Louise Glück
trying on a metaphor
we're not kids anymore.
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@penelcpes
Louise Glück
maraothonos:
“I am not a woman easily frightened,” she brushes off easily. But the truth is, there had been a piece of Mara that was terrified of the prospect of living a life so dull and unextraordinary. To be nothing more than human again, after having a magic of centuries at her fingertips, she can think of little worse. “They always do,” Mara says quietly. Though there’s some variance to the kobalos’s appearance, based on what genes are inherited, a few of her features always remain the same. It’s never been issue before, the idea that someone outside of her own could use it to identify her; not that she is certain this is an issue. She isn’t sure what to think much at all, really, something that’s untypical for the woman usually so sure of herself. Tentatively, Mara takes a seat at the table across from Penelope. There are so many questions on her tongue, things she wants to ask, but first she’ll settle for the most obvious. “What are you?” Who are you?
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“No,” Penelope said, her head tilting slightly as she studied Mara— now more woman than child, fully grown and capable. “You never were.” She had raised many children throughout the years, some more capable than others, and none more disappointing than her own son, but the kobaloi had been something special. They had something ancient in their souls, magic that was waiting to be awoken, it felt like an honour to care for them, to help nurture them into something indomitable. She was sure that it was strange for Mara to see her again; she had never had an intention of being anything more than a brief presence in her life, a lifetime that had been warm and safe, Penelope did not mind being easily forgotten in the layers of many years. The question made her pause, offering a small smile. “In this city, they call us rifts.” She gestured, “I do not know if that is the proper name for what I am, but I am a friend of a goddess— Athena blessed me with gifts, immortality was one.” Mara was clever, she knew of the stories of old, after all, she had been one to teach the other woman of many of them. “Penelope of Ithaca, of Odysseus, of Sparta and I— we are all the same.”
alvaroxcastaneda:
Alvaro chucked, running his fingers through his hair and scratching the back of his head. “I think you might be right, I’ve found people don’t seem to care about history until it affects them,” offering a lopsided shrug he smiled back at her. “I appreciate you inviting me, I haven’t gone through these books in years,” turning some of the delicate pages from one he wrote a century ago. “I assume you’ve read all of these,” he teased with an easy grin, “I think that’s a good idea.” thinking for a moment as he let his eyes wander over the lecture all seats. Folding his arms over his chest. He’d done lectures before, the whole atmosphere brought him back to those simpler times. “How about – butterscotch? I don’t think that’ll come up naturally but it’ll be obvious.”
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“Perhaps we only care so much for history because it is our own, it affected us and we now wish to tell the story.” She offered the reaper a smile, paired off with his own. For a moment, Penelope was tempted to tell him that she had the ability to pull his soul from the grips of Atropos, that if he desired it, she could return him to the human world, to put beat back into his still heart and warmth to cool skin: but it was not her place, and she had learned so long ago to stay within her own bounded rules. “I’ve read them several times,” Penelope scoffed. “I adore your work. In fact,” she spun in her chair, turning to her bookcase where her fingers skimmed over the spines of the works there, “I have some first editions here. I treasure them.” She laughed, and the sound was bright. “If you say butterscotch, I’ll come bail you out. Sounds perfect.”
mahendraxvarma:
“If only you could speak for all of them.” Mahendra said with a sigh, even if Penelope’s chosen roommate opted not to kill the incubus or anymore of his friends, she had siblings, and shifters abound that would undoubtedly come flocking to her. He wanted no part of any of them, no matter what the former queen promised he wouldn’t put his life in someone else’s hands. Mahendra had too much to lose considering what was awaiting him. Whatever fight riled within him died under her promises though, her hand in his as she vowed to chase away the demons that would undoubtedly come for him. “Forgive me,” Mahendra asked in earnest, “but I won’t live under the same roof as one of her kind.” Scylla had created so many that had ultimately come to hunt and kill people that Mahendra cared for, regardless of how protected he was in his association with Penelope, it would feel like a betrayal to their memory. Mahendra smiled, ready to play it off, “You should just come home with me instead. Problem solved.”
.
