@gildedtm. ( s.c )
THE WESTERN SKY IS a vibrant scarlet, clouds painted gold and pink crowning the fiery horizon where the shivering coin glows fiery hot as it retreats beneath the black curve of the earth. Cicadas chirp from the hazy willow trees that look more and more human in the distorting hues of the last rays of the evening sunlight. The beams stretch far and broad, horizontal against the sky, though unable to reach the darkening east. A deep blue covers the zenith and cools into a violet hue that darkens with every step the sun takes closer to disappearance. A single star sparkles in the sky, the first stitch of the embroidery of all constellations.
The black chariot starts its ascent beyond the Underworld, leading forth the pitch mists of the night to cover the sky like a silk scarf to shimmer in the moonlight with beads of stars sewed into the thin fabric. Nyx is unperturbed by the world beneath her growing smaller and smaller. She was, once, but now the grip on her javelin is light, and her hand on the reins is easy. Once she reaches a height, the details of Earth are blotted by a haze and all she can see is the chariot of Apollo, nearly flaming as he reaches the end of his journey. Black eyes narrow on him, and she tries to imagine what Hypnos might see in him. He was born of the dark, raised in the dark, characterised by a soft introversion with a slowness to anger and an appreciation of that which is simple. Apollo seems to be his inversion, a whirlwind of complication and melodrama with a savage temper and insatiable appetite. However, whatever she does not understand pales in comparison to what she does : the lovers of Apollo all share some accursed fate. Whatever her Hypnos and this Olympian feel for each other, it is nothing in the face of her maternal ferocity, and if Hypnos’s tragedy be by her hand, she would rather he loathe her for an eternity than suffer some despicable end by the stubborn decrees of her daughters.
“Apollo,” she calls, her voice as singular and lonely as the darkness, but no less inescapable. Nyx barely has to speak at all and she knows she is heard. “I require a word with you regarding my son.”
