askmenosecrets | Arcadian Forest Party

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Arcadian Forest Party

This was more work that he usually bothered to put in, Pan thought, especially here, at home, but everything was set.

At first glance, it appeared to be a forest clearing, beautiful and wild but nothing different than a hundred other clearings spread throughout the woods of the Arcadian mountains. But when you looked again, Pan thought, you saw something quite different. Hidden in the trees were a series of structures suspended in air, hung with ivy and dew, and through the mist-shrouded branches you could see the faint glow of light, and you could smell the scent of fire and food. There was the fire pit, a circle suspended in the arms of a large oak with a crackling golden fire, a roast, and bowls of marshmallows, chocolate and crackers waiting. There was the bar, stocked with a rich variety of wines and alcohols and staffed by two of the satyrs. And then there was the forest floor itself, bare now, but waiting for the dancing. On all sides of the floor, there were cushions on the low branches and benches of fallen logs, each accompanied with wooden buckets full of wine and beer bottles and glassed suspended with vine.

"Well," he said to Zaffre, currently wrapped around his neck, "I think we're ready." Pan flicked a leaf off his forest green turtleneck and looked around with approval before pausing. "We're almost ready," he corrected, and pulled his pan flute up to his lips.

The forest filled with music as he played, music that began as the mystical songs of the flute, but transformed as he let the instrument fall to his side - transformed into thrumming, sensual rhythms and intricate guitars that would encourage the party-goers to...well, Pan thought with a sharp grin, to be bad. Very bad.

"Let the games begin," Pan said.

[Notes: Everyone in fortuna_invicta is invited, the more the merrier in Pan's opinion. If anyone needs directions to the right section of the forest, let Pan know on the SWS post. Mingle! Get drunk! Stuff your face! Find a secluded tree and do naughty things! Pan approves highly of all these pursuits. Format = narrative third person, if you please!]

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Hyacinthe looked at him for a long moment, and his hand squeezed Apollo's arm gently before it went back to his beer, a gesture of mixed apology and a promise of affection unforgotten.

He drank in silence for a while, but eventually he had to speak, between running out of his rapidly imbibed beer, a need to make conversation and a need to prove to himself he could still speak easily to Apollo.

"How have you been?" He asked. A silly question, idle chatter. But it filled the silence.

Ah, it was to be this, then. At least for the moment. Very well. Apollo shrugged one shoulder, finally picking up his drink and taking a healthy sip.

"Well, for the most part. Enjoying the quiet." Which was so very true. He'd left Olympus behind with few regrets, the least of all the memories that still stirred during the deep watches of the night.

"Working, as well. Since Helios decided to disappear, I've been carrying on his duties as well as my own." Bitter irony, there. He'd neither wanted nor needed such a heavy responsibility, but now, after looking back over the rest of his relatives, belatedly realized he'd entrust it to no one else. ...damn the Fates, regardless.

"That seems like a tremendous burden to bear." Hyacinthe said. "Surely his replacement could have been a god without so many other aspects to oversee." He said, quietly. "So you would not be charged with such an important task. I hope he comes out of hiding, if some cruel fate has not befallen him."

Apollo snorted again, becoming more saturnine, if possible. He downed the rest of his whiskey and slid the glass back for another.

"Oh, he has. And quite frankly told me he wanted no part of it anymore." That conversation had gone rather well, considering. Apollo's power was a force with which to be reckoned, but even he wasn't foolish enough to clash wills with a Titan.

Besides, he did love his uncle, even if he'd like to drop kick him across a few hemispheres sometimes.

"I am sorry to hear that." Hyacinthe said. "He should be ashamed, neglecting his duties." He slid his glass across the bar as well. "Entirely unfair that you alone saw fit to take care of his mess." He shook his head. Everything was going a little fuzzy at the edges of his left eye and that was fine with him. He accepted another beer and drank deeply.

"I didn't," the deity admitted ruefully, leaning an elbow on the counter. "Father saw fit to saddle me with it just after Helios disappeared."

