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@waitforme-imcoming
"La, la la la, la la la.."
It's an old song, it's an old tale, it's a tragedy. But if you walk these lands long enough, you may be able to find him.
The poor boy working on a song, the dreamer.. He is known as Orpheus, and you can hear his song from wherever your weary soul may listen.
❛ if no one takes too much, there will always be enough. ❜ - @waitforme-imcoming
persephone's brow arches, a small laugh coming from between her lips. ❝ you sure my brother raised you, kid ? i mean... you're right, but hermes wouldn't know moderation if it kicked him in the ass. ❞
Orpheus can't help but smile back at her, plucking an easy tune from his lyre all the while as he watched her, admiration shining in his eyes. "Mr. Hermes always said it was better to do as he says, not as he does.." He hums, laughing softly. "But it's true! We need enough to share up here on top.."
❛ i knew you before we met, and i didn’t even know you yet. ❜ - @waitforme-imcoming // you did this. YOUUUUU DID THIS/SILLY
who are you?
"Oh- Uh- I'm Orpheus!" Fumbling with the newspaper flower in his hands, he thrusts it forward. "And you are..?"
“Eurydice.” She inspects the flower, unimpressed. “Is there a reason you’re still staring at me?”
He's definitely starting to sweat now. "Your name is like a melody." Orpheus blurts, before smiling, "You're beautiful, has.. anyone ever told you that?"
“A singer. Is that what you are?” Eurydice’s gaze was unrelenting, watching him like a hawk. “I’ve been told that before, yeah. It’s something men seem to notice a lot. Have you got anything other than any compliments? I’m just wondering.” She wondered if he thought she was that easy — if he thought he could present a paper flower and some sweet words and she’d fall into his arms like a girl who didn’t know any better. She wouldn’t — she couldn’t.
Orpheus' head bobs in an eager nod, his hand motioning to wherever he left his lyre last as his eyes shined. "I also play the lyre!" Undeterred by the wariness in her gaze, or the disdain in her words, his smile twitched into something more awkward, more bashful, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I usually sing.. but if you're not the music type, I do poems as well!" He didn't realize how strongly he was coming on, the eagerness for a connection with her blinding him to how strange he must've seemed to approach a stranger in this sort of manner.
“So you’re a poet,” Eurydice asserted, leaning forward, wholly focused on the words she said to him, “a liar, and a player too! How do you manage it all?” She’d been down this road before, knew the route like the back of her hand. Charming phrases and a pretty smile and everything falling apart soon after, leaving her discarded and alone. She was alone already, always had been. And was he seriously trying to come onto her in a train station, of all places? Her expression hardened as she leaned away, her tone entirely dismissive as she said, “I’ve met too many men like you.”
Orpheus' eyes widened in bewilderment, as if truly not expecting that sort of reaction from her, as he shook his head. "Oh- No- I'm not like that!" His hands fumbled before her, as if not knowing what to do with them exactly. He had never really attempted to charm anyone before, never had a muse before him that had his heart soaring like her.. Desperate for something to keep the conversation going, he leaned in closer, almost too close, as he looked at her. "You see, um.. I'm working on a song!" His expression turned bashful as he looked away once more, "It isn't finished yet, but when it's done, and when I sing it, spring will come again!" There was almost a dreamy quality to his voice as he threw his hands in the air, as if hoping she could see what he was imagining.
Eurydice raised her eyebrows expectantly when he fumbled, ever patient. She had the time, of course, to sit here and watch him squirm. What surprised her was him leaning towards her. She leaned away immediately, though she kept her gaze on him as he explained his latest project. “Spring will come? When?” Her voice, which began harsh, softened out to a confused murmur as she continued, “I haven’t seen a spring or fall since… I can’t recall.” She chewed on her lip in contemplation, her gaze lifting to the imaginary world he’d painted with his hands. “So when you sing your song,” Eurydice began, “the one you’re working on, spring will come again. Yes?” She crossed her arms over her chest, fixing him with another look, tilting her chin up towards him in challenge. “Why don’t you sing it, then?”
