An Apology Note
Calliope and Versi’s room is immaculately appointed, with fine furnishings and trinkets adorning the space and a soft floral scent that lingers constantly in the air. On the vanity sits a bunch of delicate white flowers that the Siren asked Hippofilius to create, and some fresh pomegranate juice that she has painstakingly squeezed, alongside a simple, but beautifully scripted note in her own handwriting:
I am sorry, my love.
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“This morning was a disaster. Not one of us managed to defend ourselves from Lutheria’s influence. Honestly, it is a miracle we didn’t…ah!”
With a sharp intake of breath, Calliope winces. Although Versi’s touch is as gentle as ever, the solution of alcohol and herbs she is using to clean the arrow wound on her lover’s thigh is not; nor is her chiding.
“Stay still. If you had not rushed off to that island yesterday - if you had come to see me and told me what you were doing - I might have told you this would happen.”
The Siren winces again: this time from guilt rather than pain. Although she hadn’t consciously decided not to tell Versi what was happening, it still doesn’t change the fact that she hadn’t. Which wouldn’t have been a problem - had she not been meeting Damon.
The pair hadn’t talked about him since this had all begun... a sort of shared denial, perhaps, that there was anything to talk about. But Calliope didn’t doubt that Versi knew what had transpired - about the conversations and even the letter - and she could tell that she was uneasy.
“I should have told you. I wasn’t trying to hide it, I just… got caught up in my own emotions.” Laying her hand on the Nymph’s hand, Calliope continues: “He doesn’t change anything. My love for you stays as it always will.”
As she goes to squeeze her hand reassuringly, Versi slides it out of her grasp and brings it to the Siren’s chin instead, guiding her to look her in the eyes as she stands from the position she was knelt on the floor.
“I know.” Bending down, the Nymph kisses Calliope, lingering for just a moment before withdrawing with a small smile. She seems to consider something, before saying, gently: “Maltoria. I’ll fetch and brew some for you; and then we will see about getting that wound healed without a scar.”
As Calliope watches the door close shut behind Versi, she sighs slightly: it seems that the conversation about Damon was being put off once more.
They had other things to talk about too. For one, she had wanted to ask Versi about Hezzebazal; what they were like, and what might have happened to them. Calliope could remember little more than the face of the Brass Dragon she had known in her previous life, and felt desperately that she needed to know more.
But her questions would have to wait. She was loathe to disturb the peace between herself and Versi after the events of the past twenty-four hours. So she resolved herself to waiting for a better time.
After all, what does a few days more matter after waiting 500 years?