#catch theseus tryna put his own spin on things as always

[synoikismos]

« Τα μεγαλεία να φοβάσαι, ω ψυχή. Και τες φιλοδοξίες σου να υπερνικήσεις αν δεν μπορείς, με δισταγμό και προφυλάξεις να τες ακολουθείς. Και όσο εμπροστά προβαίνεις, τόσο εξεταστική, προσεκτική να είσαι. »

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❛  My soul, guard against pomp and glory. And if you can't curb your ambitions, at least pursue them hesitantly, cautiously. And the higher you go, the more searching and careful you need to be.  ❜

————— now playing :  (  🎵 )  ain’t no grave — crooked still

GUEST CARD

— ✹ FULL NAME   :::   theseus — ✹ TITLE   :::   (  deposed  /  exiled  )  king of athens, prince of troezen, son of poseidon  /  sounds impressive but all of these are worthless because he’s on that hashtag Exile Livin’! — ✹ BIRTHPLACE   :::   troezen, attica — a former kingdom southwest of athens, brought formally under the athenian fold by theseus ushering in the synoikismos and dismantling cretan hegemony over the lands of attica — ✹ LAND / KINGDOM   :::   kingdom of athens  —  once a simple polis, theseus has managed to expand the aforementioned kingdom, politically unifiying the various other political units of attica into one coherent political state under athenian rule — ✹ AGE   :::   thirty-one  /  born on the henē kai nea of poseideon  /  translated: the last day of the month that is approximately december or january  

AFFILIATIONS

— ✹ PARENTS   :::   (  poseidon  /  aegeus  )  & aethra — ✹ SIBLINGS   :::   yeah .... a fuck-ton from poseidon but im not gonna list all that  /  possibly? medus? from aegeus? — ✹ LOVER(S)   :::   taylor swift vc : got a long list of ex-lovers  /  cassandra  (  arguably literally ghosted her  )  /  ariadne  (  former, rip  )  /  a fuck-ton of others probably  /  pirithous  (  technically? deceased  )  /  helen  (  he wishes  )  /  to be plotted?      — ✹ PATRON DEITY   :::   n/a  /  poseidon, you coward, give your son your patronage! — ✹ PROTEGE   :::   n/a   /   he’s accepting applications if yall want to ig???

INSIGHT

— ✹ VICES   :::   diligence  /  fortitude  /  patience  (  arguably  ) — ✹ VIRTUES   :::   greed  /  pride  /  lust — ✹ MORAL ALIGNMENT   :::   true neutral  — ✹ PERSONALITY TYPE   :::   intj-a  /  3w4 8w7 5w6 sx/sp  /  choleric-sanguine  /  true neutral  /  slytherclaw  /  spiritually a scorpio probably  /  philosophically a rational egoist  /  politically  (  and i’m going to use an anachronism here  )  a max stirner devotee à la union of egoists kinda thing? — ✹ MOST FORTUNATE MEMORY   :::   it was inevitable: the sight of the sea would always remind him of what he lost. it is a curiosity to associate such deprivation with the clearest of joys; but as he has come to learn: there is no light without dark. thus, there is no joy without despair. he thinks about stolen kisses in evergreen gardens filled with sycamore trees; he thinks about a hand clutched while whispered words tell tales of the promise of a new life; he thinks about secret meadows and fights turned into tender caresses; he thinks about labyrinths and spools of thread; he thinks about love lost and love gained and love mourned. through it all, he does not think of the memories by themselves, but of them as chapters to his narrative. his most fortunate memory isn’t any particular memory; instead, it’s the memory of memories, subtle yet succinct, ever-there but rarely felt. it is the act of remembering that moves him so: standing on a shore, looking out into the waters, the sea breeze in his hair. his most precious possession is not even a ghost; but the ghost of a ghost, like a mirror reflected on itself, the concatenation of nostalgia. for a moment—a brief, glorious moment where all is clear, all is lucid, all is bright, all is beautiful—he thinks he finally understand what his mother meant. — ✹ AN  ACT THEY WOULD ERASE   :::   verdant fields and clear blue skies, rolling around in meadows, the promise of eternity in but a single moment—the memories are still there yet the actors are gone. one has been twisted into the worst version of himself; the other is stuck still in the underworld. life cannot be lived without regrets, and theseus has many, but this is the one that always comes to mind when he thinks about his failings. there is the ghost of a whisper on his ear, his lips mouthing the words that would condemn them both: do we not deserve this? yet even as this memory stirs the most profound regret in him, a sly voice, almost sounding like himself, asks: but you would do it all over again, would you not? and he can never answer, because he does not want to lie. — ✹ BELIEF ABOUT FATE   :::   this is a story you already know, retold in a dozen different ways throughout the unfolding of history. when you play with the gods, there is always an element of danger; but what is life if not to risk daily? the god might think they are beholden to nobody, but fate is a higher order still. nature has whims all of her own, and as one system rises, so too must another fall. this is how it went from chaos to creation to the reign of the titans to their downfall in the titanomachy. destiny waxes and wanes. the future is the past is the present. there are no gods; there are no masters. there is only action. the rest is silence.

