she supposed. It was only when the dog barked to her side, swerving sharply in one direction that Iris set off quickly after. Surely, there was finally prey to be found!
The woman had to bite down the simultaneous alarm and disappointment that it was not prey the dog had caught the scent of, but a figure laying on the ground. Breaking into a half-sprint, Iris found herself at the girl's side rather quickly, dropping her own bow and reaching down to touch the warm body on the ground. "Hello? Are you alright?" she asked softly, "Do you need help?"
The circumstances of Calliope's existence were not so easily wrought. There was nothing that kept her attached to Aetaea. Her father was losing his soul to greed and to booze, her mother was dead, a memory wilted away and draining both daughter and widower of any sort of compassion. If the young woman stayed in Aetaea, the point of contention between father and daughter would draw to an inevitable climax and Calliope, despite her hatred for the man couldn't bring herself to that end. If only for the memories she clung fondly to as she nursed her bruises and isolated herself from the hollow wretch wearing her father's face.
No, marriage was the inevitability, the release from that hatred and quite possibly the ewer from which a new sort of hatred would be drunk. She hadn't yet met her would-be spouse and she didn't want to. Perhaps it was fitting for her to remove the cloaks she bore, to hide herself in the frigid weather until the heat left her body and she fertilized the soil with her inert body. Calliope clutched at the bow with icy fingers, her gaze narrowed as she heard the rustle of movement in her proximity. However, despite the fight-or-flight reflex that her years of hunting had honed within her, there was no desire to act on it. Her fingers released the bow, rising up to coil about her body. Instinctively, Calliope clung to the warmth of her himations, feeling the conflict between a desire for death, her duty to survive, and the instinctive self-preservation that all human beings were inlaid with.
Then, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, dainty fingertips brushing against the fabric of her himation. She noticed the shadow spill over her body as she pushed herself more firmly into the tree. The echo of the call for her mother was still strong in her thoughts, and she imagined for a moment the face of Ebele of Aetaea as she looked upon the lady of the province. Then, her eyes widened. She imagined herself in Elysium, walking through the blessed fields and facing her mother in death. The chill seemed to evaporate, but it was simply the himation tight against her flesh that warmed her. She listened without seeing, the soft question posed in the voice of Ebele of Aetaea and Calliope couldn't help but feel the hot tears sting at her cheeks as the fervent ticking within her chest raced higher and higher.
Hands reached forward instinctively, drawing to Iris' face. It wasn't until her fingers brushed against a jawline to distinct contrast of Ebele's that she drew back. The beautiful image of Calliope's mother withered away and she wrapped her arms around herself. Mortified, Calliope's eyes widened. Iris' voice had been comforting to the point of lulling her completely into hallucination, and the woman was completely off guard. She was bared, a mess of emotion, to a woman she knew immediately by face but not with any sort of familiarity. She stammered aloud,
"I-I-I-I'm s-s-so sorry, my l-lady!"
There was no mistaking the visage of the daughter of the baron of Aetaea. She'd seen her many a time from the distance, but never would she have expected any sort of attention from the woman, let alone an inquiry as to needing assistance. Immediately she shook her head, a cold breath filling her lungs. She felt the rush of the situation overwhelm her, but composure was as it did, and she felt the cold air quickly calm her senses as her fingers rubbed into her icy himation.
"I didn't mean to... touch you like that. I... don't think I need any help, but your inquiry is much appreciated, my lady. Were you out hunting? I hope my blithering hasn't spread the game out too far for you to continue," she mused, doing her utmost to change the subject.
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Mar 26, 2020 8:41:26 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Mar 26, 2020 8:41:26 GMT
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The circumstances of Calliope's existence were not so easily wrought. There was nothing that kept her attached to Aetaea. Her father was losing his soul to greed and to booze, her mother was dead, a memory wilted away and draining both daughter and widower of any sort of compassion. If the young woman stayed in Aetaea, the point of contention between father and daughter would draw to an inevitable climax and Calliope, despite her hatred for the man couldn't bring herself to that end. If only for the memories she clung fondly to as she nursed her bruises and isolated herself from the hollow wretch wearing her father's face.
No, marriage was the inevitability, the release from that hatred and quite possibly the ewer from which a new sort of hatred would be drunk. She hadn't yet met her would-be spouse and she didn't want to. Perhaps it was fitting for her to remove the cloaks she bore, to hide herself in the frigid weather until the heat left her body and she fertilized the soil with her inert body. Calliope clutched at the bow with icy fingers, her gaze narrowed as she heard the rustle of movement in her proximity. However, despite the fight-or-flight reflex that her years of hunting had honed within her, there was no desire to act on it. Her fingers released the bow, rising up to coil about her body. Instinctively, Calliope clung to the warmth of her himations, feeling the conflict between a desire for death, her duty to survive, and the instinctive self-preservation that all human beings were inlaid with.
Then, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, dainty fingertips brushing against the fabric of her himation. She noticed the shadow spill over her body as she pushed herself more firmly into the tree. The echo of the call for her mother was still strong in her thoughts, and she imagined for a moment the face of Ebele of Aetaea as she looked upon the lady of the province. Then, her eyes widened. She imagined herself in Elysium, walking through the blessed fields and facing her mother in death. The chill seemed to evaporate, but it was simply the himation tight against her flesh that warmed her. She listened without seeing, the soft question posed in the voice of Ebele of Aetaea and Calliope couldn't help but feel the hot tears sting at her cheeks as the fervent ticking within her chest raced higher and higher.
Hands reached forward instinctively, drawing to Iris' face. It wasn't until her fingers brushed against a jawline to distinct contrast of Ebele's that she drew back. The beautiful image of Calliope's mother withered away and she wrapped her arms around herself. Mortified, Calliope's eyes widened. Iris' voice had been comforting to the point of lulling her completely into hallucination, and the woman was completely off guard. She was bared, a mess of emotion, to a woman she knew immediately by face but not with any sort of familiarity. She stammered aloud,
"I-I-I-I'm s-s-so sorry, my l-lady!"
There was no mistaking the visage of the daughter of the baron of Aetaea. She'd seen her many a time from the distance, but never would she have expected any sort of attention from the woman, let alone an inquiry as to needing assistance. Immediately she shook her head, a cold breath filling her lungs. She felt the rush of the situation overwhelm her, but composure was as it did, and she felt the cold air quickly calm her senses as her fingers rubbed into her icy himation.
"I didn't mean to... touch you like that. I... don't think I need any help, but your inquiry is much appreciated, my lady. Were you out hunting? I hope my blithering hasn't spread the game out too far for you to continue," she mused, doing her utmost to change the subject.
The circumstances of Calliope's existence were not so easily wrought. There was nothing that kept her attached to Aetaea. Her father was losing his soul to greed and to booze, her mother was dead, a memory wilted away and draining both daughter and widower of any sort of compassion. If the young woman stayed in Aetaea, the point of contention between father and daughter would draw to an inevitable climax and Calliope, despite her hatred for the man couldn't bring herself to that end. If only for the memories she clung fondly to as she nursed her bruises and isolated herself from the hollow wretch wearing her father's face.
No, marriage was the inevitability, the release from that hatred and quite possibly the ewer from which a new sort of hatred would be drunk. She hadn't yet met her would-be spouse and she didn't want to. Perhaps it was fitting for her to remove the cloaks she bore, to hide herself in the frigid weather until the heat left her body and she fertilized the soil with her inert body. Calliope clutched at the bow with icy fingers, her gaze narrowed as she heard the rustle of movement in her proximity. However, despite the fight-or-flight reflex that her years of hunting had honed within her, there was no desire to act on it. Her fingers released the bow, rising up to coil about her body. Instinctively, Calliope clung to the warmth of her himations, feeling the conflict between a desire for death, her duty to survive, and the instinctive self-preservation that all human beings were inlaid with.
Then, she felt a warm hand on her shoulder, dainty fingertips brushing against the fabric of her himation. She noticed the shadow spill over her body as she pushed herself more firmly into the tree. The echo of the call for her mother was still strong in her thoughts, and she imagined for a moment the face of Ebele of Aetaea as she looked upon the lady of the province. Then, her eyes widened. She imagined herself in Elysium, walking through the blessed fields and facing her mother in death. The chill seemed to evaporate, but it was simply the himation tight against her flesh that warmed her. She listened without seeing, the soft question posed in the voice of Ebele of Aetaea and Calliope couldn't help but feel the hot tears sting at her cheeks as the fervent ticking within her chest raced higher and higher.
Hands reached forward instinctively, drawing to Iris' face. It wasn't until her fingers brushed against a jawline to distinct contrast of Ebele's that she drew back. The beautiful image of Calliope's mother withered away and she wrapped her arms around herself. Mortified, Calliope's eyes widened. Iris' voice had been comforting to the point of lulling her completely into hallucination, and the woman was completely off guard. She was bared, a mess of emotion, to a woman she knew immediately by face but not with any sort of familiarity. She stammered aloud,
"I-I-I-I'm s-s-so sorry, my l-lady!"
