futurology | text, @TARANTO, day after the saloon fire

text, @TARANTO, day after the saloon fire

hey guys guess what: blankets!!! me and TF to the fucking rescue, we rustled up like 40 of these bad boys
super cozy, some nice patterns. one of them has a robot wolf on it
it was also all entirely legal

they're ALMOST free, all you gotta do is tell me a story then come get one (i'm by those spiky ass fat plants that bleed if you knock them over)

also since i have 40 and there's more than 40 of us, i guess also pick someone to get cozy with

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[ Her face falls sympathetically. Not that she agrees with his take on it, but she can see where he's coming from — and that the regret is genuine. That's worth something.

That's mainly why she moves forward, reaching up to sling arms around his neck and pull him down into a hug. Even if this is something she's gotta yell at him for, at least he deserves this much. ]

[He is surprised to be caught in her embrace, yet at once he welcomes this comfort, receiving her with his hands mindful upon her waist and his cheek pressed to her hair. While the blanket begins to slip from his shoulders, the warmth of her arms offers recompense.]

Ramir...

[He lets silence drape them for a moment ere he softly sighs.]

For all that I am joyed to welcome my dear companion back to the country of the living, I long for my lovely-haired Olivia even so.

Edited 2016-12-22 02:10 (UTC)

[ She pulls back to leave her arms still draped, but be able to shoot a sympathetic look up at him. ]

Yeah, that sucks. Really, I feel you. [ She offers his chest a pat. ] But you can't have them both, you know? And you picked him, sounds like.

[Nor does he yet withdraw his arms from her.]

Thus I find myself a stranger once more. In my dear native land a man would hardly be amiss to keep wife and lover both. Certainly I would understand her jealousy if I were to lie with another woman, but what comparison can be drawn between wife and brother in arms?

[So natural it seems to him, so integrated into his way of life, that he can scarce find the words to explain the nuances to one who stands on the outside. The effort is apparent in the lines that mark his brow and in downward curve of his lips.]

Yet if this is not Olivia's way...then no winning words shall ever turn her heart.

[ That last line has her nodding, satisfied that, if nothing else, Achilles has at least come to the right conclusion. ]

They won't, yeah. And you're gonna hurt her more if you try.

[ She finally pulls away and retreats back to her blanket-throne, but pats the blanket next to her invitingly after she flops to a seat of her own. This isn't a while-standing kind of conversation. ]

A whole lot of us don't do romance that way, you know? We wanna know we're the most important person in their life. Just us.

[Yet to him it does not feel like a satisfactory conclusion. He had let Olivia flee, watching with his tongue dumb and his feet so heavy as her figure faded smaller and smaller, but he cannot yet accept that he must let her go for good. He is a man privileged to have always obtained that which he desires: his relationship with Olivia had bloomed from his stubbornness in just this fashion. So too is he privileged to have never felt so sharply until now the sting of rejection, the ache of lost love.

Achilles sits beside Ramir, upset of countenance as he considers her words.]

Then am I never to have a wife while I hold Patroclus fast within my heart?

[ He's at a perfect height on this blanket-throne for her to lean her head companionably on his shoulder, which she does. ]

I dunno, maybe if you find the right one. Which I guess isn't Olivia. Some people are fine with sharing, but I'm gonna warn you, it's the minority. And it's definitely the kind of thing someone's gotta know about going into it with you.

[There was a time when he might have filled with rage for being spurned in this manner; he might have argued that Olivia had no right to flee from him, to abdicate her vow to stay by his side. Yet in all this time he has learned something of the ebb and flow of other cultures, of how one cannot be pinned by the customs of other lands, and so he quietly accepts the comfortable burden of Ramir's cheek upon his shoulder.]

It seems that our love was never meant to last - alas, that for us no such bliss was ever intended by the Fates! I knew that my destiny awaits me on the shores of Dardanus' land, upon which plain I must spill my lifeblood and my last breath-- And I knew too that Olivia shall wed another man of her dear native land, the daughter of which union lately walks among this crew as a constant portent.

