#//Hermes has been through the SHITTER

[strykingback]

ʌ: comfort after a nightmare - for Violet & Hermes would be nice!

Warning the following drabble will contain these trigger warnings: Gore, Abuse, Blood, Vivisection, etc. Please do not read this if you have the following triggers. 

Hermes was resting beside his lover Violet softly sleeping with her in their room together. The warmth of the pillow covering Hermes so quietly and like an embrace was just so comfortable to be in. If only he could see in her dreams that Violet could be having. 

Then what better dream for Violet than that of her holding her beloved Hermy in her arms kissing him whenever he was happy or sad. What better place than to be in than a field of flowers. “Mmm.. Hermy...” she softly spoke outside of her dream in such a tired voice. 

However for Hermes, it was not a dream more or so.. his torturous nightmare of when he was being experimented on like a rat. Just how he remembered it all.. being cursed with immortality, having his light magic taken away from him, his body in penultimate pain every time he moved (Luckily the pain subsided after the first thousand years or two). 

Being in his cave Hermes had not witnessed the End of Ancient Remnant, The Grimm Titan War, or the Great Resurgence, instead when he first walked out he had witnessed the blinding light of the sun for the first time in ages, and the floating city of Atlas. 

Going to investigate his body was totally in the nude due to his clothes deteriorating and people questioning what happened to him. His malnourished state, and others asking how was he even able to survive for that long. 

Hermes did not reply to no one but he was taken up by the Atlesian police and questioned, which he answered everything truthfully and honestly, but he also shown them that he was immortal. Their eyes could not believe it at first,.. just how fast he was able to heal. However if he held the secrets to immortality then the Atlesian military would want it. 

Thus, instead of being released he was sent to an unknown facility, little did he know.. this was the place where his torture would begin.  In the real world Hermes began to jerk and move around a bit softly moaning in anguished pain at the memories that were playing in his head once more.  “PIECE OF SHIT!!!”  “MOTHER FUCKING SACK OF BALLS!!!” “BEST MAKE US IMMORTAL!” “COME ON THEN CRAZY!!! ARENT YOU GONNA GET UP AND FUCKING FIGHT!”  Those were the insults that was thrown at him by the Atlesian soldiers that had shouted at him and made him feel like shit. Each punch they swung a flow of blood came from his mouth and nose, from each kick he felt his ribs getting cracked, and from each stomp his hands and fingers were broken.  Yet.. it always healed 

Back in the real world Hermes kept moving around  and this time what turned from moans turned to groan... yet he remembered something that he did not want to remember for so long.. his first Vivisection. 

He could remember the surge of pain that he felt and how he screamed so loudly when waking up to see his own organs being pulled out and played with, rivers of blood just dripping from it leaving even Hermes horrified at the sight as he threw up and fainted back into unconsciousness. 

Yet came the next part...of his first trial of being an experiment, the flaying of his skin, being hooked up to a machine that shot a stinging laser piercing into his soft tender like skin then just everything being pulled off... and Hermes witnessing his own muscle and veins.. all made him but horriefied as he fainted from the shock. 

Y̬e̝̣̪̻̩t̖̳͠ ͓̣̳̣i͏̜͖̙̬͚ͅt̤͖ ̡̳̤̰̹͇ͅa̛͚̠̖͙̦̦̭l̠̤͙̝̬̙w͍̳͇a̡y̢̟̳̱̹̺s͕͕͟ ̟͕̣̼͜h̸̤̝̤e͟a̴̖̫̹̞̫͔̩l̜̮̦̦e̛͖̩̩d҉͖̲̬ ̙̬̟̻̝̻

Coming next was his the R&D testing for newer weapons, he was tested like a rab lat meaning to run before he got blasted to bits, and nearly dying of course. Sometimes he succeeding surviving, sometimes he didnt which lead to him witnessing his own limbs getting blown off or being poisoned by biological warfare. 

Yͣ̏̚eͧ̈́͂̽ͭ͊̑҉͡t̛̂̆ͨͥͩͣ͏ ̿̓͠iͥ̈́ͩͧt̶̡ͪ̌ͣ̾ ̛͗ͣ͘a̓ͨͣ̏͋ļ̊̌ͬ̐w͌̐̒ͮͥ̅́a̴̴̎͛̃ͫ̎̋y̡͒͘͢s̸̓ͨ ͛̊̇ͫ͟hͫͧ̽̀͂̔̇e̢̾̊̇̐̌́a̸͑͂ͭ̐̾̊̏ļͩ́eͥ̈́̏ͫ̈́̓̉͆͜͞d̷ͪ̄̿́̾ ͛̊ͭ̃̈͛̆͢͝

Which out of Hermes’ dream he began to softly whimper and his breathing starting to quicken and his body growing goosebumps as his movement increased to the point where he was tugging on the blanket stirring Violet from her dream. 

