Archive of Our Own ^beta

A lone ray of moonlight shone on the figure diligently working on his new experiment. It was Curtain-Fall Hour, when everything was quiet as people rested, when the murmur of the halls was nowhere to be found and the shouting of a debate between geniuses was nonexistent, it was the perfect time to conduct his research.

“...And now, the objective is complete. That is all.” He lifted himself from the ground and took a step back to witness his work. 

In the middle of his lab, a transmutation circle laid in wait to be used. The man set his chalk aside and stepped right in the middle of it. “Anaxagoras, Sage of the Grove of Epiphany, asks the laws of this world, why do humans think? Of countless living beings and countless creations of titans only humans share the joy of reason and the pain of awareness.” Even on his own the man was averse to forfeit a monologue, he wasn’t The Great Performer for nothing, after all. “One can ponder for an answer, but only flawed responses can emerge from the very thing we ask the question about, for there is no objectivity in self affirmation. Take a piece of my soul, as it won’t be complete until my question is answered.”

The room was now bright from the light that emanated from the transmutation circle. The feeling of a part of him being taken away only left room for reassurance, equivalent exchange, no part of his soul would be consumed for an answer that could not be offered.

The light began to dim, and Anaxagoras waited for the moment his mind was able to achieve the eureka, aided by the world around him that answered more than those revered as gods. He waited until the moonlight became his lone companion but nothing came. His mindscape remained empty, and he could not glean the Truth of his unanswered question.

“Tsk, a failure.” Anaxagoras approached his desk and opened his latest scroll to write down his experiment. He didn’t face the Truth but a piece of his soul was taken nonetheless, so maybe what happened was that his comprehension was expanded enough to be able to reach the answer of his question alone. 

He got up from the chair and headed to his quarters, the slight chill as he walked along the hallways a steady constant along Mnestia’s bleeding heart. Tomorrow he had no classes so he could afford himself some time to see what that piece of his soul had given him.

If his hypothesis was correct, thought originated from the mind itself, and so no titan had any part in creating his mind therefore he could freely pursue his more...blasphemous research. The believers state that something created cannot question its creator, for their own creator and their actions is something incomprehensible to mere mortals, but he believed that something created by perfect beings should be perfect, therefore capable of understanding everything. If his mind originated from the titans power, he was perfect, hence his body should be able to become one with a god. If his mind originated from the body, he was imperfect and so the titans are not humanity’s creators, so he is in no way impeded to proceed with his experiment to fuse his soul with a coreflame.

He finally arrived at his room, where he wasted no time changing into his dromas pajamas. As he laid on his bed he resolved to explore the new latent possibilities of his experiment the next day. 

*

Moonlight entered through his windows, but now he could hear the echoes of footsteps and voices outside. It should be somewhere around Lucid Hour’s first quint, he got up and placed his dromas plushie on the bed and got ready for the day.

The washbasin in his room made for a quick bath, the water he drew from the well the day before, cold as ice, helped him drive the remainder grogginess away. The only thing he would admit to miss from Okhema would be their baths, something the Grove abstained from as it was an unnecessary indulgence in the Tree of Knowledge. That and none of the geniuses wanted to clean the baths.

Once changed into his clothes, he was ready to go through the new day in the Grove. Walking through the wood halls, his mere sight made students and teachers alike make way for him. He had long stopped caring about the distance they fiercely enforced whenever he was present, even if some of his students would try to argue that it was out of deference. He may only have one eye left, but that didn’t mean he was blind.

“Professor!” The familiar voice brought him back from his musings, “Good morning, professor.”

“Hyacine, good day to you too.” He waited for her to catch up with him, and resumed his path walking at her pace. “Are you ready for the debate?”

“Ready as ever! I won’t go easy on them, professor Anaxa.” Ever since Hyacine had taken her place as Anaxagoras’ teaching assistant, the young woman had taken the job of selecting the student that would represent the Nousporist School in the Great Debate. It had been a welcomed addition, as the year Hyacine took over Anaxagoras for these preliminary debates participation more than doubled.

“Oh? So you went easy on them before? Maybe I should return to do the pre-selection myself…” It was not like he was completely absent from these debates, after all, it was natural for a teacher to correct their students’ mistakes and he could not do so if he didn’t know how well they would fare in one.

“I always give my all!” Hyacine retorted, exhasperated. 

“I know.” He stepped onto the waterwheel’s paddle as it emerged from below water, followed by Hyacine.

“I swear, one day you’ll come to the Courtyard because you slipped here.”

