"HOMER?"
Francis Drake's eyes widened slightly, as if just realizing something, before adopting a knowing smirk. "You are a well-known figure in the intellectual community, my Lady."
A small, wooden box of moonlace seedlings floated into her garden, as one of Calypso's servants placed the container next to Francis Drake. Calypso nodded a silent thank you. "And how is it, Francis Drake, that I am now suddenly known to the world? Ody— My previous resident knew nothing of me."
Calypso went to stand up, to begin planting her seedlings, before one of the silver stalks was within arm's reach, Francis Drake's face attached to the visible hand holding it out towards her. His face was curious, studying the strange plant in his hand while also continuously sneaking glances towards Calypso herself.
"Odysseus, yes?" His face became more serious. "I do apologize, my Lady, but your abduction of the King of Ithaca is a well-known tale."
Calypso snarled and snatched the seedling from his hand. "I did no—"
Hands were raised in the air, a surrendering gesture. "I do not say this to offend, for your story is told by another from long ago, and tales do have a tendency to change with time."
Calypso planted the seedling, calming down as she imbued magic around the fragile stalk. She thought for a moment: Another from long ago, he said. Could she finally gain a notion of some time?
"It is forgiven. I too apologize for my anger. He is a subject of… of pain and sadness for me." Calypso reached for the silver tray holding the bowl of nectar and lone square of ambrosia. She tore the golden square in half, poured a chalice of water from a plain water pot that had been set next to her, and set both atop a wooden tray near Francis Drake.
"Eat, you need to heal."
"Thank you, my Lady."
"You are my charge, Francis Drake. It is my duty." Calypso's fingers then interlaced each other, index fingers forming a peak, and she stared intently at Francis Drake. "If I may ask, just how long ago was my story told?"
Francis Drake took a small bite of ambrosia, his face lighting up in joy as he relished whatever taste enveloped his tongue. He looked upwards, thinking. "A long, long time ago, my Lady. It was well before Christ, but that has no meaning to you, does it?" He chuckled without wincing in pain this time — an improvement. "Over two millennia, at the least." Grabbing the silver chalice, he drank the water that lay within in one gulp, betraying his health.
Calypso's eyes widened, and a soft "oh" escaped her. She slowly reached for Francis Drake's now empty chalice and refilled it for him. "It has not felt… quite that long, I daresay."
"I imagine time works on a scale all its own for the immortals of this world, my Lady."
She turned her back to Francis Drake to plant another seedling. "Calypso."
"I'm sorry?"
"I am Calypso, not your Lady. We are all equals here on Ogygia." Calypso held her tongue as she turned back to face him, a jealous and bitter retort waiting to be released: yet you are not the prisoner.
It would do no good to antagonize the one who now shared her island for the time being.
Francis Drake stared intently at Calypso, his face wrinkled in thought. His facial hair suited the quizzical look, she observed. His dirt-dark eyes grazed Calypso's body, lingering in no spot for too long.
His eyes then looked towards the meadow of silver luminescence behind her, and they widened, sparkling and twinkling in the beauty. Francis Drake lifted a hand, lightly moving it over the now healed wound that tore his abdomen. His face was one of intrigue and wonder at his situation and, with the silver glow of her moonlace, he looked beautiful.
His eyes then met her face, still holding that same twinkle, and Calypso sucked in a breath. He studied her as if she was a marble statue. His gaze went to her lips, and a ghost of a smirk began to form on his. He spoke to himself in the tongue from his arrival. His eyes finally moved and met hers, twinkling in amusement and awe.
And then he laughed, and his face broke into a happy, radiant smile.
"Francis, then, since we are both equals. Or Drake. Whichever you prefer, Calypso."
And Calypso knew she was lost to him.