Next was the constant silence of being alone for years as Hermes was beginning to break down the voices of the past all of them damning him for abandoning them all for his quest for playing God.  “Why Hermes.. why would you do this.” The voice of his wife spoke 

“You have tried to play as God Hermes, However you must learn about the beauty of life.. your beloved will be far from your reach..” The voice of the God of Light said. 

“Hermes please.. we want you to come home.. please... stop your experiments...” The voice of one of his fathers spoke in his mind. 

“I must... stay sane...” Hermes said weakly breathing heavily in a sweat, he clearly remembered what his room looked like how he had markings of each day on there, equations of a possible escape in the Ancient Remnant language, tally marks of each and every day that had passed. 

The next experiment was one that tested Hermes himself yet this experiment was so indescribable...even some scientists found it inhumane... and just.. a major violation of Hermes’ own human rights... feeding him to a Grimm Squid which not only took its time “playing” with Hermes.. but ripping him apart.. bit by bit. As always with his wounds and everything...

Y̸̔̍̂̑̔̂Ĕ̶̌͗ͤ̏͐ͪͨŢ̓͒ͦͭ̇ͤ̓̋͛̕ ̴̢ͬ͐̄I̢̍ͤ͒̇T̶̢͐͐͆͟ ̒̎͛͝Aͤͦͫ͒ͪ͌͂́L̢ͫͧ͐̓͂W͑̆̇͑ͯ͑͂͐́҉̸A̡ͣ̆͋̀Ẏ͐ͧͣ҉̢Ṡ͗͞ ͩͯ͠F̌ͬ͟U̒̚Č́͏́K͐͆̐̂̈I̛̽͐̒ͮ͊̎̾̓Nͩ̎̓ͦͮ̾̚G̴ͫ̎҉ ͥͦ̉̔̿҉̕͘H̡̾̂͑͜E̶̛̒͑̿͋̆ͭȦͨ͞Ļͣͦ̃̀E̵͗̂͋ͬ͛͊͒̓D̡͑̉ͫͯͦͭͯͩ͠!ͦ̿͆͠!ͩ́ͫ̍ͥ̆!̢̇̿̌̉͋ͥͩ͞!̔ͤ̋̂̿̅ͦ͏̕

Once again out of his dream Hermes, started to sweat profusely and move to the point where he began rip away the blanket as got on all fours... groaning with a bit of distortion to it... like a wild animal. Which when Violet stirred waking up moaning a bit. “Hermy... go to bed... ple- Hermy??” 

Finally the final experiment that broke him... that destroyed his mind entirely. The Semblance Limiter project he remembered the cool steel  being around his neck as he attempted to go full power and how he was no longer called Hermes.. only SUBJECT-731. 

And when he tried to go full power... and that first shock came through his brain and mind.. 

“YES!!! AHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAA~!!! MORE PAIN!!! FUCK ME!!! KILL ME!!! I WANNA SEE MORE OF MY INNARDS!!! YOUR GOD DEMANDS IT!!!!” 

Hermes screeched at the top of his lungs causing every scientist to leave the room in horror... as he rushed the window slamming into it and licking it wildly like a wild animal. ...

Finally back in the real world, Hermes looked up to the sky and screamed loudly waking up crying and sobbing. “KILL ME!!! PLEASE!!! AHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! MAKE ME FEEL SOMETHING GODS!!!!” Hermes screamed loudly causing Violet to wake up immediately and allowing herself  to quickly hug Hermes tightly. “Hermes!! Hermy!! Come back its me! Violet.. you’re okay! You’re okay!!” She pleaded which Hermes’ insane laughter came to an end looking at her with his expression softening up with tears flowing out of his eyes and quickly hugging her tightly. 

“It hurts.. It hurts.. It hurts.. It hurts.. It hurts...” Hermes  sobbed softly.  “Shh.. Hermy, its all over now ok.. its over.. You’re safe now.. you’re safe now..” Violet spoke rubbing her beloveds head and giving him plenty of kisses on the head. Yet.. while the wounds of old has healed.. the mind never forgets. But that doesnt mean every memory was bad. Hermes meeting Team RNJR and BOUT (Blade and Outsider), Merlinda helping him and every Atelier scientist making working to find a way to safely remove the Semblance limiter from his neck, The kindness of Louvel reaching out to him, and even better Exaltia and Cashmere soothing his insanity giving him a chance to regain his sanity. 

Finally the ultimate thing that truly helped his mind heal...being with Violet... thats what helped the most. He just stayed there until he was calmed down and sleeping again this time in Violets embrace.. just her embrace alone felt warmer than any blanket in the world. 

[acequeenking]

4. Been to Hell (& Back Again)

Written for @sephweek prompt #4: Been to Hell and Back Again.

Pairing: Hades & Zagreus (Hadsephone son OC)

Summary: In which Persephone’s boys are together again, talking about a woman who isn’t there.

