#chant tag

[askthedustbowl]

two dust bowl orphei from the little orpheus lineup i’m (mod jo) working on!

[ivegotaheadlineforyou]

jo and i fully finished chant tonight and holy shit y’all im so excited for you to read more of it this week. part 3 on 09/23, and more to come.

[askthedustbowl]

How are hades and Eurydice doing post chant

They’re doing better. Eurydice took some time off to rest and recover, and when she came back to work, she... well, she had some word with Hades.

“We need to talk.” 

Hades looked up to see Eurydice standing in the doorway to his office. Her hair is pulled back, and she looked pale. She looks tired, Hades thought, as he sat back in his chair.

“Do we now?” Eurydice glared, and shut the door behind her. 

“You crossed a line. You saw that I was hurting, and you tried to exploit that because you were mad at your wife.” Hades saw anger in her eyes. He saw disgust. He stood up, ready to be on the defensive.

“What makes you think you can talk to me in this way?” He said, his voice low and commanding. In any other circumstance, it would have pushed back against Eurydice’s will power. But not today.

“You’re an adult, Hades. You’re the CEO of a multi-million dollar company,” She was seething at his response. “You didn’t offer me that job, with that raise, because you thought I had earned it. You did it because by offering it to me, you could get back at your wife!”

“Eurydi--”

“No.” He looked taken aback. She had never spoken to him like this. Had never shouted at him in this way. 

“Hades... I want to keep working here. I do. But this can never happen again. You don’t get to pull me into your domestic drama. I’m not your bargaining chip. I don’t get paid enough for that. Okay?”

Hades sat back down. He looked up at Eurydice, her head held high, her shoulders squared. He couldn’t do anything but nod.

“Alright.” 

It got quiet in his office for a moment -- the weight of the conversation settling around them. But Eurydice wasn’t done.

“I want to renegotiate my contract.” She said, her eyes on the floor. A look of confusion crossed Hades face, but she continued. “I work longer hours than anyone else here, and yet i’m the only full time employee without benefits and a salary. And if you can’t give me those things, I-I’ll find someplace else to work.”

When Eurydice looked up at Hades, she saw him nodding. “Alright. Schedule it in, and we’ll come to an agreement.”

Hades was proud of Eurydice for stating her worth, and demanding his respect. And he felt a deep shame settle in his chest at the way he had treated her. He knew that this -- giving her the security and shelter she so wished for -- was the easiest way to start making it up to her.

[askthedustbowl]

CHANT; a dust bowl series

i. it’s not supposed to be like this

persephone comes home from her mother’s to see that hades has renovated.

—

leaving demeter’s house always left persephone with a weird feeling. maybe nostalgia, maybe guilt. whatever it was, it was always just slightly different, and it always left her with a sour taste in her mouth, and a pit in her stomach.

this time, it felt like dread.

that feeling was only reinforced when she arrived at her husband’s office building. after dropping her bags at home and saying hello to her lovely—if only slightly hyperactive—puppies, she called a cab and made her way to see her husband. persephone had never enjoyed being in the hadestown corporation office building to begin with—it was too sterile for her, too unnatural. she had always much preferred the warmth and safety of six seeds. as long as persephone didn’t have to spend a while in the office, she could handle it, but now, at the first step over the threshold, she felt a sort of repulsion that was more violent than anything she had ever felt.

the first thing persephone noticed was the temperature. waves of heat were nearly visible in the air—the building felt like it was encased in fire. the air felt heavy and stifling. the second thing persephone noticed was the light. she looked up to see what had happened and quickly turned her head away once her eyes met the blinding white lights. hades had installed new fluorescent lighting in her absence, making everything seem overexposed and painfully cohesive.

this was terrible by itself, but when the elevator doors opened to the seventh floor, everything became so much worse. the sight of the area itself was nearly unbearable. the workers—these people whom she had grown so familiar with over the years, those whom persephone was beginning to see as extended family—looked lifeless. they kept their heads low, bent over mountains of paperwork. the bright conversation she had come to know had been stifled.

persephone exited the elevator slowly, taking stock of the world around her. this wasn’t right. she slipped off her coat and draped it over her arm as she approached the front desk.

