𝕿he S𝖔und 𝖔f Br𝖔ken 𝕿hunder - Stri and Socks

Orpheus didn’t know where Myrnin was going, at least not at first. He was a bit confused why he wasn’t heading towards the road, but it dawned on him a few moments later. A path that not many people had gone down – food. Myrnin was loud enough to scare off most of the animals, so Orpheus figured they weren’t hunting. That was alright with him. He had lived mostly vegetarian for a while. He was just… hungry. For the first time since he had lost Eurydice, he noted, and the knowledge just left him feeling more hollow. Even without her, the world kept on turning, life kept on going exactly as it had before. Except there was no music this time.
“What are we looking for?” he called ahead, glancing at the plants growing along the path Myrnin had taken. He was still a good couple feet behind him, but he figured having a second pair of eyes might help, in case Myrnin missed anything. The only issue was, Orpheus didn’t exactly know what was edible and what wasn’t. He’d never really had to gather his own food, even in the spring, when everything was growing.
He knew for the most part which plants to avoid. You couldn’t have an entire childhood so close to a wilderness without having that lesson imprinted in your mind. He just… didn’t know what was edible.

Orpheus glanced at the plant, nodding a little bit as Myrnin pointed it out. Edible. That was good enough for him. He grabbed a few stems of it, then followed Myrnin a little further. He grabbed some berries off the shrub, then a few stalks of the third plant. He didn’t know if that would be enough, and he didn’t know if he was going to like any of them, but food was better than no food. And it would have to hold him over until they reached another village.
“I hope so,” Orpheus murmured, glancing dubiously at the plants he had gathered. He wasn't even paying attention to the fact his shins were now sopping wet. “Do you… did you want any?” He hesitated for a long moment before trying the plants he had gathered. The first was unpleasantly bitter, but the second and third was alright. He was fairly certain he had eaten the berries from the shrub before – they reminded him of childhood. Which was… well, depressing. He shook the thought away. “I don’t know if I gathered enough for two, but… well, I can always go back for more if you would like some.”

“Oh,” Orpheus whispered, glancing at the plants he’d gathered. Myrnin seemed kind. He had taken his time to provide Orpheus with food (or at least point out how Orpheus could provide himself with food), when he didn’t want any himself. It felt selfish to Orpheus to just eat without giving any to Myrnin, but if he didn’t want any…
“Alright,” he managed after a moment, “but if you get hungry… please tell me. I’d be happy to stop so we can find something for you.” He forced a smile, unaware that his commentary was probably only making things worse for his companion.
Orpheus wasn’t sure if Myrnin going back was an invitation for him to join him, but he followed anyway, not wanting to lose the one person he’d managed to find. He didn’t want to think about what he had lost, but he found he didn’t want to be alone, either. He tried to ignore how wet the stream had made his legs as he hurried after, determined not to get left behind.

Though Orpheus had never seen the thumbs up symbol before, the enthusiasm in the gesture gave him enough indication as to what it meant. He didn’t question it, at the very least. The smile, too, helped convey the meaning, and Orpheus nodded. He wasn’t sure he quite believed Myrnin – his tone seemed to shake a little bit, in such a way that Orpheus might not have noticed if it weren’t the exact same way his did when he tried to reassure the people around him that he was fine, really.
Something terrible had happened to Myrnin, Orpheus could tell. He had lost someone, or… or something. Something important.
Orpheus wasn’t one to push. If he asked about Myrnin’s pain, it opened the doors to Myrnin asking about his own, which Orpheus wasn’t sure he’d be able to talk about. Maybe… maybe one day, if they stayed together that long. Orpheus had no idea if this was meant to be a permanent arrangement, or even a semi-permanent one. Part of him hoped it would be. He needed a friend.
“Ready,” he echoed, following Myrnin on the road. The plants had been filling enough to keep him on his feet, at least.
At first they passed very few people, but as the road branched once or twice, more people came into view, most heading the other way, but some on horseback treading the same path as Orpheus and Myrnin.
“We must be close to somewhere,” he observed, though it was probably unhelpful. Myrnin was smart enough to make that observation himself.

Orpheus glanced over at Myrnin, shrugging a little bit. He hadn’t seen much of civilization in the past week or so… it felt like it had been much longer. Were they enjoying their spring, now that it had finally returned? Did they know the price Orpheus had paid to bring it to him? He swallowed the hint of bitterness he felt. The loss he had suffered was nobody’s fault but his own. The people around him deserved to enjoy spring – bringing it back was all he had intended to do.
“I used to travel, when I was small,” he replied, shrugging. “Wherever Mr. Hermes needed to go.” He just assumed that Myrnin would know who Hermes was. “I… was never very good at telling the cities apart, though. The people… well, in essence, the people were all the same. I sailed to Colchis, once. But that’s… well, that’s very far away from here.” He frowned, falling silent again. The easiest way to figure out where they were would be to ask someone, but Orpheus found that task more difficult than he cared to admit. Talking to Myrnin was hard enough, and Myrnin was preoccupied with his own melancholy. How hard might it be to talk to someone who might notice the sadness weighing down everything Orpheus was?