Now here comes a man, a man with broad shoulders, coming up to a train station. He ain't been there in a while, though he knows the way. Always knew the way. Knew the way before there was a station to call upon. Would close his eyes and beat feet and find his way here even if he’d set off with no destination at all.

That’s just the way the underworld works when you’re a born citizen there. Always wants you back, and sooner or later, you go.

But for Zagreus, well, it ain't usual for him to obey that call. He’s always been his mother’s son, and his mother’s mother’s sun, which is to say that he has lived for sunshine and honeybees, sweet air and mountain springs. Not to say he ain’t got something of his Pa too – but he’s been a man partial to a sweet summer’s day and he’s chosen his living accordingly. He’s always been closer to his Ma and Maw-Maw. Maw-Maw usually makes sure to visit his farm every winter, and Ma for a week or so in the summer, and that’s just peaches with him, even if Maw-Maw does cluck her tongue on his choice of crops and Ma clucks hers at his fancy tractors and tillers and all sorts of new equipment, sometimes courtesy of Pa.

Now, Pa and him have been distant for a while; there's nothing between them that can't be expressed better from afar and seems both of them have been alright with that. Pa usually sends a few notes, at least six a year, always in the summer months, and Zagreus dutifully always writes back. Neither of them prone to much flourish, a half a page or less each missive, but he knows his Pa loves him, deep down. Don’t buy a man a tractor if you ain’t got love in your heart for him, and Zagreus long ago learned that presents and provisions are Pa’s way of saying his love.

But Pa’s letters, cryptic though they are, are enough to make Zagreus wonder a’times.

Pa’s talked about changes he’s making for Ma, and Ma has talked about changes Pa has made that she ain’t happy about, but no one seems to want to bother to tell the baby boy just what those changes have been. Ma in particular seems sour on it all; she ain't said a complementary word about Pa in a long, long time. Pa used to talk ‘bout Ma a lot in his letters but less so over the last few years.

Sometimes in the winter when the wind howls too strong, Zagreus pulls out his letters and looks through, each one, and tries to see where it’s all gone wrong. Once he gets to a mind to ask his most frequent visitor Mr. Hermes, most holy uncle, how Pa and Ma is doin', and what he gets is: never you mind, young Zagreus.

Which is to say, Zagreus is pretty sure that his parent's long, long marriage is in the shitter. And he isn’t sure who caused it or what caused it, but it’s a sad state of affairs, and he tries not to think on it so much.

But then Pa sent him a letter, a winter letter, most unusual, and asks him a simple question: let’s meet up upon the train, at this time and in this place.

And Pa rarely asks for such a meeting. And when Pa does ask for such a meeting, one feels compelled to come, for Pa rarely asks twice.

And so now here he is. Sitting on a train station bench, itself uncomfortable. Himself uncomfortable too; his collar itches. He scratches at it but with the gloves he’s got to wear, on account of the cold, well, it ain’t really bluntin’ the itch.

So he tries to think of other things, more joyous things. Blueberry pie, fresh from Maw Maw’s oven with a big scoop of her ice cream on top. Ooh, yeah, that’s nice. Then he thinks of Mr. Hermes’ new little fella, whose only ten but gawky and sweet and gonna be a right heartbreaker on that guitar when he grows into his godhood just a bit more. When Pa still ain’t arrived by the time he’s gotten through that, he thinks about Grannie Rhee’s pecans, which arrive every so often when he has a craving, and he ain’t never worked out how she knows such things. Thinks about his own crops for next year: sativas, he thinks. Ma likes sativa best, and she’s his best customer at this point.

‘Sides he ain’t never been able to say no to his Ma.

He finally hears the train in the distance and brightens up; be right nice to see Pa and Ma together, right nice. Might be able to figure out what’s going on with them together, maybe even nose his way in and figure out what’s goin’ on with them up-close. He’s always played the peacemaker in the family. Ma and Pa love one another very much but both is pig-iron stupid in a lot of tiresome ways, too proud by half.

Thankfully, Zagreus takes after some other relative there. Not sure which, but he’s a more practical sort. Maw-Maw always said so, was always proud that he could sheaf a corn in less than thirty seconds, could grow and crack a walnut down to just a nut in a minute or less.

Train comes in. Zagreus stands, puts his hands in the pockets on his leather jacket. Still cold. Cripes but Pa and Ma are makin’ it mighty cold this year.

A door opens and a man steps out and he brightens, holds open his arms. Pa ain’t the sort to hug, really, unless he’s got an invitation. Zagreus, being a most practical man, offers the invitation.

Pa don’t look so happy, and, more to the point, Pa looks old and tired: Pa’s hair is bright-white, which it’s been a while, but it looks more dull than its ever been. Pa’s jacket is long and leather and Pa’s wearin’ it like a security blanket, with his arms clutched at his sides.

Which is to say, woo boy, Pa is in a mighty poor mood.

