#i dont mean to sound insufferable and ancient | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pixelatedrose · 4 years

Note

Hey can you write prompt 38 "Who do you think i am?! A god?!!" "Yes." For prinxiety please but if you dont want to thats fine.

Prompt 38 Prinxiety

"Who do you think i am?! A god?!!" "Yes."

Word count: 5,763

Warnings: uncensored swearing, really bad decisions being made that heavily effect other people, forced change

To Be With You

What happens when an immortal falls in love with a mortal?

Well nothing good.

"Roman, you're staring at him again." Patton, god of the sky, weather and truth, said.

Roman, god of the sun, day and passion, sighed dreamily. "But have you ever seen him, Pat?" He sighed again from where he lay on a fluffy cloud, looking down at the world below. "He's got the most beautiful face, and his hair! And his eyes are just perfect!" He rolled over and kicked his legs in the air like a four year old child. "He's BEAUTIFUL!!!"

Logan, god of moon, night and knowledge, looked up from his ancient Celtic scroll. "You are really quite insufferable, Roman. I actually can't recall the last time you fell so sickeningly in love with a mortal. I'd forgotten how awful it was." He said in a monotone voice from where he sat in a chair.

Patton pouted. "Oh, Logan! Be nice!!" He walked over and ruffled a very distracted Roman's hair. "Roman's in love! Remember when you were in love?" Logan looked back at his scroll and coughed, a light shade of pink dusting his face.

Patton smirked, walking over to the taller god and leaning down to bring his face close to the other's. "I believe I remember something along the lines of 'The stars aligning themselves so that we could be together for the rest of time and eternity.' Does that ring any bells, hm, Lo-Lo?"

Logan put his scroll down on a nearby table. "The only thing I recall," he pulled Patton into his lap and smiled. "Is you crying uncontrollably, love."

Roman decided to move away from the couple that was now making out and to his room. He pulled out his gazing ball, an object all gods had, and gazed lovingly at the form of his mortal love gardening and pruning rose bushes. The view wasn’t quite as lovely as it was from atop the clouds, but it would have to do for now.

His mortal was truly gorgeous. His dark raven hair was tousled by the wind and looked fluffier than anything Roman had ever seen. His pale skin reminded him of the moon’s shining surface and he wished he could touch it with his own dark hands. His eyes were the most beautiful though. His Alexandria’s genesis turning his eyes the most extraordinary shade of purple ever. They were amazing. And Roman swore if he ever saw them up close, he would fall into them.

Roman let his head rest in his arms as he looked into the ball. “My love, if only you knew what you’d done to the heart of this god…”

~~•~~

“Roman! Are you in there?” Patton’s voice came from the other side of Roman’s door, waking the God up. He had apparently drifted off while his mortal had started working his job as a seamster. His spy glass had long gone dark with lack of attention and his room had gone dark without the light of the sun.

“Yeah, I’m here!” Roman called, putting his glass ball away. He opened the door to his room. “What’s up, Sky?”

Patton smiled. “Nothing much! It’s meal time though!”

Every day, around the same time, the gods would gather up the offerings the mortals made to them.

Roman nodded and went off to gather his portion of the offerings. While they ate, Roman talked about his mortal. More like ranted, but he could hardly tell the difference.

“My heavens, Roman!” Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “I honestly cannot wait until you inevitably outlive that puny human.”

Patton gave a little gasp. “Logan!! How could you say that?!”

“It is going to happen either way. I’m simply stating my opinion on it.” Logan sniffed. “And if it will shut Roman up, all the better, I say.”

Roman was suddenly thrust into the spiraling reality that he wouldn’t ever get to be with his mortal love.

He hardly noticed the ongoing argument between the God of the Sky and the God of the Moon as he got up from the table and left. He locked himself in his room and cried. He felt more like a child than a god. But it really did break his heart. He would never get to hold his love. He’d never get to run his fingers through that thick raven hair. He’d never get to touch his pale, fair skin. He’d never get to look into his beautiful, exquisite purple eyes.

And so Roman cried until an idea struck his mind.

~~•~~

Roman snuck around Patton’s room, and passed quietly by Logan’s study. He ran up the steps to the biggest part of the heavens and took a deep breath, swallowing his apprehension.

And Roman knocked on Life’s door.

Maybe this was a bad idea...Definitely a bad idea. I mean Life probably won’t even come to the door! He’s always so busy so-

The door swung open and Roman was face to face with the god of Life, love, and joy.

He smiled down at him. “Oh, hello Roman!”

Roman bowed down, very quickly regretting his decision to come to Life. “Greetings, Life. I’m very sorry I-”

“You can just call me Emile, Roman!” Life smiled, pulling Roman up out of his bow. “And don’t you tell me you’re sorry for bothering me! Whatever it is that’s bothering you, I’m here to help!”

Roman was once again reminded of how kind Emile was. “Right. Emile, I have...I have a request…”

Emile smiled, leading Roman inside. “A request? Oh I haven’t gotten a request since Patton begged me to make butterflies about...Oh it’s been at least 2,000 years now I guess.” He sat down on a white cushioned chair and gestured for Roman to sit too. “So tell me, dear Sun, what is your request?”

