Helen of Troy...Sparta...Troy... (thefacethat) wrote in nevermore_past, @ 2016-02-09 07:15:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | helen of troy |
Who: Helen (open to Paris)
When: October, 2014
Where: Her apartment, then elsewhere
What: Love spells regenerate [Narrative]
It had been a beautiful, clear night. Helen and Patroclus had gone out, and everything had seemed fine. For Helen to have found actual love, without the 'help' of others, had been quite an accomplishment. So many years she had fed off the adoration of others, having become the portrait she had been painted as. But with Patroclus she had been happy. Really, truly happy. He made her laugh, and they even though they had been through some very hard times they had stuck together. It was literally the first relationship she could say was successful. The only one she didn't run away from.
But that night was different. She didn't realize it just yet.
Helen had gone to bed, curled up next to Patroclus, looking forward to the next day.
In the night, Helen was woken by something tugging at her. Not literally, but something inside of her said to wake up. To get out of there and go far away. It was like she was in a trance and she wasn't aware of what was happening. She appeared to be sleepwalking.
Helen took nothing with her. She left no note. There was no sign of a struggle. She just... left.
----------------------------------------
When Helen finally came out of this trance, she found herself lying on a park bench. Her head pounded. Had she been drinking? Where was she?
She looked around, unsure of where she was or what time it was. She sat up, rubbing her head tenderly.
"What's going on?"
No one answered. They just glanced at the woman who had clearly slept on a park bench.
Helen was very confused. She heard the sounds of birds chirping. Children playing and laughing. And somewhere, in the very back of her head, she felt something familiar. Something she couldn't pinpoint with this damned headache.
She couldn't think straight.
She sat there, rubbing her head and trying to figure out what had happened. She remembered going to bed. With Patroclus. She could still smell his cologne on her. Maybe they had had a fight and she had gotten drunk to numb the pain? No, she didn't do that. Not with him.
It didn't make any sense.
When she felt up to it, she stood up slowly. She realized she was wearing her pajamas.
"What?"
That's weird....
Helen couldn't figure out what was happening, or why, and started to panic. What the hell is going on?!
Eventually she saw the post office, indicating she was somewhere in... California? WHAT THE HELL?
While trying to find a payphone she felt that familiar feeling again. This time it scared her, because she had a feeling she knew what... rather who it was.
She had to be sure. She had to find out if it was still there. If it still affected her.
Sure enough, Helen found the source of the energy. Paris. Of course she had been right. She should have left the moment she felt it. It shouldn't have even been tempting to find out if the spell still worked. But even though Helen protested, even as she began to cry because she could feel it coming back, it was too late. Helen had always hoped that spell was gone for good. That with time it had worn off.
But she was wrong.
Just as she had fallen 'in love' with Paris before, she would once again be doomed to love a man whom she detested.
There would be no happy ending for Helen of Troy.