Apollo was grateful to return home-- after what seemed like hundreds of promises to return and thank yous to Larsa, he was left alone, swearing up and down Olympus to the Emperor that he would not be long unattended
( ... )
He saw Apollo the moment he materialized in Hawaii- he was seated on the couch before him, dressed in mismatched clothes.
Somewhat hesitantly, he reached forward, taking a seat beside Apollo and placing his fingers over the former god's. "It's been some days," he said quietly, still a little mad at Apollo. But the time apart had cooled his hurt temper somewhat, and if anything, he was still worried.
Apollo didn't see him arrive, of course-- but he heard him, heard the slight, soft sound of his breath and the sound of his clothes rustling as Hyacinthus moved toward him.
He'd missed this boy, his eromenos, terribly and immediately leaned into the warmth beside him. They were due for a grave journey with disastrous consequences, but Apollo couldn't help but smile as he squeezed the hand covering his.
"It has," he replied in the same quiet tone and leaned in, lips brushing his cheek in a slightly misplaced kiss. "Forgive me."
The kiss undid him- he smiled, even though it was just a small quirk of the lips, and he wrapped his arms around Apollo, missing the warmth that used to be him.
"You're forgiven," he whispered, settling back and placing a hand on his face. Then, pausing a bit as he wondered how exactly this would all turn out, he asked, reluctantly, "What... What made you decide to speak to the Titans? And how will they help?"
Apollo had to admit even to himself that it had been a brilliant plan-- although he and Hyacinthus both were dismayed at the amount of tourists at Lake Avernus, it didn't deter them in the least-- in fact, they simply joined the tour without attracting any notice at all.
They filed, one by one, through the cave entrance-- and they filed, one by one, out-- that is, all but two. The blind God and his eromenos had lingered until the last of the camera-laden tourists had snapped their last shot and left and quietly turned down a corridor unseen by mortal eyes. Hyacinthus led Apollo, down and down, until the stench of sulfur was almost too much to bear.
The tourists had made him jittery- would any one of them spot them making their way down? To a place that was not supposed to exist. But they left at last, and not one of them took notice of the odd couple in the caves.
He'd been here once- Zephyrus had grudgingly led him through the same path to Tartarus, where Apollo had been at the time. Then, the North Wind had chased the smell of the sulfur away, kept him safe. It was different now. He couldn't do the same for Apollo. His hold on his erastes' hand tightened.
((Sorry I took so long! ;3; /totally bogged down by school work))
Apollo's breathing grew ragged as they descended further and further; he leaned more heavily on Hyacinthus now, his steps growing heavy with every footfall closer to where Charon waited
( ... )
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Somewhat hesitantly, he reached forward, taking a seat beside Apollo and placing his fingers over the former god's. "It's been some days," he said quietly, still a little mad at Apollo. But the time apart had cooled his hurt temper somewhat, and if anything, he was still worried.
Reply
He'd missed this boy, his eromenos, terribly and immediately leaned into the warmth beside him. They were due for a grave journey with disastrous consequences, but Apollo couldn't help but smile as he squeezed the hand covering his.
"It has," he replied in the same quiet tone and leaned in, lips brushing his cheek in a slightly misplaced kiss. "Forgive me."
Reply
"You're forgiven," he whispered, settling back and placing a hand on his face. Then, pausing a bit as he wondered how exactly this would all turn out, he asked, reluctantly, "What... What made you decide to speak to the Titans? And how will they help?"
Reply
They filed, one by one, through the cave entrance-- and they filed, one by one, out-- that is, all but two. The blind God and his eromenos had lingered until the last of the camera-laden tourists had snapped their last shot and left and quietly turned down a corridor unseen by mortal eyes. Hyacinthus led Apollo, down and down, until the stench of sulfur was almost too much to bear.
They were getting close.
Reply
He'd been here once- Zephyrus had grudgingly led him through the same path to Tartarus, where Apollo had been at the time. Then, the North Wind had chased the smell of the sulfur away, kept him safe. It was different now. He couldn't do the same for Apollo. His hold on his erastes' hand tightened.
((Sorry I took so long! ;3; /totally bogged down by school work))
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