[007] Heard them calling in the distance

[themuseabandonsyou]

Who: Orpheus (themuseabandonsyou) and others
What: May catch-all, departure
When: Throughout May
Where: All over Trench

Warnings: Grief (loss of a loved one), body horror (pseudo-beast transformation), returning to the sea

I. So I packed my things and ran
( OTA )( cw: potential discussion of grief, loss of a loved one )
Orpheus has taken to spending a great deal of time at Serenity Garden, sitting in the shade of Airy's fruit trees with his guitar propped up next to him. He still doesn't play, but he looks less... acutely troubled than before, at least. The symptoms of corruption, or at least the visual ones, are entirely gone from him now, and with it some of the weight on his shoulders.

He still thinks about Eurydice often, of course, and of all the other people he's lost. Varian and Fern add to the count, and he falters slightly when they go. But today he's managing to smile, watching the returned sunlight filter down through the trees. He's upset. He's not doing well. But he has it in him to enjoy the day, for now, and that's got to be enough.

Tracing his fingertips over the petals of the reddest flower in the garden, he hums softly, too quiet for anyone else to hear, and the sunlight seems to shine just a little brighter where he stands.

II. Far away from all the troubles
( OTA )( cw: body horror (pseudo-beast transformation), potential discussion of grief )
One morning, when Orpheus wakes from troubled dreams, he finds himself transformed in his bed into a horrible bird. Again. Clattering awkwardly onto the floor in a whirl of too-many flailing limbs, he twists about in an attempt to examine himself, panicked as unfamiliar muscles answer his call. His memories of beasthood are vague at best, but this does seem to be the same form he took then, his hands tracing the lines of the antlered bird skull-like helm that now makes up his face, hard and bony and pointed, and down his long, arching neck. Glancing down at himself, he sees ashy, pale skin stretched sickly-tight over a human torso that fades at the waist into a gigantic bird's body.

And yet, despite all of this, his mind feels... oddly clear? Certainly he doesn't have any urge to fly out to sea and start singing a song that will lure people to him once he's there. He's entirely lucid, now that he's had a second to wake up. Pausing for a long moment to see if it isn't just a case of the instincts having to catch up to him, he concludes that he's... fine? As fine as he can be, under the circumstances. Not truly a beast, then, just confused and much larger and more unwieldy than he was when he fell asleep.

With some great effort, he shuffles on taloned feet not designed for walking to the door, cramming himself awkwardly through. It takes even more careful planning to maneuver the stairs, but then it's a straight shot down the hallway and out the front door, where he finds himself out on the streets of Crenshaw and realizes he hadn't thought of what he was planning on doing once he left the house. Should he... seek help? Go back inside? Hmm. He stands there, looking as puzzled as one with a rigid beak for a face can look, glancing back and forth between the heart of the city and the door to his house.

III. I had caused with my two hands
( Closed to existing CR* )( cw: potential discussion of grief, loss of a loved one, returning to the sea )
Shortly after that particular incident ends, Orpheus wakes from strange dreams again, this time with a sense of purpose and a lightness in his step. He hurries through his morning routine, washing himself and throwing on his clothes, before gathering up his most important belongings - including his lyre and his guitar - and setting out to the town. He makes a beeline for the homes and workplaces of his friends, darting from one to the next, and should he find them there he greets each one with a nervous mix of giddiness and... sorrow?

"Hello," he says, brightly, though his eyes shine with the very barest precursors of tears before he even starts. "Do you, um. Have a moment? I just Saw something important."

You can practically hear him pronounce the capital S in 'Saw'. This was a vision.

[ *OOC: If you've threaded with Orpheus even once before you qualify for this!! ]

IV. Alone we traveled on with nothing but a shadow
( OTA )( cw: potential discussion of grief, loss of a loved one, returning to the sea )
After a long, long several days of hunting down each and every one of his friends to speak to them about what he Saw, Orpheus finally stops at the shore, sitting on an abandoned and half-crumbling pier. He doesn't have his lyre or guitar with him - or his bag, or the jacket Julia gave him. He's dressed simply, the robe the Wakers gave him when he arrived wrapped around his shoulders for warmth in the chill of the evening. He seems... at peace, though. Calm. Clear-eyed. As he gazes out at the sunset over the water, he begins to sing, in a high, clear voice.

"Wait for me
I'm coming
Wait, I'm coming with you
Wait for me
I'm coming, too
I'm coming too"

V. We fled far away (Wildcard)
( OTA )
[ OOC: Need something else? Feel free to plot with me on Plurk at questionableveracity or Discord at quodVide#2951, or just pop in here with your own prompt. ]

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III.

[possessum]

It's been awhile since Peter's gotten to have one of Orpheus's guitar lessons. Truthfully, it's been a long time since he picked up his guitar at all. It's practically collecting dust in the corner of his room, tucked against the wall.

Things are strange (aren't they always?) Stranger, in ways. He's tired, in ways that aren't necessarily unfamiliar. Peter doesn't struggle against it, lets the days pass by quietly. Luna's working on a book — a catalogue on Beasthood, to try and help people here. Peter helps her with that, and with John Constantine's old shop on some afternoons, a task left to her and Willow in the man's absence. He was like a father to all of them. He's gone now. Fern and Varian too.

He hasn't seen Orpheus in a bit, but that's become a sort of comfortable routine, in a way. Weeks, even months may pass inbetween a lesson, but Peter knows they'll get around to it inbetween everything, and it's nice. When he sees him approaching, Peter perks up a little from where he's sitting out on the small step in front of the townhouse where he and Luna live.

