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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 21, 2019 0:47:42 GMT -5
For now you must go...you will never know me...Though, I pray you survive...
The words are lost in the blanket of darkness over the steep mountainous landscape. The only sound that seemed to reverberate against the rocky faces was that of a child. An infant. The cries of desperation from the child as it was held by its’ wrist over the edge of a cliff. Zeus looked down upon the child. His long silver hair hung down to his shoulder blades, his beard was thick and the same shade of silver, it reached down to his chest as wind began to whip against him. “Forgive me child.” He spoke in a low thunderous voice just before he tossed the infant over the edge. He turned his back upon the cliff then as his breath caught in his chest. It was a horrible thing, to throw a child away, a goddess. But he must. He told himself he had to do such a horrible thing. He couldn’t allow a child of his son Ares to live among the Gods. He simply didn’t need another God of War to spread destruction among the humans. The sounds of the child falling from Mt Olympus echoed through the valleys as lightning struck and storms surged the area. Zeus’ pale blue eyes closed a long moment when his eyes fell upon his son Ares.
Ares stood in his armor, a red cape flowed from his shoulders. A helmet upon his head with a plume that looked much like that of a spartan warrior. His belt upon his hips bore that of a skull just below his naval. His chest was chiseled like that of stone. His eyes were the only thing visible behind the shadows of his helmet, the eyes stared over the cliff, his jaw tight. “Your humans will suffer for this father.” Ares spoke in a growl.
Zeus rose his hand, a lightning bolt appeared in his fist. He let out a yell as he tossed it forward toward his son. A deafening clap of thunder struck as Ares flew back and slammed into the side of a cliff. An so, the gods fought...
***
That night was filled with one of the worst storms that Ithaca had seen in years. Every city around Mt Olympus felt the anger of the gods internal war...It wasn’t until morning that a child was found within the fields of a small city named Laconia.
A dog barked as it ran forward. It whined and growled. The brown shaggy dog looked up to the farmer whom wore loose robes about his body. It cried and bit onto his robes pulling him. The man followed. “What is it boy?” He questioned as he was tugged into the fields. His eyes looked to the dying dry crops around him. If he couldn’t get his crops to grow soon...the city would starve. The dog ran forward, barking. As the man walked forward he could hear the soft whimpers of a child. His eyes widened as he came to a thick patch of lush green grass, the only grass for miles at the time. A child, hastily wrapped in a heavy blue scarf looked up to him with forest green eyes. “Hey...” He spoke as he reached down. He scooped the baby up into his arms. She cooed happily and giggled slightly as he rocked her. “Where...did you come from?” He looked around. His eyes fell upon the distant Mt Olympus. He then looked to the thick lush grass where the child had been laying.
Over the next few weeks things for Laconia changed. The city had been starving. The livestock was sick and malnourished. There wasn’t any grass for the cows to eat. No crops to harvest. But, with the arrival of this child. This Gift from the Gods....their city began to flourish. The soldiers of Sparta were able to eat, able to train on full stomachs. They were able to take down enemies and concur new lands. Trees grew overnight it seemed. The plains received the rains that they needs. The drought had...disappeared...
The people of Laconia and Sparta alike were thankful for this saving grace. This child. She was given a name. Calliope, for her beautiful voice. The child was full of laughter that caused most residents of the land to smile in return. The spartan king Leonidas paid a visit to the old farmer late one night. He graciously offered the man to take Calliope under his care, and so she became the daughter of Leonidas, the warrior king. War stuck the land as the Spartans expanded their army. They were strong and they were ruthless. Leonidas trained Calliope and in hand. He spent hours teaching her the art of battle. Though, the young child would always tell her father that there must be a better way. There must be a way to stop the wars. Leonidas would only shake his head at his child and chuckle. “One day, you’ll understand, Callie.” He would say. “One day.”
Though as Calliope grew she became interested in learning the art of healing. She sat at the side of Agata, the local healer. He was the best there was. His stitches were precise. His bandaging would save a man. He knew his way around herbs and ointments. If she was to learn, this was the man to learn from. Calliope picked up on the skills as though she’d learned them in a second life before her time. Her stitching was flawless. Though, there was something about her that surpassed her teacher. Anyone she touched, any soldier that seemed to be mortally wounded would miraculously recover. This gave Sparta a boost against their enemies. They stopped losing men. She would travel with the soldiers. Calliope begged her father to stop the wars, but it seemed he was propelled forward....a never ending want for conquer the world around him. Nothing was ever enough. And so, she continued...as it was her father’s wish. He’d raised her, she owed him that much, if not more...
Calliope began experimenting with her healing. She’d noticed that a flower in her vase upon her kitchen table had died, and after she’d moved it from the table, the next night it was alive again. It seemed anything that she touched would mend. She sliced into her own arm and held her hand over the bleeding wound, only for her skin to stitch itself shut within a matter of minutes. She’d always been called a gift from the gods, Leonidas spoke those words to her time and time again. Calliope began to wonder, just what god would throw her away? If she truly was a gift, why here? Why the spartans? They did not listen to reasoning, they were men of war. People that fought through tooth and nail. Peace was not something that was in the vocabulary of a spartan it seemed...and yet, here she was. A gift from the gods. Just who was she? Leonidas praised the God Ares, God of War. Thanking him for their strength in battle. They always seemed to come out ahead, no one could stand against the Spartans and their incredible military tactics.
**
“I need ointment over here.” Calliope spoke her voice calm. She sat over a wounded soldier, she wore her loose white robe, her thigh stuck from the side of the robe her thick plated spartan armor beneath. The spartan had a dagger sticking into his ribcage. His breaths were ragged. Her hand was upon his chest. “Just breathe. Calm down Tavas.” She looked into his eyes. “You’re going to be alright.”
“Ares....would...be proud....” He grit his teeth. “I will have died a true....spartan...” Blood could be seen in his mouth.
“You’re not dying, not today.” Calliope chuckled. It amused her how willing Spartans were to die in war. They were trying to win the war, were they not? Dying was not the answer to winning. It was quite the opposite and yet they embraced death as if it was a warm hug and a kiss from a loved one. Calliope lifted her hand as Agata approached her with a thick rolled leaf of ointment. She took it into her hand. “Deep breath.” She spoke as she quickly pulled the blade from the man’s chest. He let out a scream of pain as she quickly packed the wound. She then pulled a needle and thread from the leather pouch that sat in the dirt next to her. Calliope worked quickly. Her fingers like magic as she sewed his wound shut. Within a few minutes the bleeding had ceased. She placed her hand over the wound a moment before she wrapped a cloth around his chest. “There.” She smiled to him. “Better.” She chuckled as she stood and wiped her hands. She moved to the next soldier. And the next. This was her job. She was support for the war. She did her job effortlessly.
That night Calliope walked down the streets of Sparta. She could hear the cheers of men within the taverns, welcoming their most recent win. She’d been there watching them battle. Her father led them forward in battle. For a king, he was one of the few that fought in battle alongside his men. She believed that was why Sparta was so strong, so invincible. Though Leonidas would say it was the Gods will. Ares had lended a hand to them in battle. “If the God of War wanted a true battle wouldn’t he strike his rage upon the Spartans? We have conquered so many men...” Calliope looked to her father as they stood on the battlefield. “Would he not push us back?”
Leonidas chuckled as he looked to his daughter. “He propels us forward and allows us these wins, my girl. His grace is upon us, his eyes watch our every move. He is proud of our efforts, Calliope.”
Her father’s words stuck to her. Calliope held a book in her hands. A book of the gods. She’d been reading it from cover to cover since she was old enough to decipher the letters. If she was a gift of the gods...why would she she be thrown away? Why the Spartans who had the grace of Ares? Calliope let out a sigh as she walked into one of the taverns. She sat down at the bar and offered a smile to the barkeep whom slid a mug of ale to her. “A great victory!” He grinned. The other spartans around her cheered loudly.
Calliope chuckled as he nodded to the barkeep. “We are as strong as Ares graces us to be.” She raised her glass to him as she flipped open her book. She was always drawn to Ares. Her eyes looked to the sketched out image. A man in armor that looked much like the armor of the Spartans. He was strong. A powerhouse of strength. He represented the war. Everything that she hated. Calliope drank from her ale.
“Graced by the Gods! Calliope saved me!” Tavas approached her. It was only a few days since she’d healed his wound on the battlefield and he was already nearly fully recovered. “A round on me.” He hugged her and kissed her cheek, a chuckle came over his lips. “I had given in! I accepted my fate and yet you saved me!” He stared into her eyes. “We are lucky to have you.” He bowed his head slightly to her before he disappeared into the crowd once more.
Calliope shocked her head as she chuckled. So many of the soldiers adored her. She’d saved many of their lives, just as easy as lifting a finger. She hardly had to think about her actions when she was busy mending their wounds. Her ability to recover the men’s wounds had increased over her years as a healer as well. She finished off her ale and nodded to the bar keep. “Keep them in check tonight.” She winked to him as she closed her book and stood. Calliope stepped from the bar, she felt a warm gentle buzz about her body from the alcohol. It was always a welcomed feeling after returning from battle.
