Who: Electricity, Caerus What: A bedtime story Where: Belle Fourche, South Dakota When: Thursday night Warnings: None
It wasn’t the light.
It wasn’t a light in the dark that helped Caerus sleep, it was Electricity herself - the way she hummed against him in the way that only she and everything that was hers could. It was a constant vibration, one that told him he was not alone, and more importantly, that she was there.
A few months ago he would have laughed if anyone had said he’d ever need someone to be there while he slept, but after being kept by Nyx and subjected to the work of both Hypnos and Morpheus, sleep was not the innocent relief it once was. It had been bad, at first, the way he’d clung to wakefulness, fighting off sleep and when that was impossible, fighting off going deep enough to dream. He’d finally been able to sleep again when he was near his father, and now, away from Zeus, it was Frankie who allowed him to let go.
There had been a time when he didn’t have to sleep, when he could have gone on and on without pausing for rest or even breath. That time, however, was long ago - he was old. Older than the streets and cities around him, older than even some of the other gods. Very young amongst his own - very old amongst the new. He was beginning to feel the latter. He needed to sleep. The thought didn’t bother him - he knew what he was, and how things were changing. He had no regrets. He had always lived in the moment, doing what he pleased and taking what he wanted, being with who he wanted and sometimes, giving them all they could ask for. Almost all those he loved best would live on long after he faded away - they were bigger than him, their names still remembered and spoken and known. Like his father. Caerus’ first memory was of his father’s face, and very much like the young boy that he was compared to the others in his pantheon, Caerus firmly believed that his father would always be there.
He had played at his father’s feet as Zeus sat on his throne, and it was his throne that Caerus thought of now with his face pressed against Frankie’s arm and his eyes shut tight to everything but her hum on his skin. The throne and the room around it, the gods and goddesses who came in and out. The ones he ignored and the ones he watched with a careful respect. He’d learned very early who it was wise to hide from, and his hiding place was……
“Underneath the throne.” He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, and his voice was already a little sleepy. As though it would clarify everything, he added: “That was where I hid when I didn’t want to be seen.”