Chapter Text
A sudden gust of wind had blown a considerable amount of cold, harsh snow from the branches straight onto Eurydice's head, certain to melt into freezing cold water against her too old, thin and patched up trench coat.
Great, she thought, really just my luck.
Eurydice was a hungry young girl, a runaway from everywhere she'd ever been. She was no stranger to the world, no stranger to the wind. Still, it did not look like the best of signs to have ice thrown on your face to welcome you as soon as you step out of a train. The girl braced herself in a vail attempt to shelter against the cold and started walking towards the train station's porch. The train car remained practically the same: empty. And, with a single lonely blow from the driving car, the train came back to where it had come from.
Eurydice didn’t used to be particularly against the winter itself, as long as it lasted what was supposed to, as long as it followed the cycle and allowed her to set preparations and provisions, something that didn't happen in... A really long time. She could not recall when, exactly, the season had started, if you could call it that. The weather ain't the way it was before, ain't no spring or fall at all anymore. It's either blazing hot or freezing cold. At the moment, the runaway found herself stuck on the winterly limbo. It got cold and colder, long and longer, dark and darker each passing year. And so, the girl decided to run south, where there were still rumors of a better climate.
It was also not the case of Eurydice being able to claim enjoying summer, not when the summertime weeks had turned into a blazing never-ending inferno, ruthless sunlight burning your skin from inside out, drying the earth, turning the green into yellow, or that's how it was the last summer she remembered, when things started to change to never go back to how it used to be before.
Anyway the wind blows, it's known there ain't a thing that you can do when the weather takes a turn on you, except for hurry up and hit the road, looking for a merciful breeze.
And so, she simply went towards the furthest possible this trail track could allow her to. The furthest her savings would take her to in such severe times. After a certain while hopping from place to place, she could recognize the signs, the storms, the constant nature's warning signs telling her to run.
Looking around, it didn't look like a much big nor much populated place. A small town, probably, not many buildings or constructions, no fabric or office in sight. Just humble homes, poor cottages holding up against the winter and its infinite snow. Train tracks went beyond sight.
Eurydice grunted again. Small towns were not ideal, but this was not her final destination – not that she had one, anyway. Looking around again, she noticed a slightly bigger foundation, not far from the train station, now closed and abandoned. The orange-ish shining light against its walls coming from within indicated warmth, something her numb toes and fingers needed desperately.
The place was not full, to say the least, and it wasn't as in shambles as she'd think it would be, well, it was a humble, pleasant pub, actually, with one or two visibly drunk workers sitting down with their half empty mugs, although a flushed face could mean anything in this weather.
Her stomach growled. She was a hungry, young girl, after all. Finding an empty place to sit, the nearest possible seat from the warming, though shy fireplace the bar had lit, far from the door. Sliding her bag off of her shoulders, she reviewed her supplies, as if more provisions had been set there between the last time, she checked it. But no, it was still a nearly empty, far too light, worn-out bag with a change of clothes and a few coins. Eurydice snorted at it, cursing herself for hoping such absurd when the probability was that someone would steal her bag if they could get their hands in it on that train. Not that there was much to steal though.
Shit. She should not have gone so far with a ticket, even if it was the easiest way to run from the last storm, it had costed too much. Maybe this place had one or two spare rooms, or maybe they could point her to a cheaper place, but they wouldn't allow much more than that. With luck, if this bar was 24 hours open place, she could sleep right here in this stool and still have dinner, too. Food matters more than comfort, right? Although, despite the surprising quality of the tavern, it would be wishful thinking to hope a small-town bar to be open 24/7.
As her fingers kept numb from the freezing cold, even with these nearly useless open gloves, she decided to get her old candle, one she had no regrets to say she had stolen from a temple. Hey, the gods won't need candles as us, mere mortals do.
But she had no other matches; times were really getting harder and harder.
“Anybody got a match?” she asked the few presents.
A figure approached, an old man, the kind of sight that would normally leave her alert, though this one, specially, did not seem the trouble bringing kind. He's not drunk, that's a start. And he wore a wide smile with young eyes contrasting against his wrinkled black skin and short white curls, not to count he moved as if there were feathers on his feet, but, above all, the man was unexpectedly in a baby blue suit of extreme quality. Or, at least, more quality than she had seen in a while.
Along all that, she realized, he was offering her a match.
“Gimme that”, she said, cursing herself for forgetting there was no need to be harsh. Small town folks are never fans of foreigners, especially fugitives, she reminded herself.