Orpheus was quick to back off the moment she leaned away, expression somehow growing even more bashful as he stared at her with wide eyes. That was the last thing he wanted.. Scaring her off before he could even make an attempt at charming her properly, even if he wasn't the best at charm. "That's what I'm working on." He grinned, slipping away from her before throwing his hands up in the air again, as if trying to summon the melody from thin air. "A song to fix what's wrong, take what's broken, make it whole.." His voice drifted into a hum, as if contemplating what to say to properly portray how beautiful the world he was seeing could be before he turned back to her. "Yes!" He nodded eagerly, ecstatic that she was willing to listen. At her challenge though, he faltered, rubbing the back of his neck once more as he sighed. "It isn't finished.."
Anybody got a match?
Orpheus is fumbling and reaching into his apron. He is taking way too long to find a match. He will still keep trying anyway.
Eurydice finds a match and lights her candle, shielding the flame with her hand. Only once it’s secure does she lower her fingers, glancing up at a boy in an apron for a split second before turning to watch the rest of the people in the station.
Orpheus' shoulders droop when he realizes he missed the chance, rocking on his feet for a moment before he reaches into his apron again. He finds his own matchbox, approaching her and clearing his throat. "Excuse me?" He holds it out, a nervous smile on his lips. "Have this.. in case your flame goes out."
Eurydice’s eyes snapped up, her breath catching in her throat. A feeling washed over her, the strangest sensation. She knew him. She knew him. And yet, she couldn’t think of his name, or place his face, really. She reached forward, careful to touch only a single match that she lifted out of the box. Surely he didn’t want her to take the whole thing… did he? “Thanks,” she told him with a single nod. She couldn’t help the words that left her next, her eyes narrowed slightly in concentration as she studied his face.
“Do we know each other?”
Orpheus nodded, clearly oblivious to her inner turmoil as he kept smiling, the simple action of placing the matchbox on the table more than enough to show that yes, he absolutely did want her to take the whole thing. "Of course!" His voice was light, airy, almost melodic in the way that his words often were. At her question, his head tilted, confusion crossing over his expression as he quietly shook his head. "I don't believe so..? I'm certain I would remember someone like you." Although, even as he spoke, he became aware of his own feelings towards the situation.. That she was someone he had known before, despite never knowing her at all.
Eurydice’s eyes flickered down to the matchbox, then back up to the man staring at her. He sounded so carefree — the opposite of how she usually felt. She took the box in her hands, slipping it into the pocket of her coat with another nod to him. “Sorry, I — I just thought you looked like someone I knew.” It was stupid. She knew better than to talk to strangers, to risk inviting them into her world. And yet. He didn’t seem to be that to her, not entirely a stranger. Sighing, she lifted the box back out, holding it out towards him. “You sure you can spare these? I just needed the one match. You don’t have to freeze tonight just because of me.” She knew what it was like to be out in the cold — it would be wrong to keep all of them for herself.
Orpheus beamed once she took the matchbox, chest puffing slightly with pride that his offering was accepted. His head shook in a reassuring gesture, his hands lifting slightly into the air as he looked at her. "It's alright, really! You also feel familiar.." His head tilted this way and that as he observed her, as if trying to place where he would know her from. It felt like it was on the tip of his tongue, like some unwritten melody just waiting to burst from his chest.. He looked back at the box when she held it out towards him, quick to shake his head and wave his hands in front of him. "Oh, it's fine, you should take them! I can always grab more anyway, I don't mind.." His hand rested over his heart as he looked at her, "In fact, it would be far more troubling if you went around freezing tonight.. So I insist you keep the matches!"
Eurydice blinked once, hard. There it was again, that damn Déjà vu. It couldn’t have meant anything, just another strange feeling. At least it was something kind of warm, like a flower peeking through the stone, blooming in spite of the bitter cold. It was the opposite of the harsh wind, bitter and biting. It seemed he was the opposite of the wind too. “That’s… very kind,” Eurydice mumbled, though she did take the matches, running her fingers along the edges of the box. “Guess you’ll be expecting me to keep you warm tonight, right?” She’d shifted forward, an almost flirtatious edge tilting up her voice as she looked up at him. She knew how this went — give and take, an eye for an eye. Or in this case, a match for a match. A spark for a spark, maybe. “You’re looking kind of cold already.”
