Yo, Nerdist here with a brand new story! This is really different than what I have currently published and I had a far smoother time writing and editing than I usually do. A special shoutout to Tomoe Mami and 3dprinter who were excellent beta readers and helped with editing. I'll have an afterword at the end of this. Hope y'all enjoy!
His old name has been forgotten and abandoned to the mercy of time. He is fairly certain that was a good thing. The man he was… Had given up, let himself be defeated and walked in front of a bus. And he thought being left in the darkness was his punishment. To float and lament on every mistake and grievance he felt about his life. He felt like he had for an eternity. Longer than that. All that he had was the darkness and his thoughts.
Until he didn't even have that. His thoughts scattered, like dust in the wind, occasionally gaining snippets of coherency before falling away again. He remembers warmth and crying and being held by gigantic arms. Suckling on something warm. Laughing, smiling, curly black hair. Vibrant green eyes. Sockets filled with purple flames.
It's a rather sudden thing when he becomes more coherent, he realizes he is in a bed, a small one with cozy blankets. He is small too, with pudgy arms and legs. The room is dark with constellations glowing a merry green. His old life is stuffed into his head, he remembers broken bones and disappointment, and screaming and being screamed at. He was shattered on pavement, and now he is a child.
He freezes as a sniffling sound reaches his ears, a weird and pained hiccup. He realizes that it comes from his own mouth, and overwhelmed tears pour like a river down his face. It hurts, it hurts so much, as he curls a body he knows and doesn't know into the covers and bites on a pillow to muffle his tears. He doesn't know if he feels sad, he regretted so much and hated so much of what he did. He was a lazy, self-centered, entitled dreamer who had so many ideas but wasted them. It makes him feel unworthy to be alive, but things are different. His tears run dry and his sobs get softer as he lets himself think. It's not like he stole this life, or condemned it. This is his life. The old one has always been a part of him, relics, a memory. That man was. He is. He can live how he pleases and be better. He will not ruin this life, or waste it, or discard it.
He finally falls asleep with snot and tears drying on his pillow, and determination new and fluttering in his heart.
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When he wakes up early that morning to the crow of a rooster his body acts on instinct, throwing aside his covers and changing out of race car themed pajamas and into a vibrant green shirt and overalls, along with little boots that he doesn't know how to tie. He then climbs a small box to brush his teeth over the sink. During this, he marvels at how simply ingrained it is to follow a routine in this life (he always struggled in his old life but he thinks learning it from an early age this time changed things). And he looks into the mirror above his sink to see a face he recognizes. It's a thin thing, even with baby fat, healthy tanned skin peeks out at him and wild black curls fall like water just above his eyes. His eyes, not like any other eyes he has seen. The irises are large and almost seem to obscure the white, the color an intense and bright purple that looks broken and shifting like a kaleidoscope. Caterpillar like eyebrows frame it and he doesn't know what to think of this face besides that it is his.
Honestly, all he can think of as he looks away from the mirror is orbs of purple flames that he sees every time he sleeps. It doesn't make sense to him. Maybe it doesn't have to, that thought makes him happy and he walks clumsily into the kitchen, still blinking sleep out of his eyes. He sees a woman with hair like liquid oil and evergreen eyes. Her skin is as tan as his, and strong muscles that ripple softly as she sets a muffin, banana, and orange juice on the table in front of his seat.
"Mornin' Mami." Her powerful eyes focus on me and a small grin wrinkles its way onto her face, her voice is like an engine, full of a slow and steady power, and you'll get burned if you get to close.
"Good morning Bud, you ready for today?" He nods and thinks about the day ahead of him, Mami was going to let him help feed the horses today. He thinks about it as he munches on his breakfast happily. In this life his Mami is a co-owner of a large ranch and Vineyard, he has never met his father but Mami never talks about him so he is content to leave it alone. His life revolves around his place, he plays with the children of the other families and has fun. Everyone calls him Palo which is short for something but he can't remember it currently, and he is just under five and loves working with animals and running around under the sun. It amazes him how he can have the same soul but a vastly different personality. The thought has him giggling into his juice, his Mami starts laughing too, almost as if in response.
"Palo, what so funny little man?" He hums as he kicks his unlaced shoes back and forth in his chair.
"I was thinking what a horse sneezing would look like." He faked a sneeze and whinnied like he thought a horse would as he shook his whole body. It sent both of them into a laughing fit.
"You'll just have to find out today, won't you?"
"Yep!" The smile his mother made him warm all over and Palo promised himself again that he would cherish this life. And he got to see a real-life horse that day, and it sneezed amazingly bonus.
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Being five is both easier and harder than Palo thought it would be. On one hand, he has an incredible amount of energy and is happy to use it running and goofing off to his heart's content. On the other hand, he has far too much energy. The other children wear out far before he does and even the ranch dogs seem to tire faster. On top of that, he can barely focus on a single topic with his mind flying back and forth at random. It drove the other children away at times with how erratic he could get, he didn't mind, he had plenty of ways to try and have fun. Unfortunately, one of his favorites got a lot trickier, he had tried reading, but every letter was fuzzy and upside down and backward. He was so frustrated he nearly cried when his mother tried to help him read.
"What's a wrong buddy?" His little finger tried to trace the words but they still didn't translate.
"Th-the letters don't make sense." He can practically feel her frown as she looks at the page of doctor Seuss with him.
"Can you explain that for me Palo, please?"
"They keep jumping around and changing shape, I can't tell them apart." Palo's voice rose a little at that and he could feel frustration burn in his chest, reading was maybe the one thing he was good at in the old life, and now that was gone.
His mother pulled him into one of her rare hugs, and he melts like a pile of goo into the comfort.
"It's okay baby, we can visit a doctor in the next few days and they can help us figure this out, okay." Something he didn't know had broken suddenly fell into place as his mother said 'us' and he just nods as he turns and crushes himself into her warm body. She startles slightly but doesn't move, humming softly as she pets his back.
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The Doctor diagnoses him with acute dyslexia, and while he suspected it was the case it frustrated him that he had it. And he is utterly unsurprised when they discuss the possibility of him also having ADHD, but his mother refuses medication, wanting to try and handle it naturally. Something the doctor says does give him hope, however.
"If he has enough determination he can drastically lessen his struggle by frequent practice, that is the best way to handle it, but it is entirely up to him." He can't help but grin at this, even if he struggles to focus, even if the words turn to mud on the page, he can work on it. A wild and strange giggle rears in his throat but he pushes it down, and it settles in his chest even as Mami drives them home. He realizes what it is during dinner, it's hilarious and grand that he has something to fight for so early on. And he never had the urge in that old life. But this is in the new, so he better get used to it. He and Mami eat and silence, content to see what the future has in store.