“Aight, sister, what can we get to a young lady like yourself in this fine evening?” he said, politely, strong southern accent. He did not seem to be a waiter, too fancy for that. Maybe the owner?
“I, well, uh... I just came from the station across the street, so I don't- could I get the menu, please?”. Eurydice figured she ought to at least pretend to order something. Most establishments would kick out a non-costumer who decided to just hang around.
“Of course,”, the old man nodded, giving her a plasticized paper with a list of options. A growl loud enough for others to hear made her decide quickly, between a bed or a meal. The flesh has its ways. The runaway girl asked for the cheapest item, barely registering what it was.
Money would run out fast and the kind old man did not seem like somebody who would kick her out right after her meal, but it was a possibility. Most people were rarely what they seemed to be. People turn on you just like the wind, everybody is a fair-weather friend, she remembered, bitterly, trying to warm her hands once more. In the end, you're better off alone.
A strong blow of a gale that installed itself on the outside made her muscles contract once more and so she tried to control her breathing to avoid worse pains later on. Tried to ignore how much her body aches to lay it down, when you’re hungry and there ain’t enough to go round, ain’t no length to which a girl won’t go, any way the wind blows. If it were you on her shoes, maybe you’d agreed as well that there ain’t anything you wouldn’t do just to fill your belly full of food, find a bed that you could fall into, where the weather wouldn’t follow you...
Sudden and shortly alert, her thoughts were interrupted when her instinct indicated a pair of eyes following her every move. A quick search through the room and nobody was seen. She shrugged, maybe exhaustion is catching up to me, too...
As she counted on every single coin she possessed one more time, wishing that her hunger was the one responsible for maculating her basic math skills, Eurydice saw someone approach her table and this time, there it was: staring and blushing, a tall skinny boy, as young as herself, wearing a thick apron and holding a tray with what she assumed to be her order. She was about to lift an eyebrow, judging his apparition slightly weird, but, before she could thank him, he beat her to it, and awkwardly put her plate on the table where, beside it, a delicately paper made flower was laid.
Unsatisfied, the boy smiled and, suddenly, got onto his knees, blurting out the most unexpected set of words: “come home with me?”.
She blinked. Had she heard right? No, that- she must be hallucinating from starvation.
“Excuse me?”
“Come home with me?”, he repeated, unhesitatingly this time.
She didn’t blink again, just stared down at him. Well, not down since, even on his knees, their height gap was sufficient that their eyes were on the same level. His irises were hazelnut and his voice was nearly musical, had he spoke or sung? She couldn’t possibly tell the difference.
“Who are you?” Eurydice was not the kind to talk to others without a purpose, without sounding defensive, like before. Perhaps the shock had awakened her curiosity, perhaps she had deemed this unexpected stranger interesting, perhaps she was too hungry to care.
“I'm the man who’s gonna marry you”, he said, as if she had well asked what time it was or whether it had stopped snowing. He got up and sat down on a real chair, beside her. “I'm Orpheus”, he sang. Sang, not said. A lovely voice, by the way, still a singing one nevertheless.
She was dumbfounded. Noticing the dark skinned blue suited near them both, failing an attempt to not laugh at the scene. “Is he always like this?”, she asked him.
“... Yes”, he sighed.
Turning again to her supposed groom, as he offered her a newspaper made flower directly now. That made her smile, despite absurdity. And, despite herself, she said “I'm Eurydice”.
“Your name is like a melody…”, Orpheus responded, leaping from word to word, closed eyes as if he could taste her name in his mind.
“A singer?”, she asked, refusing to be embarrassed. “Is that what you are?”.
“I also play the lyre”, he said, rushed, and she laughed, only now biting her food, barely even registering what it was, just relieved to be absorbing nutrients.
Orpheus inclined closer, awaiting and answer. Too close for a stranger, too far to disrespect her personal space bubble – a thin, rare line. Strangers with this much interest didn't tend to taking long to get touchy.
In between bites, she gave an answer:
“Oh, a liar and a player too! I’ve met a lot of men like you”, though no one of them sounded as melodic and honest simultaneously, however, she didn’t add on that thought. Despite that thought, those seemingly innocent hazelnut eyes could be a simple disguise, for it was brand new to see candor or innocence in others, Orpheus had more chances in being a ‘liar and a player’, indeed. Even if the girl’s guts told her otherwise, she muffled the idea deep down.