“I would,” she said, though such things weren’t possible. Selene’s residency in her home was not to be permanent, while she did enjoy the warmth of company and the a home that wasn’t empty at all times— she could not bear the fact that she was housing a woman that had bore the lineage that would so easily see Mahendra and his kind extinguished. She enjoyed the company of the cubi, they sat in her heart in the same place as the kobaloi; wily and wicked, they were creatures that she found herself becoming fond of often. “I understand,” Penelope responded, and her thumb brushed against the back of his hand. “Though it is a shame about that cow-shaped ottoman. I was looking forward to it.” She had never known him to be a particularly loyal person, in fact her memory of Mahendra had been betrayed by the defining trait that he was wholly disloyal: but she would not be the one to carve out his heart and point a knife towards his kin. “Selene will find her own place soon, but until then,” one of her hands curved around his lapels, toying with the fabric. “I think I just might have to.”
selenexnereus:
“Well, he did a wonderful job. I just hope that this woman did not meet such an end as I did.” Then again, Selene was sure that was highly impossible. Her dearest friend had caused her death. Surely, that could not be the same that had occurred for the woman’s body she currently inhabited. Nevertheless, looks were merely a means to an end. Scylla could have been given any body, but what mattered was what she held within. She would never find herself treating anyone with any ugliness that could flow through heir veins. Treating others the way she would want to be treated was always how she would live her life. Even after death. If someone needed her help, she was going to give it to them without even a second thought. “So I heard through the veil you brought me through. I’m happy for my brother.” She considered any reason involving her siblings a good enough one to bring her back to the land of the living from Elysium. “And I have missed them.” Her hands lifted to grab the bowl that her dear Penelope had handed to her. It felt surreal. Something as simple as a meal made by someone to give her a sense of warmth made her feel giddy inside. “I just was not aware of why. I was content waiting for them, but I am not upset to be alive again.”
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“He assured me that there would be no problems with your taking her form,” Penelope said, and she trusted in the fact that Gabriel had been thorough in his search. Memories were a tricky thing, they were a silvery substance and the incubus had snatched them away; leaving the body that Selene inhabited as nothing more than a shell, she was something empty to inhabit and make her own. “Eat,” she urged, spooning some of the soup from her own bowl. “It will do little for your physical strength, but it will make you feel more like yourself.” It was something warm, at the very least. “I don’t know Petrichor well, but I love Gabriel dearly. I think they are well matched, and that they are happy.” Was that not what mattered most? Happiness was a fleeting thing, it was smothered by the smallest of notions, suffocated by even the turning of the weather. “I’m embarrassed to tell you the primary reason,” the rift admitted, looking over at Selene. “Gabriel wished for you to be at the wedding, but I had hoped that you would want to walk the earth once again, to bestow your gifts upon the world as you had before. We are too few, from times long past, I thought it would bring both you and them joy.”
henryfitzgercld:
“I think jumping out the window isn’t a good idea.” He could technically shift and fly away, but doing that on campus sounded like one of the worst ideas Henry could come up with. So instead he just pulled the door shut behind himself and moved over to sit down on the chair in front of her desk. “I love enthusiastic students, but there’s a line and I don’t know why they cross it.”
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“No, you’d give the students quite a shock if you did.” Dark eyes shifted from the window to the occult teacher with his charming curls. The last time she had heard of dragons had been at the hand of Aeëtes, who had filled the sky with not the sound of war drums but the beating of dragon wings, but this magic was different— from a side of the whose origins she was hardly familiar with. “They’re young. Aren’t we all enthusiastic when we’re young and passionate?” Her lips curved in a smile, and she canted her head. “I hope I’m not bad company while you’re hiding, maybe you can tell me about yourself. I don’t think we’ve really done that yet.”
lysanderxreis:
It was true; Penelope had inherited one of the more wild of the kobaloi – in a sense that he was perhaps the one that ran towards violence, without a care about his own soul or safety. He laughed, wrinkling his nose, “Luckily I’ve kept my height throughout the lifetimes. You think I’d get tired of seeing the same face over and over again, but I’m just as handsome over and over again.” Lysander smiled, though he could see that he wasn’t going to get away with being as vague as he hoped. “I hope I’m one of them, yeah? Add me to your list, I’ll add you to mine,” he joked, shaking his head now as he offered her his arm so they could walk somewhere else. “I want to hear more about you, though. I know the whole world kind of fell to shit around here, but you – you’re blessed by a goddess.”