Even with the goofy grin on his lips, Orpheus couldn't help the ache in his chest.. Couldn't shake off the feeling that despite never knowing her before, he somehow knew her exactly as she was.. How warm of a feeling, to know a stranger so intimately. He couldn't help but want to chase after it, to reach out to her until his fingertips could fully grasp her. Shaking out of his thoughts, he blinked in surprise at her words, face warming before he even registered the implications. "Huh? I mean- You don't owe me anything, truly!" A hand rested over his heart, the other raising in a frantic motion, as if trying to rid her of the assumptions she had of him. "I promise, I only gave you those for your comfort.. We don't need to do anything beyond talking like this." Even as he spoke the words, he couldn't help the slight sadness at the thought.. She truly was unlike anyone he had ever met. But on the other hand, he didn't want to force her into being around him if she didn't want to be.
Wait bro look behind you
"Why, is there something behind me?-" Orpheus turns around. Uh oh..
❛ i knew you before we met, and i didn’t even know you yet. ❜ - @waitforme-imcoming // you did this. YOUUUUU DID THIS/SILLY
who are you?
"Oh- Uh- I'm Orpheus!" Fumbling with the newspaper flower in his hands, he thrusts it forward. "And you are..?"
“Eurydice.” She inspects the flower, unimpressed. “Is there a reason you’re still staring at me?”
He's definitely starting to sweat now. "Your name is like a melody." Orpheus blurts, before smiling, "You're beautiful, has.. anyone ever told you that?"
“A singer. Is that what you are?” Eurydice’s gaze was unrelenting, watching him like a hawk. “I’ve been told that before, yeah. It’s something men seem to notice a lot. Have you got anything other than any compliments? I’m just wondering.” She wondered if he thought she was that easy — if he thought he could present a paper flower and some sweet words and she’d fall into his arms like a girl who didn’t know any better. She wouldn’t — she couldn’t.
Orpheus' head bobs in an eager nod, his hand motioning to wherever he left his lyre last as his eyes shined. "I also play the lyre!" Undeterred by the wariness in her gaze, or the disdain in her words, his smile twitched into something more awkward, more bashful, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I usually sing.. but if you're not the music type, I do poems as well!" He didn't realize how strongly he was coming on, the eagerness for a connection with her blinding him to how strange he must've seemed to approach a stranger in this sort of manner.
“So you’re a poet,” Eurydice asserted, leaning forward, wholly focused on the words she said to him, “a liar, and a player too! How do you manage it all?” She’d been down this road before, knew the route like the back of her hand. Charming phrases and a pretty smile and everything falling apart soon after, leaving her discarded and alone. She was alone already, always had been. And was he seriously trying to come onto her in a train station, of all places? Her expression hardened as she leaned away, her tone entirely dismissive as she said, “I’ve met too many men like you.”
Orpheus' eyes widened in bewilderment, as if truly not expecting that sort of reaction from her, as he shook his head. "Oh- No- I'm not like that!" His hands fumbled before her, as if not knowing what to do with them exactly. He had never really attempted to charm anyone before, never had a muse before him that had his heart soaring like her.. Desperate for something to keep the conversation going, he leaned in closer, almost too close, as he looked at her. "You see, um.. I'm working on a song!" His expression turned bashful as he looked away once more, "It isn't finished yet, but when it's done, and when I sing it, spring will come again!" There was almost a dreamy quality to his voice as he threw his hands in the air, as if hoping she could see what he was imagining.
Anybody got a match?
Orpheus is fumbling and reaching into his apron. He is taking way too long to find a match. He will still keep trying anyway.
Eurydice finds a match and lights her candle, shielding the flame with her hand. Only once it’s secure does she lower her fingers, glancing up at a boy in an apron for a split second before turning to watch the rest of the people in the station.
Orpheus' shoulders droop when he realizes he missed the chance, rocking on his feet for a moment before he reaches into his apron again. He finds his own matchbox, approaching her and clearing his throat. "Excuse me?" He holds it out, a nervous smile on his lips. "Have this.. in case your flame goes out."