“jessie?” she asked as she walked over to hades’s secretary. the plants she had given her only weeks ago were looking worse for wear—they weren’t meant to survive in an environment like this. not much was.

jessie looked up. “persephone.” she breathed a sigh of relief. “thank the gods.”

persephone frowned. “he…he renovated.”

jessie nodded. “he’s expecting you.” she said in a tired voice, far from the cheerful tone that persephone had come to associate with her. when her husband told her that he was too busy to collect her from the train station, this must have been why. he had been holding up in his office all day. “go on in.”

persephone quietly thanked her, and stepped into hades’s office. an angry little voice in her head whispered in her ears. he wanted her to see this. he wanted her to see the horrific changes he had made. he was proud of this.

she pushed open the door to his office, and he turned to face her. “persephone!” his mouth spread wide in a grin, an expression she knew he saved exclusively for her. “welcome home.”

“home? this…what happened here?” persephone asked. she knew that by foregoing a greeting, she was asking for an argument, but this was unacceptable. what had he done?

hades’s smile vanished at the tone of her voice. “what are you getting at?”

“hades, the people, the building.” persephone glanced pointedly around the room. “what did you do?”

hades’s eyes grew dark and stormy. these days, persephone was acquainted with that look. it seemed like every conversation had to eventually turn into an argument with him.

“i made some upgrades.” he said, as if he were talking to a child who didn’t know any better than to question him. persephone hated when he spoke to her like that.

“why?!” she hissed. she looked at her husband, looking for something in his eyes that would make sense of all this. a sign that he realized he had done something wrong. “this is horrific!”

hades set his jaw. “i did this for you, persephone.”

persephone couldn’t suppress a laugh, which only made his jaw clench. this was ridiculous. “for me?”

“yes, for you.” hades moved to take her coat, but she pulled away at the last moment. “you love the brightness and the warmth.”

oh gods, he was serious. “yes, hades, i do! when it’s from the sun! when it’s natural!” persephone gaped at the state of his office, with its too-bright lights and too-high temperature. “this...this is horrifying! and you’re subjecting your employees to this?”

hades scowls. “i thought you would be grateful.”

“why would you ever think that i would enjoy this?!” persephone cried, throwing her hands up in exasperation. she knew that the workers would hear their shouting, but she didn’t care. why on earth would he do something this ridiculous?

suddenly, persephone realized something. a chill ran down her spine as something terrible entered her mind. “hades, i don’t work here.” she whispered. “why are you changing this office for me?”

he grinned at her—back to playing the part of the hades she knew and had fallen in love with. persephone ignored his smile. she had to know exactly why he did this.

“i’ve cleared an office for you.” he declared. “i want to bring you on the team. that way we can spend more time together. and if you’re working here, you don’t have to go see demeter half as often as you do.” he spoke as if he had figured out a solution to everything wrong in their lives.

persephone took a step back, shaking her head in disbelief. “hades, i’m not giving up the shop. this has never been on the table before.” she watched as his face fell, his smile disappearing as quickly as it had before. her disbelief was slowly turning into anger. “i don’t want to work here. i never have. hades, this is your place, your job—not mine. why would you do this without talking to me first?”

“if i didn’t know any better, i would think you’re trying to get away from me!” hades matched her volume, and in his deep voice, it almost made persephone want to cower back and run out of his office. but she held her ground.

“hades, you’re acting like a child!” persephone snapped. “i see my mother because she’s my mother! i run the shop because i love it there! gods, not everything is about you!”

before he had a chance to respond, she turned on her heel and walked out of his office, slamming the door behind her. she looked up to see all of the workers looking at her, a painful mix of hope and resignation on their faces.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered, before sliding her coat on, and making her way out of the office before her husband could follow.