There was no mistaking the visage of the daughter of the baron of Aetaea. She'd seen her many a time from the distance, but never would she have expected any sort of attention from the woman, let alone an inquiry as to needing assistance. Immediately she shook her head, a cold breath filling her lungs. She felt the rush of the situation overwhelm her, but composure was as it did, and she felt the cold air quickly calm her senses as her fingers rubbed into her icy himation.
"I didn't mean to... touch you like that. I... don't think I need any help, but your inquiry is much appreciated, my lady. Were you out hunting? I hope my blithering hasn't spread the game out too far for you to continue," she mused, doing her utmost to change the subject.
When she had approached the young woman laying close to one of the larger trees in the forest, the young lady had not expected the course of events that happened hense. She hadn't expected to truly wake the young woman, nor did she expect the far away look that had settled on Calliope's features the moment that the girl saw Iris' face. At first, pure concern settled on her features, wondering if the cold had taken her mind already and debating whether she should give Calliope her own himation in order to help her warm up. But it was that look in her eye that kept Iris from moving and kept her from saying anything at all at first. What if she was sleepwalking? She had heard that waking someone who was sleep walking was never a good idea, so she didn't make a move to do so now.
But it was the brush of Calliope's fingers on Iris' jaw, on her skin, that had her sucking in a breath of pure shock and surprise. She hadn't expected to feel any touch at all with how ghostly Calliope had looked at first. Iris was still debating whether the girl was real or imagined, but the icy fingers on her jaw were the only signs of life she needed to feel. Iris' dark brows furrowed and she shook her head slowly when Calliope quickly pulled away and started to stutter a cold apology. Not cold because she was emotionally cold, but cold because the air was frigid and there was no reason that anyone should have been laying on the ground in this weather.
"No," Iris said softly at first, her green gaze soft, "It is entirely okay," she excused Calliope softly, looking her up and down with the same amount of concern that she had had when she first approached her. "I am not insulted by something so simple as touch, friend," she continued, shaking her dark curls again. "But I was hunting, though I've found a different sort of prize and I've already been convinced that maybe the both of us should get out of this cold before it takes both of our minds," Iris let a smile grace her lips and she motioned to the forest around them. "The game is always scarce in this season," she murmured, shaking her head, "I'm not sure there was anything to find to begin with."
There was a bit of a pause as Iris debated her next course of action. Never one to really push people away, Iris did often tend to like to play into the stereotypical Athenian role. The role that stated that Athenian's were warm and inviting when it came to their homes. "Are you alright...?" she asked, trailing off when she couldn't seem to remember the girl's name. Her smile turned sheepish, "Would you like to come inside for a warm drink and a meal?" she asked, motioning back in the direction of the Aetaean manor that Iris lived within.
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Jun 1, 2020 16:33:47 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Jun 1, 2020 16:33:47 GMT
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When she had approached the young woman laying close to one of the larger trees in the forest, the young lady had not expected the course of events that happened hense. She hadn't expected to truly wake the young woman, nor did she expect the far away look that had settled on Calliope's features the moment that the girl saw Iris' face. At first, pure concern settled on her features, wondering if the cold had taken her mind already and debating whether she should give Calliope her own himation in order to help her warm up. But it was that look in her eye that kept Iris from moving and kept her from saying anything at all at first. What if she was sleepwalking? She had heard that waking someone who was sleep walking was never a good idea, so she didn't make a move to do so now.
But it was the brush of Calliope's fingers on Iris' jaw, on her skin, that had her sucking in a breath of pure shock and surprise. She hadn't expected to feel any touch at all with how ghostly Calliope had looked at first. Iris was still debating whether the girl was real or imagined, but the icy fingers on her jaw were the only signs of life she needed to feel. Iris' dark brows furrowed and she shook her head slowly when Calliope quickly pulled away and started to stutter a cold apology. Not cold because she was emotionally cold, but cold because the air was frigid and there was no reason that anyone should have been laying on the ground in this weather.
"No," Iris said softly at first, her green gaze soft, "It is entirely okay," she excused Calliope softly, looking her up and down with the same amount of concern that she had had when she first approached her. "I am not insulted by something so simple as touch, friend," she continued, shaking her dark curls again. "But I was hunting, though I've found a different sort of prize and I've already been convinced that maybe the both of us should get out of this cold before it takes both of our minds," Iris let a smile grace her lips and she motioned to the forest around them. "The game is always scarce in this season," she murmured, shaking her head, "I'm not sure there was anything to find to begin with."
There was a bit of a pause as Iris debated her next course of action. Never one to really push people away, Iris did often tend to like to play into the stereotypical Athenian role. The role that stated that Athenian's were warm and inviting when it came to their homes. "Are you alright...?" she asked, trailing off when she couldn't seem to remember the girl's name. Her smile turned sheepish, "Would you like to come inside for a warm drink and a meal?" she asked, motioning back in the direction of the Aetaean manor that Iris lived within.
When she had approached the young woman laying close to one of the larger trees in the forest, the young lady had not expected the course of events that happened hense. She hadn't expected to truly wake the young woman, nor did she expect the far away look that had settled on Calliope's features the moment that the girl saw Iris' face. At first, pure concern settled on her features, wondering if the cold had taken her mind already and debating whether she should give Calliope her own himation in order to help her warm up. But it was that look in her eye that kept Iris from moving and kept her from saying anything at all at first. What if she was sleepwalking? She had heard that waking someone who was sleep walking was never a good idea, so she didn't make a move to do so now.
But it was the brush of Calliope's fingers on Iris' jaw, on her skin, that had her sucking in a breath of pure shock and surprise. She hadn't expected to feel any touch at all with how ghostly Calliope had looked at first. Iris was still debating whether the girl was real or imagined, but the icy fingers on her jaw were the only signs of life she needed to feel. Iris' dark brows furrowed and she shook her head slowly when Calliope quickly pulled away and started to stutter a cold apology. Not cold because she was emotionally cold, but cold because the air was frigid and there was no reason that anyone should have been laying on the ground in this weather.
"No," Iris said softly at first, her green gaze soft, "It is entirely okay," she excused Calliope softly, looking her up and down with the same amount of concern that she had had when she first approached her. "I am not insulted by something so simple as touch, friend," she continued, shaking her dark curls again. "But I was hunting, though I've found a different sort of prize and I've already been convinced that maybe the both of us should get out of this cold before it takes both of our minds," Iris let a smile grace her lips and she motioned to the forest around them. "The game is always scarce in this season," she murmured, shaking her head, "I'm not sure there was anything to find to begin with."
There was a bit of a pause as Iris debated her next course of action. Never one to really push people away, Iris did often tend to like to play into the stereotypical Athenian role. The role that stated that Athenian's were warm and inviting when it came to their homes. "Are you alright...?" she asked, trailing off when she couldn't seem to remember the girl's name. Her smile turned sheepish, "Would you like to come inside for a warm drink and a meal?" she asked, motioning back in the direction of the Aetaean manor that Iris lived within.
It was an anomaly, to see the face of nobility come from the visage of her mother. It was a terrible thing, to see the beautiful expression of Ebele of Aetaea turn to Lady Iris' concerned one. Where Ana expected a specter to guide her to Elysium, she instead saw yet another mark that she remained in the physical plane and the innumerable problems that came with that fact. Then came the bit of forgiveness as Iris excused her for her inappropriate touching of the Lady's face. Calliope felt the heat threaten to break free from her core. She felt the burning at her cheeks, the flush of life returning with the embarrassment of the moment. It was almost irksome, how the imagination brought with it the visage of the divine in the noble's features.
In her reverie, Calliope saw Iris bathed in a glow of light, her soft words and amicable disposition seeking to start a fire within a chest the commoner hoped to see extinguished. She called Calliope 'friend' and the very admission sent a jolt through the woman's spine. Eyes widened, and the world seemed to return to normalcy. The light waned to a tolerable level, and she arched her eyebrows as the mention of a different prize caught her ears. The only thing Iris had caught was a common wretch wading in her own misery. However, even as Calliope denied herself of any value, the raging pulse within her chest almost defiantly fought against the death she almost seemed to chase after.
Helpless to refuse the noble, Calliope nodded in agreement. She had too many good points. The game was scarce. Coming out to an Aetaea wrought with frost was a foolish game, but one that she'd very much wanted to play. Up until just now, when Lady Iris offered to pluck her from the frost and take her inside the famed manor in the wilds... she looked to her death without fear. Ebele of Aetaea's absence was felt so staunchly so many years later, as Alexis finally allowed his mind to unravel and his world to come into naught. Then, he surrendered his daughter to an unknown man, certainly a fiend. Dowries were by no means new to Calliope of Aetaea, but offering such a thing to a wretch such as Alexis... it reeked of foul play.
