For @messageforyou

[refusetofight]

Achilles arrives at the Temple of Styx well before the appointed time. This is equal parts because it’s so difficult to judge time in the Underworld and because he’s determined not to be late to one of the most important meetings of his afterlife. … Or his life for that matter.

He approaches the edge of the Underworld—as close as he can before he begins to feel the insistent tug on his shade. By now, he’s discovered the exact stones that mark the border—unassuming at a glance, but should he step past, he knows he’ll feel the pull, like a strong ocean current willing him back to the depths.

So he stands just clear of this invisible delineation, hands clasped behind his back, and gazes past to what little he can glimpse of the surface. The slash of sun is too bright for his eyes, accustomed as they are to Ixion’s lesser light. The wind shifts, and he breathes in the pungent smell of growth, the distant tang of the Aegean Sea.

It brings to mind what Hermes said about Lyra’s birth: she was formed in the ocean. Was she tucked away in the midnight depths? Swaddled safe in a forest of kelp? Or floating free in the tides, pushed and pulled in meandering currents until she was finally washed upon the shore?

He wishes he could have been there to receive her that day—to lift her from the surf and sand, as small and precious as the beach’s scattered shells and wet, jewel-bright stones. Achilles entertains himself this way: imagining her early days, her first steps, her child’s adventures, her clever eyes examining each new thing the world offers.

Each shifting shadow, each rustle past the temple’s gate stirs a fresh flutter in his chest. It’s not long before his impatience and eagerness is fit to rival Hermes’. He periodically paces to the opposite side of the gate, as if it might provide a better vantage to spot her approach.

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[messageforyou]

Hermes had a good time with his little brother, and narrowly convinced Dionysus to not tag along (no, not even as a mouse, don't even try to hide in his bag). This is a meeting that ought to stay between Hermes, Achilles, and Lyra.

Hermes knows that if he thinks too hard about this, he'll psych himself out. So he doesn't give himself time to think. He appears at Achilles' side so quickly at the appointed time that it's almost like he teleported, but the flurry of his feathers and restless darting in the air betrays him.

"She's on her way," Hermes says, wringing his hands and trying to shake out the nervous energy.

Lyra, meanwhile, is dealing with the fallout of mysteriously appearing with a golden belt bearing the sigil of the god of the underworld and claiming she stole it from Elysium. Her family is split on whether she's telling the truth or not, but either way, everyone is convinced that she's really in it this time and someone powerful and angry will come kicking the door down. Despite her protests, her insistence that the whole point is that she doesn't draw Hades' attention, her foster mother dragged her to the temple to sacrifice their only goat on the altar of Hades and pray for forgiveness (either for her mischief, or for lying, whichever).

Her foster mother insists on a sincere prayer to Hades, and Lyra is sincere when she prays over their dead goat--specifically, she prays, I'll give the belt back if you want it, but would you please let me keep it long enough to make Theseus upset? I think you'd probably agree that he's a huge jerk and deserves it.

Her foster parents wrapped the belt and sandals in a blanket and buried them, like they were poisoned or something, and her foster father went looking around town to see if any rich men had passed by and were maybe missing a belt. But on the plus side, she successfully proved her point to her siblings. Her dumb big brother, still nursing a broken nose, avoids her for now. Some of the siblings are eager for stories, but others (the older, more cautious ones) scold her for boasting. If she was telling the truth, after all, then she'd better not push her luck by boasting lest the gods turn her into a snake.

But then she feels the tug of the roads. The roads always tug when she wants to go somewhere, and she knows the way even if she'd never been before. But they have never tugged when she didn't want them to.

She knows she's supposed to go back to the Temple of Styx. Hermes is probably the one calling, if it's the roads pulling her. So she slips away, wearing the same ragged hand-me-down tunic as yesterday, but now with the addition of goat blood smeared about the knees where she knelt at the temple. As audacious as Lyra already is, even she doesn't dare ignore a god's summons.

She's still barefoot and carries her bag of tricks as she approaches the temple. Her bag is tied at her shoulder, keeping it from banging on her knees like Achilles had showed her the day before. She feels the air of the Underworld breathing out of the ground before she sees the Temple, and the air doesn't feel angry. It feels like a welcome home.

But Lyra can't help but be skeptical of that welcome as the entrance comes into view, and she sees Achilles and Hermes talking. Patroclus seemed to be the one who cared the least about her invasion, so it's probably not a great sign that he's not with them. But Hermes and Achilles hadn't seemed to mean her any harm either, and if Hades was mad at her, surely he'd be the one summoning her and demanding the belt back?

Better safe than sorry. She waves cautiously at the Temple, her feet firmly on the grass of the surface. Both as a nod to the rule that she's not supposed to breach that boundary, and also just in case there's a problem.

"Am I in trouble?" she says by way of greeting. She's clearly the picture of manners.