"Drake…"
/ / /
"Percy…"
Her hero had awoken again, now wrapped in a white robe and hesitantly moving like a newborn fawn. From Calypso's spot in her garden, Percy was a being bathed in divine silver light, his white, disheveled robe a shining beacon for all to see on her isle. Slowly, Percy's head tilted upwards, and he raised his right arm towards the sky, absentmindedly tracing the stars.
Drake had been so utterly fascinated by the plants, perhaps Perseus would too. Reaching down, Calypso grabbed a small seedling and began slowly walking to her hero. Taking pleasure in the slow walk to Percy, she made sure to relish this private look into his life where he looked at his most normal. He was talking to himself, eyes wide as they absorbed the sky overhead, mouth always just slightly agape. Slowly, Percy turned to face the southern shore, and his arm slowly and shakily came to rest at a spot in front of him. The vibrations of silent tears that Calypso had only seen once before ran a course through his body, and he rested himself upon the ground. His head never once moved from that southern point.
Like a mouse, Calypso slowly inched her way to her saddened hero, her moonlace providing a calming light within the darkness before she finally reached Percy — himself lost in a trance to Ouranos.
"Percy, what do you see?"
His eyes slowly refocused, and he shook his head rapidly, dusting off any remnants of sadness he held. Percy then turned his eyes to Calypso, and they widened in her presence. Calypso ran a hot gold as he was lost to her being. Whatever reverence he had held to the skies above, it seemed as though Percy now held the same for Calypso. Perhaps he would be more like Drake than Odysseus.
"I was just looking at…" His eyes were planted firmly on her lips. Percy flushed and looked at the ground, embarrassed as he realized. "Uh… I forgot," he mumbled.
Calypso gave an audible chuckle at his innocence; she would not push the issue too hard. She extended the moonlace to Percy. "Well, as long as you are up, you can help me plant these."
Percy cupped his hands below Calypso's, and she released the earthen soil into the mortal pot beneath. With a light giggle, she gave one of the leaves a quick tap and Percy watched with wonder in the twinkling magnificence of it.
"Come, it will be even more elegant when it is with friends." Percy quickly followed behind, his eyes only leaving the moonlace to look ahead every few steps. Calypso chuckled quietly to herself: definitely Drake. His thumbs would every so often flick at a leaf or gently caress the tips of a petal. She heard him mumble to himself in his tongue every so often.
When they reached her garden, she began her usual ceremony and set up in an open spot where this plant would forever reside. "That is moonlace," she explained to him. "It can only be planted at night."
Percy's voice came from behind, airy, still entranced by the flower. "...What does it do?"
Calypso paused; the question surprised her. These flowers were an extension of herself. "Do?" They did nothing more than provide her with a habit, a ritual, and her moonlace asked for naught in return. To question if the moonlace were to provide her with anything was absurd, they were too interconnected for anything else to ever occur. Perhaps Percy related beauty with divine power, in which case he would be sorely mistaken. But how to explain the beauty of an experience?
"It does not really do anything, I suppose. But it lives, it gives light, and it provides beauty. Does it have to do anything else?"
"I suppose not." His voice was disappointed.
Calypso turned back to Percy and moved to take the plant so she could allow it to rest in its home. Their hands met for the briefest moment. His fingers were cold. How she wished that she could hold them forever, keep them warm for eternity. She quickly turned back around, moonlace in hand, to plant the flower.
It was a hasty job, a fog in Calypso's mind as the one behind her caused a distraction, feelings she wished to have not, especially within the sanctuary of her garden. Perhaps this was a mistake. She rapidly finished, rushing through her spells, knowing the flower would need to be cared for more thoroughly the next time. Calypso resolved to bring Percy here again when she had the mental fortitude for it. She stepped back to be beside Percy.
"I love my garden."
They both stared out and admired the field. Percy was lost to the sea of silver, the twinkling luminescence bathing him in divine light. His eyes wandered to the edges, his mouth agape in wonder. "It's awesome," he breathed. She assumed the foreign word was of the highest honor, considering the state of the boy.