She walked toward the ocean and out onto the docks as the moon rose high into the skies. Calliope spent a lot of time at the docks. The gentle crashing of waves brought her peace. It calmed her down after she returned from battle. She hated to see so many lives lost. Even if they were men that attempted killing the Spartans. War was not something she would ever be fond of. She sat down upon the edge of the dock, her feet dangled down toward the water as she opened up her book. She glanced down at the worn pages. “I’m not gift...” She muttered to herself, she’d always fought with the idea. She hated being called the gift of the gods. Though it sparked curiosity. Her healing ability....what was it? No one else held such.....magic....that was the only word she could think of. Ares wouldn’t grace her with healing. No. That is the opposite of what the God of War would want. So why her? Why did she have such an ability? Calliope sighed softly as she looked across the calm waters again, a storm surged in the distance. “At play again Zeus?” She questioned, a soft smile upon her lips as a breeze began to kick up and push through her chestnut hair.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 21, 2019 0:48:25 GMT -5
Savage was often the term coined for the Spartans, specifically to those that were not within their protection. Just outside of the border of Spartan territory rest a small port town named Namial. This town was undecided, and partook in neither side of any fight – they just barely survived day by day. The Spartans took no pity in this decision and quickly overwhelmed the city, and their flags planted high in ownership. To choose not to fight was to choose a cowards death, and so their actions are justified. They killed off everyone, men and woman, leaving only the innocent children – who were not able to decide. These children were taken – to be sold and traded amongst the Spartans as slaves…
Memory of that day was just a passing blur, a lost part of a life which was partitioned and stored away in the furthest reach of the mind. Though the truth always festered and boiled under the built surface of this new life, a Slave, but a Spartan Slave none the less. Some of the Spartans considered this their gift to the slaves, for being on the opposing side meant death.
“What is your name, boy?” A man knelt down before a fragile figure. This man, A spartan hero – a red cape about his back, shining golden boots – he was a spitting image of the perfect warrior.
“Archavill” The boy looked up to this Spartan, blue hues slathered with worry – a tint of tears threatening to brim over his eyes.
“Hmph…” The man stood. “I am Damen of Sparta… and your new name is Deacon” he scoffed then. “A servant, and no more than that” he stepped back and waved to his wife. “Your master – my wife, Ione. You are to be at her every command… Do you understand, Deacon?” he questioned while placing a hand upon his perfectly trimmed beard, eyes watching the boy.
“Yes, of course. I am Deacon – Deacon of—”
“Deacon of no where, nobody, no-anything. You are simply Deacon” The Spartan quickly spoke and then turned swiftly – his cape ruffling with such a movement.
Over time Damen disappeared – he would come home every so often only to venture out to war once more. Deacon often questioned it but soon learned to stop. Ione would explain that was the way things were, and she was more than happy to do exactly as she was. Together Ione and Deacon wove fabric and created tools for the small Spartan City of Valistone, it was not much but a speck on the surface of all the lands mastered by these great warriors. Though, there was one great war in which Damen never returned. Ione had swore he would come home, but not a single word was delivered of his status. A great officer – dying in combat, and his wife left widowed? She could not be certain of this truth, but after 5 long years she came to believe it.
The men of Valistone were dwindling, and the city was on verge of dissipating off the map. No men to come home and plunder, to rekindle the flame of life, and thus what was left died away. Deacon and Ione had become closer over these years, ten years passing since their ownership. Though Deacon knew his place as a servant, he would sneak away and train with the other rising Spartans, though most often he was just a walking meat shield for them. He picked up on their learnings, and over time – he defeated even the greatest of rising-warriors. Yet every night he would wake in his home, to resume his threading, his kneading and such.
The final wave of boys were sent and the village was left with nothing but women and young children. And the elders passed. Deacon stood in the center of the training square with the only person who knew how to fight. Over time his history of being a Slave was forgotten, or perhaps people cared not for he was the only one standing for the sinking village. He trained, and he taught the others how to fight. The Blacksmiths, the farmers, everyone learned to wield a sword. Just for the act of protecting the village as the war came closer to its gates. When he finally turned twenty five – he was deemed a Spartan. Deacon of Sparta.
***
“Are you prepared?” A woman approached, she was slightly older with long black hair. Her skin was once smooth and young, now had gentle aging lines and the like.
“Ione, of course” Deacon grinned. He held a Spartan helmet between his side and arm, a long spear in his grip. He donned Demon’s armor, and it fit perfectly. The man he once stared up to – was the man he was today. Chiseled and powerful. There was not a soul more proud to stand in such an attire, to wield a legendary weapon… He tried to keep it secret, though around Ione his plastered grin would not fade.
Ione laughed then as she fixed his cape. “Ah… I remember the first time I sent Damen away to war, he was almost as proud as you. But… you have come a long way, hm? This village has much to thank for you” she smiled then and lifted a large shield and held it to him. Deacon then attached his helmet to his belt and grasped the shield, his arm fitting into the back perfectly. “This.. is not quite war, Ione. I am just protecting the Mountain Pass…. The Persians are pushing closer and closer, if we can hold this point – it will give time for the Spartan troops to go around and ambush” he smiled. “I’ve got this” he nodded.
“Indeed you do…” Ione pat his chest. “Very well… of you go” she followed him to the door. It opened and they emerged to a small town center. A collection of men dawning red capes waited for Deacon, their leader. They turned and then stood at attention, lined up perfectly in 3 lines of 8.
“Holding the Carving Pass is a key point of this war… Holding it means protecting our village, protecting our people, protecting our land – as Spartans!” Deacon stood before them and slammed his spear against the dirt, the men followed – chanting and hooting. “We shall move at once.” He turned then and stepped forward. For a brief moment his eyes found Ione, who nodded to him, and his golden boots pressed against the sandy path.
They came to the pass within a single days time. They quickly bolstered the defenses with spiked fences and even a makeshift watch tower. Their eyes stared down the mountain side – awaiting the troops. They would set the brazier and then the opposing Spartan group would make way for an ambush. They stood for several days. A week passed, then a month. Food and supplies were delivered, a several treated leather canteens of fresh water – as they had ran drastically low. Deacon lifted his and took a long gulp, never having though that food and water would be their true threat. The men began to doubt him, wondering if their actions were true. They were not real Spartans, they were once farmers, wearing red capes, they doubted him.
In the middle of the night – there was a sudden horn blowing. Deacon shuddered from his sleep – a deep cough from his lungs. Some how within a matter of days he grew sick. He was lethargic, his cough was brutal, and often blood caked his throat from it. This sickness resulted in him falling asleep during his night watch, which his turn was to end shortly.
The men quickly jumped from their bed rolls and grasped their swords. Just as they rose – heavy hooves clashed down upon the ground. Swords clattered – spears thrusting. The Spartans, without their formation, were weak and caught off guard, and easily disposed off. Deacon stood watching as the men fought – and fell swiftly. He gripped his spear, he was to charge inward, but his cough kicked in. He gripped his chest as his body fought his command, and he stumbled as his vision faded. His spear fell, shield clattering to the ground as he fell backward, rolling down the mountain side. Leaving the pass completely defenseless.
***
“Wake up son!” A shout through water. Deacon choked suddenly, gargling cold water as his head was pushed into a bucket. It was dirty water, like the water used to wash the bums of warriors. Deacon’s head was pulled back, and he was shoved to the ground swiftly.
“You piss ass of a Spartan!” A man stood. A general, judging by his helmet, of the Spartan military. He kicked Deacon’s side and cursed loudly. “You cost us much!” he shouted. “You failed to light the beacon, you allowed the Persians to march happily through – you, you – You realize every village in the first hundred miles Is burnt to the ground?! Hmm?!” he shouted and then paced swiftly.
Deacon rolled over and gripped his stomach and coughed harder, a glob of blood landed on the ground. He slowly turned and looked to this General. Ione… his village, his people… The Persians killed them. He grit his teeth and groaned deeply as pain wracked his body.
The General stepped over and pulled at Deacon’s cape, yanking it from his shoulders, he grasped the helmet and tossed it aside. “Markus told us the truth” he spat. “You jumped from the mountain side, a coward – you are not willing to die by the blade hm? To die for Sparta!? Well, it is fitting, considering you are just a slave boy, pretending to be a Spartan. Ahhh, I ought to kill you, I should. But I cannot, I will not. You don’t deserve it anyways. You shall live with your lies” he pulled a dagger from his high and then he leaned down. The General cut into Deacon’s skin, carving a symbol across his entire chest.
Deacon tried to fight again the General, but he was no match against the mans pure size and strength. The symbol. Deacon looked down to his bloodied chest which stung heavily from the cut. It was the Symbol of the Betrayer. “No- no” he shook his head.
The General stood and then scoffed. In that moment the entire Spartan troop, that was supposed to ambush the Persians turned from Deacon and left him at the base of the mountain. Left him to die, to be chewed to bits by vultures or scavenged by wolfs. The worst death. The death of a Betrayer. Deacon rolled over and gripped his chest, his blood causing the dirt beneath him to clump up. His eyes shut, fingers grasped tight, he sobbed as everything he has fought so desperately for was ripped away from him. He could not run home, he couldn’t return to Sparta, he couldn’t even be a Spartan slave…
Seemingly, despite all his want to die, he did not, he could not. It was if something barred him. Within a day he stood. His entire body was covered in thick bloodied dirt. His dragging feet lead him east, towards the ocean. Along the way he was aided by a woman living alone in a forest. She offered him a place to rest…she did not question his wounds as she tended to him, for there was an obvious reason why she was alone in the forest too. She was quiet, but kind.. She hand fed him soup, until soon he was well enough.
“You are sick…” She spoke softly and placed a hand upon his shoulder as he sat on the bed. “It is not something I know how to heal… it is a sickness that is invisible to the eye… hm..?” she laid out a set of armor. “Take this… you need to get across the river, I have a small boat docked not far… You need to seek out the Gift of the Gods, Calliope, you have heard of her?” the woman questioned.
“Calliope… Leonidas’ daughter?” he questioned with a weak and fragile voice.
