(Untitled)

[apollinares]

There is dust on his face, in his eyes, in his hair, on his clothing.

(He's spent the past months roaming.
I will remember and not be unmindful of Apollo who shoots afar.No destination in mind, no end in sight.
As he goes through the house of Zeus, the gods tremble before him and all spring up from their seats when he draws near, as he bends his

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[tragic_mask]

Melpomene's down by the lake, not really doing anything. Just staring down, as she often does.

Behind her, she sees the reflection of someone she knows, and turns.

(She'd never known him as well as the others. Still, he's a familiar face.)

[apollinares]

Tragedy in general was something he'd never grown to like (possibly because he had had enough of it already), but it wasn't something he faulted Melpomene for.

He stops a short ways away, gangling limbs recollecting themselves into a whole.

"Kalispera, Melpomene."

[tragic_mask]

"Hello," she says, simply.

"It's been a while."

[apollinares]

"Has it?"

It's not sarcasm that causes him to respond so quickly.

"I suppose so. I feel like it's been a while since I've seen anyone."

[tragic_mask]

There's a good dose of irony in her voice as she scans his dusty face.

"Yes, certainly looks like it."

[apollinares]

He reaches up to brush his cheek with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of dust.

A little sheepishly: "Haven't gotten the chance to clean up yet."

[tragic_mask]

"Where have you collected all that dust, exactly?"

[apollinares]

"Many places," he says.

"Any place that there is dust to be collected."

[tragic_mask]

"You'd have to stay there for a while, to collect all that," she says, flicking a speck of dust from the cloth on his arm.