( 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

[catphishing]

You could see all of that if you wanted to. There's more to life than one guy even if he was that important to you.

[heelies]

[His features, already raw with his sorrow, sharpen suddenly.]

Who are you to deny that which the Fates have decreed? The will of Zeus is absolute. My mother, silver-footed Thetis, told me of my two-fold fate when as a boy I sat upon her knee: I was to seize glory and burn my life away fast, or else I was to fade away in old age with my potential gone to waste. I chose glory and thus forfeited my life.

Moreover, who are you to speak of the love I bear for Menoetius' son? You have not known me nearly so long, Oliver, yet you would presume to know my heart?

[catphishing]

[Well, that wasn't the reaction he was hoping for. He backtracks hastily, wanting to find a better way to put his point across.]

I don't know your heart. I didn't mean it like that. I just...

[How does he say this right?]

Other people can't tell you how your life's going to work out. It's not as simple as there being two choices. You can choose to take more risks, but you don't know that will end badly. You could live a dangerous life and still die when you're eighty, or you could try and avoid doing anything there's a risk to and still get caught up in a freak accident.

So you shouldn't give up yet. It's too soon to make assumptions that's what's going to happen.

[heelies]

[His words now come forth hard and grey like flint. Perhaps Oliver means only to offer some dim hope in the darkness of his grief, but he listens not to what Achilles says, and for this his patience thins. He has only just now begun to pull himself back together after having been dashed to pieces, and he is not yet so sturdy.]

My mother is not of mortal flesh and blood - she stands among the deathless gods, a daughter of Nereus, born of the sea's loins. It is the height of audacity for man to think he knows more than the gods. If you mean to comfort me with your words, then there is no need: I have accepted my lot. No more shall I fear the end of mortality. I have no desire to live a long life if my dear Patroclus cannot be by my side, for such a life as this bears no fruit.

[catphishing]

[Wait, so his mom's a goddess? Is that what he's trying to claim here? Or maybe she's dead too. Achilles isn't always that easy to understand, he's starting to realize.

Either way, he's not sure how to approach this appropriately. It takes him time to form the words for a hesitant response.]

I just don't think you should give up on yourself so easily.

[heelies]

What is there to concede when there is no battle to be fought?

[catphishing]

[He stays quiet for a time. It would almost be easy to have forgotten he was still there by the time he breaks his silence, voice still barely audible.]

...I don't know.

[heelies]

[Oliver's disquiet reverberates through the silence, so that even Achilles, who for long days has not seen beyond his own darkness, can sense his concern.]

I have reason to live yet. How can I be laid to rest while still my heart is so restless? I know nothing of my dear friend's final minutes; I was left with only the marks of his mutilation, which in their silence spoke little. Moreover, while Menoetius' son lies dead, the madman who has cast this plague of madness over the city, stirring in men hunger for his fellow's flesh, lives still. My heart howls for justice, and my blade thirsts for his blood.

[catphishing]

That's... good?

[It doesn't sound good, but he thinks Achilles is trying to make him feel better. He shouldn't be in the first place, so it seems better to just agree with him. He doesn't want to fight with him now, even if he is upset over certain matters. Those can be dealt with later. When he isn't grieving.]

I'm sure we'll find out what caused this. There are a lot of really smart people here.

[heelies]

[Now comes his turn to settle into silence, and when he speaks his voice has lost his harder edges, eroded by his sorrows.]

Did any bear witness to his plight? Why did he not call for my help? Could he speak no words? Such are the questions I ask to no avail.

[catphishing]

He died alone?

[He sounds strangled at that. Poor Patroclus. He didn't know him, but nobody deserves that. Someone should be there besides the people who killed him.]

[heelies]

Kung's son Jin and Asher found him lying in the road, left to the dogs and carrion birds.

[And no more than this can he say, but still he can so clearly see the raw mess made of his companion's flesh, the flayed skin and gristle-slick bone.]

[catphishing]

Oh my god...

[Poor Asher. It's hard to imagine him dealing well with a body.]

Maybe it was fast. Maybe it was over before it even hurt him.

this is going well

[heelies]

[Yet how could it have gone so swiftly? He tries to think not on the agony of flesh torn by teeth, ground like wheat beneath the grinding stone, a slow and excruciating labor; nor on the dying groans scraping his companion's throat, choking out the incipient cries for mercy. Tears seize him then and strangle any response he might give. There rises a shudder from him before silence thickens; a moment passes before he can grasp words.]

You must pardon me - I am overcome by my grief once more.

I'm sorry....

[catphishing]

[Ah. That clearly didn't help him. Maybe he even made things worse. These are condolences he's heard used before, but whether he's doing it wrong or he's just so different from everyone else he's known it doesn't comfort him he's not sure.]

I'm sorry. I don't really know what to say that will help you.

shhhhhh

[heelies]

There are not words enough to soothe the grief that ails me. Therefore do not tire yourself in trying to find that which cannot be found. If you wish to share in the burden of mourning, come then to see worthy Patroclus borne unto his pyre.

[No, Oliver, this is not a date.]

[catphishing]

I didn't know him. I don't feel like it would be right for me to be there.

[heelies]

[It is not the answer he had expected. In his thinking, Patroclus' worthiness as a warrior is cause enough for any to mourn.]

Few among this crew were blessed to know him, short as his time was among these ranks - and of those who did know him, none knew him half so well as did our comrades from our dear native land and the allied nations of the Achaeans. Then am I to give a funeral that none attend? A funeral in which the deceased is honored not?

[catphishing]

I didn't mean it like that.

[Why is everything he says wrong here? Is it just him who thinks it feels disrespectful for him to be attending Patroclus' funeral?]

Of course I don't want no one to be there. But wouldn't you find that weird?

[heelies]

What mean you by this?

[And his bemusement is genuine - he is no great craftsman of deceit like Laertes' son Odysseus.]

[catphishing]

Nothing.

[He believes Achilles doesn't know what he means, but he'd but explaining it to him now.]

I'm sorry. If you want me there then I'll go. I just don't want this to be awkward for you.

[heelies]

This day is not for me, but for Menoetius' worthy son - you shall not be my guest but his, although he rises not to welcome you. I wish only that my dear companion is escorted to the House of Hades with all due honors.

[catphishing]

[He takes a breath. This feels so disrespectful to him, but Achilles clearly thinks differently, and the idea of someone's funeral being empty... it's a painful thought.]

If you're sure that's what he would have wanted. I don't want to be disrespectful.

[heelies]

[And all the while he knows nothing of the root of Oliver's misgivings, nor of the grave misunderstanding he himself had sowed by his behavior in those days they had met at the gymnasium. That would need to be untangled another time.]

Then come to pay your respects. You need not stay long - soon after I shall send the present company to my house for the feasting that is so hateful to me, while I stay and mourn with those whose grief is deepest.

[catphishing]

Yeah. Of course. The last thing I want to do is intrude on your grief.

[This feels too much like doing that already.]