“Then I trust Miss Hyacine will heal this frail scholar that suffered a terrible accident.” He hopped onto the higher floor and proceeded his walk.

“There would be no accident if the professor would simply call the waterwheel like everyone else.” 

“But it is faster this way.”

“My professor once told me impatience is the mark of foolishness and will only preceed rashness.”

“Your professor sounds like a true erudite.”

Hyacine sighed as Anaxagoras entered the meal hall, she didn’t want to humor her professor’s petty debates anymore. 

The meal hall was sparingly decorated, only some low-reliefs depicting all of the sages from each School and some scenes from the most important myths where Cerces was a main figure. The tables were made of wood and looked as if the Tree itself grew them for this purpose, and torches brought light to the otherwise dark space. They headed to get their breakfast before finding a seat in the almost empty room.

As they went along the tables with food, Hyacine began to load on his plate cheese, figs and pistachios. She had started to do so a few days ago, and in fewer quantity than now, but even when it was completely uncalled for, he made an effort to eat some of them. It seemed his efforts to humor his student backfired, seeing as now his plate was almost completely taken by her picks, so he made a move to put some of it away only to be stopped by Hyacine’s hand.

“Professor Anaxa, didn’t you like my food selection? I’m sure you enjoyed them the other days.” She kindly smiled, as she did her best holding his hand from putting away the pistachios.

He will really get hypocalcemia if he keeps eating like before-

Anaxagoras was stunned. He didn’t see Hyacine’s mouth move an inch from her smile, but he had clearly heard her voice, then again-

“I have a calcium deficit?” He was genuinely shocked. Sure, he wasn’t an expert nutritionist but he was sure he was getting all the nutrients he needed.

“Wha- Why do you think so?” Hyacine was as surprised as him.

Did I say that aloud? Impossible, I had my mouth closed-

“Yes, you were smiling.” Now that he knew what he was expecting he was prepared to hear her talking clearly inside his mind.

“Huh?”

Can he read minds..?

“It appears so.” He felt himself smiling, so this is what he was given to undertand the nature of the mind? He was getting excited to conduct more research.

Was he- were you always able to do this?

“No, I achieved this after an experiment.” He put the pistachios on his plate again. “I have a sudden craving for these, let’s eat this quickly so we can move on to do some experimentation.”

Hyacine glared at him, and although she looked quite cute he didn’t hear any of her thoughts.

“Incredible, I can’t hear them now. Quick, choose whatever you want me to eat so we can finish this faster.”

As the sage moved towards one of the tables to start his breakfast, his teaching assistant stood there, half dismayed that she was roped into an experiment of questionable origins and half elated that her professor wouldn’t become bald so young.

*

After that, time had been a blur. They moved to his classroom where Hyacine kindly became his first test subject, which led to findings such as whether he touched or was touched by, he was able to read her thoughts, and that it didn’t matter if the touch was skin-on-skin or through clothes, as long as there was direct contact. Then he passed onto a bigger sample size. 

Across the next few days students and researchers alike would be surprised by Anaxagoras initiating physical contact. A pat on the back, a hand on their shoulder, the man who once remained untouchable was now doing as if all the times he took out his weapon at the slightest prod was nothing but a bad dream.

“What’s gotten into you now? Nervous for tomorrow’s debate now that the nousporists’ winning streak has come to an end?” Anaxagoras kept perusing the library, knowing that he wouldn’t miss a chance to taunt him before the Grand Debate.

“Old Titus, a student’s victories are not their teacher’s, or do you want us both to participate just for you to taste defeat?” 

“For that you would have to actually win a debate.” The old man approached slowly. “Now be honest with me, what’s gotten into you? You’ve been surprisingly...high-spirited these past few days.”

The head of the Nousporists obviously knew what the man was referring to, he had always valued his personal space and only a handful of people could touch him so freely, and of those five, Hyacine was the only one remaining. That said, he knew that it would only be counterproductive to limit his sample size by something as idiotic as personal preference, so he carefully chose instances where social cues accepted physical touch between colleagues.

“My experiment has been going perfectly, I only need to summarize my findings and present them in the next symposium.”

“Hah, what blasphemy will you show us this time?”

“None whatsoever, it is merely a revelation on the nature of the mind.”

“Well, this time I am actually eager to hear you speak, Anaxa.”

“First, call me Anaxagoras. Second, you will be pleasantly surprised about what I discovered.”

Without leaving any room for his old rival to answer, Anaxagoras went back to his lab, where all of his new writings were stored. He will forever be grateful that all sages get a personal lab with their own seal as he didn’t have to look out for nosy fools trying to take a peek of his research.