[His words then begin to crack upon the jagged edges of his sorrow.]

Yet even so-- For all of this, I foolishly wished that we might continue to defy Fate in so grand a fashion. I wished for endless days and nights passed in one another's company, and for children of our own to fill her lovely arms. Yet none of this was meant to be mine.

[More so than this sudden soliloquy, what may surprise Ramir is the dampness of tears falling against her hair where she rests upon his shoulder.]

[ Wait a second, Olivia has a daughter? Okay, that's awesome, filing that away for later. But more importantly, she just manages not to burst forth with a hearty round of her usual fate is bullshit line. The tears help. As someone who does a lot of crying herself, she can spot when an approach might just make things worse. She rubs his back, head tipped just enough to look up at him. ]

Fate's what you make it, you know. It doesn't happen unless you let it. And you did, when you stuck to your guy. [ There's no judgement in that, just the fact of it. ] Own that shit, Achilles — no one else did this to you.

[With her hand at once firm and gentle upon his back, his tears fall into the silence until, after a moment to swallow her words, he speaks.]

Fate sets a course for every man, and he may adjust the tiller or turn the sails that they catch this or that wind, but in the end his destination is the same. I am a man gifted two fates, so my mother told me when as a boy I sat upon her knee: I was to either seize glory and extinguish quickly, or live a long life with my potential gone to seed.

I chose to sail to Troy and wield my spear on behalf of the sons of Atreus that my name might live evermore upon the lips of men. Yet to me it seemed as if there could be no other choice, so restless I grew when my mother bade me hide from the war in which I would win my fame. My heart howled for recognition, to be lifted from shame into honor, and so how could I have done anything but listen? For this I traded a peaceful life with the woman I once thought I would make my wife and our son.

So too at present, no other choice could I make, for my love for Patroclus I can never trade. When slipped Menoetius' son from my grasp and through the grim gates of Hades, I would have made any number of deals if it meant he would return to my side. I would have rather that the whole of the Achaean army succumb to the spears and arrows of the horse-taming Trojans, if only my dear companion could be spared, that we two might together storm the walls of sacred Ilios and reap its riches for ourselves.

I love Olivia as I have never before loved a woman...yet Patroclus I love as I never have nor ever shall love another. Thus if I must choose between the two, my choice is inevitable.

[ There it is, the famous Achilles monologue. She should have sensed it was coming. But she listens patiently, because at least this time it's actually something important instead of trivial.

Fate is still bullshit, comes her eventual conclusion, but also he's back to talking choices again. That's good. She can work with that. She nods sympathetically. ]

Hey, you don't need to convince me. You made a choice, it was the right one for you. Just remember it was a choice, alright? Take responsibility for it. I don't want you acting like this was all out of your hands, or something. [ She leans a little, to catch his eye for this part. It's the important part. ] It's just gonna hurt Olivia more, if you start talking like that.

[Sorry, but trying to convince an Ancient Greek hero that Fate has no bearing upon his life is as effective as trying to convince a conspiracy theory enthusiast that Area 51 conceals no evidence of alien contact.

Still her words bear weight as much as her head upon his shoulder or her hand upon his back do, and with the edge of the blanket he wipes at his damp cheeks.]

I do not wish to be the cause of more grief for Olivia, as already I have burdened her too greatly with this heartache we must share. Desire as I might have done to make her happy, and regretful as I am that in the end our love brought only pain...I cannot choose any differently. Thus shall I stand firm by that which my heart has chosen.

[ And finally Ramir nods, satisfied with his answer. She pulls her arm away again, holding out her hand in front of them, palm up, requesting his. And if he obliges, he gets a firm, reassuring squeeze. ]

It sucks, I know. But be as kind to her as you can, alright?

[ Because she's pretty sure Olivia has a lot more fans on this team than Achilles does, honestly. Being a shit to Olivia would be a great way to get himself thrown through a wall. Potentially by Ramir herself. ]

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text, @TARANTO, day after the saloon fire

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merry christmas ig

you got me my favorite thing, weepy beef! awww thanks

yw

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