“You could say that… she is a very gifted woman, only she can cure you…” The woman spoke, her blonde hair shuffling as she moved her gaze – pushing him towards the armor. “You have a long journey ahead of you…”
Deacon slowly stood and made his way to the clothes. He Lifted it – a hardened leather chest plate, to hide his marking… it was chiseled and rippled like that of a muscular man, it would keep his appearance strong… He clasped it on, along with the one sided shoulder pad over his sword arm, and a fine leather pteruge with a high waisted belt line. He was not a Spartan, but he did appear a warrior… His hair trimmed down by the woman, and he cleaned up swiftly.
She lead him to the door and he took several steps forward. He turned then, just after a weak cough. “I do not know your name” he looked. The small home he was in… vanished. The woman.. gone. His memory of this woman, the hut, it was already foggy. He groaned and stepped forward, a sword on his waist, a shield upon his back. He made his way to this boat… He found it within moments time and climbed into it. As he pushed it into the water and rushed upward – he leaped into the wooden vessel and grasped an oar. Though he paused for a long cough, which his body trembled as his muscles grew weak.
“Come on…” he muttered. What was driving him? He had no idea… He paddled several times , until his vision simply faded and he slumped back slightly, entranced by the gentle moonlight – that offered him a break from his pains.. The boat drifted forward, carried by the gentle current. Until it was across the river and pointed downward. It soon smacked into a dock and he was startled awake. Loud coughs filled his lungs, blood splattering. What was happening to him? Was he really going to die to sickness? This… unfamiliar sickness. Was it the plague? No… no discolorations on his skin. He was pale, but that was it. A unforgiving cough, a weakness that threatened to submerge him.
He slowly tried to stand – but simply fell back against the boat, his fingers just barely touching the dock as he tried to hang on. His hues searching, he tried to yell for help, but it wouldn’t come through his raw voice. His eyes fell upon someone who sat on the edge of the dock, just on the other side of him. He thrashed slightly, his hands gripping the dock, he forced his body onto it like a fish leaping from the water. Landing with a thud…
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 21, 2019 1:32:24 GMT -5
Calliope was laying on her back, looking up to the stars. Her book rest against her chest. The clouds were beginning to swirl over the bright milky way, thunder echoed louder now. Closer. The wind had kicked up and the soft mist from the sea scattered across Calliope’s body. “Ah Poseidon has come out to play too.” She let out a soft chuckle.
It was then that there was a clatter of wood against the side of the dock. Calliope jumped up, her book flew forward and cascaded over the edge of the dock. Her eyes darted to it and she reached forward only for the book to fall into the crashing waves beneath her. Calliope grit her teeth as she spun around. She saw a woman pull herself onto the deck. Weakness was evident. Though, weakness is always something that could be faked to fool an enemy. Calliope drew her dagger, she was silent as she watched the woman collapse with a thud onto the dock. She could see the crimson color of blood splattered upon the wood in the moonlight.
“Get up.” Calliope ordered, her voice harsh, it was nothing like she spoke to her fellow spartans. She moved forward to the still body, her dagger ready to plunge into the woman’s body if she moved to attack. “I said get up.” Calliope spoke again, though her expression softened as the woman didn’t move. She searched over her body, she didn’t move at all. Calliope moved forward swiftly and nudged the woman with her foot, nothing. She then pushed with her foot to roll the woman onto her back, her brows drew together as she looked at the blood that was fresh upon her lips. Calliope had people come from other cities to her. They heard of her gifts. She took in a breath as she sheathed her blade, this woman wasn’t going to be a threat anytime soon.
Calliope reached down. “Come on.” She spoke softly as she slipped her arms beneath the woman carefully. “I’ll get you some help.” She pulled her then, her heels clicked against the boards of the deck as she was dragged toward the city. Calliope was strong but, she couldn’t quite carry another human with armor on.
“Calliope, what are you doing?” A voice came form over her shoulder.
“A refugee.” Calliope spoke, her chest raised and fell quickly as the man approached.
“Here.” It was one of her father’s guards. He stepped forward and scooped the woman up into his arms. “She’s really sick, Calliope...” He muttered as he noted the blood.
Calliope only returned a nod, she didn’t speak a moment as she stood there, she could hear the raspy breathing of the woman and she bit her lip slightly. She was near death. “Come on.” She spoke as she turned and headed through the streets. She weaved through the homes and came to a white door. It was the entrance to her home. “Bring her in here.” She spoke as she pushed the door open. She walked into the backroom where her bed lay. Calliope let out a breath and pointed to her bed with a nod. “She’ll have to go there.” She spoke as she moved to the other room. She began pulling several glass vials, herbs and liquids from a cabinet.
“Calliope...”
“You may leave.” She looked to the spartan a moment.
“Calliope, I’m not certain that your--....”
“You may leave, Nicholas.” Her eyes burned into his as she watched him a long moment before she began mixing several things together quickly. The spartan stood idly for a moment before he left the home. Calliope struck a match beneath a pot on her small stove. She lit a fire and added water from a pouch into the pot carefully mixing in the liquid she’d created. She stirred it, adding in other things here and there while she worked together a mush in a bowl near her stove.
Soon enough Calliope had a mug of hot liquid, almost like a tea, but it was very far from that. She also had a paste that she had within a bowl it was a green mush that she’d stuck a wooden spoon into. She stepped from her kitchen and back into the small room that was her bedroom. She set the mug and the bowl on her wooden night stand and she looked over the woman. “Okay.” She breathed as she left and returned with a bowl of water and a fresh towel. “Let’s see...” She spoke as she carefully dabbed the blood from the woman’s lips. Her eyes looked over her and she let out a breath slowly, what if this woman was an enemy? She shook her head. It didn’t matter the woman needed her help.
Calliope carefully smeared the paste into a few of the wounds that were visible on the woman’s arms and legs. She dared not remove any of her armor, for the time being. Though, she’d taken her sword and leaned it against the wall near the exit of the room. Calliope carefully lifted the woman’s head. “You need to drink this.” She spoke softly as she carefully moved and held her up. Calliope sat behind her using her chest against the woman’s back to hold her in a seated position. She then carefully tilted the mug and over time she got the woman to drink most of the liquid. She would dab away at what would come from her mouth between coughs. Calliope drew her brows together. “What...sickness is this?” She questioned softly as she lay her back down. She carefully lay a blanket over her and placed her hand on the woman’s forehead. Calliope closed her eyes, she took in slow deep breaths as she sat there. She remained there for nearly an hour, a soft glow had even emitted from her hand. She sat back and let out a shuddering breath, her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. “Hopefully that helps.” She whispered softly as she stood. She used the wall to balance herself as she looked over the woman again. Calliope then moved to the other room. She opened a chest and pulled out a pallet which she carefully arranged on the floor next to her dining room table. She brought her dagger from her thigh and lay on her side, her hand beneath the pillow gripped onto her dagger. If she needed to defend herself....she would be ready. She easily slipped into a deep slumber, her body fell loose, her expression became peaceful and carefree.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 21, 2019 2:00:41 GMT -5
Demi woke in the late morning to a gentle touch of sun rays across her pale face. She rolled in the bed and groaned deeply. Her body felt as if it had been completely ran over, and then twice more. Her chest felt aflame, but yet her cough was no longer. Her throat and lips were finally blood caked free. She slowly sat up, a hand held to her shoulder, just under her shoulder piece.... Meanwhile her hues glanced about the delicate home. Her eyes fell to a platter of medicines laid out... she was saved. That woman, who was that woman, the one who told her to go here? It had to be fate, the gods, where they watching her...if so... why?
Demi shifted her legs so that she sat on the edge of the bed, with a heave she lifted herself. Her steps were wobbly at first, but with each movement - her muscles loosened. She found herself trailing the small home, trying to figure out exactly where she was, what happened. Between the cottage in the forest and now - was a blur of time. She remember the boat, rowing, then the deck, just barely.
“Hello?” She questioned softly. What was once a throaty gutter of a voice was now smooth and silky, with a touch of strength. Her eyes glanced to her sword and shield... but she did not touch them. No... She knew she was likely a stranger to whomever homed her, and cared not to scare them. Demi turned the corner until she came to a room, to peer down to a woman who was rising.
Demi looked to her for a long moment... this person was sleeping on the floor. It should have been her on that pallet. “You must have... been the one to save me?” She questioned, though she grimaced slightly as her shoulder “Thank you... I am...forever grateful” she bowed her head slightly. “I am Demi... Demi of...” She shut her eyes briefly.
Her men flashed before her eyes, a head lobbed straight from his shoulders by a Persian - to fall and roll to a stop. Then her falling, to wake shamed by the Spartan. The dagger piercing her skin...
Demi cleared her throat. “Just Demi” she whispered and nodded slowly. “A um, sword for hire” she glanced down. Her shoulder was bleeding, a trail of blood leaking down the length of her right arm “But um...” She covered it with her hand. “No longer, I think. If you will accept my sword as payment for what you have done, then I am no longer a sword for hire, just a guardian...” She drew her hand back slightly, viewing the bright red coloration on her hands.
“Excuse me...” She muttered swiftly and turned around. She found the bathing-room swiftly, where a bowl of water rest. She shut the door and unstrapped her bulky shoulder piece to reveal bloodied wraps around shoulder and arm “Damnit...” She whispered as she pressed a hand down against her stomach, to try and stop the bleeding. It wasn’t working... she sighed deeply and began to unravel the long linen from her body.