[askthedustbowl]

CHANT; a dust bowl series

iii. did you hear me? orpheus?

it was hard for him to not count down the days. it was hard to not to hear his alarm in the mornings and be reminded of heart monitors and machinery. and the closer they got to the anniversary, the more of his grip he lost.

it had been almost four years. she would have been 42.

cal’s birthday at the beginning of the month had been a hard day for orpheus, but hermes had tried to make it special, make it into a celebration of her rather than a day of mourning. he knew that that day would arrive all too soon. so he made up her favourite cake, and poured a couple of her favourite drinks, and invited her sisters over after hours -- a toast to cal. everyone came except one, and hermes watched as orpheus kept reaching for a hand that wasn’t there, kept reaching for the young girl.

unbeknownst to orpheus, hermes had called eurydice the night before, had left her a voicemail. he told her that orpheus was gonna need her now more than ever, but she didn’t show up. so hermes was forced to watch as the comfort of his aunts fell short of the comfort he needed.

since her birthday, orpheus was having trouble sleeping—no, existing without being overcome with grief and the feeling as though his heart had simply stopped working. he would be serving at the bar, and do a double take at a girl sitting in a booth that looked like her. he woke up from dead sleeps after swearing that he felt her hand on his forehead, only to find he was alone. he found himself sitting in the window seat, watching for the moon and praying that she would send him a sign.

the only time he felt close to her was when he was playing.

cal played guitar all her life, and when orpheus was big enough, she taught him to play -- a little melody that she had found and come to like when he was a baby. the first time she played it on guitar for him his whole face lit up.

“mama, that’s my song!” he smiled, trying to crawl into her lap, between her and the guitar. cal smiled and made room for him.

“what do you mean, ‘your song’, baby?” cal asked, kissing the top of his head as she kept playing. she slowed it down just a little so he could watch her fingers move.

“it’s my song! the one you sing to me when i’m sleeping!” cal smiled at him and shook her head. her boy was observant -- he could hear when she snuck in at night to sit by his bed and watch him sleep. she couldn’t believe he was hers, and she sang softly to him often. a melody of love with no lyrics. just some simple ‘la’s.

“how ‘bout i teach you to play it, and then it can be our song?” orpheus looked up at cal with his big brown eyes and nodded, desperate to learn to make music; to make magic with his hands. “maybe one day we can put words to it.”

years later, it was only when orpheus was playing it on his own did he feel like his mom was near him.

sat in the window seat, while hermes was out running errands, orpheus sang along to cal’s melody, to their song. his eyes were closed as he plucked away, trying to remember how it felt to have her hands on his shoulders, to feel her hands over his when he was learning to play. when he played, when he hummed along with the melody, soft la la las falling from his lips, he felt like she wasn’t gone, just out with hermes. just in the kitchen, or in her bedroom.

when he stopped playing, that hope disappeared. it was so bright and clear in his mind one moment and it was gone the next. orpheus felt his heart lurch at the sensation, at the act of remembering that she was gone, and she wasn’t coming back.

he kept playing.

he played until hermes came home and told him it was time to open up. and even behind the bar, his left hand moved gently, as if moving along an imaginary fretboard. and when the night was over, and last call had been announced, he went upstairs and sat in his room, playing as quietly as he could, until he could no longer keep his eyes open and he fell asleep, his hand still on cal’s guitar. he was willing to do anything to keep cal as close as he could. the longer she had been gone, the harder it was to feel like she was still there. and he needed her.

when he woke in the middle of the night, he gasped as his eyes flew open. his heart was racing and on his lips was the ghost of the word mom. tears flooded his eyes and a deep seated desire to be held washed over him. without really thinking about it, he grabbed his phone off the windowsill and went straight to eurydice’s number.

he looked at her number, but after a moment of fear, put the phone away. he didn’t need to burden her with this -- with tears and nightmares over a woman she had never met before. orpheus knew when he met eurydice that she was out of his league, and part of his brain kept reminding him that if he put too much on her, she wouldn’t want to stick around.

so he closed his eyes and placed the guitar in his lap and he kept playing.

la, la la la la la la.

