Don't hate me TOO much for this unreasonable delay… same as I stated many times before life is hectic and I lost motivation. Reasons I never keep reviewers for long. I'd probably be more popular if I could maintain consistency. Little comment: Normally I try to cram as much historically accurate information as I can, but there are some aspects in the movie that just piss in the face of mythology and time-accurate information. I try to strike a balance of staying within mythology and historical accuracy to the best of my ability while balancing canon. In this aspect especially I like constructive criticism. Like Sheep, if you are still around. Your input is very helpful and I've tried hard to take your advice to heart. Also, a pun is written later that wouldn't make sense in Greek as it involves Greek letters spelling an English word. But shush. I recognize it as a shitty joke, bear with me!
And as always, while I am trying to follow the original Reopened Wounds as closely as I can without being a complete carbon copy, this is also a fan-run fic. Wanna see something happen? Post it.
I fastened the grey chiton that was laid out for me. The edges were embroidered with a deep blue to add a touch of color, with decorative swirls and shapes sewn up to my knees. The garment was too large, and I was pulling a cream sash tightly across my waist and under my bust to keep it in place. I was still fumbling with tying the one across my chest when I saw movement from the edge of my vision. I turned to see Hercules shuffling into the room, avoiding my gaze,
"S-sorry I didn't know you were still getting dressed," He was standing just inside the door, shifting his feet and wringing his fingers nervously when he turned as if to leave,
"Just tying a sash, you don't have to leave. Here, help me finish," I offered, trying to ease his seemingly perpetual anxiety. It seemed to settle him, and he grabbed the ends of the fabric to fasten the garment. His knuckles brushed against the side of my breast while trying to tie the sash, and I bit my lip to suppress the surprisingly intense desire that flashed across my thoughts, calm down girl.
"Your hair is really pretty when it's down," He said, as he brushed some damp hair from my face, and I moved a hand to my head, realizing I had yet to fuss with the mess. It hadn't dried enough for my unruly curls to take over half the city, but I felt a blush heat my face nonetheless.
"Thank you," I smiled. Hercules dropped his arms after he finished fastening the fabric. It was loose, but the long bands of fabric were doing their job at making me look like I wasn't emaciated by giving it some shape.
"It's funny, your eyes look kinda grey," He stepped closer to me, brushing more hair away, leaving his hand resting under my ear, playing with my hearlobe with his lumb. I shrugged, pressing my lips together into a coy smile. The touch brought a flush to my cheeks, and I tilted my head against his hand. My eyes were a strange bluish-greyish-violet color, and often looked different depending on what I wore or if I applied any pigments to my face. They didn't change, just more of an illusion. "very pretty," he finished, placing his lips against mine. I sighed against his mouth, feeling my heart begin to race,
"Sorry. Hope I'm not… interrupting… anything," I heard Alexina's voice coming from the doorway. Crimson flushed crossed her cheeks as Hercules and I quickly side-stepped away from each other. Is this some recurring trope in my life?
"No, I was just finishing getting into something clean," I held my hands up defensively, doing little to ease the tension. She eyed us skeptically, but gathered up the last of the linen, and I bit my lip desperately wishing for an escape from this awkwardness.
"Do you need anything else?" She asked, shifting towards the door, clearly uncomfortable.
"No, thank you… For, everything," I saw her eyes flicker down momentarily before she walked briskly from the room. I let out a sigh of relief. "All we need now is for Phil to come charging through!" I mumbled, pinching the bridge of my nose,
"Well… actually…" Hercules started, rubbing the back of his neck. "He should be here soon. Press conference about the whole end-of-the-world-canceled thing." I look at him incredulously, before letting out an aggravated sigh. Figures. We survive the end of the world, and even then neither of us could catch a break, both of us constantly haunted by old bosses. At least his I could tolerate.
"I thought you already did that?" I remarked, "Let's see… a few hours ago." Not trying to hide the irritation in my tone,
"I know I know, Phil only told me about the Daily Hornet, but I guess someone saw you with me when coming back from everything, and saw us together a lot at the party. One plus one-"
"Equals the letter 'purple' to the media," I had the feeling he was implying that he was trying to squash rumors before they started. The famous hero, with many aspects of his life known to the public, seen with a strange woman no one knows anything about? I could only imagine what indecorous rumors would rise. But even with lurid rumors threatening to rise, I still didn't want the world to know who I was. Between how crazy that girl Helen was, and how Hades tried to use me as his weakness, I feared what others would do with this knowledge.
"They're already trying to call you 'the mysterious lover' luckily Phil was able to convince them not to run the headline in exchange for an exclusive interview with me… umm…" he faltered, and I bit my lip having a feeling I knew what was coming next,
"umm…" I prompted, gesturing with my hands,
"And… you…" He finished, flinching as if preparing for an argument. I looked at him incredulously, and stammered for a few moments before managing to gather my thoughts into sounds that at least resembled language,
"Why the hell would you promise that?! You didn't think to ask me first?" I bit.