Her eyes looked to the foggy mirror. The symbol covered her entire shoulder, from the base of her neck to mid bicep, it was unavoidable, and if it weren't for her special shoulder piece... Demi looked around briefly and found the fresh bath-cloth and pushed it against her shoulder. She groaned deeply and pressed her head against the bucket slightly. The wound was festering, infected, and the pain was throbbing...
Demi turned and opened the door, her eyes peering to the woman right away. “I um...” She was still holding the cloth in place, which was already bloodied. “I must ask for... more help.. but” she shook her head. “I beg you to hear my plea” she shook her head as she removed the cloth, revealing the symbol, of the betrayer. “It is... not as it seems” she whispered softly. Defeated was the tone of her voice. “I...” She looked to the woman, hoping for something, anything then what she expected.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 21, 2019 2:30:12 GMT -5
The uttered hello brought Calliope’s eyes open. She waited for the woman to come around the corner, her hand gripped tightly around her dagger. Though as the woman rounded the corner without her readily available weapons she let out a breath. Calliope stood slowly as she sheathed her blade. “Demi.” She repeated the name, a soft smile on her lips now. She felt tired she looked over the woman. Her eyes moved to her bloody hand. Though just before she could speak the woman excused herself. She stepped forward slightly and then let out a breath. She knew she should have searched beneath the armor. She shook her head then. Calliope took in a slow breath, she felt as though she hadn’t slept at all.
When the woman came back from the washroom Calliope looked to her arm that she held the already bloody cloth to. “Of course.” She offered a gentle smile. She drew her brows together and let out a soft chuckle. “Nothing is ever as it seems, is it?” She questioned. Come on.” She walked her back into the bedroom. “Sit here.” She spoke as she lifted the paste. “I’ll be right back.” She left the room with the empty mug and the bowl of dried paste.
Calliope stepped into her kitchen where she ground up more herbs, she mixed in a few liquids and mushed it together carefully. She knew the exact amount for everything. She then grabbed a few cloths and tossed them over her shoulder, she would use a few to clean, a few to dry, and then a few to wrap. She poured a fresh bowl of water and she stepped back into her bedroom. Calliope nodded then as she looked to Demi. “This may hurt.” She spoke as she searched her eyes.
She reached her hand forward and pulled the cloth from Demi’s arm. Calliope took in a breath as she looked over the wound. Her brows pulled together slightly but she didn’t speak. She lifted one of the cloths and dipped it into the water and began cleaning the wound. “Deep breaths.” She spoke as she lifted the bowl and ran the water over it. She cleaned all of the debris from the wound, the puss from the infection. Her face didn’t change the entire time, she was calm. Collected. Calliope dried the wound and she packed the herbs into it. As she pressed her hand against the wound she took in a sharp breath. Calliope’s brows quivered slightly, her breathing trembled and her eyes fluttered.
Calliope stood on the battlefield. She glanced around as the Spartans slept peacefully into the night. Her eyes looked up to the watch tower as she heard a horrible coughing sound. She walked forward and climbed the ladder quickly to see Demi laying on her back on the tower, passed out from exhaustion, blood caked on her lips. She looked up then as she heard the beat of hooves and feet upon the ground. “No....no get up!” She cried her eyes widened. “Damnit get up!” She watched then as the Persians slaughtered the spartans, as Demi fell from the cliff, she fell with her. Calliope screamed as they fell only to end up on her knees at her side. “You didn’t do it on purpose.” She breathed and shook her head. Time seemed to fast forward as the sun rose. She stood by idly and watched the General scream at Demi. A slave. He cut the mark into her shoulder. Calliope looked away. She’d seen those marked with the symbol before, many times it was a mistake...
Calliope took in quick breaths, her eyes had nearly rolled into the back of her head, her head had bowed forward, her teeth grit as the memory was forced upon her. Tears had welled in her eyes as she sat there a long moment, her hand still cupped over the wound. She swallowed as she gathered herself and she looked to Demi. “This, isn’t your fault Demi.” She gave a slight nod. “You didn’t deserve this.” She had visions like this before. She’d seen how a warrior suffered a wound. But, those warriors were always unconscious, never had she slipped into the dream when a warrior sat awake before her. Calliope lifted her needle and began stitching the wound shut. She was silent over the next several minutes as she created perfect stitches. Then she caked more paste over the wound before she wrapped the cloth around it carefully. “There.” She breathed as she rinsed her hands in the bowl of water. “That....that should heal nicely...”
Calliope stood slowly as she gathered the empty bowls she carried them into the other room. She staggered slightly and fell forward, a bowl crashed to the ground and shattered. Calliope gasped as she landed on her hands and knees. She’d never felt this weak before...she couldn’t place the feeling.
She lifted the bowl and a few pieces that had broken off of it before she stood again. She made her way back to her room. “I won’t speak of your wound.” She spoke then as she leaned against the wall. “I have seen my fair share of Spartans receive such a mark that would never in a thousand years deserve it. But Ares is a cruel God that we follow faithfully.” She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “Most of us anyway.” She let out a soft chuckle and shook her head. Calliope looked to Demi with her forest green eyes then. “I am Calliope, daughter of Leonidas, of Sparta.” She searched the woman’s eyes. “I’d keep that mark concealed if I were you.” She closed her eyes again, she was so tired. “My father wouldn’t be too pleased to see it, even though....you didn’t deserve that...you were terribly...ill.” She was fighting to stay awake now. “You’re lucky that I was on the dock...” She gave a soft tired smile. “Most Spartans may have killed you...” She then opened her eyes again. “You may call me Callie, if you wish.” She spoke softly and gave a nod at the end.
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Post by Raven on Jan 21, 2019 16:58:41 GMT -5
Demi bit her bottom lip as she moved over to sit in a chair. Her fingers wrapped around a cloth as she felt the dabbing upon her shoulder. She wince and sucked in a breath as water spilled down her arm. A soft pink mixture of blood and water dripped down and was dabbed away. She leaned her head back then as the marking was packed. Then the next moment came swiftly - it was like getting punched in the chest. Demi sucked in a breath and she relived her past over once more. Once...more. She watched and then it was over. Normally while she slept it was as if it was on loop, playing over and over. Watching the men die. Her body tumbling down the side of the mountain. Then a swift kick to the chest. The hot fire of the knife.
Demi grit her teeth and opened her eyes - looking Calliope who had her head leaning forward. She watched and tilted her head. "Did you just...?" she paused. "Did you see it?" she whispered and shook her head. "How do you know that?" she leaned her head down as she watched the perfect needle work upon her arm. She then lowered her head as Calliope wrapped her arm. Once she was done Demi lifted her shoulder piece back up and strapped it into place, a leather strap crossing her chest and tightening into place.
Demi lifted her head as there was a crashing of bowls, she was on her feet instantly, but Calliope recovered swiftly. "You okay?" she questioned as she glanced back - a few pieces remained on the floor. "Hmph..." she muttered. "You think the gods truly have a hand in our lives? I feel as if we are godless" she shook her head. "I'm not the only one to suffer, so many suffer, they choose one side and I wish I could even say that it was the Spartans... no..." she shook her head. "They say you are a Goddess. You heal.. you fight, you cleanse and bring peace, even" she chuckled "that the trail of your footsteps is that of daisies and lemongrass" Demi shook her head. "Maybe this is true, maybe Gods exist. Honestly, the only one that matters is you. They're up there, playing around with each other, while you are here - making a difference. So, if Ares wills it or not doesn't matter. Our fate, our lives are in our hands, the gods don't have the time to help us? I am sure they dont have the time to dictate our fact, hm?" though her passionate gaze faded as she watched the woman practically daze off.
"You're tired... you took care of me all night, you should rest." she picked up her things from the bed. "Please" she held her hand out, pointing to the bed. "I'll um, take care of the rest, hm?" she questioned and then looked to her for a final moment. "Thank you again. I am in your debt" she then walked into the other room. She cleaned up the shattered bowl, and then proceeded to tidy up the home. She didn't move anything, just did some dishes. She came across a pile of clothes and proceeded to make up a batch of hot water. She sat outside on the back deck and scrubbed the clothes in the washing bin, then to rinse them off and hang them. Though she lifted up a beautiful red cloth, it had a large tear it in. She tilted her head and found herself rummaging through the house until she came upon a sewing kit.
Demi had hung all the clothes and cleaned up her mess, putting everything exactly back where she found it. All of which she was used to, and knew well to do, coming from a long winded background of being a servant. She crossed her legs over each other and held the cloth in her hand, it was a waist scarf, meant to tie at the waist for decorative purposes. She lifted a thread and needle and proceeded to stitch carefully. Ione was considered one of the more talented seamstresses in all of the mountains. Many women would come through to get fitted, special dresses and the like made. Her tailoring skills were like no other. Being her assistant, or slave, or whatever one might call her, Demi picked up an equally strong skill in this. Though she didn't quite enjoy it as much as Ione, but it was something she knew she could do well.
Demi finished and it looked practically new, the stitch was tiny and it could hardly be seen... she smiled and then put the kit back together and in the closet once it came. She placed the cloth on the back of the couch and then found herself in the kitchen, cooking up the only thing that appeared to be there. Breakfast. She cracked eggs onto a pan, slices of cured bacon, toasted bread and diced potatoes. The house filled with the warm smell of food. It had been maybe 6 hours since Calliope had laid down, she hoped the food would wake her. The house was clean, no dust to be found, it smelled like fresh lemons... Since Demi used a classic home-made cleaner, water, lemons and natural soaps...
