{Ogygia, 21st of June 2006}
As Calypso walked (and I was unceremoniously dragged along), I couldn't help but marvel at the island. Ogygia, she'd called it, I remembered my talk with Odysseus and how he had wished to return to the island in his old age, to help Calypso get off this island but his astralobe had never been finished and he had never been able to come back to Calypso.
He always said that was his second biggest regret, after taking Achilles' armor from Ajax. Remembering that, I hoped that after I left the armor in Ajax's grave, that he would have forgiven Odysseus, hey a name-carrier can hope.
We soon came to a place that would make any self-respecting botanist weep with joy. Flowers of every shape, size, and color imaginable stretched as far as the eye could see. Trees with leaves in shades of green that would make Demeter jealous swayed gently in a breeze I couldn't feel. But what really caught my attention wasn't the plants themselves.
No, what fascinated me was that each plant, from the tiniest blade of grass to the mightiest oak, had a wisp of color inside it. A soul. It was beautiful and a little unnerving, like most things in the world of gods and monsters. Or like that time I caught Mr. D doing yoga in a leopard-print leotard. Some things you just can't unsee.
Calypso knelt beside a patch of dandelions, her fingers gently caressing a petal with a tenderness that made me feel like I was intruding on a private moment. Her voice, soft and melodic, broke through my reverie.
"So, Ozzy, what's your favorite flower?"
The question caught me off guard. I'd been so busy trying to figure out how to get back to my body, defeat Kronos, and save the world that I hadn't given much thought to botany. Shocking, I know.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I've never really thought about it. Is 'the one that doesn't try to eat me' an option?"
Calypso nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Mine are white roses," she said, her fingers beginning to weave the Mist around us, directing it into a nearby rosebush. The air shimmered, and suddenly, a perfect white rose bloomed before our eyes. It was like watching time-lapse photography, only a thousand times cooler.
"They're beautiful when alone, but they truly shine when next to another," Calypso continued, her voice taking on a dreamy quality. "The differences in the stem and the petals only make them better. Don't you think so?"
I watched as the Mist swirled around her fingers, marveling at her control. It was way better than my own Mist manipulation, which I always thought I was pretty good at.
It reminded me of the way I used to manipulate shadows, back when I had a body. You know, the good old days when I wasn't a sentient inkblot.
"I don't really know," I said, trying to keep the melancholy out of my voice. "I've never been a plant guy. But if you think so, then good for you, I guess."
Calypso's smile faltered for a moment, and I saw a flicker of that turquoise loneliness in her soul. Great job, Odysseus. Way to be sensitive to the girl who's been trapped on an island for millennia. Maybe next you can tell her how great it is to have legs.
Before I could apologize, Calypso reached out and plucked the white rose she'd created. The Mist quickly gathered at the end of the stem, healing it as if it had never been cut. She brought it close to her nose, inhaling deeply.
"Hmm, it smells... amazing," she said, twirling the flower in her hand. She lay down next to me (or rather, next to her shadow, which happened to be me at the moment), looking up at the impossibly blue sky. "Want to smell?"
She brought the rose close to my shadowy form. I tried, I really did, but...
"I can't smell anything," I admitted, feeling a twinge of frustration. Add that to the list of things I missed about having a body, up there with not being able to eat pringle can's. A thought suddenly occurred to me.
My pringle cans, my 247 pringle cans, were they all gone? I suddenly felt worse than ever, all that careful 'borrowing' and now I had nothing to show for it.
Breaking me out of my pringles crisis Calypso spoke once more, a streak of dark blue stretching across her soul. "Well, that's disappointing," she said, her voice soft.
"But you can tell me what it smells like," I suggested quickly, not wanting to see that sadness in her soul again. "I wasn't always a shadow. I'm sure I can picture it. You know, use my imagination. That thing that gets demigods in trouble 99% of the time."