The words continued to echo throughout Calliope's thoughts. The invitation, the show of concern. The young woman shook her head, at last risen from the frosted ground and brushing the ice from her limbs. She shook her hair, letting it fall easily over one shoulder before she answered,
"Really, it's not a..." she shook her head. After all, refusal would be seen possibly as an affront to the creature who'd brought her back from the hellscape of hallucination. The touch alone was enough to choke the words from her mouth. She acquiesced, nodding slowly before she fell into step just behind Lady Iris. It would be improper for her to step side-by-side, an insult to her station and overstatement of her own. The commoner followed, raising her icy fingertips to her hair as if to subtly fix the errors in her appearance. If she was to enter the noble's company... she'd at least do her utmost to look presentable.
"I won't stay for long, my lady. Your generosity knows no bounds, offering someone like me a seat at your table..." Calliope felt her teeth clutch at the supple flesh of her lip, hazel orbs following the forged path of Lady Iris' footsteps. It was easy to keep pace with her, as the cold shook away from her senses, as the embarrassment stole a flush throughout the whole of her body. She felt numb at the extremities, dirty from her time on the ground... But Calliope put up her best face, letting the barest flicker of a smile cast upon her lips.
"It's a wonderful thing to see another woman in the hunting grounds," she began. Often enough, despite the fact that it was Artemis who presided over these lands, women were relegated to the mundane tasks of skinning game, tanning hide, and cooking the meat. Of course, Calliope did all of that, as well. But, nevertheless, it amazed the girl that the lady had anything of the sort in common with her.
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Jun 5, 2020 11:20:37 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Jun 5, 2020 11:20:37 GMT
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It was an anomaly, to see the face of nobility come from the visage of her mother. It was a terrible thing, to see the beautiful expression of Ebele of Aetaea turn to Lady Iris' concerned one. Where Ana expected a specter to guide her to Elysium, she instead saw yet another mark that she remained in the physical plane and the innumerable problems that came with that fact. Then came the bit of forgiveness as Iris excused her for her inappropriate touching of the Lady's face. Calliope felt the heat threaten to break free from her core. She felt the burning at her cheeks, the flush of life returning with the embarrassment of the moment. It was almost irksome, how the imagination brought with it the visage of the divine in the noble's features.
In her reverie, Calliope saw Iris bathed in a glow of light, her soft words and amicable disposition seeking to start a fire within a chest the commoner hoped to see extinguished. She called Calliope 'friend' and the very admission sent a jolt through the woman's spine. Eyes widened, and the world seemed to return to normalcy. The light waned to a tolerable level, and she arched her eyebrows as the mention of a different prize caught her ears. The only thing Iris had caught was a common wretch wading in her own misery. However, even as Calliope denied herself of any value, the raging pulse within her chest almost defiantly fought against the death she almost seemed to chase after.
Helpless to refuse the noble, Calliope nodded in agreement. She had too many good points. The game was scarce. Coming out to an Aetaea wrought with frost was a foolish game, but one that she'd very much wanted to play. Up until just now, when Lady Iris offered to pluck her from the frost and take her inside the famed manor in the wilds... she looked to her death without fear. Ebele of Aetaea's absence was felt so staunchly so many years later, as Alexis finally allowed his mind to unravel and his world to come into naught. Then, he surrendered his daughter to an unknown man, certainly a fiend. Dowries were by no means new to Calliope of Aetaea, but offering such a thing to a wretch such as Alexis... it reeked of foul play.
The words continued to echo throughout Calliope's thoughts. The invitation, the show of concern. The young woman shook her head, at last risen from the frosted ground and brushing the ice from her limbs. She shook her hair, letting it fall easily over one shoulder before she answered,
"Really, it's not a..." she shook her head. After all, refusal would be seen possibly as an affront to the creature who'd brought her back from the hellscape of hallucination. The touch alone was enough to choke the words from her mouth. She acquiesced, nodding slowly before she fell into step just behind Lady Iris. It would be improper for her to step side-by-side, an insult to her station and overstatement of her own. The commoner followed, raising her icy fingertips to her hair as if to subtly fix the errors in her appearance. If she was to enter the noble's company... she'd at least do her utmost to look presentable.
"I won't stay for long, my lady. Your generosity knows no bounds, offering someone like me a seat at your table..." Calliope felt her teeth clutch at the supple flesh of her lip, hazel orbs following the forged path of Lady Iris' footsteps. It was easy to keep pace with her, as the cold shook away from her senses, as the embarrassment stole a flush throughout the whole of her body. She felt numb at the extremities, dirty from her time on the ground... But Calliope put up her best face, letting the barest flicker of a smile cast upon her lips.
"It's a wonderful thing to see another woman in the hunting grounds," she began. Often enough, despite the fact that it was Artemis who presided over these lands, women were relegated to the mundane tasks of skinning game, tanning hide, and cooking the meat. Of course, Calliope did all of that, as well. But, nevertheless, it amazed the girl that the lady had anything of the sort in common with her.
It was an anomaly, to see the face of nobility come from the visage of her mother. It was a terrible thing, to see the beautiful expression of Ebele of Aetaea turn to Lady Iris' concerned one. Where Ana expected a specter to guide her to Elysium, she instead saw yet another mark that she remained in the physical plane and the innumerable problems that came with that fact. Then came the bit of forgiveness as Iris excused her for her inappropriate touching of the Lady's face. Calliope felt the heat threaten to break free from her core. She felt the burning at her cheeks, the flush of life returning with the embarrassment of the moment. It was almost irksome, how the imagination brought with it the visage of the divine in the noble's features.
In her reverie, Calliope saw Iris bathed in a glow of light, her soft words and amicable disposition seeking to start a fire within a chest the commoner hoped to see extinguished. She called Calliope 'friend' and the very admission sent a jolt through the woman's spine. Eyes widened, and the world seemed to return to normalcy. The light waned to a tolerable level, and she arched her eyebrows as the mention of a different prize caught her ears. The only thing Iris had caught was a common wretch wading in her own misery. However, even as Calliope denied herself of any value, the raging pulse within her chest almost defiantly fought against the death she almost seemed to chase after.
Helpless to refuse the noble, Calliope nodded in agreement. She had too many good points. The game was scarce. Coming out to an Aetaea wrought with frost was a foolish game, but one that she'd very much wanted to play. Up until just now, when Lady Iris offered to pluck her from the frost and take her inside the famed manor in the wilds... she looked to her death without fear. Ebele of Aetaea's absence was felt so staunchly so many years later, as Alexis finally allowed his mind to unravel and his world to come into naught. Then, he surrendered his daughter to an unknown man, certainly a fiend. Dowries were by no means new to Calliope of Aetaea, but offering such a thing to a wretch such as Alexis... it reeked of foul play.
The words continued to echo throughout Calliope's thoughts. The invitation, the show of concern. The young woman shook her head, at last risen from the frosted ground and brushing the ice from her limbs. She shook her hair, letting it fall easily over one shoulder before she answered,
"Really, it's not a..." she shook her head. After all, refusal would be seen possibly as an affront to the creature who'd brought her back from the hellscape of hallucination. The touch alone was enough to choke the words from her mouth. She acquiesced, nodding slowly before she fell into step just behind Lady Iris. It would be improper for her to step side-by-side, an insult to her station and overstatement of her own. The commoner followed, raising her icy fingertips to her hair as if to subtly fix the errors in her appearance. If she was to enter the noble's company... she'd at least do her utmost to look presentable.
"I won't stay for long, my lady. Your generosity knows no bounds, offering someone like me a seat at your table..." Calliope felt her teeth clutch at the supple flesh of her lip, hazel orbs following the forged path of Lady Iris' footsteps. It was easy to keep pace with her, as the cold shook away from her senses, as the embarrassment stole a flush throughout the whole of her body. She felt numb at the extremities, dirty from her time on the ground... But Calliope put up her best face, letting the barest flicker of a smile cast upon her lips.
"It's a wonderful thing to see another woman in the hunting grounds," she began. Often enough, despite the fact that it was Artemis who presided over these lands, women were relegated to the mundane tasks of skinning game, tanning hide, and cooking the meat. Of course, Calliope did all of that, as well. But, nevertheless, it amazed the girl that the lady had anything of the sort in common with her.
Iris wasn't going to let the young woman reject her, even if she tried. They had already passed a point that would be hard to return from, and Iris was not about to let the young woman remain in the cold to freeze to death. That was an affront to both her nature and her station as the lady of Aetaea to just let one of her people die without offering the slightest bit of aid to the woman. She would take it, and then everything would be out of Iris' hands. If Calliope of Aetaea did not survive this next night despite Iris' aid, then it would have been fated by the gods. But until then, the girl would follow her to the manor and deal with Iris' fussing.
"You will stay for as long as you need to clean up, get warm, and leave with warmer clothing than what you are currently wearing," Iris declared calmly, not looking back at her as the two of them walked single file together. Iris thought nothing of Calliope walking behind her, knowing the girl to be too frozen to do any damage to Iris even if she wanted to. Besides, Iris was sure she could put the other woman into the dirt far faster than Calliope could try. Not that Iris thought the girl had any ill will toward her. "Actually, you will stay the night in the manor. I'll not have you wandering out in the cold. I'll have someone escort you back to the town tomorrow," the woman added, not taking no for an answer yet again. Nothing Calliope would say would get her to change her mind.