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 21, 2019 23:13:21 GMT -5
Calliope looked to Demi with almost sad eyes as she spoke out against the Gods. Then her brows raised as Demi spoke of her as a Goddess. She shook her head slightly. “Demi I am not a Goddess.” She spoke her voice small, her forest eyes looked over the woman a moment. “Such passion and all of it is aimed against the Gods.” She watched her a long moment, a soft tired chuckle came over her lips. “The Fates have woven our lives very meticulously together, Demi. Zeus brings us the storms that ultimately bring our rain. Apollo lifts the moon into the skies each evening bringing balance to Helios whom fights him with the sun. Have you not seen what happens when they fight? The eclipse? I’ve seen the moon disappear from the skies. Only a God may do such an act.”
“I’m no Goddess, Demi.” She spoke again, her voice almost sad as she spoke this. Others had stated this fact to her many times before. But, if she were a Goddess why would she have been tossed down into Laconia as an infant? Why did she not truly have parents. Leonidas was her father, the only one she knew to call such a thing. Calliope took in a shaken breath and held her hand to her chest slightly. Her entire body was exhausted. “Thank you.” She spoke as she climbed into her bed. Calliope pulled the blankets around herself and within a few breaths she had slipped into the world of dream.
**
It was a dreamless sleep. When the smells of breakfast filled her nostrils Calliope’s eyes fluttered open. Only for her to be slammed with pain. Her head was splitting in two. She sat up slowly and held a hand to her head. It had to be the pangs of hunger. At least, she hoped. She’d never felt this weak even after healing 100 soldiers on the battlefield. No, this feeling was something she’d never felt before. Calliope stood, her legs felt rubbery as she walked into the next room. Her eyes fell upon her scarf that was mended. She blinked several times and stepped to it. The stitching. It was incredible.
Calliope lifted the scarf and looked over the area that was mended. She could hardly tell. Her eyes looked to the woman in the kitchen. “You...did this?” She questioned, a smile upon her lips. Her eyes fell upon the neatly folded pile of laundry a moment and she glanced around her spotless home. “This scarf...” She breathed as she rubbed it between her fingertips. It was the blanket she was wrapped in as a child. She was found in it. Her breath shuddered slightly as she held the fabric in her hands.
“I was found in this scarf...” She breathed. Not many knew the true story. Most only knew her as Leonidas’ daughter. No one truly knew she was found in a field during some of the darkest times in Laconia’s history. “When I was an infant, my mother...left me...to die...she wrapped me in this and left me in the fields, not far from Sparta.” She ran her thumb along the soft material.
“I’ve kept it since I was a child...in hopes to find my true parents one day.” Calliope spoke as she carefully moved it and wrapped it about her hips. It fit her perfectly as if it was tailored to her. It added a beautiful splash of color to her. “A few months ago...in battle...” She grit her teeth slightly. She brushed her robes to the side, a long scar lined her thigh. “I nearly lost my life to a Persian. They rushed the camp at night. Much as they always do the cowards. His blade sliced deep within my thigh here.” She ran her finger along the line. “I was wearing my scarf.” She looked up to Demi a smile upon her lips then. “I’ve tried to fix it...but my hands do not wield the magic of weaving such as yours. Even our finest clothing smith could not fix it...” She let out a soft chuckle. “Thank you, Demi.” Calliope closed her eyes a moment then, she felt dizzy. She moved and sat down at the table. “That food, it smells delicious.” She whispered softly. Her body trembled just from walking from the bedroom to the kitchen. “I’m starving.” She let out a soft laugh. “We just returned from battle yesterday...I’ve not eaten much.” She blamed her weakness on her lack of nutrition, nothing more. It couldn’t be a sickness. Could it? Calliope was slightly pale as she sat at the table her forest eyes looked to Demi as she cooked.
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Post by Raven on Jan 24, 2019 10:39:01 GMT -5
Demi lifted her gaze when the woman entered the room. She had just finished putting the plates together and setting it on the table, along with a fresh cup of coffee. "Morning.." she turned her head to see Calliope holding the scarf in her hand. She listened to her tell her story, and then she raised a brow. "Ah..." she chuckled then. "Not magic, and they're called Tailors" she laughed then. "My uh... mother, she was one of the best in Sparta, at least many said so" she grinned then.
"You don't look so well, you know..." she raised a brow. How was she suddenly sick? Meanwhile Demi was completely healed. "How does your powers work?" she questioned as she sat down and took a bite of her breakfast. "Witch Doctors, shamans, so many claim to have the ability to heal. But you are the only one of them all to actually do so, and at first I was hesitant to search you out, but really" she paused a moment. "I mean, I knew of you, but it was a stranger in the forest who helped me that pointed me your way" she thought for a moment to take a sip of coffee...
"You are the daughter of Leonidas... I am, well, I am marked" she tilted her head. "In an ideal world, I would swear my sword and shield to you, considering that you saved my life without a single question. I fear though my mark might cause issues? Well, either way. You tell me what you need from me, and I will accomplish it. I can stay, or I can go, but... I'd rather stay. My life means very little now, and" she took in a breath. She hadn't actually taken another bite of her food. She was reminded in that moment of her failures, and how the life she knew was gone forever. Now she had to just rebuild it from scratch? "Ahm.." she cleared her throat. "Perhaps I should go to the market and get you some teas, oranges and the like - make sure you don't get sick from exhaustion?" she questioned.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 25, 2019 7:04:40 GMT -5
Calliope gave a weak smile as she listened to Demi speak. She spoke of her mother and the woman tilted her head slightly. Though her smile fell away when Demi mentioned she didn’t look so well. “I don’t feel so well either...” She agreed as she lowered her eyes to the food that was set before her. She wasn’t hungry. No. That wasn’t why she was weak. She realized that as the smell of food wafted up from the plate before her. Calliope looked to Demi as she questioned about her powers. She shook her head. “I....don’t have powers.” She let out a soft chuckle. “Demi, I just know the art of healing, I know how herbs work, which ones to use and how....it isn’t magic...just as...you said your tailoring isn’t magic. It is an art.” She gave a small smile as she pushed her food around on her plate. Though, she’d made miracles happen. She’d pulled spartan soldiers back from the dead. Healed the impossible. It was magic, even if she didn’t accept it.
Calliope took a spoonful of her food and ate it slowly before she took a sip of her hot coffee. The hot liquid seemed to spread through her body as it washed down her throat. She listened to Demi once again as she spoke. “I may be the daughter of Leonidas, but that does not mean that I will shun you for that mark on your shoulder. You and I both know that you were very ill, that if it had been any other way you would have stopped the Persians.” Calliope took another sip of her coffee. “But it is not your sword and shield that I want.” She shook her head. “There are plenty of Spartans that offer such a thing. To me, war is something that should eventually end.” Calliope watched Demi a long moment. “Ares thrusts his hate upon us, he shoves us at each other to the point that innocent women and children are slain....raped.....taken for slaves....” She let out a long breath. “Even our own are guilty of slavery.”
She paused a moment and held a hand to her chest slightly. Her chest felt as though it had tightened significantly. It was an odd feeling. One that she wasn’t quite used to. “Perhaps a few teas would be much needed...” She closed her eyes a moment. Calliope released her spoon and stood slowly. She walked to her kitchen and pulled a piece of parchment. She leaned against the counter as she pulled a feather and ink from the cabinet. She thought for a moment, her eyes closed again. Her elbow pressed into the counter as she used it to hold her steady. She then opened her eyes and she began to write on the page. “I will give you the money for these goods.” She spoke softly. Her writing was shaky but it was legible as she wrote down several things. Reishi mushrooms, ginger, lemon balm, Ashwagandha. These she would combine with other herbs and powders that she had in her home to hopefully create a tonic. She set the paper on the table next to Demi. “I’ll get you coin.” She spoke, as if she hadn’t told her just a moment ago. Calliope moved to her bedroom, the world was threatening to spin again. Her head was pounding. Calliope leaned against the doorframe as she came back from her room, she’d nearly fallen. She stayed there a moment, getting her bearings once again before she walked forward with a leather pouch in her hands. “This should be plenty.” She spoke softly.
There was a swift knock from the door then. Calliope took in a breath, she stood and made her way to the door which she pulled open. Her eyes looked to one of the royal guards. “Calliope.” He spoke a gentle smile upon his lips. It was the guard that helped her carry Demi to her home. “You...look ill...” He drew his brows together. Calliope looked to him as a droplet of blood fell from her nose to the stone floor. Her body shuddered then and she suddenly collapsed forward. The guard wrapped his arms around her and hugged her to his chest. “Calliope?” He asked, his voice full of worry. He swiftly scooped her up into his arms and he carried her into the home. His eyes fell upon Demi, his brows tucked together. “You.” He spoke as he stood with Calliope in his arms, a cough came from her in her unconscious state as her head leaned against his shoulder. “What have you done? What witchcraft is this?” He raised a brow as he watched her closely.
Nicholas looked down to Calliope, his expression almost seemed angry. The guard lowered her carefully onto the couch. He pulled a blanket from the back of it and tucked it in around her. Calliope curled onto her side in her sleep, another cough came over her lips. He knelt down and brushed a bit of blood from her nose. “What illness did you bring upon Sparta?” He turned then, his brows narrowed at Demi. “Were you sent by the gods to punish us?” He pulled his dagger and pointed it at the woman. “Leonidas will not take lightly to someone whom has threatened his daughter’s life!” His voice was aggressive, his stance defensive.
Calliope took in a shaken breath, her eyes fluttered. “Nicholas...” She breathed. “No.”
Nicholas immediately lowered his dagger and sheathed it. He spun and bowed to a knee before the healer, his head hung forward. “Calliope....no?” He asked his brows furrowed. “This woman has made you ill with witchcraft.”