“Pa!” He shouts, and this induces only the slightest smile. Pa’s smiles are always slight but this one slighter than usual, just a half-vestigial tug of the lips. Sigh. Pa – Pa needs a hug.

And Zagreus, like his mother, does like to provide.

“C’mon, Pa, give your boy a hug.” He crosses the few steps between them and throws his arms around Pa, who freezes up as he ain’t done in a long time, not since Zagreus was a boy and Zagreus was a boy a mighty number of years ago now. But pa’s hands do slowly wind round his shoulders, and he holds him a long time there, Pa’s head on his shoulder and his head on Pa’s.

Pa smells like soot and dirt, and it’s comforting in a way, a smell of home. Pa’s hand, hesitantly, comes round to gently touch his curly hair and he leans into the touch. Pa’s got to be kind of swept in, but he gives good hugs when he gets tricked into it.

“I missed you, Pa,” he says.

“My boy,” says Pa, voice deeper than any river. “My boy.” Pa keeps him in a long hug then, and it’s pleasant, but also makes Zagreus wary. Pa never was the type for long hugs.

And when he peers over Pa’s shoulder, he don’t see little Ma on the train, patiently waiting her turn. And Ma always is waiting for a hug, least from Zagreus.

“Ma ain’t come?” He says, and he hears a little tremor, even in his own deep voice. “It’s winter…”

“Not this time.” He claps once more on Zagreus shoulder, and a five-alarm fire bell starts going off in Zagreus’ head: my god, they’ve finally done it ain’t they, Ma and Pa, ‘bout to tell him he’s going to be a child of divorce though of course at his age ain’t much a child about Zagreus anymore. “C’mon my boy. Ride with me. Want to – want to talk to you alone.”

“Is Ma okay?” Words come out before he can stop them. It’s been a couple years since he’s heard much from Ma, herself being more distant than usual. Ma can be mercurial at times and he’s assumed she’s just been a bit down, but Maw-Maw has said she’s spending more time with Pa and Pa – Pa don’t look like a man full of time with Ma.

“She’s alive, unhurt.” Which didn’t mean well, he knew well enough. Pa’s arm hasn’t left his shoulder, but now he moves him to the train. “Come, come.”

And so he rides. Been a long time since Zagreus has run the line with his Pa; last time, this train was brand new and Pa’s train looks – well, not quite lived in, but it looks like it’s Had a Time. He sits down on one of Pa’s little seats and Pa, to his surprise, sits in the next chair across. Normally Pa sits opposite, likes to look at a man to take his measure. Not today.

“How’s it goin’?” Pa asks, which is trouble indeed because Pa ain’t the sort that bothers with small talk. Pa small talking is nothing but bad news.

“It’s going jus’ fine.” He tries to smile, feels sweat at his neck and dabs at it. He wishes Ma was here, Ma who is always better at drawing out Pa’s anxieties. “Thank you mighty for the engine advice, by the by. It was the carburetor.”

“Always is,” says his father; he looks away, looking at the train’s track as it passes through the forests near Ma’s little home away from home. “Bloody things.”

“Yeah.” Pa nods and seems content with that for a long moment, and Zagreus can only keep the talk going so long. Just can’t last it, his chatter about what he’s been fixing up in the winter getting swallowed up by his father’s monosyllabic groans and grunts.

The lights go out, fast. He raises his eyebrows; somehow, he’s been surprised by going down. Himself, the only one born down here. Seems he ought not be taken by surprise, but that’s the Underworld for you. Always catches one unaware.

His father waves a hand in the darkness; Zagreus alarm grows as the train slowly, agonizingly, stops. It takes his father a moment, but he truly does stop the whole system from running with just a wave of his hand.

“Pa…?” He asks, with a shaky breath. Lots of people are afraid of his Pa, but until this moment, Zagreus ain’t never counted himself in their number. “Pa, what’s goin’…?”

“Now,” his father rasps. “No witnesses.”

Before he can even so much as ask what the fuck his father is on, his father stands, digging through his leather coat’s pockets. Pa tosses two little baggies down next to Zagreus.

“Son,” he says, his voice heavy. “I’ll only ask once.”

“What?” He stares at the baggies; the first is full of little tablets, white little ones. Don’t look factory-made, so ain’t something Pa made. Which means they come from—he swallows. Aw, Ma.

“Did you supply your mother…?” He asks, his voice heavier with regret than he thinks Pa has ever sounded. “This your idea…?”

“Ma ain’t never done the heavy stuff,” he says, picking up the second bag and finding it filled with a white powder. He is pretty sure he knows what this is, and knows it takes Pa’s earnings to have a bag this full of it. “And all I ever supplied her with is smokin’ muggle.” Marijuana’s all he’s ever grown for Ma, herself not having space for it in her own gardens, not with Maw Maw nosing about.