“Yes, Hermes,” Orpheus answered simply, brow creasing into something like a frown. He wasn’t sure if he had expected Myrnin to know who that was or not. He seemed confused, at the very least, that Orpheus had travelled with him.
“He… sort of took me in, when I was little.” There was more to the story, but Orpheus was far from convinced that Myrnin would want to hear it. They had both made an effort not to talk about their pasts, and Orpheus didn’t know if it was crossing the line to explain how his father had died and how his mother had left soon after. No… it was probably just easier to leave it at the fact that Hermes had taken care of him.
Myrnin was wise, it seemed, at least about the effects of travelling. Would Orpheus ever be able to go back to Thrace? If he did, he’d be a different person entirely. Perhaps it was better to just… stay away, for now.
“Maybe lost isn’t a bad thing,” he added after a long moment, lifting his gaze to meet Myrnin’s. “Maybe it just means… we get to discover where we go. Travelling without a destination…” he hesitated, unsure how to finish his thought. “I guess,” he continued after a long moment, “It means we get to take from this journey whatever we choose to.” Orpheus followed Myrnin’s gaze to the side road, then nodded. It still felt better to avoid people. Even if Orpheus had no concrete reason to do so.

Orpheus had spent a good portion of his life only associating with people who knew gods. Even casual people who just so happened to frequent Persephone’s favorite restaurant. The gods just… existed in the world, interacting with normal people, finding their way among them. They were all navigating the exact same world, it was just that the gods were a little bit more powerful than everyone else. He didn’t know that vampires existed. He had seen monsters, but vampires weren’t exactly monsters. They were just different versions of people. Like gods. They just weren’t part of the world he knew.
He tiled his head just a little bit, unfamiliar with the quote Myrnin had remembered. It didn’t exist yet. It was a sentiment he appreciated, though.
“Are we lost?” He asked after a moment, his voice very quiet. “We’re near a town, we’ll be able to find out where we are…” he knew ‘lost’ didn’t necessarily mean physically lost. He knew mentally he was lost, though he didn’t admit it to Myrnin.
“Maybe… we just keep walking. See where this road leads us.” He looked ahead – he couldn’t see where it was leading, but it seemed to draw near to the town. A secret, silent path. One that very few had tread. “Maybe it leads somewhere worth going.”

Orpheus didn’t hear Myrnin’s comment. If he had… well, then he would have to admit that he was pretty lost, too. He could pretend he wasn’t, he could pretend that every waking moment wasn’t spent yearning to be back by Eurydice’s side, to have one more chance to save her… but he’d be lying to himself, and he didn’t want to do that.
He noticed the way Myrnin almost tripped, but he was too slow to help him. He was grateful when Myrnin regained his balance just moments later. It was probably best they both stay on their feet.
“Oh…” Orpheus’ brow creased a little bit as he considered the question. He would have had an answer once, but… he didn’t know now. He didn’t know what he did when the music had left his head, when there were no melodies trying to eke their way into his consciousness. “I… I used to write songs.” That was the best he could do until he figured out something else to fill the time. “What about you?”

Orpheus managed a small smile as he heard Myrnin’s answer. Learning things. When was the last time he had learned something new? Well… not even ten minutes ago, he supposed, when Myrnin had showed him which plants were edible. He hadn’t known that before.
“That’s a good use of time,” he murmured in response, following Myrnin without giving much thought to where they were going. They’d reach a destination at some point – all roads led somewhere, even if you didn’t know where.
He noticed Myrnin’s slowing, but he didn’t have a concept of why until he felt Myrnin’s hand wrapping around his. He glanced down sharply, a little bit surprised, but he didn’t move to pull away. He could follow someone else. It would probably be a lot more effective than having others follow him…
“Alright,” Orpheus murmured, his curiosity piqued in spite of himself. He didn’t ask what Myrnin was looking for – if he had wanted to share, he would have. And… well, surprises could be enjoyable, at times. It was nice to see Myrnin brightening up about something, though, even if it was something little.

It took Orpheus a lot longer to hear the music. Part of it was a lack of powerful senses, but the rest of it was simply that he wasn’t listening for music. He had tried to stop thinking about it, tried to tell himself that he wasn’t going to play again, but he knew that wasn’t realistic. His head was empty, no melodies playing absentmindedly as he walked. He’d been dried up – the sight of flowers no longer wove itself into poetry, the feeling of a crisp breeze didn’t make his fingers start to tap out a rhythm. But the songs he knew – the ones he had written and treasured before – they still existed in his mind. Even if he couldn’t make any new music, he knew he’d never be able to give it up entirely.
When he heard it, though, he stiffened, eyes widening as the sound filled him, flooded him, pulled him forward as though he had no say in the matter. There were people – far more people than Orpheus had been ready for, but technically not a large crowd.
“It’s nice,” he whispered to Myrnin, forcing a smile as he looked up to meet his companion’s eyes. “It’s really nice,” he added, forcing a bit more excitement into his words. He meant them. He wanted Myrnin to know he meant them.

