papadopoulos | open: all harmony of instrument or verse, all prophecy, all medicine, is mine. 1

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open: all harmony of instrument or verse, all prophecy, all medicine, is mine. 1

Poetry is great.
You don't have to take my word,
try it for yourself!
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Somewhat unexpectedly, Apollo is indoors. It’s been some time since he’s had the time or energy to dive into poetry and books: though Tyson and his harpy² girlfriend did run a bookshop at Camp Jupiter; Apollo had had no time to look in on things in the midst of battle and trying not to turn into a zombie. He is taking some time today to appreciate the quiet of the library; immersed in any and every kind of poetry he can get his hands on. There are books of sonnets piled about him, Dante’s Inferno, some of Byron’s works, and a collection of Oscar Wilde’s poems. He has even managed to find some examples of Chinese poetry, and is sprawled out across a couch dressed for the beach, but looking as content as a cat who’s gotten into cream and like he's quite happy to stay inside all day.

It feels like it’s been an age since he’s properly gotten to dive into the written word as much as he likes to; and he is more than willing to take advantage of this peace and quiet.

¹Actually, he hates terza rima, but this poem is about him so it will do.
²Complimentary.

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Claudius will say one thing, and it's that he certainly appreciates the amount of eyecandy Apollo provides for the mansion. Not out loud, of course, and not with the word eyecandy, but he does stop what he's doing (only carrying a stack of books to a table) to look Apollo slowly over in his scanty clothing. Like one of his husband's knit sweaters, but leaving considerably less to the imagination. He wonders whether Galahad would like the color.

Regardless, "Apollo," he says, with great cheer, setting all his books down somewhere between Petrarch's sonnets and Rilke's, "it's a pleasure to see you well."

Apollo is well aware of the effect he has on most people. It’s hard not to be, after 4000 years of existence; and he can’t help but turn a slow smile on Claudius when he feels eyes on him.

“You too,” he says sunnily, stretching a little. “How’s married life?”

Claudius will, he thinks, never tire of hearing that question. There will be a time when he isn't newly married, and people will stop asking, but he'll feel rather wistful and bittersweet about it. It will mean they've grown comfortable, that their marriage isn't a novel topic of conversation, but he'll savor the novelty while he has it. "It's the life I was meant to live. Know thou," he says, slipping very easily into familiarity, "I was once transformed to a child here, and a now-lover of mine told me of the life I would lead. It seemed to me an improbable fantasy, something I would have to bargain with demons to attain. And that was the life of a passably charming and handsome courtier who wanted, what? To negotiate a successful treaty with Norway? I am far happier here, away from courts and courtiers, with no greater ambition than to be my beloved Galahad's husband ... and perhaps extend the human lifespan for a few generations using the means of botanical cultivation. For all this, I only had to bargain with one or two demons, one of whom is a loving friend and owes me a favor." He's bragging, he knows it's insufferable, and he knows most etiquette books advise against it. He doesn't care. He smiles at Apollo, eying him over once more and appreciatively. "And then there's thy company to enjoy. How hast thou been?"

Claudius' lingering looks are not lessening his desire to preen. However, he manfully resists the urge by imagining how dumb he would look doing that as Lester. He had tried that with Reyna, and look where that had gotten him. Absolutely nowhere and embarrassed to boot -- which, really, one would expect of a hapless seventeen-year-old. At least he looked the part at the time.

He shrugs, all affable friendliness, but there is definitely still some intention in his gaze. "Oh, you know. Trying to keep my hyacinths alive, re-meeting previously dead people, the usual."

Claudius laughs, delighted for the small flirtatious game in-between sharing news. "Ah, so thou art familiar with both sides of botany. I presume the person in question was our resident underground orchid, recently emerged." He takes a seat on the arm of the couch by Apollo, sidling himself closer. "I thought to enlist thy aid, knowest thou. Such resurrections require a precise balance of sunlight and moonlight energy and I know the former is thy domain. Wouldst be willing to lend me thy time, and even more of thy company?"

Edited 2024-09-27 02:11 (UTC)

"I've met a couple previously-dead people, but usually that tends to be in dreams or I've been extremely mistaken for the past 3500 years. This one went much better than the last previously-dead guys I ran into." He'd rather talk about the almost-imminent zombiefication from aforementioned dead guys than the dreams, but he'll continue past that. "But yeah, I met Shen Yuan. He's nice. Has good opinions about the hotness of guys from Star Wars."

As if echoing Claudius' movements, Apollo shifts his sprawl a little closer, somewhat inviting, and grins. "Sure. As long as my uncle doesn't catch wind of it, the last time I tried to resurrect someone was, um. Unappreciated. By both him and my father." Though he did get to meet Admetus out of it, that was a bonus.

"It only adds to the allure, I promise thee," Claudius says with a side-swept glance and a smile. "I imagine most gods aren't keen on mere mortals uncovering the secrets of life and death. Leviticus has some choice words for those who go whoring after necromancers. I won't tell if thou'lt not."

"I don't know who Leviticus is," he says lazily. "But I can tell you my uncle sure didn't like it when Asclepius raised a man from the dead. Too much paperwork, I think, is the general gist I got."

"Oh, I'm never put off by paperwork," Claudius says, with the devil-may-care tone of a warrior who's seen too many battles to be frightened. "It's a shame there's no common law court with gods. If I could represent Asclepius as a lawyer or mediator, we could have sorted out a settlement ... I'm also not above bribing judges, admittedly. Who did Asclepius resurrect?"

