( video ) un: achilles

[heelies]

[There appears the grave countenance of Achilles, son of Peleus, his princely features marred by grief. His eyes are rimmed red and below them sink dark purple hollows. His beard is untrimmed and his golden curls, once long and flowing, hang choppy about his ears, hacked off by his own hand. Yet still he stands with shoulders squared and chin held high, as befits one who speaks before the assembly, and still his voice rolls forth like the iron-grey clouds that fill the sky before a storm falls.]

I come bearing unhappy news amidst a sea of unhappy news - but for me, no news could be more unbearable than this. An honorable man lies dead, overpowered in all his power, victim to one of the flesh-hungry who strike fear in the breast of this city. This was Menoetius' son Patroclus, my dear brother in arms...my partner in life. He was not long among this crew, and thus if you have no other cause for lament, then lament that you are robbed the opportunity to know him for a friend.

Yet now you might meet him through my words, I who have known him for the better part of my life and love him as I love my own life. Among the Achaeans there never was a kinder man: he cared more for the man beside him than for himself, and what he had he shared generously with friend and stranger alike. Almighty Zeus, bright-eyed Athena, and Apollo the lord of light always received supplication and libation enough from his hands. With so worthy a man gone down to the House of Hades, the country of the living is left far poorer.

In this nation flung so far from my fatherland, strange enough that the shores of windy Ilios seem almost friendly, I have not the riches I once possessed. I cannot give so grand a funeral as I would wish, as great-hearted Patroclus deserves, like that which I gave on the headland over the Hellespont. There a thousand men harnessed in bronze bore the son of Menoetius to his pyre, each one's heart filled with a dirge, while my deathless mother and all of the daughters of Nereus rose from the sea wailing and beating their breasts - but who in this land shall mourn him so? The honors I heap upon him here shall be only a pale shadow of all that he is worth, and for this my grief grows twofold.

If you have any respect for the dead and for the laws decreed by the gods, then hear my plea. A pyre must be built that my dear friend may pass proper into the House of Hades. At present he wanders lost by death's gates, the Acheron's distant shore far out of reach. How can I rest while he who is dearest to me suffers unwearying? Thus, his pyre must be built today. There is more than space enough in Oakwood Park, which lies to the west. I need strong men to stack the timbers, whatever wood can be found, and others to assist in the slaughter of the oxen, that the rich blood may make sacred the flame. None need worry about drawing the curious eyes of the Woodhurstians, for Sieglinde the Green Witch shall shield the area from sight by her clever magic.

All who come to honor Menoetius' gallant son are welcome to feast afterward. To fill my stomach when my heart is so empty is hateful to me, but what food and wine I have I shall freely share with any who proves a friend to my dear companion even in death.

[CLIFFS NOTES VERSION: His not-at-all-platonic life partner is dead (again), so anyone who lends a hand in performing Ancient Greek funeral practices shall be fed a hearty dinner of oxen kebabs. I will post a log for the funeral this weekend, but that will mostly provide narrative for the various rituals and handle the aftermath. You are more than welcome to assume your character's involvement there or in the feast that follows. If you have any questions or would like to plot, please PM this journal or find me on Discord at aristosachaion#4902!

EDIT 3/15: I have come down with a fever and am slightly dying, but nevertheless I will do my best to persist in answering these tags. Sorry for the delay!]

Comments

[keeper]

He must have been a great man, as you say. Will you tell me more of him? In your own time...

[ For some, the memories help alleviate the grief, and for others only the opposite. ]

[heelies]

[It is both the bitterest comfort and the sweetest trial to speak now of his friend, his lover, and yet he cannot help but answer.]

By birthright and by deed I am the greater man, so the Achaeans will say, yet in my heart's estimation there is no greater man than this, my Patroclus.

[Such words he would never have been able to say in his homeland, or any of the shores trodden by Achaean feet, yet here he might speak more freely.]

He has stayed loyal by my side since first he entered my father's house some two decades past, that day when Menoetius came seeking asylum for his son. Peleus did appoint him my therapon, and he has since exceeded all duties thrust upon him.

[keeper]

[ She knows Achilles to be a prideful man, which is by no means a failing of character—he is strong and of noble blood, from another land and another tradition. To hear him speak of Patroclus so is somewhat surprising, and saddening. ]

You two were very close.

[ Twenty-something years of companionship... A lifetime for her (if not more), though even if just a little, she too understands the pain of separation and reunion. (Would it had been better had Patroclus not returned at all?)

She asks before she thinks better of it. ] You... do not have any regrets?

[ To be with him again. ]

[heelies]

Although I am left with this agony that lingers like smoke after a fire has been doused, so thick it chokes the air, I cannot regret any time I have spent with my dear friend, whom I love beyond all my comrades. I did not expect that I would ever again see him, not until I too am overcome by the end of mortality and sent to that far shore. To behold him in the country of the living then, to clasp him once more in my arms - this I still count a great blessing, however swiftly it was stolen away. Still it was more than that which I had been granted already.

[He pauses then before the pensive tides of his voice creep in once more.]

Nor can I regret that at last in this land we were allowed to live more plainly than what we had known among our own countrymen.

[keeper]

I... understand. The time you had together was truly something precious. I am glad that you had that much, at least, and sorrier still that it should be taken away from you so soon.

[ There's momentary silence on her end, as she does her best to read the tone of his words. ]

Were you not permitted such relations, where you come from...?

[heelies]

Such matters between men are best kept private. The love one holds for his friend, his brother in arms, he speaks of freely and it is right to do so: such love is as honorable as the love between father and son. But to hold him as his lover too...none will speak of it in open air. So it is across the nations of Achaea.

[And still it seems to him a peculiarity to share with others the side of his and Patroclus' relationship that until lately had always been tucked away where just the two of them could see.]

[keeper]

...I see.

[ It does not seem... respectful, to continue and chase that topic (though Achilles has been most gracious and honest with his answers), and with a heavy heart she turns her focus once more to the funeral for one last question. ]

Is there anything else I might bring?

[heelies]

You need only bring your arts, fair Aqua. At midday we shall gather to build the pyre, and before the sun sinks below the rooftops we must set it ablaze. For your aid in this most sacred of matters I give my thanks.

[keeper]

There is no need for thanks.

...I shall see you at midday then, Achilles.