If you've ever had a job, or you just live in a family where things need to be done, you should know that you'll still have chores even if you lose all your limbs. Bethany Hamilton got bit by a shark and she still had to do chores, and Melantriche—even though she's never heard of Bethany Hamilton—was no different. At least, she got the easier chore of cutting plums for plum pudding. Work, work, work. It was all anyone ever seemed to do around here, not that Melantriche dared complain. It's only, she thought immortals spent their time doing much nicer things like singing and dancing and feasting. Karana raised her eyebrows at this. "Frivolous things, you mean."
"I suppose."
"Huh! And you'd think the hierarchy in the spirit world would be any different? No, the rich gods, like Lord Apollo, they can do such things. Little deities like us? We scramble around doing whatever they want, at least if we want to get by..." it's hard to understand what an immortal means by "wanting to get by" if there's nothing to get by to, but oh well. That was that, and by early afternoon Melantriche was sick of the smell of plum pudding. One of the 2 girls earlier waddled in carrying a fresh basket of laundry and Karana stopped to help Melantriche hoist herself up. "I guess I could say now, you're plum useless!" She snickered at her own joke. "You should help Brisa fold all that over there. Even a useless person can do laundry." Even though it was a joke it still sort of stung, and so as Melantriche hopped out on her new crutch she swore she would make the best of today. They made that crutch especially for her, and it was especially touching when she remembered most of them, being immortals, probably never hurt themselves in the way Melantriche did. She'd never broken a bone before, and now she was rapidly learning how cumbersome it was. The pain, though now dull, was incessant no matter what she was doing, though she was determined not to complain about it, or get embarrassed about people giving her funny looks when she hopped out into the open. The little girl, Brisa, was carrying the load of laundry out into the open. She pointed to the top of the hill where a lone tree was standing.
"I'm going up there." She mumbled. "You don't gotta come with me if you don't want." Melantriche shook her head, trying to ignore the idea that the girl might be finding her a nuisance. She put on a bright smile.
"I'm sure it'll be no trouble for me to get up there myself. I'm quite tough." The girl only nodded. She turned and strode up the hill, Melantriche quickly finding it was a great chore to follow behind. It wasn't that it was that steep of a hill, only she'd never had to balance herself with a crutch before. She nearly lost balance once. The girl threw a glance backwards. "I'm fine, I'm fine." By the time they crested the hill she was dripping sweat, and she was pretty sure the girl was pretending not to notice, either out of annoyance or courtesy she was glad. Melantriche, always a burden...
The wind was fresher there. Athens was always so very humid in the summer, so that women forwent the modesty of keeping windows closed for the chance of even a little bit of wind. This island was no different, if even a little more hot even though Melantriche was sure it was almost autumn. The girl was sitting down at the foot of the tree, next to 5 already folded linens. Melantriche hobbled over.
"So... is this... what you do on your spare time?" She paused to look at her. She was a tiny girl, couldn't have been more than 10 or 11, but it was easy to tell she'd one day become a pretty lady. Her cheeks were round and rosy from work and her hair tied back was a nice buttercream color.
"Yes..." she mumbled. "I like it better up here, so I often do my chores here."
Melantriche nodded. "It's very nice." She plopped down next to her, stretching her leg out so it wouldn't hurt as much. That cast was heavy. "It's hard to believe you could consider it work in such a place." Brisa set the basket between them and they set off to work. While her hands were busy, Melantriche remembered that this wasn't the first time they had met, only the first time they'd spoken. How funny that, that she and Brisa went to the baths together, ate together, even slept close together and didn't even have a word between them. Maybe just because Karana ate up most of Melantriche's attention, but she still felt a bit bad regardless. She paused to sniff a linen. Shouldn't she try to converse with her? They were all alone after all. Before she could even get a word out Brisa spoke.
"You... lived in Athens before, didn't you, Ma'am?"
"Oh, just Melantriche is fine." Ma'am? Was she getting on in years or what? Brisa frowned.