Eurydice’s eyes snapped up, her breath catching in her throat. A feeling washed over her, the strangest sensation. She knew him. She knew him. And yet, she couldn’t think of his name, or place his face, really. She reached forward, careful to touch only a single match that she lifted out of the box. Surely he didn’t want her to take the whole thing… did he? “Thanks,” she told him with a single nod. She couldn’t help the words that left her next, her eyes narrowed slightly in concentration as she studied his face.
“Do we know each other?”
Orpheus nodded, clearly oblivious to her inner turmoil as he kept smiling, the simple action of placing the matchbox on the table more than enough to show that yes, he absolutely did want her to take the whole thing. "Of course!" His voice was light, airy, almost melodic in the way that his words often were. At her question, his head tilted, confusion crossing over his expression as he quietly shook his head. "I don't believe so..? I'm certain I would remember someone like you." Although, even as he spoke, he became aware of his own feelings towards the situation.. That she was someone he had known before, despite never knowing her at all.
Eurydice’s eyes flickered down to the matchbox, then back up to the man staring at her. He sounded so carefree — the opposite of how she usually felt. She took the box in her hands, slipping it into the pocket of her coat with another nod to him. “Sorry, I — I just thought you looked like someone I knew.” It was stupid. She knew better than to talk to strangers, to risk inviting them into her world. And yet. He didn’t seem to be that to her, not entirely a stranger. Sighing, she lifted the box back out, holding it out towards him. “You sure you can spare these? I just needed the one match. You don’t have to freeze tonight just because of me.” She knew what it was like to be out in the cold — it would be wrong to keep all of them for herself.
Orpheus beamed once she took the matchbox, chest puffing slightly with pride that his offering was accepted. His head shook in a reassuring gesture, his hands lifting slightly into the air as he looked at her. "It's alright, really! You also feel familiar.." His head tilted this way and that as he observed her, as if trying to place where he would know her from. It felt like it was on the tip of his tongue, like some unwritten melody just waiting to burst from his chest.. He looked back at the box when she held it out towards him, quick to shake his head and wave his hands in front of him. "Oh, it's fine, you should take them! I can always grab more anyway, I don't mind.." His hand rested over his heart as he looked at her, "In fact, it would be far more troubling if you went around freezing tonight.. So I insist you keep the matches!"
Anybody got a match?
Orpheus is fumbling and reaching into his apron. He is taking way too long to find a match. He will still keep trying anyway.
Eurydice finds a match and lights her candle, shielding the flame with her hand. Only once it’s secure does she lower her fingers, glancing up at a boy in an apron for a split second before turning to watch the rest of the people in the station.
Orpheus' shoulders droop when he realizes he missed the chance, rocking on his feet for a moment before he reaches into his apron again. He finds his own matchbox, approaching her and clearing his throat. "Excuse me?" He holds it out, a nervous smile on his lips. "Have this.. in case your flame goes out."
Eurydice’s eyes snapped up, her breath catching in her throat. A feeling washed over her, the strangest sensation. She knew him. She knew him. And yet, she couldn’t think of his name, or place his face, really. She reached forward, careful to touch only a single match that she lifted out of the box. Surely he didn’t want her to take the whole thing… did he? “Thanks,” she told him with a single nod. She couldn’t help the words that left her next, her eyes narrowed slightly in concentration as she studied his face.
“Do we know each other?”
Orpheus nodded, clearly oblivious to her inner turmoil as he kept smiling, the simple action of placing the matchbox on the table more than enough to show that yes, he absolutely did want her to take the whole thing. "Of course!" His voice was light, airy, almost melodic in the way that his words often were. At her question, his head tilted, confusion crossing over his expression as he quietly shook his head. "I don't believe so..? I'm certain I would remember someone like you." Although, even as he spoke, he became aware of his own feelings towards the situation.. That she was someone he had known before, despite never knowing her at all.
❛ i knew you before we met, and i didn’t even know you yet. ❜ - @waitforme-imcoming // you did this. YOUUUUU DID THIS/SILLY
who are you?
"Oh- Uh- I'm Orpheus!" Fumbling with the newspaper flower in his hands, he thrusts it forward. "And you are..?"
