Sehnsucht
(n)
an intense yearning for something far-off
and indefinable
--
It was bittersweet, the interaction between one and the other, striking a sense of longing inside of Perseus. The sense of comfort and safety they gave to each other, some as obvious as a star in the dark, while others as concealed as the moon in a cold, foggy night. He didn't know why he had stayed for this long. Maybe it was the direct orders from the director himself, or maybe sense of comfort that fascinated him, entranced him, reminded him.
Oh, Perseus could just smell the all too familliar smell of baked goods, could almost taste them, could just hear the ringing voices of joy. He never forgot her dark brown curls and soft smile, nor the deep blue eyes— as deep as the ocean floor filled with warmth and understanding.
He missed her, truly. He regretted every single mistake he had made— mistakes that she took in a stride and a soft, warm smile. She was beautiful, no doubt, and he loved her dearly.
Mom...
The stinging pain of heart ache accompanied the foul yet sweet taste of his memories, memories he cherished dearly. All he wanted was to stop pretending to be a hero, to just drop the mask and tell her that everything is not okay, to just snuggle into her warm embrace and finally break.
He was a glass ball— a glass ball that had already shattered.
All he ever wanted was to make her happy, make her proud, to be like all those heroes she told him about at night, amidst the chaos outside his door, safe and sound from the vile being his mother was forced to marry— all to keep him safe.
...but even heroes need to break...
And he had. His glass ball had finally cracked under the pressure, like what happens to humans at the deepest part of the ocean, crushed and wrecked like a sunken ship.
His mother was the one thing that had always pulled him up, even if not completely, just enough to break the surface and take in the oxygen he needed. She was the one that did her best to save him, the one that gave him the reprieve he needed before plunging back into the ice cold embrace of the ocean of shadows, suffocating him, engulfing him, drowning him.
He's sinking, deeper and deeper, far away from the surface, from the breath he needed, desperately.
To the north, beyond the gods...
He could feel the chilling athmosphere dancing in a ballad with the heat of battle. He remembered the fire way beyond the frost, the flashes of a burning house that soon switched to a block of wood. He could just taste the adrenaline that hung in the midst of war, the chitter chatter of bones and those hollow eyes— dull, blank, empty of the life they had lost a long time ago.
Lies the legion's crown...
He could hear the thunder in the distance as a flash of light struck the ground. He could hear the screams and screeches as the ground cracked and split. He remembered the heavy weight of panic and dread, the uncertainty, before he squeezed the staff in his hand, the golden eagle gleaming, ruby eyes as cold as the frost surrounding him yet filled with burning power, thrumming, pulsing, beating.
Falling from ice...
Another flash, and then he was falling, his footing lost within the thunder. Searing fire soon replaced by cold, dark embrace of the sea, dragging him down, chaining him to the ocean floor, imprisoning him.
The son of Neptune shall drown...
The lack of air was suffocating, crushing his lungs and destroying his sense of safety, of familiarity. Itwas not the comforting embrace he had come to love, no, it was numbing, bitter, penetrating. It was as if his father was not there, never there for him.
...Alaska...
All his life he had never believed he could drown, until he realised he had been drowning his whole life. He had been clawing, dragging himself up out of his hole of depression, only to fall back and finally succumb to the deep, arctic embrace of desolation, the same one as the waters isolating him at that time.
......the land beyond the gods...
He had doubted the gods from the very beginning, had never understood why his mother always spoke of them in high spirits and an edge of fondness. His mother had told him great stories, how they helped heroes and those who are in need— how encompassing they are.
If they are that merciful, he had thought, where are they when we needed them?
When he found out his father was a god, he had been ready to unleash hell upon said man, powerful or not. He remembered clearly the aura of the sea surrounding him, confirming him that whoever it was in front of him was definitely his father. He remembered the arrogant way he had walked and said how proud he was of him and how he loved him and his mother dearly.
If you loved me— had cared for me, then why didn't you help me?
Perseus was sinking, he knew this. He was falling, down and down as if a weight was tied on his legs, dragging him deeper and deeper. He knew he couldn't escape, knew that he needed an anchor to tie himself up to the surface, but his anchor had already been snatched away, leaving him alone. Even then, his naivety of hope kept him from drowning, kept him swimming up in attempt to reach the surface that just seemed to get further and further the more he tried.
Crack!
And soon more followed as the glass ball shattered and crumbled down to the ground, gone with the wind like ashes. He had no more hope, as if Pandora had just opened her pythos and let hope fly away.
He was lost, stuck in an endless maze, forever in a haze. Like Theseus had once been, only without Ariadne's string to guide his path, to lead him to freedom.
Perseus was sinking, drowning, deeper and deeper, further and further away from the surface, but he just didn't care, no, not anymore.