"Mela—Melanree..."
"Is it really so hard to say?" Brisa smiled sheepishly, an expression that fit her childish loveliness very well. Melantriche shared the same expression. Melantriche. Black-haired. It was her father who gave her that name. Flushed, she touched a dark stray tendril on her shoulder. It was a little... pretentious, wasn't it? Her name, I mean. "Then... you can just call me... Melanie."
"Hm... ok."
"So, what was the question? Oh, Athens, yes, I used to live there."
"Is it really as bad as people say? Do they really shut their women away and never let them go outside?" Melantriche opened her mouth, but was speechless. She wondered if Brisa was making a joke, but judging from the girl's serious expression she decided it must be true. A flush came across Melantriche's face as she struggled to find a proper response.
"Well golly, if you put it like that... then yes, I guess that's true. But it's not so bad. I was always quite content being where I was."
"I knew it! Is the grass there very dry? Are there lots of bees?"
"Well, compared to here yes, the grass is prickly."
"Wow," Brisa mumbled. "I could never live in such a place. We anthousai like soft grass much better."
"Well, to be truthful, I don't think I could abide it either." Now that she had become so spoiled with all this lovely weather and activity, staying indoors every day was an idea that made her feel somewhat nauseous. But she was glad Brisa was so interested in her homeland, it made her feel a little less lonely. For a while after that Brisa and Melantriche has become surprisingly close, through the former pestering her with questions Melantriche was only too happy to satiate, like, if you stay inside all day then how do the chores get done? How will you ever manage any exercise? Or, how will you ever find a boy you like? Aren't men there so busy? How do they have time to philosophize everything? That, coupled with Brisa's new nickname for her made her feel proud, like a big sister. By the time the basket's contents were neatly folded her head was swimming with all sorts of inquiries.
"How do you think the cattle can stand it if all they have to eat is prickly grass?"
"I'm not sure, to be honest."
"If you have no chores to do, what do you do on your free time?"
"Well, I had lots of dolls that my father bought for me, and we had a big garden with lots of flowers where I could sit around in all the time. And I had a friend who I could eat lunch with there, and we'd talk to all the time and tell funny stories."
"Really? Where is she now?" They'd been walking back to the building with the sun going down and the air hot and thick with the smell of plum pudding. Now Melantriche faltered in her already clumsy walking. Being with Brisa—who was considerate enough to carry the whole load herself—had given her a happy reprieve from the weight in her chest that had been stuck there for a very long while. It was only just starting to uplift itself when Melantriche remembered. Lyra, that lovely woman with her bright smile and supple muscles and kind temperament? She was gone. Somewhere far far away where she'd never be able to reach. And no matter how hard she would try to convince herself, things were not fine, would never be fine, maybe even for after she was dead and gone. She had to remember that, so that she wouldn't be in for a big surprise when later she was struck by lightning, or some other unpleasant thing. "Melanie."
"Please, Brisa, no more questions for now." She pressed her fingers against her aching temple, so absorbed in her own thoughts she hadn't registered Brisa's hushed, mildly panicked tone.
"No, Melanie, it's..." she turned around and was blinded by gold hair. Immediately she lurched back, bumping against Brisa and causing her to spill half of the folded linens onto the grass.
"My God!" She exclaimed without thought. Apollo had his arms crossed, giving her a pointed glare.
"I'm right here."
"Y-yes, I know, I'm sorry, I—I just—," she ran a hand through her hair, more unruly than she would've liked and wiped her sweaty palms against the front of her dress. She surely looked a state. Casting a nervous glance backwards she noticed the damage. "Oh—oh dear..."
"It's ok," Brisa grunted, "I've got it." Before Melantriche could spit out another word the girl swooped in, threw all the cloth into the basket, and took off waddling down the hill in a humorously fast way. Or it would have been, if she hadn't left Melantriche alone with the one man in the world that could absolutely destroy her, mentally and physically. Gulping, she slowly turned back to the being in front of her, his eyes glinting.