"Hey," he says, standing, but his little smile pauses. Wavers. Something's wrong. Or— strange.

"Yeah, of course— do you wanna come in?" Peter gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, pointing to the door. "I can make us some coffee, or tea?"

[themuseabandonsyou]

This time the pause in their lessons has probably been more on Orpheus's shoulders than Peter's, what with... everything that's been happening with him since March. He hasn't really been in much of a state to do anything at all up until very recently, and now... well.

He smiles, looking more at ease than he's been in a long time despite the obvious tinge of melancholy.

"Oh, thank you," he says. "That would be nice. I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee, if you can spare it."

It's rarer here than it was in Deerington - a small luxury, in a place so cold and isolated - and he appreciates the offer, especially since it implies Peter has some time to spare for him. He has a lot of people to see in the coming days, but he wants to take his time with each of them. There's no real rush, yet.

[possessum]

"Of course — come on in, dude. I'll hook you up."

...Which is modern teenage speak for, he'll get a cup of coffee for you right away, Orpheus. Luna drinks tea anyway, and Peter is more than willing to sacrifice some of his coffee stash for a friend. It's mostly left over from back when he lived with Henry in Deerington, and some part of him can't help feeling like she'd be glad to know it's still getting some use.

Peter leads Orpheus into the townhouse — it's a cosy space, with its warm fireplace and witchy clutter. It's to the kitchen that he brings his friend, and he gets to work putting some coffee on. While that's going, Peter turns to look at him, still wearing that concern in his features.

"So you... saw something? Is everything okay?"

[themuseabandonsyou]

The decades of linguistic drift between them do trip Orpheus up a little bit, but he's used to spending significant chunks of conversations understanding very little, and here he can get the gist, at least. He follows after Peter, nodding hurriedly when asked whether things are okay.

"Oh! No, everything's fine," he says, holding up a hand. "It's just, um..."

Glancing out one of the windows briefly, he worries his lip. How does he want to say this?

"I had a vision of myself going back to the sea. And I think it's going to happen soon? So I just... wanted to say goodbye to some people, before then."

[possessum]

It doesn't take long for the coffee to start bubbling, a steady sound that's always weirdly nostalgic. Peter remembers his dad having his coffee every morning, how it'd make the kitchen smell good for a few hours after.

He's watching Orpheus with that concern, always so ready to tip towards assuming the worst whenever people have some kind of news or other. But what comes is...

"Oh." Peter says, softly, almost like a gasp. He's been here before, heard a friend tell him that it felt like the sea was calling him back. That the pull was becoming harder and harder to resist. That he knew this was going to be goodbye.

Peter knows how it works, but something in his chest stings with surprise, and his eyelids flutter for a moment. He's quiet, absorbing it slowly. Then—

"...Were you um, scared, in the vision? Or... happy?"

[themuseabandonsyou]

Orpheus thinks about the question for a moment, unsure of the answer himself. His visions tend towards being sort of vague at best, but...

"I was both," he says, finally. "It's - complicated? I don't want to leave everything behind, again." Not when a few months ago he'd just started to feel like Trench could be a real home for him and Eurydice, not when he'd finally made so many friends here. "But Eurydice's out there, and if I can find her again, and be with her, even if it's in a different form, then that's everything."

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't been hoping for exactly this from the moment she'd left. For once the Fates have been kind enough to grant him exactly what he wanted, and as much as it pains him to go he can't help but be grateful.

"I'll be ready, when it's time. But I don't have to go yet, so I wanted to talk to you and the others first. And thank you, for everything."

[possessum]

Peter's listening with all of his focus, brows knitted. As he waits for the coffee, he leans against the counter a bit, arms folded loosely over his chest. There's another little pang within his chest when Orpheus mentions his wife. And Peter gives a soft nod—

"I... understand. Maybe not fully, since it hasn't happened to me yet, but....."

His eyes fall to the floor for a moment as he thinks, reflects back on it.

"....back in Deerington, when the uh.. the dream was ending? And everyone started feeling either the pull to go through that Door, or to... not?" ...And vanish. The options seemed to be to move on, or to... disappear. To where, Peter still doesn't know. Maybe back home?

"I didn't know what was going to happen, but I just knew... I had to stay with Luna. She's my person."

They're not married, but... it's the concept of having that person. The one you have to stay with, no matter what happens. If she went back to the ocean tomorrow, Peter thinks that urge to follow her in would happen very soon, too. There are people you're connected to. People you're supposed to stay with.

"...I'm glad you'll be with her again. Eurydice." Peter blinks against the soft heat at the corners of his eyes, looks back up at his friend with a little smile. "You're the one I should be thanking. I'm gonna miss you."

[themuseabandonsyou]

Orpheus nods in understanding, another melancholy smile crossing his face as Peter describes his decision to stay with Luna.

"It's a precious thing, having someone who means so much to you, and knowing you mean just as much to them," he says. "But, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that? Just. Take care of her, and let her take care of you."

He places a delicate emphasis on that last part, knowing what he does about Peter and his struggles and knowing from his own experience that sometimes knowing when and how to let others look after you is harder than it should be.

"I'll miss you too," he says. "It's - I'm sorry it had to be like this. So soon. But you've been a great friend, through all of this, and if there's anything I can do for you before I go, I'd be happy to try."