"Well I didn't want the tabloids calling you the nasty things they had planned… they sell a lot of issues making me look available so hopeful fangirls will buy everything up. If I'm suddenly known as 'taken' there goes their cash cow so they went for controversy instead… it was the only way to convince them not to sell the issue. They wouldn't even take an interview with me as a good enough deal…" I was startled he was able to spit out that entire tirade without tripping over his words.
"E.T.A on Phil?" I inquired, to dodge having to give my opinion on an awkward interview I was volunteered for.
"E.T.A?" An awkward gape must have twisted my features as his face quickly flushed red. I bit my lip trying to reign in my mood, or at least mask it better.
"I mean I know you lived on an island, but did you also live under a rock on that island? Estimated-Time-of-Arrival" I clarified, gesturing impatiently with my hands. I had no interest in this interview, and it was amazing how quickly the news of it twisted my mood. Knowing the pretense of his visit, I was not looking forward to Phil either. I could tolerate him well enough, but when it came to managing Wonderboy's popularity escapades he was near unbearable. I was still a little bit irritated at him for interrupting our date over the same popularity nonsense. He was already the most famous name in Greece, aside from the Gods themselves. What more was he expecting of him? And now dragging me into this farce?
"S-sorry…" I saw the dejected expression cross his features and relaxed, even without trying he managed to make me feel guilty for acting so cross.
"Look I'm sorry. We've been through a lot, the last thing I'm ready for is for everyone to know who I am, never mind having to tell those blood-sucking leeches myself," I tried to ease my tone, and relax my body so I stopped resembling an animal in a trap. I sat on the bed, and sighed deeply.
"They're not all bad. Okay most. But not all,"
"Yeah if I recall correctly the Daily Hornet is one of the nastiest tabloids out there. I don't have to read to know they'll take the tiniest bit of information and twist it. 'shoe found in downtown! A serial killer with a foot fetish on the loose? Are you safe?'" I mocked, deepening my voice placing a hand on my chest feigning genuine terror.
"New lead on what is now being called the foot-killer! Footprints in sand! Can this man turn invisible? Is he a God playing tricks on us? Eris herself?" Hercules replied, using an equally dramatic voice. I laughed, far harder than the joke merited. I must have sounded ridiculous, laughing hard enough to make my stomach cramp and my chest hurt, make my eyes water and my nose run; the noise ridiculous enough to make Hercules burst into laughter in return. We sat there in the bedroom, laughing like idiots for a good minute before collecting ourselves.
"I know their reputation is… dishonest to say the least. But they were blackmailing me, and even if I offered to just buy all the issues they would run another article about how I was 'silencing the media'" He sighed, grasping my hands, "Just… put up with this? For me?" He asked, giving me an exaggerated frown quivering his bottom lip,
"Oh stop that! Fine. You got me. As long as we keep it quick," I replied, pulling my hand from his and crossing my arms across my chest. "And you never answered my question earlier. When should we expect Phil?"
"About an hour. We asked them to give us time to come home and eat some food,"
"Well the bathwater isn't quite cold yet. Why don't you take a bath to relax before this adventure? Might even be able to have time to eat after, if you hurry."
We were expecting an hour, but were only given a bit more than a quarter hour; unless the sun broke and the sundial was lying, because it felt like five. Given the last forty-eight hours, wouldn't surprise me. Hercules was still trying to finish getting dressed after a hurried bath, and despite a pair of grumbling stomachs Phil corralled us onto Pegasus after a surprisingly short ten-minute argument and only calling me some objective pronoun once. A record!
"Okay you feathered pony, take it easy. You owe me one," I threatened, less than enthused about the choice of Air Panic Airlines over a normal horse. You would think that was the abnormal choice the way Wonderboy looked at me when I suggested it. Pegasus snorted at me, and I was clueless to if he was agreeing with, or taunting, me.
"I think we can take it easy on the stunts, just this once, "Hercules chimed. Pegasus snorted again, and I understood him about as well as I understood those Celtic carvings merchants sold. Hercules helped me mount the phobia train, and got on beside me, with Phil jumping up in front of me refusing to ride "bitch" as he put it, referring to sitting behind Hercules where he would be both uncomfortable and most likely to fall off. We took off, and Pegasus seemed to listen to his buddy and kept the stunt flying to a minimum. Through he did choose an unnecessarily high altitude for such a short flight. Really? He has to be spiteful? My eyes were squinted painfully shut, trying to focus on the sparse sense of safety Herc's arms around be brought. I was clinging to his hands tight, sure that my desperate grip was uncomfortable, but he bore the discomfort in silence. It felt as if we flew strait to the sky, then strait back down again, only confirming my belief that there was so need to fly so damn high. The way home I was going to walk.
