Dr. Achren Psiakis, PhD. (adimonia) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2009-04-26 23:43:00 |
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Entry tags: | acheron |
Who: Akhe, memories of others. [Acheron, closed narrative.]
Where/when: Akhe's condo, early morning before dawn.
What/Warnings: Memories, a drowning.
The length of her frame jerked in a spasm of agony none her own. She awoke slowly, yet a trace of surprise laced her impossibly dark eyes. Looking down, Akhe realized her hands were a tremor of... of what? Fear? Hope? A startling, frightening combination of the two human emotions for which she had no desire to feel? No, she realized slowly, drawing her cashmere throw blanket up around her shoulders as she sat up and stood from her bed. Cold. She felt a frigid chill within her that was only growing, and made cooler still by the lingering remnant of a dream's agony gripping her wintry heart. Orphne. She had dreamed of the one being with whom she had fleetingly shared everything. The one dark, delightful creature of the Underworld that Acheron had truly had a heart for, the woman, the nymph, with whom the River Acheron itself had created a son. And she was gone. Orphne was gone. Acheron had made it so in a crashing, terrifying and quick moment.
She had dreamed of that moment. The wide, impossibly dark and blue imploring eyes, begging - of hands reaching for Acheron's ruthlessly strong fingers, trying to pry them from a delicate scalp as she shoved the Underworld nymph further and deeper into the cold lake, a lake of anguish, her anguish. Of the painful, inhuman screech of an owl who she once called Son. And of the darkness that followed, endless, eternal.
Trembling fingers sought a glass once she had made it to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of merlot, before walking slowly, one hand clutching the blanket around her tall and svelte frame, to her living room. Akhe slid down into the comfort of the dark blue couch, eyes fixed and glassy on the windows, watching the sky lighten to a shades of hope as dawn approached. She sipped her wine, eyes wide, unblinking, emotionless, and empty save the pained undercurrent rippling through every cell of her being.
[[This character-building implies the existence of the Underworld nymph, Orphne, in this world, at some point. At this point, I would prefer Orphne remain an NPC for me to write/develop/explore Acheron's past, taking some liberties with the actual myth, of course. If in the future someone would like to pick up Orphne, despite her being dead, we can discuss it then. :] Same goes for Acheron's screech-owl son, Ascalaphus.