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occasionally subtle
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if i look back, i am lost
almost home
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@lostinaconstellation
"Can someone explain to me why some of us remember and some of us don't?"
"I suppose so. I just feel like some aspects are a little easier now that I remember some things. Though some things are harder. How are you doing though?"
"Who?" He asked simply when she spoke of the aspects of her life, hoping the one word was enough for her to understand what he meant, though he supposed he already knew.
"That’s probably a wise decision. I’m getting rather tired of spider jokes."
"Perhaps those telling them are just as shocked as you are by the changes occurring within us all, humor is a coping method, give them patience."
A short moment of silence ensued between him and this stranger, which caught Dionysus’s curiosity enough for him to tear his eyes from his glass to the apparently deaf person standing behind him. He knew that face from somewhere, but couldn’t quite place a name to it until the man spoke.
'You can forget to pick up the pieces when you only try to destroy what you feel.'
There was only one man in this entire planet who could pull metaphors out of his ass on command, and still have them make total sense. It was that star guy. The one who’s son was killed by his sister Athena. Even though he didn’t know much about Krios, he knew his life was turned upside down after Pallas’s death, and he sympathized him because from what he knew of the Titan, that sort of on-going pain and misfortune wasn’t deserved.
"Thank you… so much for that, Confucius—” he slurred, rubbing his temple to soothe his now pounding headache. Oh how he missed the days when his alcohol tolerance wasn’t the exact same as a damn wood nymph. ”— but ‘m tryin’ to drink this place dry, and you’re distracting me. If you mean to tell me I made a mess… I did. But I got people for this. It’ll be— It’ll be good as new…tomorrow. Here.” He grabbed an untouched bottle, swinging it in the man’s direction for him to take, and nearly dropping it in the process. “Merry Kwanzah.”
"What is her name?" It was all Krios felt the need to say, the only words they felt right on his lips when he saw how Dionysus moved about in front of him. Krios knew the pain in Dionysus's bones more than anyone, he knew how to love someone he would know even in death. Krios would know Eurybia even after he had lost himself, after the stars had fallen and the skies had gone dark from Krios's own heartbreak. He would destroy all he had known for her, without a word. Perhaps Dionysus didn't love with all he had, but sometimes one believes they won't fall, and often times those are the ones that land the hardest.
He didn't believe that the mess around them would be cleaned up by the morning, no part of him did, let it be the empty bottles to what their drink drowned. Veiling what one created does not pull it back together.
The bottle that swung through the air, swaying just as much as Dionysus's words, barely landing in Krios's hands, barely cracking against the floorboards, only to add to the pile already at their feet. It was then, as Krios held the bottle in his hand, awkwardly, as if it didn't belong in his grasp, he set the bottle on a clear section of the counter top and over two stools, he tried to wipe away the ruins of Dionysus's actions with his sleeves, unwilling to touch the broken shards of glass. He wouldn't sit the man down, but Krios took his own seat and left the other for the man to choose.
For a moment, she had to wonder if she’d done something wrong. It was what mortals did, she’d observed over the years in the past. Was she wrong for trying to do so too? But Nemesis didn’t find his words offending, and just simply tried to smile. “If you don’t want it, it’s okay.”
"That is not what I meant," everything about him was calm despite how easily his words before could have been taken, "You have no need to buy me anything, Nemesis, you owe me nothing and you never will. You being here will always be enough."
I have loved you so much that everything else sounds like a lie.
Ernest Hemingway, from a letter to Martha Gellhorn (via violentwavesofemotion)
She shrugged. “It’s fine. I managed to wrangle a bunch of fancy objects from idiots along the way, so there’s that plus.”
"If they do not remember now, they will remember eventually. And if they don’t, then you should consider them lucky." She shifts around then, grabbing a large and old looking roll of paper before handing it to him. "Here. I bribed this out of a man. It’s old constellation maps. I think your… thingy… your wife thing would like them."