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“And humble,” she laughed, pleased that he had not changed in that regard as well. Time was a file that sloughed off the brighter parts of a personality, it made those who revelled in light turn to darkness and those who so readily laughed, instead have hatred in their hearts. Lysander was still cheeky, as he had been as a boy, and she gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You’re not my blood, but you have my heart.” She had known him with a golden circlet of curls, with those same laughing blue eyes and his knees always skinned: he would always be important to her. Penelope tucked her arm into his, keeping up with his long stride after a moment of adjustment. “Athena is a friend of mine, and a kind one.” She lifted a shoulder, “We have perhaps grown apart in later years, I hear less and less from her, but I am nonetheless still fond.” He wanted to know more about her past as it had spanned between the time she had known him to now and she bit at her cheek. “I travelled, and the world took its pieces out of me.” Her smile returned, “Nevermind that, we’re together now. Other things will mend.”
rheadiamondis:
“Rhea.” She offers with a nod of her head in thanks as she steps through the door. The place is nice, it’s modern and yet cozy, she’s had a bit of an affinity for it. It’s the way that it’s the closest of the beverage shops to the water and she thinks that’s why she likes it. She could gaze out the window and look upon Poseidon’s domain and feel a semblance of peace knowing she was overlooking it. “How long have you owned the place? I’ve popped in from time to time, though I’ll admit I’ve been trying to do the iced coffee thing at home with little success.” Her nose scrunches just slightly before she’s letting out a soft laugh at her own expense. “I suppose it’s not just ice and coffee in a cup.”
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“As long as I’ve been here,” she said idly, wiggling her fingers at the shifter who was currently manning the counter and drinks. “I made my changes of course, the last owner didn’t quite understand what made the environment inviting, and I added some of my own things.” A myriad of items that she’d brought from her travels filled the room; a painting from Morocco, a rug handmade in Peru, blown glass that hung in the windows to catch the light. “It’s exactly that,” Penelope said with a quirked smile, settling down in a leather upholstered chair to fold her hands in her lap. “But everything tastes better when someone else makes it for you.”
ofathcns:
There’s more jokes to be made, she has given him ample material, and yet he knows when to stop picking. The way she’d regarded her mother, Theseus wonders what the story is there, but he wonders. It is for another day, he is determined to have more of them with her, moments such as this. It’s nice to just sit and talk, jest a little even. It reminds him of life or even after, days spent bothering Achilles and Patroclus, walking through the woods with Narcissus, chatting with Heracles. There’s a job he is there to do in Corinth, he needs to find those like him, and yet he does wish to spend his days like this. If he cannot be holding a sword, he does not have to be miserable, he does not have to be alone. “I think the title of friend would suit us.” Another title, Son of Poseidon, King of Athens, Slayer of the Minotaur, Friend of Penelope. He tacks it on and he likes how it sounds in his head.
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He would have to work harder for her affection— she decided it simply, feeling the heat of an unintentional insult race up the side of her neck. Men, they so often gripped at insecurities and throttled at them with their oafish hands. Her skin was already thin and he was a warrior; Penelope reminded herself that he was likely not used to handling things with gentility. Still, she would have to retreat and simmer in her embarrassment, to swallow down the hurt of a life time of not measuring up and a man who tossed the words out as a joke— as if it was something to laugh at. “Perhaps then, you can have it in time,” she returned, now distant and as cool as the sea beyond them. She had a birthright to the ocean, as did he, but it was not a commonality that she would allow to be their sole tether. “Do you intend to stay in Corinth long?”
waeboots:
She looks at home here, amongst all the lush greenery the vineyard has to offer. There are parts of Greece he actually likes, the art, the buildings, there’s almost some kind of etherealness to the nature of the bay. During the daytime, anyways. He knows what creeps around corners at night, he is one of those things. Eli sips from the glass in his hand with his arms crossed over his chest as he contemplates the question. Home had been a desert, it’d been caves and cliffs and then it’d been Cal. “It’s been a lot of different places. But mostly it’s been wherever Cal has been.” His shoulders raise in a shrug and if he’d been living, he thinks he might have blushed. Penelope is sort of family, she’s close to Cal and therefore he can allow himself some gentler moments with her. “Texas is nice if you ignore a lot of the people, the government. We have a nice bit of land, an apple orchard. It’s far from here, but it’s ours.”