[askthedustbowl]

CHANT; a dust bowl series

iv. keep your head low

with the weather and the snow, clio and erato had made the executive decision to have family dinner at the townhouse erato and cory shared. having dinner in the city made it safer for everyone to get home, and with cory’s nutcracker season, it would allow her to disappear early if need be. clio was ultra conscious as to the time of year, as to when this family dinner was happening, and she was trying her best to bring some sense of stability into it. 

december dinners always carried ghosts with them. 

the holiday season, filled with sweets and twinkly lights also brought memories of hospitals and funeral homes. memories of fever dreams and outbursts. clio knew that tensions would be high, and hearts would be tender, and she was doing all she could to soften the blows. and if that meant taking a half day in the archives, and spending the afternoon with erato setting up the dining room and making dinner, then so be it.

it was dark when everyone started arriving. first mel, and soon after cory and euterpe arrived, shucking their coats and their outerwear, wandering into the kitchen to embrace one another. cory quickly excused herself to shower, but only after noting the smell of the food. the house smelled of baked apples and roasted vegetables.

“how’s cory doing?” clio asked euterpe, knowing that nutcracker season really got to cory — it was her favourite ballet, and her favourite role, and she was known to put some high expectations on herself. euterpe sighed, picking up her wine glass.

“she’s alright. she’s been teaching a lot, helping with the children’s corp,” euterpe said. she had shifted one of the dining room chairs around to be able to face erato and clio in the open kitchen.

“that’s good. it’ll cut down on her rehearsal time,” erato said, as she added fixings to the big salad bowl she was working on. all the girls nodded, in agreement over the fact that anything to cut down on the time cory spent rehearsing would be good for her, both physically and mentally.

“anyone home?” the conversation shifted, as they heard the front door open, and a bright voice call into the house. clio leaned back from the stove to see thalia, urania, poly, and orpheus come through the door. she smiled at them, but her smile quickly faltered. she had expected five guests to be walking through the door. 

she turned back to the stove, listening to euterpe and mel welcome everyone inside, but she also heard the sound of quick footsteps. when she turned she saw thalia rushing over to her.

“hey, we gotta talk,” she breathed out, rubbing her hands together to warm herself up. 

“i was just about to say — were you not supposed to be bringing eurydice?” clio looked around the room, desperately hoping she hadn’t just missed her.

“yeah, clio. least of our worries. hermes says that he’s not eating again.” clio dropped the spoon she had in her hand and turned her whole body to look at her younger sister. she was biting her lower lip, and her eyes held within them a sense of distilled worry. they had seen this before, and they had all hoped that they would never see it again.

“he said, what?” clio asked quietly, doing her best to keep her voice at bay. what she wanted was to run in there and cup her nephews face in her hands, to beg and plead that he not go through this alone again. but she knew she couldn’t, and it was going to kill her.

“two weeks. he’s been sleeping and working, and when he’s not doing that, he’s playing. hermes says that it’s the same melody, all the time without fail.”

“is it…?”

“cal’s melody, yeah,” thalia nodded, leaning against the counter. “and hermes hasn’t seen eurydice in weeks. says he has no idea what’s happened.”

clio reached up to cover her face, rubbing her fingers over her eyes as she tried to focus. cal would know what to do, a small voice in the back of her head piped up, but clio had no time for that now. she shook her head.

“thalia,” she said, trying to jump into action as quickly as she could. “take one of the chairs and put it in the other room — we don’t need an empty seat at the table right now. we’ll…” she took a deep breath, turning off the stove, and removing the stew from the heat. “we’ll figure this out after. but lets try and get some food into him, okay?” thalia nodded, and the two reached for one another, pulling each other into a fast but fierce hug. 

clio finished quickly with the food, placing it in bowls on the table, before going to join the rest of her family in the living room. when she caught eyes with orpheus, it was like she was seeing a ghost. his skin was paler than normal, his eyes a medley of exhaustion and grief, and the smile he offered to clio didn’t reach them. 

“hey, little man,” clio said, walking over to wrap him up in a hug. he had lost weight. he felt too thin in her arms. she could feel him shivering. “good to see you.”

“you too, clio,” he said, and his voice was hoarse. it shocked her and she wanted nothing but to pull back and ask her questions and demand answers, but he needed a rock right now, not a bolt of lighting. her inquiries as to what happened and please talk to me and where’s eurydice died before they reached her lips.

