Advance an Honest Mind *** [Epyllion]
You know what was deliciously ironic?
The fact that Belle didn’t get along with poetry or the Muse of Epic Poetry.
Well, neither of those things were quite facts.
Belle did enjoy poetry. Sometimes. She was picky about the poet. Too much was left up to interpretation more often than not, and while Belle liked debating the meaning of a passage in a book, poetry was...different because there really was more often than not, no right answer, and that drove her absolutely insane. For every line there was another line that might possibly contradict it. And they always stood alone, so there was nothing else to reference it to.
Concerning Calliope, the situation was even more complicated. Belle didn’t want to not get along with the Muse of Epic Poetry. Hades was quite fond of her, and anyone that Hades liked was good in Belle’s book. (There were so few of them, really. Herself, Toulouse, Calliope...were really the only people coming to mind.) But, well, anyone would feel inferior to an original muse from the myths, who Homer evoked at the beginning of his epics. Who, in some life, had inspired those amazing stories which Belle had grown up reading and loving.
Belle didn’t inspire much of anything in anyone. She was just a little Mundus. And there was a part of her that felt insecure, no matter how much she pushed it down and ignored it, about Hades and Calliope’s relationship. You know, the whole, past lovers, soulmates, True Love business. How was she supposed to compete with that?
Not to mention she’d killed Calliope’s surrogate aunt-mentor-person. Right in front of Calliope’s eyes. There was that too.
All of these things pointed to Belle staying Very Far Away from the muse, but, she couldn’t do it any longer. She wouldn’t let herself. She had almost ten pages of scribbling, trying to decipher the poem that had come to her. She’d been given it--for whatever reason. Possibly just the Fates laughing at her. Lachesis probably thought it was particularly funny. She felt particularly hostile towards Belle for some reason, which was ridiculous because she was an all-powerful Fate. Anyways--
Belle knew she was useless and hopeless and, if she was going to (get someone else to) save Howl, she was going to need to talk to Calliope. So, she’d eventually wrestled her demons and her doubt and stolen Calliope’s number out of Hades’ phone, texting her and apologizing profusely before asking if they could meet up. It was important.
Of course, because Calliope was so nice and lovely and really Belle’s twisted stomach feelings were so unfounded and why was she so insecure? -- she said yes and Belle had instructed her to one of the smaller quads on PrideU’s campus. Belle got there early and sat on a bench, her notes spilling out of her notebook (the notes from trying to free Hades were there also) and in her lap, her hand protectively resting over the cover, was Howl’s Christmas gift to her, which apparently, held her salvation.
If only Belle was smart enough or magical enough or useful enough to figure out what it meant.
