[003] And the walls kept tumbling down

[themuseabandonsyou]

Who: Orpheus (themuseabandonsyou)
What: January Catch-all
When: January
Where: Crenshaw, The Red, one of Trench's parks

Warnings: burns, discussion of organ theft, forced honesty effects, memory loss/loss of sense of self, disorientation, possibly more as marked in thread headers



I. Gray clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above ( cw: burns, discussion of organ theft ) ( closed to Eurydice )

Orpheus comes stumbling in the front door a little over an hour after he ran out. It had been abrupt and frantic when he went, snatching up one of his spare sets of guitar strings and wordlessly sprinting down the street towards a plume of smoke in the distance - whether Eurydice had been there to see him go, he'd been too distracted to tell, too focused on the problem at hand. But she's here, now, as he returns, smelling of burning cloth and worse.

One of his pant legs is seared off up to the knee, still smoldering slightly, and the exposed skin of his calf is - not looking good. He was still able to put weight on it long enough to get home, which is promising, but as he makes it through the threshhold he collapses sideways, leaning heavily against the wall and sliding down it awkwardly into a crumpled heap on the floor.

"I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it." He repeats it to himself quietly, over and over again. His shoulders shake as he puts his face in his hands, breathing hard between the pain and apparent distress.

II. But if you close your eyes ( cw: forced honesty effects, possible further warnings in thread headers ) ( OTA )

It's not the first time Orpheus has seen the gigantic gemstone octopus that decorates the Red's entrance - he spent a great deal of time there on his first day, even, trying to figure out how to find Eurydice, and even after that he passes by it regularly on his way to find work in Cellar Door. But there is a certain sense of awe that comes with actually walking through the betentacled doors, having been invited in. Something about it feels like a massive weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and he blinks in wide-eyed surprise at the luxury of the club that lies within. It's like nothing he's ever seen before, save for in photos, and he stands there for a long moment just taking it all in until someone jostles him out of the way.

II-A. Watching
Despite Orpheus being, well, himself, it actually doesn't occur to him to get on stage at first. He watches the other acts with enthusiastic attention, whistling and clapping for his friends and strangers alike, but whenever the call goes up for the next performer, he looks... torn. Fidgeting with the strap of the guitar on his back, he frowns, glancing around him, then back at the stage with almost an almost hungry look. He wants to go. He doesn't want to go. Even feeling more relaxed here than he has in days, all the ostentation around him, the high-class of the setting and his own feeling out of place in it combine into the sort of pressure to do well that he's rarely felt before. Usually all he does is play for friends, but this? Even if the audience is mostly other Sleepers, this feels different.
II-B. Playing
Sooner or later, though, someone convinces Orpheus to take the stage, to swallow his reservations and just go, and ultimately he's grateful for it. He strides up to the spotlight and slides his guitar around in front of him, taking a deep breath, and begins to play a lively, rousing song, the crackling glow of campfire-light cast all around him as he sings.

"It's only for need to pay the bills
That a man goes to work in the mine, in the mill
For what does he trade the sunshine?
For a couple of nickels and dimes
But up on top a man can breathe
When he's livin' it, livin' it up
With friends and family to meet his needs
Livin' it up on top
Won't make anyone a millionaire
We're livin' it, livin' it up
But what we have, we have to share

Give me a lyre and a campfire
And an open field at night
Give me the sky that you can't buy
Or sell at any price
And I'll give you a song for free
'Cause that's how life ought to be

So that's how I'm livin' it
Livin' it, livin' it up
Livin' it up on top"
II-C. Mingling
And when he comes back down, it's like all his worries have washed away. He practically bounds off the stage, face flushed and grinning, making a beeline for the first person he recognizes or maybe just whoever catches his eye.

"How was that?" he asks, earnest, eyes shining. "I've been - I couldn't fix things with my music before, so I was worried I was losing it, but that - it sounded all right, didn't it?"

There's a beat, then his brow furrows slightly, a look of confusion on his face. What did he just say?