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Palo is nearing six and full of fire, he spends at least an hour or two everyday reading, mostly through picture books, but still. Back and forth over and over again to the point of obsession. He has learned that the harder he tries to force it the more muddled it gets, instead the words come easiest when he lets his eyes unfocus and lets the words be absorbed as an afterthought. It is still incredibly difficult but he is making slow but sure progress and he feels pride at that. And because of this, he learns many new things, for one the ranch they partially own in called Fox Run (coolest name ever!) and it's in Penn Yan New York. And two is that there is a hand-painted sign on his door with the name Palavo Jordan. He has never heard his name before but it sounds cool. After his Mami comes home and relaxes after work he decides to ask.
"Hey, Mami?" She looks up from her laptop that she was typing away on.
"Yeah, Palo?"
"Where did my name come from?" Palo's Mami seems startled before she puts her laptop to the side and pulls him into her lap. Seeming to prepare an answer.
"It's the Greek word for daredevil." That… Was not what he was expecting, he takes a small second to respond.
"Why do you pick it? And why Greek, that's old isn't it?" Mami flicked his nose playfully and he giggled as he let his eyes go cross. She giggled in tandem with him before growing serious.
"Your father is the one who chose your name Palavo." Palo likes the way his name sounds from her lips like it was a precious treasure that she didn't want to let go of. And he can't let the shreds of awe out of his voice when he replies.
"He did?"
"He did, he loves us both a lot Palo." He can't help but get riled up at this answer that gave him so many questions he tries to talk but his words are blurred and mixing, his body practically vibrating in his excitement. His mother presses her hands on his shoulders and it helps him settle down.
"Take a deep breath Palavo, that's it, good job. Now can you please ask your questions one at a time and remember to speak slowly, your tongue is far faster than my ears." Palo really loves his Mami.
"Why did he pick my name? And is it okay for you to tell me why he isn't with us?" She hums and taps a pattern onto his shoulders with her fingers.
"Well done Palavo. I think I'll answer both your questions with a story, sound good?" Palo wiggles to get more comfortable and nods. His mother takes a big and slow breath, like grabbing all the words she needs and piling them up. Preparing them for the power of her voice. And when she speaks it's so powerful it feels like a haze is crawling over Palo's skin, covering him with the story.
"It was St Patrick's day when I met your father. I had agreed to help a friend host a party on the ranch. It was a wild and crazy thing, but I had worked in a bar for years so I was right in my element. Hundreds of people had come and it was busy and wild that all sorts of folks we hadn't invited slipped in. Your father was there from the get-go, playing games and laughing his heart out, everyone seemed to flock around him and revel in his presence. He wasn't the biggest or best-looking person there, far from it!" Palo giggles as he imagines Mami with her hands on her hips, she giggles a little too.
"He was a little on the short side with black hair even curlier than yours with eyebrows and a beard so fuzzy I wondered if he was secretly a grizzly bear. The strangest thing was no matter how dark it got he always wore a pair of sunglasses. A big pair so no one could see his eyes. And he was wearing the ugliest shirt with big green clovers on it, it made my eyes want to melt!" That, huh, Palo can't help but wonder how his mother ended up with a man like that, and how she could carry so much love in her voice. Even more, he wanted to know why this man wasn't here now.
"I just couldn't figure out why everyone loved him so much, but I was so busy I ignored him and kept working. Eventually, the party had lasted so long that it was nearly morning, and a lot of people had left, unfortunately, some people had been drinking a lot of wine that night."
"Wine is an alcohol, and alcohol is something a lot of adults drink because it helps them forget things that hurt them. But when they drink too much it can sometimes make them forget how to be a good person, and all their bad parts come out. It makes some of them wild and crazy, and I had the bad luck to catch the attention of men who were very very wild and crazy. They thought I was very pretty and wanted to play with me, but I didn't want to play you see, and that made them angry and they were going to try to hurt me."
"They were going to?"
"That's right Palo, my smart baby. They were about to try and hurt me, but your father came over, all the laughs and silliness drained out of him. He had drunk more than anyone there but it looked like it hadn't affected him one bit. The men got even madder than before and it looked like he was a step away from getting beat up. There were at least six of them and they were a lot bigger than him. But then, he did something." She paused so Palo took that as his cue.
"What did he do?" He didn't have to fake his anticipation, his mother was a fantastic storyteller.
"He took off his glasses, and instead of eyes he had two balls of purple fire, it was hot but it was brighter than the sun. It forced the bad men to look into them and for a moment there was nothing, and I thought I had just been imagining it. I knew it was real when the men started screaming, I had never seen someone so afraid but they ran away as fast as they could, falling and tumbling but still running. And when they were gone I looked at that strange man and gazed into his purple fire, and he was nervous, that I would be like the men and go running in fear. He was so surprised that I thanked him instead. He seemed so lost as he asked me a question."
" 'How are you not going mad?' I could only shake my head and say 'I've always been mad, I'm not going anywhere.' He said right then that he fell in love with me, and after talking to him I fell in love too."
She started brushing her son's hair with her finger and he couldn't help but smile as he kept listening. This story sounded impossible, and yet he remembers his dreams of that violet fire where eyes should be, so powerful and pretty. Even more, the old life had memories of books, where kids had one parent around and the other was impossible. Like a man with purple fire in his eyes that loved parties and wine. One who caused madness.
"We kept meeting after that, and I knew from the beginning that he was something more than just a man. But that didn't matter, and eventually, we learned I was pregnant with you, my little miracle. And he told me the truth about him, how he was older than any man could be. How he and his family were worshipped and legends were about them. How he was from Greece and he wanted to give you his name as a gift. How sorry he was he couldn't be here with us." Palo sits up and twists so he can look his mother in the eyes and see that strong and amazing green.
At this moment Palo realized no one else will make eye contact with him, they looked away as if in pain. Or squinted and clutched their foreheads, especially after that incident weeks ago with that dog, he doesn't like thinking about it. This is important, so he forces himself to speak, clear and slow.
"He's one of the people in the stories Aunty Rosa tells us when she babysits, isn't he." His Mami's eyes widen impossibly more. And he doesn't think she's ever been this surprised.
"You believe me little Palavo?" He nods and presses a small hand against his chest.