But the change of topic had Iris turning her head to look back at Calliope, a small smirk on her features. "I have always taken to hunting, for I feel close to Artemis when I walk these forests with a bow in hand and an arrow knocked," she declared with humor in her voice. "Besides, many of my servants are too weak of stomach to do the hunting themselves, so I take it upon myself to make sure that our table is filled in the winter," she continued.
The walk to the manor was not long, and before long the two of them were walking up the steps and into the home, where they were met with a myraid of servants ready with blankets and warm drinks and assertions that luncheon would be set in the dining room soon enough. "What were you doing out there, laying on the ground like that?" Iris asked once the servants had all left them alone, her green gaze finally looking Calliope up and down in her entirety.
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Aug 17, 2020 14:57:02 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Aug 17, 2020 14:57:02 GMT
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Iris wasn't going to let the young woman reject her, even if she tried. They had already passed a point that would be hard to return from, and Iris was not about to let the young woman remain in the cold to freeze to death. That was an affront to both her nature and her station as the lady of Aetaea to just let one of her people die without offering the slightest bit of aid to the woman. She would take it, and then everything would be out of Iris' hands. If Calliope of Aetaea did not survive this next night despite Iris' aid, then it would have been fated by the gods. But until then, the girl would follow her to the manor and deal with Iris' fussing.
"You will stay for as long as you need to clean up, get warm, and leave with warmer clothing than what you are currently wearing," Iris declared calmly, not looking back at her as the two of them walked single file together. Iris thought nothing of Calliope walking behind her, knowing the girl to be too frozen to do any damage to Iris even if she wanted to. Besides, Iris was sure she could put the other woman into the dirt far faster than Calliope could try. Not that Iris thought the girl had any ill will toward her. "Actually, you will stay the night in the manor. I'll not have you wandering out in the cold. I'll have someone escort you back to the town tomorrow," the woman added, not taking no for an answer yet again. Nothing Calliope would say would get her to change her mind.
But the change of topic had Iris turning her head to look back at Calliope, a small smirk on her features. "I have always taken to hunting, for I feel close to Artemis when I walk these forests with a bow in hand and an arrow knocked," she declared with humor in her voice. "Besides, many of my servants are too weak of stomach to do the hunting themselves, so I take it upon myself to make sure that our table is filled in the winter," she continued.
The walk to the manor was not long, and before long the two of them were walking up the steps and into the home, where they were met with a myraid of servants ready with blankets and warm drinks and assertions that luncheon would be set in the dining room soon enough. "What were you doing out there, laying on the ground like that?" Iris asked once the servants had all left them alone, her green gaze finally looking Calliope up and down in her entirety.
Iris wasn't going to let the young woman reject her, even if she tried. They had already passed a point that would be hard to return from, and Iris was not about to let the young woman remain in the cold to freeze to death. That was an affront to both her nature and her station as the lady of Aetaea to just let one of her people die without offering the slightest bit of aid to the woman. She would take it, and then everything would be out of Iris' hands. If Calliope of Aetaea did not survive this next night despite Iris' aid, then it would have been fated by the gods. But until then, the girl would follow her to the manor and deal with Iris' fussing.
"You will stay for as long as you need to clean up, get warm, and leave with warmer clothing than what you are currently wearing," Iris declared calmly, not looking back at her as the two of them walked single file together. Iris thought nothing of Calliope walking behind her, knowing the girl to be too frozen to do any damage to Iris even if she wanted to. Besides, Iris was sure she could put the other woman into the dirt far faster than Calliope could try. Not that Iris thought the girl had any ill will toward her. "Actually, you will stay the night in the manor. I'll not have you wandering out in the cold. I'll have someone escort you back to the town tomorrow," the woman added, not taking no for an answer yet again. Nothing Calliope would say would get her to change her mind.
But the change of topic had Iris turning her head to look back at Calliope, a small smirk on her features. "I have always taken to hunting, for I feel close to Artemis when I walk these forests with a bow in hand and an arrow knocked," she declared with humor in her voice. "Besides, many of my servants are too weak of stomach to do the hunting themselves, so I take it upon myself to make sure that our table is filled in the winter," she continued.
The walk to the manor was not long, and before long the two of them were walking up the steps and into the home, where they were met with a myraid of servants ready with blankets and warm drinks and assertions that luncheon would be set in the dining room soon enough. "What were you doing out there, laying on the ground like that?" Iris asked once the servants had all left them alone, her green gaze finally looking Calliope up and down in her entirety.
The charity of the nobility was not something that was spoken to. Often enough, the classism apparent within Greke society separated the haves and have-nots by a sort of veil. While the kingdoms of Greece were just that, with their kings and queens, they were at the basis of it all, plutocracies by the means the rest of the govern-ship was taken care of. Lords with powerful names and deep coffers ruled over the world, and seldom did they care for those "insects" beneath them.
The harsh realities of the world were not forgotten by her, nor would they ever be. From the last memories of Ebele of Aetaea to her observing the collapse of her father into the soulless husk that planned to sell her away. But, Iris of Argyris gave Calliope a sort of... hope. Was it possible that Alector could be like her? the thought wedged itself for a moment before she cast it aside. The generosity of the moment wasn't to be forgotten in the midst of a hypothetical kindness. She listened intently to every word the noble spoke, trudging along behind her.
There was never a thought to stab her saviour in the back. Rather than dwell on the moment, or much of anything at all, she was stunned. Momentary flickers, of meanderings about generosity, to her future, to the condition she was in. She'd been stupid, thinking she could wander off alone into the forest. Someone, or something would inevitably find her. Hunters with hounds, her father himself hunting after his meal ticket... The hunting grounds... Instinctively, the bow that the frozen huntress had was taken hold of, but she kept it low. She'd forgotten her quiver, but... there was no sense in returning for it. Besides, it seemed unlikely that this noble would let her out of her sight.
Such grand altruism.
She almost felt sarcastic about it all, a layer of ire and distaste for not being let to die settling on top of the gratitude she wanted to feel. Bitterness was a beast, baring its teeth, but not at the noblewoman. She directed them at herself as she walked. As her blood began flowing again with the movement, she felt a small sense of herself returning.
Stay the night? Why are you...
Every moment they spent together served to astonish Calliope.
"I agree with the sentiment..." she answered at last, just as Iris spoke to the point of proximity to Artemis and the filling of an empty table. She'd lived that life, too. Being the provider while another leeched on the labours. In Iris' case, it was done, she presumed, lovingly. If begrudgingly? Calliope couldn't be too sure, not quite completing her assessment of the noble.
"It might've been kinder, leaving me there to die. I appreciate your generosity, my lady, but people don't just sit in the snow for the sake of it. The life waiting for me, once I leave your... care... is not one where I can feel close to Artemis. At least, that's how it comes across to me. Maybe a more optimistic person has a different opinion."
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Sept 7, 2020 20:40:44 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Sept 7, 2020 20:40:44 GMT
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The charity of the nobility was not something that was spoken to. Often enough, the classism apparent within Greke society separated the haves and have-nots by a sort of veil. While the kingdoms of Greece were just that, with their kings and queens, they were at the basis of it all, plutocracies by the means the rest of the govern-ship was taken care of. Lords with powerful names and deep coffers ruled over the world, and seldom did they care for those "insects" beneath them.
The harsh realities of the world were not forgotten by her, nor would they ever be. From the last memories of Ebele of Aetaea to her observing the collapse of her father into the soulless husk that planned to sell her away. But, Iris of Argyris gave Calliope a sort of... hope. Was it possible that Alector could be like her? the thought wedged itself for a moment before she cast it aside. The generosity of the moment wasn't to be forgotten in the midst of a hypothetical kindness. She listened intently to every word the noble spoke, trudging along behind her.
There was never a thought to stab her saviour in the back. Rather than dwell on the moment, or much of anything at all, she was stunned. Momentary flickers, of meanderings about generosity, to her future, to the condition she was in. She'd been stupid, thinking she could wander off alone into the forest. Someone, or something would inevitably find her. Hunters with hounds, her father himself hunting after his meal ticket... The hunting grounds... Instinctively, the bow that the frozen huntress had was taken hold of, but she kept it low. She'd forgotten her quiver, but... there was no sense in returning for it. Besides, it seemed unlikely that this noble would let her out of her sight.
Such grand altruism.
She almost felt sarcastic about it all, a layer of ire and distaste for not being let to die settling on top of the gratitude she wanted to feel. Bitterness was a beast, baring its teeth, but not at the noblewoman. She directed them at herself as she walked. As her blood began flowing again with the movement, she felt a small sense of herself returning.
Stay the night? Why are you...
Every moment they spent together served to astonish Calliope.