His Pa looks at him a long moment. Pa’s got to be a good judge of people, himself being the judge of all people. He stares at his son with that supernatural stare, and Zagreus squirms underneath it.

“I ain’t seen Ma in a few years, Pa. She ain’t been comin’ in springtime. Thought she was – just busy.”

His father wordlessly puts his hands in his pockets. Stands. Stares. “That’s the Gods’ honest truth, Pa. Swear to the Styx.”

“Swear to me,” his father mumbles, and Zagreus stands. Just as tall as his dad, just about.

“Fine, Pa. I swear upon your chromium throne, upon your wealth and your riches and your love for Ma and the dog and me and all the souls upon your employ. I swear to you, I ain’t never messed with the heavy stuff. And if I did, I wouldn’t sell it to my Ma. May you strike me dead, Pa, if you find such a lie.”

He’s breathing hard, and breathes hard still as Pa’s hand shoots out, grips – lightly – on his shoulder. Pa’s studying him a long moment, then he nods.

“So you know nothing, then?” He asks.

“If I did, you think I wouldn’t tell you?! You think – Jesum, Pa, what happened to you and Ma? She ain’t never done the heavy stuff.”

“She has, now. On it more than off.” His father collapses into the chair opposite him, his body sagging. “Do you know what those are?”

“Pills could be lots of things. Powder, too, but…” But they both know it’s likely cocaine. Which is a hard thing for Ma to make all her lonesome, but he don’t say that.

“What happened?” Zagreus asks, his voice spit-fire. “What the fuck happened, Pa? Everything seemed right as rain a couple years ago, and then—”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” his father murmurs. “I don’t know.”

“Fuck’s sake Pa, what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” says Pa again. “I just don’t.”

“Damn,” he says. They’re both silent for a long moment, collapsed into their seats. Pa’s all but crumpled into his, an obvious wounded wolf who’ll snarl if Zagreus comes on too fast. But Zagreus, himself, ain’t quite Pa’s breed, and the wounded puppy he is wants nothing more than to go and comfort Pa’s wounds.

But he knows better, so he just licks at his own, trying to figure out: What on earth is Ma doin’? Ma ain’t never liked the heavy stuff. Dangerous, Ma used to say, to try to escape your own mind. Now Ma was chasin’ labyrinths with Bolivian marching powder? And Pa ain’t got a thing to say? Shit. And to think Pa used to look down on him for growin’ some goof butts.

Pa snaps his fingers and the train starts again. “I assume you want to be dropped off back…?”

“No,” he says, soft. “I want to see her, Pa. I got to—I got to see her.” Pa looks at him, the look unknowable and vacant, and that worries him too.

Now it’s rare for them to have multiple signs of affection in a day, but Zagreus can’t resist getting up, grabbin’ Pa’s hand which is far, far older than he remembers: the golden veins more prominent, the skin drier. “You know it’d make her happy. Her boys, together again.”

“Her boys, again.” His father raises an eyebrow, going back and forth in the decision for a long moment. “Alright. Sit lively, then.”

And so he does. But as Hadestown rolls in, and he sees how much it’s grown – well, he gets an idea, maybe, of what’s bothering his Ma.

But Pa don’t see it, his eyes dark even in the blinding light of the hell-fire, and Zagreus wonders, maybe, if things have gone so far even he can’t quite bring it back.

Ma and Pa, after all, always were awful stubborn.

[druid-for-hire]

UNSWAYED PT. III

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)

this one’s got some revisions/retcons/refinings and new content. there will be some minor rehashing. this edition is more on the drama eurydice goes through on the path to find orpheus, orpheus’ deterioration in the Beyond, little bit of persephone and even littler bit hermes, finding orpheus, and finally getting to leave

thank you @supercantaloupe, @sonyalone, @unholy-boi, @s-aint-elmo, @ferretteeth for helping author this & help out w ideas and all!! sasha, u esp.

ok.

sits down and rests my old creaking bones in a rocking chair by the hearth and lights a pipe

gather round kids. this one might be a little long

one note: 

on the same night that orpheus falls, persephone, when she finally composes herself enough, marches up to hades. the fury is still present in the vitriol with which she speaks. “you can’t have done that,” she says. “you can’t have just thrown him away. he didn’t sign any papers. you can’t make him work.” 

