Zagreus speaks true, and yet — as when a burr catches on one's cloak as he walks through thick underbrush, so too do these words snag on the son of Peleus' thoughts. Love takes many shapes. There is the love a man holds for his companion, his brother-in-arms, and this Achilles bears for Patroclus as proudly as he bears his god-crafted armor and long-shadowed spear. Then there is a love that plunges deeper and binds tighter than anything he knows, and this he keeps in his heart — his and Patroclus'.
Some know; many guess; none speak.
"He is the dearest life I know," Achilles answers subtly.
So speaking, with a bundle of deer meat swinging from each great arm, he sets off toward the village. The subject is closed, these paths that branch off in number as many as leaves growing on a massive, ancient tree.
"It seems to me that you shall soon grow accustomed to the rain, as often as the clouds conspire to drown the earth, and the winds to whip all to frenzy. Some god or another must be displeased indeed."
no subject
Some know; many guess; none speak.
"He is the dearest life I know," Achilles answers subtly.
So speaking, with a bundle of deer meat swinging from each great arm, he sets off toward the village. The subject is closed, these paths that branch off in number as many as leaves growing on a massive, ancient tree.
"It seems to me that you shall soon grow accustomed to the rain, as often as the clouds conspire to drown the earth, and the winds to whip all to frenzy. Some god or another must be displeased indeed."