*

The day of the Great Debate came and went, the winner was Hypatia of the Nodists, but his student had done fairly well too, a pity he succumbed under the pressure of public speaking, he was sure that if the answers were to be written down his student would’ve advanced to further stages.

Finally, the day after arrived and all the geniuses gathered on the meal hall, marking the beginning of the Grove’s sympossium. The sage who gave the opening statement was Apuleius of the Nodists, clearly full of pride after his student’s win, and many other sages joined in to commend the young woman’s wit and argumentation. As Anaxagoras had nothing more to add onto what was already being said, he sat back and let his colleagues enjoy themselves for a while as he sipped on his wine. Once his cup was emptied and the chatter had died down, he stood up to present his new theory.

Silence was made as he took center stage and began explaining how he had come to the realization that it was not Cerces who granted them reason, that it was the soul. 

‘The soul is connected to the mind’ was a vexing opening statement, but it would also explain many things, such as why even under the same guidance different people would achieve different answers and why people with similar backgrounds could vastly differ from each other. The soul is the thing that gives humans life and their conscience, and the body is the construct that holds such a faculty.

Therefore the soul could be split into three parts: logistikon, in charge of reason, thymoeides, which drove emotions, and epithymetikon, that housed desire.

Perhaps the body should also have a use of its own. It would explain how animals and plants, living beings, have a soul but lack the functions humans are capable of. It could be that a human’s body has the necessary pieces to be able to fully separate a soul in these three parts. Animals may only have a thymoeides and epithymetikon, plants also might have none; even the myth of that creation of Strife that fell in love with a human could be explained this way, they may have only part of the pieces to develop a logistikon and a greater space for thymoeides. 

He couldn’t even finish before the hall erupted in anger. To be honest, he didn’t expect to get to the latter part so he would count it as a success. 

Medea of the Lotophagists stood there dumbfounded as she tried to come up with a counter argument and Euthyphro of the Venerationists looked as red as the wine they all had indulged in. The usual shouts of blasphemer and fool inundated the hall, and one could feel how the temperature inside rose once the first shouts stopped his lesson.

Only when Socrippe of the Erythrokeramists loudly blew his salpinx sounding just like a battle cry, a sound most unnatural from an instrument that gently carried tunes, did the scholars calm down. Socrippe reminded everyone of the fact that, as this was a symposium and not an official academic event, everyone should hold their retorts for the day Anaxagoras formally presented his theory.

Anaxagoras would’ve loved nothing more than to start a new debate, but he knew that revelations as big as these wouldn’t do well with no time to properly understand them and their implications, and so he left the room, for he had nothing left to say.

Almost as soon as Anaxagoras walked out of the hall Hyacine’s steps echoed behind him. Once she catched up to him she simply took his arm and dragged him along.

We have to go to Okhema.

*

“...And that’s why we need to be here for a few weeks.”

Hyacine’s fatal flaw was that she saw no problem in explaining his every tribulation to that woman, who was now smugly smiling at him. She saw Okhema’s demigods as companions in their shared journey and so she fully trusted them, which led to them going to meet both women first thing after arrival. Normally, Anaxagoras would’ve left Hyacine to do the talking, loathing to waste time bowing to the whims of that dressmaker, but this time the healer was particularly worried that someone would follow them to the sanctuary city, so he conceded and accompanied her to this meeting in the Hero’s bath.

“You made the right choice, Hyacine. This time he really took it a step too far, were it not for the fact that his students hold him in such high regard we would be on our way to the Vortex of Genesis for an execution.” Aglaea said to the pink haired woman.

“It appears I have to thank Castorice for this unexpected boon.” His voice carried a bit more bite than usual, but it was not a subject to take lightly about. Castorice, his student, was forced to live alongside death, and while he had taught her in what manner she should hold herself when faced with her duties, he knew that a bleeding heart like hers wouldn’t be able to heed his advice.

“No need, it’s your colaboration with the chrysos heirs over the years the thing that saved you the trip.” She retorted, “Luck is on your side, the golden threads didn’t sense anyone tailing the both of you, so for the moment you can rest.”

“Excellent, no need to prolong this talk.” Anaxagoras turned to leave the Vortex and finally be done with their conversation.

“Indeed, Trianne will show you to your quarters, we can’t be sure that your colleagues haven’t contacted anyone that was already in Okhema. I believe that you should stay in the bath house, for safety’s sake.”

So this was her ploy to keep him under watch, the nerve of that woman. “Luxury accomodations in Okhema’s prided Marmoreal Palace? How can one resist.” 

If he had to stay confined to the building, he would make the most out of of Aglaea’s money.