“you doing alright?” she asked, stroking his strong cheekbone that he got from his mom gently. he nodded and smiled again but his eyes stayed sad.

“i’m… i’m okay. i miss her,” he said and clio nodded, pulling him in for another hug and placing a kiss on his brow. she didn’t know what orpheus meant by ‘her’ and it worried her more than it should have.

“we all do, orpheus. but come on. she wouldn’t want us to let dinner get cold,” she said, pulling back and turning to her sisters. “c’mon, girls. dinner’s ready.”

as they made their way into the kitchen, clio’s arm wrapped around orpheus’ shoulders, she smiled to thalia, who had readjusted the table setting, before they went to sit in their regular seats. euterpe slid in next to orpheus, after placing a firm but comforting hand on his knee. as clio passed around dishes, she locked eyes with everyone, and everyone looked back at each other, with one question on their minds and in their eyes — what do we do?

dinner passed without any upsets. orpheus stayed quiet the whole time, taking only a few bites of the stew, and not touching anything else. afterwards, when all the food was finished, wine had been poured, and conversations had been had, mel and euterpe shooed everyone out of the kitchen and into the living room, claiming that they would tidy up. when they were finally alone, the three eldest looked to each other for something. anything.

“what’s happened? what do we know?” euterpe jumped up, eyes focused and arms crossed over her chest. 

“thalia just told me what hermes told her — he’s not eating again, and he’s barely doing anything except for sleeping, working, and playing cal’s melody,” clio said, rubbing at her forehead. mel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“and eurydice isn’t here. that’s important to note — he would have said something if she had prior engagements, so can we safely assume something’s happened between them?” mel asked, her voice soft, and the inherent melancholy tugging on heartstrings more than usual.

“i’ll tear her to shreds,” euterpe growled out between clenched teeth. “if she’s the one behind this, i’ll — ”

“we can’t assume that, euterpe,” mel said, her eyes piercing. euterpe, normally so collected and strong often let her protective nature override her. mel quickly brought her back to centre, but euterpe was still seething. “we don’t know any details.”

“any ideas what we can do, mel?” clio asked.

“we wait for him to talk to us,” mel said. euterpe opened her mouth to say something but mel jumped in before she could say anything.

“orpheus knows that he has us. he knows that we’re here. but we can’t keep swooping in to coddle him. he needs to do this on his own.”

as mel spoke, clio looked out into the living room. orpheus was curled up on the couch between poly and cory. his eyes were downcast, and she watched as his hands twitched gently, plucking strings on a fret board that didn’t exist. his head was down, so focused on the voices in his head, and the obvious bleeding of his heart, that he couldn’t see the love that surrounded him. clio hoped with everything she had, that he wouldn’t drown in his own grief.

[askthedustbowl]

orpheus, during chant: hermes, if you need me, i’ll be in my room, drinking my sorrows away.

orpheus, in his room: [opens a capri sun]

[askthedustbowl]

CHANT; a dust bowl series

vii. keeping one eye on the sky.

she left the office early, and spent about ten minutes standing, dazed, in the lobby, unsure of what to do or where to go. part of her brain pulled her towards the library, towards the warmth that the stacks offered her and the studying she knew she still had to do. but the other dragged her down, called her to her apartment and to her bed. a suffocating exhaustion had seeped into her bones and called her to lie down. called her to sleep. to take the losses of the day and attempt to make sense of them in her head. she needed to lie down.

she had almost lost her job.

hades’ booming voice shook within her chest. on the bus to her apartment, she could still feel the way his disappointment rattled around within her head, the way it pulled her under. he had called her insolent. he had insulted her, and torn down the walls that she at one point thought so sturdy. he had caused them to crumble in a matter of moments.

her mind blinked in and out as she got off the bus and headed into her apartment. she couldn’t get a grip on the day -- one minute hades had been shouting at her, on the brink of firing her. the next minute he was offering her a job.

