UNDER the unblemished night sky that shines down beauty from the heavens above to the island forever condemned to be both everywhere and nowhere, a garden of luminescent moonlace twinkles and casts a silver glow upon the open land. Freshwater waves gently lap at the pristine white beaches that surround the entirety of the island; water that is never too cold and never too hot, a perfect balance that feels unnatural. On one side of the island lay a grove of magnificent and ancient cedar trees that seem to be older than the island itself, with the middle of the island inhabited by four glorious fountains, satyrs adorning each one as water pours out of their reed pipes endlessly, as if forever playing music lost to the ears of any who could be listening.
Luscious swaths of green grass bound across the small hills that blend into rocky outcrops from which the mouths of caves form, wherein objects such as a loom, harp, and easel are present and look outwards towards the immaculate landscape of the island. From the mouths of the caves on the ground level form footpaths worn down from millennia of use. They form sweeping meanders to the wonderful fountains and the ancient grove, but the widest and most worn path is that from the western shoreline to the glowing moonlace gardens.
In the gardens sits a woman, spade in hand, tending to the expanse of flowers in front of her, growing it slowly by the night. She is both plain and exquisite at the same time, with dark almond eyes and hair of caramel beset upon her timeless face. A flowing white chiton rests upon her body, and she glimmers in the beauty of her flowers.
Here sits Calypso, upon her island of paradise and her prison. A blessing and a curse, for a fate that could have been so much worse. Here, she finds her happiness in the little things from which she can forget about the life she has lived, the life she is currently living, and the life that she forever will live. Long has she put to rest the notion of counting her days from within this prison, as the millennia muddle together on the island where time acts strangely.
No sooner does Calypso finish placing the moonlace seedlings does a floating watering pot come to rest next to her. From this point she takes to watering and caring for every one of her needy moonlace plants. The water pours over her hand, as she lets it splash out and spray around the soil of each flower as it absorbs the nectar of nature. As she runs out of water, she simply twirls behind her to where a new pot of water hovers in the air, waiting to be plucked by her graceful hands, leaving the empty watering pot on the footpath she walks along. Here the empty watering pot is taken away by an invisible force, drifting off to the fountains in the middle of the island to be refilled for the next pirouette of a transfer. The process is elegant, like a spontaneous dance that imbues grace and grandeur.
Finished with her dance, she wanders along the familiar footpath towards the western beachfront where the sky is darker than the eastern, lays upon a blanket that was not there before and gazes out at her freshwater ocean and the twinkling stars above. There she will rest for an hour at most before retiring for the night. For this is the realization of Calypso's punishment, the culmination of her toils for the day. Here she is the most content, the most happy, and the most free – here on this late night after all her hard work of the day is done, where she can sit and stretch without a care in the world as her day is complete. She languidly sips her last glass of wine, that exists even with no vineyards present in Ogygia, and consumes a date or three, taking pleasure in the sweet, sticky taste.
This is where she takes solace in the punishment the gods have bestowed upon her, for she is free of any extenuating fate and almost completely secluded from the gods that condemned her to isolation. And she is happy, somehow, in this lonely world that the Fates decreed would be her prison, with her curse to bear seeing hero after hero wash ashore only for her to fall in love with them and see them leave; she is happy nonetheless, at least in this present moment. For night will end and day will rise, and the process will repeat again. While she may decide to work on her loom and weave a new blanket or another white chiton, it will always result in her sitting upon this western beach, feeling truly free and accepting of the curse she endures.
However, is this the degree of happiness that Calypso has resigned herself to after having fallen so low with Odysseus, as she finally felt the reality of the curse she forever suffered and the eternal punishment that was given to her? Perhaps Calypso will never truly not be lonely, but she can, however, be happy.
After all, one must imagine Sisyphus happy.
/ / /
A soft breeze rustled against the white curtains that covered the cold rock window of Calypso's bedroom, as the morning sunlight slowly crept in. Beautiful crystals that adorned the walls and climbed up to coat the ceilings glowed elegantly as the twilight refracted off of them; the white silk curtain captured the fleeting color of dawn as it transformed into a tapestry consisting of the rich and vibrant colors of bronze, yellow, and red.