III. Does it almost feel nothing's changed at all ( cw: memory loss/loss of sense of self, disorientation ) ( OTA )

The man standing out in the middle of one of Trench's few, scattered parks looks a lot like Orpheus. He's older, though - it's hard to tell how much, but clearly well past his 20s, and looking even older than he probably is for the stress lines on his face, speckled with old, faded little scars from stray sparks kicked up while welding. He seems exhausted, too, like every movement he's forcing himself not to just collapse on the spot. None of Orpheus's puppy-like exuberance shines through in this man, bundled against the cold like he's even less accustomed to it than usual in layers upon layers and just silently putting one foot in front of the other, except -

The sun starts to peek through the clouds, a lone shaft of sunlight falling on one of the trees, and he raises his head from where he'd been staring at the ground to look - and his eyes grow wide with childlike wonder. He doesn't move towards it. He doesn't dare breathe, for fear that any slight change could take this sight away from him. A tear runs down his face all the same. It's been so long.

Comments

iii

[eudaimonikos]

Michael's still in his female body. Whatever we've determined that ultimately means in a personal sense, it certainly hasn't affected his day-to-day routine at all. Mostly he just had to make up some new clothes, and he keeps getting hair in his face. If this lasts a little longer, he is going to cut it.

He's just walking over to the market when he sees Orpheus shuffling along in the park. That's weird. The guy's usually a little less...decrepit-looking. He's walking like people Michael's age ought to. Now, it's obvious that his body hasn't changed the way Michael's own has, but he definitely looks different - older? Maybe it comes in different flavors? Curious, he makes his way over.

"Hey." Now Orpheus is...standing there and crying at the sky, apparently. Michael looks up at the sky himself, frowning. Seems normal? He looks back at Orpheus. "You good, man?"

[themuseabandonsyou]

At that, Orpheus does turn, looking startled and guilty, like he's just been caught doing something he shouldn't, or more accurately not doing something he should. He should be working but - wait, where is work, again? He frowns, confused.

There aren't trees in the factory. There isn't sky, sunlight, clouds. This isn't the Underworld. Where is he, again? He tries to focus, working backwards. Right, he remembers, now, the initial panic of having been caught slacking wearing off.

"Oh, um," he says, wiping the tears from his face, that whole thought process having taken probably an uncomfortably long time that he spent in dead silence. "I just - I forgot what it looked like. Sunlight."

[eudaimonikos]

"....okay. That's really depressing."

Shit, maybe these aren't always purely physical changes. Michael's quite certain he's still the way he ought to be, mentally; he's discussed the shift with enough of his friends that he's sure someone would've pointed it out if he weren't. But knowing why this has probably happened doesn't mean he knows what to do. Really, there's probably nothing to be done but to wait it out.

Michael reaches out to lay a hand on Orpheus's shoulder, frowning as he looks him over again. He's shivering. For a second, he moves as if to take off his own coat, but he actually doesn't know that it's particularly warm; he doesn't worry about things like that when making his own clothes. "Here." He produces a heavy wool cloak out of nowhere. Easy to make, easy to just drape over someone. He wraps it around Orpheus's shoulders. "Why don't we take you..."

Wait. He has no idea where Orpheus lives.

"...somewhere...else?"

[themuseabandonsyou]

Orpheus just blinks at the stranger in confusion for a moment, though he does accept the cloak gratefully, pulling it tight around him. He's colder here than he's been in gods know how long - there's no reprieve from the sweltering heat just about anywhere in Hadestown - and every little bit helps.

"Okay?" he says, frowning a little but otherwise seeming entirely willing to follow this person he's, to his knowledge, just met wherever they lead him. It's fine! Apparently even years of hard labor couldn't crush Orpheus's trusting nature out of him. He does cast one last wistful look at the patch of sunlight falling on the trees, though, before turning his attention back to the stranger.

"Where are we going?" His assumption is they want him to do something, in exchange for the cloak, because for all he's aware that this place doesn't necessarily work like the Underworld it's a hard mindset to shake. He's fine with the idea, though, happy to repay the kindness.

iic

[entreats]

It's pretty hard for Ange to not catch anyone's eye, really. Whereas she usually would have been wearing something to make her blend into the crowd and draw as little attention as possible, there's something about this month that's driving her to just go for it for once and wear something nice - and the gift they have all received this month sure only further incentivized that.

