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Re: FILL: Endure Me, Do Not Ask For Tidings 2/2sanguineheroineJune 13 2014, 15:38:52 UTC
Mycroft was alone when John arrived and presumably unwatched. John presumed felt free to presume so at the sight of Mycroft leaning quietly against a pillar, shirtless and unglamoured. He was combing his fingers thoughtfully through golden pinion feathers, shaking loose smoking curls of warm air.
He looked up as John approached and straightened his shoulders, wings shuffling back in an unconscious military posture.
“Still the soldier, Boreas?”
Mycroft smiled “I graduated to king some hundred-odd years ago. In rank, if not in title”.
“Sherlock seems to think that you are more like to become a queen” John moved easily around the obviously placed chair and took up parade rest at two generous paces from Mycroft’s bare chest.
“Well” drawled Mycroft thoughtfully “I suppose they do call it ‘Greek style’, don’t they? I do wish someone would enlighten that lovely creature in the car as to her cultural inheritance” he sighed wistfully, then straightened his brows and looked straight at John without a trace of levity.
“You were there when Xerxes sailed into harbour, were you not?”
“I was” John confirmed, not shifting his gaze from Mycroft’s.
“Four hundred ships I sank that day. Forty thousand men.” He paused, leaning forward to bring his face to John’s “How many days do you suppose there have been since that one, dearest Neptune?”
“Enough, I would imagine” replied John, already turning to leave “that you would have found the time to look at a map and discover just exactly how much of this world is covered by my oceans.” He paused at the car, turning back for a moment to look at Mycroft over his shoulder.
“What exactly was the point of this little intrigue, Boreas?”
Mycroft blanched a moment at the sound of his name but recovered just as quickly. “Sherlock is my brother and I-“ John cut him off, eyes blazing.
“Eurus has belonged to me since first he heard my voice!” His eyes darkened and his voice echoed eerily back from the gloom “He is my wild rapture, my idolater and my idol. I am the calm at the heart of his storm. Ever shall he return to me and I to him until the last night falls on Earth and Cronus comes to claim us.”
Neptune breathes deeply and when he exhales again he is John; flushed and panting but no less resolved. He climbed into the car and knocked firmly on the driver’s screen, pointedly ignoring the Maenad’s hungrily admiring gaze. “I’m flattered, really, but before I get off with someone I like to be fairly sure I’ll come out of it with all of my internal organs.”
She hisses out what might be a laugh, showing a mouthful of sharp white teeth. “Do you fear me, immortal one?” John snorts.
“I might be immortal but that does not mean I want to go digging around in your kitchen for my own pancreas. I’ve had quite enough of that for one millennia, thank you. Now” he says forcefully “back to Baker Street please.”
***
“Zeus was envious of our power” Mycroft said simply as he sipped his whisky “so he locked us away.”
Jim smirked and shrugged as well as one can when one is in full-body restraints “It’s more likely that he was just a little put out about you knocking up his priestesses. You know how jealous he gets.”
“Hmm…yes” Mycroft allowed with a smile “I had almost forgotten about that. Such beauties they were too. The fillies were the most perfect shades of cream and gold, like a winter sunrise. Mummy was so pleased.”
Jim’s face crumpled into a frown “I can’t hear her sing in here, big brother. Not a peep in months” he fretted, slumping back against the soft cell wall “nor a breath of wind, nor the song of the sea.”
“I am sorry, Notus” Mycroft said softly, his carefully cultured tones sharp around the old name “but the storms were…You cannot control yourself, and I cannot always be here to clean up after you. I wish-“
“He won’t come for me now, Boreas. He won’t ever sing me to sleep again.” Jim was curled in on himself and the words were barely more than breath but Mycroft heard the musical cadence of their native tongue in his words.
“No” he said sadly as he rapped on the window “I don’t suppose he will.”
Re: FILL: Endure Me, Do Not Ask For Tidings - CodasanguineheroineJune 13 2014, 15:39:30 UTC
***
Sherlock goes back to the roof of Bart's sometimes. When the morning air is damp and cool and the Eastern sky is ruddy he likes to tip his face to the sky and wait for the West wind. Zephyrus is lost now, but the warm breeze smells like home.
Here, just before the light touches his skin, he can remember the feel of warm wind at his wing tips, warm raindrops in his mane and the sweet sound of his mother's caroling as she summoned her brother to the sky.