“No....Nicholas.” Calliope spoke, her voice pained. “No...she did not.” She took in a shaken breath. It felt as though each breath was being sucked in through a straw, she was fighting to breathe. The sickness that Demi had that had taken days to come on was hitting Calliope within hours. “Get....the goods, Demi....the Reishi...it will help...” She looked to Nicholas. “You will assist her in getting the herbs that I need.” She spoke softly.
Nicholas remained bowed before her, “Of course your majesty.” He spoke, “As you wish.” He stood and then turned to Demi. His eyes looked over her a moment before he lifted the parchment from the table. “I will show you to the market.” He gave a gentle nod.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 25, 2019 22:43:08 GMT -5
Demi turned as there was a knock on the door, she stepped back and watched as Calliope stumbled to the door. “Uh-” she gasped then as Calliope fell. “I uh - “ she went to help but the guard pushed her back with a rough forearm shove. Demi went to say something but had no words.
She stood in place - a wave of guild flooding her. This sickness that Calliope had - it was exactly like her own. Fast paced and brutal... She was surprised then as Calliope defended her... Demi cleared her throat and then held the leather bag of coins
“Okay...” she nodded her head. “Rest...” She turned then and looked to the Guard who lead her out the door.
She felt odd without her sword and shield, but this was not the time nor place, she didn’t need anymore attention drawn onto her. Demi was quiet for a few blocks and then her guard turned his gaze back to her. “Where do you come from? You do not wear Spartan armor...” He raised a brow then.
“I am a Mercenary...” She spoke and then cleared her throat. “My name is Demi” she looked to him, watching for his reaction as they made way.
“Hmph, well. You shouldn’t stay in Sparta long, you people have your place. You get your money and you go hm? It is clear that whatever you contracted in your travels has now infected the Princess....” He looked to her then with fierce eyes. “You will likely have to face Leonidas, even if you are innocent as she believes...You better hope she heals before then...” He paused as they came to the market square.
The square was a series of shops and stands layered on the streets, with people buzzing about to buy goods. Demi did not respond, she simply just pass by him and stood at one of the stands. “I can get the herbs, you should get the powders...” She spoke and then mingled past one of the stands and into a shop just behind.
She opened the door and it jingled happily. Inside was a huge collection of rare spices and dried goods, and then a wall of dried herbs. From behind the counter came an older woman, who smiled.
“Welcome... are you in search for anything specific?” She questioned, her voice was as fragile as her skin, which was pale and aging.
“Um... reishi, mushroom...ginger, lemon balm, and uh... Ashwagandha?” She lifted a brow then.
The woman sucked in a breath. “You have someone who is very ill...” she whispered and then tilted her head. “There’s only one in town I can think of even knowing the use of Ashwagandha...” She plucked a few things from the wall. “Is she okay? She would normally come herself... what has happened?”
“Uh....”
“Calliope” the woman grasped a few extra things, things she knew Calliope would need.
“She is...sick yes. I was very sick. It was... sudden and brutal, I received aid to cross the river and amazingly... Calliope was already there to save me. It was...” Demi struggled to find the word to describe the situation.
“A miracle? Maybe... it sounds like the gods were on your side” the woman put everything into a paper bag. “But not on hers...” She cleared her throat. “When did you get sick?” She questioned.
“I was on a a mission to the hold the pass from the Persians, and it was....” She thought for a moment “we received a delivery of supplies and I got sick right after...I suppose...”
“Did anyone else get sick?” The woman questioned as she wrote a few things down.
“No... no just me...” She thought for a long moment, she was almost frozen as she thought of it.
“Hmph...” The old woman looked up and then sighed softly. “Take me to her... I have known her a long time, she is a precious gem... I must help her if I can” she looked to Demi for a long moment.
“I will have to check with her guard.. your name?” Demi questioned.
“Ah, apologies. I am Frey.. go ahead, I will wait for you.” She nodded then. The old woman tucked a grey lock of hair behind her ear as she began to gather her things, to also shut down the shop.
Demi stepped outside to see Nicholas who was headed her way. “Do you know this woman that owns this shop?” She questioned.
“Frey? Ah yeah, we all know her. She’s pretty old, been around a while. Why?” He questioned. “Did she give you trouble?”
“No no, she is close to Calliope she says, and would like to see Calliope, that she can help tend to her...” Demi raised a brow.
“You shouldn’t have told anyone” he spoke with grit. “But... she would be best”
“I didn’t, she figured it out on her own... I...” She sighed deeply.
The woman came to the door and turned the sign to closed and locked it. “Oh, hello Nicholas... how is your brother?”
“Ah, Frey” he bowed his head. “He has been much better, thank you...Come, we should hurry, hm?” He held a hand out for Frey to grasp onto while they walked down the road.
They both had small talk - Demi walked behind them and eavesdropped. Something about his brother being sick, and a small tonic made by Frey cured him in just a few nights. Then some banter, nothing she could make sense of...
Soon they came back to the home. Frey stepped inside and made her way to Calliope. “Oh dear...” She whispered immediately. Frey moved a chair over and observed Calliope.. “you there sweet heart?” She questioned softly.
Demi stood behind Nicholas, in the door way. “Is she... okay?” Demi questioned.
Frey turned her gaze back to the two and then paused. “No... no she isn’t” she whispered.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 25, 2019 23:24:45 GMT -5
Calliope’s eyes fluttered open weakly to the sound of the old woman’s voice. Her breathing was nearly a wheeze she grit her teeth. “Frey...” She reached a shaken hand out to the old woman whom took her hand in hers.
Frey searched Calliope’s eyes. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and brushed a bit of her hair from her face. “Shhhh.” She pulled her pouch.
“What is it Frey?” Nicholas questioned as he looked to the pale skin of the princess.
Frey shook her head. “I’ve never seen such an illness.” She spoke as she stood and moved to the kitchen. The woman worked swiftly. She pulled the Rishi and mixed the herbs and powders together in a boiling pot of water. She tossed in a few things here and there.
**
“Zeus.” A woman’s voice spoke as she strode across the marble floors.
Zeus stood with his arms crossed, he was standing on his balcony overlooking the humans below. “Hera.” He turned his eyes to the beautiful woman.
“The Fates are angry.” She spoke as she came to stand at his side. Her fingertips curled around the stone balcony.
Zeus glanced to her, “What has happened?”
“A deal was struck with Thanatos to take the life of a goddess...Ares’ daughter that you threw away...of course the Fates have other things to say about that...and Hades wants the soul of the girl.” Hera spoke with a soft sigh.
Zeus took in a breath and shook his head. “If I would have known that this child was as gifted as she is, and that she would be born to hate war, I would not have thrown her away so quickly.” He crossed his arms. “What has happened?” He questioned then as he looked to his lover.
Hera let out a soft chuckle. “What hasn’t? She’s been poisoned by Hades himself so that Thanatos may deliver her soul to Hades. Believer it or not, this was all driven by Ares...he has no idea that girl is his daughter.” She sighed softly. “Why won’t you tell him, Zeus?”
He huffed slightly and shook his head. “So that he can corrupt her?” He threw a bolt of lightning toward the cities then. A storm surged and swirled through the skies.
“She deserves to know.” Hera spoke as she began to walk off. “Don’t make me be the one to tell her. A poison will not kill her, she’s not human, Zeus, but she will be weak until she gets the antidote from Hades.”
**
Calliope’s brows tucked together, her breathing quivered. Frey had managed to get her to drink the tea before she’d fully passed out. The old woman dabbed blood away from the princess’ nose. “We can’t lose her, Nicholas...” She spoke softly, worry in her voice. “She is our peace.” She brushed a bit of hair from Calliope’s face. “She is our miracle...our gift...they can’t take her away...”
There was a knock on the door then. Nicholas looked to Frey a moment before he turned and opened the door. He was pushed aside easily by a man clad in black armor. A hood was pulled up over his head casting shadows over his face. “Calliope.” He spoke a chuckle came over his lips.
Frey looked up from where she knelt, her eyes fearful. “Who....are you?” She questioned. Though she feared she knew the name.
The man chuckled deeply as he looked to her. “Thanatos.” He spoke as he looked back to the princess. “I am here to collect her soul, then I will be gone.” Lightning stuck outside then shaking the home.
Frey shook her head. “N-no please.” She didn’t move from in front of Calliope. “Please...” She begged. The city would fail without Calliope. The crops would die. The cattle would wither away. Things would revert back to how it had been before she’d been gifted to them...
“A deal’s a deal.” Thanatos chuckled deeply as he stepped forward and shoved the old woman out of the way. He knelt down. A darkness came from his hand as he touched Calliope’s cheek. Calliope began to choke, her body tensed and her back arched. Black lines began to race over her skin. “Yes.” He spoke and snickered. “That’s it, Hades wants your Soul, Goddess of Harmony.” More shadows began to come from his hand overwhelming Calliope.
Her eyes fluttered open and she gripped his hand tightly. Suddenly the shadows dissipated. She choked as she pushed herself up. His skin that she held onto charred to her touch. She was the light and he was the dark. She stumbled and grit her teeth as she stood there staring into his eyes. “No....” She breathed. A jolt of energy came from her body and she collapsed to her knees. Thanatos shuffled back slightly and pulled his giant scythe seemingly from the air. He then lifted it high and it began to lower downward in a swift motion.
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 26, 2019 0:00:48 GMT -5
Demi watched closely as Frey worked, she leaned against the wall outside of the room - her eyes closed as she thought deeply. How did this happen? How did Demi bring such illness to her, why was this happening? Once again the Gods were failing her... Her eyes opened then as she looked to the door... though an odd churning swelled within her.