So Ange decides to wear the dress she was given. Considering how big and golden it is, it's hard to overlook. But even if Orpheus hadn't ran over after his performance, she surely would have looked for him in the crowd. It would be awful if she didn't show her appreciation for such a great performance!

"Oh, Orpheus! Why are you even worried? Have you ever sounded less than amazing?"

Something that's very true in Ange's opinion, though she may be a little bit more vocal with the compliments than she'd usually be. She's even smiling a tad at him.

".. What do you mean though, fix things?"

[themuseabandonsyou]

Orpheus laughs, a little sheepish but glad for the compliment.

"Thanks," he says, and what he means to do is change the subject and tell Ange her dress looks great, but what comes out instead is, "It's just - I've started having these visions, of the future, and they're really hard to remember once they're over so I try to write them into songs to make things easier, and I had one about Fern and Varian, but I got it wrong and Fern died and Varian turned into a monster?"

He takes a breath.

"And I thought I could get him to calm down and maybe even change back, if I played for him, but that didn't work either, and even before that when I tried to fix the seasons with a song it only worked after Eurydice died, so I'm starting to worry that there's something wrong with me, or some kind of curse, where I can't actually do anything right if it's really important."

Well, he sure did rattle all of that off without meaning to! He blinks, looking a little stunned.

"Um, sorry. I know that was a lot."

[entreats]

"That is a lot."

Sorry, Orpheus. You're getting the honest answer, considering the circumstances all around them, the honesty that's hanging in the air. It's already out of Ange's mouth before she's really had time to think about it, but it doesn't seem like she's too bothered by having said that. Because she smiles, and she adds, just as genuine:

"But I don't mind. I want to listen to you."

Orpheus has been kind to her, after all, no matter when they spoke. So if he's having trouble, or if something is bothering him, Ange will gladly hear him out. Though.. "Perhaps we should sit for this." She motions over at the big cushion seats. It's better to sit down while having such a length and weighty talk, right?

Though, while they're heading over there, she does already ask: "So it seems that you are having trouble with your usual abilities, yet you've also found yourself with new ones?"

II-C

[subject_013]

"It sounded more than all right to me," a throaty male voice remarks, and if Orpheus should follow it, he'll find Wesker lounging among a nest of pillows, accompanied by a quietly intense and elegantly dressed red-headed lady, who likely has been visible about The Red. "You were magnificent. If there was any doubt regarding your gift, I'd say this performance should lay it to rest."

"Magnificent enough to get *him* dancing something that wasn't the Gloomy Two-Step," the red-head snarks, deadpan, tilting her head toward her male companion.

"I don't dance the Gloomy Two-Step unless I've had a couple of drinks and The Smiths are on," Wesker snarks back, smirking in genuine amusement. To Orpheus, he adds, "Don't mind my Blood donor, the lovely Saskia. She's as sharp-tongued as she is lovely."

[themuseabandonsyou]

"Oh, um, thank you! And, it's nice to meet you! I'm Orpheus," he says, offering Saskia his hand. He's a little confused about what blood donor means here, in this context, but figures it's probably not his business despite the urge to ask bubbling up to the surface. Maybe later.

"I've just been having a little bit of a hard time recently? With... doing things that I thought I should be able to do. I was kind of worried I was losing my touch."

And he tries to laugh it off, like he's over it now, but it doesn't sound all that convincing.

[subject_013]

Saskia takes his hand, pressing it warmly, but with respect. "Pleasure to meet you: he'd heard you might be performing and I had to see the musician he's been raving about."

"This place seems to play with our abilities: it weakened me, though I've found that regular infusions of Blood seem to help," Wesker notes. "Perhaps the Moon Presence looked on you with compassion and lifted whatever bond was on your voice. Whatever it is, rejoice in it and use it well. After last month when people were losing their heads and chasing each other for no good reason, we could all stand to have our Blood warmed in a better way."

iii

[expiera]

The listless stranger simply standing in the park on his lonesome may be easy to walk past, minding his business without being in anyone's way. But avoidable isn't synonymous to normal, and if his exhausted countenance didn't already make him appear worrisome, the sight of him awed and tearful at the dimly lit sky surely does it. Thus the bespectacled young woman clad in a black and unassuming winter coat doesn't hesitate in walking up to him, quiet but open concern on her face as she tentatively calls out to him.

