mythopoeics

[filter; private]

There is something about this that seems perfect and so it's unsettling. The last time I had a perfect life was long before Helen crossed Paris' radar, when Troy was strong and true and when my beloved child was in my womb and Hector and I were assured our happiness.

I cannot look at him without feeling guilty and yet here Astyanax is and he looks at me as though I am some radiant sun.

[filter; public]

Hector, I am going for a run. Keep an eye on our son - why does that not seem right? It is too perfect to be right.

(New York in spring is ideal for a photographer.)

[After browsing Wikipedia for a while, after her conversation she decided to work out the details for a new Nightshade event. A grin crawled across her lips lazily as she twirled a pen in her fingers before she dropped it to type. She only paused in her typing to drink from a can of red bull (shit was amazing!)]

I need a good photographer. Who knows one? Nightshade is going to have a lovely new event soon and I will require the services of a couple photographers. Seriously, great new idea and I will be requiring only the best!

[filter; family (including aeneas and andromache)]
While we seem to be safe and away from mazes, I propose we all do something together. We haven't been together in some time.

When I returned, I learned that one of my photographs had been short-listed for an award. And apparently I was in Australia for the tennis in January. That explains the tan.

I must admit, I enjoy being free of the ridiculous corsets and gowns. I enjoy being able just to run again. Speaking of which. Hector, can we meet tomorrow? Perhaps go for a run and then talk talk?

( i caught your eye as the lantern light guttered out, and the afterdamp swallowed us slowly )

[Filter: Trojans]
This is Hector. I'm in Camlann with Andromache and Aeneas.

Time to wake up.

Time to go home.

Oh, but there is no home.

[Filter: Hermes]

I


I would like to thank you for being good to me.

I am, it seems, rather lost.

[filter; trojans]

Are any of you here? Do you know yourselves? This is Andromache, by the way. My horse bolted and I'm in the middle of nowhere in approximately Camlann.

[filter; private]

So much drama in our little world. Where would should I go? There can be little work for a portrait artist if everyone insists upon killing everyone else. Blood on canvas is just not my medium.

[filter; public]

Calliope, my dearest. I believe I shall visit very soon. Do let me know when is most convenient.

It is so good to be home.  Now, don't get me wrong, Glastheim was lovely, and damn, you people are beautiful.  But nothing quite beats getting to lay in your own bed. 

Until wanderlust strikes again, of course.  Ah, I do so love to vacillate.  For now, I'll enjoy this moment of serenity.

Which makes me curious, dear people of Zurvan: peace and quiet or excitement all the way?

The roads to Glastheim are busy, it seems. I'm fortunate to have reached here ahead of the rush. I have set myself up in rooms near the Palace and if anyone wants to have a portrait painted, I do take appointments for sittings.

Most of you are, of course, aware of my work. I've painted in all five kingdoms and, yes, that eight-foot tall portrait of Zeus is my work, too and I'm already enjoying my return to Glastheim.

[filter; metatron]

Brotherbrotherbrother. Are you coming? Because if you are, you'd best wrap up warm.