London's dawn carol is just growling engines and trains shrieking on their steel rails but he nevertheless bows politely to Helios as he ascends - twenty-five hundred odd years is no reason to disregard one's familial obligations - before walking slowly back down the stairs and back to Baker Street. When dawn broke on the morning after they returned from Dartmoor, John had already awakened and the steady thump of his heart was summoning Sherlock home. Perhaps, he thought, he would take John to the seaside today.
He looked up as John approached and straightened his shoulders, wings shuffling back in an unconscious military posture.
“Still the soldier, Boreas?”
Mycroft smiled “I graduated to king some hundred-odd years ago. In rank, if not in title”.
“Sherlock seems to think that you are more like to become a queen” John moved easily around the obviously placed chair and took up parade rest at two generous paces from Mycroft’s bare chest.
“Well” drawled Mycroft thoughtfully “I suppose they do call it ‘Greek style’, don’t they? I do wish someone would enlighten that lovely creature in the car as to her cultural inheritance” he sighed wistfully, then straightened his brows and looked straight at John without a trace of levity.
“You were there when Xerxes sailed into harbour, were you not?”
“I was” John confirmed, not shifting his gaze from Mycroft’s.
“Four hundred ships I sank that day. Forty thousand men.” He paused, leaning forward to bring his face to John’s “How many days do you suppose there have been since that one, dearest Neptune?”
“Enough, I would imagine” replied John, already turning to leave “that you would have found the time to look at a map and discover just exactly how much of this world is covered by my oceans.” He paused at the car, turning back for a moment to look at Mycroft over his shoulder.
“What exactly was the point of this little intrigue, Boreas?”
Mycroft blanched a moment at the sound of his name but recovered just as quickly. “Sherlock is my brother and I-“ John cut him off, eyes blazing.
“Eurus has belonged to me since first he heard my voice!” His eyes darkened and his voice echoed eerily back from the gloom “He is my wild rapture, my idolater and my idol. I am the calm at the heart of his storm. Ever shall he return to me and I to him until the last night falls on Earth and Cronus comes to claim us.”
Neptune breathes deeply and when he exhales again he is John; flushed and panting but no less resolved. He climbed into the car and knocked firmly on the driver’s screen, pointedly ignoring the Maenad’s hungrily admiring gaze. “I’m flattered, really, but before I get off with someone I like to be fairly sure I’ll come out of it with all of my internal organs.”
She hisses out what might be a laugh, showing a mouthful of sharp white teeth. “Do you fear me, immortal one?” John snorts.
“I might be immortal but that does not mean I want to go digging around in your kitchen for my own pancreas. I’ve had quite enough of that for one millennia, thank you. Now” he says forcefully “back to Baker Street please.”
***
“Zeus was envious of our power” Mycroft said simply as he sipped his whisky “so he locked us away.”
Jim smirked and shrugged as well as one can when one is in full-body restraints “It’s more likely that he was just a little put out about you knocking up his priestesses. You know how jealous he gets.”
“Hmm…yes” Mycroft allowed with a smile “I had almost forgotten about that. Such beauties they were too. The fillies were the most perfect shades of cream and gold, like a winter sunrise. Mummy was so pleased.”
Jim’s face crumpled into a frown “I can’t hear her sing in here, big brother. Not a peep in months” he fretted, slumping back against the soft cell wall “nor a breath of wind, nor the song of the sea.”
“I am sorry, Notus” Mycroft said softly, his carefully cultured tones sharp around the old name “but the storms were…You cannot control yourself, and I cannot always be here to clean up after you. I wish-“
“He won’t come for me now, Boreas. He won’t ever sing me to sleep again.” Jim was curled in on himself and the words were barely more than breath but Mycroft heard the musical cadence of their native tongue in his words.
“No” he said sadly as he rapped on the window “I don’t suppose he will.”
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Sherlock goes back to the roof of Bart's sometimes. When the morning air is damp and cool and the Eastern sky is ruddy he likes to tip his face to the sky and wait for the West wind. Zephyrus is lost now, but the warm breeze smells like home.
Here, just before the light touches his skin, he can remember the feel of warm wind at his wing tips, warm raindrops in his mane and the sweet sound of his mother's caroling as she summoned her brother to the sky.
London's dawn carol is just growling engines and trains shrieking on their steel rails but he nevertheless bows politely to Helios as he ascends - twenty-five hundred odd years is no reason to disregard one's familial obligations - before walking slowly back down the stairs and back to Baker Street.
When dawn broke on the morning after they returned from Dartmoor, John had already awakened and the steady thump of his heart was summoning Sherlock home. Perhaps, he thought, he would take John to the seaside today.
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