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

[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Today, he had managed to find a kefta that had not been replaced by the bizarre suit so he was wearing that along with a pair of dark sunglasses.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.