*

Anaxagoras was very much enouraged to stay within the building, and while the Hero’s bath would undoubtedly be the safest place, it only being avialable to the chrysos heirs and him having personally taught most of the few of them that had chosen to study at the Grove, he would not cower in fear of a mere possibility. 

He had gone to the Garden of Life, and he looked through the scrolls stored in the diamond shaped shelves on the walls. He had no clear reason to look at their scripture selection, the texts would be throughly checked by Aglaea and would fall in line with the prophecy, but there was no harm in looking and he had an indefinite amount of time before he would be able to return to his lab.

He read another account of the founding myth, in the beginning there was only chaos, from which ‘existence’ was created. It was almost nostalgic, thought Anaxagoras, to read the bedtime stories of his infancy.

Aquila and Phagousa are born from Greorios’ breath, and Phagousa wandered between heaven and earth until Talanton created a pool, now called ocean, and Phagousa could rest.

Kephale was tasked with the duty of creation of life, and so, the first humans of Amphoreus were created in Kephale’s own image and given life. Anaxagoras was left thinking if that life meant the human body or the very soul. Strictly following what was written, Kephale merely sculpted the human’s bodies and gave them life, but it didn’t deeply delve into wether souls existed before the body or if they were made to inhabit the body.

Anaxagoras walked towards the tree in the garden, wanting to inmerse himself in a space reminiscent of the Grove as much as possible, and he began to examine ways to defend his argument agaisnt the most religious of the Seven Sages.

It was a while before he settled for a comparison. Kephale created life before he created the humans, and so souls came to be. Alas, it could not interact with the world the titans had created and so Kephale thought for days and nights. When Kephale went to Phagousa for advice, as Phagousa is the Titan that controls oceans and storms and Kephale was born from the lighting bolts that striked the spine of the earth from the skies, Phagousa reminded Kephale that in Kephale’s birth two other Titans were involved. And so, Kephale was stricken by a realization. Souls were never meant to be by themselves, they, like water, needed to be contained in a greater object. Kephale then took a part of the earth and mixed it with a part of water, once the body was given form, Kephale inserted the soul into the receptacle and so the first human was born.

These humans would live for centuries, until Thanatos was born. Aging, sickness and starvation came into existence, and the bodies created by Kephale fell one after another. The souls, with no way to return to the land of the living would either roam across the land before they inevitably dissipated or enter the body of a newborn, which, since it had been created by humans, had no soul.

Although this argumentation was made as a way to make more ammenable his discoveries, he found himself asking where the chrysos heirs fit in this puzzle.

If the chrysos heirs can achieve divinity and become demi-gods, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think they can break away from the cycle of life and death. The thing that marks one as a chrysos heir is the golden blood they carry, the body, not the soul. If so, one could say their bodies were made with the objective of not only housing a soul, but also the possibility of something grander. A new god. 

As life and death arrived for all humans, it wouldn’t catch the soul, and so it would leave no room but oblivion or reincarnation. The same souls living over and over for centuries just in different bodies--

“Professor? Are you alright?” A hand gently tapped his shoulder and Anaxagoras was brought out from his musings. Were it anyone else he would’ve slapped the hand away and harshly admonished the interloper for his daringness, but...

He has been staring into space for quite a while now... 

“Phainon, do you make a habit of interrupting people in the middle of a revelation?” He said, with no real harshness behind his tone. 

“Forgive me professor, I saw you here and inmediatly wanted to talk with you, but you didn’t respond no matter how much I talked to you.”

“Just as impatient as back then. Anyhow, now that I’ve lost my focus it would be a good idea to move around for a bit, you can join me for a walk if you need to ask a question.” Anaxagoras made to stand from the seat under the tree, only now noticing how rigid his joints felt, just how long had he been coming up with an explanation?

“Let me put this away for you then.” As he reached for the scroll their fingers touched and-

He is just so beautiful when he’s deep in thought...

Huh?

Anaxagoras’ blood ran cold for a second. He looked at Phainon and found clear blue eyes staring back at him, then the younger man smiled at him. Impossible.

“Can you lend me a hand? My body has chosen to punish me after staying still for so long.”

Phainon extended his hand, Anaxagoras reached for it and-

He seems so delicate, like a breeze could blow him away...

“Sorry, I have to go. I need to do something.” Was all Anaxagoras said before running away like a coward, the only thing on his mind being ‘What was that?’ 

Once again in the luxurious room, the scholar laid on the klinai with his mind in disarray. What was that about? Why had he heard Phainon’s voice, as clear as day, admit Anaxagoras was someone beautiful? The sage had been agonizing over this question for an embarrasing amount of time.

