Orphic || Tom Riddle

𝖆𝖈𝖙 𝕴

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The probably most tiring behaviour in this world was the nymphs'; they'd grown sick of the beauty the forest was serving them, they couldn't see no green anymore, neither could they look at the browns of the stems and smile. Their constant state of deep melancholy was exhausting to bear, expecially because it was sucking one down in the abyss of their dull cheerlessness.

The nymph with the hind legs of a deer and antlers on her petite head had grown disgusted with their joyless bearing; she was sick of dancing alone and singing arias instead of canons, weaving flower crowns for others and receiving not one to decorate her cream coloured antlers, to get a laugh at animals' expenses instead of her mutuals' because deers'd react more to her nowadays then those of her kind who weren't even spending her tired smiles anymore.

[...]

How fortunate that the nymph remembered a myth she'd heard one day: There should exist a berry that spends endless joy, just as light and sweet as its taste. [...]

Even though the nymph was desperate to find the berry and give it to the others so they could share the fruit and the glee it was said to bring, it took her long to find even the slightest trace of it. However, when she finally did, nothing could hold her back anymore, not the empty words of the other nymphs nor their gloomy glances, not the all too bad weather and no affliction of this world.

[...] When the nymph finally reached the endless pond that was believed to be the home of those, who are realising the words of non other than joy itself, she launched herself on the ground, arms stretched out, fingers nearly touching the water and she started recitating the ancient words which had been passed down to her, her tongue rolling and clicking like she had practiced for so long.

[...]

It felt like an eternity until there were no magical syllables to be uttered anymore and another one in which the silence tried to speak to her, to tell her its tales but failed as the silence isn't meant to shar but to preserve.

[...]

The nymph was tempted to move but resisted the urge as she didn't want to destroy her chance of receiving the fruit of joy. She had done right at that - finally the water started to seethe, the air frizzled and burning droplets touched her soft skin when the liquid foamed over.

In glee, the nymph rose her gaze, only to stop in her movement - this wasn't what she had expected to be the messenger of joy.

A dark creature had risen.

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"Have you already heard? A new man is in town."

"There are always new people, I beg you - we're in Vienna."

"But the people are talking about him-"

"Do I look as if I'd care?"

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