"I mean, we do have Athena," he says, grinning a little. "I don't think she'd accept a bribe, though. Asclepius--" His voice turns fond here, if a little sad. He does love his son, it's just they're both so busy that even with being gods it's difficult to see each other. "He was --is the best healer I've ever met. Even better than me. Anyway, one day my sister asked him to resurrect one of her hunters, a guy named Hippolytos. Then my father punished Asclepius by striking him down with a thunderbolt."

"Ah." Claudius raises an eyebrow. "Well, that does sound more or less typical of men with too much power. My father also has a tendency to dole out harsh punishments for well-meaning missteps, and my brother continued the tradition. My condolences," he adds, more gently. He'd already gathered from Dionysus that Zeus was less than an ideal parent, or grandparent. It's worse for the immortals, he thinks -- unlike mortals with dynastic-minded parents, Apollo and Dionysus can't simply wait for Zeus to die off.

He shrugs slightly. "I wasn't about to let him get away with sending one of my favorite kids to Hades. ...Bear in mind this was a long time ago, please, I'm much less...angry now.¹ I, um, killed one of his cyclopes -- you know, the one-eyed monsters? -- They make his lightning bolts. Of course, I got punished for that as well; suspended and turned mortal for a year and serving a king, but I guess it turned out okay. My father brought the cyclopes back, along with Asclepius, and made him a god in the end."

¹Usually. Generally he's fine if his ex-boyfriend or any Roman emperor isn't around.

“Guilted into it, no doubt. Powerful men like your father tend to throw tantrums, regret the consequences of their actions, and only come around after a year or so to start the whole cycle over again. They’ll say the punishment was to teach you a lesson, but really they’re waiting out the term of their anger.” Claudius has a great deal of bitter thoughts on the subject. But then he turns an appreciative gaze to Apollo, smirks, and says, “I do respect thy effort, at least. I admire a man who can undercut his enemies effectively. Take out the source of his lightning bolts, ans the rest of his divine powers, and he’d just be an old man throwing a tantrum — I hope you aren’t offended to hear that about your father,” he adds, though there’s a sardonic twist to his tone that suggests he wouldn’t be that sorry.

"Definitely not. If you hadn't noticed, he's not exactly my, uh, favorite parent. I keep as far away from him as I can, these days. I don't want to give him that satisfaction of me being back." It's best for his sanity, in this case.

"It's the best one can do when one's parents are immortal," Claudius sighs, as though he knows all about it. He knows enough to imagine, and to offer something of his own experience. "My father," he says, "died when I was young. I mourned him the way you would any distant public figure, when you feel nothing but know some feeling is expected from you, because that's all he'd ever been to me. All I know is he trained my elder brother into his ideal successor, which doesn't speak to his credit. That's how mortals try to make an immortal legacy, by raising successors. The farther you are from Zeus, the better off you'll be, in my opinion. Congratulations."

He laughs, but it is unamused. "Thanks. You know, when I was mortal, they were betting on me, seeing if I would live or die? What a great extended family I have, huh?" He falls silent for a moment, flipping a page in his book. "At least Artemis wasn't with them, but she was forbidden from helping me."

"Artemis -- thy twin?" he asks, remembering that much of mythology.

"Yeah. Older twin," he replies with a fond smile. "She's the goddess of the hunt, the moon, lots of things. Has a whole pack of hunters that follows her around."

"Yes, she's still quite popular among maidens who wish to remain maidenly. Queer women," Claudius clarifies, since he has that word in his vocabulary.

“I mean, they might be queer, fair enough,” he shrugs. “But Artemis’ thing is more sworn to be celibate than anything else. I’ve got a couple friends back home that used to be hunters of hers, Emmie and Jo —but when they wanted to be together, like in a relationship; she let them leave. They gave up their immortality to be together. Got a cute kid too.”

"To be sure, I don't imagine any of my cohort back home were sincere worshipers of Artemis. It's simply how women who love other women find each other." But he smiles at the story. Sober in a priest in the middle of the day, he still loves love every bit as much as he told Tally at the bachelor party. "As thy friends Jo and Emmie found each other. Giving up the immortal hunt to have a cute little family -- how terribly romantic. Art thou a romantic, Apollo?"

He can't help but laugh, and it is again more charming than it has any right to be, though a little sadder than he's willing to admit. "I'm the god of poetry, what do you think?" Apollo leans back against his couch again, sprawl still inviting as ever, thoughtlessly attractive but somewhat subdued now.

"..Yeah. I guess I am," he continues, quiet. "Not to say that I get along well with my sister; in fact I think she gets great pleasure out of fucking my life up, but ...I'm a sucker for a pretty face."

Claudius laughs, feeling fond of Apollo in his openness, teasing, "I think a half of poetry must be written for that reason. In praise of a pretty face. Are there any faces thou hast noticed since coming to this place?"

"Well, of course. Aleksander, for one." He smiles fondly. "Susan's not bad either; but she didn't seem particularly interested. And some others, but --" There's a shrug. "I didn't exactly start off on the best foot with them."

“That's no problem. A little initial conflict creates tension, and leads to negotiation — romances that start smoothly won’t always stay so. If you've disagreements from the start, you learn how to resolve them." Or keep arguing until you've driven each other away completely, but Claudius doesn't have to say that. "Who are you thinking of?"

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