"...Excuse me, mister? Are you okay?"

A rhetorical question, maybe. Clearly not from the sight of him, but at least asking first is only polite. He doesn't look hurt, at a glance, but... What happened to him...?

[themuseabandonsyou]

Orpheus snaps to an almost military attention when it becomes clear someone is talking to him, straightening his posture and trying to shake the look of exhaustion, scrubbing the tears from his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry," he says, quickly. "I'll-" get back to work, is what he starts to say, before remembering. This isn't the Underworld. There's - well, there's still work to be done here, because there's work to be done everywhere, but this woman probably isn't here to reprimand him for not doing it. It helps that she looks to be a pretty far cry from the Furies, with their watchful eyes and meticulous timetables.

He shakes his head. What did she actually ask him?

"I'm fine," he says, smiling. It's still tired, but it's genuine, and he glances back at the nearby trees, their branches laden with glittering snow. "Better than I've been in a long time, even."

[expiera]

...Geez, who is he trying to convince? Her, or himself? His earnest answer doesn't reassure her enough to chase away the faint frown at her brow, as much of a relief as it admittedly is to confirm that he's still aware of his surroundings and responsive to it.

"You don't have to apologize, but please forgive me for finding that hard to believe. Would you like to sit down? Have something warm to drink too, maybe?" She's suddenly feeling very lucky to have managed to trade for a thermos just yesterday, which she has been diligently filling with hot tea and carrying around in her messenger bag ever since.

It may be snowy in this park, but there are still plenty of public benches scattered about that are perfectly good to rest on. She'd rather take him indoors, ideally, but that may be too forward for someone you've just met, plus she's not too familiar with every district within the Trench herself just yet. She probably shouldn't get ahead of herself in any case, so she settles on scrutinizing his form once more for anything else notable to the naked eye. Is he dressed warm enough for the weather? Any dark bags under his eyes? Shaky or unsteady movement from any limbs? The Trench didn't seem that destitute from what she's seen of it so far, but from what she's heard, it also didn't hold back in giving anyone a reason to have a bad day. Hard to not worry more, with that in mind...

II-C comin' to mess with your heart

[droptheious]

Varian's finally out and about, only the slightest slivers of his corruption remaining, a tiny grey tinge to his skin. He's finally healing. He's looking pretty dapper and as much as he's keeping to the sidelines as he usually does, he is glad to be able to go out and be with people.

The memories of his time as a monster are pretty fuzzy, but he definitely remembers Orpheus - there's a sharp pinpoint in the mess of memories. He's...he's pretty sure he hurt his friend and guilt squirms in his stomach uncomfortably. Still, he smiles, trying to be encouraging.

"It was amazing as always, Orpheus," the rest of what his friend has to say does nothing to ease the heavy guilt in him. "You- if you mean what happened that wasn't...it did work, it was just-"

Complicated, and he's working with only partial memories. He hates this, he hates that he hurt someone who means so very much to him. He hugs his arms around himself a bit, resisting the urge to bail. Doing that on his pain is what got him where he was in the first place.

"I think I hurt you? I don't- I don't remember everything very well. Did I? Hurt you...I-I mean."

[themuseabandonsyou]

It's fine, is what Orpheus means to say, but what comes out of his mouth is, "You did. I'm, um, still having a little trouble walking."

True enough, he does seem to be favoring one of his legs a little bit - not full-on limping like before, but it's noticeable.

"I don't think you meant to?" he hurries to add, raising his hands in a placating gesture before Varian can say anything else. "You were, um. You were aiming for somebody else. For the people hurting you." Which doesn't feel a whole lot better in Orpheus's estimation, but he's trying. Frowning, he thinks for a moment before reaching out to put a hand on Varian's shoulder.

"I'm going to be okay. I'm just glad you're yourself again? And I'm sorry I couldn't - do more, for you, or Fern."

[droptheious]

Varian's endlessly glad that Orpheus did say that, because none of this entire experience was anywhere near fine. It was awful, and he hates that he let himself get this bad- that he actively hurt people he so deeply cares about.

