a crystal flood — areto & bellamy

[tick 12a / calla]

A    R    E    T    O

"There's a river on our island with a special story." She says softly, bringing her knees to her chest.

Bellamy's relentless, she'll give him that. And Areto may be tentative to share the secrets of her home, especially with a man, but her mother had been a masterful storyteller, and there's a comfort in once again hearing the stories that used to lull her to sleep.

It seems that the boy is eager for any information he can get though, and Areto almost admires his persistence in the face of refusal after refusal. He reminds her of Eriobea, all wide-eyed and wondering and painfully curious.

"It starts with Polyphemus, who was a savage beast from beyond the water. One day while sailing he saw Galatea, the fairest of the Sea-Women, walking along the shoreline of her home."

"He was immediately enamoured by her."

Areto glances over to make sure he's paying attention.

"But Galatea already had a lover - Acis, a child of the Wild-God. When Polyphemus ventured further into the island and came across the two of them lying together, he shook the ground and brought a mountain down to crush Acis out of jealousy."

"Galatea, wrought with grief, summoned a spear of rough coral and slew Polyphemus."

There's vindication there. Her voice rises and her fists shake with it.

"Where the monster's body fell, a trench was created. From under the mountain rock, Acis's blood dripped down into the trench and created a river which flowed to the sea, where their spirit could be reunited with Galatea."

Areto's hand rises and moves through the air, miming out the direction of the river. It's quiet save for the sound of Bellamy and his notepad. His pen scrapes along the page as Areto takes a breath and traces the pattern in the floor tiles.

"We say that when the tide rises and the ocean floods the river, that's them meeting again."

Then her voice turns more teasing, and the smallest smirk tugs at her face, "No one outside the island's ever heard that story before. And if they have, they haven't lived to tell the tale."

With that one story, he's already heard more about the Amazons than any other man will in their lifetime. Lysippe would berate Areto for that, but there's something in Bellamy's posture and in his eyes that doesn't make Areto feel as guilty as she should.

"Is that enough to satiate your curiosity?"

[Kingston Cesaire D3A [Tom]]

Every home has a story; a tale of sorrows, loves, and joys.

Bubby's district partner had become an enigma to him. Rumors spread about the girl from an island off the coast where woman built themselves a home away from Four. Curiosity had always killed him; burnt his skin with the desire to seek out the truth of tales. Always so persistent on where the truth lies and when Areto finally gives in, there's a breath of relief that bubbles from his chest as he smiles with his pen and notepad, watching her with expectant eyes.

"There's a river on our island with a special story." Sitting down with his legs under him, his eyes following the words as Areto continues. The curiosity of tales and legends from other districts building up. In Three, he's not heard a genuine myth since he was three, unable to piece together the story his father told him before his inevitable death. "It starts with Polyphemus, who was a savage beast from beyond the water. One day while sailing he saw Galatea, the fairest of the Sea-Women, walking along the shoreline of her home." Galatea. Polyphemus. Unrecognizable names, but his eyes show the enamored look of listening to the home of Areto Pavalis. Bellamy Scott had always loved stories of the people around them. Never quite knowing how to ask for more of them without seeming like the child he'd lost the day gunpowder turned to fire.

"He was immediately enamoured by her."

Love at first sight. Always apart of major tales to explain how the heart does what it wants to without logic. His mind wonders to Lucas, but stays focused on the tale in front of him. Areto Pavalis reminding him of the childhood he desired years ago. "But Galatea already had a lover - Acis, a child of the Wild-God. When Polyphemus ventured further into the island and came across the two of them lying together, he shook the ground and brought a mountain down to crush Acis out of jealousy." Acis. The Wild-God's child. For a moment, he's lost in the tale, lost in the characters feeling too familiar to him. Galatea. Lucas. Polyphemus. Bellamy. Acis. Sierra. Staring with wide eyes and a curiosity, Bellamy knew he'd never hurt Sierra or Lucas the way Polyphemus had.

Pity.

It's all he feels for Polyphemus.

"Galatea, wrought with grief, summoned a spear of rough coral and slew Polyphemus."

Bellamy's eyes follow Areto's fists, shaking with grief and anger as if she had told this story a hundred times. He's swallowed whole by the tale; drowning in the story of a love so heavy that blood seeps into the cracks. "Where the monster's body fell, a trench was created. From under the mountain rock, Acis's blood dripped down into the trench and created a river which flowed to the sea, where their spirit could be reunited with Galatea." The sweeping of her hand mimicking a river's flow; haunting through his eyes as the pen in his hand scratches across the page of his notepad. Every detail being taken down as if it were his own ears listening.

