#convo:lysander

[ikarosxtheoinos]

@lysanderxreis​​

Location/Time Frame: Ancient Greece

There was nothing quite like the stage, but Ikaros had always loved being the center of attention. Scorned for wicked ways and vile, ancient traditions, so much of his kind were hated by the upper class for what they represented. Liberation from social order. Perhaps that was what attracted Ikaros to acting so much, with a charm, a paint brush, or a mask, he could become anyone. The trickster could be Jason of the Argonauts, or Medea a daughter of the dragon king - a nymph, a pirate. Dramatic and tragic and romantic all in a single night. 

Whispers followed wherever Ikaros went that he and his companions were among those from the cursed village attributed with Dionysus’s favor but such things could not be proven. Even still, even a rumor could cause a great deal of damage where a young actor’s career was concerned. So there, in an empty theater the kobalos sat and wept as he held a mask between his hands that he would never get to wear, at least not on the stage. Ikaros did not have to look to see who it was that approached, he could tell by the way climate changed: how his feet struck the earth and the smell of wine filled the space between them. 

“Philokles got the role over me.” Ikaros said, spiteful before watery blue eyes met Lysander’s. A storm raged within him, he wanted to inflict horror and terror, but more than vengeance he wanted the role to be his. “The muses Thalia and Melpomene are going to be there and that hack has been given it over me!”

[markusxcamlann]

@lysanderxreis​

The witch had been trying ( in vain ) to find a solution to his Tartarus problem, he was mortal, which meant that inevitably he would die and return to the pit. There was no absolution for his soul, no way around what awaited him now. At least, no solution that he liked. Markus returned to the ruins of the hotel, now nothing but a pit of ash and charred brickwork, he’d considered a number of things to build over this place, but now it seemed to be haunted. A ghost made his way towards him, a man he’d seen countless times now - was this yet another eidolon? The magic that emanated off of it was convincingly similar to the brother he’d once known, the changeling child that had been raised as his family for years. “You aren’t real.” Markus stated, unconvinced, “I buried you myself.”

[drekixarngeirsson]

@lysanderxreis​

The stagnant stench of wine greeted him first, loud and bursting as it cracked his senses wide open. A shaky hand rubbed at bleary eyes before Dreki sat up from where he’d collapsed on the ground the night before. He was - in a vineyard - ? That’s what it looked like anyways. Gnawing on the roots of the world tree and consuming the wayward souls of the useless and the damned had taught him some of this world, but some things had not changed, no matter how many years had passed. Dreki looked over and saw a naked man beside him. He nudged him roughly before he looked down and saw that he himself wasn’t wearing any pants. “Who the fuck are you?”