"Oh...I'm sorry," despite the reassurance, he looks pretty dang crestfallen. "I - everything is really fuzzy but if I was in my right mind I'd never want to hurt you. You're...you're one of the best people I know here. You didn't deserve to get hurt. Did- have you been to Richie? He might be able to help with healing. Or Melius?"

He's desperately looking for something, anything that can help. He's definitely responsible for his friend's injury and he wants to try and help somehow. He shakes his head in small, gentle motions at Orpheus' last comment.

"No- you don't have to be sorry. Thank you for trying at all. It- it means a lot that you did."

II-C. Mingling

[possessum]

Despite a Darkblood Charisma Boost, Peter won't be found on stage performing, but he's all too happy to watch the other performers, cheering on friends and strangers alike. It's a rare sight to catch Peter Graham visibly having a good time, but there he is with a genuinely unfiltered grin as he watches from down below the stage, lacking the usual nervous edge of anxiety, that tendency to wear his nerves raw and exposed. Even so, he's not outright standing out the way some people are. His own clothing would be completely plain if it weren't for one half of the suit jacket being a sparkling gold. It's... not something he's completely thrilled about, but he'd put the thing on anyway. It could have been worse.

That grin of his is only spreading wider when Orpheus is finished and approaching him afterwards, and Peter's eyes brighten up as he takes in the other young man. It's been awhile since he'd seen him last — a month? Two? Peter's not altogether sure; he's lost so much time — but he greets Orpheus warmly, friendly as he draws closer to him.

"Hey, man! That was awesome, everyone was totally loving it. Your playing, singing— You're so good." The praise is sincere and Peter even looks a little bit starstruck; Orpheus is cool, okay.

But that odd beat of confusion makes the younger boy pause too, looking concerned for a moment. "Fix things... like with the plants growing?" He remembers Orpheus mentioning that once, how playing music could make them grow. A blessing from the gods, but one he'd been struggling with here. "Do you think it's back to normal now?"

[themuseabandonsyou]

"Oh! Peter! It's good to see you!" says Orpheus, beaming, and he laughs and blushes a little at the praise and the starstruck look on the other young man's face. If he had any idea that anyone thought he was cool he wouldn't have the first idea of what to do about it, but as it stands he's able to accept the compliment well enough, smiling away until Peter brings up what he'd accidentally let slip.

"No, um. That's still working, I think." The few potted plants he's brought inside for the winter back at his and Eurydice's house seem to be flourishing, so he's not too worried about that. "It's just - music is all I'm really good at, and I know I'm good at it, but it's never enough. I got the gods to reconcile back home, and they fixed the seasons, but I wasn't fast enough to save my wife, and I couldn't help Julia back in the dream, and I couldn't help Fern and Varian even though I Saw what was going to happen to them..."

He shakes his head. "It just doesn't work. And I'm not strong or smart enough to do anything else."

cw: slight / indirect suicidal ideation associations (AND THE CONVO JUST STARTED.....)

[possessum]

Usually, when people say it's good to see him, some awful little part of Peter insists that it's not true, because how could anyone actually think that? Even apart from what's so... wrong with him, he's just not.... really enough. He's always felt that way. Not interesting enough, not funny or enjoyable. But this month, that feeling has kind of melted away, and he genuinely believes that Orpheus is glad to see him. It makes him feel... warmed, and happy, and the smile remains on his face even as the other starts expressing his worries.

But it's softening into a neutral line as Orpheus continues, and then a frown as Peter's brow knits gently. The details of what the older boy is saying may be different, but the core of it...? Is exactly how Peter would describe himself on a normal day. He's surprised to hear it voiced in someone else, but mostly he's... sad. There's an empathy, and he reaches a hand up to give Orpheus's shoulder a comforting squeeze.

"Dude... I feel like I know how a lot of that feels. Like— I can't do anything. My girlfriend's this powerful witch and she's always having to take care of my creepy, weird stuff going on all the time. Other people have to help me through it, too. And every time I try to help, I feel like I just make things worse...?"

He shakes his head with a soft sigh. "Do you ever sometimes even think... other people would just be better off without you?"