RECOGNITION

— ✹ NOTABLE PHYSICAL TRAITS   :::   there are various scars that litter his body, remnants from his many encounters of battling with monsters and other men. he doesn’t speak about it much; instead he only speaks of victories, of triumph. loss and weakness are meant for other men, mortal men, men whose veins aren’t touch by ichor’d sanguinity. — ✹ NOTABLE QUIRKS, IDIOSYNCRACIES   :::   his rather odd insistence on always having a light by him, even while sleeping—perhaps most especially while sleeping. it is an odd habit that is borne from his many months swaddled in half-darkness in the underworld, a habit that threatens to burn him and everything around him down by a mere gust of strong wind should the fates decree it so; but perhaps he would rather have such a fate than live in darkness once more. aside from that, there is his rather stunning overconfidence—almost too unbelievable to be true. perhaps it’s a ploy, some kind of scheme to make you think something about him—but to what end? and does it not seem he believes in his own myths the more he retells them? — ✹ REPUTATION AMONG MORTALS   :::   there’s a certain tenacity about him, some flavour of vivacity, maybe even some sort of sagacity. he’s the man who could, the man who did, and the man who would—even if doing all three kills him. his name is spoken of in revered whispers before his all-too sudden fall from grace. two years have passed since he boldly dared where no other would do—two years he suffered and two years he survived—and any sane man would have then lived a life of quiet, retiring into domesticity. yet here he is again, once more daring, once more cloying, once more attempting. what can one do but watch as a man tries again and again? maybe it’s with pity you choose to regard him; maybe it’s with a certain incredulity. still, you are watching him—and perhaps that’s all he ever wanted. //  tl;dr: resident florida man does it again!   — ✹ REPUTATION AMONG GODS   :::   what does one do with one who dares think he can flout the natural order? theseus is a man—nothing but a man—yet he’s descended from one of them, even if unrecognised, and he dares think of himself as heralding a new age. for now, he’s an annoying fly buzzing about, buzzing about for the next careful window of opportunity. swat him away, won’t you? you’d be doing yourselves a favour.   // aka: olympians HATE him! he tried to steal one of them with his bro and he’s still out here thriving!  && you, too, can be like him with this 5 drachmae trick! LEARN THE TRUTH NOW!  

MUTUAL HEADCANON

What man, after entering Paradise, would seek to go back to earth ? What man, having known Helen, could be content with anybody else ?

the salt-sea waves laps up at the edges of the boat and there is the aftertaste of brine in the air. around them, there are the fishermen going about their business, off to cast their nails for this early morning, heads cast down as if to ignore the magnificent sail of the ship docked in their desolate land. in the distance, a white twisted something of a tree, already dead yet still standing. troezen was no athens, no sparta, no troy: it is nothing but void, empty and barren—of heroes, of legends, of ichor. yet here they stand, two holy individuals lifted up by their divine parentage, looking like stark figures against the ashen landscape. 

(  this is not the end, this is the beginning.  )

water crash against rocks. there is the smell of a storm in the air. if he is to leave, he must leave soon—and yet, where once there is nothing but bold willingness, there is now the piquant feeling of worry, some tinge of regret. he becomes half-moored, half-alight: feet tethered to sandy beaches even as his ears welcome the call of the sea.

❛  it will be as if i never left,  ❜  he says, already knowing that it is not as easy as he makes it out to be to her. 

he unfolds his hands, revealing a sliver of a thing: an apple seed, nothing more and nothing less. he takes her hand, and puts it on her palm, closing her first around it as if it is something precious.  ❛  Τῷ μήλῳ βάλλω σε· σὺ δ΄ εἰ μὲν ἑκοῦσα φιλεῖς με͵ δεξαμένη τῆς σῆς παρθενίης μετάδος,  ❜  he says, and that is all that needed to be said.