Calypso's face brightened, and she brought the rose to her nose once more, inhaling deeply. "How would I describe it?" she mused. "Each one smells different, but this one leans more to the sweet side, like a strawberry, yet citrusy, like a..."
"Like a citrus?" I finished almost sarcastically.
"Exactly," she beamed. "It also has a hint of lemon, a little sour, I guess." She added, her voice dropping to a whisper.
As she spoke, the sun shifted, casting its warm light over the flower. And then something strange happened. I saw the wisp of the flower's soul slowly reach out towards me, following its shadow. Before I could process what was happening, I blinked (or whatever it is shadows do), and suddenly, I was in Calypso's grasp.
Calypso had her eyes closed, moving the flower closer and closer to her nose. I could see every detail of her face now, the curve of her cheekbones, the slight upturn of her nose, the way her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks.
She really was beautiful, in a timeless, ethereal way that made my non-existent heart skip a beat. Which, by the way, is a very odd sensation when you don't have a heart. Or a body. Or anything, really.
"Calypso, stop! I'm in here now," I called out, suddenly very aware of how close I was to her face. I kept on muttering in my head, 'Think of Thalia, think of Thalia, think of Thalia.'
She slowly opened her eyes, a small smirk playing on her lips. For a moment, I thought she was going to put me down. Instead, she started to bring the flower closer to her face again, dangerously close. I wanted to get out of her grasp right ducking now.
But before anything could happen (thank the gods), we were interrupted by the arrival of three beings. They were almost completely invisible, carrying a white gown between them. The gown looked a bit dirty at the edges, as if it had been dropped. Multiple times. By butter-fingered invisible servants.
"Lady Calypso, we brought you your gown, but you weren't in the lake," one of them said, its voice sounding like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. Or like that time I accidentally inhaled helium before a quest briefing. Chiron was not amused.
Their souls, however, revealed their true forms to me. They looked weirdly human, except for the fact that their fingers seemed to be missing bones, which explained the dropped gown.
Their souls were a mix of only two colors: green, and another I had never seen before, something like magenta. Subservience or reverence, I realized. Or maybe they just really, really liked Calypso's fashion sense.
Calypso's cheeks flushed rapidly, a streak of embarrassment coursing through her soul. "Oh yes, I'm sorry," she said, her voice a bit higher than usual. "I decided not to go to the lake in the end and came back to the flower garden instead."
"That's fine, Lady Calypso," another servant said. "Do you wish to be changed?"
The lime green of embarrassment spread even further across Calypso's soul. "No, thanks. I'm fine as is," she said quickly. I silently thanked every god I could think of, including a few I'm pretty sure I made up on the spot.
As all this was happening, I started to wonder how I had changed to the flower in the first place. Concentrating for a second, I thought of Calypso's shadow, and in less time than it takes to say "Holy Cow," I was back in my original position. Shadow sweet shadow.
Suddenly, one of the invisible servants let out a cry that would have done a banshee proud. "Lady Calypso! Your shadow turned to colors! You're being possessed! Quick, guys, stomp on it!"
Oh, great. Just what I needed. A game of "Whack-a-Shadow" with invisible servants. This day just kept getting better and better.
The other two servants, hearing their companion's words, rushed towards me with all the grace of a three-legged rhinoceros on roller skates. But in their haste, disaster struck.
The first one tripped, desperately trying to grab onto another for support. This only resulted in both of them tumbling to the ground in a tangle of invisible limbs. The third, in an attempt to avoid his fallen comrades, ended up tripping over them instead.
It was like watching a slapstick comedy routine performed by invisible actors. If I had a body, I would have been rolling on the ground laughing. As it was, I just sort of... rippled amusedly.
"Guys, please!" Calypso's voice rang out, a mix of exasperation and amusement. "Don't stomp on Ozzy. He's our newest guest."
And just like that, I had a new appreciation for Calypso. Anyone who could stop me from being trampled by well-meaning but clumsy invisible servants was okay in my book. Even if she did insist on calling me Ozzy.
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