#dreamling ancient greece au

[samsalami66]

Last Line Tag Game

Tagged by @embroiderling in this! Thank you so much, love!!

I'm actually rather excited to share something for this, as I've started on writing something for my Dreamling Ancient Greece AU!

Behind the man, another figure stepped out of the carriage. At first Hob could merely make out a shock of black, a flash of pale skin. But when the older man turned to approach the Eirene, he was met with all the beauty of a distant star, a single gem caught in a sea of darkness.  The boy was beautiful, with hair made of Night and skin like moonlight. And his eyes, they caught the light of the sun just as the lazy waves of the sea did, breaking it into endless shades of blues and greens and purples.  Suddenly, Hob found he understood what Zeus must have seen when looking upon Ganymede.  He, too, wanted to sweep this boy off into his arms and keep him safe. Forever, if possible. 

The boy followed his father with his head bowed and shoulders drawn high, looking so incredibly frightened. It looked wrong to Hob, for a boy this beautiful should never have reason to fear. A boy like him should only know love and comfort and joy, and Hob ached to see a smile on this face, which must have been carved by Aphrodite herself. 

And there we go with Hob falling head over heels for this otherworldly boy he's seeing for the first time in his life. It will be the start of something grand!

Tagging @just-another-fantasy-simp , @kydrogendragon , @twainxavier and @mid0khan of course without any pressure, I'm just excited to see what you guys are working on!

[im-not-corrupted]

Constellations

So @samsalami66​ and I are writing an ancient Greece AU for Dreamling, and now you get to have a couple drabbles that are really just excuses for character studies, at least on my part. Here’s Constellations, in which Morpheus is a very dramatic and sad teenager, taking place before he and Hob meet :)

----

The moon was a harbinger of peace. A thing of patience, the moon waited every day for her own moment to shine, and when she did, she brought a sense of serenity. She bathed the lands in soft, pale light, a gift to those who waited long enough to see her reach her apex.

The moon was a blessing. A respite. A promise of quiet after a day spent under the noise and heat of the sun. With the moon came the night, with its stars and its shadows and rising tides lapping at the beaches. From her place in the sky, surrounded by stars—some of which Morpheus could name by heart, for they were engraved into his mind by this point—she welcomed all who found peace in her realm to join her under the stars, a benevolent god, a quiet and silent friend.

Morpheus gazed up at her where he sat in the grass, a faint and contented smile upon his face. It was unfamiliar, and his cheeks hurt with it somewhat. Her soft light painted his skin in silver, and he breathed in deep.

The night was a time for quiet. The night was a break from the noise of Athens, from the demands of his family. The dark of night embraced him in its shadows, an old and familiar companion he loved dearly, broken only by that soft light.

He was not supposed to be here. He was not supposed to be out this late.

The night called to him, though, and he was powerless to resist it. He did not wish to anyway.

When the clouds rolled in to hide the moon behind them, Morpheus diverted his gaze. He scanned the skies and its stars with eager eyes, searching for one specific collection of pin-prick lights.

He found it soon enough. Of course he did—he found this one constellation often enough that he thought, should the situation demand it, he would be able to find it blind. Would be able to turn his face towards its light, in blindness or in death. The Lyra constellation twinkled up there in the sky, the eagle's wings spread wide and Orpheus’s lyre grasped in its talons.

This constellation was his favourite. A tragedy told through a collection of stars, a story he knew by heart. He knew many stories, for he liked to collect them, but this one—a tale of hope and doubt, a tale of love turned into a tragedy—this one was his favourite.

He remained here, embraced by the night’s quiet and the moon’s gift of peace, until the first rays of dawn broke the night. Until he had to return, reluctant and exhausted, back to his home to face another day.

----

Make sure to follow Sam to see their own contributions to this fic, including more drabbles!! We’ll both be posting under the tag dreamling ancient greece au if you feel like seeing more of this at some point!

[landwriter]

58 for the Spotify fic synopsis thing

It's Now We Are Free from the Gladiator OST. I have no idea why it's there, only that the answer is obvious: I would pull #5 from my list of Concepts That I'm Not Allowed To Think Further About Until My WIP List Is Smaller:

gladiator hob and some kind of fancy guy dream. angst. homoeroticism. bodyguard au?

