"In almost every way, what we're seeing in the daily life and habits of the people of Troy matches up to that of the European team's report. The only incontinence comes when we reach the matter of imports and exports, which was predicted and fortunately fell along the lines of that which we expected." I tapped the board behind me, a chart roughly drawn on a clay tablet. After all, this was 1247 BC, and History would find a creative way to eliminate us completely if we gave the time natives any hint that we weren't your everyday, easygoing Greek olive farmers. Unfortunately, due to our Asian backgrounds, an incredible amount of holographic skin had to be caked on every week or so (another expense we had to take on to be able to perform this mission).
Taehyung nodded from the back of our handmade-hut. He had caught onto the routine quickly enough, and had even started to peddle our olives to and from town, which earned us the money we needed to live, and to buy Taehyung's birthday cake. He thought we'd forgotten, since we had ignored our own, but I sure as hell wasn't going to let his 22rd birthday pass without some celebration.
It was normal for Researchers and a Time-gifted to live like this: I was four years older than my birth certificate claimed, having done investigations like this before; however, this was the longest yet. Though it was only a year, that was a lengthy period to spend living another life. I was glad Taehyung handled the shock of not going home after the first month well.
After all, it had been an entire year since we left 2017. He had insisted on dancing and singing when no Time Natives were around, and I admired his dedication. The muscles required for making marketable olives kept all us fit, so nothing to worry about there...
"Are you ok?" Seo Hyo laughed, poking me with his olive-branch pointer.
"Just thinking..." I murmured.
Taehyung broke the silence, his Greek as soft as birdsong.
"When do we go back?"
An everyday question. Homesick. He, of course, had friends. A family. A life.
It was easy to forget when you work beside someone who seems comfortable that all they want to do is leave.
"Well, I've got to be off. Hecuba'll need someone early this morning."
Max nodded, "We've got a shipment of olives we need to cart to the southern sector. Meet back here by... twenty-one hours?"
"Actually, I'll be back earlier than that. I'll have peeta and 'sweet' wine too; there's another feast tonight and Hecuba letting me keep what's not used."
Everyone grimaced, and that was understandable- Greek wine was not as fine as the stuff they were used to.
A certain deadly peace hung in the air as I made my way up past the shrine of Athena, the kind that comes from the absence of sound, specifically the sounds of war we had become so familiar with. A line of young women dressed in their best chitons, clean and white, waited outside the shrine, carrying baskets of fruit, oils, milk- one even had a goat on a rope. Sacrifices in the hopes that the goddess of wisdom and war would grant them aid.
I loved it.
The feast took longer than I expected, however, and I watched as Hecuba made off with King Praim. One would think thirteen kids was enough, but then again... she would have nineteen by the time this war was over.
I slipped away, quietly taking with me one of the large platters of cheese and bread, tucking a small bottle of wine under my tunic. This would certainly improve everyone's mood, hopefully enough that I could give them the nasty news.
