Phobia ☤ Alexios

eighteen: and the streets run red

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PLAGUE RAVISHES ATHENS. Threatening to tear apart everything Perikles has worked for. The air is heavy with a foul stench –burning flesh, bile, and other excrements. A haze lingers over the city, blocking much of the sunlight from reaching the streets. A once vibrant city is laid low by disease and looks more like the underworld.

Hippokrates is burning the diseased corpses in hopes to prevent the spread, and radicals threaten him for the perceived desecration. He assures Irene there is nothing she can do to help –this plague is the result of the gods' wrath; he is sure of it.

As they near Perikles' villa, the throng of people grows thicker and at their head is Kleon the Everyman. "Kleon," Irene hisses, hands balling into fists at her side. It only takes a second of deliberation for her to begin marching toward the demagogue spurring on the disgruntled rabble of Athenian citizens. Alexios reaches out –seizing her wrist before she does anything rash. Now is not the time to pick a fight with Perikles' adversary, especially when he heads a mob. The fire in her eyes does not die down and the Eagle Bearer begins to wonder what had transpired between the two for such vivid hatred to linger in the princess' stormy gaze.

"Alexios, you're back!" A small voice calls. They both turn to find Phoibe running toward them –she stops, bouncing on her feet with a smile. "Got to run! See you at Aspasia's!"

"Wait!" Alexios calls, but Phoibe is already gone. Irene frowns. Athens is not safe for children to run about anymore. She glances up at the Eagle Bearer and can tell he worries for the girl, too –even if he tries hiding it. Irene's hand brushes over his arm –when he shifts his attention to her, she nods toward the Athenian leader's home. They would be able to find answers there.

Sentries allow them passage into the villa, no longer wary about the misthios accompanying the princess. Alkibiades is pacing outside the home's entrance –for the most part, he's always able to keep a blithe outlook, but the city's gloom and sickness weigh heavily on him. "Allie?" He turns, surprised to see Irene. By now he figured she and Alexios would be halfway across the Aegean –he'd hoped that's where'd they be– far away from a foundering city.

"You've returned, sweetling," he says, though his voice doesn't hold the same charm it usually does. Alkibiades steps aside and motions them both inside. "Aspasia will want to speak with you." It troubles Irene to see him in such a despairing mood, but she nods and follows Alexios into the villa.

The villa has turned into a safe harbor –Aristophanes, Euripides, and Protagoras are among those present. "Oh, Irene," Aspasia cries and the two women embrace. The hetaera had nearly given up hope that she and the Eagle Bearer would return after her letters had gone unanswered. Irene glances around at those gathered within the courtyard and solar, but Athens' leader is not among them. She had hoped to speak with him about the war and the Cult. "Perikles?" The princess questions softly.

"Is dying," Aspasia chokes –suddenly Alkibiades grim guise made sense too. "He won't see me or Hippokrates." Perikles avoids her, as to spare himself from listening to her worry about his wellbeing. He refuses visits from Hippokrates too –claiming the physician's skills are better served helping the people of Athens than a dying old man. The hetaera turns to the Eagle Bearer. "Alexios, he respects you. Would you see he receives his medicine?" She asks, holding out a small vial filled with a thin brown liquid.

Alexios takes the tonic and nods before leaving to seek out the leader. Irene steps into the courtyard and looks up at the dusky air –she's never seen Athens in this state before. By the look of it, the city will still be suffering for many months to come. "How long has it been like this?"