“help me start up the southern expansion,” hades had said to her. “i’ll cover all your moving costs, re-enroll you in classes so you can finish your degree, and up your pay. the fact that the new location down south means no more of these nasty winters is just a bonus, huh?” she looked him in the eyes, unsure if his offer was genuine or if he was mocking her. she hadn’t told anyone that she’d been unable to afford heating since october, that when the snow and the wind whipped outside her apartment, she could feel every breeze and gust of wind.

“you won’t be an assistant any longer,” he had continued, leaning back in his chair. “you’d be in sales. have monthly targets, your own clients. bring your knowledge from this office and teach it to the new hires. how does that sound?”

she didn’t respond -- didn’t know how to.

he gave her the rest of the day to consider it.

as she let herself into her own apartment, she couldn’t help but dread it. she didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be cold, surrounded by darkness and loneliness. she looked around her apartment and the space she once thought of as beautiful and spacious, entirely her own, felt cramped and crowded. she looked around and saw the threadbare curtains, and the hand-me-down couch and coffee table. she looked around and felt out of place. she felt like the little runaway she used to be, scrounging together just enough to have a pretend home. she knew this was coming -- she never meant to stay this long, anyway.

she went to open her cupboard, desperate to feel something in her stomach, to soothe the ache she felt, but they were bare. eurydice hadn’t had the money to buy food, and her meals usually came from kitchen leftovers at the dust bowl. hermes would more often than not slide a plate of food in front of her -- half a sandwich, a bowl of soup, just enough to keep her fed -- before chiding her about her bad eating habits. she remembers rolling her eyes then, but now she would give anything to be sat at that bar, those people around her. those people. Her family.

not now. not anymore.

the thoughts swirled in her head, the job offer, the people she had pushed away, and those that had pushed her away, her desperate desire to feel warm and fed and wanted. she couldn’t handle it all. she slipped her coat off, and grabbed the sweater that she had been trying to ignore for the last few weeks. she pulled it over her head, and rolled up the sleeves, much too big on her small frame. It still smelled a bit like him, she thought, trying to ignore the real possibility that it was all in her mind.

before she knew what she was doing, she was curling up on the couch, searching through her phone for the phone number. she pulled the blankets around herself tight as she pressed the number. the sound of the phone ringing caused her heart to beat faster. she swallowed around the pit that had formed in her throat as she braced for the inevitable. there was a click and a slight rustle on the other end before:

“hello, this is the dust bowl.”

she clamped a hand over her mouth and she shut her eyes. she had missed his voice. it sounded tired, a little raw, but warm. she felt tears forming and she stayed silent.

“h-hello? anyone there?” she heard him say into the phone, confusion clouding his voice. it’s me, she wanted to cry out. why did you go away? she wanted to demand from him. but she kept her mouth closed. she had pushed him away first. from the first time he told her he loved her, eurydice knew that this was coming. she knew that orpheus would one day find a way to push away and keep her at arms length. and she couldn’t fault him for that — people can only handle so much baggage.

“who’s on the phone, poet?” she could hear hermes’s gentle voice in the background. she missed him too — the world around the poet always seemed brighter and warmer. the people around him, the way he instilled the air with a feeling of light that was scarce in the rest of the world.

“no one’s there,” she heard him say. I’m here, she wanted to call out. I’m right here, orpheus. but she bit her tongue and pressed the phone closer to her ear.

“hang up, orpheus.” hermes’s faint voice said. he sounded grave, and eurydice felt her heart quicken at his words. she knew hermes, and she knew that he wouldn’t use that tone of voice with his godson unless it was imperative. something was wrong.

“okay,” she heard orpheus’s voice getting further away before the line disconnected. she let out a shaky breath that got caught in her throat and a half sob tore its way out. her thumb hovered over the number, wanting nothing more than to call back, hear his voice again, ask him what was wrong. but she shook her head, and locked her phone. she wiped the tears from her eyes and muscled up the energy to stand up, and go find her suitcase. it was time to pack — to leave behind the only life she had ever wanted. gone was the warmth and the light. gone was the safety and the arms that once harboured her. eurydice had done what she had done best, and she was once again alone. she had made her bed, and now she had to lie in it.