"It feels true, and you told me to listen to my heart and it agrees, and I have his eyes, don't I?" She smiles and her eyes get even more beautiful to him, his Mami is so amazing it makes him want to cry, he almost does when she cups his cheeks and rubs her thumbs under his eyes.
"You do Palo, you have so much of his fire, and you're so very strong because of it. I almost wish you weren't." He frowned in confusion.
"Why do you wish that Mami?"
"Your father, he told me, that once you get to a certain age dangerous things will start happening. Because you have so much of him it started early."
"Like the dog?"
"Just like the dog, but worse." That was not a good thing. He doesn't like thinking about what had happened. But it is making even more sense, besides, he is as mad as his Mami and Father, the impossible come together easy peasy. Maybe two weeks ago they were at a birthday party for one of the Vineyard children, and he and the other children were running close to the woods. They spotted a dog, impossibly big, bigger than a horse and fur blacker than his Mami's hair. It was feasting on a dear, chewing the bones to dust and getting bathed in the blood. The other children screamed in terror and ran, he was frozen in place, his blood pumping like a fire hose was connected to him. The beast knocked him over and was snarling deep and loud. A large set of teeth were snapping down and he was convinced he was going to die again. And was so scared and frustrated and sad that all he could do was laugh as beady black eyes met his. And then the beast was laughing too, he didn't know monster dogs could laugh.
They probably shouldn't, the sound was torn from its throat and broken like gravel. Its eyes rolled back and it scrambled off of him, yipping, jumping and twitching. The adults came running just as it stumbled back into the forest, seemingly scared of its own shadow. He shuddered lightly just remembering it. His mother hugs him tight and he hugs back tighter.
"After that party, your father came to talk to me, it's far too unsafe for you to live here for now. There is a camp where children like you can go and be safe, to learn how to protect yourselves, he is in charge of it, he wants you to go there. I think you should too." Tears build in his eyes as he crushes his face against his mother's shirt.
"What about you Mami?" Mami pushes him back slightly and brushes the tears out of his eyes.
"I can't, that is not my world little devil. But it is yours and I want you to live the best you can. Going there can help you do this better than anything else can. I promise that we'll see each other again." Palavo the daredevil, that's the role he lives in this life. The one who dances with death again and again for the sake of entertainment. And right now he could cry, pitch a fit, whine and beg the world not to take this amazing mother away from him. But the world is foolish just like he is, so what he does is smile at his mother, a daredevil beginning his act.
"I'm gonna get strong Mami, strong enough to be around you. Strong enough to fight the world!" He started laughing wildly after that and his mother mimicked him. He couldn't help it, after all, that might become terrifyingly true.
After that, he and his Mami spent five more days together, five days of affection and interaction at every turn. The entire time Mami was amazing, getting the entire situation under control, alerting the Vineyard and getting together any resources she thought her son might need. Including a debit card with a rather ludicrous sum from her savings. She gave Palo a very serious lecture about responsible spending and not losing the card, as well as the pin that was written on a slip of paper, she even got him a wallet that he practiced always having on his person.
Eventually, she loaded up the great big truck she liked using and then they were both on their way. He slept for the first portion because he could hardly sleep during the night, too worked up to do much more than sit on his bed with his body nearly vibrating in a vain attempt to keep the wildness at bay. He can feel it creeping under his skin, the itch to let go, embrace insanity and dance and revel in fire and chaos till his bones age to dust. It's an ache in his bones that he is just realizing has been there ever since he was born, part of why his thoughts fly like a hummingbird, why his heart beats so fast that his body moves faster than he can think. He wouldn't change it for the world.
But it did cause him to be out like a light for the first two hours of the five-hour journey. For a short while, they stopped for lunch, eating packed food in a public park that was fairly busy. He and Mami mostly just sat close and didn't talk, enjoying the silence and Palo happily munched on his grapes. For a small period, Palo amused himself watching a small group of children play with a young and sleek black labrador. Then one of the kids got toppled down with the dog on top and licking at their face oh god the face and teeth ITS-GOING-TO-EAT-HIS-FACE. FuNnY hOw FuNnY iS tHaT. FwuhahhahohahbwahahahahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH.
*SLAP* "Palavo. I need you to calm down and listen to me. Listen to me and stop laughing." All of a sudden he can think again. And he notices something, he is laughing, loud, harsh and disparate sounds, tears cake his face and blur his eyes. Everyone but his mother is laughing, just like him. Exactly. Like. Him. Every sound in tandem with his pulled from their throats by fish hooks. They can't help it, gripped in madness and a second away from getting trapped permanently.
He closes his mouth, his tongue catches in his teeth and blood splashes from it, pain distant. Everyone else stops too and he is picked up by his mother and carried to the truck. They leave in silence. Palo feels like a monster, so he nurses his wounded tongue in silence. But after another half hour, they stop at a gas station and Mami turns him to look at her. She takes a napkin to wipe his tears away, only to bring him into a hug that has him sobbing desperately, no words need to be said. Just heartbreakingly amazing acceptance and understanding, and forgiveness. Mami puts gas in the car and they keep going, the lingering blood in Palo's mouth helps to keep him centered, so does the stinging pain when he shifts his tongue. It is so strange how the old life despised pain, and in this life, he just grins. But he isn't the same person, he knew this, just another way to see it.
Mami pulls them over, dunes and reed mounds as far as he could see, except for the van, a big white one like what little kids are offered candy to go into. The words Delphi's Strawberry Service plastered on the side. The moment the truck was in park Palo was unbuckling from his seat. His Mami put a hand up, so he paused and waited as she got out and made her way towards the van. What he saw next made him clamp down on his wounded tongue to prevent another laughing fit.
The figures that get out dash any desperate lingering doubt that had been clinging to his head. The blonde hair man muscled like a greek sculpture and blue eyes blinking from every other spot of skin. A Tripophobes walking nightmare, that is the creation of Hera, and next to him is a brunette woman with curly artificial green hair and fur-covered legs peeking from athletic shorts leading to hard black hooves. A Satyr, which is such a wildly different experience from reading about them and seeing one naturally existing instead of approximate imaginings brought to the big screen.
He bites down again, hard. The wound on his tongue widens and pinpricks of tears bloom in his eyes. But he is back enough in the present to see a verbal exchange going on between his Mami and the other Lady. The lady seems to laugh at something before they shake hands and his Mami turns and gestures for him to come to her. He shoulders the little backpack that he stored his important things in and gets out. Keeping his eyes down as he walks forward when he gets to them his Mami grasps his shoulders and kneels to look at him. Gripping his chin and forcing him to look her in the eyes.