And that conversation had gone over splendidly, hadn't it? It was on record as one of the most titanic arguments that had ever taken place on Olympus. But it'd ended with Apollo biting back his rage and coldly removing both himself and everything else affiliated with his presence from the ancestral "home of the gods". And he'd not been back since.

Sighing, he shrugged again. "Helios has lost his ability to care, it seems. He's content to roam the world at will, doing whatever comes to him. He won't take the chariot again, not willingly."

"And I suppose your father cannot force him--" Hyacinthe bit back his words and hid behind his beer glass. "I am sorry, it is not my place to question the will of the gods."

That earned a sarcastic snort, but a grin followed. "Ohh, I'd love to be the proverbial fly on that wall, to see Zeus go up against Helios."

Unable to stifle his snicker, Apollo merely shook his head, reaching out to push the beer bottle aside and stroke a thumb across the mortal's cheek. "No, my dear one. I am resigned to my duties by now. We are as the Fates have decreed, and besides, there's no other I'd trust such a great responsibility to, not in my backwards family."

Hyacinthe allowed himself a smile at that.

"I couldn't more with that, I'm afraid." He chuckled. "Better that someone who takes genuine interest in their work take up that all-important task than one whose interest would only be token and probably dangerously fleeting." A blush blossomed under Apollo's hand and he looked down again "So I suppose all of us mortals owe you a tremendous favor, looking after the Light like that."

The god's fingers trailed beneath Hyacinthe's chin, gently urging him to lift his head. "Nay, belovèd," he entreated quietly, "be not disquiet. Look upon me with joy, as I would have thee do."

Another tender touch and Apollo lowered his hand. "You owe me nothing. 'tis my duty and my right as caretaker of the Light and Patron of the Sun."

Hyacinthe shivered when Apollo lifted his chin and spoke to him as he used to, the antiquated speech a comfort, bringing with it the memory of poetry exchanged as they lay near each other. As such, the shiver was not unpleasant and his smile grew only wider. The tension went out of his shoulders and his guard seemed to drop, just enough for the youth Apollo had once loved to become visible again.

"All the same, you are due at least heartfelt thanks, though so many will not even consider what a burden it is to keep them all alive."

If Hyacinthe wanted archaism, Apollo had no problems quoting by the hour. Mercurial as ever, he could launch into iambic pentameter or harmonic ballad at the twitch of the breeze, whichever tickled his fancy at that particular moment. Hyper activity? The golden deity was one of the co-founders, oh yes.

Nevertheless, he gazed upon Hyacinthe with ageless tenderness and unfading love, willing the spirit he'd known so every long ago to come once more into the blessed light to be warmed in the golden sun. He gently reached out, enfolded one of his hands in his own and curled it against his chest, directly over his heart.

"Then I will take what thou sees fit to offer me, my sweet one. For even the smallest favor from thy pure heart would be e'en greater than all the gold 'neath the soaring mountains."

Hyacinthe's pulse jumped to feel the god's heart beneath his hand and he took a step closer, returning his glass to the bar. His cheeks were brightly blushed now, with a mix of intoxication and emotion and when Apollo mentioned favors he couldn't help that his gaze drifted and lingered on Apollo's lips before he looked away and went back on his guard, just a little, composing himself.

He wanted to urge the other to release that defense, to be uninhibited and wild, as they had of old, but patience was a lesson which Apollo had unfortunately learned the hard way. And he had no desire to cause another discomfort at the expense of his own wants.

Still, this was his Hyacinthe. His Hyacinthe. Forever would he recall that horrible day when damnable Zephyrus expunged his festering jealousy. It was only the divine hand of Zeus which kept Apollo from dismantling the wind god in his blinding rage, and the breach between sun and wind had yet to heal.

Yet, to have his belovèd here, standing flushed before him, was a temptation almost to cruel to contemplate. Thus Apollo slid from the barstool, stepped forward and, carefully placing both hands against Hyacinthe's blushed cheeks, lowered his head and brushed a soft kiss against his lips, a bare breath of caress.

