worthallthis | The Last Voyages: IC Inbox

"There is more to the story," he assures him. "Gilgamesh's story doesn't end there. But many stories are like that, B. I like it. They spent many years together, fighting and working together. Having...adventures. And yes, there was death, but there always is. If I had ended the story to you before they met Ishtar, it wouldn't change their fate."

He gestures to the board. "But, if you start, I will tell you another story with a happy ending."

"It's a story. It can be however you want."

That comes out like a grumble, but he moves a pawn out, anyway. Using the metal hand, since the flesh one is still occupied with Vesta. He may not entirely subscribe to the idea that just because a tale went one way one time, it always has to go that way.

Real life has enough death in it. Stories should be better than that.

"Once, there was a man named Odysseus. He was trying to return home to his wife and child after a long war, but he was met with obstacles along the way. Some were his own fault, but some were direct interference by the gods. Different gods than Gilgamesh knew.

"After a particularly harrowing encounter with fruit, the crew comes across an island where they capture wild goats to eat. They venture to the mainland, finding a cave with everything they need. Goats, milk, cheese, enough to last them for their trip."

He moves his pawn to meet the other head on.

"They told Odysseus to take what he could and leave, but he refused, choosing to linger. But, because of that, he was met by the Cyclops Polyphemus, who returned to his cave." There, Godric pauses, gauging his interest.

This is already starting off better than the last story. "A harrowing encounter with fruit." One corner of his mouth tilts up. "Was it oranges."

This is probably not a joke Godric will get, because he made it with Misty, but it amuses B at least. (He does not like oranges. Or orange flavored anything.) He continues his previous strategy of making a staggered defensive line of pawns, with a second one beside the first.

Godric takes a more aggressive approach this time, pulling out his knight early. He doesn't understand the reference, though, and looks up, bemused, as he continues.

"No. Lotus fruit." He inspects the board serenely. "Well, Polyphemus, son of Poseidon, was not pleased to see the humans in his cave. He seemed friendly at first, but soon turned hostile, devouring two of Odysseus' men and imprisoning the rest inside of the cave by a large rock that only he could move.

"Of course, Odysseus was angry, but he knew that he could not kill Polyphemus inside the cave, or they would remain trapped behind the rock. So he had to devise a plan. He waited until the Cyclops was outside and fashioned a spear out of a wooden staff."

B does't explain, not today anyway. There's a story to follow. He continues sedately moving another pawn out, though he doesn't put the next one directly in the knight's path, at least.

Since the first question was allowed, he asks another, "Why did he start off friendly? If he's so big. And eats people." Seems like a waste of time.

"It was a ruse," he explains. "He wanted to know where the rest of his men were. He asked about his ship and Odysseus knew he was being fooled, so he lied to him. Polyphemus knew the lie when he heard it and grew angry."

Godric swings another pawn out on the edge of the board, trying to free his bishop.

"Now, Odysseus had brought with him to the land a bit of fine wine that had been gifted to him. Polyphemus asked him his name and, cleverly, Odysseus agreed to answer if they drank together. But, he was not truthful. He cleverly told the Cyclops that his name was 'Nobody.' Polyphemus drank the wine, too foolish to realize the potency, and eventually fell asleep, too intoxicated to stay upright.

"Odysseus and his men took the sharpened spear and stabbed the Cyclops in the eye. Of course, Polyphemus woke and cried out, attracting his equally terrifying neighbors."

B matches and blocks that pawn. "Nobody," he repeats thoughtfully. If only he could get away with that. It seems like an entirely unobjectionable title, from inside, but he's pretty sure everyone else would complain about it.

"Mm, there was a reason for it." He lets the bishop loose, taking it across the board, out of reach of the pawns, but aiming directly at his knight.

"When the neighbors came, they asked what had happened. He replies 'Nobody is trying to kill me' and they think him simply ill. They advise him to pray to their father, Poseidon, and left him alone. Polyphemus, blinded now, lifted the rock from the entrance and outstretched his arms across it, hoping to catch anyone who escapes."

Godric lifts his arms, demonstrating with a smile. "Odysseus' plan had worked, but he still needed a way to get out of the cave without being touched or caught by Polyphemus."

Apparently the cyclops' neighbors are pretty dumb, to think the guy blinded himself-- but then again, so is the cyclops himself for falling for a really stupid name. They could have used an asset around to handle things like this for them.