I know even less than Gladiator knew about that time and place in history, and am, upon actually thinking about the concept, not the person to write this at all, but, you know, brawler Hob, lordly Dream, class differences and baths and patronage and pining. Maybe Hob is actually a wrestler, or athlete. It doesn't matter. As long as he's got big strong muscles and chip on his shoulder. As long as Dream falls in love with him at first sight. Humans AU with a rich background of sociopolitical action I would need to go back to school for. Hurt/Comfort, capital-D Drama, probably lot of grapes or something. Political intrigue. Stolen kisses. Gratuitous scenes of Hob sweating during a variety of activities. Thigh-fucking. Poisoning attempts. Bacchanalia. Markets filled with equal parts treasures and cutpurses. Old men in robes monologuing. An escape into the night. Lovingly poetic descriptions of Hob's hairy chest for @moorishflower. That's the sort of thing I'd write.

[deviantly-inspired]

Cassandra in the Dreaming AU • Dreamling

This is a short Lil intro to an AU I'm working on for an outsider POV on Dreamling. I've always loved the mythos of Cassandra. There isn't much to it yet beyond a very general outline, but I wanted to post this here to start. Mostly because my work break is almost over, and I need to be able to find this later lol

If you like this let me know. It's been am age since I wrote anything but I'm rather liking this so far.

●●●

CASSANDRA STANDS BEFORE GODS, FURIOUS AND SHIVERING. The smiling woman, Cassandra knows, is Death. Not Thanatos or Hades. Something bigger, older than both by far. Unnamable beyond that which she is. The other, male and dour, she feels she can almost recognize. Someone Cassandra perhaps has seen once or maybe often, but never quite took note of.

"Hello Cassandra," Death says. "I'm sure you're quite confused."

Cassandra has known Gods and Kings. Before Death, each of them seems so young. Death's smile is so old it reminds her of the ruins Agamemnon would tell her of, the ancient peoples who fell before Greece. Cassandra nods.

"My brother here wishes to offer you a place in his realm," Death says. "Should you agree, I will allow it."

"Brother?" Cassandra asks, looking once more to the male. "Sleep?"

Death tosses her head back and laughs. She looks every bit of what Cassandra imagined her mother meant when she had said Death was kind.

"Close!" Death congratulates. "Most of your kind know we're siblings of a kind."

"I am Dream. Your people call me Morpheus."

Morpheus. Of course Cassandra recognizes him now, and wonders at how she ever could have forgotten: she has known Morpheus all of her life, after all.

"You would offer I stay with you?" Cassandra asks, slow and cautious. There are no stories on this strange Death, and nearly none on Morpheus: he is not known for kindness nor cruelty, and is barely spoken of at all, except by those most devoted to him. She has never heard of Morpheus offering sanctuary to passing souls. Has she been forsaken even by Hades, for spurning Apollo so?

Morpheus has very sad eyes.

"Your story is a common one," he says. "Apollo is not half as clever as he believes, to curse you so. Across the sea of stars in every direction there are stories like yours. Each shapes there people evermore, and each is welcome here should they wish it."

Her mind feels wild, like a frothing horse. Her heart no longer beats, but Cassandra knows that if it did it would be running wild.

"Why would you offer this? What have you to gain?"

Morpheus has a strange sort of look to him. Cassandra will later decide that what she saw was grief.

"I am all stories, unforgotten. I am all libraries, unburned. I've room in me for yours as well, should you wish it. What have I to gain from not cutting my own throat, or biting my own tongue?"

It makes no sense to Cassandra. Hardly anything has since the moment she learned that Apollo would let her whole world burn for the sake of pride. Death is quiet and non judgemental when Cassandra looks to her. Morpheus seems to almost be painted onto the background of wherever it is they are. This floating nothingness of stars.

"Will you believe me, lord morpheus?" Cassandra asks. She is surprised by her own wavering voice, and the tears that wish to fall from her eyes. She let's them.

"Apollo has no power here," morpheus says. "You shall never speak prophecy again except when you wish it. And while I can't ensure all in my realm will believe you, none will be bound to find you a liar."

"I will stay with you," Cassandra says. Morpheus looks surprised. It firms her resolve. "Lord Morpheus, I will stay with you, please."

"Of course."

