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Apr. 17th, 2017 12:40 am
we are champions of red wine.
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centor
[ some might call pelion lonely, rustic, secluded. perhaps all of them in turn were true at one point, but hardly ever all at once. secluded, yes, but not lonely. (there were, after all, no shortage of heroes in those days.) lonely, once, when there was nothing left to teach and no burgeoning demigods left to learn. (that, of course, did not last. and there was always one someone when there was no one else.) rustic, naturally, as were the times. but the times have changed, and so too has pelion. chiron himself, not quite so much. the years are kinder to sons of gods. nevertheless, pelion is still his home, to which he makes an annual pilgrimage, despite the rise of modern culture from the ashes of his once great ancient civilization. the most deadly creatures left in these woods now are tourists, snapping photos and murmuring amongst themselves if the myths are true. it would be too easy to prove them right, though it might just frighten them to death. mortals are ever so frail. ]
[ his cave is the only thing that hasn't changed entirely over the last thousand years or so. he's a traditionalist; redecorating hasn't ever felt necessary (though some would argue it was never decorated in the first place). there are memories here, too, that would be lost to time if not for his rigid dedication to the past. he can still recall each and every hero who spent time under his tutelage — achilles, the famed son of peleus, with patroclus beside him; heracles, depending on the story being told (it's been so long there's little point trying to correct anyone anymore); perseus, jason, theseus, and so many others. all with such potential, all doomed to meet the same fate. wisdom comes with age, after all, an age none of them lived to see. there was only so much chiron could teach them; he couldn't choose their paths for them. ]
[ he runs a hand along the mouth of the cave entrance, still damp from the storm. there is heartache in this place, only one such that a being as himself could understand, but there is pride in it, too. whatever the result of his work may have been, no lesson of his could have saved any of them. it's better to think of what they did than how they died. he glances upward to the clouds above that are only just now starting to clear as they give way to the first moments of twilight. it will be a good night to see the stars. ]
[ he shouldn't be surprised by the vines that crawl over the stone beneath his hand, breaking him out of his thoughts, nor by the sweet scent of fruit, but he is. somehow, even after all this time, it's always a surprise. a hint of a smile tugs at his lips and he turns his head over his shoulder. ]
Dio. [ too familiar, perhaps, for the length of time that's passed since they last saw each other. but it's always easy (too easy) to fall back into rhythm they've always shared. and for all of chiron's wisdom, he's never been able to fully understand it, why. he thinks, quite possibly, it's the one thing in life he doesn't need to understand. it is what it is, with dionysus. it always has been. ]
[ his cave is the only thing that hasn't changed entirely over the last thousand years or so. he's a traditionalist; redecorating hasn't ever felt necessary (though some would argue it was never decorated in the first place). there are memories here, too, that would be lost to time if not for his rigid dedication to the past. he can still recall each and every hero who spent time under his tutelage — achilles, the famed son of peleus, with patroclus beside him; heracles, depending on the story being told (it's been so long there's little point trying to correct anyone anymore); perseus, jason, theseus, and so many others. all with such potential, all doomed to meet the same fate. wisdom comes with age, after all, an age none of them lived to see. there was only so much chiron could teach them; he couldn't choose their paths for them. ]
[ he runs a hand along the mouth of the cave entrance, still damp from the storm. there is heartache in this place, only one such that a being as himself could understand, but there is pride in it, too. whatever the result of his work may have been, no lesson of his could have saved any of them. it's better to think of what they did than how they died. he glances upward to the clouds above that are only just now starting to clear as they give way to the first moments of twilight. it will be a good night to see the stars. ]
[ he shouldn't be surprised by the vines that crawl over the stone beneath his hand, breaking him out of his thoughts, nor by the sweet scent of fruit, but he is. somehow, even after all this time, it's always a surprise. a hint of a smile tugs at his lips and he turns his head over his shoulder. ]
Dio. [ too familiar, perhaps, for the length of time that's passed since they last saw each other. but it's always easy (too easy) to fall back into rhythm they've always shared. and for all of chiron's wisdom, he's never been able to fully understand it, why. he thinks, quite possibly, it's the one thing in life he doesn't need to understand. it is what it is, with dionysus. it always has been. ]