Roman shuffled his feet and sat down, his hands in his lap. “It’s sort of a big request, and I’m sure you’ll say no, but….” Roman looked down at his feet and considered lying. Patton would know if he did and then Logan would chastise him for bothering Emile with something so trivial. Roman met Emile’s shimmering eyes, solidifying his resolve. “I want you to make a new god.”

Emile looked a little shocked, his smile falling away for a moment. It returned, a hint of mischief glittering in his swirling eyes as he leaned forward on his knees. “A new god, Roman? Do you have a subject in mind, or are you just getting bored of your friends?”

Roman smiled suddenly, his chest flaring up with passion. “I do have someone in mind! He’s the most perfect person for the job, I’m sure of it! He’s kind and hardworking, and he has the most magnificent mind!”

Emile smiled and leaned back. “You’re in love with a mortal, aren’t you?”

Roman’s smile didn’t falter. “I am. And what a shame it is that the others will never know what it’s like to fall in love with imperfection!” He stood up. “I beg of you that you make my love immortal that he might live with me in the heavens!”

Emile started to laugh. It was a heavy and delighted one as he nearly fell off his chair shaking from it. “You, dear Sun,” He said, calming his voice, eyes alight with humor and color. “Are still so young!” Roman’s smile started to fade before Emile continued. “I will grant your request. I don’t usually do this, and Remy’s going to try and kill me over this, but for your love, I’ll do it. Though it will take a few days at least. Because it is your request, I will make you my assistant in creating this new god.” He leaned forward again, his ever changing and shining eyes glowing with splendor. “Now, what is the name of this mortal that has stolen your heart?”

“Virgil Aegir.”

~~•~~

Roman and Emile worked hard for four whole days, Roman insisting that he had to be perfect. In time, Virgil was ready to become a god. Emile kicked him out so that the actual name and life giving process could be done without risk of messing it up.

When Roman asked about what Emile meant by giving Virgil a name, Emile smiled. “It’s what he will rule over. Your names are Sun, Day and Passion. Patton’s names are Sky, Weather and Truth. Logan’s names are Moon, Night and Knowledge. Remy’s names are Death, Balance and Justice. My names are Life, Love and Joy. As such, Virgil will receive three names, three powers, three purposes. Now go, before you get yourself hurt.”

Roman sat outside the mansion’s steps, listening to the silence of the heavens as the sun began to sink out of sight, washing the Earth in oranges and reds.. There was a sudden explosion behind him and Roman shot upright and spun around.

Emile burst out of the large doors coughing, smoke spilling out into the open air. Roman ran up the steps to help the god of Life.

Logan and Patton ran up to the smoking mansion.

“Roman!! What did you do?!” Logan demanded, racing up the steps.

Emile coughed again and waved his hand at Logan, smiling. “Oh don’t worry, Logan! It wasn’t his fault! This just happens every time I finish creating something as big as a god!”

Logan’s eyes grew wide. “A god?!”

Patton ran up the stairs, his eyes shining. “We’re going to have a new god?!” He bubbled. “Oh this is wonderful, Lo-Lo!!”

“Not when it’s obviously Roman’s fault!!” Logan argued.

Emile smiled. “Oh, dear Moon, you’re as stubborn as ever! Yes, it was my Sun that came to me with the request, but it was my choice to create him.”

“The point is that Roman bothered you! He should have never made you do something so strenuous!!”

Patton pouted. “You did this last time I asked Emile to make something, and it turned out just fine, Logan! Stop pestering Roman!”

Emile laughed, drawing the attention of the other gods. “Oh you all are still so very young!!” Colors danced in the old god’s eyes like dandelion fluff dances in the wind. “You all have much to learn about the light of your world!!”

“H-hello…?” A timid voice sounded from the doorway.

All heads turned to the small figure.

Roman could have melted under the beauty he saw before him.

His pale skin was perfect and looked softer than silk, faint, white star shaped freckles dotted his arms and cheeks and his hair looked even fluffier, the tips fading into a deep purple that reminded Roman of secrets that had yet to be uncovered. He wore a long cloak that was purple on the outside and contained galaxies swirling on the inside. His deep purple shirt wrapped around him, sewn with silver thread. A silver belt hung around his waist and tight black pant disappeared into knee high purple and silver boots. His shirt’s long, loose purple sleeves were sheer from the shoulder down and long, flowing streams of sheer purple fabric tied themselves to his wrists and vanished behind his back, presumably held and hidden under his belt. And his eyes...His eyes lay unchanged, a beautiful, striking amethyst, so clear and deep they seemed nearly otherworldly.

He was the most magnificent person Roman had ever laid eyes on.

Roman walked up to him and held his perfect face in his hands. “My darling love, you’re here!” As Roman bent down with every intention to kiss the smaller figure, he pulled away, placing his hands firmly on Roman’s chest.

