the stirring of ideas

[eloquens]

ΚΑΛΛΙΌΠΗ. the muse of epic poetry and eloquence, eldest of the Nine, a daughter of zeus.

this is a heavily low activity blog for calliope, inspired by theogony and the sandman. au verses available. admin is a big fantasy nerd. penned by dorian.

rules. about. promo.

[artificialnocturnc]

@eloquens gets a starter

He would kill her if he found out, though, for as anxious as the small dream was…she was curious and bright…and this…whatever this was new to her. 

It was not the first time in history a teenager had sung of anxiety and fear. Hell. Wasn’t that half of teenage art now these days? Maybe that was a side effect of the fact she’d spent most of her short existence hiding in the dreams of teenagers and the young ones. Her anxiety and theirs were the same, it was so much easier now. People worried about what they looked like, what others thought of them, what they had, what they did not have. Everything. Every part of their lives is under a strange microscope now. 

Though it was…a very strange feeling in her chest, to hear them make art about you. Especially something that sounded so good…it was strange. The mortals didn’t like her much. Even if she liked them. It wasn’t like Anni wanted to be disliked, sometimes she thought some of them were even her friends if she went to their dreams often enough, but in the end she made them all sad and messed up. 

This woman was pretty, immortal…she looked different from the mortals around the edges. Glamorous. In that kind of…old story and classic way. Little glints of light on the edges of her that spoke of something extraplainer. Anni on the other hand, well, she was drenched in The Dreaming. In the little whiffs of black smoke and sand that had made her. The oversized dark blue sweatshirt covered in white cat prints and pink jeans that would have got any middle schooler mocked for being unfashionable. Irises so deep and dark brown they almost look black, a little uncanny valley.

Anni came to a fast conclusion, that this woman probably knew much more than she did. 

For a moment Anni is silent, considering if she should speak at all… “why do they do that?” It is an innocent question, but a genuine one, her finger points at the musicians. “That.”

[eloquens]

calliope stood at a safe distance from the mortal, next to anni. she had her hands clasped in front of her, her gown white and flowing around her.

it had been a long while since she had graced someone's conscience—willingly, anyway.

mortals sung and wrote of all sorts of things now. anxiety and fear, although age-old worries and praised to often, held much more importance nowadays than it used to.

it puzzled her. but enforcing subjects was not her job to do, only help them evolve.

"why do they do what?" she quirked a fine brow, glancing at the girl. "create?"

calliope smiled, a curve of her lips both gentle and knowing. "it is what humans do. they create to escape, or to inspire—"

she stepped closer, holding her pinkie finger out just above the young musician's cup. not half a second later, small dewdrops formed at the edge of her finger and dripped into the cup; one, two, three, just before it was picked up and sipped from.

"and i inspire them to do it better."

seeing as eloquence was hardly used for honest or honourable acts as of late. yet another sad thing of the world.

callipe settled her gaze upon the nightmareling, observing her with curiosity but not contempt.

"i confess i know not your name but you are of the dreaming, are you not?"

they all had this distinguishing scent about them. not a real one, it was more a thought born inside her mind; the memory of a scent. and they all carried morpheus's design.

but, even a muse could be deceived.

"there is something familiar about you. correct me, if i am wrong."

[eloquens]

i would appreciate it if the app let me reblog things

[eloquens]

calliope would be so good at karaoke

[forgaeven]

❛⠀if you're looking for a poet, luv, m'afraid i'm not the man to see. ❜ hob tells her softly, ignoring the shiver that runs down his spine at the call of his true name. for all his life, the only one who remained calling him that had been— well, his dearest stranger. never would hob thought anyone else could ever run the word of it down their tongue. call him a nostalgic fool, perhaps, because for as long as hob has lived, he'd avoided the paths of the occult and magic and whatever gods which may have existed. he was content, he felt like, with his human life and its human affair.

but one name from her and hob felt the temptation to step into the vast world of the unknown and the long-lived. what would it feel like, he wonders, to be known as who you were born with, without the disguises and identification you must swap every two decades ? or is hob so selfish in this greed of wanting only to be known by his stranger, and whoever else that might've figured who he is afterwards are chalked only as coincidences and product of circumstances ?

oh hob, with your bleeding heart, he could almost hear an amalgamation of his mother, sister, and eleanor's voice coming together around the warning. oh, hob, with your bottomless want for anything this world could offer you.

he ignores them, smiles to her.