There was a significant moment of silence that followed him, when it was his turn to thank her, ask her why she did this, to say anything, but his fingers were already unrolling the gift and weaving their way through the constellations on the paper without thought. They felt more of a home to him than the lines of his palms. "Eurybia, her name is Eurybia," there was a pause, "Thank you, Aisa, and I don't believe you are told that enough."
"I'm sorry, I'm not sure I can help you..."
"I think they’re okay-I think they’re distracting themselves with work."
"And how are you?" He asked again.
She just looked at him for a moment- small, almost pained, half-smile unconsciously gracing her features, before it fell, replaced by a nerves and a bit lip. “What do you want from me?” the words tumbled out with less finesse, with less framing than she had intended. She knew it was harsh from the moment she finished. It was unintentionally so, but it came along with the bluntness she felt they needed, or at least she needed. It felt unfair to assume he would welcome her back into his life and pick things up as they once had been, just as much as it felt unfair to assume he wanted nothing to do with her at all. There was so much history that she hardly knew what to do with it all.”I don’t want to assume anything,” she said, softer this time. “But I miss you.”
The question hung in the air, and with its fingers, it captured the world around him, the trees, the night, even the stars were held under its power, their light dripping from the sky and scorching Krios's skin, just as if he had found himself too close to the sun. The words intertwined with his lungs, breathing the oxygen from his veins. What did he want from her?
Nothing. And everything.
"To know," to know what he felt, to know that their pasts could mean nothing, to know the stars are born from death, to know he still loved her, to know they still had sons waiting for them, to know the way she ruined him with a string of words. He didn't respond to her last sentence, partly forgetting that it was his turn to speak, and the other part of him was far too lost by then.
paracosm
(noun) Psychology. Paracosm is an extremely rare word defining the imaginary world constructed in one’s mind, specifically by children. It is an infinite fantasy, anything can exist from animals to aliens and entities foreign to outsiders. Anything is possible in this fantasy milieu, one has their own language, experience, geography and history. Parcosm is usually developed as a result of high creativity, problem-solving, and others theorize: high intelligence. (via wordsnquotes)
"What do you mean? I’ve been around, as always. I think only death will remove me from here, and even then, it’ll just be six feet under the city.” The words he said were entirely true. New York was the only place he had ever known, and it seemed like he was destined to stay forever, because leaving would prevent him from keeping an eye on his brother.
Krios was a master at traveling, though he rarely left his own home, even as Kael. He could be world's away, though never leaving his kitchen table. And he looked to his brother, though he didn't remember who they were just yet. "Not even death would be able to bring an end to you."
"Can someone explain to me why some of us remember and some of us don't?"
"Some minds may not fully accept their pasts, just as one tries to forget the truth as the lie is gentler than their past."
Greek mythology meme: [5/6] titans
↳ Krios
Krios was one of the elder Titans, the god of constellations, and along with his four brothers, he played a part in the downfall of Ouranos. Krios was associated with the southern pillar of the Universe, and the constellation of Aries. His children were the titans Astraios, Pallas, and Perses.
There was a quick smile in the first moment after he said those words, but immediately after she felt guilty because nothing was quite that easy any more, so she looked away from him for a moment, looking toward the star as an excuse not to look at him. “Don’t,” she said softly, shaking her head. Those words alone brought back their beginning, when he used to tell her stories, stories that made her fall in love with him in the first place. She didn’t feel comfortable listening to that without knowing what he wanted from her. “We need to talk.”
The star was born just after she left them, when Pallas passed away from them. Krios put his losses in the stars, just as he did everything else, it was all he knew how to do, all he was meant to do, just as Oceanus created the seas. It was all he could bear at the time and now, stories and the stars, and when one died, another was born over again, however, still, he paused when Eurybia spoke that simple word and waited for her to speak, though he didn't know what to say to her last sentence other than a slow nod as he already knew what was to come.
