Work Text:
epic i
It’s an old song.
The first time he sings it, Orpheus believes in everything.
He tells her he can sing them home again.
He just has to keep walking.
Fate echoes cruelly, whistling back at him through the wind.
Spring flowers bloom beneath his feet.
When he turns, she smiles.
epic ii
It’s a sad song.
When he sings it this time, all he wants is for her to come home.
He holds her, grasping her hand, kissing the top of her head. She kisses his shoulder when she tells him to finish the song.
He doesn’t look up.
Instead, he descends, pries the stones open with only his voice until they weep.
He finds her every time.
Every time he walks, and every time he doubts.
His song never saves either of them.
In the end, he does what he always does.
Orpheus turns around.
epic iii
It’s a love song.
Orpheus sings one last time, descending alone.
“It’s you,” Eurydice says.
“It’s me,” Orpheus sighs.
“Orpheus,” Eurydice exhales.
You’re early.
“Eurydice,” he hums.
I missed you.
“Go back,” she begs.
He doesn’t want to lose her again, but he will forget her if he stays here. He will forget himself, forget his song, forget the world.
He cups her face in his hands.
“I’ll find you.”
She reaches up, tucking a red flower into his hand.
“Finish it,” Eurydice tells him, her voice breaking.
He kisses her one more time, closing his eyes.
He opens them to Hermes nodding at him across the station.
Orpheus fumbles for a match, watching a girl light a candle.
we raise our cups
The song was written long ago.
Her candle lit, Eurydice kneels, cradling a carnation in her hands.
Spring has come again.
This time, she thinks.
This time.