InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "It's a can of peaches, Sir."

cadmeia_prince (cadmeia_prince) wrote in nevermore_logs,
@ 2016-06-22 15:03:00

Current mood:	cold
Current music:	"Modest Mountains" by Field Divisions
Entry tags:	oenone, paris

Who: Paris [Narrative - Open to Oenone]
What: Paris emerges from the land of the dead
Where: His apartment he'd had with Helen
When: Wednesday, June 22nd
Warnings: Confusion

Paris had found himself in Hades' realm for what could have been decades. He'd been out of breath the whole time, feeling hands clamped around his neck, with a pretty pattern of fingerprints squeezing every bit of air he tried to catch. It was constant, it had been the last thing he remembered as Achilles clenched the life from him. Not Helen or why he'd been there with her, the time together, just Achilles.

Coming to felt even worse in a body that had been laying in wait for it's soul to reappear. He was broken, bloodied and bruised. He would heal, but it was the stench that made him gag as he blinked looking up at the ceiling and clawing at someone that wasn't there. He still thought Achilles was there trying to kill him. He was gasping for air and trying to breathe again.

The room was dark. He had no idea Oenone was there, or why she'd even feel the need to stay after finding him dead on his living room floor.

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oinos
2016-06-23 07:52 pm UTC (link)

Oenone watched him silently, her face stony and devoid of emotion. Where Paris was concerned, she was still very confused. She had loved him with every fiber of her being, but then he betrayed her. He betrayed their marriage. And for what? The promise of another man's wife. She had told Dionysus she was through with Paris, but here she was making sure he got oriented to the living world.

She sighed, rolling her eyes again before straightening up and then stepping over to him. She offered her hands as more of means of support and balance than anything. "I haven't got all day," she said gruffly.

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cadmeia_prince
2016-06-23 10:26 pm UTC (link)

Paris had never had the chance to be a man because he'd been pampered his entire life. He'd been spoon fed by his parents, coddled by gods and goddesses to succeed, and in the end had been the scapegoat. He knew how to just be a weasel, and took no responsibility for his actions.

Oenone's hand became visible and he took it, his eyes that of a scared rabbit that had just had it's tail bit off by a wolf. She might not have an ounce of sympathy for him, but he would milk what little he could find. She offered her attention and that was enough for him as he got onto his wobbly feet.

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