dear_mun | (no subject)

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(no subject)

...this is a terrible idea.

I'm used to it here; the darkness doesn't bother me, the silence is now comforting, the chill something I bear without notice. But you! You want to send me back. You want me to follow him into the light and then tear me from him for your own amusement - oh, yes. You call them "games" for good reason, despite your nonchalance. The subject matter shouldn't be taken lightly.

I am not your muse. You should rethink this.

[OOC: content warning - ~~possible~~ sexual situations in thread with golden_lyre]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[As she moves, his attention is rapt. He could not tear his gaze from her if he tried. His song rises to meet her movements, weaving through and around her dance, gaining life as she does.]

[Every note is a platform for her dance to climb, and while her steps lead her in a merry pattern throughout this strange place, they do lead her back to him. She pauses, breathless and flushed with joy, and leans down to capture her beloved's mouth in a kiss.]

[It is this precise moment that he has been waiting for since she appeared and stole his words. The act itself is so joyous, so perfect, that he finds a laugh bubbling up from his lips to hers as his hand leaves the strings of his guitar to touch her shoulder.]

[Laughter is a universal cure, and when he touches her, she feels her skin prickle up in response.] Feel how you bring me to life?

I feel how you bring the life back into me.

[He smiles brightly, leaning his forehead against hers.]

Beloved, I would do so forever. [She bumps his nose with hers.] Lay aside your new lyre and hold me? I have had no touch in so long.

For as long as you wish, my love.

[He grins, his face almost unable to contain the relief he feels at her request. The guitar is laid aside with no little reverence, but as soon as it is safely away, his arms are reaching for her to pull her close to him.]

[His arms are as strong as the boughs of her oak, and it's natural for her to swarm up him the way she would her tree, wrapping arms and legs around him and burying her face in his neck, breathing him in.]

I've been holding you like this in my dreams. I didn't think I would dream, down there, but I do, and they're of you.

[He hums against her hair, arms curled firmly but gently around her, unwilling to let her go even a little.]

I have always known I would dream of you. I never thought to hold you again.

Oh, my beloved. I hope this isn't a dream. I've walked behind you so many times in my head, each time trying to find some way to circumvent Hades' strictures... [She's holding him tight, as unwilling as he to break their embrace.] And I am so sorry that you've lived so long without me.

I...

[His voice breaks for a moment, arms tightening briefly around her.]

I am so sorry, my love.

[Her lips find his skin in a gentle kiss of forgiveness.]

I know, beloved, I know. And I forgive you, because I know that you turned because you love me. I can't say that I would not have done the same were our positions reversed.

I thought...

[He trails off, burying his face in her hair.]

Poets, philosophers, artists...they have had much to say about our love.

Unless you were the poet, they know naught.

[Small fingers slide up into his hair in return, not able to wind into it like she used to, but still holding the soft strands.]

Other than it is a tragedy that I could not live my life with you.

[She's right, isn't she?]

[He turns his face toward her hand, reaching his own up to press it to his cheek.]

For my own part they...rarely made me doubt. For yours... I was never so sure.

[Accepting the repositioning of her hand, she flattens her palm against his cheek.]

How so?

There have been...

[He frowns, eyes closing as he grounds himself in her touch.]

Mortals love our story. They love to tell and retell it, and sometimes they...suggest things. Possibilities.

Mortals do? [Her forehead rests against his temple.] Tell me. It's eating at you, I can sense it.

[His hand strokes slowly over her back.]

There have been many theories. Some of them that you...you didn't want me to rescue you.

...

There is no want, in the Underworld. There is no need, no desire.

There is only quiet. Solitude.

I did not know that a rescue was even possible, so I never thought upon it. But Orpheus, I followed you. Does that mean nothing?

It means everything. But what it means...can be open for interpretation. Perhaps you only went because Hades made you.

I have worried that...you valued that quiet and solitude enough that you would not have wished to come back with me.

[The worst of the poems went further, suggested she had never really loved him, but he can't bring himself to say that.]

I believe you, though. If you tell me you want to be with me...I believe that.

I value my life, but you know as well as I that when the Fates cut your thread... Had I known I could return, I would have fought to do so - but I'm nothing. I'm no one, merely a nymph, and important only to you. I did not think my plight would move Hades when my end was ordained.

But you... You loved me enough to lead me back. I followed you because you are my beloved and we are wedded - how can you think I would want otherwise? Nymphs are free features; we don't give ourselves over with no cause.

I love you. I followed.

[Once again, he relaxed under her touch, though his arms tightened just a little around her.]

Then I will never doubt again.

[Her nose finds his cheek, then her lips, and the kiss is lifted in a smile.]

Did you also decide to never shave again? I'm still unsure what to make of this...

[He smiles as well, leaning his cheek against her forehead for a moment, laughing softly.]

I am more a man than a youth, my love. It was bound to happen eventually.