--
Fury stared, his gaze seemed to came out harshly even through a digital screen. His lone eye stared at the seven occupants of the room before moving to glare at the darkest corner of the room, seemingly at nothing yet something at the same time.
"I suppose you can't just sit like any other normal person, but at least try to."
A long intake of breath was heard, before— like a sheet lifted before the audience, the secret was revealed. Fury watched as the other stepped out of the shadows and stood where only the bridge of his nose and other certain places could be seen. It was not quite what he expected, but progress nonetheless.
"Sir?"
Fury's gaze focused in on the speaker, his dark brown eye sending shivers down Natasha's spine, forcing her to cover up the unwanted stimulus. Act, she reminded herself, conceal and pretend.
When she spoke, no traces of hesitance nor fear could be heard. Her voice as strong as her will, iron-like. Posture emanating confidence and face a smooth mask. The perfect image of a spy, the only thing betraying the facade she had created were her eyes. Her green orbs flittered with nervousness and anxiety, though she masked it well, and with the dim lighting of the room, it could be passed off as a mere trick of the light.
"What is the mission?"
Natasha fought back another shiver as the orb focused on her like a spotlight, nerve-wrecking as if was trying to light up the deepest darkest corner of her being and exposing her most concealed secrets.
"Nothing, for now..."
What?
"...but it is important to why I called you here today."
There was a pause, a gap that seemed too long. before he spoke again, voice full of a demand of secrecy.
"I truted you with the secret of Asset 0, now I'm trusting you with another one."
Another pause, and had Natasha not been so intimidated by him, she would have snorted at his flair for dramatics. The tense silence was agitating, teasing, mocking, and she knew she was going to snap soon.
"What do you know about the Infinity Gems?"
--
Soft brown eyes gazed at the chaos that rang loudly among him. He could see the determined masks already set in place, yet years of teaching allowed him to see the glimpse of fear under the facade they wore. At times like this, Chiron was reminded that these warriors are just mere children— all no more than twenty, and at times like this he wished he had never risen back from whichever Underworld he was in before.
It hurt him, to see each student going into war, betraying each other, losing their childhood in the heat of battle. It made his heart ache and throb, as if it was wheezing, showing his age.
A few moments had passed before he decided to relieve them of their tension by pounding his hoofs against the wooden floor below. The chaos subsided, even if only for a while.
Wary gazes shifted to focus at him, the spark of innocence and naivety gone from those eyes. So dull and dead, he noted, if only he was here. Shifting his eyes to focus on one of the occupants, he greeted her.
"Clarisse..."
Dark, boar-like eyed shifted up to meet his gaze, the flames of war burning brightly behind the murky layer of those orbs. Chiron fought back a shiver, for she looked so much like her father.
"...any signs of him?"
Her lips— before pulled into a straight line, started curving upwards into a sneer, her canines visible and her gaze mocking. Chiron knew she still disliked them, no, despised them, and he couldn't blame her for that.
"Well, maybe if you cared enough to help, maybe we would've had one. Besides, why do you care all of a sudden? Weren't you the ones that banished him a while ago, huh?! The ones that stabbed him in the back?! What is wrong with you people?!"
"Clarisse...please..."
She turned towards the speaker, eyes ablaze and burning with passion, and Chiron could just see the hate aflame amidst the cold, chilling glare directed at them.
"No! Shut up! Don't you even call me 'Clarisse', you were the cause of this mess! If you weren't such cowards then he wouldn't have left!"
There was a silence permeating the air, one of guilt and tension, as if one wrong mistake would make the daughter of war snap and cause havoc amongst them.
"...he would have still been here, joking like the Seaweed Brain he is..."
Chiron wasn't sure whether it was the stabbing words that left such a deep gash in his heart, or the iconic nickname she used. Clarisse had quieted down after the last part, and now she looked defeated, as if she had failed a battle and brought shame to her father's name.
Tense silence reigned once more, a different contrast of the havoc before it, before Clarisse stood up, fastly and strongly so her chair went skittering across the floor, screeching and skittering to a halt when it was near the wall. When she spoke, neither the hate and vulnerableness was present, instead it was a monotonous beat with an edge of frustration.
"I can't do this anymore, I'm leaving. Excuse me, Chiron."
It was decided— as Chiron looked at Clarisse's back as she exited, that the one thing that hurt him more than seeing his students die, was the fact that he had failed them. It lingered in his mouth, the taste of failure foul as ever.
What have we done?
--
So sorry for how out-of-schedule this is. I'm in the middle of finals and supposed to be studying, but I love you guys too much for that.
Second thing, take this as am apology. My school decided that the finals would be prolonged for another week.
Yep, you heard me right. It's a three-weeks exam.
Why?
#FML
The poll is still on, so make sure ya comment.
Well, that's it people.
Au Revoir