‘Surely that was an intrusive thought. Exactly, that must be it, he is not attracted to me in any way.’

After Anaxagoras convinced himself it was all his imagination, he decided that taking a nap and forgetting about it was the best course of action.

*

The first few times he saw Phainon after that intrusive thought, he endeavored to prove his old student had no more toughts of such nature. He failed miserably. 

Anaxagoras would be answering the questions the young man presented him, the same eager look he recalled had been on his face all those years ago, when he had just arrived at the Grove after his coming of age ceremony like many other students. Yes, this was the face of a model student, he reached towards his upper arm, looking for confirmation--

Blessed be Kephale, holding up the dawn device, I had forgotten just how beautiful he looked under the sun...

‘Stop that!’

Anaxagoras was dismayed, each time they talked, even in greeting, his student only had useless thoughts! 

Another day, he tried to broach the subject in a natural way, of course omitting the whole mind reader part of all of this.

“Hey, are you even paying attention?”

“I always listen to you, professor. You were saying how it was impossible for our minds by themselves to form unique thought, as they mainly serve to store knowledge, so that’s why we can deduct that the soul works alongside the body for us to be able to reason.” Phainon summarized perfectly his arguments in favor of Cerces not have given humanity reason, still Anaxagoras now distrusted what the young man was thinking as he diligently listened to his monologue.

‘Such a troublemaker...’

“Good, but don’t be smug about it.” Anaxagoras used his hand to softly smack Phainon’s head; it was something his teacher, Empedocles, did from time to time, and he was so comfortable he forgot himself in their conversation.

He looks cute when bothered...

Anaxagoras wanted to dig a hole and disappear.

*

If anyone asked him, Anaxagoras didn’t need anything from Okhema for he had everything he needed at the Grove. His research, his students and most importantly, peace and quiet. Sadly, the Grove didn’t have a bathhouse and Okhema’s Marmoreal Palace was a source of pride for their inhabitants, somewhere they could forget about life for a few hours and simply relax.

Anaxagoras desperately needed to do that.

Changing into the usual bathhouse get-up he made his way to the Hero’s bath, he liked bath houses but didn’t enjoy the sheer number of people in them, so the much limited number in the reserved space for chrysos heirs was appreciated.

He had almost gotten to the platform when someone called for him.

“Professor!”

He didn’t need to turn to know Phainon was behind him and so he didn’t. He simply called for the platform and waited until the young man caught up with him because of course he of all people would be at the baths now.

When Phainon reached his field of vision Anaxagoras wished he had turned around when he called for him the first time. The older man knew that Phainon had taken the role of a hero in the flamechase journey, and he understood that it meant constant battle against the titankin, so of course he figured the white haired man would be handsomely built and in a setting such as this there would be no clothes that hid it. What Anaxagoras had failed to take into consideration was that Phainon had just arrived from training.

The new arrival was glistening with sweat and the mint haired man could clearly see tan lines along his arms and v neck. Right now, the man in front of him was the very definition of vitality.

“I didn’t expect to see you here, what a coincidence!” Phainon began to speak, filling the silence the stunned man had created. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy the pools, they have added a few seal floaties and some kind of glittering thing to the baths!”

The man stepped into the platform, which apparently had arrived at some point, and Anaxagoras quickly followed. As the disc slowly elevated them to the second floor, Anaxagoras felt something around them, although he couldn’t quite place what it was.

Once the platform stopped, the scholar figured each would go their own way, but he didn’t know if it would be rude to simply go without answering.

“Professor.” Phainon brought him out of his thoughts. “Would you take a bath with me?”

‘Ah,’ thought Anaxagoras, ‘it was anticipation.’

*

The water in the pool was just right, not lukewarm and neither too hot. Anaxagoras felt his muscles relax from the stressful few days he had gone through. If only the water reached higher, he wanted nothing more than to sink right up his chin in the warm bath. Phainon had been an incredible companion so far, knowing full well how silence was golden in some occasions.

A few minutes had passed in comfortable silence, but unkown to him, the man beside him only felt a constant, rising tension. His dear had come to Okhema and would spend some time there. Even if the circumstances weren’t the best for him, Phainon was elated to know he could see him again after he graduated and left the Grove two years ago. Seeing him again was precious, but apart from that, for the past few days his beloved professor Anaxa had initated touch in many occasions, making his chest warm at the prospect of his once teacher making subtle advances now that they were student and teacher no more.