“Who the hell even are you?” He said, his perfect eyes flitting around anxiously. “Or where am I?!” The boy started to stumble backwards, panic clearly settling in. “What the fuck is going on here?!”

Emile gently moved Roman aside and grabbed the boy’s hands, pulling them up and smiling warmly. “My dear Star, you’ve been plucked up from the earth and been created more! Someone here loved you enough to set me upon the task of creating a new god out of you, that they might be with you!” Emile quietly took him down the steps and, with a flick of his hand, a new room popped up, this one covered in tiny stars and a glass roof. He took him over to it, the others following behind like a lost herd of sheep.

“You are the god of the Stars.” Emile said, gesturing up at the stars in the sky above them, just starting to blink into existence in the sun’s absence. He turned back to the boy and moved his pale hands to cover his perfect lips. “You are the god of Secrets.” Emile let the pale hands fall away from the star-freckled face. “And…” He threw his arms wide, his smile never faltering. “You are the god of Time!”

The boy’s eyes went wide in fear. He started to shake his head. “No, no, no no no!” He started slowly. “No, I’m not a god! I’m a seamster that lives in a small town!”

Emile lightly shook his head. “I’m sorry, dear Star, but your life before is over now.”

He ripped his hands from Emile’s light and kind grasp. “No!! Stop calling me that!! My name is Virgil Aegir and I am not a god!!” Virgil locked his hands in his hair.

Emile’s kind smile turned sad. “Your name is still Virgil, my dear. But what is done cannot be undone. You are a god. And in time, you’ll do wonderfully at your job.”

Virgil crouched down to the ground, trying to get away from everything. “No I don’t want to do this!! I never wanted to be a god!!”

Emile’s smile finally fell away. “If you must search for someone to blame, look toward the Sun. He requested that I bring you into the heavens so he might never know the pain of losing you.” Emile started walking back to his mansion, pausing and placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “I should have seen this coming. I’m sorry.”

As soon as Emile disappeared through his doors, Logan turned on Roman. “You absolute fool!!” He yelled. “You brainless excuse for a god!! Look at the mess you’ve made!!” He threw a hand in the direction of the paralyzed god silently panicking as tears dripped down his face.

“Logan, stop!!” Patton said, trying to pull the arm off of Roman’s shoulder. “He didn’t mean any harm!!”

Logan turned on the sky god. “Well he caused it!!” He shouted.

Roman’s anger was starting to flare. “You wouldn’t understand!! And you will never understand!!” He pointed angrily and Patton who had started backing away. “You don’t know what it’s like to be afraid that the one person you love more than yourself,” He jabbed a finger at Logan’s chest hard. “Will die knowing that you never will!!”

“It wasn’t your choice to make!!” Logan yelled.

“You would have done the same if Patton was mortal!!”

“But Patton isn’t mortal and will never be mortal!”

“But that’s not the point! I did it because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing him!!’

“The point is, Roman, that you made a mistake! And now someone is hurting because of it!!!”

“HEY!!!” The voice drew their attention to the puffy-eyed god of stars. “Was anyone going to show me how the hell to do this?!!” He shouted.

The two arguing gods stopped and looked over to Virgil. “I don’t care why I’m here anymore! All that matters is I’m here! And I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing or where I am even!”

Logan turned and walked away. “I have a task that requires my attention.” He said stiffly, Patton running after him.

“I guess it’s up to you to show me around then, Princey.” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

Roman nearly sputtered. “Princey?”

Virgil flushed slightly, hardening his eyes and looking away. “Your outfit reminds me of a prince’s, that’s all. Don’t read into it.”

Roman chuckled slightly. “I make no promises, my love.”

“Don’t call me that.” Virgil said. “I’m not your ‘love’, got it?”

“As you wish, my Star. Shall I show you the ropes of the heavens, so to speak?" Roman asked.

Virgil blew a piece of his hair up out of his face with his breath and rubbed at one of his eyes. "Sure." He finally said, uncrossing his arms and trying to force a smile. "I'm here now, aren't I? Might as well try and enjoy it."

~~•~~

“Emile!!” Emile heard his name booming from inside the place he called home.

Emile sighed, knowing who it would be. “That’s my name, Rem! Don’t wear it out!”

Remy materialized in Emile’s living room pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t got time for your cute nonsense, babe.” Emile turned away from the god of Death and focused his attention on making tea. “You made another god without talking to me about it first, didn’t you hun?” Despite the pet names, Remy’s voice was anything but sweet and sympathetic.

Emile smiled, focusing on the tea kettle. Sure, he could just make some tea materialize out of the air, but he liked the traditional ways. “I did make a god. It was about time we got a god to rule over time anyway!” Emile held up two different plants. “Mint or vanilla, sweets?”

Remy waved his hand. “Vanilla, love. And that’s totally not the point!! You took a human to make this god!” Emile turned around, expecting to see Remy pacing again. Though he hardly caught himself as the god of Death was hardly six inches away from his face, ever blind eyes brimming with fury. “Remember what happened last time you did that, Life?”