 “there were no papers,” he agrees, “but prisoners do not get papers.”

ok jumping back to kind-of-present

it’s taking a while to find orpheus. (too much of a while)

in between work and searching for him, both of which already take up so much of her time, eurydice... makes her attempts to craft a new guitar. hades took orpheus’. he’s going to either want it back or want a new one, and right now, she doesn’t think she can manage the first. it’s going to be important to their escape, she thinks, because she isn’t planning on staying in hadestown forever

but she’s not skilled, and making a real, good, balanced guitar is incredibly hard. she’s not trained. it never comes out good enough, never remotely close to a properly tuned instrument, much less the guitar that seemed to fit perfectly around orpheus' hands. and she doesn’t have a lot of time

so as it turns out, stealing back the original is the more feasible option

problem being: it’s a trophy. hades didn’t smash it, but it’s locked away with his other little “victories,” and he’ll notice it missing eventually

(those other trophies are other relics from other daring humans he’s had to deal with in the past. no one has come as close as orpheus)

but she does have more buffer time than usual because it's also a reminder of the martyr and the fact that his marriage is in the shitter so it's been put out of sight (and out of mind), so she's got a few days or more before he'd notice it's gone

as she keeps searching for orpheus, telling her story and getting help and word of her spreading...

eurydice stirs the town as the ladle stirs in the pot; out of all the feelings her story wakes, the most dominant—and most important—is the anger.

and for the first time, somewhere in some could-be-anywhere part of Hadestown, someone says no.

the age-old, unmoving, immovable hadestown, begins to... change. there’s persephone’s crack in the wall, and then there are others, and then they join, and then there’s unrest, and then there’s the threat of riot.

(which i know i already established but shhh im reiterating my point for this:)

unholy-boi: hades was at least formerly hands on enough to give orders, to scrape down new souls, to preach about the wall

now he locks himself in his office, head in his hands, unable to handle the idea that he’s losing control, and every MOMENT he spends locked away he loses control more, but he needs to think, he needs to think, he needs to think--

The fates are at his door, they sing horrible music, things he doesn’t want to hear, lies and twisted truths to manipulate the king. except he’s not being manipulated at all. this is all him, he knows it--this is just him and his paranoia and the workers' rage beginning to boil on his doorstep.

the god is hidden away in his office and hardly lets anyone in. he isolates himself and Persephone barely even visits this winter anyway.

he wonders if the martyr boy really did fail.

(no, he tells himself--he did fail, because his goal was to get him and his lover out, and now both of them are damned here forever. all of this? an unfortunate side effect.)

hades... was very nearly swayed by orpheus, but took his “obligation” to a city (that he’s already lost) over the slightly breaking voice of orpheus, and the rumors. however when he sent orpheus away, things only got worse. but how could he just crawl to pull orpheus back now? would that not be sacrificing his iron will? his grip of steel? how can he turn to go back if he’s already made his decision? moreover- how can he trust bringing orpheus back will fix anything at all?

a lamenting reprise from hades with orpheus’ guitar would be cool. i don’t know if it’d be in character or appropriate to the story but. its been a fun thing ive been tossing between my hands

it probably starts when he accidentally kicks it over--there’s a trophy room, but he hasn’t cleared a space for the guitar yet. he kicks it over, and when it hits the ground the strings hum Menacingly at him

after the song he puts it away--out of sight, out of mind

show them a crack.

and they’ll tear down the wall.

besides the immediate danger orpheus is in and his voice failing being drives to find him as soon as possible, eurydice also has to worry about the fact that persephone won’t be there to help her soon. the hadestown debacle happens on the onset of proper spring

persephone, for once, is grateful that hades keeps her late. it means she can help the lovers. for so many weeks she sends  that boy’s voice on a wind straight for Eurydice to keep her going

but later is not never, and to the surface one day she goes, and bitter with the absence of his wife Hades drives them all to work harder

which strains Eurydice for time and energy even more

things are harder when she’s gone, as always—eurydice has less time to track him down, and without persephone’s sing-sing wind, pinpointing him is more difficult. 

Hermes is there at the station to greets her when she returns to end the winter

“how is he doing?” “not well.”

“you think they’ll make it?” “i don’t know.”

hermes asks her, “how long?” how long will orpheus last? how long will it take for them to find each other and leave? how long will it take until hades finally snaps? persephone can’t answer any of them

(hermes knows, of course. but he has a role to play)

the summer roars to life on top, but persephone can’t stop thinking about the lovers underground. she knows that orpheus won’t make it through the summer. she sneaks down below for two weeks in june and in that time, a hurricane devastates the surface without her to control it.

the sing-sing wind returns with a straining melody and eurydice wonders. she’s grateful, but she wonders

and... one day it doesn’t. she feels the breeze, but there’s nothing on it.

nothing.

i’ve fucking had enough, eurydice decides. i’m stealing that fucking guitar, hades be damned.

in the sleeping hours of hadestown she sneaks her way up to the palace, dodging searchlights and finding havens, already at an advantage because she’s scoured Hadestown so long and made allies in so many places

and when she makes it up to the palace, the... the guards, the hounds, all of them are... either missing or intoxicated to shit. which is odd, she thinks, but doesn’t question it

she makes it to the trophy room (after a Lot of searching, because she doesn’t have a map)

she walks in and marvels in awe at all the trophies

she wonders about the histories behind all of them

to be honest, she doesnt know that this is where the guitar is, but it’s a pretty good guess (and the right one)

and then there’s a sound at the doorway. eurydice freezes. there’s nowhere for her to hide

she turns, and... it’s persephone in the doorway. persephone, who should not be here.