She slowly reached forward and placed a hand on her sword, which she had sheathed onto her waist. The door opened and a great cold entered the room. She felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs, and everything was dry. Her eyes grew wide then as a terrifying figure entered the home. Death himself. She shifted forward - but a hand barred her. Nicholas held her back - his eyes glancing to her. He knew better - you cannot fight a God.
“No-” Demi pushed past him. She watched then as the Scythe was lifted into the air. Demi jumped forward and placed herself in front of Calliope. There was a huge clang sound - her sword was held upward, it parried and held the scythe in place.
There was a long deep chuckle that came from Thanatos. “Foolish mortal” he brought the Scythe back and swung it towards Demi. She swiftly rolled and then she reached outward - fingers grasping onto his cloak, she ripped him back and then slammed her boot into his chest, causing him to stumble back into the living room.
“Fiesty one” He regained his balance and then gripped his scythe. Demi rushed forward then and ducked with her movement - dodging a side swing of his scythe. She easily gripped part of his armor and swung around to his back and clasped an arm around his throat. The God, who's armor was bulky and heavy, shifted back and slammed Demi against the wall. He growled angrily and turned - he slammed a fist into her gut and watched as Demi sunk down to the floor. “I’ll take you too, just for fun” he lifted the scythe once more.
Demi looked up then and watched as the Scythe came downward. She grit her teeth and reached over - gripping a pot from the table near her. She threw it forward and it shattered in his face. Thanatos stumbled back once more. Demi stood then and pressed a leg against the wall and flung herself forward with strength. She stabbed her sword upward - sliding under his shoulder armor.
“Hah, no mortal can kill me” He kicked her back swiftly. Demi stumbled, her blade in her hand - no blood, no nothing. She grit her teeth and the scythe came swinging back for her again. She looked to it and a quick calculation ran through her head. She jumped into the air - but her sword was pointed downward. Easily she shifted hands, the sword slid up the hilt and then a flick of her wrist - the scythe was torn from his hand and it clattered to the ground.
Demi rushed over and lifted it with ease. It was perfectly balanced. The Scythe resized immediately for her height, and it was instantly weighted just for her. Demi gripped it and then lunged forward and swung it.
Thanatos was gone.
Demi stumbled as she landed. She eyes looking around... Then she looked to the weapon in her hands. The staff portion of it was a kind of black ivory, and the blade was curved with a few cut edges. From the metal a black hue came from it... It was beautiful, but deadly. Suddenly the blade portion somehow folded in and the staff shortened... Demi held what looked like just a small wooden pole now... “Did that... just happen?” She whispered, her eyes falling to Nicholas, Frey... then Calliope.
***
“Who is that woman?” Zeus suddenly stepped forward, an image floating in the air appeared - he and Hera watched the Thanatos, he watched Thanatos’ defeat.
“Hm... An ex-spartan... Demilan Crevanse....” Hera crossed her arms and raised a brow. “Seems like the Fates have their way, huh?” She grinned then.
Zeus pursed his lips “But now a moral carries a God’s Weapon...” He looked to her. “You wouldn’t want a mortal with my lightning, hm?” He questioned.
“Thanatos lost it fair and square... That is hers now...” Hera looked down “That’s the rules, right? If I were to some how disarm your lightning... it too would be mine...” She pursed her lips and then let out a sigh. “What should we do with this mortal?” she questioned.
“Demilan...” Zeus muttered and then thought for a moment. “We will do nothing, we will watch this unfold. She knows now that she is a Goddess, and now her protector wields a weapon from the Gods. Soon the war of the Gods will be over... the Prophecy, do you remember?”
“The one the Oracle spoke... so long ago?” Hera thought for a moment. “The Titans would sleep, and then a Thousand years of war would commence, it wouldn’t be the Gods to end it, either. No... When Mortals and Gods work together, then true peace will ring out across the lands...” She shook her head “We had dismissed that Oracle as being a lunatic...”
“We could not face the truth that a mortal could even fight a god, but... we see history here. Demilan... Calliope...” He chuckled. “It is almost entertaining..”
***
“Did you hear what...what he said?” Demi spoke. “She is the Goddess of Harmony?” She looked to Frey, then Nicholas.
Nicholas took in a deep breath. “We must get her to King Leonidas, Thanatos will surely not rest knowing he has not collected his soul, not to mention... you have his weapon... this...this is not good at all.”
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 26, 2019 11:11:18 GMT -5
Calliope couldn’t move. Shadows swirled around her and held her in place. Her breathing caught within her chest. Then suddenly, Demi stood before her and there was a loud clash as Demi blocked the attack from Thanatos. “No....” Calliope reached forward, her hand brushed against Demi’s leg, a white light emitted from her fingertips just before she collapsed forward, blood leaked from her nose and mouth. She coughed violently, blood splattered onto the tiled flooring. The sounds of Demi fighting against Thanatos echoed through the room. Calliope felt warm arms curl around her. She fought against the arms slightly. “No...” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She feared that Demi was to lose her life. Her eyes watched as Demi did the unthinkable, she stole Thanatos’ scythe. Her eyes fluttered as she leaned against the old woman whom held her up. She felt a damp cloth dabbed against her lips, brushing away the fresh crimson blood.
**
Thanatos knelt on both knees, his head bowed forward. The hood of the cloak was lowered to reveal his black hair that stood spiked on end. His skin was pale. “Hades.” His voice was soft.
“How could you fail me?” Hades snarled, his eyes glowed red with rage as he spoke. The man wore a black robe, he had a short well kept black beard and black hair upon his head. He threw his fist forward and flames shot from his hand swirling around Thanatos whom screamed in response. He allowed the flames to lick at his skin before he retreated his hand and snarled. “I’ll get her myself.” Hades snickered. “Won’t that be a riot? Zeus will have a fit.” He giggled then. “Ares wants the girl dead, then so be it. I’ll kill the goddess of harmony, and won’t it be a joyous day?” He grinned then as he leaned forward and pat Thanatos on the head like a dog. “Now go fetch Persephone.” He stared into a crystal ball, looking to Calliope as she lay unconscious within the arms of Frey. “This goddess will be easy to capture, if done correctly.” He grinned wickedly then.
**
“Nicholas.” Frey was fighting to hold Calliope’s weight.
Nicholas rushed forward and scooped the princess into his arms. Her head lulled and leaned against his shoulder. Small coughs came from her, blood still leaked from her nose. “She’s getting worse, Frey...” He muttered softly.
Frey looked to Demi then, a soft smile upon her lips. She’d heard what Thanatos said. She’d even seen the transfer of energy from Calliope to Demi during the fight. “Oh I heard him. The Goddess of Harmony, it all makes sense now...” Frey looked to the woman as she lay in Nicholas’ arms. “She’ll survive. Haven’t you heard of the prophet that was thrown away by the Gods? Years ago?” She looked to him. “It was in Calliope’s book that she’s carried with her since she was a child.” She glanced around. “Where is that old thing...?” She wondered out loud and then shrugged. “A goddess is to assist a human in ending the thousand year war. It will be by the hands of a human that Ares is brought to his knees, the power of the goddess will be given to that human and the gods will end their petty war that they bestow upon us.” Frey placed her hand on Demi’s shoulder. “You’ve much more of a future than you realize child.” A smile curved up her lips. “Come on, we need to speak to Leonidas....” She glanced to Calliope. “I can only prey that she truly will be strong enough to survive this.”
Nicholas looked down to Calliope with worried eyes. He took in a deep breath as he nodded and carried her out into the sunlight. It was warm against his face as he stepped into the streets. Eyes fell upon the ground as they moved through the city. Worried Spartans stopped in their tracks as they gazed upon the sick princess. Blood dripped from her nose, slipping over her cheek and cascading to the cobblestone streets leaving a few drops here and there. Nicholas climbed the stairs toward the palace that Leonidas resided in. As they reached the top two guards opened the doors for them. Their eyes full of worry as they looked to Calliope.
As they entered the palace Nicholas marched to the throne room where Leonidas stood over a table with a map upon it. He looked up and his eyes grew wide. “Calliope...” He breathed as he rushed forward. He pulled her from Nicholas’ arms carefully. “What’s happened? Who did this to her?” He questioned quickly as he carried her over to the table. He held her with one arm as he pushed the maps back and lay her down on the cold wooden table.
“I believe the gods are fighting over her life.” Frey spoke, her wise eyes glanced over the princess. “Thanatos came to take her life.”
“What?!” Leonidas’ voice cracked as he looked to the woman. “Death himself?” He questioned quickly, his jaw slack. “Who stopped him?” He questioned.
“Demi.” Frey spoke and then held her hand up, stopping Leonidas from speaking. “Thanatos spoke of Calliope as the Goddess of Harmony, Leonidas.” She stared into his eyes. “We’ve much more than a gift of the gods on our hands....she is a goddess...”
Leonidas stopped. He looked back to his daughter and took in a deep breath. “When we found her...” He spoke after a long moment of silence. “We didn’t know where she’d come from...who she was...” He shook his head. “I wanted a child to raise, and it seemed fitting this child that miracles followed was to be my own.” He bit his lip slightly.
Frey gave a nod. “The prophets spoke of a god that would live among humans. A god that would end the war between the gods....” She searched his eyes. “Calliope is that god...”
Leonidas looked back to his daughter as she choked slightly on blood. He carefully lifted her and watched as blood leaked from her mouth. “What...happened to her?” He questioned with worry. “Why is she so ill...I saw her just yesterday....she was not ill...” He searched over her as the crimson blood stained into his own red scarf.
Leonidas stared to Demi a long moment, his eyes watching her closely. “Just who are you Demi? That you can fend off Thanatos from taking my daughter’s life?”
