Erato announces that instead of *inspiring* lyric poetry about the apocalypse, she's going to write some herself. She's matchless at inspiring poetry, but kind of sucks at writing it, so she ends up with limericks and at one point tries to rhyme 'blister' and 'fester'. So that leaves three of them (all vowing not to attempt to write anything personally).
Strangely enough, it's Polyhymnia's idea. Gods letting people down does tend to make her depressed and sometimes rather erratic ("The purpose of my *existence* is songs of faith and praise, I'd *like* to feel as if I'm not *lying* to people"), but it's still a surprise. Understanding the metaphysical basis of the birth and regeneration of gods is one thing, testing it is something else, even on an easy (relatively) candidate. It wasn't too hard to talk the twins into it. Calliope wouldn't let either of them follow her, not that Thalia especially wanted to, and everyday drama lacks a certain intensity.
Besides. They're always up for a good story.
###
The first thing Gabriel is aware of is that he remembers everything, and all of him is... present. Not intact, exactly, but present. Recoverable.
The first exterior thing he's aware of is the somewhat muffled sound of Italian opera. Wincing from that, he realizes that *everything hurts*, and he's sitting up, propped against something.
He opens his eyes, and realizes he's propped against an altar. Sort of. A plywood altar, wedged in between a stack of chairs and a metal cabinet marked KNICKKNACKS. Ah. Prop room. That partially explains the opera.
Then, finally, he notices he's not alone. Only a few feet away is a settee with blue satin tasseled pillows and two pretty blonde girls -- twins. They're wearing blue dresses cut identically, but different colors, one darker than the settee cushions, one lighter. They're watching him with eyes that match their dresses, and they're holding hands.
Gabriel recognizes the one in the lighter dress, with the lighter eyes (she likes tricksters, would sometimes follow him around and laugh at all his jokes), so he knows them both.
He'd ask what's going on, but -- that's not what he does. Instead, he says, "This must be your sister. Should I guess which one?"
"The one who got *very* interested in you when you turned out to have run away from your tragically angsty family and then tragically got killed by your brother right after choosing a side," Thalia says, straight-faced. "And there may have been tragic love. Was that *strictly* necessary?"
"The sister who you traumatized with your dual identity has probably cleared the hemisphere by now," Melpomene puts in. She raises her free hand. "Glorious messenger..."
"Poor Polly. Couldn't quite turn her back on a herald angel, though." She half-shrugs, almost shyly. "Any more than we could."
Oh, for... "So you're telling me I'm now a tragicomedy?" Gabriel asks.
"A tragicomedy with religious themes," Thalia corrects with a smirk. "Though not enough to keep Polyhymnia here."
"And a good thing, too. It took all three of us to draw you back, even with all the roots intact."
"If he hadn't gone all tragic, he wouldn't have needed to be grown back." Elbow, eye-roll, shoulder-bump, hair-toss, and the sisterly dispute is shelved for the moment.
Gabriel wants to ask why they did this. Thalia likes him and his tricks, sure, and the disastrous turn his life has taken would certainly attract Melpomene like a fly to honey, but -- the muses don't do this. They mostly don't do anything. They watch people do things. They talk about people doing things. They inspire people to create things, but usually not anything substantial. This? "I didn't know you were into resurrection."
"We're *not*. You're... we..." Thalia waves a hand wildly. "*I* don't know. Uh..."
Melpomene rolls her eyes. "As soon as you had the basics, you accessed the infrastructure of your annoying--"
"--And tragic--"
"--Family, to renew yourself. We just regrew the trickster part of you -- the god part, that grows back -- so you had somewhere to stand to do it."
That... works, actually. He thinks. "Regrow. So that makes you... fertilizer?"
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Re: Tragicomedy
Date: 2010-04-24 09:44 pm (UTC)Erato announces that instead of *inspiring* lyric poetry about the apocalypse, she's going to write some herself. She's matchless at inspiring poetry, but kind of sucks at writing it, so she ends up with limericks and at one point tries to rhyme 'blister' and 'fester'. So that leaves three of them (all vowing not to attempt to write anything personally).
Strangely enough, it's Polyhymnia's idea. Gods letting people down does tend to make her depressed and sometimes rather erratic ("The purpose of my *existence* is songs of faith and praise, I'd *like* to feel as if I'm not *lying* to people"), but it's still a surprise. Understanding the metaphysical basis of the birth and regeneration of gods is one thing, testing it is something else, even on an easy (relatively) candidate. It wasn't too hard to talk the twins into it. Calliope wouldn't let either of them follow her, not that Thalia especially wanted to, and everyday drama lacks a certain intensity.
Besides. They're always up for a good story.
###
The first thing Gabriel is aware of is that he remembers everything, and all of him is... present. Not intact, exactly, but present. Recoverable.
The first exterior thing he's aware of is the somewhat muffled sound of Italian opera. Wincing from that, he realizes that *everything hurts*, and he's sitting up, propped against something.
He opens his eyes, and realizes he's propped against an altar. Sort of. A plywood altar, wedged in between a stack of chairs and a metal cabinet marked KNICKKNACKS. Ah. Prop room. That partially explains the opera.
Then, finally, he notices he's not alone. Only a few feet away is a settee with blue satin tasseled pillows and two pretty blonde girls -- twins. They're wearing blue dresses cut identically, but different colors, one darker than the settee cushions, one lighter. They're watching him with eyes that match their dresses, and they're holding hands.
Gabriel recognizes the one in the lighter dress, with the lighter eyes (she likes tricksters, would sometimes follow him around and laugh at all his jokes), so he knows them both.
He'd ask what's going on, but -- that's not what he does. Instead, he says, "This must be your sister. Should I guess which one?"
"The one who got *very* interested in you when you turned out to have run away from your tragically angsty family and then tragically got killed by your brother right after choosing a side," Thalia says, straight-faced. "And there may have been tragic love. Was that *strictly* necessary?"
"The sister who you traumatized with your dual identity has probably cleared the hemisphere by now," Melpomene puts in. She raises her free hand. "Glorious messenger..."
"...And Loki," Thalia finishes. "Cognitive dissonance."
"Poor Polly. Couldn't quite turn her back on a herald angel, though." She half-shrugs, almost shyly. "Any more than we could."
Oh, for... "So you're telling me I'm now a tragicomedy?" Gabriel asks.
"A tragicomedy with religious themes," Thalia corrects with a smirk. "Though not enough to keep Polyhymnia here."
"And a good thing, too. It took all three of us to draw you back, even with all the roots intact."
"If he hadn't gone all tragic, he wouldn't have needed to be grown back." Elbow, eye-roll, shoulder-bump, hair-toss, and the sisterly dispute is shelved for the moment.
Gabriel wants to ask why they did this. Thalia likes him and his tricks, sure, and the disastrous turn his life has taken would certainly attract Melpomene like a fly to honey, but -- the muses don't do this. They mostly don't do anything. They watch people do things. They talk about people doing things. They inspire people to create things, but usually not anything substantial. This? "I didn't know you were into resurrection."
"We're *not*. You're... we..." Thalia waves a hand wildly. "*I* don't know. Uh..."
Melpomene rolls her eyes. "As soon as you had the basics, you accessed the infrastructure of your annoying--"
"--And tragic--"
"--Family, to renew yourself. We just regrew the trickster part of you -- the god part, that grows back -- so you had somewhere to stand to do it."
That... works, actually. He thinks. "Regrow. So that makes you... fertilizer?"
Continued...