Morpheus extends a hand towards her, and Cassandra takes it with only a moment's hesitation. Death's smile bolsters Cassandra's will, and she reaches out, taking lord Morpheus by the hand. It is not prophecy that Cassandra feels as she steps in line with the god of dreams, but something even Apollo could not steal from her.

Cassandra knows: this is where she is meant to be.

[merrymorningofmay]

5, 7, 17!!!

omg thank you!!!

5. What do you wish someone would ask you about [insert fic]? Answer it now!

ok it's gonna be more like a fun fact but like. in my capri fic i hc'd that patras is a byzantium-inspired culture, because byzantium is sexy + an obvious choice for a "country that's a distant cousin of this other country which is overtly inspired by ancient greece". but ACTUALLY when my bestie and i discussed this we noticed how the king+prince of patras are named torgeir and torveld (i.e. norse names), but the toponyms "patras" and "bazal" do not actually sound all that norse, so we went "oh so a non-germanic people ruled by germanic dudes. LIKE IN KYIVAN RUS" and kyivan rus patras has lived rent free in our hearts since then

7. Any worldbuilding you’re particularly proud of?

CRIES the js&mn fic i'm currently writing is set like 700 years before the canon timeline so i'm doing like 80% of the worldbuilding from scratch....... currently i'm kinda proud of my latest hc that between john uskglass, thomas of dundale, and william of lanchester william is the only one with Some native english blood in him, and the only native (middle) english speaker, the other two being uuhhh french-to-fairy bilingual normans. it's almost like complex language situations resonate with my lived experiences somehow, what could it be xD

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

woof, it's gotta be the sandman one, though it's not an AU per se? basically i believe in dreamling supremacy for morpheus!dream, but i also think that daniel!dream/corinthian 2.0 would be a super fun dynamic to unpack, what with the "we are both Somewhat the monster and his creator who had to kill him, but we are also different persons now, but also kind of not really, and also i remember holding baby you in my arms, but also i'm like 2 days older than you and still figuring stuff out". admittedly it's A Lot to unpack and i don't think i'll commit, but yeah

[samsalami66]

Last Line Tag Game

I was tagged by the lovely @kydrogendragon , thank you so much dear!!!

My last line was for my Ancient Greece Au, who the people on the server already know everything about XD. For those who aren't on there: Spartan!Hob, Athenian!Dream, they're still babies at the moment. (Also psst @okilokiwithpurpose in case you're still interested in this fic, it's back!)

“Would you show me around?”  Hob nodded immediately and tugged his new friend along, down the length of the building and towards the main entrance of the agoge from where they could make out the other boys starting their training. For once, Hob did not care that he was not the first in line, the one to push hardest. Impressing the eirene was the least of his worries when Morpheus’ hand still held his, soft and unblemished and fitting so perfectly into his own.  He showed Morpheus everything: the dining hall, the kitchen, the classrooms. It was a heady feeling, to show someone around this place he had grown up in, for longer even than all the other boys. And Morpheus was so enthusiastic about it, allowed Hob to tell him tales of the trouble he would get himself into as a child, all while talking too fast and too loud and gesturing too much, adhering to none of his previous training. It felt like all that hard work of the eirene had simply been wiped away, Morpheus’ curious eyes and tentative smile uncovering a part of Hob which he had forced down in order to fit in with the others, to appease his elders. But Dream did not judge, did not ask him to stop, to calm down.  He only listened, and so Hob talked.  He talked about that one time he had sneaked into the kitchen after he had not eaten for a day and stolen a piece of bread. But one of the cooks had caught him, half a loaf of bread already stuffed in his mouth, and how he had been lucky to only be thrown out of the kitchens and denied food for another day, instead of receiving a beating for his efforts. Or when he had found a crumbling wall at the far east of the building, which he had used to get to the roof of the agoge at night in order to watch the stars as he fell asleep, when the expectations would become too much to handle.  Morpheus squeezed his hand during that story, a sympathetic smile on his lips, and Hob knew his new friend understood, without judgement.

Tagging, of course without pressure: @just-another-fantasy-simp @bazzybelle and @mid0khan

[samsalami66]

WIP ask game

I was tagged by the wonderful @five-and-dimes, thank you so much love!!

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I really have so very few WIPs I'm actively working on I'll just write down some of the in progress names of the ideas that are swirling around in my head!