"We say that when the tide rises and the ocean floods the river, that's them meeting again."

His eyes follow the pattern of the floor, stuck in the tale of a love so strong and so weak. Blood spilled into a river of the path lead by Polyphemus' body. A thought of how Polyphemus would always fix the mistake they'd made by letting love flow back to the sea where Galatea waits. It's a saddening tale of grief, betrayal, and love. One that sits heavy on his chest, reminding him of Lucas and Sierra. Polyphemus will never be happy in the same way as Acis or Galatea. A teasing smirk plays on her lips as Bellamy jots down some notes and feels his own mind which had been lost reconnect to the place they're in. "No one outside the island's ever heard that story before. And if they have, they haven't lived to tell the tale."

Part of him feels guilty for pressuring Areto to tell him of the island and their culture, but the tale's given him a bigger picture to hold onto. Love isn't always meant for people like him. Tragedy is what was destined for him. The day he caught Sierra and Lucas in the same room loving one another in the way he'd never be allowed to have. "Is that enough to satiate your curiosity?" There's a heavy smile on his lips as he closes the notepad, smiling back to Bubby's district partner. The strange islander with a beautiful story and an island full of people who love her.

Bellamy Scott wished he had what Areto Pavalis had.

But that is not the life he's lived.

"Thank you."

Barely a whisper on his lips as he stares at the tiled floor, letting himself be moved by a tale. The grief of what he's done to Lucas and Sierra filling his own chest, but he knew the trench would be made from gunpowder and his blood mixing together. Sierra and Lucas would be happy together without him. Death was permanent, but Areto's words gave him hope to find peace with whatever came for him. Answers is why he came here, but death would be the only reward for the truth.

"The story was beautiful. I-I..." A sorrow fills him, but he brushes it away and give a soft smile. "I wish I could have seen the river." A small smile on his lips as the burning smell of gunpowder fills him more; a reminder of his own failure burning into his skin. Marks of a boy who wanted to know more about the world.

"Uh... just one question."

Curiosity burns through his heart.

"Do you know if Polyphemus died happily knowing his body would bring Galatea to her beloved?"

[tick 12a / calla]

A    R    E    T    O

Areto watches Bellamy digest her story. She's patient with this boy, which is something she can say she's never been before.

He thanks her, and she inclines her head and mentally prepares for the barrage of questions he's obviously working up to. But he takes his time and she waits, resting her chin on her knees as she watches him.

She doesn't know much about Bellamy, but she likes the way that he carries himself and she likes the way that he thinks. Maybe it's because he's not a career - her track record with them is more than abysmal. He's persistent without being detrimental and enthusiastic without being arrogant. He has a scholar's mind and a clever heart and Areto finds herself strangely at ease beside him.

"Do you know if Polyphemus died happily knowing his body would bring Galatea to her beloved?"

Areto blinks. Her eyebrows furrow and she purses her lips. Her mind rejects the question before he's even done asking it.

"Polyphemus was a monster." She says immediately, voice sharp. "He represents the evil in the world."

"He didn't know his death would bring Galatea and Acis back together. All he cared about was taking something that wasn't his."

Areto sees the story as something more akin to vengeance than tragedy. There's a lesson there, sure, every legend carries them, but it's a tale her mother used to tell her and all the other little girls. Be Galatea, she used to say, do not let insults against you go freely. Take your vengeance when it is deserved.

"The sea and the land can't be parted. The ocean and the wild can't be separated. They were always meant to be together. Polyphemus tried to disrupt that fundamental."

The story is a reflection of life just as life is a reflection of the story.

"Nature doesn't take kindly to slights against her."

Areto stretches and shifts against the floor, feeling her spine crack in about twelve different places.

"Did Polyphemus die happy?" She tilts her head, "I don't think so."

Her mother would certainly say no. Deianeira was always quick to blame and berate the men that sailed over from the mainland, even if they were bringing aide. She lived fiercely and unapologetically and never once questioned her prejudice. But Areto knows there's a story there, one her mother won't even tell her. Areto's existence, after all, involved a man's presence, but if she ever did have a father, well, he's long gone now.

"I don't think a creature like that is capable of happiness."