“Oh, no… I’m not like that”, he said, not showing neither offense nor self-accusation, not even laughing, just looking worried that she’d think that.
Eurydice just nodded, eating. Somebody called and the singer left as duty called.
Logistically, the girl new she ought to eat slowly, to try and save both limited taste and heat that this establishment provided before she could find somewhere else to stay, but her hunger took over as soon as the entertainment distraction left rushing to other tables. And, when nobody came to throw her out with her empty plate, she stayed a little bit longer.
With her bag in her lap and shaking one of her legs, even with heavy eyes, Eurydice forced herself to take silent notes on the ambient surrounding her. I should rise and ask around for somebody who might have a place for me until-
But the sound of something being served broke her train of thought. The empty plate was being replaced by a full one, a decent meal and not a cheap snack. “Oh, no, I didn’t ask for this one, I’ll only pay for the-”.
“I know”, Orpheus interrupted her, gently, still smiling somehow. “I- it's just- you seemed hungry, so I bought this and- ah, they'll just discount it from my paycheck, anyway”. His hands held a nervous grip on the broom's stick.
She wanted to be proud and say she didn't want his pity. Her eyes thinned and she thought on it as another thing to add on how the boy was probably a liar and a player wearing a lovely innocence mask, indeed... As much as one might look at this and think it was an act of kindness, Eurydice wasn't this naive and had lost count on how many times she had men offer a meal or a drink with the mentality it entitled them to something. If kindness was doing good for no reason, she unknown such concept, for every favor comes with the demand of another favor, a different kind of payment, at most.
She wanted to sprout ‘I don't need your pity’ but that would be a lie, since her hunger still roamed around, making itself present. She was still weak. Still tired. And, before she had made up her mind on denying, Orpheus had run to another costumer.
The bar wasn’t very full on the moment, and the boy and Mr. Blue-Suit seem like the only one to work there.
“Excuse me, I didn’t make this order and-” Eurydice waved to the apparent owner.
“I know, I won’t charge. Not from you” he responded, with ease. “Orpheus insisted”. The old man seemed tired, even if he was not the one running here and there, table to table. Perhaps it was old age catching up to him, which was odd enough when you look down at his feet, where a blur almost gave him wings in his heels, besides, his costume seemed incomplete without a cane.
“Why?”, she had to hold back to not roll her eyes out her head, even if, a split of a second afterwards, a spoonful was filling her mouth, as if her body had decided to eat before her mind could weight on the price.
He shrugged and said, simply “he’s not like any man you’ve met”, smiling, as a suspect seer would do.
Although her skepticism remained uncrackable. Anyone who had this kind of interest was either an open prick or a disguised nice guy, the second case being the most dangerous and manipulating. Her brain told her Orpheus must be one of these, even when her heart inclined to opposing, even if his hazel orbs made the boy seem almost childish, free of malice...
As if a mind reader, the boy had returned, standing close the bar’s owner, awkwardly fidgeting. The old man stared at them both.
“I suppose Orpheus still hasn’t introduce me”, he said and, actually, Orpheus had not. “Girl, you can call me Hermes, and this humble establishment had been under my management for a few... Decades”, he said the word like an inside a joke with himself, “and his mama was a friend of mine, he’s a Muse’s son, and you know how these Muses are” she didn’t – not yet. “This poor boy, he wears his heart out on his sleeve... You might say he’s naive to the ways of the world, but he has a way with words and the rhythm and the rhymes and he sings just like a bird up on a line”, Hermes continued and Eurydice couldn’t tell whether it was just an old mand rambling about or if he was just someone filling up the silence, for the hazel pair moved rapidly between the runaway and the bar’s owner, and this girl did not feel apprehensive in this situation anymore. Must be the sleep. “Now, it ain’t cause I’m kind, but his momma was a friend of mine and I like hearing him sing and his way of seeing things, so I took him underneath my wing”.
Orpheus’s white features turned to beet red after his backstory was spilled out to a stranger and when silence returned and nobody said anything, Hermes held his hands on his back and tried to be the young couple’s bridge once more:
“Tell her what you’re working on”
The boy smile, his blushing fading slowly.
“I’m working on a song...”, he said, wetting his lips before continuing, a preparation for the excitement to come as he started singing the next part “it isn’t finished yet, but when it’s done and when I sing it”, his arms rose with emphasis, “spring will come again”.
“Come again?”. Eurydice must have been distracted by the sudden change on body language, from embarrassment to excitement.