Emile recalled the memory very clearly. His smile was sad, just a ghost of what it had been before. “I do…”

The kettle behind Emile started whistling.

Remy reached past the god of Life and picked up the kettle. “So you know the mess you’ve made, huh?” He moved over to the counter and poured the boiling water into each of the ancient Chinese pottery cups that Logan had gifted Life one year.

Emile sighed. “Listen, I think it could be different this time!!” He crossed over to where Death had sat down with his cup of vanilla tea. He accepted the cup of peach lemon tea that Remy held out in his free hand and sat down across from Death. “Thanks, honey.” He took a sip before continuing. “Listen, I know I’ve messed up in the past, but I have a really good feeling about Virgil! And you know…” Emile crossed over to where Remy was and slid himself into his lap. “Everything worked out just fine last time, too.”

Remy sighed. “I guess it was okay in the end... but that doesn’t mean you should be doing it all the time, babe.”

Life planted a small kiss on Death’s cheek. “I know.”

~~•~~

Roman had been showing Virgil around the heavens.

“This is where the Sky sleeps!”

“Wait isn’t that just night?”

“No, the Night sleeps over there.”

“But isn’t it day when the night sleeps?”

“No, I’m the day and I sleep over there.”

“So when you sleep it’s night?”

“Sometimes. I tend to take little naps throughout the entirety of a day rather than sleep in one sitting like humans do.”

“But when you sleep it becomes night?”

“What does this have anything to do with where the sky sleeps?”

It was filled with questions upon questions upon questions. Some of them Roman didn’t know how to answer.

“What happens if you fall off the clouds?”

“I’m not...sure. No one’s ever fallen off the clouds before…”

“Does time flow differently up here?”

“I don’t believe so...But I could be wrong. I’ve never been a mortal after all.”

“How many gods are there?”

“I’m not actually sure. I know of at least six now, including you and me, but now that I think about it, there could be tens more…”

Roman showed him his favorite spots, watching the new god look around curiously. In fact, Virgil was so consumed by what was going on around him, he had forgotten what had even happened to him.

Roman looked up at the sky and smiled. “It’s time now, Virgil!”

Virgil looked over at the taller god. “What? Is something cool about to happen?”

Roman smiled. “I guess! It’s nearly dawn, which means you need to put the stars to rest, Vee!”

Virgil started to panic. “I can’t do that!! Who do you think I am?! A god??!”

Roman stared blankly at his love. “Yes.”

Virgil laughed demonically. “Oh shit!! Haha!! I am a god, aren’t I?!”

Roman stared at Virgil. “It’s alright, my darling! This is what you have been remade to do!”

Virgil looked at him with panic stricken eyes. “But I don’t know how to do it!!” Virgil had grown comfortable around Roman. There had been points during the night cycle where Virgil had to put his trust in the sun god. He was also coming to realize he quite liked the taller god, though he’d never admit such a thing. Virgil grabbed Roman by the shoulders and quietly lay his forehead against his chest. "I don't know what I'm doing…" He said, trying to calm down.

Roman considered bringing the smaller god in closer, but decided he'd made enough bad choices for one day. He held Virgil at arms length and bent down to meet his panicked purple gaze. "Listen, Virgil," He started, smiling a very soft and comforting smile. "I can try and help you as much as possible, but you can do it. I believe in you! There's a reason Emile agreed to make you into a god, little starling! You'll do wonderful!"

Virgil seemed to consider Roman's words for a moment before nodding. "Alright…" he said, a minor tremor in his voice. "Tell me what I should do." He turned away and faced the sky. "I'll put the stars away, or whatever."

Roman smiled, his eyes sparkling. It was something small that, in hindsight, might have made Virgil slip just slightly deeper in love with the god of the sun. "That's my starry knight!"

~~•~~

Virgil had managed to put the stars to rest with a bit of effort that night. He had decided to retire to his room after that and slept.

Months had passed now, and Logan was starting to ease up on both Roman and Virgil. He had been completely cold toward Virgil, nearly ignoring his presence entirely. Whenever Logan and Roman had to interact, it always turned into a shouting match, each much too prideful to fess up that they were wrong.

It had been taking a toll on Patton and after a few weeks forced the two opposite gods to sit down and work things out.

It was an entire day and night that they were gone trying to make amends and the mortals thought the world was ending when the moon fell over the sun, casting a shadow across the Earth.

Logan and Roman emerged from Patton’s house and smiled. Roman walking over to Patton to apologise for his behavior and Logan crossing over to Virgil.

"I'm very truly apologetic for my abhorrent behavior towards you. You, like Roman and Patton, are a god. And should be treated as such. There is little excuse for my actions and I beg your forgiveness."

Virgil backed up slightly, waving his hands and an awkward smile alighting upon his face. "Ah, no! It's all fine! I forgive you, Logan!"

Logan let himself out of his apologetic bow. “This is a very pleasant outcome, I believe!” Logan respectfully held out his hand to the smaller god and smiled. “I look forward to spending more time with you, Virgil!”

