Adrianus "Achilles" Leventis (chink_in_armor) wrote in forgotten_gods, @ 2010-09-15 00:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | achilles, thetis |
Still disconnected and unprotected, still I'm haunted but unwanted
Who: Thetis silver_footed and Achilles chink_in_armor
What: Son needs to speak to his mother.
Where: Detroit set, Achilles makes a phonecall
When: Tuesday morning.
Rating/Warnings: none
The set on the Detroit lot hadn’t been broken down completely yet, there still a few pieces of his elaborate interior for most of the film still in view. Achilles walked in, looking around at the various pieces, some actual artifacts to add to the splendor of the set, and it made him angry. That pride he’d held before was stunted, his thoughts breaking back and forth with what his mother had said to him.
Achilles did not take well to being compared, put up as some sort of competition--and though his mother said those words fondly, to Achilles it felt like failure. She spoke so calmly, made him stop in his actions, and while he’d not returned any response to her that night, his anger only festered. She could pick out his weaknesses just as easily as he given them to Polyxena in those rugged years of war. This time, it was his mother that struck him down with her own arrow, one of love, contempt, and concern. The one woman that could make him listen to anything.
His hand gripped around one of the carved wooden chairs, knuckles white against the skin. Within seconds the delicately crafted piece of furniture was hauled across the room in one forceful swing, splintering pieces of wood once it hit the wall. The chair was not his only victim as he found his anger released on other objects, destroying the beautiful set in a fit of rage.
How could he enjoy this victorious moment when what Thetis had said was true? He was the bane of his own happiness, and just when he put one foot forward, something deep within him gripped him and forced the arrogance out of him. He wasn’t even sure how to be at peace when it slipped away from him the moment he enjoyed it. It seemed easier almost in the days before, when he knew the outcome, and dying was the biggest victory. It meant he could let go of all those forces that had plagued him before. Now it was different, and he was learning a little too slowly on how to control being the warrior with no war to fight. He knew what he needed to do, but he was his own enemy, and even the best therapist couldn’t cure that.
His hands now sat empty against his knees as he sat on the concrete floor, letting his back rest against the wall. He sat quietly, voice hoarse from the loud outcry he’d thrown along with his tantrum. One hand curled into a fist before fishing out the phone from his back pocket.
He waited for his mother’s voice to reach his ears, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it together.