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When summertime finally arrived, Eurydice became surrounded by a kind of warmth she had never felt in all her years.
Before, summer was just a period of relative peace, though every year it grew closer to being hellishly hot, and every year it grew shorter and shorter. She could roll up her coat and plan ahead more easily, now that people were reaping their harvest and food became just a little more accesible. It was all planning, of course, because even in these months where she faced no threat of freezing to death, the back of her mind always whispered, warned her of the approaching winter.
It was a time to stock up on whatever she could. She'd buy what she was able to, or otherwise sneak into fields and orchards. Even during summer, she couldn't trust one place enough to stay based only on what she could find in a couple days or weeks, especially with the changing seasons. It was better than winter, but she still couldn't be rid of its looming presence.
So she couldn't have imagined himself indulging in the warmth Persephone brought.
The people of that town in the middle of nowhere celebrated the newly arrived goddess with partying that lasted day and night. Her arrival meant prosperity; it was thanks to her that the harvest was as plentiful as it was. Everyone could enjoy the ripe fruits that fell from the trees, the fat grapes from the vine, the bottles of wine the Lady brought along. It was like nothing Eurydice had ever seen.
She still didn't know what compelled her to stay; the poet himself, or his promise of bringing her stability, as proven by the flower he sung into existence.
But this, this almost felt like stability to her.
She took a sip from her cup as she watched the people dance to the messy rhythm from one of the chairs that were tucked away between the tables. The wine left a pleasant bittersweet taste in her mouth. Despite not actually participating, she still found an amount of comfort from the sounds of the celebration, but maybe it was the alcohol talking.
Not long after, Orpheus returned to her with a glass bottle and three cups. The bottle was already two-thirds empty from what she could see, and he had that big, stupid smile of his when she glanced up at his face.
"I'm back," he said as he set his things down on the table next to her. The noise made his voice slightly difficult to hear, or again, maybe it was the alcohol, so she just nodded.
"Brought me something, poet?"
Eurydice sat up to give him a look, and he smiled a little wider.
"Lady Persephone gave me these," he answered her, and he kissed her head as he sat down on an empty chair tucked under the closest table in her makeshift barricade. Eurydice hummed. "For us to share."
"I didn't think you liked to drink," she said, and she took the bottle from his hand. She looked at it for a few seconds, not really reading the label but interested in how the light reflected off the dark glass, and then pouring the wine into their cups.
There wasn't that much left, so she didn't pour that much, but Orpheus still seemed to think it was too much. He waited until she was done to pass some of the liquid to her cup, however, and she raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment on it.
"I don't, usually. Or I don't do it often, at least," Orpheus replies. "But this feels like a special day."
Eurydice huffed. "Oh, really? What's so special?" She teased him as she sipped from her cup, and Orpheus took a sip too, and it took him some time to register her question. He looked down at his cup, as if he was debating whether he liked the taste or not.
"I don't know. You're here with me," he responded, and his voice was soft enough for her to almost not hear him again.
"I've been with you for more than two months, now," she muttered, though she couldn't help the small smile that appeared on her face.
"I know, but... Well, I don't know what it is. It feels special to have you here right now. I love you."
Even now, she was still surprised of how easily he could say it. He had no trouble expressing his love for her. He sung his heart out for her on the daily, made her feel things that, in all honesty, terrified her, and she knew by now that he meant it. Orpheus was not a player, yet he still played with her heart effortlessly, and Eurydice could only play along.
And right now, she was feeling it. She looked into his eyes, saw the honest, genuine devotion in his face, and her heart basked in it like a flower under sunlight. She still didn't want to let herself feel, didn't want to get close only for the wind to blow her off her feet, but he was slowly breaking through to her. Now she could definitely feel his warmth.
...Maybe it was the alcohol.
Eurydice looked at him. She didn't know what to say, so she didn't. She drank from her cup.
"Okay," she said after she put her cup down. "It's special, then."
Orpheus smiled and slid his hand across the table, gently taking hers, and she let him. He slowly drank from his own cup until it was empty. Eurydice finished her cup in a few big gulps too, and wiped her mouth with her hand. She then refilled both of them, and this time he didn't protest the equal amount of wine.
Eurydice started drinking from her cup almost immediately, downing half of it and placing it down again. She took Orpheus by surprise by hopping up to sit on the table, and after a moment, he moved to sit next to her again.
"This place is crazy," she commented bluntly, staring at the celebration. Of course, she did have a tendency to be direct, almost as much as him, but today she seemed to lack a filter even more than usual.
"How so?" He prompted.
Eurydice shrugged and took another sip. He did too.
"Everyone is so happy. It's like, contagious. I feel so weird."
"Are you sure you're not just drunk?" he teased her, and she turned to give him a glare. She definitely did look drunk by now. She had that look in her eyes, and her face had a soft blush to it.
"Maybe," she muttered when she turned away again.
He chuckled, drinking again. He didn't dislike this, he decided. The next minute or so was a comfortable silence. There were so many people dancing and yelling around them, so much noise, so many lights, it was making him feel dizzy. He felt as if he was dreaming, almost.
"You're the one making me feel like this," she suddenly accused him, and she likely didn't realize what that meant. "You're making me happy..."
Orpheus looked at her, and took her hand again. "I am?"
"Yes."
"That's a good thing?"
She shook her head with a groan, but she scooted closer to lean against his side, and Orpheus wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. Maybe he was starting to get drunk, too.
"...I'm glad. I hope you're happy," he whispered. He would love her even if she didn't, but hearing that from her made him feel like he was actually doing something. It made his heart beat just a little faster, and he kissed her head tenderly.
Eurydice, meanwhile, couldn't quite figure out her feelings. They were all a swirling mess of warmth and aching that she couldn't possibly name, and it was too abstract for her to picture clearly. She wasn't prepared to unpack them. She wanted them to go away. But... she was starting to believe that maybe things could turn out this time. The earth was prosperous, and when he was there, she felt the trecherous feeling of safety wrap around her like a blanket.
She still feared it was too risky, that every second she lingered here could make the wind catch up to her, but when he looked at her like that, she felt that maybe it would be okay to love him.
Maybe they could make it together.