open: now winter nights enlarge the number of their hours

[papadopoulos]

I feel disgusting.
Dark sucks, so do baby germs.
(Sorry to Sunny.)
-———————————

It’s official. Apollo hates Dark and everything associated with it. Yes, he had been warned, but warning isn’t quite the same as living through it. He hasn’t felt this bad since he was Lester, and Lester almost died multiple times. (But did he ever have to put up with a sinus infection? Arguably as bad as almost turning into a vrykolakas.) His head feels like someone is playing timpani on his sinuses, he can hardly breathe–and to make matters worse, there’s a thunderstorm going on.

Every lightning strike makes him tense, every roll of thunder serves to remind him: “Don’t get on the wrong side of my lightning bolts, boy”. His father’s threats loom large in the back of his mind, like they always do when lightning gets too close. But he has duties to attend to; regardless of how he feels. Mousikí and Stíchoi must get their daily visits and cuddles, even if he would much rather be in bed. He does spend an excessive amount of time with them, even so: Stíchoi is nervous about the storm, and so Apollo --well, Lester-- soothes her with a scratchy-voiced song.

Later in the day – if it is day, it’s hard to tell, he might be found in one of the many kitchens, staring grumpily at a cupboard in hopes of getting at least one teabag out of it. Tea with honey would do wonders to make him feel better, but the mansion spirits seem to be as fickle as the Fates during Dark.

Comments

[vineleaves]

Dionysus figured that Dark would be especially hard on his brother, but he somehow didn't anticipate Apollo getting an illness. The god of Healing. It's incredibly worrisome. Of course, Dionysus figured his own powers would be greatly diminished, just as they had been the year prior, and that turned out to be correct this go around as well. It takes way more concentration to make anything using his wine and grape powers, his thyrsus has been barely able to create any honey, and well, he isn't even going to attempt to use any of his mind powers like this (sorry, Grantaire).

At some point when Apollo is back in his room, Dionysus knocks on the door. "Apollo?" he calls. "I've come to check up on--" a loud crash of thunder causes Dionysus to jump. "-- to check up on you, can I come in?"

[papadopoulos]

Apollo opens the door and sniffles somewhat miserably. He looks tousled and slightly damp -- he is still running hot, but not as much as he normally is, and the walk to and from the cow barn had been quite wet, to say the least.

"Yeah," he says, the picture of teenage misery, and steps back to gesture Dionysus in. "Ugh. Baby germs. Who invented germs, again?"

[vineleaves]

Dionysus raises an eyebrow. "I don't know, mighty god of Plagues, you tell me." But he's just joking. He's reasonably certain that germs predate both of them. "Get back in bed, I'm going to get a towel to try and dry off your hair."

[papadopoulos]

"Hey, I haven't done any plague arrows in months." But he's not in any mood to argue and drifts back towards the overly-large bed, eyeing the lightning crackling over the horizon somewhat warily.

[vineleaves]

"Please don't do any plague arrows in the future either," Dionysus says as he ducks into Apollo's bathroom to fetch a towel. "It would be nice if this could be a plague-free universe, thank you."

[papadopoulos]

"Well, don't send any giant bronze statues after me and we might have a deal." He sneezes, and curls up in a semi-miserable ball on his bed. "Uggggh, this sucks."

[vineleaves]

"Well darn, there go all of my plans for the giant bronze statue I just ordered," he says, emerging from the bathroom and promptly wrapping Apollo's head up in the towel and rubbing.

[papadopoulos]

"Please don't make me deal with Nero's stupid ugly face again," he says from the depths of the towel. "Even if it was his stupid colossus in the first place."

[vineleaves]

"Don't worry, I'm in no particular rush to see Nero either. Want me to make you some medicine?" And by 'medicine' he, of course, means kykeon. It's... medicinal...

[papadopoulos]

He arches an eyebrow. “Can you even make any right now?”

[vineleaves]

“It’ll take some concentration, but yeah. Last year I spent all of Dark making grapes and wine for everyone.” He’s still making some grapes, so that they have some fresh fruit at least, but he’s making a considerable amount less than last year, because needs are not as great. “Don’t know if I could manage the hallucinogenic kind, but honestly that’s probably for the best. Don’t want you spitting out any prophecies while you’re on your deathbed.”

[papadopoulos]

He sneezes, and promptly winces. "I guess, if you want. Really sucks that I'm not up for healing anyone right now; but I kinda leave that to Will and Asclepius these days."

[vineleaves]

"Oh, speaking of," he says as he starts forming some vines, trying to get a glass of kykeon for Apollo, "D'you think we should try to figure out how to get everyone here vaccinated? Étienne and I were talking about this recentlyish. Obviously not right now, but when Dark is over and we might have a chance at getting the mansion to provide us with... uh... with whatever we'd need for that." Dionysus, being a god with no blood and an inability to get or pass on diseases, has never had a vaccination before. He doesn't really know what all is involved in the process. The closest he has come to being involved was taking Mako to get shots when she was a kid, and that was sort of a 'Show up at the doctor's office and let them handle it from there' situation, obviously.

[papadopoulos]

"I mean. It couldn't hurt, I guess?" He frowns thoughtfully, though his shoulders are incredibly tense thanks to the ongoing storm outside. "I suppose I could try and make some. Though really, if anyone's going to catch anything, you would think they would have already." There's another sniffle to punctuate his sentence.

"Though I guess maybe most people don't have two-year-olds coughing into their mouths regularly."

[vineleaves]

"Are you sure that's where you got it? I don't think Sunny is this sick." Last he saw her she just had a runny nose.