"Guessing he came up with one?" B moves a pawn out to block the bishop, though the bishop could take the pawn if Godric wanted to.

He does take that pawn, setting it aside as he continues his story.

"Of course he does. He was a man who frequently had plans." He leans forward, elbows on the table, fingers linked together, chin on his hands.

"He and the other men hid underneath the sheep as they were let out of the cave and to graze in the fields. Polyphemus realized he had been tricked after it was too late."

"He knew he had people hiding in his cave. And he let the sheep out anyway. Polyphemus is an idiot," B states firmly, and takes the bishop with his knight, which might in fact be why he sacrificed that pawn. "Good for Odysseus, though."

He tsks softly, but he spies an opportunity for his rook to jump forward, taking a pawn in front of him.

"Polyphemus might have been easily tricked, but Odysseus had a large ego. Just before departing, he called out, telling the Cyclops his real name as a gloat. Polyphemus calls out to his father, Poseidon, god of the sea, and asks him to take revenge on Odysseus."

That just means the same-side rook on B's end gets to take that rook, too. B makes a derisive sort of snort at Odysseus. "Gloating never gets you anywhere." Pride doesn't, in general, in his experience. (But then, his experience is a little out of the ordinary.)

He's so wrapped up in his story that he doesn't notice it's his turn again until he sees B take his rook. Ah well, he's more interested in this.

He moves his pawn, advancing on that rook.

"Odysseus had many adventures on his way to his wife and child," he tells him. "But the main theme of them all is that Odysseus is very clever, and very arrogant."

B pops his rook one space closer to Godric's side, right next to the pawn. Either move or it lose it, buddy. "Not a great combination. Sounds like somebody who gets himself into a lot of trouble."

He seems to hesitate over the pawn, but moves his remaining knight instead.

"Of course he did. It would not be an interesting story if he was well behaved and made intelligent decisions," he points out.

Bye-bye pawn. Even if that results in the knight taking the rook. He made the threat, he's gonna follow through on it. "It could be," B points out, maybe with a hint of a smile. "Sometimes bad things just happen and someone has to get through them."

He's read a lot of children's books, okay.

He sacrifices the pawn and takes the rook. A little petty revenge in the name of having fun.

"Mm, is that true?" He rests his hands in his lap.

"Perhaps you should start telling the stories."

Godric gets a skeptical look at his right cheek. "You don't want to listen to me. Start and stop my way through that much talking." He's aware of how he sounds, chopping his sentences up into pieces, abrupt and jerky. That's no way to tell a story.

"Don't make decisions for me," he tells him softly. "I enjoy listening to you, B. Please?"

He doesn't try to meet his eyes, but instead focuses on the board.

Ugh fine. B rifles through his mental collection of stories from the shelf behind him, and decides on: "Stand back, said the elephant. I'm going to sneeze. I hate to alarm you, but I don't wish to harm you, so you'd better stand back, I'm going to sneeze."

He might chop pieces of out the recitation, because it seems like a very long poem to recite. But he does have it memorized, and recitation is not exactly an unfamiliar passtime for the first half of the twentieth century. Plus, the rhyming rhythm makes it easier to say.

It's a decidedly silly poem, though. He hopes Godric appreciates what he does for him.

Another pawn takes the knight. That defensive line is there for a reason.

Godric absolutely appreciates it and can't help but keep a smile on his face at it. It's a very silly rhyme with a very silly scheme and there's something that's just so perfect about it.

He's not even bothering with the game much any longer. B can have his knight; he got his revenge anyway. He moves a remaining bishop out, though cautious about those dangerous pawns.

When B's done, he grins. "That was perfect," he tells him. "Thank you."

The story, the poem, is long enough, and he's had to take a couple minute-long breaks in the middle-- that by the time he's done they've practically finished up the game. B is closing in on Godric's king a second time, mostly because he's good at doing multiple things at once, and Godric doesn't seem to care about winning.

"It's on the shelf," he says, and tilts his head at the brightly colored collection of kids books. "It's cute."

"Cute?" he laughs. "I hear that word quite often around here."

He doesn't yield quite as easily this time, moving his pieces defensively to see how long he can last.

"Have you read Aesop's fables?"

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