They stood together for some time in silence before he spoke again in hushed tones. "Back home, my mom always wanted a garden."
"Why did she not plant one?"
"Well, we live in Manhattan. In an apartment."
Ah, her isolation would once more cause trouble. "Manhattan? Apartment?"
Percy's face twisted in confusion, before settling on realization. "You don't know what I'm talking about, do you?
"I fear not. I have not left Ogygia in…a long time," Calypso trailed off.
Over two millennia, at the least.
Percy furrowed his brows, before finally deciding on what to say. "Well, Manhattan's a big city, with not much gardening space."
"That is sad. Hermes visits from time to time. He tells me the world outside has changed greatly. I did not realize it had changed so much that you cannot have gardens." How big were cities now if one could not have even a single garden? How much more time had passed since Drake for this to occur? He would tell tales of magnificent gardens sprawled throughout his home and country, and his city was one of the largest in the known world.
Silence met them once more, an amicable silence. Calypso's mind wandered aimlessly, moving to thoughts of this Manhattan and what it would be like to visit there. She would of course have Percy to help her navigate this city-of-new as it would surely be a labyrinth if one could find no space for a garden. Her hand twitched, aching to hold Percy's.
He broke the silence once more. "Why haven't you left your island?"
Calypso flinched instinctively, Percy unknowingly requesting a sore and private story. He somehow knew not of her punishment, and therefore most likely assumed her some crazed hermit. She drew a long breath before answering, now knowing of his ignorance of the situation.
"It is my punishment."
"Why? What did you do?"
Calypso's mood darkened even more, and she scoffed at the question. "I? Nothing. But my father did a great deal. His name is Atlas."
The snarled name had an instant effect, and Percy moved away from Calypso. They turned to face each other, the space between them feeling greater than the wine-dark sea, and she could see that he was battling with many emotions.
Anger. Sadness. Guilt. Confusion.
He breathed, and then he breathed again, before speaking slowly.
"Still… it's not fair to punish you for what your father's done. I knew another daughter of Atlas. Her name was Zoë." Percy's face grew somber at the mention of her name, and he grew quieter. "She was one of the bravest people I've ever met…"
"But I have a duty to my Queen and my country…"
He was a hero, after all, Calypso was idiotic to think he would not have a duty, a reason to be anywhere but here with her. Calypso stared longingly into Percy's eyes. They were the rich color of the wine-dark sea, so much youth and power behind them. He had so much room to grow. Percy was a hero on the cusp of his career with so many more adventures to await him; why would he ever decide to remain here with her? His hair had all but grown back, those once singed ends now healed into sleek raven locks. His face had a few faint scars that traced his cheekbones, a promise of more to come in his quests lay unspoken. Percy would never even entertain the thought of staying, if not for his potential then for his connections: his Grover, his Annabeth.
"What is it?" Percy must have noticed her worsening mood.
"Are— are you healed yet, my brave one?" Calypso's voice faltered, "do you think you will be ready to leave soon?"
"What?" To her benefit, Percy did seem shocked at the question. "I don't know."
He looked down at his legs and shakily moved them. Calypso could tell they were still in pain, and his body was starting to sway from the fatigue of standing for so long. Calypso should be helping Percy, tending to his ailment, but she could stand to be near him no longer.
"You want me to go?"
Percy broke through Calypso's final barrier, and she could think no more. Of course she wanted him to leave. But of course, she also wanted him to stay.
And Calypso knew she was lost to him.
"I… I will see you in the morning. Sleep well."
Turning, she sped away to her western shore for a peace she so desperately needed. Her pace too fast to call uncaring yet too slow to prevent Percy from catching her. Wet tears traced a path for her hero to follow her by.
A path that was never followed.
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and a Happy New Year to you all! I hope you all have a wonderful time celebrating whatever it is you celebrate and enjoy the time spent with your family and friends! As my present to all of you, I present a very, very overdue update.