they lock eyes for a moment, and then she points at a locked case in the back of the room and keeps on walking. whistling loudly. a very “nope, nothing here at all” move

... well, works for her

eurydice breaks off the padlock, gets the guitar, and flees

musing on kampê for unswayed because i really dont want her to just be a two dimensional villain: 

- homegirl is bitter. she used to rule the underground. she was the queen of the dark, and every god and titan knew her name, and hades did fear her too. 

until. well. 

and now she’s practically half-forgotten—a footnote. she hates it. hades and persephone are both her younger and yet they came into her realm, and she was shunted aside to this dismal little hole, and she has to answer to him and she fucking hates it. no mortal up Top or even in hadestown remembers her name. if an old dragon like her has no place out there... if she can’t make herself known in the outside world anymore, then she’ll fucking sear herself into the minds of the people she has, in the only way she knows how

(it should also be noted that homegirl is. unstable. i think kampê sort of violently switches between abhorrently vicious to weirdly sweet and manipulative and anywhere in between depending on the day/time/situation)

(also, she wasn’t always deaf. but being even older than the world, than hades and persephone, things... happen)

also, part of how she keeps everyone here is 1) working them to death and 2) telling them that they’re needed here, and that hadestown is an oasis of stability outside the chaos up Top

orpheus is not doing well.

orpheus forgets.

orpheus wears down.

(orpheus gets sick.)

whoops! That’s An Issue. but still he works, because no one can rest long, and the coal dust and ash and smoke and stifling heat do him zero favors

his focus drifts; he loses track of eurydice, of his songs. the work is first and foremost

you ever get worked so hard and pushed past your physical limit that u get like, spots in your vision and want to throw up? yeah thts orpheus

orpheus doesn’t stop sneaking off every day to the spot at the edge of the Beyond. he doesn’t sing out for help anymore, but... he sits, because he knows that it’s important. this place, where he sang out for a lover he doesn’t remember anymore with songs he no longer has

(cue Flowers but for orpheus, in quiet & faltering breathy lines)

he’s “forgotten a little thing called spring” 

kampê still comes after him to drag him back to work. sometimes it’s wordless; sometimes she yanks him to his feet by the straps of his overalls, sometimes all she needs to do is put a hand on his shoulder and he’ll get up and shuffle back into the mines and smokestacks

other times she asks why he’s still doing this, why he’s still out there. other times she tells him that there’s no need to come out here anymore. he shouldn’t have in the first place. out there--it’s no better than here.

the times when she yells--few and far between, because fetching him is hardly much of a chore anymore--he winces, since it’s not like she has the finest grasp on volume control, being deaf

the scene we see is her sing-speaking some fucked up reprise of hey little songbird, beckoning him to come back and taunting him; i didn’t write this one out but i imagine there’s some fun things to be had with the “vipers and vultures” line

and orpheus sing/saying, in this cracked, hoarse voice, “I wanna lie down forever”

he’s. so tired

(also singing his voice, long since shredded, sorta finally collapses in this one and i don’t imagine him having another sung line after that)

the canary in the coal mine isn’t dead yet but he will be

eurydice goes into overdrive after she steals orpheus’ guitar back

(she strums a few notes on it, and it hums warmly of sunlight in her hands. her chest fills with something indescribable. god, she missed this)

she takes more risks. sneaks out farther and strays out farther. skips out on work, keeps cutting close, nearly gets caught more often than she did before

eventually. finally. finally, she finds him, almost unrecognizable in the crowd masses, but she catches him alone

and she calls out to him, her arm outstretched, “come home with me.”

so i’m going w the “recognize her right away one” and following what i wrote in the first post

BUT: the callback to “come home with me i” with orpheus’ forgetting in “come home with me” “who are you?” is Too Fucking Good and I ended up writing my own lyrics to a “Come Home With Me III”

i’ll post it somewhere. i’d link the google drive link here directly but then tumblr would nerf this post off of the hadestown tag.

 you can play off of that if you want, toy around with it as a sort of small canon divergence to this au, but for the main one i’m rolling with what i already did in the first post... it’s unfinished btw there’s this small section i’m stuck on but i didn’t wanna delay this post anymore for something so minor

eurydice sees how much the beyond has ground him into the dirt—his eyes are sagging and half-lidded, dulled and shadowed and barely focused on her, miserable but too exhausted to feel

she sees this plenty in the ver. w/ Come Home With Me III before he remembers her, and for a moment in the other version before his eyes light up with recognition and suddenly it’s like some of the soot has sloughed off of him with the way his whole face lights up

also she shoves his guitar at him and he’s !! 

