Frustrations or Furies?

[saveyourpoison]

It wasn't working. Orpheus was frustrated beyond belief and a temper some would have called Mediterranean was rising in him and his only restraint was his fear of breaking the lyre, his most priced possession

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[hiseromenos]

I had never heard anyone on the island scream like that. It jarred me from my own sorrow-filled thoughts. "Are you all right?"

[saveyourpoison]

Bagoas. The sight of one of the few men who would understand that curse startled Orpheus a bit - it also made him feel a little guilty.
"Err..yes..." he said, relieved to be able to speak Greek, "mostly. It is simply this place. The state of me. It is getting to me."

[hiseromenos]

I folded onto the ground near him, looking up. One of the oddities of the island was that I would ever call one of the Greeks' gods amongst those I called friend. "What do you mean?"

[saveyourpoison]

"It seems to enjoy tormenting me," he said. "Or the Gods may not be through with me yet. I do not know which it is." Orpheus sat down across from his friend and absentmindedly toyed with the lyre. "It took my Aunt away, then my father before I even could talk to him after years of seperation, and then it gave me the magic powers of music back only to take them away. I cannot make it work any more." And that was what had made him snap. Too much frustration.

[morilthesinger]

Moril falls out of a tree.

Well, not quite falls. He catches himself on a branch, dangling toward the ground, looking petulantly at the screaming person. People ought not go yelling about like that just when someone is above them. It startles you.

He dangles there for a moment, catching his balance. Bugger.

[saveyourpoison]

A boy fell out of a tree right above him and Orpheus jumped. "My gods!" he exclaimed in Greek, then remembered to shift to English before addressing the boy, who, he realised, would have been there the whole time, seeing him play. He blinked up at him. "You okay?" he asked, almost but not quite reaching for him to support him or something if he needed it.

[morilthesinger]

Moril lets out a frustrated sigh and drops to the ground. "Yes, fine. You startled me, that's all, screaming like that. What's the matter?"

[saveyourpoison]

"Sorry..." Orpheus felt a bit sheepish just now, both for startling the boy and for letting anyone see that outburst. "I not know you there." He supposed he owed an explanation since he'd nearly startled this one into falling. "My music," he said, hoping he could find words for this. "Not working. Island..." he sighed in frustration and threw out his arms in a gesture of even more frustration, "I go mad."

[ranger_alone]

Marcus was wandering when he heard the music. It was lovely, and - perhaps unwisely, given the island's sense of humour - Marcus followed it to the source.

Finding the man with the lyre, Marcus broke into a large grin. He couldnt remember ever seeing a lyre in person, but it made him happy to be seeing a little piece of history right in front of him.

"That was beautiful," he said, still smiling "but you seem unhappy with it?"

[saveyourpoison]

A compliment at the strangest of times. Orpheus spun around to face the man. He had a kind face that made Orpheus certain he was sincere, which in turn made him able to at least stop looking as annoyed as he had a moment before.

"Thank you," he said with a nod. "Unhappy yes. Not working. No happen!" He gestured around him, making it apparent that whatever he expected was supposed to come from the surrounding area.

[ranger_alone]

Marcus looked around but there was nothing there other than the surrounding foliage.

"What is supposed to happen?" he asked. It was obvious that the man had some trouble with English, but since Marcus doubted he spoke Mimbari they would have to just work it out.

[saveyourpoison]

"Magic," he said with a deep, regretful sigh. "Animals come, birds sing..." he searched for the next word, "plants grow." He shook his head, his face conveying all the dark feelings he had no words for yet. "Nothing here... Only two day. Not long back."

[a_lowly_player]

Will was wandering when he heard someone curse. It wasn't a usual curse, but rather had a definite Greek feel to it. He turned to the sound and found a young man yelling at absolutely nothing. His Greek was a bit rusty having not used it since his school days, but still he thought he got the gist of it.

"Hello?" he said in very very rusty Greek. God he needed work. What sort of renaissance man was he supposed to be if he couldn't even remember basic lessons in Greek and Latin when called upon. Will frowned and focused harder on the language buried in the back of his mind. "Is everything all right?" he asked, sounding already better than he had in the first place.

[saveyourpoison]

Greek! Orpheus was almost ready to forgive the gods for sending him another person who could speak in an intelligeble way. It was quite cheering, in fact.

"Hello," he said, even managing a faint smile. "I suppose most things are all right, I am simply frustrated at this place. It seems intent on torturing me!" There was a distinct petulant note to his voice.

[a_lowly_player]

If there was anything Will could relate to, it was the trickery of the Island. For once, he was glad that Marlowe was not following him around and offering a running commentary on his life. That had gotten old fast.

"Tell me about it," Will said dryly. First Dream disappeared and then Marlowe showed up and now he was talking like a school boy again. What would the island think of next? "Will Shakespeare, at your service sir," he said, offering the man a low bow in greeting.

[saveyourpoison]

Bowing by way of greating was new, but Orpheus managed some kind of one himself. "My name is Orpheus," he said. "At your service too. I take it you have problems with this place too?"
Sympathy and Greek. Very, very nice indeed.

[sommer_leo]

Leo had been sitting some distance away, brooding a little himself. He had only been speaking when he had to for the last week or so, a little loathe to make friends here, as if doing that meant he was accepting his existence on this island, in this strange place.

He heard the shouting and it startled him out of his funk. He stood carefully, walking toward the noise, edging carefully around the trees until he spotted the source of the yelling, a man standing near a tree trunk, looking like he was in an even worse mood than Leo.

He wasn't sure he wanted to speak, to draw attention to himself, so he just lingered by a tree for a moment, waiting to see what might happen next.

[saveyourpoison]

Orpheus was a bit too caught up in himself to notice the young man at first. Instead he hit one of the tree-trunks and the jab of pain helped him get out of the uncharacteristic burst of anger. Cursing and being angry would do him no good. Perhaps he would have to accept that it was not going to work again. But it felt like uneccesariy cruelty to him.
He focused his thoughts and decided to try and channel his feeling the way he knew best: into the music itself. He sat down on the fallen tree-trunk again and struck up a tune. It was new and it was full of anger and resentment and a deep undercurrent of loss and sorrow.

[sommer_leo]

Leo flinched when the other man punched the tree, taking a step back in case he needed to flee. But a moment later, the man reseated himself and began to play music on an instrument that Leo wasn't really familiar with.

Instead of running away, the music rooted Leo to the spot. As he listened, he felt like the song was calling to the darker places inside him, the loneliness and the frustration at being stuck here, the fears he's carried around his whole life. He started walking toward the man without really realizing it, feet shuffling against the ground.

[saveyourpoison]

The young man walking towards him brought Orpheus to look up, but his fingers kept playing, almost of their own. Subtly the tune started to change without Orpheus even noticing, changing as he saw and started to feel something new. He could see in the eyes of him the very things he was playing and because of that, it changed and a note of sympathy crept into the tune, softening it. And he was a lovely young man too, very good-looking.