( 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]

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.]

[heelies]

We shall gather to build the pyre at midday, and ere the sun sinks below the rooftops I shall slaughter the oxen, spilling the rich blood round the bier where lies Menoetius' son. Then shall the fire be lit to burn bright in the darkening dusk.

[catphishing]

Right. I'll be there.

[It will be awkward, but he can't blame Achilles for wanting a good presence at his boyfriend's funeral.]

Thanks for inviting me.