And then he saw him in the baths, wearing only a doric style chiton, and Phainon was done for. The tender warmth turned into scorching desire, epithymetikon, said Anaxa in his head, and now he could fully understand what it meant. The tension had been there since both boarded the platform, Phainon prided himself in knowing every little expression of his professor, so he obviously noticed the way he flushed when he saw him wearing the same get up as the one he was wearing, and he obviously spotted the way he eyed his torso, still covered in sweat. He would be forever grateful for Oronyx, letting him arrive at just the right moment for this to happen.

Phainon started to reach with his foot towards Anaxa’s calf, reveling in the touch and slowly feeling along his leg.

Anaxagoras, who until now had been in a world of his own, had thought nothing of the touch at first, Phainon was taller than him and had longer legs as a result, so at first he thought it was an accidental touch, and then he saw himself. 

He wasn’t seeing himself per se, there were no mirrors in the pool, so he came to the conclusion that Phainon was the owner of these images that appeared on his mind leaving him shaken.

Not one, not two, but three different versions of himself stared right at him, all in different levels of undress. Their hooded eyes and the postures they were in making it impossible to dismiss this thoughts as a mere study of the anatomical figure. The foot slowly caressing his calf was no better.

“Shameless!” Anaxagoras got up inmediatly and left the pool, leaving no room for Phainon to plead his case, and left the baths.

*

Anaxagoras had been laying on his klinai for Oronyx knows how long, dissecting each and every interaction he’d had with Phainon over the past few days. His whole world turned upside down. He should remain inside for however many weeks his colleagues would choose to banish him.

A knock on the door made him snap out of his spiraling, only to be consumed by fear, what if it was Phainon? He had fled and locked himself in without giving any proper explanation. After calling him shameless.

There was another knock, and Anaxagoras began to gauge how difficult it would be to escape from him room through the balcony.

“Professor Anaxa? Are you inside?” Hyacine’s voice came through the door and his anxiousness dissapeared.

Quietly, he ran across the stupidly big room to reach the door, unlocking it and opening a space wide enough to peek with his eye. Hyacine’s darling face was staring at him worriedly and he wished for nothing more than to reassure her. But.

“Is anyone with you?”

Hyacine was taken aback for a second before answering, “No, I came here alone.”

Anaxagoras opened the door for her to enter his room.

Once they were both inside and seated, she asked him what had happened. ‘What hadn’t happened?’, he wanted to ask her in turn, he had discovered his student had been harboring not so pure thoughts about him and on top of that he suspected it had been happening since he was still a student in the Grove.

“I happened to find an old friend,” he lied. “And he told me about how one of his students had started to...make advances towards him.”

“Oh, my.” Hyacine covered her moth in suprise.

“He’s not his student anymore, of course. After some time, they found each other by chance and his former student began his pursuit in earnest. My friend didn’t do anything about this, but they stayed in touch and have been meeting from time to time.”

Hyacine let Anaxagoras continue, hands folded on her lap and her full attention on him.

“Then, they met in the Marmoreal Palace. They chose to bathe in a pool together, but then, his student...propositioned himself to him.”

“What?” Hyacine almost shouted. 

“Indeed.” Had Anaxagoras been touching Hyacine, he would hear her curse at how Phainon had omitted the part where he propositioned Anaxa, of course he would flee, it was a public space! She decided next time, she wouldn’t help him out.

“And what did he say?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your friend, what did he do?”

“Oh, you see, he, uh, came to me for advice. So he didn’t do anything.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, and I fear I don’t have an answer to give him.”

“Poor student,” Hyacine said after a pause. “He gave his heart to his former teacher and was left alone with nothing.”

‘Had, Phainon, given him his heart?’ He asked himself, and clear eyes and a gentle smile flashed through his mind. Something deep inside his chest ached, thymoeides.

“Before he seeks advice on what to do, I think he should ask himself wether he liked his former student or not.”

Did Anaxagoras like Phainon? He was a brilliant man, but also had a noble heart, and was both charming and thoughtful. Of course, he was also handsome, but it was all of those other things that made him someone Anaxagoras liked to have around.

He had been pretty eager to touch Phainon anytime an opportunity arose, had he done so just to hear the words straight from Phainon’s mind?

*

He had been thinking about Phainon all night long, better said, he had been thinking about his feelings related to Phainon all night long. A long time ago, the school of the Nodists had a teacher that used to go on walks with his students as he imparted his lessons and reflected on life, as he believed it engaged both body and mind and thus aided in the formation of thoughts, so he took example and went to the city after weeks confined to have a proper walk.

