Patrick Clark | Patroclus (borrowed_armor) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-07-07 17:13:00 |
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Current mood: | pensive |
Entry tags: | helen, patroclus |
The Simple Life
Who: Patroclus borrowed_armor can be open to Helen!
What: Blah, life is confusing, blah!
Where: Hotel in Arizona
When: Tuesday, July 6th, evening
Warnings: TBD! though none so far
Life had once been so very simple.
The acrid air of Arizona brought up memories long forgotten. Memories of war. And that, in turn, caused Patroclus to think far too much about life as he sat alone in Helen's hotel room, cross-legged on her bed.
In the decades he had spent by himself, Patroclus had drifted through life without incident. He was a warrior without a war, and perhaps that made him directionless, but he had found direction in other places. He had worked as a labourer and a builder before becoming a bartender. Working with his body was what he preferred. And in those days, his tiny apartment with his one water glass and his lack of kitchen utensils and been enough. He had no need for complications.
As of yesterday, he owned a lemon zester. Among other things. And that damn zester was like a symbol for the complication of his once so simple life. He had no idea what to do with a lemon zester, or even why it existed in the first place. And that was, to some extent, how he felt about his sudden relationship with Helen of Sparta.
Women had not been the first thing on Patroclus' mind during the war. He had had his concubines, but as Achilles' lieutenant, he had mostly kept his head in the game. Anything that was leftover, he used to playing the peacemaker between Achilles and...everyone ever, as well as being a friend to Briseis. His arrival in America was much the same. It didn't even involve concubines and that was okay with Patroclus.
He had, however, once been the suitor to one Helen of Sparta. And though he hadn't won her hand, he had never forgotten her. How could he when the war he gave his life to was, in essence, all about her. Seeing her again had added to his infatuation. And now they were together, for want of a better word. And, for Patroclus, it was about more than rubbing it in Paris' face. He didn't even want Paris to know.
Why would a woman like Helen even look twice at him; a failed suitor? And why did she care how he felt about Briseis when Patroclus wasn't even her true partner? Suddenly this was all stuff he had to consider. Suddenly he felt pulled in several directions at once, and he didn't know which direction was going to win.
Patroclus drank two of the tiny bottles of hotel booze, and he waited for Helen to return from her photo shoot. At least when she was there, he could ignore his thoughts and enjoy his time with her. Which he did. When she was with him, he forgot about jealousy and lemon zesters and far too many plates for one person to have in their kitchen cupboard. All that existed in the world was them for those brief moments of time.