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STRENGTH ✷ the 𝟏𝟎𝟎K special, ━━━━━ a love that transcends lifetimes. PUBLISHED. . . August 1st, 2024 EDITED . . . To Be Determined
𝕿HEGREEKS BELIEVED IN REBIRTH. It was said that souls were granted the chance of three lives to prove their merit—those that did so were whisked away to Elysium; a place of paradise for the heroic and the virtuous.
Others were not so fortunate, being sent to the Fields of Punishment where their souls were tortured for their cruelties. Though arguably, the Fields of Asphodel were a worse verdict, where unaligned lives were left to forget themselves. Neither option was very merciful. Just, but not merciful.
However, reaching past the so - called bad of the Fields, and past the good of Elysium, presented the great of the luxurious Isles of the Blest. A place which only yielded the best of the best, individuals who had glowed and basked in virtue within every life they had lived.
Except, in order to enter a new life, the next step to an everlasting guerdon, a person must be doused in the waters of the River Lethe to forget any and all memories of their pasts. It was a fundamental rule of rebirth. A necessity.
Which is why, Nabi Cho-hee and Clarisse la Rue have not always donned the same names. Before them came two individuals who bared the same very souls, and two individuals long before that, too. Heroes know better than anyone that history always has a way of repeating itself. And although they may have forgotten, their souls will remember, in due time.
They are on their on her third lives. They will make the most of it.
【 ✸ 】
NABI COULD FEEL THE SANDS that sank in between her toes—or, who she had been, once upon a time—as she meandered along the beaches near a place that tasted like the word home in her mouth. Rather, she had been a he, currently inhabiting his nine year old self, with dark skin reminiscent of celestial bronze and curls of dark brown.
Whilst what he was doing wasn't very special, who he was accompanying to the beaches very much was.
With him, was a boy crafted by the gods. A boy that surpassed celestial bronze, instead made of adamantine, yet glowed golden with his blonde locks of hair, a grin of white pearls strung together. Everything about him, from the plump bow of his lips; a puffed up chest of pride; his nose an aristocratic arrow, had screamed of glory that he would soon snag with calloused hands from people that would later become his own.
"Hurry, Patroclus!" The golden boy laughed as he ran ahead, the sound of Apollo's harp, "Before my mother gets too sullen and steals away the shells!"