"I agree with the sentiment..." she answered at last, just as Iris spoke to the point of proximity to Artemis and the filling of an empty table. She'd lived that life, too. Being the provider while another leeched on the labours. In Iris' case, it was done, she presumed, lovingly. If begrudgingly? Calliope couldn't be too sure, not quite completing her assessment of the noble.
"It might've been kinder, leaving me there to die. I appreciate your generosity, my lady, but people don't just sit in the snow for the sake of it. The life waiting for me, once I leave your... care... is not one where I can feel close to Artemis. At least, that's how it comes across to me. Maybe a more optimistic person has a different opinion."
The charity of the nobility was not something that was spoken to. Often enough, the classism apparent within Greke society separated the haves and have-nots by a sort of veil. While the kingdoms of Greece were just that, with their kings and queens, they were at the basis of it all, plutocracies by the means the rest of the govern-ship was taken care of. Lords with powerful names and deep coffers ruled over the world, and seldom did they care for those "insects" beneath them.
The harsh realities of the world were not forgotten by her, nor would they ever be. From the last memories of Ebele of Aetaea to her observing the collapse of her father into the soulless husk that planned to sell her away. But, Iris of Argyris gave Calliope a sort of... hope. Was it possible that Alector could be like her? the thought wedged itself for a moment before she cast it aside. The generosity of the moment wasn't to be forgotten in the midst of a hypothetical kindness. She listened intently to every word the noble spoke, trudging along behind her.
There was never a thought to stab her saviour in the back. Rather than dwell on the moment, or much of anything at all, she was stunned. Momentary flickers, of meanderings about generosity, to her future, to the condition she was in. She'd been stupid, thinking she could wander off alone into the forest. Someone, or something would inevitably find her. Hunters with hounds, her father himself hunting after his meal ticket... The hunting grounds... Instinctively, the bow that the frozen huntress had was taken hold of, but she kept it low. She'd forgotten her quiver, but... there was no sense in returning for it. Besides, it seemed unlikely that this noble would let her out of her sight.
Such grand altruism.
She almost felt sarcastic about it all, a layer of ire and distaste for not being let to die settling on top of the gratitude she wanted to feel. Bitterness was a beast, baring its teeth, but not at the noblewoman. She directed them at herself as she walked. As her blood began flowing again with the movement, she felt a small sense of herself returning.
Stay the night? Why are you...
Every moment they spent together served to astonish Calliope.
"I agree with the sentiment..." she answered at last, just as Iris spoke to the point of proximity to Artemis and the filling of an empty table. She'd lived that life, too. Being the provider while another leeched on the labours. In Iris' case, it was done, she presumed, lovingly. If begrudgingly? Calliope couldn't be too sure, not quite completing her assessment of the noble.
"It might've been kinder, leaving me there to die. I appreciate your generosity, my lady, but people don't just sit in the snow for the sake of it. The life waiting for me, once I leave your... care... is not one where I can feel close to Artemis. At least, that's how it comes across to me. Maybe a more optimistic person has a different opinion."
"I am sorry," Iris said slowly, her gaze flicking to Calliope with a keen look in her eye. She motioned for Calliope to settle down in one of the blush chaises, a blanket being handed to her by a servant. "But I couldn't allow you to lay out there and freeze," Iris said slowly, "And I will not allow you to go back out there, either," she said pointedly as she sat and a warm drink was handed to her. "Thank you, Acantha," she murmured to her lady in waiting before the young woman settled down beside Iris, her features stunning and bright. The lady looked Calliope up and down as well, in the same way that Iris had, but said nothing.
"Tell me more about this life that you speak of," Iris said after a few long moments, "If there is something going on that you are against, I could not, in good conscience, release you to whoever or whatever it is that you are dreading," the lady murmured, "For it is my job to ensure that my people are happy and safe, and you seem most unhappy," Iris commented then. She brought her cup to her lips, considering Calliope with a far more gentle eye now that she had a chance. The girl looked awfully thin, and that still didn't sit well with Iris. "I cannot help me if you do not at least give me a bit of information," Iris added after a long moment of silence.
In truth, she did want to help Calliope. The girl seemed lost, and Iris wasn't keen on allowing her out of her sight if she was just going to head back into the forest and find herself frozen to death. That would not do, nor would Iris allow that death to settle on her mind for the rest of her life. She would do what she could to help Calliope, if it was in her power to do so. And, as she was the Lady of Aetaea, she was quite sure that she had quite a bit of power where Calliope did not. "Unless you wish to resign youself to the fate you speak of."
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"I am sorry," Iris said slowly, her gaze flicking to Calliope with a keen look in her eye. She motioned for Calliope to settle down in one of the blush chaises, a blanket being handed to her by a servant. "But I couldn't allow you to lay out there and freeze," Iris said slowly, "And I will not allow you to go back out there, either," she said pointedly as she sat and a warm drink was handed to her. "Thank you, Acantha," she murmured to her lady in waiting before the young woman settled down beside Iris, her features stunning and bright. The lady looked Calliope up and down as well, in the same way that Iris had, but said nothing.
"Tell me more about this life that you speak of," Iris said after a few long moments, "If there is something going on that you are against, I could not, in good conscience, release you to whoever or whatever it is that you are dreading," the lady murmured, "For it is my job to ensure that my people are happy and safe, and you seem most unhappy," Iris commented then. She brought her cup to her lips, considering Calliope with a far more gentle eye now that she had a chance. The girl looked awfully thin, and that still didn't sit well with Iris. "I cannot help me if you do not at least give me a bit of information," Iris added after a long moment of silence.
In truth, she did want to help Calliope. The girl seemed lost, and Iris wasn't keen on allowing her out of her sight if she was just going to head back into the forest and find herself frozen to death. That would not do, nor would Iris allow that death to settle on her mind for the rest of her life. She would do what she could to help Calliope, if it was in her power to do so. And, as she was the Lady of Aetaea, she was quite sure that she had quite a bit of power where Calliope did not. "Unless you wish to resign youself to the fate you speak of."
"I am sorry," Iris said slowly, her gaze flicking to Calliope with a keen look in her eye. She motioned for Calliope to settle down in one of the blush chaises, a blanket being handed to her by a servant. "But I couldn't allow you to lay out there and freeze," Iris said slowly, "And I will not allow you to go back out there, either," she said pointedly as she sat and a warm drink was handed to her. "Thank you, Acantha," she murmured to her lady in waiting before the young woman settled down beside Iris, her features stunning and bright. The lady looked Calliope up and down as well, in the same way that Iris had, but said nothing.
"Tell me more about this life that you speak of," Iris said after a few long moments, "If there is something going on that you are against, I could not, in good conscience, release you to whoever or whatever it is that you are dreading," the lady murmured, "For it is my job to ensure that my people are happy and safe, and you seem most unhappy," Iris commented then. She brought her cup to her lips, considering Calliope with a far more gentle eye now that she had a chance. The girl looked awfully thin, and that still didn't sit well with Iris. "I cannot help me if you do not at least give me a bit of information," Iris added after a long moment of silence.
In truth, she did want to help Calliope. The girl seemed lost, and Iris wasn't keen on allowing her out of her sight if she was just going to head back into the forest and find herself frozen to death. That would not do, nor would Iris allow that death to settle on her mind for the rest of her life. She would do what she could to help Calliope, if it was in her power to do so. And, as she was the Lady of Aetaea, she was quite sure that she had quite a bit of power where Calliope did not. "Unless you wish to resign youself to the fate you speak of."
Calliope couldn't help the smile that knitted upon her features. The noble lady of Aetaea had a reputation about her, in more ways than one, and it was a pleasant surprise to hear the insistent generosity that leaked into her words. While Calliope appreciated the effort Iris was making, she wondered exactly what the noblewoman could do for her aside from keeping her from the River Styx.
For a long while, the hypothermic huntress did not speak, her dulled hazel orbs finding Iris' lips to watch those humanitarian promises. To save her both from death and deny her release to whatever unsavoury situation she'd yet to reveal... she couldn't help but wonder. Was it her job? Calliope figured it to be the other way around. Constantly the lower classes were subjugated to the whims of their lords and ladies, absconded without argument.
"You're extremely kind, my lady," she offered, her words falling slowly from her lips as she considered her words. As she ruminated on the nature of her predicament, she felt the twisting within her abdomen. She winced, her nails furling into her palms, wearing at the skin as those dull orbs clouded over with moisture.
"I am to be wed," she stated, the colour and feeling fading from her expression. Numb, cold, the warmth of the blanket on her shoulders was fire spreading along her skin. She shuddered, pulling away from the back of her seat. The moisture beaded, falling from her eyelids and paving a path along ashen features. She laughed, tipping her head back as she added,
"Isn't it a h-happy day? Surely, my fiancé will -ack-... whisk me away and it'll end beautifully. A happy-ever-after paid for in gold."
Her voice cracked, broke. Her lips felt chapped, dry against the movement for uttering words. She lifted a goblet of water to her lips, sputtering it out in a heave before she pressed back against the chair.
"His servants bear scars on their wrists and wince when they move. But, he'll be kind, surely."
