The search for Mirth

[zalena]

Thalia has been living alone so long that she's almost forgotten that Good Cheer is almost always found in the company of others. She still has the gift, even if it takes a few drinks to prime the well of positive feelings. She fears her good cheer will proove nothing but false comfort. She worries she will look ridiculous to the youthful initiates at the bar. These things have brought a bitter tinge of self-mockery to her toasts, a rueful regret to her laughter. She dreads being pitied, so she spends increasing amounts of time on her own, thinking perhaps she should apply to become a Muse. No one expects the Muse of History, or Tragic Poetry to be the life of the party.

Aglaia wants to reunite the Graces. She's been dieting in the hopes she will be able to fit into the clothes of their youth. She stuffs herself into exercise clothes a few sizes too small, stretching across her ample rear, cutting into the flesh around her waist. Her shirt rides up revealing more than a wobble. She's become fixated on Splendor at a size 6, and has abandoned any attempt at adorning herself at her current shape and size. The jewels, scarfs, and body paints have been put away in favor of exercise bikes and the sludgy shakes of fad diets. She wishes she were a Siren. She would like men to drown in desire for her, but she can't imagine anyone would want Splendor with an additional 10-20 pounds.

There is only one problem with Aglaia's reunion plan. The previous Euphrosyne has succumbed to mortality and forgotten her previous existence as a Grace. She works as a reference librarian in a small civic library. A single woman with proverbial cats, she knits in her free time, receiving no male callers. Thalia privately believes that perhaps Euphrosyne might have been better suited to be a Fate, and pities her forgetfulness. What is the use of being like gods if one can no longer remember it? But Aglaia secretly envies Euphrosyne's oblivion and her thin, brittle, body. If it weren't for the lack of men, she'd gladly trade lives.

So, Aglaia has proposes a new candidate for Eurphrosyne. She is tall, has long red hair, and the outgoing personality ideal for Mirth. At first Thalia is intrigued by her charisma and experience. She can keep up with the other two graces, matching them drink for drink. Her voice easily projects across the room, she has no problem attracting interest.

"Perhaps this is what we've been missing all along," Thalia muses. "The last Eurphosyne was too timid to be able to bring this kind of vitality to her role."

Aglaia is clearly enamoured with the new candidate, falling under the spell of her swashbuckling tales, admiring her athletic form. But as the evening passes Thalia is not so sure. There is an arrogance to the candidate's mirth, an ungenerous quality, as though she'd spent to long gazing into Narcissus' pool. All conversations revolve around her opinions and personality. Even in the company of Good Cheer, her laughter is forced and braying. It is not contagious. Instead, Thalia feels herself withdrawing and contemplating life as a Muse, again. No, this new woman cannot fill the role of Euphrosyne. Thalia feels emptied of Good Cheer in her presence. And despite her obvious affection, Aglaia looks bloated and frumpy next to the woman's flamboyance.

Going home that evening, Thalia takes one last look at the bar and wonders if her time as a Grace is finished. Maybe it isn't the new woman's inappropriateness for Euphrosyne's role. Maybe it's Thalia's inability to fulfill her own. Exhausted, she goes home alone, brushing off the propostions of the kitchen staff smoking in the alley.

Comments

[ashfae.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is fabulous. I really like it.