After arriving to the Marmoreal Market, he began walking through the side streets, and maybe because he had to figure out a matter of the heart, he chose to head in the direction of the tree that witnessed infinite promises between lovers. There, stood a young woman below the shade, in front of her a line of men standing behind one on one knee. The woman stood there impassively, and the man left deflated, not even a second after the first man had stood up, the one behind him stepped up and got on one knee. The woman kept standing impassively, and the new man also left. Every single one of the men in line recieved the same response and left in the same spirits.

He continued his walk, arriving at a street with a garden arch with hanging wisteria. What would he have done, had he been in the woman’s position, and Phainon in one of the failed suitor’s? He walked through the street, the floral scent permeating the air, he didn’t know how he would respond, but he most definetily wouldn’t be able to watch Phainon leave looking so miserable.

The streets led him back to the main one, and he decided to buy some fruits in Demetria’s stall as thanks to Hyacine, even if he would have to make up an excuse for the sudden gift. As he waited for his turn, he noticed a man running through the street, normally he would have brushed him aside, but he was sure the man was coming straight towards him. 

‘Ah, so that woman was right,’ Anaxagoras thought as he readied himself to take out his teaching equipment. The man was bigger than him, but his creation was sure to take him down. ‘Let’s see which of the sages wants my head.’

Then, a flash of blue and white blocked his sight from the pursuer, the body of his student acting as a shield. He began to draw his sword when the man running towards him stopped in his tracks.

“Wait, you’ve misunderstood!”

Phainon stopped, even if his guard was still up and his sword halfway unsheathed.

“I am Xenophon, of the Helkolithists. Cornelius, our sage, alongside the sages of the Caprists, the Erythrokeramists and the Lotophagists have been able to assuage Sages Euthyphro and Apuleius. He wanted for Sage Anaxagoras to know that he was free to come back whenever he wished.”

“Then why did you run towards him? We’re inside Okhema, you must understand how suspicious it looks to run towards an asylee, right?” Phainon’s voice was harsh, and his question pointed.

“I have been looking for him for a few days, none in the city knew if he was here, so when I saw him from afar I just ran before he could dissappear.”

A perfect reasoning, Anaxagoras would take his chances-- Phainon was here after all. He stepped aside, making himself visible from where he was.

“Thank you for your work, Xenophon. I will tell Hyacine so we can begin making preparations for our return.”

“It was nothing, Sage Anaxagoras. I was able to take some time to see my family. Oh! Before I forget, Sage Socrippe asked me to hand you this letter.” He searched in his bag for the clay tablet, a cloth wrapping it to try and maintain the secrecy of its contents, which he then handed to Axanagoras. “Well, then I will return. May Cerces safeguard your thoughts.”

The man began to make his way back to the Grove, leaving both Phainon and Anaxagoras alone. He looked at the contents of the letter, Socrippe told him that from what the scholars who calmed down Euthyphro and Apuleius could remember from his speech at the symposyum, they had managed to advocate in favor of his theory being given a chance to be formally presented before they accused him of blasphemy, so he had a chance before they took out the stakes.

Anaxagoras smirked. Of course they would come around, even if the sages weren’t in complete agreement with his theory, they were still the sages that had advocated all those years ago that the scope of the Grove’s research shouldn’t be shackled to religion.

Once he put away the clay tablet, he turned to Phainon. By now, the man had put away his sword, and was now hanging awkwardly where he had shielded him from a mere messenger. Well, at least he hadn’t fled at the first opportunity.

“Phainon, what was that?” He settled on asking a question, giving him the benefit of the doubt and a chance to explain himself. 

“Well, Lady Aglaea told me that someone had been asking around Okhema if they had seen you...and Hyacine had told me why you were here, so I thought...”

“That secretly following me was the best option?” He wasn’t surprised, it was clearly Aglaea’s idea to not tell him anything, still, he didn’t like to be protected like he would faint at the slightest danger. “You should’ve told me, we could’ve gotten this over with faster.”

“I only did so because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable! After all, yesterday…” Phainon didn’t finish his sentence. He had a conflicted expression on his face, and Anaxagoras thought back on the face of that man. It seemed he finally had an answer for his earlier question.

“Well, being followed is uncomfortable. But seeing as you’re here, come, let’s look around the city.” 

*

The rest of the day, Phainon and Anaxagoras spent it together. They went together to see the books offered on the Librarium, where he ended up almost buying a collection of poems. It was here that, after asking Phainon about what types of books he recommended, the man began to relax around him, and after a dozen of recommendations and hearing multiple of his book critiques he could tell the man was enjoying their time together.