If there was sarcasm in her words, they did not ring in her tone. She spoke blandly, her eyes downcast at the table as she shook the blanket from her shoulders, letting it curl into the head of her chair. Calliope shook her head before she rested her elbow on the table, her numbed fingertips brushing against her own jawline in an effort to feel. Iris' hospitality was proving its use, heat restoring colour to her visage even as the maelstrom within felt as frigid, if not more, than the snow she'd thrown herself into.
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Calliope couldn't help the smile that knitted upon her features. The noble lady of Aetaea had a reputation about her, in more ways than one, and it was a pleasant surprise to hear the insistent generosity that leaked into her words. While Calliope appreciated the effort Iris was making, she wondered exactly what the noblewoman could do for her aside from keeping her from the River Styx.
For a long while, the hypothermic huntress did not speak, her dulled hazel orbs finding Iris' lips to watch those humanitarian promises. To save her both from death and deny her release to whatever unsavoury situation she'd yet to reveal... she couldn't help but wonder. Was it her job? Calliope figured it to be the other way around. Constantly the lower classes were subjugated to the whims of their lords and ladies, absconded without argument.
"You're extremely kind, my lady," she offered, her words falling slowly from her lips as she considered her words. As she ruminated on the nature of her predicament, she felt the twisting within her abdomen. She winced, her nails furling into her palms, wearing at the skin as those dull orbs clouded over with moisture.
"I am to be wed," she stated, the colour and feeling fading from her expression. Numb, cold, the warmth of the blanket on her shoulders was fire spreading along her skin. She shuddered, pulling away from the back of her seat. The moisture beaded, falling from her eyelids and paving a path along ashen features. She laughed, tipping her head back as she added,
"Isn't it a h-happy day? Surely, my fiancé will -ack-... whisk me away and it'll end beautifully. A happy-ever-after paid for in gold."
Her voice cracked, broke. Her lips felt chapped, dry against the movement for uttering words. She lifted a goblet of water to her lips, sputtering it out in a heave before she pressed back against the chair.
"His servants bear scars on their wrists and wince when they move. But, he'll be kind, surely."
If there was sarcasm in her words, they did not ring in her tone. She spoke blandly, her eyes downcast at the table as she shook the blanket from her shoulders, letting it curl into the head of her chair. Calliope shook her head before she rested her elbow on the table, her numbed fingertips brushing against her own jawline in an effort to feel. Iris' hospitality was proving its use, heat restoring colour to her visage even as the maelstrom within felt as frigid, if not more, than the snow she'd thrown herself into.
Calliope couldn't help the smile that knitted upon her features. The noble lady of Aetaea had a reputation about her, in more ways than one, and it was a pleasant surprise to hear the insistent generosity that leaked into her words. While Calliope appreciated the effort Iris was making, she wondered exactly what the noblewoman could do for her aside from keeping her from the River Styx.
For a long while, the hypothermic huntress did not speak, her dulled hazel orbs finding Iris' lips to watch those humanitarian promises. To save her both from death and deny her release to whatever unsavoury situation she'd yet to reveal... she couldn't help but wonder. Was it her job? Calliope figured it to be the other way around. Constantly the lower classes were subjugated to the whims of their lords and ladies, absconded without argument.
"You're extremely kind, my lady," she offered, her words falling slowly from her lips as she considered her words. As she ruminated on the nature of her predicament, she felt the twisting within her abdomen. She winced, her nails furling into her palms, wearing at the skin as those dull orbs clouded over with moisture.
"I am to be wed," she stated, the colour and feeling fading from her expression. Numb, cold, the warmth of the blanket on her shoulders was fire spreading along her skin. She shuddered, pulling away from the back of her seat. The moisture beaded, falling from her eyelids and paving a path along ashen features. She laughed, tipping her head back as she added,
"Isn't it a h-happy day? Surely, my fiancé will -ack-... whisk me away and it'll end beautifully. A happy-ever-after paid for in gold."
Her voice cracked, broke. Her lips felt chapped, dry against the movement for uttering words. She lifted a goblet of water to her lips, sputtering it out in a heave before she pressed back against the chair.
"His servants bear scars on their wrists and wince when they move. But, he'll be kind, surely."
If there was sarcasm in her words, they did not ring in her tone. She spoke blandly, her eyes downcast at the table as she shook the blanket from her shoulders, letting it curl into the head of her chair. Calliope shook her head before she rested her elbow on the table, her numbed fingertips brushing against her own jawline in an effort to feel. Iris' hospitality was proving its use, heat restoring colour to her visage even as the maelstrom within felt as frigid, if not more, than the snow she'd thrown herself into.
That... did not sound like a happy bride-to-be, and Iris let herself straighten in her seat as she observed the young woman begin to cry. For Calliope to feel such emotion at the mere prospect of marrying a single man, that much have proven that the match was entirely wrong. There were a few nobles who didn't mind their people suffering, but the Argyris family had never been those nobles. Family was important. Building bonds and creating lasting friendships was important. The admission, though spoken without true admission, that the match was something Calliope was afraid of was enough evidence that it should not happen.
Reaching forward, Iris tried to touch Calliope's hand, her brows furrowed with deepening concern. "It is supposed to be a happy day," Iris said slowly, though she had never truly considered the prospect of marriage but with one man. Her heart squeezed at the thought of Aimias. Then the shame of her having abandoned him seared her thoughts moments later. This was not the same as being brokenhearted. Something truly did not seem right here.
"Was the match made in earnest to benefit both families?" Iris asked slowly, considering the words that Calliope spoke about how the servants in her betrothed's service moved and acted. No, this was not acceptable. Not in any way. And instinct drove Iris to want to protect the girl from further harm or fear. If her idea of escaping was to settle in the forest and let herself freeze to death, then there had to be other options, right?
"You do not speak as if you are sure he will be kind, Calliope. You speak as if you already fear him. Was it your parents that made the match? Surely there can be something done if it does not sit well with your own desires. Most parents do not wish to watch their children suffer," Iris noted, entirely unaware that Calliope's mother had no part in this. If only because she was not in the land of the living at all. Just like Iris' own mother. The only difference was... Takis had her best interests at heart, and it seemed that Calliope's father did not feel the same for his child.
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That... did not sound like a happy bride-to-be, and Iris let herself straighten in her seat as she observed the young woman begin to cry. For Calliope to feel such emotion at the mere prospect of marrying a single man, that much have proven that the match was entirely wrong. There were a few nobles who didn't mind their people suffering, but the Argyris family had never been those nobles. Family was important. Building bonds and creating lasting friendships was important. The admission, though spoken without true admission, that the match was something Calliope was afraid of was enough evidence that it should not happen.
Reaching forward, Iris tried to touch Calliope's hand, her brows furrowed with deepening concern. "It is supposed to be a happy day," Iris said slowly, though she had never truly considered the prospect of marriage but with one man. Her heart squeezed at the thought of Aimias. Then the shame of her having abandoned him seared her thoughts moments later. This was not the same as being brokenhearted. Something truly did not seem right here.
"Was the match made in earnest to benefit both families?" Iris asked slowly, considering the words that Calliope spoke about how the servants in her betrothed's service moved and acted. No, this was not acceptable. Not in any way. And instinct drove Iris to want to protect the girl from further harm or fear. If her idea of escaping was to settle in the forest and let herself freeze to death, then there had to be other options, right?
"You do not speak as if you are sure he will be kind, Calliope. You speak as if you already fear him. Was it your parents that made the match? Surely there can be something done if it does not sit well with your own desires. Most parents do not wish to watch their children suffer," Iris noted, entirely unaware that Calliope's mother had no part in this. If only because she was not in the land of the living at all. Just like Iris' own mother. The only difference was... Takis had her best interests at heart, and it seemed that Calliope's father did not feel the same for his child.
That... did not sound like a happy bride-to-be, and Iris let herself straighten in her seat as she observed the young woman begin to cry. For Calliope to feel such emotion at the mere prospect of marrying a single man, that much have proven that the match was entirely wrong. There were a few nobles who didn't mind their people suffering, but the Argyris family had never been those nobles. Family was important. Building bonds and creating lasting friendships was important. The admission, though spoken without true admission, that the match was something Calliope was afraid of was enough evidence that it should not happen.
Reaching forward, Iris tried to touch Calliope's hand, her brows furrowed with deepening concern. "It is supposed to be a happy day," Iris said slowly, though she had never truly considered the prospect of marriage but with one man. Her heart squeezed at the thought of Aimias. Then the shame of her having abandoned him seared her thoughts moments later. This was not the same as being brokenhearted. Something truly did not seem right here.
"Was the match made in earnest to benefit both families?" Iris asked slowly, considering the words that Calliope spoke about how the servants in her betrothed's service moved and acted. No, this was not acceptable. Not in any way. And instinct drove Iris to want to protect the girl from further harm or fear. If her idea of escaping was to settle in the forest and let herself freeze to death, then there had to be other options, right?