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Post by Raven on Jan 26, 2019 13:32:52 GMT -5
 Demi slipped the pole under her belt at her waist side, eventually she would have to make a make-shift holster of some sort. She wondered though the threats that would come to her for holding it. Thanatos had left though, he had not tried to retrieve his weapon. What did that mean? Was this hers? She bit her lip slightly and then her thoughts were interrupted. Her gaze shifted to Nicholas who lifted Calliope. Demi's eyes sunk slightly as she watched the Goddess's head lull to the side. She knew very well the pain this woman was going through, she wondered how she even survived it for as long as she did. Frey paused and looked to Demi, with a sort of wicked smile she tilted her head. "There is no such thing as coincidences, my dear. Not when the Gods are at play..." she nodded then. "Come on then" she lead Demi out side. They trailed the pathways, Demi kept her head down. Her shield was pressed against her back, sword on her hip... Her boots clicked on the cobblestone roads, and she breathed evenly. There was some kind of surging power in her chest, like holding the Scythe - it changed her almost. It was a sort of toxic feeling, like she might be sick - but wasn't going to. Anxiety maybe? She lifted her gaze then as they came upon a beautiful and large building, the Royal Keep. Though as they walked Demi had paid little mind to the decorative statues, and beautifully carved pillars... Her thoughts kept playing Frey's words - about the prophecy, about Calliope. So Demi was right, this woman was truly a god. There was no other answer despite it all - to completely cure her in just a night, it was unheard of. But why then, why was a God among the Humans? What were the Gods up to? This entire intervention was baffling - because for so long she had believed the Gods to be nonexistent, or perhaps against the humans. Her entire life was misery, but if she was apart of this scheme this whole time... was all of it intentional, how long had the Gods been manipulating her life? Her family murdered, a slave for years, a Spartan, then a betrayer. All of the events were exactly as so. She gained abilities - strengths, that only could have lead her to now, and this moment. Where she held a God's weapon, and followed a sick God - to stand before the King? This was all just the beginning of a tale she never could have thought of being apart of. What would she do? Would she fight? She had to... this was her Destiny... Demi looked up - the entire while her thoughts were rolling, Leonidas had been standing before her. Demi cleared her throat and bit her lip slightly. "I was once a Spartan Slave, I had stepped up to protect my village but failed in my efforts against the Persians. Some how... I caught a terrible sickness which resulted in my loss in the battle. I was guided to Calliope, who healed me... but some how she contracted the sickness herself... Then... Thanatos arrived. I was trained by Captain Kyver-" "Kyver" Leonidas tilted his head back. "He was a great warrior of mine, lead many great battles - retired long ago. If he trained you - then I am not surprised..." he looked to his daughter. "I have no doubt that she is truly a Goddess... I had my suspicions but I never question the gifts the Gods give us... Likely... She was planted her intentionally, and the Gods are trying to thwart each other, resulting in this sickness. I am sure... all of it was planned. You.. getting a terrible sickness and now..." she placed his hand upon Calliope's forehead. "Frey" he turned his head to her. "You do not need to hide the truth from me anymore, I've known for some time... Oracle" he paused and looked to her. "Tell us, tell us how we can help her..." Frey stepped forward and lowered her head. "Apologies, my King..." she whispered, simply just for with holding the truth from him. Frey placed a hand over Calliope's chest and a gentle glow came from her hand. Frey sucked in a breath suddenly and her head lulled back, eyes rolling to the back of her head. An Oracle - vision seekers... Leonidas watched quietly, it seemed to be a very long moment before Frey came back to. Frey stumbled backward and gasped loudly. Just the act of using her visionary powers had caused her body to turn slightly pale, her skin aging. This was natural. For each time they glimpsed into the future - it would shave a touch of life from their body. Older Oracles were often just skin and bones, wrinkled and barely holding together - just by the thin magical strains sifting through their blood. "This Sickness... is conjured by the Gods. There are select few that can cure it... Either the God who made it, or..." she paused and looked to the King. "The Titan - Gaia, Mother Earth... she could..." she sucked in a breath. "She wont die, no, but she will be very weak, maybe she'd want to die..." she looked to the Scythe on Demi's waist. "The only way she can truly die - is by the very Scythe of Thanatos" she paused. "It is the only thing that can truly kill a God, otherwise - most gods are locked away..." Frey stumbled slightly to a chair, weak from her magical spell. Demi pulled the pole from her waist and then her fingers rolled it slightly. Leonidas looked to her with a puzzled face. Then Demi thrust the poll slightly, with a simple flick of the wrist. Instantly the black ivory grew - a the blade seem to snap into place. The Scythe was completed in just a moment... the black glowing hue was strong in the steel of the blade. "I... disarmed Thanatos, and he left almost immediately. I..." she looked to Leonidas then and she lowered the weapon, which retracted to it's minor form, to store away once more. "I doubt a Titan would even give us a moments time, its that or try to convince the God..." "You wont convince a god that is trying to kill her, no you'd have to fight them for the antidote..." Frey muttered. "How you will do any of this? I have no idea, but... I can guarantee the gods are watching you closely. All you have to do is perhaps ask for their help..." Frey looked to Leonidas then...  |
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Post by Blindside Tex on Jan 27, 2019 17:19:45 GMT -5
“If you cannot provide death, Thanatos, then what god are you?” A deep voice boomed. Ares stepped into the room, his armor glinted in the dim light of the underworld.
Hades looked up and a chuckle escaped over his lips. “Ahhhh Ares.” He grinned. “Seems death just isn’t something that this Spartan will allow, hm?”
Ares crossed his arms over his chest as he looked to Thanatos whom still knelt upon the floor. “To be beaten by a mortal, to lose your scythe?” He scoffed and shook his head. “What sort of god are you, Thanatos?” His voice was mocking. “Perhaps I should have done this myself?” He turned, the cloak upon his back rippled with the movement. “Do not give the antidote to that girl, Hades, see to it that she suffers. She’s been fighting to end my war for years.”
Hades snickered then. He stepped forward and his arm snaked around Ares’ shoulders. “Want to know something, Ares?” He questioned as he pulled him over to the crystal. Calliope could be seen, still unconscious in Leonidas’ arms. “This girl.” Hades spoke. “She---....”
There was a crash of thunder as lightening flashed across the stony room. “Hades.” Zeus snapped, his eyes filled with blue light.
Hades jumped, he released Ares and took a few steps back, a giggle came over his lips. “Zeus, how wonderful for you to grace us in your presence.” He looked to him with a grin on his lips. “You’ve come to the slums from your wonderful mountain kingdom.” He giggled again.
“Hades. That is enough. This has gone too far.” Zeus growled out.
“Or has it not gone far enough, father?” Ares snapped back. “What’s the trouble in killing off a mortal? Hm? You’ve never cared before.”
Zeus took in a breath, his brows tightly pulled together. “Ares, she is no mortal.”
“That’s your little girl.” Hades pipped up, a giggle in his voice.
Zeus instantly threw a bolt at him, knocking him back and causing him to slam against the wall harshly. He grit his teeth as Hades staggered to his feet, still chuckling. He enjoyed creating chaos. Ares stood with a loose jaw, he stared to Zeus for a long moment. “That...is her?” He asked softly as he glanced back into the crystal. He shook his head and scoffed. “There is no way that is my daughter. Look at her. She despises war.” He motioned and walked forward. “I’ll kill her.” He growled as he walked from the room.
**
Leonidas took in a breath. “Gaia.” He spoke and nodded. “She will give you her time, Demi.” He looked down to his daughter in his arms. “Frey, can you heal her so that she can make the journey? Is that possible?” He questioned softly.
Frey gave a nod, “I can give it a try.” She spoke and bowed her head. “Come, bring her to my home.” She turned. They made their way from the palace and down into the city. They entered through the front of the market shop and climbed the rickety stairs into her home. “Place her there.” She pointed to a pallet upon the floor that was cell cushioned. She did a fair amount of healing. There was vials and herbs everywhere. Plants hung from the ceiling from upside-down pots. Books were laying about in a hap hazard sort of fashion. Frey stepped about and she began making a thick liquid, it was as thick as honey. She stirred in different herbs and she gave a nod for Leonidas to lift his daughter. Leonidas sat upon the floor and held her up, he hugged her against his chest. “Drink, Calliope.” Frey spoke as she tilted the glass jar and allowed the thick substance to slip into Calliope’s mouth.
Calliope gagged and choked. Her body fought against the substance. Her face contorted to the horrible taste. Though, Frey managed to get her to drink it. Most of it anyway. Leonidas gave a nod to Frey. “Thank you.” He spoke softly. He then looked to Demi. “You will watch over her, make sure that Thanatos does not come for her soul again.” He searched her eyes a moment before he lifted is daughter. Leonidas carried her back to her home where he tucked her into her bed. He paced slightly before he looked to Demi. “Make sure none of the gods come for her.” He searched her eyes. “I can’t lose my daughter. She may not be my blood, but she is mine. I raised her.” He glanced to his sleeping daughter then and let out a sigh.
Over the next three days Calliope didn’t wake. She’d cough and blood would leak from her mouth. Her body shuddered. Frey came several times, giving her healing serums. This one and that one. Though finally her eyes fluttered open. Calliope held her side. She took in small weak breaths. She grit her teeth as she sat up slowly. “Gods...” She breathed. She’d never been this ill before. Calliope pushed herself up slowly and staggered. “Hello?” She questioned softly, she had more strength than she had, but she was still weak. The sickness that Hades had developed for her, it was something unlike any other sickness that plagued the humans.
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