"I love you more than life Palavo, and I swear I will see you again. This woman is Caroline, she will bring you to your father. I promise it is going to be okay." That steadiness and confidence in his Mami's voice make him want to cry. He forces himself to speak, glad he can't talk without the wound making it sound weird.
"Love you Mami, I swear too." Sadly he doesn't think he is ready to say anything else and his throat closes up. His Mami understands like she always does and hugs him softly, for that final time. And she lets go far too soon as she stands, says goodbye to them and gets in her truck and drives away. The blonde man had already loaded the van in the meantime.
"Can't believe how rude…" He can barely hear it and it peters off fast but he turns to Caroline, and careful not to let her see his eyes, or look at hers, finds the strength to speak.
"Mami 'snot rude, hurt too much if she stayed." The lady sighs and ruffles his hair softly.
"I'm sorry kid, that was mean of me. Let's get into the Van okay, Argus has her ready." Palo nods before pausing.
"Her?" Caroline smiles at the, he can see because he was focusing on her chin. "Some vehicles are given a gender kid, most are female." He nods, that is something he vaguely remembers from the old life, though most of that is so foggy he sometimes almost doubts it was real. He does appreciate the teasing but stays silent as they pile in. The blonde man who he can now call Argus nods to him and he returns it with difficulty. Doing his best not to look at any of the numerous visible eyes.
He wishes this trip could be silent too, but the van had a bench seat upfront and they all sat together with him squashed in the middle with his little pack on his lap. Caroline takes the time to describe the camp to him.
"There is quite a lot to do, from canoeing to arts and crafts to combat practice. Though I do suppose- is something wrong?" She had tried to initiate eye contact and Palo had slammed his eyes shut.
"My eyes hurt people." He felt her shift next to him. Her voice is teasing again when she talks.
"Really? Your mom seemed just fine when she looked in them." Palo sighed, trying to find the right words.
"My Mami said I had eyes like my dad's purple fire, it doesn't bother her but it hurts other people. It's gotten worse, laughing has too." Caroline seemed distracted by something, Palo just kept his eyes close, let his fingers dance on his lap, and focused on the engine's hum.
"Is your mouth bleeding?" Palo nods feeling surprised. Caroline mutters a curse before rummaging through something. He flinched when a bottle was pressed to his lips.
"Take as small a sip of this as you can. It will help, promise." Palo does it, and he jolts lightly as the richest taste of grapes and dark chocolate fills his mouth. His eyes fly open in shock even as his tongue is knitted back together with soothing warmth.
"What was that?!" The goat-woman smiled. "That's Nectar, a special drink that can heal, it always tastes like the food that makes you happiest. A little heals you, but it's very dangerous if you drink too much. So it's only used when it's super important, got it?" Palo nods, silently processing that, he's pretty sure he knew that but the spottiness of foreknowledge makes it trustworthy. So he definitely shouldn't rely on it.
"We're here kid." He flinches slightly as he looks up and sees a dirt path winding over a few hills. He is beckoned to get out with his bag. "Argus is gonna take the van and put it up, he'll take your stuff and drop it off at cabin twelve, okay?"
"Okay." The lady seems hesitant about something but doesn't say anything as she leads him up the path. He fills an itch in his bones to run, fast and hard till his bones weep. Danger. Caroline stiffens next to him.
"Kid I need you to do as I say, follow this path and you'll see the camp. Find the people patrolling and tell them there is an unknown number of hellhounds." Her voice is a forced calm, but he can hear the nerves. Palo wishes he could run, but if he did then he knew without a doubt Caroline would die. He doesn't want her too. Not because of him.
"Hellhounds are the big black dogs." Palo's voice came out easy and calm, he has no idea why, but he's so calm it's hilarious. Drop-dead funny. Caroline's voice is a hiss.
"What?! Yes! Now run!" He can hear it now, heavy paws slamming the ground, deep and heavy breaths. The smell of dirt and decay, like rotting leaves used for fertilizer. He walks forward, away from the camp.
"I know how to deal with dogs, you can run faster than me, go, I'll be fine." The satyr looks panicked and terrified, and frustrated.
"Are you insane?" She grips his shoulder hard and finally, he lets her see what she didn't believe. She looks into his purple eyes and sees an answer. He speaks it for clarity.
"Yes, you should go now." Calm, calm so calm. She isn't told twice and runs, fast and hard. He didn't know someone could be that fast.
He wondered for a moment if the hounds of hell would nip at her heels. They turned to him instead, they are big. Animals with night fur and razor claws, bigger than cars. There are several, three he can see, more behind him. Two he thinks, so maybe five. He doesn't care. He can feel the aggression bleed off them, rolling on his skin with their snarls and deep booming barks. He wonders why they're waiting. Until the biggest one in front of him crouches and tenses.
There are definitely more than four because another is in sight, its eyes look weird and Palo thinks he remembers them. That doesn't matter, this number is perfect. One's company, two's a crowd, three and anything more? That's a party.
"London Bridge is falling down
Falling down, falling down" He's dancing as the words come forth, a nursery rhyme from both his lives, he's twisting and spinning.
"London Bridge is falling down
My fair lady" The hounds are dancing too, leaping and twisting and howling.
"Build it up with iron bars
Iron bars, iron bars" The revelry builds. What a grand event this is! Brutal beasts bedazzled by the bumbling baby boy. Palo thinks that might have rhymed.
"Build it up with iron bars
My fair lady" He counts as he spins, there are six hounds. One is out of place, long and skinny, black eyes cracked with veins of burning purple. The other hounds wail as one land bad and twist its paw. It keeps dancing.
"Iron bars will bend and break
Bend and break, bend and break" The hound with the broken eyes comes, it experienced revelry first, the grand laugh. It licks his face with a butcher's breath and he knows he could die.
"Iron bars will bend and break
My fair lady" His skin burns and his throat aches, his body screams in tandem with the hounds, he keeps dancing. The hound with purple laced eyes pounces on another in the dance. Claws and teeth tearing flesh, it falls to the dirt and turns to golden dust, bones clatter and crunch under the hound he's claimed.
"Build it up with gold and silver
Gold and silver, gold and silver" His hound keeps going, his hound. A beast of revelry bound to his heart, his madness. He knows that this is special, it chose his dance, his loyal companion in the never-ending festival.
"Build it up with gold and silver
My fair lady" His hound tore apart two more, fur and teeth left with dust, how odd. Party favors. Two brutal black beasties are stuck in this dance, eyes wide and mouths frothing.