❛⠀although if you're wantin' to hear about the shitshow of the cross-department meeting i've had just last monday, then boy, have i got the story for you. fair warning : this tale contains excessively tight budgets, a high disdain for management, jealous lecturers, and a messy apple pie incident. ❜

continued from here, @eloquens !

[eloquens]

"were you a poet i would know it, my kind sir, that i can promise you," the muse smiled, tilting her head curiously at him.

the man had humour, she'd give him that. she knew him not for longer than a little while and yet, it was plain to deduce he had a particular gift about him—not that of immortality, no, that of comfort. to make one feel at ease, like a low-burning hearth with the lingering scent of something sweet.

it made sense, really.

even though something seemed to occupy his mind there, just for one moment. calliope knew not of its origin, but for the sliver of a second she could see its effect.

no matter. he'd tell, if he wished.

"i cannot say i know what a cross-department is, however. please, do enlighten me, and of the tragedy of wasted apple pie but first—" she hummed, curling a hand into a loose fist as she narrowed her eyes at the rows upon rows with beverages behind hob.

"fetch me some tangerine extract. excuse me, juice. you have some, yes?"

[eloquens]

the pros of more calliope scenes is better visuals. the cons of that is... everything that transpires

[dreamkinge-deactivated20250718]

ALL THAT WE SEE OR SEEM IS BUT A DREAM WITHIN A DREAM. a private, highly selective, plot driven writing blog for DREAM OF THE ENDLESS from dc's the sandman. 21+. dreamed by willow. ©

[eloquens]

[ 🎐 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a sound, like a song or voice, that they associate with peace ?

[ 🎱 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of future do they crave, and who’s in it ?

[ 🎐 ]ㅤwhen it comes to sound it has got to be the gurggling water of the rivers on mount helicon. despite the many different unfortunate events tied to the waters there, calliope has more pleasant memories to recall from it. it is a place she can always retreat to and let her mind loose to the sounds of nature.

[ 🎱 ]ㅤwe know calliope wants to inspire the world to do better so i'd say those are her immediete (or i suppose long? she is kind of immortal) plans. i'd say she'd offer her guidance to those who create appropriate works, whether that is to promote kindness, honor or wisdom. as for people, i'd say her family is a pretty obvious answer. her parents and her sisters would be the first she thinks of, as i imagine she misses them a great deal. and, considering she does express a desire to reconnect with morpheus and grieve, i'd say that would include him, too.

headcanon questions.

[aedearly]

✎ㅤ. . .ㅤ𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑺𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵𝑺.

₊˚⊹ ㅤa collection of character analysis/headcanon questions to learn more about your character and your partners'! writing/headcanon prompts requested by anonymous. feel free to edit these as you see fit.

[ 🖐️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do their hands feel like: soft, calloused, trembling ? [ ☂️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they crave touch or fear it ? [ 🎐 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a sound, like a song or voice, that they associate with peace ? [ 🕊️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen did they feel the safest ? [ 💤 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they sleep ? curled up, sprawled, holding onto something ? [ 🦇 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a fear they never talk about ? [ 🔒 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a secret they’ve sworn never to tell ? [ 🪢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they broke a promise ? [ 🫳 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they feel they owe, but never paid back ? [ 💼 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat do they always carry with them ? [ 🧨 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the quickest way to set them off, even if they hide it well ? [ ⛓️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does guilt feel like to them ? [ 💢 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho have they never forgiven and never will ? [ 🩸 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there something or someone that, if lost, would break them ? [ 🌧️ ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a pain they refuse to heal from ? [ 🪞 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen have they looked at their reflection and hated what they saw ? [ 📿 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat superstition or ritual do they cling to ? [ 🌊 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhen was the last time they cried ? [ 🐾 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo animals like them instinctively ? [ 🪶 ]ㅤ.ㅤhow do they laugh ? [ 🫀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho taught them what love is ? did it hurt ? [ 💭 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they believe they’re worthy of being loved ? [ 🎀 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is their main love language ? [ 🔦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwho do they search for ? [ 📜 ]ㅤ.ㅤis there a story they love sharing with others ? [ 🌒 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a dream or goal they have given up on ? [ 🕯️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat memory do they replay when they’re alone ? [ 🌪️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s the one choice they regret (not) making ? [ 🧩 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat’s a truth about themselves they refuse to admit ? [ 🍻 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of drunk are they ? [ ✉️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of letter would they write but never send ? [ 🗡️ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat is a scar that they have but never talk about ? [ 🕸️ ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a favourite lie they like to hear ? [ 🪦 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat would they want on their gravestone but never admit aloud ? [ 🎱 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat kind of future do they crave, and who’s in it ? [ 🌀 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they have a recurring dream or nightmare ? [ 🍃 ]ㅤ.ㅤdo they feel like they belong ? [ ⚓ ]ㅤ.ㅤwhat does “home” mean to them ? [ 🧭 ]ㅤ.ㅤwhere would they go if they could disappear tomorrow ?

