Chat History
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the meadows of crete blossomed with wildflowers, life bloomed with each floret, but simon felt nothing. he remembers running around these very same fields when he was just a boy, a bright little smile plastered on his face. little curls bouncing as the nymphs ran alongside him, watching over him. gods knew what would happen if lady demeterโ his motherโ were to find out any harm fell upon her baby.
she was always worried. simon was the only child sheโd ever been blessed with. her golden boy. the sun shined down on him and it relieved any stress sheโd have. one little look from his twinkling eyes and her chest would blossomโ just as the wildflowers did in the spring.
simon wonders how it went so wrong. how one argument when he was just 16 years old, could force his mother to permanently scar his face. the once beautiful boy she used to adore, now marred with hideous scars. some days she wouldnโt even look at him. couldnโt stand the sight of himโ wouldnโt spare young simon even a glance.
he still wonders, even as he sits here alone in the meadow, gazing at the tall grass swaying with every breath of the wind. notus made sure every living creature, mobile or not, would feel the gentle breeze against their bodies. even simon, the brush of the wind grazing his masked face. the meadows used to be occupied by the nymphs, dryads and satyrs. creatures brought to life by the gods, basking in the breathtaking beauty that was demeterโs land. fertile and full of life.
simon wonders why heโs alone now. wonders why the little creatures that used to adore and protect him no longer speak to him. heโs never seen the world outside of crete. mother doesnโt allow him to leave, still frets over his safety, even now. even if she doesnโt love him like she used to.
his chest overfills with emotions, throat clogging as he basks in the silence of the nature. so quiet, so painfully lonely. the child of the goddess of life itself, sitting alone in the windy meadows, not a soul in sight.
young, naive, simon, unaware of the stranger watching him from the willow tree, the leaves dancing to the breath of the winds.
it couldโve been his imagination, maybe the loneliness had finally gotten to his psyche, but he couldโve sworn he saw something hopping through the tall grass. standing up on weary legs, simon follows the movement of the grass, cerulean eyes trained on where the little creature was headed. โdonโt be scared,โ he ushered, the faintest of smiles curling on his lips, stepping closer to the forest of willows. the winds strengthened the slightest, almost as if notus himself was warning simon.
*turn around.*
seconds pass and he comes to a abrupt stop, eyes following the little rabbit hopping by someoneโs feet. โit seems youโve met my friend,โ the voice spoke, tone gentle. their voice was easy on the ears. and by the gods, they were absolutely breathtaking. adorned in black fabric and tool. everything about them was such a stark contrast to the nature, to all the life surrounding them both. it was.. refreshing, to say the least. heโd never seen anyone like them. the strange person picks up the white rabbit, petting the creature in their arms. simonโs eyes meet theirs, and he steps back just once.
โnobodyโs supposed to be hereโฆ my mother.. sheโd lose her head if she saw me talking to someone..โ simon spoke, unmissable reticence in his voice. but oh, how he wished he didnโt have to obey. how he wished he could sit and talk to someoneโ *anyone*โ for hours on end. even hauntingly beautiful strangers like the one by the slowly wilting willow tree.
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