"London Bridge is falling down
Falling down, falling down" One hound left, he's never felt so tired, bones of lead and heart of dread, his voice is almost gone.
"London Bridge is falling down
M-y f-a-i-r l-a-d-y" His dance is done and his hound took a chance.
Palo falls to the ground so very limp, his bones ache and his lungs rattle to breathe. He has no idea how he did that if that was him. The madness had filled him and took him over, a mania and fervor that had burned itself away. The only hellhound left is the one with eyes now fully purple, it gets to the ground and noses into his side, it is sleek and starved looking. Like an Irish greyhound supersized, a whipcord tail wags behind it. Palo reaches a hand to scratch behind an ear and the tail blurs.
"What the actual fuck?" He looks up to see Caroline with multiple figures in leather armor, he can't make out real details, his eyes are blurry, the world is blurry too.
"Don't hurt my puppy, he's my first pet." He gets a low woof in reply. And pats the dog's head as the world spins while he is seated. Spots danced in his eyes.
"And you can't hurt anyone too got it? Be a good boy." He gets a lick to the face as the world goes black.
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Palo isn't entirely sure where he is. It's a forest, tropical and vibrant, and it should be peaceful but what he hears is screams of laughter. And they turn to plain screaming. He's in a clearing now, with the central bonfire burning merrily as it sends smoke to the heavens. The space is filled to bursting with armored women equipped glowing bronze weaponry striking down people in all states of undress. Slaughtering them as they run. His attention is brought to a woman with a dagger. Green eyes flash as she defends a group of children cowering behind her. Her aggressor is a regal woman wearing a crown and ridiculously large sword in her hand. A chain-link belt strapped around her waist reflects the fire.
"Bow to the Amazons you worthless whore!" Palo feels a tug in his chest like something was being pulled by a magnet, pressing against his chest plate. He misses any other word, but the bonfire turns purple and this time it's the soldiers who scream. Clawing their eyes out in hysteria. And then he is gone.
Now he is in a room, walls, and floors made of wooden planks. No doors No windows, no spaces in between. The only occupants are seated at a table just as wooden as the rest of the room. Palo finds he can move this time, instead of a frozen bystander. So he sits and watches the performance.
Performance is most certainly what it is, three women born old. He would almost say they were identical, all wear dresses made of old and faded denim, and the same healthy skin wrinkled beyond reason with sharp prehistorically amber-colored eyes. Spider silk hair was done in matching buns with roses used as pins. Each rose is a different color so Palo names them by the rose.
Yellow is the one on the right, she is the weaver, a spinning wheel being perpetually used to draw out and spool thread seemingly gathered from light.
Yellow hands the middle one, a classic red, the end of the thread. It flows through her fingers like water as it increases in length. It glimmers and shines so vibrantly, so much represented in so little space, a life, a beginning.
And then to the sister with pink. Holding a pair of shears the color of smoke. Palo thinks those shears might be heavier than anything, and the woman carries them with ease. She takes them to the point held by sister yellow and goes the guillotine shears. Snip. Palo has never heard a sound so strongly. And then that piece of string, impossibly long and unbearably short is set down so very gently, into a wicker basket where countless threads before it stay. Piled and Piled and Piled. Palo wishes he knew what purpose they had, what they would create.
Something wet brushes his cheek, once and then again, a hot, rough and slimy thing. The reality of the room bends and waivers. And he is yanked away when the room is parted with eyelids he didn't know were closed.
The tongue rasps across his face again, and Palo pushes away a snout that could bite his six-year-old self in half. It doesn't and he is met with lavender eyes the size of tennis balls, slow and quiet eyes. A smile works its way onto his face.
"I'm glad to see you're okay, any idea where we are?" The dog whines and Palo takes that as a no. He sits up, feeling remarkably better than when he was last conscious. He is in an area boxed by curtains, so a sick bay or something similar.
He shivers slightly as his bare feet meet the tiled floor, luckily he is still wearing the rest of his clothes and his bag was left next to the bed. He grabs that and quickly puts his shoes on. He turns to see the hellhound standing up and fully appreciates just how large the beast is. He has to crane up to even see those eyes staring down. With its head up that would no doubt be eight feet of dog. And the poor animal looked near starved, very lean and skinny, with ribs showing. Suffice to say he could walk under the dog with plenty of room. And past the curtains showed more sterile beds and all of them were empty. He goes to the door and beckons for the giant dog to follow. Luckily the doorway is strangely large so they fit through with little difficulty.
After that, Palo works his way out of the building, his canine companion following quietly, he realizes it is nearly empty, except for a strangely sentient leopard head in a ping pong room. The less said about that the better. He finally makes it to a screen door and opens it eagerly. He has to shield his eyes for a moment to get acclimated to the blazing afternoon sun. When he can see he is greeted to the sight of an older man with a chiseled face and long brown hair in a wheel-chair. Next to him is a man in a blue Hawaiian button-up and sunglasses and a male satyr. The wheel-chair man smiles warmly, the sunglasses man stares in a weird way.
"It is a pleasure to meet you , I am Chiron, welcome to camp half-blood. A place where children like yourself can be safe from harm and learn to better themselves." That's all well and good but he has more important concerns.
"Can I please get something to eat, for my dog too, we're hungry." His stomach growls on cue and it causes the man to blink before chuckling in amusement. He gestures to an empty folding chair.
"I'm sure we can fix something up, please sit. I'm sure you have many questions, we do for you." Palo sits and his newly claimed pet death puppy sits next to him and plops his head into his lap. Palo pets obligingly.
"I have a lot so ask first please." Chiron chuckles again as a plate of pb&j sandwiches appear for the boy and a large salad bowl full of kibble appears for the monster who digs in eagerly.
"Your mother said she explained some things to you, but just to be safe could you tell us what you know about your current situation?" The six-year-old pauses in his feasting of delicious bready goodness and nods.
"Greek gods and goddesses are real, they have kids with humans and make demigods. Monster hunt and eat demigods, you train us here."
"Essentially yes, this is meant to be home to whoever needs it. I understand this might be a frightening topic but can you tell me what happened before Caroline and the others found you? And how this one" He looks pointedly at his dog. "Came to be your companion." Palo frowns and thinks of the best way to answer but it turns out he doesn't have to.
"He overwhelmed the mutts' mind and poured divinity into it, it's his familiar now. " Chiron startles, so does the Satyr.
