Celebwen Telcontar: Here we are. Another chapter. Balrog, stop trying to eat the table!
Balrog: It's schist! I like schist! It tastes like gneiss, but not like gneiss!
Celebwen Telcontar: You, Balrog, are crazy.
Balrog: I know, I know. No need to flatter me.
Brianna walked down the aisle, hearing the bells behind her and swinging the incense lamp. Gregory McPherson was getting inducted today as the newest Archbishop of the Denver region. She closed her eyes momentarily as she listened to the choir belting out their songs. Then, to one side, she saw a man. He was wearing a tuxedo, and had golden hair, his eyes like small pieces of blue flame. His face was tanned and weather-beaten; his mouth lined and hard. All in all, he was the most handsome man she had ever seen, but he also looked incredibly familiar. Habit caused her to continue to walk forward, her eyes locked onto his. She continued to swing the incense, chanting in Latin, and heard the bells continue.
Brianna didn't remember anything about the ceremony, aside from the warrior's eyes boring into hers. Who was he? She knew him from somewhere, she was certain. At the end of McPherson becoming the Archbishop, she all but ran to rip off her vestments and meet the warrior.
"Hello. I don't believe we've met. I'm Admiral David Shepherd from the Navy Seals," Mystery Man said, holding out a hand. She smiled as memories hit her.
"I'm Bris…Brianna, Achilles," she said quietly, clasping his hand.
"Briseis. It's been too long," he whispered, scooping her in his arms. Hers went around his neck and he lightly kissed her cheek. "Let me take you home," he said.
"I'd like that," she replied as he led her to his car, the congregation looking at them as if they were from Mars.
They were leaving tomorrow. He wouldn't get to see war unless he went now. Sweating, he reached for his cousin's armor, buckled it on, and picked up the shield. It felt heavy, and nearly slipped from his sweaty grasp. Now he was sure Achilles would make him a Myrmidon! He reached for the sword, and slipped it into the sheath in the back of the armor. He felt awkward and bumbling, but he was sure that would pass. He stalked out and began running as the Greeks screamed. He led the Myrmidons through the camp, hearing them scream.
He engaged a warrior in combat, and realized his mistake. The man was faster, more experienced. He clumsily blocked and the shield fell from his numbed arm. He blocked with the sword, and felt a searing pain across his throat.
What was happening? He felt as if he had swallowed a live coal. He fell to the ground, and the Greeks and Trojans gave way. He saw the dumbfounded look on the warrior's face as he pulled off the helmet. Rage and disbelief clouded Eudorus' eyes. Odysseus looked sad and defeated. The warrior simply looked shocked. He reached for a spear, and Patroclus felt a searing pain just below his sternum. Then all faded to grey and white.
He stood on the sands, looking down at his body. He should go… if he could. Was such a thing possible? He tried, but wound up sinking in the sand. He saw his body dragged back, saw Achilles face as he struck Eudorus, and then his lover. He didn't realize one man could go so insane in one instant. Then, he saw a pyre being built, and he saw his body being placed on it. He saw it go up in flames, and then warmth was spreading from his body, and he felt as if he was going to fall to the center of the Earth.
He was standing by a river, and handed two coins to a man in a boat.
Patrick jolted awake, sending his pet ferret scrambling for cover.
"What in all hell was all that about?" he asked rhetorically, seeing his roommate sit up slowly.
"Hey man, you 'kay? You look like paraffin, man!"
"I'll be fine, Dan. It's just a bad dream."
"Hey, man! My sista, she's got the Dreams too. Whatdayah use? 'Shrooms? What kind?"
"Oh, great. No, Dan. I don't use mushrooms. These dreams come of their own accord."
"Alright, man. If you're sure. Talk 'bout em. My sista talks bout her all th'time. An' she's not crazy. Cass is fine!"
"Right. I'll believe you. Your sister is one of the sanest people I know," he said to keep the crazy hippie drug-addict he had as a roommate from waking up the whole dorm again. It was common knowledge that Daniel Hastings believed himself to be one of the youngest of six children, born into royalty, but in fact was an only child of a crazy homeless mother.
Celebwen Telcontar: What did you think of that one?
Balrog: Patroclus, plus a side of Briseis/Achilles. How nice.
Celebwen Telcontar: I'm glad you liked it.
Balrog: The mushiness was making me choke.
Celebwen Telcontar: No, that was the schist you ate. Please review people, please!