Virgil would have missed the way Roman smiled fondly at the small god of stars.

Roman had only fallen deeper in love with Virgil since he’d arrived. And he’d had a good amount of time to reflect on the mistakes he had made. He knew he had been wrong. He wished he could take it all back. Seeing how what he’d done effected Virgil, it made his chest burn with guilt. He never wanted anything like this to happen. All he had ever really wanted was to be with his love. Logan had argued that Roman would just move on and fall in love with another mortal again after Virgil had died, but Roman didn’t think so.

Sure it had happened in the past, but this time felt different. Roman hardly had known anything about Virgil before he went to Emile. Every other time Roman would have become obsessed with wanting to know more about him from afar.

But he didn’t want that. He hadn’t wanted that. He had wanted to know him up close. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to see him. He wanted to hear him. He wanted to laugh with him. He wanted to know all the edges and corners of his mind for himself. He wanted to know him.

And he knew he didn’t want to have Virgil all for himself. He had experienced ‘love’ like that before, and this was not that. He wanted to watch Virgil grow and be free. And in a few more months time, Roman would come to realize that he loved Virgil so much, that he would be willing to let go of the pretty god and never see him again if that was what he had wished.

~~•~~

It was a sunny and warm day as Virgil and Roman sat on the fluffy clouds, drinking in the sunlight. They had grown very used to each other- Roman having fallen deeper in love with the god of the stars, and Virgil finding himself on a deep and irreversible spiral of adoration for the god of the sun.

Virgil had also become very close with the other two gods, and had found himself lacking the desire to return home. There wasn’t any way for him to return home anyway, so why bother wanting to? He liked it here. Quite a lot too.

It was this fateful day that Virgil met the god of Death, Balance and Justice.

Roman opened his eyes at the sound of someone approaching, turning to find the god of Death making his way over to the pair of smaller gods.

He instantly stood up in respect. “Death! What brings you this way? Is there anything we may assist you with?”

Death waved his hand at Roman. “Honey, please. You know you can call me Remy! And besides, I’m not here for you.”Remy turned to Virgil, who was still sitting comfortably on the cloud. “Get up, babe, I got something big to tell you about.” Remy’s blind eyes stared eerily at Virgil.

Virgil stood up and followed Remy as he started to walk away. It was strange. He felt like he should have been unsettled by the god of Death, but he wasn’t. There was a strange warmth about the tall god that made Virgil feel comfortable.

Roman walked with them as Remy began to talk, heading in the direction of Logan’s study. “Now I know that what happened to you was, like, totally unfair and shit, and I’ve been looking into a way to totally make it completely fair! Well, I had Emmy help too of course, I mean I kinda hate reading so why would I waste time doing that?” Remy entered the study where they found Emile sitting in a large chair reading an old book. “Anyway, hun, you can go ahead and take a seat wherever I guess and I can tell you the fab news!”

Virgil sat down, giving Roman a confused side glance. Roman shrugged his shoulders in response and sat down next to him.

Remy clapped his hands together, the bright smile on his face a contrast to his drab outfit. Roman was once again reminded of what a cheery fellow Death actually was. “Alright! So We-” Remy cut off, his dead gaze turning to Roman. “I’m not so sure you should be here, sunshine. Seeing as you were-”

Virgil placed a hand on Roman’s. “No. He stays.” His crystal eyes were solid and bright. Roman didn’t know exactly where his passion had come from, but it was clear that Virgil wasn’t going to bend on the subject.

Roman’s face lit up slightly when Virgil didn’t let go of his hand, instead opting to link their fingers together.

Remy shrugged and continued his animated talking. “As I was saying so fabulously!! With a bit of research and persistence, we found you a way home, mr. dark and stormy!!”

The world froze.

The air around them all felt so fragile, like it would shatter to pieces if any of them breathed.

Somewhere, a child was laughing at daisys spinning in the air.

Somewhere, someone was celebrating their wedding.

Somewhere, a grandmother and her best friend shared an old crinkling joke, whispy and light.

Somewhere, a father was singing their child to sleep.

And Virgil could hear it all as if he had been the people themselves.

Everything was so very very wide and quiet and frozen.

Virgil had a way home.

“W-what…?” Virgil finally managed to let the words escape his mouth.

Remy smiled, bouncing a little. “You get to go home, honey cakes!!”

Emile stood up and smiled softly. “It’s a little more complicated than that, but essentially yes. Me and Remy found you a way home.”

Roman’s heart was beating out of his chest. Or was it stuck stone still? He couldn’t tell…

Virgil hardly heard Remy and Emile listing off how it would work, how he would be able to go home.

“Can I…” Virgil cut in harshly. “Can I just get some space to think about this?”

Remy stopped his rambling as Emile smiled. “Yes of course, Star. We will leave you to your decision.”

Life and Death left the study hand in hand, and as Roman started to get up, Virgil’s grip on his hand tightened.