"I was under the impression you didn't know what happened Mr.D." The man sighs and Palo thinks he is rolling his eyes under the shades.
"I knew exactly what happened Sharon, I just didn't feel the need to explain it more than once, so voila here we are."
"Do the glasses help?" Their attention turns back to him. And Palo takes a greedy second to soak up the image of the man he is 99.999998% sure is his father. He looks nothing like in the books, short hair, thick and full beard, tannish skin. The glasses, and eyebrows that seem like the matured version of the parasitic hairy worms that rest above his own eyes. And he explains his question when one of them is raised.
"My Mami, she told me about how you two met, and you look just like in her story. You took the glasses off before you took care of those men. Do they" Palo almost bites his tongue again to keep a laugh of near hysteric desperation as he lets himself look up fully(he hadn't realized he had been ducking his head)? "Do they help keep the madness in?" He really really wants an answer. But Chiron interrupts anything the wine god would've said.
"Dionysus is this child…..?" The Centaur(he's not supposed to know that yet so shhhhh.) peters off as he and the Satyr stare at the space above his head. Palo follows their gazes and sees a neon violet bunch of grapes glowing inches from his noggin. He tries to poke it but his finger just goes through it.
"I know you love to give this so much ceremony. But it would do me a real favor if I could have a few minutes alone with my son." Chiron seems genuinely caught off guard but accepts it, leaving the wheelchair. Which Palo didn't even have to fake being shocked at, because wow. And the Satyr runs for the hills after Mr. D sends him a look. For a moment Palo just sits dumbfounded at the scene in front of him. This was unexpected and rather confusing.
"Chiron didn't know you are my father?" The look the god sent him was utterly unimpressed.
"That's what you're fixated on? You are most certainly Lola's kid. Whatever catches your interest takes first place and everything else can wait. But to answer that question he had no reason to guess it, I didn't tell him and as far as he knew I hadn't sired a child in quite some time. Besides, the old stick thrower could use a little excitement." Palo nods, processing that slowly.
"When mom described you, I borrowed a book from my aunt. It said you had a wife, is she alright?" Something in the male's face softened.
"Yes, her name is Ariadne, and I love her very much, she is very accepting of my flaws. Loving women other than her is one of them."
"She sounds like a good person Dee-dieyeeo-dad." Palo can't deny how awkward he feels right now, and he chews very lightly on his tongue to stifle a nervous chuckle. His father notices.
"I don't think any of my children have been quite so attuned to that aspect of my divinity."
"You mean my laughing, and my eyes, and what happened with the hellhound thingies?" The man chuckles lightly while he toys with the can of Cola in front of him. It is a wild and warm thing that wraps around Palo and makes him feel far calmer.
"Yes, most people say I am the god of wine and leave it to that. And indeed that is what most people see, but I am also the incarnation of insanity in all its forms, and celebration. I met your mother when the latter two were more prominent." He seemed, well, sad, more than anything, a slow and old sad. Palo didn't try to question it, just put his much smaller hand on top of the older one of his father. This man, this immortal man of immense power was portrayed so shallowly until he had a child die in those novels. Palo thinks he shouldn't judge anyone based on blurry memories of children's books but this man is more than anything he expected, more human. They sit in silence before Dionysus finally speaks again.
"It never really goes away, that feeling in your bones, it is far more than mere madness. It is the wild and careless carnal freedom that humans crave. It sits and builds, burning deep until it pours out, the more you keep it in the stronger it gets." That makes an eerie amount of sense to Palo, he kept having those moments of eruptions, and the aftermath wasn't pretty, the scene with the Hellhounds was pure luck.
"How do I control it." His father sighs and takes off his shades. Showing off purple eyes that nearly glow, and for a brief moment, the flames overtake them, the madness flowing brightly before it seems to spread and diffuse, back into true eyes.
"You don't control it, you don't do anything but live with it. It is part of you and always will be when you stop fighting it you don't need to be afraid. You can only hurt yourself as much as you hate that part of you. Tell me, what is your urge, that pulls under your skin. What does it say?" Palo closes his eyes and focuses on that feeling, the one that scared him, that he kept pushing away. And the one time he brought it willingly he flung it out like a rabid dog instead as something he was born with. He looks at all the self-made boundaries and forces himself to let go.
It is painful, like walking on an invisible bridge, you will always fear it until you can trust it will be there, but you will never find out if you don't take the first step. So he walks forward, and forward. And then he gets it.
A laugh, wild and free and painless, it blooms out of him and breezes through the air. Not like the other times, instead of puppets laughter, it saturates the air with good cheer and hilarity. His dog wags its tail and howls in joy. When the noise peters off he turns to his father and answers. Feeling a warm glow in his chest at the proud little grin playing on his father's lips.
"It tells me to dance, bask in the fire of the world and burn brighter than anything. To laugh with the great joke of the world and perform until my heart bursts." His hound barks quietly in agreement.
"A performer huh? Guess that means the mutt is part of your troupe, I'll eagerly wait for a chance to see your act."
"I'll make it worthwhile dad. Also, do you know if those people in the park are okay?" Dionysus snorts and waves his hand, utterly unconcerned.
"What happened with your mutt was a complete fluke, besides they had no magic whatsoever so it just left them shaken. And the mist-covered it up after that."
"Mist?"
"It keeps mortals from seeing the supernatural." Oh yeah.
"Guess it just makes them 'mist' the big picture then." The god snorted.
"That was spectacularly awful."
"Thank you" Palo receives another snort for his efforts.
"Little devil, I suppose this is the part where you want some heartfelt apology for not being there?"
"Nope." The god legitimately looks surprised for a moment.
"Really? I figured that this was how it usually went, Olympus knows how many times Apollo has whined about one of his kids giving him the cold shoulder." Palavo shrugs.
"Mami was more than enough, besides. You wouldn't force a lion to be a pig, my momma told me that once. I agree." Dionysus burst into full-bodied laughter, and it's like the world turned more colorful. The smell of fresh wine and flowers flickered with smoke, and Palavo felt like he was just given a sugar rush.
"Yo-your mother told me that too, you sounded just like her when you said that." A warm grin graced his lips and Palavo could see how people could fall in love with this god. How this man became his father. He has no doubt this immortal could be a monster or a total bastard. But right now he will bask in this side he is allowed to see.
The wine god sobers slightly. "While normally I'd dump this task onto one of the goats or brats that infest this place I think I can make an exception." He gathers a put upon expression, so dry and bored that Palavo almost laughs himself to tears, the tone that follows is entirely dead and monotone. "Follow me through the tour of Funland." His father dissolves into snickers and Palavo can hardly stand from the force of his laughter.
