Word count: 1347 words
If there was one truth that Cadmus was aware of, it was trips to his homeworld and pain went hand-in-hand. It was as if the powers that be snapped him up from the surface of Earth and then unceremoniously plonked him down on his asteroid like it had better things to do. Cadmus groaned as he pushed himself up to his feet after having landed face-first to the dried grass beneath. He gave an airy snort before closing one nostril and blowing out a pebble that had lodged itself in his nose upon impact.
Eugh. Gross.
The eternal was quick to shrug off the agitation, however. A trip to his homeworld was worth the all of the annoyances in the cosmos; that’s how much he loved Cadmus. For a world without life, it felt full of it; it’s poetic silence beckoning forth times when it used to flourish. At least, that’s what Cadmus felt as he got to his feet and began to venture forth to take in his surroundings. There was still a good percentage of his asteroid left unexplored, but he’d acquainted himself enough to approximate his location. When a dirt road leading into an abandoned settlement came into view, Cadmus figured he was near the village where his past life, Laius, called home.
At least he could make amends to the powers that be for dropping him off someplace he knew.
The settlement was a ramshackle collection of huts on stilts scattered about the area; wheezing under the weight of their own structures due to the passage of time. Cadmus felt that if he gently pushed at the one he passed with the flat of his hand, it’d give way in an instant. Despite the boyish mischievousness in him, he thought against it. Certainly, his asteroid wouldn’t be proud of its protector destroying what little it still had.
Cadmus could recognize Laius’s home not just from the location, but also by the telltale sigil of Cadmus carved above the door. It was crudely done, as if in a haste, but it certainly singled out the choppy abode. He’d been there once before, chancing upon some unsavory material that he guessed to be the equivalent of a thousand-year-old dirty magazine, but hadn’t entered again until now. The front stair creaked and sagged under his weight as he took his first step up; hand reflexively tightening on the banister as he expected to lose his balance. Once it didn’t give, Cadmus let out a sigh and climbed the rest of the way up into the hut.
The rank of rotting wood and dust hit his face in a waft as soon as Cadmus pushed the door open. The interior looked the same as it did before save some extensive water damage near the living room area. Splaying a hand over his nose and mouth to keep out the pungent stench, Cadmus entered, eyes scanning the area for anything of interest. Yet, it was the feeling of something that piqued his interest first, not a thing.
A memory, Cadmus thought. I’m not surprised I’d chance upon one here.
Cadmus let the tug lead him all the way to the rear of the hut. As he pulled open the door that led to the back porch, he chagrined as it broke off its wooden hinges. He took a quick sidestep to avoid the panel of wood toppling to the floor with a clatter. A sigh escaped him as he maneuvered around it. So much for avoiding making a mess on his asteroid…
Cadmus started as he became aware of a figure sitting on the porch, staring at him. Laius’s ears perked as a cheeky grin spread on his face. This bewilderment dissipated, however, when Chrysippus, his good friend, rounded the corner from the door and approached him.
Chrysippus dropped into the space beside Laius. “You’re late,” he said, but his tone lacked any frustration that normally followed the statement.
“Sorry, sorry,” Chrysippus said. “Dad had me bringing in wood allll daaaay. I’m pooped.” Laelaps, the branchdog Cadmus had recognized from the previous memory, came bounding up to the boy and threw her weight on him; her tail wagging a mile a minute. Chrysippus chuckled and patted her head, saying, “Hey there, girl. Good to see you.”
“Are you going to be building a new hut?” Laius asked.
Chrysippus shook his head. “It’s to repair Dirce’s home. The floodwaters tore away the eastern side.”
“You mean the woman who lives on the outskirts of the village?” Laius asked. His brow scrunched up as he added, “Why would Pelops help her? She’s provided nothing to the village. I’ve only seen her”—Laius counted his fingers—“four times before, and they were only passing glances. She doesn’t leave her hut.”
Chrysippus shifted as he allowed Laelaps to hop up on the porch and settle herself on his lap. It was a comical thing; for a grown dog, she acted more like a puppy. He scratched behind her ear as he said, “People don’t need a reason to simply exist, Laius.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what?” Chrysippus said. “Dirce has a life, she should also be given the means to live it. Like with a house, food, water. Don’t you think so?”
Laius pursed his lips. “I guess,” he said. “She should give back if she’s given those things for free, though.”
“She speaks in tongues, Laius,” Chrysippus said. “And she’s weak. Physically weak, I mean. She wouldn’t be of much help to anyone.”
“It’s, it’s still weird,” Laius said. “She doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t make anything, doesn’t celebrate any holidays. She’s so different! I don’t think I like her.”
Chrysippus frowned at him. “Well, I’m different,” he said. “Do you not like me, too?”
“Ah, n-no, I didn’t—” Laius shifted uncomfortably. “You’re not different, Chrysippus. You do a lot of things for the village.”
Chrysippus sighed. “Don’t act like you haven’t noticed,” he said. “I don’t look like anyone.”
Upon saying this, it was only now that Cadmus realized that this was indeed true. While not so much in looks or dress, it was his eyes that stood out—they were green. From what Cadmus had seen in his memories, practically everyone on the asteroid was born with red eyes.
Laius worried his bottom lip. “S-sorry,” he said. “I had noticed, I-I just never asked because I thought I’d be touching on something sensitive.”
“It’s fine,” Chrysippus asked. “If you want to know, I can tell you.” Laius quietly nodded at him. “My mother wasn’t of Cadmus. Dad hasn’t told me much about her, but I know her name was Axioche and she was a knight. Not sure of which planet, either. Dad had a relationship with her and got her pregnant with me. After she gave birth to me, she left. She said her duty got in the way of raising a family.”
Laius drew in a breath. While Chrysippus’s story was atypical, what bothered him was how coolly he talked of the topic—as if it were nothing more than mentioning the weather. “T-that means nothing!” Laius cried. “Okay, so your mom wasn’t Cadmean, so what? It doesn’t change who you are, Chrysippus!”
Chrysippus smiled dolefully at Laius. “You’re kind,” he said. “It’s why I’m glad to be your friend, but even you aren’t immune to othering people. Like Dirce. You’re the same as others who look down on those who look different.”
Laius’s voice caught in his throat. “Ah, s-sorry…”
Chrysippus shrugged. “You’ll learn,” he said. “But you know now. That’s a start.”
Laius nodded his head. “Yea,” he said. “Right.”
The scene ended there even though Cadmus knew there was more. He let out a sigh, walking over to seat himself in the same spot Laius once occupied. I wondered if they stayed friends after that, he thought as he pulled his legs to his chest. It was awkward, that’s for sure. If I was Chrysippus then, I’d want to have a long and hard talk with Laius. He… still had a lot to learn.
