Chapter Text
“You’re here.”
…
“I am.”
…
“Orpheus…”
The wind rustled in the girl’s hair; black strands flew behind her as she huddled beneath her coat. Flakes of powdery snow fell around her into piles — frozen, preserved. The road was just visible for the girl to see where she was going. As she walked, she felt her legs grow weak from the cold, which pierced her coat and froze her knees. The girl fell to her knees on the dirt in front of her. Her eyes closed tightly as she breathed sharply.
“Do you think she’ll make it?” a voice asked.
“Who’s to say?” another responded, “It seems to me she’s walked for hours with no sign of a town.”
“Poor girl.” a third said. The voice was as cold as the weather with no sense of care in it; absolute apathy.
The girl took a deep breath before opening her eyes and looking in the white, foggy distance; there shined a warm orange hue, reflecting off the nearby snow. The girl hastened herself the best she could, walking quickly to the haven. The setting sun shone behind her as her footsteps crunched and crunched down the path. The girl looked for a moment at the railroad next to — strangely vacant for the time of day — before focusing back in front of her to the far-off glow, growing closer each step she took. After a time far too long for her comfort, the girl stood before a pub. She took one last breath of the outside air and rushed inside.
“Welcome in!” a warm voice called from the bar. The girl turned to look at the man; he was short, thin, and had a long mustache which curled at the ends.
“You can hang your coat in the foyer.”
The girl looked the man as to question his intelligence and continued over to the bar. The room around her shined orange with incandescent lights as soft talking could be heard around. A sense of comfort could be felt, but the girl was never free from outside uncertainty. She could never rest; the world was still as it was regardless of where she was.
“You got any food?” she asked, placing her hands on the counter.
“Yup; we got some fish, gyros, shepherd’s pie, chips, bread — take your pick.” the man said, smiling.
“How much is the shepherd’s pie?”
“Ten”
“That’s a lot nowadays, you know?” the girl said, crossing her arms.
“We gotta stay open somehow.” the man shrugged.
“I’ll take one.” the girl placed two notes on counter.
“Alright, one pie coming right up.” the man said as turned to prepare it. “Feel free to take a seat.”
The girl took off her long, black coat and walked steadily to a seat she found herself at the bar seated next to a tall, skinny boy with short, brown hair. Beside the boy lay a brown lute, in good, sturdy condition. There was a wonder in the boy’s eyes, twinkling faintly with naivety the girl had long lost. He turned to face her, and there was something horribly familiar in him to the girl, like they had met once before.
“Hi.” he said, “who are you?”
“Uh, I’m just someone traveling through here.” The girl paused for a moment. “Do you want me to move or…”
“No! You’re– you’re fine here.” An awkward silence surrounded the two of them. They both looked uncomfortably away from each other with tension thick as mead.
“So, do you have a name?” the boy asked, causing the girl to jump slightly in her seat.
Despite her better instincts, the girl responded. “I’m Eurydice. And you?”
“Orpheus.”
“Orpheus?” Eurydice asked, “don’t think I’ve met one of those before.”
“I’m not sure about a Eurydice either.” Orpheus responded. “So, where are you from?”
“Hard to say;” she said, leaning her arm against the counter. “I’ve been moving around for awhile — I haven’t really had one place to call home. It seems wherever I go, disaster follows.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be here then.” Orpheus said flatly.
“Excuse me?” Eurydice asked, her brow furrowed and head perked.
“I’m sorry, that came out wrong.” He said apologetically, “I didn’t mean to be rude or anything, if I was rude I’m really sorry, I just tried to–”
“Orpheus.” Eurydice interrupted, grinning, “It’s fine.” Orpheus softened to this and rolled his shoulders forward. “You really gotta work on your delivery, man.” Eurydice said.
“Your pie, ma'am.” The bartender said, placing the plate toward Eurydice.
“Thank you.” she said, taking the plate and the fork on it.
“Excuse me, sir!” Orpheus said, “Can I get a cup of wine?” He paused for moment. “Actually, make it three.”
“Three?” Eurydice questioned, at him with her eyes. “You really that desperate to escape?”
“No, I… you’ll see what they’re for.”
Eurydice began to eat her pie, which entered her empty stomach like a grand savior for her hunger. She could hardly savor the taste; any food was enough for her. As she ate, she could feel Orpheus’ eyes on her. She couldn’t quite figure him out; he acted strangely, yet it didn’t seem ingenious. Eurydice knew how to read people, yet Orpheus was a mystery. He nagged at her thoughts as she ate as worries of the cold dissipated into questions of Orpheus.
The bartender walked over to the two again. “Your wines, sir.” He said, placing them in front of the boy. Orpheus pushed one glass toward Eurydice.
“This is for you.” He said, his head cocked slightly to the side.
“Orpheus,” she said, “you didn’t have to–”
“I know, I just felt it was important I did.” He said with a smile.
Eurydice took the glass and looked back over to the third cup. “So, what’s that one for?”
“Zeus.” Orpheus said, “Do you want to make an offering with me?”
Eurydice thought for a second. “I don’t supposed why not.”
“Follow me then.”
Eurydice walked once more to bitter cold, coat draped across her shoulders as Orpheus followed her.
