Hedylogos: God of Sweet-Talk and Flattery (winged_flattery) wrote in deities_dot_com, @ 2014-09-27 21:45:00 |
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Entry tags: | ~hedylogos, ~sif |
Love is Bittersweet [tag: Sif]
When not surrounded by those who would raise a stink about it, Hedylogos was not one who ever fought the fact that he was a sensitive man with great breadth of strong emotions that sometimes needed to be expressed with tears. He cried. There was nothing wrong with crying. He was not a violent god and he never would be. He was an erote, a god of love and sensitivity. Of sweet talk and flattery and when something gripped his heart... he cried.
Something had gripped his heart. More than that, something had gripped his mind and then pulled at the heartstrings that had already been twisting and turning and aware they were doing things they shouldn't.
Bragi had given him a great deal of things to think about, whether he had truly intended to do so or not. They'd had a good conversation and it was always great to reconnect with his Norse friend, but... Hedylogos left with a heavy heart because he had to wonder if there were some things about what had been said that Bragi had been correct about.
Especially that part about whether or not he was sabotaging his own happiness. At first it had just sounded ridiculous. Who would ever do such a thing? Ever?
But as he laid in bed night after night, bare skin touched by the moonlight, it crossed his mind that perhaps Bragi was correct. After all, he could have let his early affections for Hera fade. He had told himself from the beginning that it wasn't something she could return, especially since she was married and he liked to live under the impression that Zeus loved her. For as much as Hedylogos adored the romantic ideal of having no choice but to love her, he could have turned his head away. He could have forced it.
Couldn't he? But no. He penned hymns. He let himself pine for her, even though he easily took lovers for ages upon ages, some he kept short term, some a little longer. None he ever invested in as fully as the lover he was never going to have. Or so he thought.
Then what of Collette? The one he had and loved so dearly and he knew he was never going to keep? Hedylogos knew that was not going to last for his lifetime and his heart broke so hard when she faded from his life. She had been his diversion from a path he could never actually walk down.
But now he was walking it... sort of. Not totally. And he was going to die. Even if it was only that one time. If Zeus ever found out... he was going to die, and he didn't want it to only be that one time, but it should be. It should not ever happen again if he wanted to be responsible.
He didn't want to be responsible.
Hedylogos needed to talk to someone who would understand. Someone who could perhaps sympathize enough to at least be honest with him, and discreet, because she would understand the danger because of her own very temperamental, very dangerous -though also very estranged, husband.
His eyes were already puffy from tears when he arrived at her door, and even then, he could not stand to not bring some gift for her: a bottle of the wine -the same vintage, she had expressed an enjoyment of last time she'd been to the château. It was the least he could do given his unexpected appearance without calling ahead and what shape he was in.