When we finally landed it was outside of a sun-bleached clay and thatch building, the roof as pale as the aging walls. Deep red and blue tapestries hung on the wall, with a golden hornet sewn in the center of each, and with peeling paint the name proudly written above the door. Delta was so faded and alpha written so poorly it read "oily Hornet" and I snickered at the appropriateness. We landed behind the building to avoid the large crowd that had gathered in front. The 'Daily Hornet' was situated in poor part of Thebes where their most popular market lived, downhill from most of the city. Several neighboring buildings had burned down, and even the roof of the tabloid was blackened at the edges, the northern wall coated in black soot from the wind blowing smoke and ash towards the water. The public latrines had been damaged by the rampaging Cyclops causing the air to smell of stagnant urine and feces mixed with molding straw. The thick air also mixed with the smells of wet cobble, cinders, wood fires, and unwashed humans. I heard the calamity of dozens of voices, buzzing flies, and the distant roar of the ocean. The sheer number of voices nearly overtook the subtle, but still-there sound of crackling fires. The last of them had yet to burn out. I felt a sudden heartbreak for the people who had to live in this neighborhood. Up in the villa I nearly forgot about the ruined conditions of the city below, and that those who lived here not only had to mourn their many dead but try and rebuild their neighborhoods. I wondered if Creon had diverted any funds to helping his people.
Moments after we landed the half-burned thatched overhang that served as a door parted, and a stout man ushered us inside. He smelled as if he hadn't washed in near a month and tried to cover it up by rubbing various flowers on himself, succeeding only in making my eyes water with the stench. His face was poorly kempt, an uneven beard coating his thick cheeks. His nose was wide and upturned, and a thick head of curly black hair covered only the top of his head, thin wisps above his ears in the oddest balding pattern I had ever seen. He was quite rotund, carrying most of the weight around his abdomen, with stick-thin legs. The entire package gave him the appearance of a hog.
The inside of the building showed me that he was not nearly as poor as the neighborhood he served, making me believe his unkempt appearance was not for lack of resources. The floors and walls were clean, the walls decorated with parchments of some of the most popular headlines the tabloid had produced as well as autographs from various celebrities, tapestries signed by Kings and nobles. Clearly gifts. The floor of the hall had carpeting running down the length, and where the wall wasn't coasted in flammables torches rested. The flames of which flickered dangerously close and it was a wonder this place was one of few to not burn down. My nose was further assaulted by the smell of far too many burning incense, a clear attempt to cover his own stench. My eyes were watering, and I began to sneeze from the sensory overload. My ears and throat were itchy, every sense begging for fresh air. It was worse than being in an opium den.
"Welcome! Here, come! I have a seat for ya! Wonderful to finally meet this 'mysterious woman' my… sources have been so excited about!" His exuberance felt false, and I continued to grow more uncomfortable by the minute. I was completely regretting my decision to agree to this involuntary interview. I threw a glance at Hercules, hoping I wasn't the only uncomfortable one here or I was going to start feeling paranoid. He bit his lip and knit his brows in an apologetic gesture. This made me feel at least a modicum better, but I still wouldn't feel entirely okay until we were home. "I have a lot of questions. Very excited." He clapped his hands together, and sat down in a wooden chair that looked like it was struggling to maintain his girth. "So let's get started, huh?"
"Please," I replied,
"So let's just skip all the formal introducing words and cut to the chase. Who exactly is this deviously sexy gal here?"
"Excuse me?" I replied. I knew it was a tabloid, but I was still expecting at least a shred of professionalism. I shot a look at Hercules, who appeared equally offended at the way this interview was off to a start. "Wanna try that again?" I didn't realize I was balling my fist until I felt Hercules wrap his hand around mine, giving it a knowing squeeze.
"Ah guess you don't like just bein' casual, eh?" The man replied, sitting back in his chair scribbling away at the parchment. At this point Phil, who had been sitting quietly against the wall at the far side of the room got up, trotted over to the man, and tore the parchment from him.
"You ain't writin' that down. You start this by bein' all rude? After we grant you an exclusives interview? With just you?" He crumbled the parchment and proceeded to eat it, seeming absolutely delighted at the treat.
"Hey! That stuff ain't cheap!" Phil riffled and pulled out a sack of coins from Gods know where and threw it to the man.
"Now shut up about the cost. You gonna do this right? Othah' papers can be all professional and whatnot, why can'ts you? So we're gonna' give this one more try or we take our business elsewhere. Any news scroll 'round town would kill for this interview. We can go to them, and add the juicy bit 'bout how you tried to blackmail Greece's favorite hero! Think of what they'd do with that scoop!" He explained, crossing his stubby arms and tapping his hooves.
"Wait, why the hell didn't we just do that?" I asked, now genuinely curious as to why we were in this sketchiest of places offering an interview to the least reputable media service in the entire city-state. Hercules and Phil both looked at me, and for a moment I wondered if the thought had never occurred.
"Would seem too dishonest to just go runnin' around accusin' this place a' blackmail. Ain't got the best reputation but blackmail ain't something it's known for,"
"Because blackmail, when done right, no one knows you did it!" I snapped back, my patience lost. "And I'm sorry I agreed to this for Herc, but I am not carrying on from here. Starting it by referring to me as 'devious sexy gal' I didn't want to do this in the first place. Sorry sir," I spat the word like it was poison, hoping to convey my burning sarcasm, "But you'll just have to run your blackmail story! Call me whatever you want! But you'll never get an interview out of me."