[papadopoulos]

"It's a sinus infection, it's not like I'm dying of influenza. Almost dying feels much different, this feels like there's a marching band playing the drums in my brain."

[vineleaves]

"Well, here," he says, having finally finished the kykeon and handing it over. "It'll help."

[papadopoulos]

He looks mildly dubious, but takes it. "Thanks, bro."

[vineleaves]

"Yeah, no problem. D'you want me to play some music for you or anything?" he asks, looking over at Apollo's piano. He knows music generally helps Apollo feel better, but he doesn't want to make a headache worse or anything like that.

[papadopoulos]

"--Sure. Anything to, uh, drown out the.." --He winces at a particularly loud crack of lightning. "...Well, you know."

[vineleaves]

Dionysus also startles at the thunder. "Yeah, good point." He sighs. "It's not even him, but I still get so... jumpy with it."

[papadopoulos]

"Yeah. Same here."

[vineleaves]

“He’s such a piece of shit,” Dionysus says as he settles at the piano and starts playing Anything Goes.

[papadopoulos]

"Yeah." Apollo takes a meditative sip of his kykeon, wrinkling his nose just slightly. "He always has been, though."

[vineleaves]

"I hope he never shows up here..."

[papadopoulos]

He winces again, nodding. "Me, too. I plan on staying as far from Olympus as I can for a long time."

[vineleaves]

"Well, I've got some good news for you there, buddy. Couldn't even go if you wanted to for some reason."

[papadopoulos]

"...Yeah. I should see if I can get word to Artemis or something at least, though. Or Meg."

[vineleaves]

Dionysus sighs. "Wish I could've sent some letters for you with Ariadne when she came." But that obviously wouldn't have worked, due to the differing dimensions thing.

[papadopoulos]

"It's fine. Had a weird dream a while back so I got to see at least some of the kids." And by 'weird dream' he means it sort of felt like a prophetic dream.

[vineleaves]

"Oh, you didn't tell me about that..." Why didn't he tell him about it? Rude big brother. But Dionysus is, ultimately, happy for him. "How were they?"

[papadopoulos]

"Good. They said it had only been a couple weeks since I last checked in on them, so that was weird."

[temnota]

Whatever hopes that Aleksander had about Dark being less terrible this year were quickly dashed. His room had reverted to the unnecessary grandeur of his room at the Little Palace, the mirror showed him a face bearing dark angry scars that he swore he could almost feel and the strange shadow creatures were once again following him wherever he went. The closet too was giving him trouble - it was slowly but surely replacing his clothes with strange maroon-colored suits. And to top it all of, even the faintest light hurt his eyes.

Today, he had managed to find a kefta that had not been replaced by the bizarre suit so he was wearing that along with a pair of dark sunglasses. It had taken some time but had managed to cajole enough ingredients from the kitchen to make some chicken soup. It wasn't the most flavourable thing in the world what with everything coming out of a can but it was the best he could do for the moment and so he went to find Apollo, doing his best to ignore the jealous whispering of his shadow entourage.

[papadopoulos]

The Apollo in question can be found huddled up in a chair in his rooms, with a pile of blankets atop him. He's absent-mindedly doodling something or another and keeping a weather eye on the storm outside.

[temnota]

"Solnyshko, I come bearing soup!" Aleksander presented the bowl to Apollo as though he was offering tribute. His expression grew pained as he heard the shadow creatures mutter but they (for once) faded back into the corners of their own volition. "How are you feeling?"

[papadopoulos]

Once upon a time, Apollo would have gladly accepted that tribute, regal and commanding. Instead, here and now— he smiles, touched that someone has put in effort for him. “Like crap,” he says with a shrug. “My eyeballs are throbbing.”

[temnota]

"I know that feeling well. I am sorry, my darling." Aleksander bent down to kiss the top of Apollo's head, wishing for the first time in his existence that his affinity had been for healing, not shadows. "Would you like me to try to find some - what was it called - aspirin?"

[papadopoulos]

"It -- couldn't hurt, I guess?" He holds the bowl of soup in his hands, grateful for the warmth of it: even though he is still running hotter than a normal human, he is colder than he usually is. There's a beat, and he gives Aleksander a small smile.

"Thanks for the soup. I can't say I've ever really cooked any soup before; at the Waystation they mostly relegated me to chopping vegetables."

[temnota]

Aleksander sat on the arm of Apollo's chair, trying to muster the willpower to venture back out. It was not that he didn't want to go in search of the aspirin because he was willing to do whatever it took to help Apollo feel better, it was dealing with the dissonant whispers and general state of the Mansion. But he would get up and do it, he really would - he just needed a second.

"You are welcome. I did the best I could with what I could get from the cupboards," Aleksander sighed. "I never imagined there were such things as whole chickens in a can but well, I learned something today."

[papadopoulos]

"I'm sorry, whole chicken in a can?" Apollo tries his best to not look slightly horrified, he really does -- but the things mortals come up with these days astound even him sometimes.

"I've learned something today too, I guess," he says, shaking his head. "It looks good, anyway?" Hopefully it will taste alright too. Maybe???

[temnota]

"Whole chicken in a can," Aleksander confirmed in disgust. "Whatever horrors you are picturing, I assure you it cannot compare to the reality. I took several very hot showers after and I am still not convinced I have been cleansed."

[papadopoulos]

"Maybe we can borrow Dionysus' baths later and I can help you with that." Some steam might do him some good, after all. Now, however, the time for soup is at hand. He takes a tentative sip and...finds it to be not quite as horrible as he was imagining.