[eloquens]

“ You are safe here. ”

a moment of silence spread, two. calliope's eyes flickered towards morpheus, then away again. "i am aware," she spoke, the words calm though weighted.

"i do hope i am not intruding, it has been..." a long while. too long—or perhaps not long enough, for the likes of them.

the dreaming was for the mortals, those who were meant to think and fear and create. still, once in a while, in the times of old, calliope would bend the rules just a little; after all, what better place was for inspiration to linger if not in a dream?

still, after all this time, it felt like a foreign place, as though there was no longer a spot for her to linger. she knew, however, that if morpheus did not wish for her to be there, she'd not be able to stay.

"i imagine you have slipped back into your duties flawlessly."

morpheus had always been characterized by melancholy. and yet... she could not help but taste something heavier about the way he carried himself.

calliope tangled her fingers together, an uncharacteristically awkward smile twitching onto her features as though it did not belong there.

she moved through the space, still yet ever coiling as the dreaming ought to be. it was a grandeur different from what she was used to, but nonetheless true.

she perched herself upon the low steps of the staircase, her elbows resting upon her knees. she followed him with her gaze, noting things both familiar yet strange.

"or is it difficult to find your footing again?"

4 word sentences.

[eloquens]

independent & selective writing blog for THE MUSE CALLIOPE, patron of the fine arts. open to cross-overs, multiple verses available.

penned by dorian.

[eloquens]

“You are safe here. ” from HOB

"i regret to say nowhere on this land feels safe," said the woman, her words definitive though not unkind. she did not mean to be bitter, not misjudging; her task was that of wisdom, after all, to bestow mindfulness upon kings of old—how could she do that, if she did not wield such restraint herself?

she knew not. she knew, however, that her land nurtured kings no longer. her lord-father was now distant upon his mountain, with few and far in-between calling upon his name.

perhaps this task of hers had died years ago.

still—calliope knew not of a place on this island which inspired either comfort or safety to her. she had only cruelty to remember of its homes, of its people.

hopefully, now that would change.

this man, after all, held a sliver of her estranged husband's kinship—not owned, but gifted. one does not hold that without earning it.

"no matter," calliope sighed, stacking her hands upon the wooden surface of the bar. her eyes settled on hob, a curious smile twitching on her features. "it is too warm a night to spoil it just yet. speak to me of a tale, hob gadling, or anything at all. it has been a while since i have heard of anything worthy of my ears."

4 word sentence.

[untitledmemes]

4-Word Sentence Prompts

Part I An assortment of prompts and/or starters using only four words. Adjust as necessary to fit pronoun and/or descriptor. Reblog, please do not repost or add.

“ I don't need you. ”

“ Celebrate while you can. ”

“ It was too much. ”

“ I'm so, so sorry. ”

“ Let me love you. ”

“ Where have you been? ”

“ Why am I here? ”

“ I would love to. ”

“ I tried but failed. ”

“ You'll never forgive me. ”

“ I want to confess. ”

“ I will protect you. ”

“ You don't deserve me. ”

“ I don't deserve you. ”

“ You are safe here. ”

“ You choose your fate. ”

“ I have lost control. ”

“ I don't recognize myself. ”

“ You are to blame. ”

“ You lack the skills. ”

“ Be still, don't move. ”

“ Yet again you lie. ”

“ You are so beautiful. ”

“ Take it off. Now. ”

“ Look at you now. ”

“ Shoot before it escapes! ”

“ You can't do this! ”

“ Please don't leave me. ”

“ Please leave me along. ”

“ Worship me or die. ”

“ Bow before me, peasant. ”

“ Did you make this? ”

“ I can't believe this! ”

“ You are my villain. ”

“ You are my hero. ”

“ I don't take sides. ”

“ Run, don't look back. ”

“ My life is perfect. ”

“ Don't lie to me. ”

“ When is it over? ”

“ What is this madness? ”

“ Cut loose, have fun! ”

“ I hate you all. ”

“ I love you, dear. ”

“ You drive me crazy. ”

[moondustk]

I am not a possession to be kept. I am a goddess.

Melissanthi Mahut as Calliope in Netflix’s The Sandman Bonus Episode “Calliope” trailer.

[eloquens]

tag dump!