What is your opinion of The Aeneid?
Prying eyes never do cease.
One would think that the modern human world would have more readily available to engage with than gossiping amongst academics. Process of elimination, maybe. Not wanting to delve directly to the obvious assumption - being that of the Divine Comedy - though this impression is precisely jarring in one specific way: the Old Man’s library. The discussions of a many thing, from a great many persons frequenting the old shop. Philosophers and their summertime Muses, college students coming to and fro, always leaving behind notes or forgetting their bags. Creasing the pages of books that did not belong to them, talking in amongst themselves which, for the greater portion of each visit, resounded more and more like white static noise of the television at home.
The home library was always better, in this example. Serene. With scents familiar and comforting, with rugs thick enough to sleep on (as Vergil often did, when studying). But the home library was always susceptible to Dante, and Dante always had something painted in mischief tucked behind that Cheshire smile.
Myths, legends, though - were all tall tales that seemed unrealistic as they were presented. Certainly literature to be read for the sake of its historical importance, but nothing more, much like any spiritual text. No. These Epics, passed down from word of mouth as poetry, significant in that of example of preserving human creativity as well as solidifying a region to infamy (that latter claim a wild dispute; though Vergil never saw human wars as anything but) were interesting, however nothing which kept his young mind fed for long. These Gods and Goddesses, these jealousies and murders were all figments of human minds that could not comprehend the world beyond their own. Told more as their understanding to sciences of the era, and mirroring their own squabbling and ill-fated, hand-woven lives.
What were these myths compared to his Father? Sparda, who reigned and wrought true power over brethren and subjects alike. As direct descendant, an eager student of a living ‘myth’ people in far away lands only murmur over, these Poems, these Epics paled starkly in comparison to anything and everything Father wrote, produced, created. Though Mother insisted virtue in learning the lessons of these, there were no greater work of brilliance than the man before him, or after him. There were nothing Father taught, did, sung, grew, made that wasn’t magnificent. From the ever-living roses he would spring to life for Mother, to the wondrous and powerful weapons he summoned at will and parted with for the sake of his own children, to the playful, eventful sparring lessons and sword techniques so painstakingly taught - it is virtue to live by his stories, his so called ‘myths’. These others... these human-made dreams kept sprawled on script could never compare.
Though what a great and terrible irony befitting an Epic that memory does not fully, with great enthusiasm, harbor and safeguard more memories than these.
Though... it is a wonder, even to this very day: Did Mother and Father choose to name them after the Divine Comedy? Was it an effort to install these tales of fates and lessons unto them, so much so as to gift them the same namesakes?
Even in death... he did seek for Dante. Ironically, not to guide him, however.
"I have no time for tawdry small talk-” Some papers shuffled, stacked, “And neither does the owner of this establishment. Leave, or be lead out.”