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Penelope smiled, canting her head. Dark curls settled on one shoulder as she studied Eli’s features— he had been a witch once, Cal had told her and she was curious about it, what he had been before he was a vampire. It was one thing for someone to tell a person’s story, and quite another to hear it from their own lips, shaped by their experiences and vocabulary. “Home is where the heart is, they tell me. Sounds like you’ve got that figured out.” For home to be someone else, she was almost envious— her heart was a mosaic of broken pieces, all of which were seeking out someplace to find rest, to become whole. “I saw your ranch,” she said, swirling the glass in her hand, bringing it to her lips. “Not in person, but I can see things from far away.” Projection, she had walked the grounds of the orchard, ghosted through paddocks with horses. Mostly, she had kept an eye on an old friend, keeping tabs now and again, ensuring that he still roamed the earth as she did. “It’s lovely, and still wild. I imagine you were happy there.”
mahendraxvarma:
“So is it Pandora and her box I should be jealous of then?” Mahendra asked, snickering as he did. “Is there something you want to tell me Penelope. Just what am I getting myself into now, hm?” Soft hands brushed her upper arms, grazed her shoulders, then slid down once more. Raz would be put out but they would have to notice first, that would take some time, oneiroi were flighty and violent creatures. It was why he loved them so much. “Sounds like this Bastard and I will have loads in common.” Mahendra offered, though his eyes went wide at the remark. Scylla. An original shifter. “Her siblings and their damned shifters have just about hunted me and my kind to extinction.” He took a step back, while arrogance permeated the air about him usually that was replaced now by fear. Mahendra survived by remaining one step ahead of everyone else, walking into the line of sight of Scylla of all people was like sticking his neck out for an executioner’s axe. “She can’t know about me. None of them can.”
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“Her jar,” Penelope corrected breezily, and her chin lifted so that her gaze met Mahendra’s, “And absolutely.” She reached up, touching at his temple before drawing her fingers along the sharp line of his jaw. He was beautiful, like something tugged out of a painting, or a sculpture come to life: the rift found it difficult to keep her hands from mapping out the familiar planes of his face. “I loved her once, you know. Between her and Athena, the island wasn’t as lonely as the stories say.” His laughter didn’t go unnoticed and she smiled with a hitch, “But that was a long time ago, and I think she is happy now, as am I.” The bird was more likely to dive bomb at Mahendra upon his entrance of her home, but he was adaptable and would eventually return to singing songs as he did in Penelope’s presence. The change in the cubi was night and day, and she felt the chill of distance between them as he moved, looking at her with horror in his eyes. “Then she will not.” It was decided with finality— her tone was authoritative, a hallmark of one who had once been a queen. “It is a great favour I have done her and her siblings, they would be wise not to return it with harming someone I care for.” Penelope reached for his hand to comfort whatever fear had billowed from a man who usually oozed confidence, “I won’t allow it.”
mahendraxvarma:
“That’s not what I mean.” Mahendra offered. “Stay with me, forever. Move in.” The incubus understood that maybe it was soon, but they had already been apart for so long, they were in love, why shouldn’t they be together? He sighed. “Or if you prefer I can move into yours, I have an ottoman in cow-print on the way that I’ve been eyeing for a while now. It’ll have to find a home among your things - and Raz may never forgive me if they notice.” Mahendra said, a short grin on the edge of his lips before he quirked his brow at Penelope, curious. “Who’s the guest?” They had only just reconnected, Penelope was intelligent, beautiful, and naturally charming. A lover would make sense, though if their soul was not protected he’d make short work of getting them out of his way. Mahendra aimed his smile to kill, leaning in to whisper darkly, “Should I be jealous?”
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She leaned up on her toes, stretching up to wrap her arms around the back of his neck, hanging there for a moment as she looked up at him. “I’ve got a place, a nice one.” Penelope canted a brow, “Unless of course, you think that your taste can compete with Pandora’s— which I’d be wise to not tell her whenever she returns to Corinth, then I’ll gladly come to yours.” Her fingers toyed with his dark hair, and her lips curved at the idea of a cow-shaped foot rest. She’d always wanted one, how had he known? “Bring the ottoman, live with me. The guest room is occupied, but I doubt that you would have found yourself very happy there anyways.” No, not when her bed was big enough for two. “Raz can visit any time, but you’ll just have to mind the bird, he’s a bit of a bastard but when he gets to know you he’s quite lovely.” Mahendra’s expression was wicked and she laughed gleefully, shaking her head. “Perhaps its supposed to be a secret, but—“ Penelope hardly paused, continuing. “Scylla. I’m helping her get back onto her feet since she’s returned from Elysium.”
erosxoneiroi:
“You are not.” Ørjan pointed out, “I don’t know what it is that you are capable of, but I have no power over this world. I can’t even change my form, or tell one species from the other. I am… Human, and yet I am not.” Ørjan didn’t belong anywhere, powerless next to the other oneiroi and yet forever unchanging next to humans. “You are very fortunate, all the love I’ve known…” He had made mistake after mistake, “None of it has lasted.” There was another question on the tip of his tongue and instead of holding back he had to ask, “Have you thought of leaving together?”