They make their way towards the horseshoe of cabins while the far older male gives 'helpful commentary'. The pegasus stables. "Death by glue chicken." The rock (with complementary lava) wall. "Death by overkill." The Ares cabin, well. A pattern clearly emerged. And Palavo loved every second of it. The dog bounded playful circles around them both, happily pouncing on thin air.
"Hey dad, can you help me find a name for him?" Surprisingly the god hesitated.
"Are you sure kid, names-well- they're pretty important." Palavo nods determinedly.
"Yep, you picked a good one for me, besides you're a god, you'll know a lot more things than me to use." The parent nods, still slightly hesitant but willing. Taking a long look and assessing his thoughts.
"I once met an Irish demigod of unbelievable skill and strength, a true rival for Heracles himself. The Hound of Ulster they called him, and he was one of the most loyal individuals I have ever met. Using the full name would be a mouthful but, how does Cue sound?" The young demigod rolls the name around in his head before nodding happily. He whistles sharply and the black animal stops immediately and comes to stand before him.
Palavo reaches a hand upwards and is met with a lowered head that he places his palm gently against.
"You saved my life and danced with me. If you'll take it I want you to be my friend eternally. Will you be my Cue?" He is then sent to the ground with the excited canine drenching his face in slobber.
"I think that means yes devil." His father gets a thumb up in reply, and once the newly named Cue let him go Palavo staggered to his feet and they finished the short trek. They reach cabin twelve, the outside thoroughly blanketed with grapevines worked through an intricate lattice. The inside is incredibly inviting, with a few bunk beds lining the walls and three different doors are on the back wall. The entire room colored in various shades of purple and red.
"That's the bathroom, the storage closet, and the clothes closet. I'm sure you can sort them out." Dionysus snaps his fingers and an XXXXL dog bed appears in the middle of the room and Cue happily barreled his way past to circle in then curl down into, with great contentment. I'll have a camper come check in on you in the morning, try and get some sleep kid."
"Sleep? But I'm not even-" The demigod is interrupted with a jaw cracking yawn. A wave of exhaustion sweeps through him and he staggers slightly. A large hand comes down onto his shoulder to steady him.
"Trust me, kid, using as much power as you did today it's nearly a miracle you weren't in a coma. It's definitely bedtime." All Palavo can do is nod as his bag is taken from him and he all but collapses in an impossibly soft bed. He feels a hand brush his hair back before sleep overtakes him.
" g' night."
"Night little devil." He goes to sleep with a smile on his face.
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Blissfully, the child wakes up without any bizarre pseudo prophetic dreams plaguing his mind. He is still mildly tired and Cue is peacefully snoozing so he quietly gathers clothes and toiletries and takes a blisteringly hot shower that seems to loosen a tension that had been hiding until then. Cue is awake by then and very eager to use the restroom. So Palavo hastily makes his bed and exits the cabin with Cue following dutifully. The sun has barely started to rise over the edge of the valley and the ground is covered in a fine layer of dew.
"Let's find you a good bathroom, how's that sound Cue?" Cue gives a single resolute 'woof' that has Palavo cackling as they reach an overgrown area that Cue deems worthy.
Not wanting to be rude Palavo turns around and takes a moment to enjoy the easy silence that comes with the morning.
"Yo Kid, what the shit are you doing with a fucking Hellhound?" Palavo looks to his left towards the woods as Cue barks a surprising warning towards the newcomer.
Wearing only a shawl and kilt-like piece of clothing both seemingly made of a greyish and plush deer pelt, the man is tall, just shy of seven feet, the odd silver antlers crowning over his head goes to nearly eight. He has long wild hair tangled and falling down to shadow his Gunmetal gray eyes and slightly crooked nose. Every feature and line is sharper than a razor's edge and his skin is the color of well-tanned hide. Well, some of it. The rest is scar tissue, jagged claws, and spaced punctures, there had to be hundreds of different scars on the man. The damaged kind that even old and silver still knot and rise from the other flesh. A wooden bow taller than Palavo rests easily in one hand and a quiver bursting with arrows peeks over his shoulder. He's probably the most attractive man Palavo has ever seen and he has to endure a small blush.
"He's, well, ah, my familiar." Gods that was embarrassing, he can't remember the last time he stammered like that. The man raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on his slip up.
"And how the fuck did a pint-size like you get a familiar?" Cue, having finished relieving himself, stands next to Palavo and snarls aggressively.
"Cue! Sit!" He puts a warning hand on the dog's leg and he plops down obediently, still watching the man guardedly. Something tells Palavo that this man could kill them both in an instant.
"He tried to kill me so I drove him crazy. I guess he liked it cuz he's my friend now." He raises his bright purple eyes to those steely ones and sees them widen in realization.
"Ah, you're that grape fucker's kid, he could be a scary sunnovabitch when he felt like it." Palavo can't help the little burst of laughter that comes out, the man gives a half-grin in response.
"You really like swear words don't you mister."
"What gave you that motherfucking idea?" Palavo cocks his head slightly.
"I have no motherfucking idea." The man throws his head back and laughs, a wild and strong noise that cuts itself short.
"That's the spirit kid! Too many prudes these days." The man smiles widely, seeming to have an idea.
"Hey kid, you wanna come hang out with me for a few minutes? We'll just sit and talk, promise." Normally this would have alarm bells ringing in Palavo's head. In this life, he's managed to be pretty spot on at reading people. And this man seems to be viciously wild, almost feral, Palavo likes it.
"Sure!" Even the man seems surprised.
"Wow, didn't think you'd say yes right off the bat, didn't people tell you not to follow strangers?" The kid grins as the walk, the man going purposefully slow so Palavo's much shorter stride could keep pace. Cue trots after them.
"Yep, I ignored them." The sharp man laughs again, and Palavo thinks it might be one of his favorite sounds.
"My name is Palavo, will you please tell me your name, mister?" Palavo got a grunt in return.
"Sure, just never call me fuckin' mister again. Name's Actaeon, don't forget it." Sharp. Huh, cool, greek translates itself, it never did that before. They have long since passed the forest boundary, but Palavo doesn't think anything here could be deadlier than Actaeon.
"You are really sharp so it fits." Actaeon shakes his head and a dry and long sigh leaves his throat.
"Trust me, kid, I can be pretty fucking stupid. And I've paid the price for it." He smiles wrily as he offers a hand to help the six-year-old over a small ledge.
