( all at once, it feels as if the lightning streaking the sky has stricken her directly in the heart, so swift she staggers on her feet, then finds herself frozen where she stands, staring at the man who she now recognizes, without a doubt, as achilles, son of peleus and the nereid thetis — and, in her mind as well as most of the world, the greatest greek hero who ever lived. now, his presence stirs not just awe in her chest, but a deep, unyielding sorrow. for a moment, she feels as if she's just entered the field of battle as she had then to find burned and broken body of silena beauregard wearing her stolen armor.
gallant patroclus. fair-hearted silena.
treacherous tears sting the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them back, trying her best to laugh at how ridiculous this whole thing is. what is this, some sort of cruel joke to remind her of how she failed? how she'd let herself become so blinded by her own honor and pride that she in turn forged the same path as the hero who stands before her? she'd thought, naively, that she'd faced her grief and made peace with it. but as she stands in the shadow of achilles who wears the same haunted look on his face, she understands there is no peace. only the aching passage of time. )
You're Achilles. ( and it sounds almost strangled with emotion; she can hardly bear to speak his name, but not out of fear. under different circumstances, she might have been excited, thrilled to meet her hero. now she just feels hollow. but she stands a little taller nonetheless in an attempt to regain her composure. to meet him as a warrior and not some sad little girl crying for a lost love. ) My father is Ares, war-bringer, destroyer of men.
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gallant patroclus. fair-hearted silena.
treacherous tears sting the corners of her eyes, but she blinks them back, trying her best to laugh at how ridiculous this whole thing is. what is this, some sort of cruel joke to remind her of how she failed? how she'd let herself become so blinded by her own honor and pride that she in turn forged the same path as the hero who stands before her? she'd thought, naively, that she'd faced her grief and made peace with it. but as she stands in the shadow of achilles who wears the same haunted look on his face, she understands there is no peace. only the aching passage of time. )
You're Achilles. ( and it sounds almost strangled with emotion; she can hardly bear to speak his name, but not out of fear. under different circumstances, she might have been excited, thrilled to meet her hero. now she just feels hollow. but she stands a little taller nonetheless in an attempt to regain her composure. to meet him as a warrior and not some sad little girl crying for a lost love. ) My father is Ares, war-bringer, destroyer of men.