.
“There is power in your wisdom,” Penelope interjected— “What you know, what time has allowed you to learn, that is not to be underestimated.” She looked at her student, and her lips pressed together in concern. “I wish I could help you find what it is that you have lost. I have sought information in the covens, through the arteries of dark magic, but there is nothing.” Astral projection allowed her to stand in places that she would have never otherwise been allowed, Penelope existed as a shadow, listening to conversations far from where she was physically, watching the world for changes of importance. “Us greeks have twelve types of love, surely there is one or two that have outlasted time for you.” Friendship, that was what had kept her above water, a gasp of sweet air when she otherwise would have drowned. She shook her head at Ørjan’s question. “He asked, but I said no. There is too much need for me here, things are beginning to happen.”
The Beauty Inside 뷰티 인사이드 (2015)
calxlaskaris:
“Perhaps I am the evidence of what they say, about old dogs and new tricks.” Though he can no longer carry a sword in hand, in this day and age, Cal still considers himself every bit as much a warrior as he was before. Even if the battles are different. It is a mindset that cannot so easily be put down, even if he wants to — and furthermore, the vampire is not sure that he does. The simple truth is what he told Penelope; that Cal is not sure who he is, if not a warrior. It is not a question he longs to know the answer to, either. “You deserve peace, if it is what you desire. More than someone like myself, at any rate. I hope you can find it.” And Cal would cut this city a bloody red in order to give it to her. He does not mind shouldering the burden, for the sake of Penelope’s happiness. There is too much stain on his soul to make of any difference. It is all he wants for her, for her to find a contentedness in this life he worries she never has. And it is also what makes him concerned for the incubus’s arrival. He has seen her fallen apart before, due to the carelessness in which he treated her heart, and Cal would not see her suffer the same. “He says many things. It is his way.” She is a woman of thousands of years, capable of making her own choices and guiding her own heart, yet he finds himself in disapproval regardless. “Do you think his words are any more true this time around than they were before?”
.
“If you’re an old dog, then I’m a wily old cat,” Penelope said with a smile— “Just slightly more adaptable, but always seeking out a sunny spot to spend the afternoon.” She let out a breath, looking at Cal with immeasurable fondness. He wished peace for her, and she wanted the same for him. Perhaps he would never put down his sword, but she wanted him to stop feeling that he had to reach for it, to know what it was like to sleep deeply and without worry— without threat of having someone take whatever warm moment he had away. Cal’s immediate distrust made her settle back down in her seat, reaching for her wine glass to swirl in her hand. The contents were ruby, and they sloshed along the sides before she took another sip, considering his question. “What I believe is that he thinks them to be true,” Penelope said, though her brows knit. She looked over at the fellow Spartan, a faithful friend, and she felt a flash of shame for her weakness. “And I want them to be true. I want for it so badly.” She set the glass down in fear that the stem of it would shatter in her hands. “I’m tired of losing love to time, to mortality. Cal, I can’t bear it.” Athena had chosen her for her wisdom, but the goddess had failed to see that she was a wretched creature too— her heart was foolish, so easily given, as though it had never quite felt comfortable in her own chest. “He promises forever, how can I turn away what I’ve always wished for?"
aristondiakos:
“Thank you,” he says, moving to take a seat at the chair she gestured towards. This is unlike him, to do something like this without giving it an overt amount of thought. It’s still kind of terrifying, if Ari is being completely honest, but not enough to prevent the shifter from following through with it. That is, if she agrees to allow him within her class. He’s well aware he’s technically missed the deadline here, and is asking for an exception to be made. “It was sort of a last minute decision, but… well, things happened. I suddenly had more opportunity to do what I couldn’t before. More open possibilities.” And maybe the confidence to do them. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my future, I guess.”
.
She could feel his nervousness, how fluttered around him like a shroud of smoke. Empathy was one of her most prized traits, and Penelope wanted to reach out and touch his hand— to assure him that this would be fine, that he would be alright here, but part of her suspected that doing so would cause him to dart away like something burned. The rift could suspect what had changed in him, his soul mirrored that of the dragons she had caught flying overhead the city— and a smile curved at her lips. “I suppose that big changes always lead to the desire for more.” Penelope tipped her head. “You’ll have to read to catch up to the rest of the class, but if you find yourself curious about the topics, I’d be happy to show you more.” Her fingers ran along the spines of her bookcase, before she pulled one out. “This is on Norse mythology, perhaps one of the better renditions. You might find it interesting.”