“Wait..” He said softly. “I want you to stay…”

Roman sat sat back down and tried to meet Virgil’s gaze, his own golden eyes laced with concern and worry.

Virgil had the chance to go home. He had ruined his life once already, Roman wasn’t about to let himself ruin it again.

“So how soon will you be leaving?” Roman asked softly.

Panic struck Virgil’s amethyst eyes like lightning. “What?!” He stood up fast, almost knocking the chair over, letting Roman’s hand fall away from his. “What makes you think that I’m leaving?!”

“You finally have the chance to go home! I can’t keep you from that again. I won’t let myself. Besides, you had an entire life down there!” Roman stood up from his chair.

“So what?! I have an entire life up here too! There’s Patton and Logan and- and you!! I don’t want to leave you…” Virgil stepped closer to the taller god, and hesitantly moved his hand toward Roman’s.

Roman, as oblivious as ever, continued. “Patton and Logan would be fine! They’ll probably be ecstatic for you when they find out that you’ll be able to go home!! They care about you too and want to see you happy!” Roman stepped away and started pacing.

“That’s not exactly what I meant, Roman. I could leave them and be fine eventually.” Virgil stepped closer again, catching Roman’s arms. He sighed and rested his head against the god of the Sun’s chest. He let his hands travel down his arms and quietly hold Roman’s dark hands. Virgil thought of his mundane life before. He thought of the way he would never get to be who he wanted to be as a human, how as a human he would be told that he should marry a girl and have children to help with the family business. He thought of how he had longed to be something more, do something more. He thought of how ever since he came to be a god, he’d been happier. How Roman had always been there to help him when he didn’t understand what to do. How Roman was always there. How he would laugh with him, and how his smile made his heart thunder in his chest, how he longed to never part from him. Virgil thought about how he loved to be a god with Roman by his side.

Virgil breathed out, his eyes watering slightly at the thought of having to leave him. “I don’t want to leave you, Roman…” He wrapped his arms around his waist and leaned in more. “I think I’m more scared of losing you than I am of going back…I know I told you time and time again that I didn’t want to be with you, but…”

Virgil looked up to meet Roman’s eyes, and found himself unable to speak. He could no longer find the words to express what he was feeling.

So instead he brought his hands to cradle Roman’s face, and silently he kissed him.

It was sweet and Virgil thought that Roman tasted like sunshine and sweet lemons and honey. It was wonderful and felt so very right and pure.

Roman’s hands wrapped around Virgil’s small waist and, as surprised as he had been at first, he kissed Virgil back. He nearly whined out loud when they finally parted, but he let it happen.

Virgil’s face was flushed as he quickly realized what he’d done. “I-I’m sorry, I really don’t know what I was thinking- Actually I don’t really think I was at all but-”

Roman quietly brushed his hand across Virgil’s cheek, bringing the smaller god’s rambling to rest. “Does this mean you’re staying…?” Roman smiled softly.

Virgil returned the smile, holding Roman’s hand against his cheek and melting into the warmth of his skin. “Yeah...I think it does, Princey…!”

Their lips met again and they melted into one another, paying no mind to the world around them, the only thing between them being their own beating hearts, alive with passion abound and secrets untold.

So what happens when an immortal falls in love with a mortal?

Well…

Ask the stars and he’ll tell you.

Holy heck so uh...I got really carried away with this one. So sorry it took so long to get out! And I know I added probably a lot more details than needed and it’s probably not as shippy as you’d like, but I really hope you enjoy it!!

#stripestar128128 #writing prompt ask #sanders sides #ts sides #prinxiety #gods au #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #remy sanders #emile sanders #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts remy #ts emile

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tuthillscopes-blog · 7 years

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Henry Greens Party Going: an eccentric portrait of the idle rich

check it out @ https://tuthillscopes.com/henry-greens-party-going-an-eccentric-portrait-of-the-idle-rich/

Henry Greens Party Going: an eccentric portrait of the idle rich

Amit Chaudhuri revisits a masterful tale of revellers stranded in a hotel, which recalls Joyce and Woolf but resembles neither

In the late 1980s, after i would be a graduate student in Oxford, I purchased a amount of three novels by a writer I hadnt heard about, Henry Eco-friendly. The Eco-friendly everyone was speaking about then had an e in the finish of his surname, and the name was Graham. He was almost a precise contemporary of Henrys: born in 1904, annually before Eco-friendly, he resided considerably longer. Both belonged to well-to-do families, but Eco-friendly was particularly affluent. His father was an industrialist. Id attempted studying Graham Greene, but had not made much headway. Then Henry Eco-friendly arrived, and Graham quickly grew to become, for me personally, another Greene, after which not really that. About Henry Eco-friendly, however, theres an irreducible, longstanding excitement one of the couple of who’ve read him.