it’s. horribly out of tune though. he’s tuning it while they talk a little

but either way: the steam whistle blows, the signal to get back to work, and orpheus is immediately lowkey fearful and trying to get back before kampê catches them

eurydie is completely “oh hell to the fuck no i JUST got you back after MONTHS of searching you are NOT leaving”

orpheus is just afraid of what kampê’ll do if she sees them together, he doesn’t plan on leaving her -- he doesn’t hand her back the guitar, after all

again, kampê isn’t the most stable

then uhhh Whoops they spend too long there and she catches them, a la Papers

cue panic

cue tousling w/ eurydice and somehow getting kampê still enough (probably w pinning) to try and listen to Orpheus and she's just waiting to kick his ass because no music is ever gonna sway her, boy

(the dogs get placated by a few chords plucked out)

he can't sing, but he plays

and the other workers listen, and are moved

they are moved by eurydice's act of coming here after him

by listening to orpheus sing of love

by listening to orpheus forget, and deteriorate 

by having spent months listen to their love last and finally succeed with eurydice's arrival, this stalwart notion of hope

they didn’t ignore it. everybody knows the walls have ears

and they join by accompanying orpheus' song with the heavy metal sounds of the factories

they stomp, they clang, they turn grinding gears that crash and pound, in synchrony 

(where the little wheel squeals and the big wheel groans)

it’s a percussive song that they make

more than a simple tune, a steady beat, more than just the music of machinery

it shakes the entire Beyond with the force of the determination of a thousand weary souls, of the hopeless regaining hope for the first time in centuries

Forced through the percussive force of the entire Beyond, implicit in its rhythm and shake, is the old song. all of this old and rusted metal, all of this harsh machinery, all of it singularly resonant in the notion of la, la la la, la la la 

kampê feels it all through her feet and it rumbles in her chest, it shakes her to her very core and rattles her down to her bones, twists in her gut and forces in her fear and awe, and awe and wonder, and... something else

eurydice feels her loosen under her grip and backs off from pinning her and she still doesn’t move

at some point she lurches forward with her fist raised--orpheus doesn’t stop playing but he does shut his eyes, thinking oh god this is it, and eurydice rushes forward to pull her back

but she just... punches her fist into the ground by his feet

she feels everything not only through her feet but up her arm, more directly to her chest, to her heart, to her head

at last, swayed, feeling far more of something other than fear or anxiety or anger than she ever has in a long time...

she lets them all go

ok ngl there’s some blank spots here. i’m blanking here. idk how to transition

but

it's an entire exodus out from this tiny secluded part of Hadestown

The Great Beyond empties itself out and Kampê is left behind

the move is headed by Orpheus & Eurydice and the mood is very similar to the exodus from Egypt by the jewish folk in the movie Prince of Egypt

including the dark lighting, teal against the warm orange-yellow of their torches (lamps in this case), the wind, the craggy rock, everyone together, overall just the general tone

so during this walk from the Beyond to central hadestown with orpheus & eurydice more or less alone at the front is when Promises happens

it’s. a hell of a lot sadder here, but also a lot softer and more tender

orpheus’ lines are spoken like with Come Home With Me I / II coz he ain’t singin’ anymore. he can’t

and that’s the thing, he can’t sing anymore. 

all those things he said in wedding song, all his promises--that his voice would convince the world to give them everything they need

orpheus... doesn't have that anymore, or at least not nearly as strong, or traditionally lovely as it used to be

his voice was cut into pieces from the nasty shit air in the places he was sent to work

all he has is his guitar, and while he’s good at it, his real strength is in his poetry--it’s his voice and his words that makes the rivers and the trees and birds sing along

the people of the Beyond may have been inspired to percussion by his guitar, but they were more swayed by the notion of their love that was built up over the past few months ever since he got banished

so like. to walk with eurydice and be by her side for as long as he lives, is really all he can really promise her at that point anyway

it's not even that he doesn't have anything and broke the promise that he’d sing them all they needed. he can’t even do that anymore

the voice that charmed her, that said he’d provide for her, is gone

would she love him now, he wonders, if the great poet can no longer sing

and many thanks to @sonyalone for contributing this:

he offers his devotion to her. the only thing he has that’s worth anything, the only thing he can do. and when he does hes so afraid that he'll see in her eyes the understanding disappointment, the pity and "i suppose so" that he fears, but he finally raises his head and he cries because her eyes are shining with joy and love and hope. thats all she ever wanted from him. she just wants to be with him, voice or no, amenities or no, and hes never felt so loved

he weeps, and she weeps--from grief and relief and love--and they hold each other close

sheltering under each other

and they have never been more secure in their love

he walked the whole length of the railroad into hell for her, he survived in the pit for her, she scoured the underworld for him, she came for him and she's keeping him

and the return of all these workers startles everyone in central hadestown and a lot of the work gets stalled out

which, of course, draws hades’ attention.

tune in next time for more on this shit ✌️

(pt i) (pt ii) (pt iii) (you are here) (pt iv) (pt. v) (epilogue) (askblog)