Next, they went to look through Theodoros’ Antiques, where Phainon was apparently a regular. They spent even more time there, both Phainon and Theodoros alternating between explaining to the scholar where an antique came from and appraising the antiques customers brought in.

After that, Phainon was apologetic over how much time he had been engrossed in the antique shop, so he took him to the Dromas’ stable, where with his charm he got help from the dromases’ caretaker to feed one some redsoil. As Anaxagoras fed the beautiful creature, he struck a conversation with Ctesias, the head caretaker, and he got to ask many questions to the expert and fellow dromas enthusiast.

It was getting late, so they went ahead and dined at the Marmoreal diner, recounting entertaining things that had happened to them, sharing their opinions on topics and fondly recalling the things they had done that day.

Phainon had walked him back to his room in the Marmoreal Palace, the mood around them light and warm. Anaxagoras had a very good time walking around with Phainon with no clear destination in mind, he had enjoyed their time together, and that only left the looming departure a source of dread.

“Well, I really enjoyed today, professor,” Phainon said, a gentle smile and slight blush reflected in his expression. Just as he was about to leave, Anaxagoras reached for his hand.

“Come inside?”

Holy fuck.

Anaxagoras took that as a good sign, and waited for a now fully flushed Phainon to gather himself and answer him.

“Uh, well, I-I dont think I can stay for long, you know, my house is quite far from here and I don’t know if I could ride a dromas back so late…” 

Phainon’s thoughts were a jumbled mess, nothing he was thinking he could clearly hear, it was almost a cacophony of noise. Then again, the image of a vision-Anaxagoras appeared front and center. He was of course, in the middle of undressing.

“You can just spend the night.”

 And with a single sentence, the hero of Amphoreus entered the scholar’s room.

*

Now, a few days after, Anaxagoras found himself almost reluctant to part from Okhema. He wished to go back to his lab and classes, but his newfound lover made for a very important reason to delay his return to the Grove as much as possible. Finally, with Hyacine’s official discharge on his almost hypocalcemia (courtsey of Okhema’s permanent daylight), he had no more excuses to remain in the city.

His lover had made quite a big deal of his parting and now he was getting ready for a farewell dinner for both Hyacine and himself. It would be better if that woman wasn’t invited, but, as her meddling had come in handy this time, he was willing to be amenable to her presence. He was getting ready, trying to hide the marks left on his skin as best he could, but every time he was sure none could be seen, another showed itself or a previously hidden one would begin to peek out of his top. He gave up halfway and simply chose to use his usual vest and cape.

“Okay, I’m ready.” The man walked across the room and got where his partner was waiting for him, at the other side of the folding screen while he changed. Anaxagoras thought it was silly but also somewhat charming.

His relationship with Phainon was a secret for the moment, as they were in the early stages of getting to know each other as themselves with no titles attached, just Phainon and Anaxagoras, but he didn’t doubt that they would be alright.

“Then let’s go, Anaxa.” Before they left, he kissed him, and Anaxagoras was once again overwhelmed by Phainon’s lips and his thoughts, yet he wouldn’t want it any other way.

Outside they would merely be old acquantancies, so moments like these should be treasured.

*

They arrived on time to the farewell dinner. Too on time, in his opinion. 

The dressmaker was on her own flamechase journey to get on Anaxagoras’ nerves, so much so that he deeply regretted ever humoring the idea that he could be amiable for one evening. Lady Tribios and lady Trinnon were trying to get them to bury the hatchet for this last day, but lady Trianne was more than happy to fuel the fire. Hyacine was inmersed in dialogue with Castorice, who up until some time ago was chatting with Phainon and himself. Aglaea was about to make another retort to his argument when Phainon re-entered the hall.

“Professor, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” Behind him, a man even taller than Phainon walked inside. He had sharp features and an air of extravagance, but the fact that the man walked around half naked vanished the initial awe Anaxagoras had regarded the stranger with. “He’s Mydeimos, he has recently joined the flame-chase journey but his battle prowess is nothing to look down on.” The man scoffed, and Anaxagoras could see the tells of someone used to being praised. “Mydei, this is Anaxagoras, sage of the Nousporist School in the Grove of Epiphany.”

“So this is the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos.” Anaxagoras had turned to face both men, clearly ignoring the dressmaker and smirking in satisfaction at being given an out of this petty debate. “A pleasure. You may not call me Anaxa, call me Anaxagoras.”

He held out his hand in greeting, which the crown prince looked at almost dumbfounded. After a moment of surprise, Mydeimos took his hand and shook it. “So you are the teacher he always talked about, a pleasure.”

He’s pretty.

Huh.