Who: Achilles and Cassandra What: Two victims of war can never let go. Reminiscing time and a meeting that never even happened in their first life. When: Thursday afternoon Where: War Memorial at Battery Park Warnings: None
Achilles had slipped on his old military jacket from Vietnam when he took that walk toward a memorial he often frequented, especially when he'd made himself a promise to carry old burdens. He would not soon give up the hope that he would adorn the battlefield to lead men. He was born for it, he was bred for it. Briseis, Patroclus, Hector, his mother, all those old wounds would never heal the closer they kept him. He was thankful for their return, he would never curse that again, but Achilles was built to be his own man. How could he be that when the weight of his past kept dragging at his heels. He was certain at this point that a troubled warrior, even one that once gave himself a chance to be a new man could never be anything else.
The tired cries of men overseas, of soldiers who did their duty for their own cause, that was the constant pull. Achilles was grief incarnate, in name, in body and in soul. With that so deeply embedded, the word soldier would never be wiped away. He ached for it with every breath, kept himself at a distance from those that he loved the most. It seemed when he was on his own without them he was able to conceal these deep terrors from his past. Still that prideful man, but able to carry on a life for the last decade that put him at the attention of others, and gave him a chance for freedom.
The idea was so tainted now as he entered Battery Park coming face to face with the Eagle statue that lead him to a wall of names. His hand brushed lightly over engraved stone, becoming one with that wall. It sent a chill down his spine as he closed his eyes, too enveloped with his own thoughts to recognize that familiar pang of another just like himself. She too knew his grief, but had never once seen him face to face. Only heard his stories and felt his anger by the death he brought her and her family.
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[info]speakingtruth 2011-11-10 06:46 am UTC (link) Track This When Cassandra pressed her cheeks to the names carved into the stone, she almost felt she could hear the whispers of the soldiers long dead. She was a child of war, a daughter and sister of warriors, a girl who had lived her whole life on the edges of battle and watching the losses.
And there was Achilles, the one who had taken Hector from her. She watched him and then approached slowly. "Hello, wolf," Cassandra said, curious about him.
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[info]chink_in_armor 2011-11-10 07:49 am UTC (link) Track This Achilles held no spite for the daughters of war. Briseis had been a daughter, wife and sister to Trojan men, and he had never laid a angry hand against her. His hate then had spat at men that played games with another man's treasures. His hate had spurned even deeper at himself, even Paris couldn't touch the anger that resonated inside for the deeds he'd allowed. Atonement was more than a word for the steadfast Achilles, it was as much a part of him as the wars that cried for his speed, his agility, his arrogance.
He had taken everything from the priestess, just as she had predicted, but he would hold no ill-will toward her. At her sharp tongue, his jaw tensed, giving her a much softer look with his eyes. He had never seen her before, heard only of her through Homer and tales that spanned beyond him, but never once had he seen her. "Priestess of Troy," he acknowledged.
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[info]speakingtruth 2011-11-10 08:12 am UTC (link) Track This "Not that any longer," Cassandra said, sliding her hands across the cool marble near to her, closing her eyes at the sensation. "No priestess for no gods. No Troy for Trojans."
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[info]chink_in_armor 2011-11-11 11:05 pm UTC (link) Track This He watched her with a string decorum. "Not a soldier anymore," he admitted of himself with a hand to his chest, "but a war always." It was not Troy or ancient times, but the war would forever rage. Times had changed little in that aspect. They would always be children of the battlefield.
Achilles took her hand softly from the wall in a soft gesture, a contrast to the man he could be. He would always hold a compassion, especially to women who were victims.
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[info]speakingtruth 2011-11-19 06:50 am UTC (link) Track This Cassandra watched him taking her hand, having no fear of this man. Nothing whispered to her of the death that would come from this meeting, so she believed that nothing would. Her visions came rarely these days, but she trusted in them.
"Rage," Cassandra told him, pressing one of her fingers against his forehead. "Brother-slayer always filled with anger, no silence to keep."
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[info]chink_in_armor 2011-11-19 07:10 am UTC (link) Track This She did not tremble or step back. She was strong, a shame her time had ended at the hands of a scorned wife to an unforgiveable man. He spoke softly, finding her words more a comfort than an insult.
"Silence is given to those that desire it." A deeper part of Achilles would never allow himself to be a mediocre man. If he'd never known war, known the loss of brothers,lovers and destruction there would have been a chance. "As long as men suffer, as long as they look to a soldier to understand their anguish, that rage will never die." Achilles was forever their leader even in this form. Their hope, belief, betrayal and hate had formed him as he was now, there Kay never be a new starting point, not as long as he had the past so close at his heels.
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[info]speakingtruth 2011-11-19 07:28 am UTC (link) Track This "Silence to those who never deserved it," Cassandra drew away from him and ran her fingers over those carved names. "Tens and tens and tens, all of them whisper without voices." Cassandra cast a glance over her shoulder at him. "Men make war for wives and sisters and mothers to suffer."
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[info]chink_in_armor 2011-11-20 12:38 am UTC (link) Track This She was insulting him, there was still some spite in her tongue, a bitterness towards him.
"We take what is taken from us, we fight for what each believe to be right. In the end, neither side holds the torch, we all make ourselves suffer."
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[info]speakingtruth 2011-11-20 09:41 am UTC (link) Track This Cassandra tilted her head as though listening to someone else and then after a moment she looked at him again, her eyes suddenly sharper than they had been before, all vague distance leaving her.
When she spoke, she sounded more present than before. "Easy for a warrior to say," she told him. "You went willingly into that mess. Some of us didn't have that luxury." She looked across the people she could see around the memorial. "How many of them have lost family? These wars never stop, they just do it under the name of a different god now."
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[info]chink_in_armor 2011-11-20 11:51 am UTC (link) Track This "Is it really ever a man's choice when destiny decided his fate and he set to make his own?" He sighed with a weight sitting heavy inside.
"I often think what would have been if is stayed behind, but I feel I would have never been satisfied either way. Not with such a strong heart." He stopped. "What happened to you, if I been there, wouldn't have happened." He meant it sincerely though he had also taken her sister, Polyxena from her as peace for his soul and a trade between both sides for what was lost. What Agamemnon took from Cassandra however, never would have passed with Achilles.
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[info]speakingtruth 2011-11-20 03:29 pm UTC (link) Track This "Don't speak to a prophetess about fate," Cassandra snapped, the first glimmer of anger in her voice. Fate! No one knew about the turns of fate better than she did, and no one would hear of it even now. Even now her own family doubted her words. Apollo's curse still held tight onto her voice.
"Would you have been my hero, wolf?" she asked him with curiosity, her anger having faded into sadness already. "When you demanded the death of my sister yourself?" Poor Polyxena, good and brave and wise. She'd been stronger than Cassandra had ever been. She'd chosen death over being a slave. (But Cassandra's path had already been set, and although she foretold her sister's murder, by the time it happened Cassandra was long dead.)
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[info]chink_in_armor 2011-11-21 11:57 pm UTC (link) Track This Achilles' eyes narrowed, jaw clenched tightly. "I would have let you go." Her sister's face traced his memory. "Your sister was a brave girl. I was fond of her," the times he had come across her before the end of war, "but my soul needed to be appeased. She went willingly." Out of admiration, love, or hate, Polyxena had gone to spill her blood on his grave. "My son however, was not as compassionate as I," Neoptolemus had been the most bloodthirsty and ruthless side of Achilles, he would not deny that.