I have to have purchased the 3-novel amount of Loving, Living, Party Going because John Updike had, in the summary of the amount, not just given Eco-friendly centrality like a precursor, but known as him a saint from the mundane. The religious example was excessive, what had helped me admire Updike to begin with was the means by which hed deliberately made room for that mundane, for that banality that fills our way of life and means they are truly interesting. But I discovered Eco-friendly to become a different of author, with almost no chroniclers impulse that every so often directed Updikes decade-lengthy projects, with no abiding curiosity about realism, despite his remarkable eye and ear and the gift for recording character. Replying to some question offer him by Terry Southern for that Paris Review in 1958 Youve described your novels as nonrepresentational. I question if youd mind defining that term? Eco-friendly stated:

Nonrepresentational was designed to represent an image that was not really a photograph, nor a painting on the photograph, nor, in dialogue, a tape recording. For example, the deaf, like me, hear probably the most astounding things over-all them that have not actually been stated. This enlivens my replies until, through mishearing, a brand new degree of communication is arrived at. My figures do not understand one another greater than people do in tangible existence, yet they are doing so under I. Thus, when writing, I represent very carefully things i see (and I am not seeing very well now) and just what I hear (that is little) however i express it is nonrepresentational since it is not always what others hear and see.

Eco-friendly actually stands approximately James Joyce, in the inclination to become intolerant of ordinary British syntax and punctuation, and Virginia Woolf, in the feeling of how narrative could be formed by things outdoors of event. But, out of the box obvious from his remarks to Southern, Eco-friendly further conflates his aesthetic with disability and eccentricity. (Right at the beginning of the job interview, he will not field an inconvenient question for the reason he cant hear the interviewer, although it rapidly becomes apparent the deafness is opportunistic.) Greater than Joyce and Woolf or other author I’m able to consider, Vegetables contribution towards the modern novel may be the imprimatur of the unapologetic eccentricity and, through it, a reconfiguring of the thought of singularity.

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Communicated joy and delight Henry Yorke AKA Henry Green

I have seen that Picador omnibus edition in the hands of readers and teachers, creased, carried with a degree of protectiveness. But, by all accounts, it didnt do well and soon went out of print. Since then, Greens nine novels have had spasmodic resurrections, come and gone and come back again. What will it take for Green to penetrate the general consciousness? His writing went out of view after he died in 1973 (and he hadnt written a book for 20 years before that), though more recently a handful of influential literary champions made him something of a cause. But maybe its to do with what Ezra Pound known as age. Most likely the recent decades havent been receptive to some novelist whose sole purpose appears to become to fashion a language that to speak pleasure. Woolf was shockingly neglected her present status owes less to literary critics regarding feminism. Jean Rhys was absolutely forgotten until her last work, Wide Sargasso Sea, permitted her to become annexed later by postcolonialists. Joyces mythic scaffold and verbal play identified him to academia to be essential both to modernism and also to the work of hermeneutics. I mention these authors not just due to their ability to transform and delight but additionally because some facet of their writing continues to be converted advantageously into some terms which are vital that you particular literary historic moments. With Eco-friendly, were given one type of artist who, such as the poets of ancient India and A holiday in greece, is not to provide us but delight. We dont get sound advice with your a author.

I hesitate to Party Going a modernist work because its sui generis, stands by itself, and it has not given itself to the modernism industry. However it has something that is similar to standard modernist texts, through which I am talking about not just what Frank Kermode known as its mythic structure, or its mythic punctuation of dead pigeons and bathing women, or its purgatorial fogbound atmosphere, or even the periodic abnormality of their syntax, but the truth that its thinking about and not the journey however the waiting, and not the event however the interruption. Dense fog working in london causes all trains to become cancelled. Traffic on the highway reaches a dead stop some people enroute towards the station need to abandon their cars and walk a minute of both liberation from, and lack of, class privilege. Among throngs of frustrated but jubilant commuters several wealthy people has convened they expect to go to the south of France as visitors from the qualified Max Adey. Two women especially are in search of Max: Julia Wray and Amabel. Max continues to be intending to escape Amabel, but she tracks him lower. Meanwhile, the entire group continues to be gone to live in the station hotel and given rooms with baths the shutters towards the station happen to be introduced lower. Amabel in some way finds her way inside, and Max reaches once ashamed, trapped, and temporarily disarmed by her immense beauty. It appears to Julia, whom Max have been courting inside a room not lengthy ago, that her putative romantic holiday with Max isn’t to become.

The simultaneity from the narrative causes it to be less just like a text supervised by an omniscient narrator than the usual particular type of cinema, a cinema less invested in one protagonist as with whats happening at the same time in a number of rooms and also the spaces around them. The fabric continues to be organised by an auteur akin, in the method, to some film editor, like a montage of quickly intercut scenes that produces a fantasy of unity and continuity. The restricted but unique locale and also the limited time period of the experience stimulate Jean Renoirs The Rules of the Game, which depicting several upper-class individuals with conflicting love interests who end up stranded with their servants inside a manor house on the country estate throughout the weekend too constitutes a narrative from nothing. Released, like Party Going, in 1939, the show isnt about either belonging somewhere or just being in exile it’s about inhabiting a transient, busy condition of unfinishedness. The aesthetic of these two works is remarkably congruent. Both also appear before the destruction from the worlds contained within them, and both possess a strange indestructibility. Renoirs film was trashed by the best and also the left because of its pointless portrayal from the inefficient wealthy, simply to be recognised in later decades like a landmark of cinema.

