Côme - Komos - Comus (comus_hither) wrote in labyrinthine_, @ 2012-02-04 23:36:00 |
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Entry tags: | komos, prometheus |
Open
There weren't many things that could stop Komos from drinking. If you asked him, he would even probably say that nothing could. Maybe in a few hours' time, once alcohol (and probably other substances) had sunk their claws deep inside him (oh, and how he loved it), it would have been true. Maybe they would have provided enough of a buffer for it not to get to him. Or maybe it would have been worse, amplified by him being exactly what he was supposed to be.
But it was the early evening, and he was far from drunk. The building creaked, and the emotion that came with it physically slammed into him. The shot glass slipped out of his hand and spilled on the floor, prevented from shattering by the carpeting of the lounge, as Komos doubled over by the bar. Grief was not something he knew, outside of such moments of communion he would have preferred to avoid. Grief was not something he knew how to deal with. And grief was something to have him doubled over, from the strange pain of it.
The overwhelming emotion thankfully receded as quickly as it had come over him, and over the building, and Komos managed to straighten up, a faint confused frown on his brow. His father had left, he could tell, but. Where to, what for? What could have caused... that?
Ignoring the startled, confused looks of the mortals around him, he abandoned his erstwhile companions and strode out of the lounge, then found himself jogging through the corridors on his way to Dionysus's office. If there was a clue as to what had happened, it would be there.
When he burst through the double doors, he stopped dead in his tracks, unprepared to find somebody there before him.