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❝ marcel is dead. ❞
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IT IS A VERY GREEK AND PROFOUND IDEA. Beauty is terror, Cami had said. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?
Euripides speaks of the Maenads; head thrown back, eyes to the stars, more like deer than human being. To be absolutely free! One is quite capable, of course, of working out these destructive passions in more vulgar and less efficient ways. But how glorious to release them in a single burst. To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods during the dead of night, with no more awareness of morality than an animal. These are powerful mysteries.
The bellowing of bulls. Spring of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; we let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones, and then spit us out reborn. Nearly everyone in this godforsaken city has done it.
Music ricocheted off the walls as Enola moved swiftly through the crowd. She had her hands on her baby bump as if protecting it from the mass of stiff bodies celebrating the life of their old friend. Though she admittedly didn't know half of the people in this room. All she knew is that it was tradition to throw a big party after someone dies. And so she stormed into the kitchen of Rousseau's with a deep scowl on her face.
"We cannot run out of whiskey at an Irish wake. It is, like, the one rule." Enola warned the caterers before turning to find Elijah leaning against the doorway. "Whiskey is important."
"Whiskey is important," Elijah agreed. "I am certain Camille would have appreciated all of this."
"Yeah?" Enola smiled softly.
"Yeah," Elijah nodded confidently.
Enola looked out into the crowd of people in search of Klaus. She found him staring down at the memorial set up with sad eyes. He had been more silent than usual. Though she supposed he had a good reason to be. His best friend was murdered in cold blood. And even though they were able to kill the murderer, nothing would bring his friend back.
"He is going to be okay," Enola breathed out.
"He will do as he always does," Elijah sighed, eyeing Klaus sadly. "Ignore his feelings until they eventually go away."