“Well, let’s start this then.” Eurydice said.
“Alright.” Orpheus raised his cup along with his other hand. Eurydice followed in suit, turning her face to the sky.
“Great King Zeus,” he began to say, “father of Calliope, my dear grandfather…”
“Your… what?” Eurydice asked.
“I give you now this offering of wine and ask in return for you to clean the skies of clouds and let the sun shine on us once more as we bathe in his warmth.” He said and tipped the glass, spilling the purple liquid, staining the snow in which it landed. “May this be found kindly upon you.”
Orpheus looked toward Eurydice who looked to him in disbelief.
“You’re… Zeus’ grandson?" She asked.
“Well, yeah…” he said, “my mother is Calliope.” Orpheus paused for a moment before saying, “I think it’s best we go inside, it’s far too cold out.”
The two walked once more into the warm, orange glow of the pub as walked to their chairs, shivering. The two sat and faced each other with uncertain glances.
“So,” Eurydice said, “being the son of a Muse, do you happen to doing anything with art?”
“I’m working on a song.” Orpheus said as he began to drift off somewhere far away from the world he was in now. “When I finish it, all the world will be aligned and Spring will come again!”
“Pardon?” Eurydice asked.
“I’m making a song to fix what’s wrong with the weather and the rest of it all.” Orpheus said.
“Well, why don’t you play it?” Eurydice asked, slight concern filled her face as she looked at the boy.
“I haven’t finished it.” he said.
“Come on,” Eurydice said, “you can’t catch me with that hook and bail out on me.”
Orpheus sighed and said, “alright.”
He grabbed his lute, hand shaking on the neck and began to tune it before pausing and breathing deeply: in and out. He opened his eyes and played his first chord, striking the interest of some pub patrons around him. He tried to block them out and continue. As he played, the music sent a wave of emotion through the room: melancholy, joy, relief, regret, and awe. When he began to sing, his voice carried across the building bringing raw, unfiltered feeling with it. Eurydice felt a tear fall from her eye and run cautiously across her cheek. She wiped it away and stared in wonder at Orpheus who looked back with kind eyes and parted lips. Eurydice looked away as she felt the Earth around her was shake, and as the crescendo built, notes changing the environment as they moved, it stopped. Eurydice looked up to see Orpheus holding a single red carnation, staring at it in amazement.
“I…” he said, turning to face Eurydice once more “that’s all I have for now.”
“Orpheus…” she said, “that’s wonderful! How did you write that? It’s beautiful.”
“I don’t know, but I have to finish it– to fix what’s wrong.”
Eurydice grabbed her glass. “How’s about a cheers?” Orpheus grabbed his and raised it up. “To sunshine” Eurydice said.
“To Spring” said Orpheus. The two glasses clinked together and they drank up the wine.
The two continued to talk as Eurydice ate and drank. She felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time: comfort. And as her food went gone and cup ran dry, she asked the boy:
“Do you know of any good inns here?”
“I live alone.” Orpheus suggested, “There’s plenty of room in my flat.”
Eurydice smiled. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d prefer my own bed tonight.”
“There’s an inn upstairs.” Orpheus said, “There should be a greeter around that corner.” Orpheus pointed to sharp corner, presumably leading to the inn services.
“Alright, thank you,” Eurydice said, “I think I’ll head in for the night, it’s already past 11.” She began to stand and gather coat. “Seeya around, Orpheus.”
“Seeya, Eurydice.” He said as she walked away.
When Orpheus left the pub, it was less windy than before. He walked through the snow covered path to his home, shivering the whole time. Each crunch of snow reminded him he was one step closer to warmth; Orpheus never did well in the Winter — the cold was too much for the boy. Dim moonlight, miraculously escaping the clouds, shined the path he walked as, glistening off crystals of ice around him. After far too long a walk, Orpheus arrived at the building.
He wiped his feet off from the snow and walked at once to the stairs, eventually arriving at his door: unit 3. He walked into his room and immediately got prepared for sleep. As he prepared his bed, his felt a sudden presence in his room. He turned around to find a figure behind him.
“Hermes?” He asked.
“It is I.” The figure responded, “I heard your song earlier today. Where did you get that melody?”
“I don’t know, it just sort of came to me.” Orpheus responded.
“I’ve heard that song before.” Hermes said, facing toward Orpheus. “It’s an old tune, of love once strong. It is the song of Hades and Persephone.”
“Their love…” said Orpheus, “this song is of their love?”
“Yes,” said Hermes, “and I’d advise you work on it more. Their love is what makes the world spin and seasons change. If you want to fix the Earth, you best start with them.”
“But how do I get them to hear it?” Orpheus asked.
“That is for you to figure out.” Hermes said, and just as quickly as he appeared, he was gone once more.
Orpheus walked to his improvised study and reached into hi coat he taking out a carnation. He stared at it for moment, observing its strong red hue which which looked like gloss in the moonlight streaming in from him window. He smiled softly and reached up toward a nearby shelf, placing the flower in a jar with three others — all fresh and vivid. He walked out of the area and briefly turned once more to the flowers.
“If I can do make those,” he thought, “surely I can do more.”