Self-absorbed upper classes Satyajit Sun rays Kanchenjungha.

Kanchenjungha (1962) by Renoirs most gifted student, Satyajit Ray is known as following the mountain peak the films upper-class holidaymakers are advised of because they mill round the hill station of Darjeeling. They’re completely self-absorbed, as the Kanchenjungha provides an opening right into a world beyond that will not present itself. Are you able to believe this area was only a Lepcha village prior to the British switched it into the town? states the insufferable patriarch Mister Indranath for the finish from the film. Empire! It had been insubstantial by 1962, such as the mist. Its becoming intangible in Party Going too, but not really much. Its there, within the global allusions, the truly amazing railways.

Sun rays film is instantly. The expertise of studying Party Going approximates this a feeling of getting joined, through the sentence, a particular continuum and time period. The 4 or 5 hrs it requires to complete the novel can also be the time where the fog rolls in after which begins to lift. The spell lifts too, so we understand weve joined a global we cant possess. This conflation from the figures time using the readers suggests the authors preoccupation with and mastery of form, that is a different type of reality towards the one the novel is depicting the result of his abstract nonrepresentational method.

Party Going isnt a singular within the usual feeling of the word. It provides us a superbly comic account of their figures, but it’s also an assemblage of moments, as well as different types of awareness around the globe as well as of writing. Eco-friendly is certainly not otherwise mindful of his literary context: when Julia walks towards the station and registers the procession of headlights at nighttime, the narrator points to the novels antecedents: These lights will come like ideas in darkness, inside a stream There are the epic similes, signalling to all of us that Eco-friendly resided currently once the British authors inheritance went beyond European modernism. Here the narrator describes a couple in Maxs party browsing the station to place their host:

Like two lilies inside a pond, romantically some of it but infinitely remote, encircled, supported, floating inside it for a moment, but forecasted when you are different onto another plane, even though there am much water you can avoid seeing these flowers or were prone to miss them, was Miss Crevy and her youthful man, apparently peaceful, envied for his or her clearly easy conditions and Angela coveted on her looks by all individuals water beetles if you want, by individuals people standing round.

Eco-friendly makes them vivid, semi-ironical comparisons frequently. Here, the simile concerns the station masters look at crowds of smokers, every third person smoking it could have the ability to looked to Mr Roberts, ensconced in the office away above, like November sun striking through mist rising off water. As Max and Amabel talk on the telephone before he heads off and away to the station (he’s laying to her about his intentions), her observation that here i am like a few old washerwomen slanging away at one another sounds more striking of computer should, as though Amabel were unwittingly situating the storyline inside a world good reputation for the epic. Two pages on, as Alex proceeds with the fog inside a taxi, it appears the [s]treets he experienced were wet as if that fog 20 feet up had deposited water, and glare which lights slapped within the roadways recommended to him he may well be a Zulu, within the Zulus hell of ice, sitting down in the taxi in negligence Umslopogaas together with his axe, skin beating within the hole in the temple …. And Robert Hignam, because he presses with the crowd within the station, remembers:

When small he’d found patches of bamboo in the parents garden also it was his romance in those days to pressure through them they increased so thick you can avoid seeing what temple might lie in ruins just beyond. It had been now, these physiques so thick they may have been an outlet of tailors dummies, water heated. These were so stiff they may as well happen to be soft, inflamed bamboos in groves only while he had once pressed with these, moist and warm.

The shutters are soon likely to come lower within the station, keeping new commuters out Maxs group will probably be at the same time nervously and luxuriously ensconced within the station hotel. Regardless of the feeling of enclosure and jail time (we’re simply inside a condition of siege you realize), the narrative has ramified and been placed on the planet: Party Going is both a comedy along with a cosmology. It is not about being hemmed in or trapped, or about being British. It enacts a fluidity of perception where it is also about being Zulu, about people being when compared with branches, to household servants inside a princes service, where Amabel is famous not just in London however in northern England and Hyderabad, in which the a large number of Smiths, a large number of Alberts, countless Marys seen collected below from the hotel window appear woven tight just like any office carpet or, more stylishly made, the holy Kaaba soon to create out for Mecca. Party Going is partially art-house movie, having a unique soundtrack, and partially certainly one of individuals remarkable British texts, like Basil Buntings Briggflatts, by which locality, eccentricity as well as class flow interior and exterior other cultures. Its this flow that’s envisaged here with regards to the noise, the murmurs, the silences, the laughter and also the courtships that occur as the trains have stopped, to ensure that any time things might open within an unlikely way.

A brand new edition of Henry Vegetables Party Going is printed by NYRB Classics.

Find out more: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2017/mar/18/henry-green-party-going-amit-chaudhuri

#Books #Culture

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