"Let's take a walk, why don't we?"
~*~
"So you go by Melanie now." It was dusk now. They'd gone a little ways away from the village now, on a path through the fields. It was a lovely evening, with the gold-orange glow of the sky shining against the freshly-cut grass. To be able to walk like this would be perfect, if only 1: Melantriche was now a cripple, and 2: because neither of them had spoken until now, and his sudden observation caused her to jump. She laughed quietly, nervously to herself as if to call herself foolish.
"No, that's just... I allow her to call me that because she can't pronounce my real name." Quickly she added, "She's a lovely child."
"Hm." He stared straight ahead as if nothing were wrong, as if she weren't there. "I like Melanie." Was this some kind of test? To see if she'd say something wrong or lose her cool completely? It was almost enough to make her hate him. Only, it's hard to hate someone when they're totally and utterly out-of-this-world gorgeous. Also, Melantriche was terrified of him. She still hadn't forgot his threat from the night earlier, and she was certain that she would have to stay on her toes if she wanted to keep her life. Easier said than done, though. Where were they going? Somewhere outside of town so that he could feel free to torment her as much as he liked? Or kill her. Maybe he would just keep walking forever and ever and she would be forced to follow until her already-feeble legs crumbled. "So... how are you enjoying this new place?"
"Oh, it's perfectly lovely. I've... I've made lots of new friends, and I feel very productive, and, well, it's very beautiful here. Very hot, too."
"Yes, it is. But I've found I'm more accustomed to warm weather. India is a much more hospitable place than Greece, don't you agree?"
"India? What's that?" He rolled his eyes, Melantriche then inwardly cursing herself for such a stupid response.
"Another world to you, I suppose. You Athenian women don't get out much, I hear."
"Oh... yes, that's a bit true."
"'A bit'?"
"N-no, I mean, very much true." He made a confirmative sound. How funny, this. Both of them talking as if they were mutuals. Undoubtedly this was a trap, but Melantriche couldn't help but feel less awkward as they walked even more without speaking. Finally she worked up the courage to take up the conversation. "The truth is... I feel much more free here than I ever did in my homeland." A bit more silence. She flushed inward, wondering if that was inappropriate, or a cheesy thing to say.
"You don't say." Apollo answered back passively. Encouraged, Melantriche nodded vigorously.
"Isn't it so funny, how one can feel happier having nothing than when they had lots of things? Like a house, or dolls, or servants of their own..." she paused. That sounded a bit judgmental.
"No, I don't, to be honest. I'd say you're luckier than most of us." Ha! Who said Apollo didn't have a sense of humor? But after glancing furtively at his stoic expression, she decided that the sun god wasn't, in fact, the joking type. She wanted to ask him about his vague response, but decided she had talked too much already and didn't dare.
It's funny how some people always look down at their feet when they walk but still trip over things because they're not paying attention. That's just what Melantriche did when they came across a particularly large-rooted tree. Worst part, it was her broken foot that got the most of it as she sprawled face-forward into the dirt. Blunt pain exploded inside her cast. "Ow! Ow, ow, ow..." she glanced up to see Apollo standing over her, with a distasteful expression. Panicked, she waved a hand around. "I-it's alright! It's nothing, I'm fine." Her crutch had tumbled a few feet away, which she crawled over to grab. "You can go on ahead, don't worry about me, I'll just... uh..." she was midway ready to take hold of the crutch when she paused at the feeling of her cast crackling. She looked back at the thing and discovered it broken in half, which would have been alarming except for that somehow, her foot no longer hurt. Cautious, she wiggled her toes and no pain spread into her. Woah. She threw an award glance in Apollo's direction and he rolled his eyes.
"Are you just going to sit there like a fool or are you coming?" Not waiting for a reply, he turned and began to walk away. Still in shock it took her a minute to work her mouth before she could sputter,
"Yes, yes, thank you!" She sprang up with her legs newly vigorous, grabbed her crutch and scrambled after him.