"You do not speak as if you are sure he will be kind, Calliope. You speak as if you already fear him. Was it your parents that made the match? Surely there can be something done if it does not sit well with your own desires. Most parents do not wish to watch their children suffer," Iris noted, entirely unaware that Calliope's mother had no part in this. If only because she was not in the land of the living at all. Just like Iris' own mother. The only difference was... Takis had her best interests at heart, and it seemed that Calliope's father did not feel the same for his child.
"It's supposed to be a happy day."
She speaks with her nose to the sky, knowing nothing of what's beneath her.
Bitterness was rife within Calliope at the moment, as she was being questioned instead of allowed to simply let herself out in the snow and the cold. She wondered, even now as Iris questioned her, if the blanket of snow that might've encased her. After she lost her feeling in her limbs and the life began to ebb away... might she think she was warm? As her mind rotted away and all that was left was the last, few beats of her heart before her soul was dragged to the River Styx... what would it have been like?
Better.
Better than this, sitting in a chair, being asked about matters in which she could not be helped. She might yet end up buried in that snow if she refused Alector.
"There are no families," she began, letting the laughter fill her throat before the cracking surfaced and she hacked a cough. She pulled the blankets closer to her, not raising her gaze from a specific point on the table as she said,
"My fiance is an Athenian merchant of relative renown," she stated, raising her hand at last to brush against ashen skin. At last, she felt and the nerves beneath her skin flared to life, stifling her senses and undoing her.
"And my father," she continued, her gaze at last lifting from the table to meet Iris' directly. Hollow hazel hues mirrored so very little of the light in their gaze. Her lips slowly curved into a smile. Deranged in its expression, wracked with the feverish feelings that spilled from her chest and out of her mouth,
"Is a drinker... and a fiend. Once he put my mother in the ground, he turned into a different man. Happy nights spent teaching a child to hunt turned into... well, they didn't turn into much of anything good."
Those digits traveled up along the path of her throat before she rested her temple against her palm, the other reaching for that goblet of water. She brought it to her lips and tipped it, just enough to wet her lips before she drank deeply, a slip of the hand sending the empty goblet crashing to the floor. She ignored it, far too engrossed in the truth that felt like a deluge of fire twisting in her stomach. Once it came out, it seemed impossible to stop.
"She's been gone four years now, and in many ways, so has he. What's left now might as well be a demon, wearing his skin. He beats me, drinks well into the night. He doesn't work and then... all of a sudden, he brings imported wine, mead. Our meals are nicer. He smiles again. But, he never leaves."
The laughter pooled in earnest as she tipped her head back.
"You're getting married, Calliope. Isn't that grand? Your husband's only twenty years older than you. Your husband's slaves wear nice dresses but bear hideous scars on their knees and wounds on their stomachs. It'll be great, won't it?"
She stared directly at the woman.
"Won't it?"
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"It's supposed to be a happy day."
She speaks with her nose to the sky, knowing nothing of what's beneath her.
Bitterness was rife within Calliope at the moment, as she was being questioned instead of allowed to simply let herself out in the snow and the cold. She wondered, even now as Iris questioned her, if the blanket of snow that might've encased her. After she lost her feeling in her limbs and the life began to ebb away... might she think she was warm? As her mind rotted away and all that was left was the last, few beats of her heart before her soul was dragged to the River Styx... what would it have been like?
Better.
Better than this, sitting in a chair, being asked about matters in which she could not be helped. She might yet end up buried in that snow if she refused Alector.
"There are no families," she began, letting the laughter fill her throat before the cracking surfaced and she hacked a cough. She pulled the blankets closer to her, not raising her gaze from a specific point on the table as she said,
"My fiance is an Athenian merchant of relative renown," she stated, raising her hand at last to brush against ashen skin. At last, she felt and the nerves beneath her skin flared to life, stifling her senses and undoing her.
"And my father," she continued, her gaze at last lifting from the table to meet Iris' directly. Hollow hazel hues mirrored so very little of the light in their gaze. Her lips slowly curved into a smile. Deranged in its expression, wracked with the feverish feelings that spilled from her chest and out of her mouth,
"Is a drinker... and a fiend. Once he put my mother in the ground, he turned into a different man. Happy nights spent teaching a child to hunt turned into... well, they didn't turn into much of anything good."
Those digits traveled up along the path of her throat before she rested her temple against her palm, the other reaching for that goblet of water. She brought it to her lips and tipped it, just enough to wet her lips before she drank deeply, a slip of the hand sending the empty goblet crashing to the floor. She ignored it, far too engrossed in the truth that felt like a deluge of fire twisting in her stomach. Once it came out, it seemed impossible to stop.
"She's been gone four years now, and in many ways, so has he. What's left now might as well be a demon, wearing his skin. He beats me, drinks well into the night. He doesn't work and then... all of a sudden, he brings imported wine, mead. Our meals are nicer. He smiles again. But, he never leaves."
The laughter pooled in earnest as she tipped her head back.
"You're getting married, Calliope. Isn't that grand? Your husband's only twenty years older than you. Your husband's slaves wear nice dresses but bear hideous scars on their knees and wounds on their stomachs. It'll be great, won't it?"
She stared directly at the woman.
"Won't it?"
"It's supposed to be a happy day."
She speaks with her nose to the sky, knowing nothing of what's beneath her.
Bitterness was rife within Calliope at the moment, as she was being questioned instead of allowed to simply let herself out in the snow and the cold. She wondered, even now as Iris questioned her, if the blanket of snow that might've encased her. After she lost her feeling in her limbs and the life began to ebb away... might she think she was warm? As her mind rotted away and all that was left was the last, few beats of her heart before her soul was dragged to the River Styx... what would it have been like?
Better.
Better than this, sitting in a chair, being asked about matters in which she could not be helped. She might yet end up buried in that snow if she refused Alector.
"There are no families," she began, letting the laughter fill her throat before the cracking surfaced and she hacked a cough. She pulled the blankets closer to her, not raising her gaze from a specific point on the table as she said,
"My fiance is an Athenian merchant of relative renown," she stated, raising her hand at last to brush against ashen skin. At last, she felt and the nerves beneath her skin flared to life, stifling her senses and undoing her.
"And my father," she continued, her gaze at last lifting from the table to meet Iris' directly. Hollow hazel hues mirrored so very little of the light in their gaze. Her lips slowly curved into a smile. Deranged in its expression, wracked with the feverish feelings that spilled from her chest and out of her mouth,
"Is a drinker... and a fiend. Once he put my mother in the ground, he turned into a different man. Happy nights spent teaching a child to hunt turned into... well, they didn't turn into much of anything good."
Those digits traveled up along the path of her throat before she rested her temple against her palm, the other reaching for that goblet of water. She brought it to her lips and tipped it, just enough to wet her lips before she drank deeply, a slip of the hand sending the empty goblet crashing to the floor. She ignored it, far too engrossed in the truth that felt like a deluge of fire twisting in her stomach. Once it came out, it seemed impossible to stop.
"She's been gone four years now, and in many ways, so has he. What's left now might as well be a demon, wearing his skin. He beats me, drinks well into the night. He doesn't work and then... all of a sudden, he brings imported wine, mead. Our meals are nicer. He smiles again. But, he never leaves."
The laughter pooled in earnest as she tipped her head back.
"You're getting married, Calliope. Isn't that grand? Your husband's only twenty years older than you. Your husband's slaves wear nice dresses but bear hideous scars on their knees and wounds on their stomachs. It'll be great, won't it?"
She stared directly at the woman.
"Won't it?"
Iris was contented to sit in the silence of her company, pleased that there was nothing heavy to chew on just yet. Her worries were about the girl, of course, but part of her was also wondering in earnest what she was getting herself into. What was she offering herself up to in order to help her out of her situation and into a better one? Would Iris even be able to do anything? Surely if she took the girl under her care and removed the girls' father's control, things would get better, right? Or would she bring danger to the rest of her household, including herself and Calliope?
These were thoughts swirling through her head as Calliope started to speak, Iris' green gaze lifting to land on the girl once more. The story was sad, but Iris remained rooted where she was in order to listen. It was an intrusive thought, but she thought of Calliope's situation as something out of a story or a book. The way she spoke gave her a seriously theatrical air, and for a moment Iris considered whether this was honesty or just an act. The clattering of the metal cup to the floor had Iris jumping just slightly.
A servant rushed forward to pick up the cup, setting it down on the table and then melting back into the shadows where he had come from.
Finally, Iris found a moment to speak, thinking on Calliope's final question but having no outright answer for her. Not yet, if ever at all. "If he is a merchant of any renown, it is unlikely that he holds any favor for the way that he treats his slaves," Iris tried to assert, knowing the words would turn to ash in her mouth. Not all treated their slaves as kindly as Iris herself did. Some people found slaves to be animals to beat on and get their frustration out.
"I am sorry that your father has changed. Grief does terrible things to people," Iris pointed out, shaking her head. She had never seen Takis fully grief, seeing as she had been but a newborn when her own mother had died. But she could see it in his eyes from time to time. The quiet sadness. The loneliness that Iris was sure no one but her mother could have soothed.