“Spring will come”.
She snorted. “When? I haven’t seen a spring or fall since... I can’t recall”.
As soon as she was done speaking, he touched her arm, as if she had somehow proved the point he was trying to make.
“That’s what I’m working on!” an exclamation before singing his melodies. “A song to fix what’s wrong, take what’s broken and make it whole”. Eurydice noticed other costumers staring, but no requiem of shame was left in Orpheus now, even when the boy took her origami flower from her ear. “A song so beautiful it would bring the world back into tune... Back into time”, he bent his knee and gave her the flower again “when you become my wife”.
“Ooooohhh”, she laughed, with less sarcasm and more genuinely this time, but took the flower and pretend it had perfume to smell. “He’s crazy!”, she said, hands on her waist. “Why would I become his wife?”.
The old man named after a divinity gave a step ahead, a hand in his protégée and aligning the fake flower in the crook of the girl’s ear before replying what should have been a rhetorical question.
“Maybe ‘cause he’ll make you feel alive”.
“Alive? That’s worth a lot”, she murmured to herself. “What else you got?”.
She took the paper flower out of her ear, twisting its stem between her fingers. Still could feel more than a pair of eyes on her and, even if she could just turn around the register and go back to her seat near the fire, something in the idealistic waiter’s eye kept her around. Cleared her throat and chose to play, like a lazy cat unsure if it’s worth to commit to the pray.
“Lover, tell me if you can, but who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?”, she tried singing, her voice not coming out nearly as blessed as she had to admit Orpheus’ was. “Time being what they are, hard and getting harder all the time...”.
The puppy eyes from back when she had alleged his insanity disappeared within thin air, the stranger’s playful voice tone gave the compositor the chance he seeked, pulling onto her hand as if proving his argument.
“Lover, when I sing my song, all the rivers will sing along”, he started, “and they’re gonna break their banks for me to lay their gold around my feet! All a-flashing in the pan, all to fashion for your hand”. He didn’t know if he had her convinced, but Eurydice’s smile served as inspiration for now. “The rivers gonna give us the wedding bands”.
She laughed of his certainty, circling him in large steps, but keeping on indulging.
“Lover, tell me if you’re able: who’s gonna lay the wedding table? Time being what they are, dark and getting darker all the time”.
With barely giving any time between her verse, Orpheus started his with more enthusiasm than before:
“Lover, when I sing my song, all the trees gonna sing along, and bend their branches down to me to lay their fruit around my feet! The almond and the apple, and the sugar from the maple... The trees gonna lay the wedding table”.
If this was a competition, even with unorthodox ways, Eurydice knew to have lost, for even with such crazy responses, Orpheus had been able to lock her attention and she saw herself closer than before, trying to hide whatever has lifting her lips with the palm of her hand, the origami’s paper caressing her hand.
She sighed before her last verse.
“Lover, tell me when we’re wed, who’s gonna make the wedding bed? Times being what they are, hard and getting harder all the time”.
“Lover, when I sing my song, all the birds gonna sing along and they’ll come flying ‘round to me to lay their feathers at my feet and we’ll lie down in eiderdown,”, as he worked through his last chorus, Orpheus pulled Eurydice to a quick dance. She didn’t stop him. Felt light as a handful of petals when he inclined her backwards and held her. Being not taller than 5’ 4 and aware her weight had been minimum since food became scarce; she knew she was light. But it wasn’t about that. When he held her, she felt not weak, not thin, she just floated for a couple seconds and tried to hide her surprise on it. She wasn’t a good dancer. “A pillow ‘neath our heads... The birds gonna make the wedding bed”.
“And the trees gonna lay the wedding table?” she lifted one of her thick brown eyebrows.
“And the rivers gonna give us the wedding bands”, his body agreed in an inclining whisper.
“So, when you sing your song, the one you’re working on”, Eurydice quit with the rhythm attempts, not done playing just yet. “Spring will come again?”
“Yes” he came closer and, even though the boy was some solid 10 inches taller than her, this dreamer was way too near her now. She felt watching eyes carving in the back of her head and straightened her spine, taking a step behind.
“Why don’t you sing it then?” she asked.
“It isn’t finished-” he replied, reddening ears and sudden shyness again.
“Sing it” she pointed with her chin to the abandoned lyre in the front counter. When he didn’t move, she pretend to smell the flower and made part of her oversized coat to exhibit her shoulder. “You want to take me home? Sing the song”.
