𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐎𝐍 𝐃𝐄𝐂𝐊, 𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄. 𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄. 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐖/ @deathsknife
The roaming never stopped. From Helicon, to Kalavria, and back again; roaming, roaming, roaming. Somehow, somewhere in between, Orpheus always managed to procure the means of nursing a rather consistent buzz. Always making time for an extra drink before being whisked away to some demo on Kalavria. But, this roaming did not equate to boredom — far from it, in fact.
The Kalavria summit was innovative, Orpheus was not ignorant of this. Though, augmentation and immorality never had quite the allure to entice Orpheus — Orpheus, content with stopping their modifications at the human-coloring-book kind of covered in tattoos, and dying at the happy age of eighty-something-or-younger — it was entirely entertaining, being face to face with the future of technology. They did not understand this world, and did not try to. They humored those who might seek to impress Orpheus Aoide, but beyond that? This business venture for those far more important had turned to their playground. And they were enjoying themself.
And so, they roam around Helicon, always looking, always seeking entertainment. Orpheus had, in the lulls between events, taken to people watching. It was fascinating, the sheer amount of people drawn to the Kalavria Summit. Their gaze, shifts from face to face as they meander across the deck, landing on features they almost skip over entirely. A face they, at first, think they could recognize. They talk themself out for a moment, moving on, roaming on.
But then, they stop, turn, single eyebrow raised in the person’s direction. “Thanatos . . . ‘S that you, buddy?” Ten years has a way of changing the people you love, in one way or another. Perhaps Thanatos had changed, only just recognizable to the traitor Asphodel. Or, perhaps, Orpheus’s memory betrayed them, molding and changing Thanatos in memory so that finding him in reality might become a battle against nostalgia. Either reality is cruel, unforgiving.
“It really is you . . . Fuck, man, you look like shit,” rolls off the tongue as their gaze meets. A joke, half obvious. One that makes Orpheus’s cheeks flash bright red before more words stumble out and over their teeth. “Shit, wait, I didn’t mean that.” I can’t joke like that with you anymore, can I? Thanatos did not find Orpheus at Heteraidia, nor did he make being found easy. Their distance spoke volumes: a privilege lost to a decade. A friendship lost? Orpheus hoped not.
“What I meant was . . . It’s good to see you, is all. Sorry it . . . came out like that.” They force half a smile, mangled, strange. It is an odd feeling, to stand before someone you knew for a lifetime, and feel as though a stranger.