Here, Calypso's invisible companions began to wake and hustle about. Silently, they took to their tasks to prepare their master for the morning. The kitchen began to spur with life as the oak logs that sat in the fireplace suddenly had flames dancing atop them and the sound of crackling wood began to fill the kitchen, and fresh meat was also laid out in case Calypso wished to prepare her dinner herself. Wall sconces that lined the passageways, hidden from the natural sunlight, slowly began to glow orange as a path was made down towards the bedroom. A freshly washed, neatly folded white chiton floated silently down the hallway, appearing orange in the torchlight. The servant brought it to rest quietly on to the table which held a stack of blank papyrus scrolls waiting to be covered in inked words that would form fantastical stories or beautiful drawings of the world she could no longer visit.
A small silver tray slowly floated into Calypso's room and sat to rest on the wooden nightstand, carrying a loaf of fresh, warm bread and a silver chalice of water. The white silk curtains were slowly drawn to bring in the fresh morning sunlight to the room and to mark the start of a new day. With the curtains drawn, the light was fully free to reflect and refract against all the different crystals that lined the cave walls and ceilings and created a kaleidoscope of colors. The white cotton blanket of Calypso's bed appeared as a myriad of colors, illuminating the woman's slowly waking body.
Stretching away the morning fatigue, she yawned and moved a few stray strands of hair out of her face before reaching for the chalice of water.
"Thank you," she muttered, mainly to herself.
Long has she moved away the thoughts that these servants could actually aid in the isolation. She had tried for a few years, perhaps a decade or two, to communicate with the invisible servants after Hera took pity on her. While it was clear that they had some form of self-awareness, it seemed to only appear whenever something was done that displeased Calypso.
Her watering pot had just run out of water.
"Shame, I had thought I could get a few more plants out of you."
Turning around to go back to the fountains, Calypso bumped into another watering pot, spilling its contents over the ground.
"What the–Gods, where did this come from?"
A peacock feather slowly fell from the sky in front of Calypso's face. With shaking hands, she plucked it out of the sky. "Hera?"
Another watering pot appeared at the gates of her garden, floating in the air while slightly bobbing up and down, as if there was someone walking with it. Calypso looked down in her hands at the peacock feather.
"Oh my gods – Lady Hera, my thanks upon you." Calypso turned to acknowledge whoever was carrying the watering pot, "And my thanks upon you, whoever you are."
Calypso thought the silence was merely out of courtesy.
Placing down the chalice on the silver tray, Calypso shed the blanket off of herself completely before slowly climbing out of her bed, feet coming to rest on a soft and luscious sheepskin carpet that protected her feet from the cold and hard rock floor of the cave. She grasped her chiton and dressed herself, taking pleasure in the feeling of fresh cotton against her fair skin. Grabbing a golden colored belt, she moved back towards her nightstand and ripped at the still warm loaf of bread, taking a few pieces and eating them while she fastened her belt around her waist. She slipped on her sandals and walked out of her bedroom to begin her day.
She smiled as she saw fresh meat laid out on the kitchen countertops, she had been wanting to prepare a meal herself for the past few days. While the urge to prepare a meal was indeed present and upfront, the desire to garden this early in the morning was greater. If worse came to worst, her servants would never let her skip a meal – Calypso had learned that after she had fallen into a depression and attempted to toss any prepared food away.
A silver tray smashed against the side of the cave wall, as dates were being thrown into the fireplace. Calypso picked up the perfectly cooked steak and threw it with as much force as she could muster out of the window.
"I do not wish to eat! Stop giving me food!"
Another silver tray simply started floating towards her, once again bearing fresh dates and a hot steak.
It never made it to the table.
She walked towards the water pot, one that was always kept full and fresh and clean, refilled her chalice, and grabbed a bottle of wine before she began to head towards her garden.
The birds that decided to call Ogygia their home flocked to Calypso as she left her cave home. A beautiful white dove chirped happily as she saw her friend, and Calypso extended her hand happily for the dove to come rest on.
"Hello, my pretty, how are you?" She greeted, as she continued walking with the bird in her hand, while a parrot flew to rest on her shoulder. "Oh, hello to you too!"
The walk to her garden was enjoyable with the somewhat one-sided conversations between Calypso and her avian friends.