"There is no promise of pain upon your person, for you would not be a slave, but a wife," Iris tried to concede, still trying to think of how she could help Calliope. "My only question is, and do not take this offensively, but why you? Why has this betrothed of yours not looked to someone with an actual dowry to give? How has your father come to this agreement at all, Calliope?" Iris question, her mind still racing through every possibility in that moment.
How could she help? What could she do? She needed to know more.
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Jan 15, 2021 10:59:00 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Jan 15, 2021 10:59:00 GMT
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Iris was contented to sit in the silence of her company, pleased that there was nothing heavy to chew on just yet. Her worries were about the girl, of course, but part of her was also wondering in earnest what she was getting herself into. What was she offering herself up to in order to help her out of her situation and into a better one? Would Iris even be able to do anything? Surely if she took the girl under her care and removed the girls' father's control, things would get better, right? Or would she bring danger to the rest of her household, including herself and Calliope?
These were thoughts swirling through her head as Calliope started to speak, Iris' green gaze lifting to land on the girl once more. The story was sad, but Iris remained rooted where she was in order to listen. It was an intrusive thought, but she thought of Calliope's situation as something out of a story or a book. The way she spoke gave her a seriously theatrical air, and for a moment Iris considered whether this was honesty or just an act. The clattering of the metal cup to the floor had Iris jumping just slightly.
A servant rushed forward to pick up the cup, setting it down on the table and then melting back into the shadows where he had come from.
Finally, Iris found a moment to speak, thinking on Calliope's final question but having no outright answer for her. Not yet, if ever at all. "If he is a merchant of any renown, it is unlikely that he holds any favor for the way that he treats his slaves," Iris tried to assert, knowing the words would turn to ash in her mouth. Not all treated their slaves as kindly as Iris herself did. Some people found slaves to be animals to beat on and get their frustration out.
"I am sorry that your father has changed. Grief does terrible things to people," Iris pointed out, shaking her head. She had never seen Takis fully grief, seeing as she had been but a newborn when her own mother had died. But she could see it in his eyes from time to time. The quiet sadness. The loneliness that Iris was sure no one but her mother could have soothed.
"There is no promise of pain upon your person, for you would not be a slave, but a wife," Iris tried to concede, still trying to think of how she could help Calliope. "My only question is, and do not take this offensively, but why you? Why has this betrothed of yours not looked to someone with an actual dowry to give? How has your father come to this agreement at all, Calliope?" Iris question, her mind still racing through every possibility in that moment.
How could she help? What could she do? She needed to know more.
Iris was contented to sit in the silence of her company, pleased that there was nothing heavy to chew on just yet. Her worries were about the girl, of course, but part of her was also wondering in earnest what she was getting herself into. What was she offering herself up to in order to help her out of her situation and into a better one? Would Iris even be able to do anything? Surely if she took the girl under her care and removed the girls' father's control, things would get better, right? Or would she bring danger to the rest of her household, including herself and Calliope?
These were thoughts swirling through her head as Calliope started to speak, Iris' green gaze lifting to land on the girl once more. The story was sad, but Iris remained rooted where she was in order to listen. It was an intrusive thought, but she thought of Calliope's situation as something out of a story or a book. The way she spoke gave her a seriously theatrical air, and for a moment Iris considered whether this was honesty or just an act. The clattering of the metal cup to the floor had Iris jumping just slightly.
A servant rushed forward to pick up the cup, setting it down on the table and then melting back into the shadows where he had come from.
Finally, Iris found a moment to speak, thinking on Calliope's final question but having no outright answer for her. Not yet, if ever at all. "If he is a merchant of any renown, it is unlikely that he holds any favor for the way that he treats his slaves," Iris tried to assert, knowing the words would turn to ash in her mouth. Not all treated their slaves as kindly as Iris herself did. Some people found slaves to be animals to beat on and get their frustration out.
"I am sorry that your father has changed. Grief does terrible things to people," Iris pointed out, shaking her head. She had never seen Takis fully grief, seeing as she had been but a newborn when her own mother had died. But she could see it in his eyes from time to time. The quiet sadness. The loneliness that Iris was sure no one but her mother could have soothed.
"There is no promise of pain upon your person, for you would not be a slave, but a wife," Iris tried to concede, still trying to think of how she could help Calliope. "My only question is, and do not take this offensively, but why you? Why has this betrothed of yours not looked to someone with an actual dowry to give? How has your father come to this agreement at all, Calliope?" Iris question, her mind still racing through every possibility in that moment.
How could she help? What could she do? She needed to know more.
Calliope hadn't asked for any of this. She craved death in that wintry abyss, and while she wouldn't go out and waste the life that Iris had saved, she grew weary of the woman's efforts in trying to be involved. Regardless of the power she held, the private affairs of her province's people were certainly beyond her control. The woman's words did nothing to alleviate her fears, nor did they matter. Favour? Who cared how slaves were treated? There were no protests held for prisoners sold to the wealthy.
Then, she continued, stating the obvious. Of course it did. Calliope felt that grief, too. The same brutal emptiness, where no warmth could penetrate the veneer of cold. She'd lost her mother several years before, and lost her father at the very same time. The man who sold her now was a shell of a man, likely pawning her off for some decent scratch and more importantly, the opportunity to forget.
Surely, Calliope had a life of luxury ahead of her, but she held the suspicion that it came at a price for it was untenable. Iris' words did not provide the assurances, and her question brought the chilling laughter from her lips.
"Clearly, it didn't matter to him," she dismissed, shrugging her shoulder before letting herself push into the blanket more snugly.
"You could've helped by leaving me there to die. Thank you, for consigning me to my fate, my lady."
Sarcasm dribbled from her lips as she slowly hobbled to her feet. She was done. This woman had done her a kindness and rather than treat her with overt disrespect for the line of questioning. The young woman offered the woman a smile, then rose to her feet and offered a bow of respect.
"Thank you, for your hospitality," she offered at last before leaving the Argyris woman to her business.
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Feb 26, 2021 4:32:22 GMT
Posted In Hope is Lost on Feb 26, 2021 4:32:22 GMT
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Calliope hadn't asked for any of this. She craved death in that wintry abyss, and while she wouldn't go out and waste the life that Iris had saved, she grew weary of the woman's efforts in trying to be involved. Regardless of the power she held, the private affairs of her province's people were certainly beyond her control. The woman's words did nothing to alleviate her fears, nor did they matter. Favour? Who cared how slaves were treated? There were no protests held for prisoners sold to the wealthy.
Then, she continued, stating the obvious. Of course it did. Calliope felt that grief, too. The same brutal emptiness, where no warmth could penetrate the veneer of cold. She'd lost her mother several years before, and lost her father at the very same time. The man who sold her now was a shell of a man, likely pawning her off for some decent scratch and more importantly, the opportunity to forget.
Surely, Calliope had a life of luxury ahead of her, but she held the suspicion that it came at a price for it was untenable. Iris' words did not provide the assurances, and her question brought the chilling laughter from her lips.
"Clearly, it didn't matter to him," she dismissed, shrugging her shoulder before letting herself push into the blanket more snugly.
"You could've helped by leaving me there to die. Thank you, for consigning me to my fate, my lady."
Sarcasm dribbled from her lips as she slowly hobbled to her feet. She was done. This woman had done her a kindness and rather than treat her with overt disrespect for the line of questioning. The young woman offered the woman a smile, then rose to her feet and offered a bow of respect.
"Thank you, for your hospitality," she offered at last before leaving the Argyris woman to her business.
Calliope hadn't asked for any of this. She craved death in that wintry abyss, and while she wouldn't go out and waste the life that Iris had saved, she grew weary of the woman's efforts in trying to be involved. Regardless of the power she held, the private affairs of her province's people were certainly beyond her control. The woman's words did nothing to alleviate her fears, nor did they matter. Favour? Who cared how slaves were treated? There were no protests held for prisoners sold to the wealthy.
Then, she continued, stating the obvious. Of course it did. Calliope felt that grief, too. The same brutal emptiness, where no warmth could penetrate the veneer of cold. She'd lost her mother several years before, and lost her father at the very same time. The man who sold her now was a shell of a man, likely pawning her off for some decent scratch and more importantly, the opportunity to forget.
Surely, Calliope had a life of luxury ahead of her, but she held the suspicion that it came at a price for it was untenable. Iris' words did not provide the assurances, and her question brought the chilling laughter from her lips.
"Clearly, it didn't matter to him," she dismissed, shrugging her shoulder before letting herself push into the blanket more snugly.
"You could've helped by leaving me there to die. Thank you, for consigning me to my fate, my lady."
Sarcasm dribbled from her lips as she slowly hobbled to her feet. She was done. This woman had done her a kindness and rather than treat her with overt disrespect for the line of questioning. The young woman offered the woman a smile, then rose to her feet and offered a bow of respect.
"Thank you, for your hospitality," she offered at last before leaving the Argyris woman to her business.