That is...... a bit dark and pretty personal, and certainly not something Peter would ever outright ask someone on a normal day. But the effects of his place coax it right out of him — the thought he's nursed for... maybe the greater part of his life.

i

[howtheworldwas]

Eurydice didn't manage to see Orpheus grab his guitar strings, but she did hear the door slam before he sprinted off in the distance, but by then, it was too late. She tried to follow him, but he's so much faster than he is when he wants to be, and by the time he turned his first corner, he was as good as gone.

So Eurydice returned home, reluctant and anxious, barely willing to go inside. She's spent the better part of an hour pacing just behind their door. It's like the farm all over again. This place is dangerous; there are killers here, and dangerous magic, too. What if he doesn't come back? What if --

Eurydice goes into the kitchen to make some tea. The least she can do is keep warm.

It's then that she hears the door open, hears the thud of someone collapsing on the ground. She nearly drops her mug, and practically runs back towards the front of their home, nearly retches when she sees the leg. She drops to one knee, grabs his shoulders as if to steady him. But there's steel in her eyes, and a brittleness to her voice, when she says, "What happened? Where were you?"

[themuseabandonsyou]

Orpheus looks up at her, eyes wide and tear-filled between the pain and the stress of it all. There's a roll of cloth bandages and a bottle of some kind of ointment clutched in his hand - a hasty parting gift from one of the Hunters pursuing Varian, who'd dragged him off rather than let him continue to try to help his friend-turned-beast. He doesn't seem to notice, though, too distracted by his own problems to register what he's holding.

"I'm sorry," he gasps out. "I - Varian, the corruption got to him. He turned into a beast and the Hunters were going to kill him and I thought I could help, I thought I could bring him back, but I couldn't do it, everything just kept going wrong and I Saw this coming and I couldn't stop it."

He's half-babbling, frantic and still wired from the adrenaline that has yet to wear off fully. "I don't know what's going to happen to him - they were chasing him with spears and he was burning buildings and someone's going to get hurt."

[howtheworldwas]

Maybe Eurydice will feel bad about this later, and maybe she won't, but right now, she doesn't especially care about what happens to Varian. His corruption is his problem; right now, Eurydice's husband is bleeding out on their entryway floor.

She doesn't reply back at first, instead going for the bandages and the ointment. The blood doesn't turn her stomach -- she's seen injuries like this and worse before, on the road. The grim, focused expression she wears now belongs to that girl, the girl she was before Orpheus met her. Eurydice slathers on the salve, wraps up the leg, and sighs, like she's been holding her breath the entire time.

"Okay." It's not okay. "We need to get that elevated." She wraps one of Orpheus's arms around her shoulder, and begins to stand. "I'm going to help you up. Then it's over to the couch. Don't put any weight on that, got it?"

Once she's certain Orpheus has heard her, she'll slowly make their way to the living room, still focused on keeping him alive rather than what she feels about it.

II - C

[survivalthroughhate]

Maul wouldn't get up to perform if his life depended on it but watching others is enjoyable for him. He listens to the song Orpheus performs and it soothes something in the Zabrak. He peels himself off from the dark corner he's been hanging about and approaches the musician.

He's dressed in a sharp suit that perfectly compliments his red-and-black skin tone. "That was quite the song," he tells Orpheus. "I always enjoy listening to you sing."

[themuseabandonsyou]

"Thanks!" says Orpheus, brightly. Normally he tends to look a little on-edge around Maul, at least when they first start talking, before he gets too distracted to remember why he's nervous, but right now he's so caught up in the rush of having just performed on such a big stage that he's skipped right to the last part.

"I used to sing it for people back home, at the bar where I used to work. People always liked it back then, so I thought it would work here? I'm glad you liked it, too."

[survivalthroughhate]

"You posses a good talent for it," Maul says. "I would never be able to get up on-stage in front of so many and do such a thing." Maul's got a fair singing voice himself but no one has ever heard him sing in either Deerington or Trench except for two: Wesker and Cynthia when the two men had visited the latter's grave. He's too self-conscious to let anyone else hear him.

"Is that how you made your living back in your world? As a troubadour of some sort?" He asks.