/ / /
Calypso was tending to her daylight garden, a field of violets, hyacinths, and more, when she first felt something amiss. A slight rumble was felt through the earth, halting her progress of the new home for the daffodil in her hand.
"Well, that is new," she mused out loud.
She paused all work for a few seconds, before humming to herself and completing the daffodil's new home. Reaching for her watering pot, she welcomed the daffodil to the family, and blessed it with some water (atop an actual blessing of growth).
Perhaps, Calypso thought, I should take that as a sign to move on to the next project. Setting down her watering pot and spade, she dusted off her knees as well as removing any specks of dirt that landed on her chiton and turned to head back to her cave.
The watering pot and spade slowly lifted off the ground and followed her exit, while a parakeet flew down to greet her. The animals were much more jovial today, and it pleased Calypso. She rather enjoyed when her friends visited her as frequently as they currently were.
Reaching the cave entrance, her parakeet friend followed her while Calypso conversed with him as she entered her so-called "gazing room". Facing west, this room had perhaps the best of views from any location on Ogygia. The room was located at the highest part of her cave system and opened elegantly from the base of the cave to its roof, granting a sheltered birds eye view of western Ogygia. A tall and towering poplar grew to the midpoint of the cave's opening, where a few birds made their nests knowing Calypso came here often. The parakeet flew over to an available branch near the loom and chirped, as if to beckon Calypso closer.
"Come closer. I will not attack, my dear." Calypso purred, as she leaned against her loom, "The view here most likely rivals those from the Blest, if I may be so bold. I wish but to simply show you one of the most pleasant views on all of Ogygia, Odysseus."
"I must warn you, Calypso," Odysseus began, "that my wife awaits me in Ithaca."
Calypso huffed, "Can a lady not offer a pleasantry in your trying time? Come, I can even sing for you."
And so Odysseus relented, and moved towards Calypso while they gazed out at the setting sun. Calypso's singing filled the silent air, as she worked her magic on her guest.
Calypso traipsed towards the loom, grabbing a chalice of water from the air, and sipped from it. She sat in front of the loom and gazed out the window, setting the chalice down before noticing that a silver tray had also been brought in with the chalice, an apple resting atop it. Plucking it with her hand, she inspected it before humming and taking a bite out the juiciest looking section.
Thoughts of weaving left far behind her, Calypso was content to grant herself a short respite from her chores while she sat and enjoyed her snack. She sang to herself while tapping against the surface of the loom, the unfinished tapestry bouncing beneath her fingertips. At this point in time, Calypso was content. The parakeet from before was conversing with other birds that were nested in the poplar, and she could only imagine what they were talking about.
Time passed by Calypso – her moments when she would feel happy or sing always seeming out of time – before she once again felt the same rumble through the earth. Her song stopped, and she noticed that the birds had ceased all communication as well. In fact, Ogygia itself was oddly quiet. The island was completely silent, which it had never been before. The quietest she had ever known it to be was after Odysseus left, when her cries of rage and sadness caused her creatures to keep a wide berth around her for the ensuing months.
She stood up slowly, and a chill went through her. This was unnatural and abnormal; thoughts that she did something to offend the gods filled her head. Had Athena come for revenge after all these centuries? She peered out of the cave, attempting to see if anything had changed outside. An audible gasp betrayed Calypso. Something was falling from the sky, a trail of thick smoke in its wake.
Meteors do not fall on Ogygia, thought Calypso.
She steeled herself, before turning around and running out of her cave to head towards the falling object. She heard whistling as she finally exited her abode. Turning quickly to start down the path that led towards the western beach, she heard the whistling grow in intensity rapidly. Calypso could only watch as the falling object made an impact, the deafening whistle replaced by a loud explosion, as a geyser erupted in the far distance.
So, here we go. I've never written fanfiction before (or written any form of fiction before – I'm an essay and research paper writer by heart) and Calypso and Ogygia was always supremely intriguing to me as a place that held a lot of untapped potential. I am hoping through this fic to explore Calypso as a character a lot more thoroughly and intensely. I am terribly sorry if you do not like Perlypso as a ship, but I feel that the pairing is the best way for me to explore Calypso as a character. However, if I feel as I am writing this that what I have written really does not support the two as a romantic ship, I may very well change it. Who knows? I am a sucker for angst.