"Besides 'Daredevil', your name fits far better, you've got the biggest goddamn pair I've ever seen." Palavo loves being a kid at times like this, he cocks his head and makes his eyes wide and curious.
"Pair of what?" Actaeon coughs and a blush rises on his skin. He looks as awkward as a seven-foot deer man can.
"Right, forgot you were so young. It means fearless." The small demigod shakes his head.
"I get scared a lot, I just know it'd be more fun to pretend I'm not. If I listened to fear then I wouldn't have Cue as my awesome dog. And you wouldn't be my brand new friend, Actaeon." The older male scratches his neck.
"Fuck, you work fast kid. You must have a shit ton of friends."
"Nope, besides Cue you're my only friend. Mom and Dad don't count, the other kids at the Vineyard didn't like me."
"Huh, their loss. We're here kid." They've reached some sort of clearing, and it's clear they have company. The only reason they aren't drowning in sound is because Actaeon raised a hand for silence.
Before them sit hunting dogs, the big and dangerous kind. Palavo thinks there must be at least three or four dozen, with nearly every variety of hound and large attack dogs. And the smallest visible it maybe five feet tall, battle-hardened things old and muscled. Covered in almost as many scars as Actaeon. Palavo loves them all instantly.
"Palavo this is my pack, the most skilled group of hunters you'll likely meet outside of Artemis' group. Pack this is Palavo and his familiar Cue, play nice, they're our new friends." They get an orchestra of excited barks and howls in response as several crouch in eager wait. Enough tails wagging that Palavo imagines a breeze. Cue at this point has read the situation enough to realize he gets to play, has crouched and is whining desperately in his eagerness. Looking at his master for permission. In turn, he looks at Actaeon who nods.
"Sure, they know how to play without getting too rough." Palavo nods to Cue as Actaeon signals to his hounds. And a massive moving mound of barking and fur soon rolls its way out of the clearing, leaving the two alone, Actaeon sits fluidly and pats the matted down grass in front of him. Palavo takes the invitation, happily plopping down.
"I can see that look in your eyes, ask."
"You're immortal aren't you?" Actaeon smirks broadly and pokes a finger into the demigod's chest.
"Explain." Palavo takes a second to straighten his thoughts.
"You aren't a god or not a full one like my Dad or the three ladies in my dream. I could feel their om-ni-po-tence." Palavo has to enunciate it slowly, not used to using this tongue to speak larger words, especially ones he never used in his previous life. Actaeon just looks amused.
"You're not a regular demigod or human either. You have eyes as old as my dad and that Chiron man, but yours have a shine of experience instead of that weird brightness they have. Besides you look really comfortable in your own skin." Actaeon just looks at him in amusement as he ruffles the head of black curls before him. Palavo fails not to blush.
"You're definitely something special kid, I'll give you that. And you're pretty spot on too. But my story is for another day. Right now I wanted to make you a deal."
"What kind of deal?" Actaeon scratched at a scar again and Palavo wonders if they itched.
"Er, well. Ah, fuck it! Basically I think some bad shit is going to go down in the next few years and I want to do something about it. I'm cursed so I can never make contact with the gods, and your powers caught my attention. I can train you to survive the shitstorm that is both just being a demigod and dealing with godly bullshit. In return I want you to be my messenger when I can't do something to be helpful."
"Swear." Actaeon blinked.
"On what?" He makes eye contact with Palavo and neither waiver.
"Swear that you won't try and double-cross me and be honest with your intentions." The man looks startled.
"Hey!? Swearing on the river Styx is fucking dangerous." A bewildered look came on Palavo's face and he shook his head, he had forgotten that even existed. He holds out his hand with an outstretched pinky.
"I don't know what that is but I meant a pinky promise if you swear that then I swear to be your friend and always be honest and work my hardest." Actaeon remains bewildered for a precious few moments, searching young purple eyes for deceit.
"Kid you have no reason to trust me, I could do so many horrible things, I could ruin your life." Palavo keeps his finger up.
"You have no reason to trust me either, and you said it. You could have hurt me, or been a monster. But you aren't, and I could be a monster too. I can break people just by laughing a little too much, I could never trust people all my life, or always wait for things to be perfect and easy. But nothing is perfect, and never easy. If I trust you now then I have a chance of being glad about it." The immortal seemed positively speechless. And a small, confused as all hell, a smile bloomed.
"Guess it's a fucking leap of faith time then." A far larger digit comes to curl around Palavo's, and they wind it tight enough to hurt the child and hold it. Actaeon speaks again.
"I promise to be a faithful friend and teacher to you, to never lie and never betray you." Palavo can't help but feel touched and responds in kind.
"I promise to be a faithful friend and student. To learn and listen to the best of my abilities. I promise to never lie or betray you." Palavo felt something tight in his chest after he said that. And he realizes it is fear. A sudden fear that this could all go sideways if he does tell the truth, that Actaeon could abandon him.
A hand brushes his shoulder. "Palavo? What's wrong kid, we just did that vow remember, you can tell me." It must have shown on his face, and he looks at the so very warm expression that melts like butter across that scarred face. He'd rather find out now than later if he made a mistake.
"There is something I've never told anyone. It's big and dangerous, and I should have thought of it. I can tell you, but you can back out now if you want." Those grey eyes are practically solid steel with that strength and resolution shining through. Palavo yelps lightly when he gets a rather painful flick to the forehead.
"Leap of faith remember, no backing out. Whatever you got kid, I'll listen, and see if I can help. I'm with you." That tightness is nearly gone, overwhelmed by pleasant heat, like a sun in his chest, shining brightly. He closes his eyes and grabs Actaeon's hand and squeezes tightly.
"What if-What if I told you about a child that was born with the memories of a past life." His hand is squeezed back. He keeps his eyes closed because if he opens them he'll cry.
"If you told me that I'd be a little surprised, but I'd keep listening." Yep, definitely not opening his eyes.
"It's a very long story, and it ends here," Palavo tells him the story. The whole truth as he knows it. Leap of faith, geronimo.
How was that for a first chapter? I did a ton of research into greek mythology for this story and I don't regret it. Next chapter will be setting up for a time skip and introducing a few characters. I would love any ideas or constructive criticism you might have to give. Also for this work I decided every chapter title will be song lyrics so if there is any you'd think would make a great title feel free to suggest them, if I pick yours I will be sure to give you credit!
P.s: If you figure out which myth Actaeon is from I'll be super impressed!
-Nerdist out-