#;calliope

[muserender]

@unheardmuses | (continued from x)

Centuries since they last saw one another. Centuries since Orpheus lost Eurydice, became a mere shadow of his old self; disowned his father, spurned his mother; cast his voice aside, didn’t speak or sing for an age. Orpheus has done many things since then. Healed, perhaps, though not wholly–he has not reconciled with Morpheus and doubts he ever shall, but he has his voice again.

(On his loneliest, bravest nights, he comes to rest atop the walls of Hades and sings again, hoping his love might hear him, might remember him.)

Now here, in a place he has not walked in years, with his mother–she would not have found him if he had not heard other muses speak of her, her fate, her capture. He had heard other things too: that Calliope seeks to change the old laws, that things are moving that have not moved in millenia.

She takes his face in her warm hands and looks at him, and Orpheus nearly crumples with guilt and with love. His eyes are warm brown like hers, starlit in the center like his father’s–and like his father’s, easily filled with tears.

“I would have come, if I had known–

I would have come and brought you home.”

“It is not your burden to carry.” She tells him, and Calliope means it. For herself, she’d had to forgive the men that had hurt her--and perhaps more, those who had not and could not come to her aid when she had so desperately needed it. How could she have asked that of her son, who had already lost so much? How could she expect it of him, to also be her rescuer when she could not relieve him of his sorrows?

It is, and must be in the past. All the lay before them now was the future; a future she was determined would be nothing like what lay behind her. Having her son’s face in her hands, Calliope allowed herself to have hope that it would involve him, as well.

Her thumb brushes a stray tear away gently, leaning up to press her lips to his cheek with maternal warmth. “You do not know the joy it brings me to see you. Hear you.” She murmured, and offered a watery smile. “Will you stay, Orpheus?”

[muserender]

corinthian @ calliope: “ have you told anyone else about this? ”

In the Meme Vault

There's a small shake of her head, her fingers tracing over the table's surface for lack of anything else to do with her hands. There is no reason to feign confusion or to lie--there is nothing the Nightmare can do, and certainly nothing he can hold over her.

"I have no one to tell." Calliope murmured, and finally raised her gaze to his, and perhaps her chin a touch higher. "There is nothing to be done, even if there was. What concern is this of yours?"

[muserender]

corinthian @ calliope: “You could have been hurt.”

In the Meme Vault

"Perhaps." The Muse acknowledged, clasping her hands in front of her--and admittedly keeping her space from him. There was no telling what Morpheus' creations were capable of, even for those such as herself. And she wasn't going to make the mistake of assuming his words came from concern. At least for her.

"Pain is temporary, but I would suffer it and more if it meant less for another. If it meant less for..." If it meant less for one she loved, but she doubted the sentiment would be understood by the nightmare.

[muserender]

[ PRESS ]  for the shorter muse to take hold of the taller one’s face to pull them down so they can press their foreheads together.

[ dream and calliope...]

In the Meme Vault

@unheardmuses

There aren't many in any realm of existence that would even dare to touch Dream of the Endless. It was an indulgence the Muse should not have allowed herself...should not have dared. There were too many things left unsaid between them, after all--so many things that she had not yet found the words for, and things that he would never even attempt.

But just for a moment, the time and the pain between them was nonexistent; something Calliope could wade through as easily as she could any calm waters. Her hands were soft and warm as she brushed fingers across the sharp planes of his face, finally cupping his cheeks in her palms.

Once she'd taken the indulgence, she allowed herself one more...and pulled him carefully down to meet her. Calliope's brow pressed to the dream king's, dark lashes brushing her cheeks as her eyes slipped closed. For these few breaths, nothing else mattered.

"I have missed you, Oneiros."

[muserender]

❝  it has to be me.  no one else can do this.  ❞ [ dream @ calliope ]

In the Meme Vault

@unheardmuses

"You will not let anyone else do this, is what you mean." Said the Muse, hardly missing a beat. She knew his ways by now--knew that he was unlikely to accept help, even when it came at a much larger cost than even his own wellbeing. That was simply his way, and it had been foolish to hope otherwise.

"You would wish for me to stand idly by while you...do whatever it is you think is your responsibility?" There's a sharp, decisive shake of her head. "It is not your sole responsibility, unless you make it so. Cast aside your pride, Oneiros. Accept help, just this once."

[muserender]

❝  there are some things worse than death.  would you like to see them?  ❞ [ @ calliope :)]

In the Meme Vault

"I am familiar with pain, Nightmare." Said the Muse coolly. If she was afraid, it was hardly a flicker in her eye as she regarded him. "I am acquainted with despair, and I have suffered humanity's greed. There are things worse than death..." She agreed.

"And if you intend to harm me," Calliope continued, only now taking a small step back from the Corinthian, "You will no doubt encounter each thing at the hands of your creator."

[muserender]

💬 + "Be honest with me. Do you think me cruel?" [ dream @ calliope]

In the Meme Vault

@unheardmuses

“You often are.” 

The response is pulled from her throat, and she’d very much have liked to have stopped there. Unfortunately, the command wasn’t to be dismissed, and so she continued, “I think you cruel.” She agreed quietly, but wet her lips as she considered the next words. 

“I also think you understand this. You are changing, Oneiros. I did not know you were capable, and yet...it is sifting through you like sand.” The smile that tugs at her lips is wistful, and sad. “I wish you could see it.”