Soccer au:

Destruction arc

A day with the Riggers

Lawsuit

Visiting the Dead

World Cup

Others:

Keep Your Friends Close (epic crossover)

Baldurs Gate crossover

Ehhhh Actually Writing Greece AU

Secret Service

Tagging whoever comes to my mind, sorry if you've been tagged already!

@kydrogendragon @bazzybelle @mid0khan @sable-simp @valeriianz

[samsalami66]

Hello! I know it's been 54625 years but I wondered if it was still ok to ask about fics for the WIP Game?

If so can I ask about 'Snow avalanche fic'? (and also if you have some more sneak peak/headcanon/anything you feel like saying about the ancient Greece au I'm there for it too!!!)

If it's too late or you don't feel like it I understand of course!!

Anyways, hope you have a good day 😊

Hey love! It could have been a million years and I still would love to answer any and all asks concerning the WIP game, so no worries about that! :D

So the snow avalanche fic was a bit of a spur in the moment kind of idea, where one of my random thought processes just lead to a random ass fic. The only premise I had for it was "Hob lives in the mountains and sees an avalanche close to his house. He has an ex-avalanche rescue dog and decides to look for himself if there's anyone trapped under the snow, knowing how crucial time was in these scenarios. He does find someone, and that someone is Dream."

It would probably evolve into a snowstorm starting up and Hob having to take Dream in until the storm is over.

Have a little snippet of that:

"Fuck that," Hob muttered to himself, grabbing his snow gear and Shaxberd's leash. His dog was quickly bounding towards the door, his old bones filled with more energy than Hob had seen in the mutt in years. It was almost as if Shaxberd could feel the importance of their venture outside, as if all his long since buried rescue-dog instincts had been kicked into overdrive. "Come on, boy. Let's find this unlucky bastard." And with that, Hob and his dog stepped into the biting cold, wind whipping around their hair as if they were branches of a newly sprouted tree. Shaxberd ran through the snow, maneuvering the woods around their cabin with an ease Hob could only dream of. His knee ached in the cold, the pain shooting up his spine with every step Hob took towards the slope, but he fought to continue his jog, a pace he knew he should be able to keep up until they reached their destination, at least if he managed to push the pain back and bury it beneath his rising adrenaline. When Hob caught sight of the slope, fallen trees and dark rubble scattered throughout the blanket of white snow, he was breathing hard, trembling from the cold, and clenching his teeth against the throbbing pain in his knee. The area caught in the avalanche was fucking massive, big enough that a whole search and rescue team might have had trouble to skim through it all. But today's team was nothing more than an old man and his dog, and Hob prayed to God it was enough to find this person before they died beneath the snow. "Go search, boy," Hob called over the howling wind.

Now, to Ancient Greece AU. A lot of stuff happened in my personal life that eventually had me delete the words I had written for the au so far. So, sadly, I can't offer another snippet for this.

I also don't know when and how I'll be able to start writing for it again, since my situation around the fic is a bit fucked XD. Here's for hoping I'll find some energy for it soon!

Now, I will however at least share some plans and headcanons with you, since I still rather love my plans for it!

So, one plan I have for the fic is to give Morpheus and Hob (whose full name is Cobon in this fic btw) a little symbolic place to meet at every year, to spend time together, away from the agoge and prying eyes. I have decided some time ago that it would be a peach tree. They will have a whole lot of emotional moments underneath that tree, especially connected to their growing relationship. They'd also watch the peaches ripen as the month of Morpheus' goes on and on the last day they would eat one of the peaches together and say goodbye before they would have to part again for a year.

I have heaps upon heaps of plans and headcanons for this, so feel free to ask me more if you'd like!

Have a good day love :D

[samsalami66]

Hello, (and sorry if I'm being annoying)

I don't know if you are still writing the dreamling Sparta/Athens AU (no pressure, I love what you've already written!!), but I happen to have stumbled upon an history magazine and it immediately made me think of your fic so I just thought I'd share it 😊

Anyway, have a good day/night 🙂

Hey! :D

Don't you worry about annoying at all, I'm actually jumping happily up and down at this ask (and every ask in general). I'm overjoyed to hear you like our ancient Greece au and seeing the magazine made you think of it! Hopefully there was some useful information in it :D!