Hyacinthe made a sound, a half-stifled, half-mad laugh of relief and joy before he leaned up and pressed a more urgent kiss to the lips of the god.

"Beloved..." He whispered against Apollo's lips. In this moment, he didn't care that millennia had separated that, that they had both perhaps known others in that long time since Hyacinthe had died at his lover's feet, his last thoughts confusion and pain. If he received nothing more than a kiss, it would be enough.

A low groan stifled from Apollo's lips as Hyacinthe returned his hesitant affection and immediately strong arms encircled him, holding tight and wedging him between the god and the bar counter. The kiss returned was hard, fierce, but no less wanting than the million more given and bestowed eons ago.

To have this precious creature in his arms again was a blessing not even the deity had ever contemplated. Yet nor would he question it; for the Fates and their whims were ever a mystery. Finally lifting his head from such a torrid embrace, Apollo breathed against Hyacinthe's mouth, "...I have missed you for too long, lover...far too long..."

"I've missed you too." Hyacinthe murmured, curling his fingers against Apollo's sides. "So very, very much." He swallowed thickly and looked up at Apollo through the fringe of his lashes as his hands moved over Apollo's chest and arms. "To be in your arms again, to feel your warmth and your strength..." He could not find further words and he kissed the god again, trembling a little.

"Mmm...and you will never...want of it," was the fervent promise given between hastily pressed kisses. Apollo felt the boy shaking against him and resolutely clamped a strong resolve on his own racing desire, seeking to keep his wits about him, especially here.

Lifting his head, he sighed deeply and simply held his belovèd, pressing Hyacinthe's head against his shoulder and stroking his hair gently. "...oh, my love...shhh...it is well, for I am here with you again..."

"It's alright." Hyacinthe promised, though he nervously tried to shy away from Apollo's comforting hand upon his head, fearful the god's fingers might brush over the roughness of his scar. He kissed Apollo's throat. "I'm alright. I just..." He blushed and cast a glance at the saytrs who tended the bar he was pressed up against. "Not...here, though I'm sure Pan has no qualms about the bar being used for such distractions, the other guest might." He caught himself and chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I am being presumptuous..."

Apollo had to chuckle at the other's reticence. "My dear one, I do believe we could amuse ourselves the night long in this very spot and no one would give us a second glance, our host least of all." No, the god of pandemonium would probably cheer them on, Apollo thought with a smirk.

But nevertheless, he took a slow step back, reluctantly releasing his new-found love and resumed his former seat. The satyrs behind the counter knew far better than to remark or even glance in the deity's direction, least of all his young companion.

"Presumptuous?" Apollo echoed with a soft smile. "How so? If I may, Hyacinthe, know that I consider you quite reserved, given what I know of thee." And yes, that was a naughty twinkle sparkling deep within spring green eyes.

Hyacinthe smiled sheepishly.

"I have grown careful in our time apart." He said. "Wary of all things and subject to mortal standards." He took his own seat again, fidgeting with his glass. "Believe me, I long for the days when I could run naked in the fields and lay with you in the long grass without shame or fear."

"Come back with me," Apollo invited immediately. "To the island. It is far from Olympus and quite secluded. No one dares trespass there."

Again, he reached forth and captured one of Hyacinthe's hands, bringing it to his lips to press a gentle kiss on his knuckles, nuzzling into the boy's palm. "I wish to keep you for myself, for I am selfish, belovèd, and would be the only recipient of your sweet touch."

Hyacinthe's eyes widened and he almost pulled his hand from Apollo's, though the kisses made him ache terribly for his god.

"A-are you sure?" He asked. He feared Apollo's asking was motivated by obligation or guilt and he could not impose so selfishly upon the god he loved. But he wanted it so badly, to run away from everything and go back to living as if nothing had changed.

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Arcadian Forest Party

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