There was something comforting about holding another person’s hand. Perhaps it was just the reminder that Orpheus wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to think about being alone again, as long as Myrnin was there. As long as it was his hand in Myrnin’s, they couldn’t be lost. You couldn’t be lost with two people. Well… you could, but at least there was someone else there to bounce ideas off of until you found where you needed to go. Maybe it was easier to be physically lost with two people than it was to be mentally lost with two people.
He wasn’t sure where they were going, but getting away from the crowd seemed like a good idea to him. It was alright to have a reminder of people, but he had a feeling they both needed to be alone for just a bit longer before they were really ready to rejoin society. He breathed out, letting Myrnin guide the way.
By the time they reached the river, Orpheus could still hear the music if he strained his ears a little. It was still comforting, still… nice. He was still drawn to music, no matter how hard he pretended he didn’t need it in his life anymore. It was like oxygen – he couldn’t go terribly long without it.
“Maybe… we should stay here for a bit,” he murmured, slipping off his shoes and stepping into the river. It was nice. The water was cold, and the feeling of smooth pebbles beneath his feet was comforting. “I mean… if you don’t mind staying here. Not… not for long, but…” he trailed off, lips pressing together into an awkward smile.

Orpheus didn’t know whether or not he wanted to stay, only that the sun was warm and the water was nice and he wanted nothing more than to just… let himself live in this moment instead of having to remember the way he failed, remember the expression on Eurydice’s face as he failed her… he shook the thought away, closing his eyes and letting himself just… exist. And feel the water against his feet, feel the breeze blowing his hair back.
“We don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he murmured, hugging his arms to his chest. He frowned a little bit, trying to figure out if there was something dangerous about the water or if Myrnin just didn’t like how cold it was. He didn’t mind the cold, but maybe that was because he was used to dipping his toes in the cold water of the ocean close to home. This wasn’t home. He wasn’t sure if anywhere would ever be home again.
“Yes,” he murmured, not entirely sure what else Myrnin might be getting at. “You don’t?” he guessed softly, looking up to search Myrnin’s gaze. “I used to go swimming a lot,” he said, finding it easier to talk about nothing than to drown in his own thoughts. “I grew up near the ocean.” Had he already mentioned that to Myrnin? He breathed out, letting his arms fall back down to his side. He really needed to get out of his head.

“Hot,” Orpheus echoed, trying to picture it. The hottest place he had ever been was Hadestown. With its oppressive, fake heat. Heat that was trying to imitate summer but failing, because Orpheus doubt4ed Hades had actually felt the sun in a very, very long time. Had it been warm the day Hades had taken Eurydice? Orpheus couldn’t remember. He hadn’t gone outside. He hadn’t helped. She’d been taken by the wind, by the world that Orpheus had promised to change. By the very thing Orpheus had promised wouldn’t hurt her. He was a liar. Or a fool. Maybe both.
“I always thought rivers were nice,” he said numbly, not quite able to shake the thought away. They were a sorry pair, the two of them. Both grieving something, both too uncertain to ask the other what it was. Both desperately avoiding sharing their story with a stranger, like keeping it to oneself would mean it’s not true. Not really. Orpheus decided to let himself believe that lie for just a little bit longer. What harm could it do?

Orpheus hadn’t expected to be hugged. He didn’t protest – how could he protest, when he desperately needed the feeling of another body against his. He felt Myrnin’s heartbeat, letting himself relax against his new companion. The last person he hugged… had been Eurydice. And she was dead now.
If he had known Myrnin wasn’t alive in the traditional sense, he probably wouldn’t have said anything. The gods weren’t alive in the traditional sense either, and yet a hug from Hermes was just as valuable as a hug from anyone else. More valuable actually, because he knew for a fact that Hermes cared about him, which couldn’t always be guaranteed for strangers. Somehow, though, he had a feeling Myrnin cared, if only because he cared about Myrnin. They hadn’t said anything to each other but looking at Myrnin’s expression felt almost like looking at a reflection of himself. They were both struggling with something, but by travelling together, they told the world that they didn’t have to face it alone. Even if neither of them wanted to talk about what was troubling them.
He finally wrapped his arms around Myrnin in return, squeezing him just a bit tighter. He didn’t want to let go. Finding that touch, however unfamiliar it was, made him want to curl in tighter and let himself cry. He felt the tears building, and though he tried to push them back, at least one stubborn drop traced its way down his cheek. Thankfully, he doubted Myrnin could see. And even if he could… Orpheus hoped he wouldn’t mind.