As to if we still write it... let me tell you that we are absolutely doing so! There's an outline for about 10 chapters so far (and plot for probably another 10 at least XD). We are also 6k into the fic and planning to really start writing it for an upcoming event!

And since we're 6k in already... how about a snippet? This part isn't written by me, but by my wonderful @im-not-corrupted and its just fucking perfect.

Hob Gadling first saw Morpheus from a distance. (Of course, he didn't know his name at first, and so called him the Stranger for the single day they remained strangers.) The Stranger was not the first person Hob saw who wasn’t from Sparta, but he was certainly the most memorable. With his eyes—a beautiful ocean blue, so deep he found himself sucked into their depths even as far away as he was—and his skin pale as moonlight, Hob found himself staring. He looked, for lack of better word, delicate. Not at all like the Spartan boys he knew for the grand ten years of his life, like the warriors he looked up to and wished to be one day. If anything, this boy looked so...so out of place, almost otherworldly.  Even at the grand age of ten—something that felt so very much even then, as everything did to children—the Stranger held himself apart from everything else, like he didn't belong there among them. Hob thought that was easy enough to believe—he looked as though he had been carved from marble, looked like he would bleed gold instead of red like the rest of them. It was not too difficult to imagine that this boy belonged on Olympus instead of the streets of Sparta, and Hob found himself enamoured then and there. The boys next to him, who Hob hardly remembered were even there with his head too full of the Stranger, scoffed at the new boy. Hob didn't quite understand why—though he only set his eyes upon the boy for a single moment, though the Stranger hadn't even glanced his way, he wished to know him. He wished to talk to him, something he didn't think he, with the dirt under his fingernails and scrapes on his knees, was entitled to. Even at such a small age as ten, Hob knew this Stranger belonged somewhere far greater than by his side. He wore clothes too fine to be anything but the son of some important ambassador from one of the other city-states. Surely, any attempt to talk to this Stranger would only taint him, stain him. Still, Hob's stubbornness was deep-rooted, even then. And he wanted. He wanted the full attention of those eyes upon him, wanted to see what made his Stranger hold himself so strangely. He certainly wasn't supposed to be the friend of somebody so otherworldly, so brilliant, but what did that matter? He wanted to be friends with him, and he squared his shoulders then and there and decided, simply, that he would.

Have a wonderful day, love! Thanks for taking the time to send this ask!

[samsalami66]

The Heat of the Fight

Alright so @im-not-corrupted and I are working on an ancient Greece AU for Dreamling which I am so terribly excited for that I begged to share some drabbles before ever posting this fic. (It's going to be a Big Thing okay, I get to be excited)

Anyways, here you have The Heat of the Fight, a little training montage of teenage Hob in the Agoge, in which he is very stubborn, as per usual, taking place before him and Morpheus meet!

-----

The sun was a hunter. Creeping, approaching, preying on her unsuspecting victims. Sometimes she hid behind clouds, a promise of peace, but only for moments. Peace didn't last, not in this world. It was only ever followed by another attack, by efforts multiplied. Silence before a storm. Breaths held before bloodshed. 

The sun was a soldier. Bowing before drawing her sword. Rays of dawn like a gentle caress, a gentle smile, before noon turned it into an ugly grimace, caress suddenly stinging like an ill-willed hand to the face. When she stood high, sword slashing through the lands of Sparta, there were only few who could parry her attacks for long. Fewer even, who still stood fighting when her attacks would seize, when she would bow and retreat again, leaving those left in armistice until morning.

Hob Gadling was one of the few left standing. 

He had been fighting — the sun herself, but also his teacher — since dawn. The aftermath was visible on his skin, tangible in the blood trickling down his neck, his bare chest, mingling there with the blood he bled for the sun, the cruellest of warriors. He was wrung out, his muscles burning, fingers cramping around the hilt of his sword. It had slipped from his grip an hour or four before, had left a deep cut on his right hand where he had tried to grab it. The blood on the hilt was dry now, sticking to the slowly mending wound, sending flashes of white pain through Hob's body, up his spine and to his brain, where it rested as a dull throb right behind his eyes. 

He was tired. But there were no complaints amongst soldiers. No space, nor time for them. There were orders, rules and pride. Hob disliked all of them, thought them compressing, constricting. No matter. It was all he knew. All he could be. 