Truth was that with or without ulterior motives, Orpheus had entertained her and, as darker it got, surer she was her options for a place to be overnight were limited.
The boy then took his eyes away from Eurydice, towards Herms, as if asking permission. The old man nodded, a constant spectator of the interaction of the two. So, Orpheus walked until the counter, short steps in long legs, the wood creaking unevenly under his feet. When he held the lyre, she felt the air shift, the conversation’s buzzing diminishes, eyes facing to the flesh and blood of the expectative of the young man.
Until this moment, Eurydice had not a single doubt that this boy had wonderful musical skills, so she figured he must have a fame for it in this little town.
After a couple minutes fixing the instrument’s chords, hands slightly shaking with anticipation, as if the singing from before held less weight than the one now, as if this fair unacquaintance Orpheus was certain to have been hit with one of Eros’ arrows in the moment he saw her, would judge him for real.
She was sitting, waiting, significantly more relaxed than when she walked into the bar, however still bearing visible cold.
Orpheus wore his heart on his sleeve, as had said Mr. Hermes. He hated seeing others in pain and knew quite well the kind of merciless suffering any extreme weather could bring.
Sighed, commencing his notes the moment he took a breath in.
“La, la, la, la, la, la...”, he sang unspecific words, a simple soft singing, no lyric poetry picked out for such melody yet. He felt as if not one of his ciphers were fitting rightfully for this song yet. “La, la, la, la, la, la”, Eurydice saw him keep on, closing his eyes as the music took him to beyond the bar, the agility of his talented fingers, calloused tips well familiarized with each note.
And then, the unimaginable happened.
The boy’s song was like magic and Eurydice could swear she saw the world shine and warm up around the two, around the bar, despite the cold, despite the low lights against the new twilight of the year’s darkest time, despite her skepticism. Wind comes up, enfolding the couple, specially, and then the others present. No, not a cold winter wind, but a breeze. A spring breeze that made her think that’s what home would feel like if she had experienced one to know.
When Orpheus stopped, he opened his eyes, as if he had just landed his feet on the ground after floating, his hesitation returned.
Although she had never touched a single musical instrument, Eurydice shared the feeling. The insecurity of the boy returned strong as his hazelnut eyes stared down, asking her silently if she had approved. The girl, on the other hand, was dumbfounded, blinking.
Her surprise only increased when her attention came to her own hand, where, instead of a paper flower Orpheus had made, a ripened poppy lay on her palm. Not an origami made out of old newspapers, but a real flower, freshly picked, as red as blood, humid large petals. A small amount of pressure from her fingers and a sap rose in exuberance, proving how real and live was this poppy. A total impossibility for the middle of winter.
“How- How’d you do that?” she held the live flower to him, unsure of what to think, what to do.
“I don’t know”, he replied genuine, humble, as if agreeing with the absurdity, but didn’t worry enough with technicalities. She held herself onto that poppy, still waiting to be a trick, a farse. But it wasn’t. It was alive, and rare, and too delicate to be destroyed by a non-believer.
“The songs’ not finished though”, he said, the small lyre supported on its trunk by a handle. As if the sonority had any relevance in this apparent magic she had just witnessed.
“Even so, it can do this?”.
It was ridiculous, to her, thar Orpheus cultivated any insecurity over whether his songs were good or bad when they could turn paper into plants. She’d willingly listen to nails scratching a black board if it meant a functional weather. And the worse of it? It wasn’t the scenario at all. That had been the best melody she ever heard all life and, it actually did sound as if it could fix the whole world, even if just for a couple minutes. She wondered if this town had any temples to Apollo, god of the sun, music and poetry, and other stuff, when a dinner place’s waiter boy with a handmade lyre was able to make the world shine brighter as if it was as easy as breathing.
“I know”, he agreed, anxious.
“You have to finish it!” she exclaimed.
“I will, and I’ll play it in our wedding day”.
With that, she laughed again.
The melody he had played could make flowers bloom and rivers break their banks, but he was still a strange she met not even a couple hours back, and she knew herself too well to imagine marriage.
“A wedding? In this economy?” she played again. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”.
“Orpheus!”, a costumer called, asking for the waiter to fill some mugs, take some plates, and write some orders. Anyway, the clients were reducing numbers, diminishing like the sky lights, going home, one by one, and Eurydice had taken the forming emptiness to finally let herself warm up by the fireplace, thankful for not wasting her candle and wearing the ghost of a smile in her lips.