Comments | deities_dot_com: this uncertainty is taking me over...

nyx__dot__com in deities_dot_com

this uncertainty is taking me over...

Jan 14, 2006 13:59

What had he done? Why had he done it?

She'd thought everything was fine - or that everything would be fine. He'd touched her so sweetly, so gently - more so than ever before, perhaps. She'd been so afraid, so desperately terrified that he would shut her out forever, before she had the chance to prove that they were stronger than that ( Read more... )

philammon, nyx

Comments 19

philammondotcom January 15 2006, 19:51:11 UTC

Philammon returned to Olympus after having spent another sleepless night singing to Circe as she went through her nightly trials. He had begun to acclimate to functioning without the amount of sleep he'd been taking ( ... )

nyx__dot__com January 15 2006, 20:07:39 UTC

Every single corner of her temple was spotless.

Every rug, beaten clean; every floor, polished to perfection; every glass surface perfectly shining, and every bit of fabric freshly laundered.

The temple smelled like a crisp winter night.

Nyx hadn't bothered to stop crying. She at least ensured that her tears dissipated before they hit the floor. She was on her hands and knees, scrubbing imaginary scuff marks from the black tiled floor of Moros' old bedroom.

Just because you couldn't see them didn't mean they weren't there.

She hadn't quite finished going over the tiles for the fourth time when she heard that voice ( ... )

philammondotcom January 15 2006, 20:35:39 UTC

Philammon had never, never seen Nyx less than beautiful, less than fresh, less than completely in control of her cool, confident self ( ... )

nyx__dot__com January 15 2006, 20:55:45 UTC

Nyx blinked at his reappearance, as though surprised not to be alone again. She looked away from the maddeningly imperfect legs of her jeans as Phil put the glass of wine in her hand, and she offered him a smile of thanks.

How was she doing?

Ah, what a question.

And how to answer?

"Well, I appreciate the thought." she paused. Sharing this burden, this weight in her chest, seemed inconceivable. Just as unimaginable, however, was the thought of never releasing it into the open air.

There was no real need for particulars, if it came to that.

"I'm afraid," she began quietly, "that I've been far better, my friend."

She took a long sip of wine.

Thread 19