He was Spartan, born the son of a warrior who died defending their land. Hob was born to protect, to breathe his dying breath in battle. To follow in his father's footsteps, in those of all his ancestors. Fighting was his legacy. His function. His purpose. 

Hob took a deep breath as he readied himself for the next attack, willing the pain in his hand and chest away, allowing his muscles to loosen enough to function. 

"Don't you have enough yet, Gadling?" 

His sword swung loosely in his hand as Hob rounded his teacher. 

"I will have enough when I meet Death herself on the field of battle." 

The teacher's eyes glinted with the sun's silent retreat. 

"Prove it, soldier." 

Hob braced himself for the force of his opponent's attack, for the pain spreading through his limbs as he parried and turned into his own offence, blood and sweat forcing his hands, guiding him into swing after swing of brutal attacks. 

He almost forgot to stop his hand before decapitating his teacher with a fatal blow. 

-----

I beg you, follow Eris to read their contributions to this fic (which include more juicy drabbles from Dream's POV). We'll be posting under the tag dreamling ancient greece au if you feel like seeing more!!

Ideas for drabbles? Questions???? Please do ask :D!

[samsalami66]

Another addition to the Dreamling Ancient Greece au I am working on with @im-not-corrupted , a short little drabble called Reed Beds in which Hob collects fresh reed in the biting cold to continue a woven bed boys in the agoge had to make by themselves during their first stage of training. Enjoy!!

---

The Eurotas felt like a respite in Hob's weekly routine, an oasis in the cruel desert that was training in the agoge. The sun's sword still slashed through the lands, her attacks never seemed to seize in summer, but the soft stream of the Eurotas felt like a shield held before him, a protector that would envelop him in his entirety, soothing every ache in his bruised body.

It was a blessing, one the Spartans received from Eurotas himself ages ago.

Of course it couldn't last. Nothing ever did, after all.

During winter Hob's oasis would warp and twist into his very personal hell, growing fangs of frost and claws of ice, burning his bare feet until his skin would shed and his extremities turned an ugly grey. The sun could not do this, not anymore. Hob's body had become used to her heat, to the onslaught of her attacks, the brutality of them. His feet still burned when he stepped on raw stone, the heat an ever present companion with every step he took.

But the cold was different, as it did not simply burn the soles of his feet where they pressed against the rough surface of the ground. It seeped into Hob's legs, into his bloodstream, like roots crawling up his body to bind him to the ground. Never were they enough to make him stumble, to make Hob fall to the ground so they could catch onto his arms, like the chains that bound Prometheus in his endless torture.

No, Hob pushed on, shook off the chains and set one foot in front of the other. Still, he could not handle the dwindling feeling in his feet well, could not stop the horror that would grow in his throat when the colour of his skin started to change. Some of his friends had lost toes to the cold, and their screams as the doctors had treated them still gave him nightmares.

It was those nightmares replaying in his mind that truly had Hob shiver as he stepped foot into the freezing waters of the Eurotas, the fear of losing to the cold for the first time in his life pressing on his lungs as he waded through the shallow waters. The stream was lapping at Hob's chest as he pulled a small knife from a sheath on his belt.

The temperature of the river had his teeth clattering, but Hob merely clenched his teeth against it and waded further into the stream, further into the current that could so easily drag him beneath the surface.

It didn't.

Hob was steadfast, completely impenetrable in the torrential river. With his feet digging into the soft ground, bracing him against the forces trying to drag him under, Hob managed to reach the reed bed on the other side. He took his knife to the thick grasses, cutting off bundles of long stems, a concentrated frown breaking his young features into a soft grimace.

These would do for the next row of his bed, thick but bendable, perfect for weaving. Hob nodded to himself as he bound the grasses together with a rope he had made from the thinner ends of those he had collected about a week ago. Once he secured his finds for the day, Hob waded back to the edge of the river and climbed out of it, allowing the full body shiver to take over his consciousness for just a moment. His teeth clattered, his hands shook violently, and for a moment the black behind his eyelids turned into a blinding white.

When it was over, Hob set his jaw and started walking again, the sun waving mockingly at him from the distance as the roots of cold grabbed for his ankles every step back towards the city.

---

Make sure to follow Eris for more wonderful content! You can find all of our drabbles and additions to the au under the tag dreamling ancient greece au, in case you want to have it all in one spot!