“Eurydice.” She inspects the flower, unimpressed. “Is there a reason you’re still staring at me?”
He's definitely starting to sweat now. "Your name is like a melody." Orpheus blurts, before smiling, "You're beautiful, has.. anyone ever told you that?"
“A singer. Is that what you are?” Eurydice’s gaze was unrelenting, watching him like a hawk. “I’ve been told that before, yeah. It’s something men seem to notice a lot. Have you got anything other than any compliments? I’m just wondering.” She wondered if he thought she was that easy — if he thought he could present a paper flower and some sweet words and she’d fall into his arms like a girl who didn’t know any better. She wouldn’t — she couldn’t.
Orpheus' head bobs in an eager nod, his hand motioning to wherever he left his lyre last as his eyes shined. "I also play the lyre!" Undeterred by the wariness in her gaze, or the disdain in her words, his smile twitched into something more awkward, more bashful, as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I usually sing.. but if you're not the music type, I do poems as well!" He didn't realize how strongly he was coming on, the eagerness for a connection with her blinding him to how strange he must've seemed to approach a stranger in this sort of manner.
To know how it ends, and still begin to sing it again, as if it might turn out this time...
last week in the underground for JACK WOLFE & MORGAN DUDLEY as ORPHEUS & EURYDICE - HADESTOWN
// wolfeus recommended to me on youtube ok. leave me ALONE
Wait for Me (Reprise): what’s the most romantic thing your muse has ever done?
// ty for the ask !! poor boy orpheus? the most romantic thing he has ever done is going down to the underworld, of course! but if i want to say a romantic spectacle besides that, he definitely would write songs and poems all dedicated to his lover, and perform them for anyone who can stomach listening to him for that long..
When the Chips Are Down: what’s the hardest decision your muse has ever had to make?
// ty for the ask !! this one is no shock to anyone, but it would be turning around. he knew in the back of his mind how treacherous it would be, the possibility that he is the one to send his own lover to her downfall.. but who was he to believe he could've gotten her out safely anyway? what would they have faced if he did? orpheus is not the same dreamer by the end of the show, and while turning in the moment seemed easy to him, it wasn't. he knew what it could lead to, and still did it anyway. and that is what will always haunt him.
Epic I: what’s your muse’s favorite season?
// ty for the ask !! in terms of orpheus' favorite season, it's.. complicated. pre-show it definitely would be spring, even if he's never experienced it properly the dream of it coming back pushes him forward, so it's tied very heavily to his hopes! post-show.. it's winter. warmth serves as nothing but a reminder of what he has lost, and the sheer mention of persephone or any of the other gods makes him sick to his stomach. he would much rather freeze and not feel his fingers than be forced to face warmth without his lover at his side.
❛ i knew you before we met, and i didn’t even know you yet. ❜ - @waitforme-imcoming // you did this. YOUUUUU DID THIS/SILLY
who are you?
"Oh- Uh- I'm Orpheus!" Fumbling with the newspaper flower in his hands, he thrusts it forward. "And you are..?"
“Eurydice.” She inspects the flower, unimpressed. “Is there a reason you’re still staring at me?”
He's definitely starting to sweat now. "Your name is like a melody." Orpheus blurts, before smiling, "You're beautiful, has.. anyone ever told you that?"
Anybody got a match?
Orpheus is fumbling and reaching into his apron. He is taking way too long to find a match. He will still keep trying anyway.
Eurydice finds a match and lights her candle, shielding the flame with her hand. Only once it’s secure does she lower her fingers, glancing up at a boy in an apron for a split second before turning to watch the rest of the people in the station.
Orpheus' shoulders droop when he realizes he missed the chance, rocking on his feet for a moment before he reaches into his apron again. He finds his own matchbox, approaching her and clearing his throat. "Excuse me?" He holds it out, a nervous smile on his lips. "Have this.. in case your flame goes out."
❛ i knew you before we met, and i didn’t even know you yet. ❜ - @waitforme-imcoming // you did this. YOUUUUU DID THIS/SILLY
who are you?
"Oh- Uh- I'm Orpheus!" Fumbling with the newspaper flower in his hands, he thrusts it forward. "And you are..?"
