Firefly Glen the groan of mortal terror

it was no such thing! <3

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the boy spoke his name simply in return, his first name cataloging itself into cesario's mind but it was his middle name 'benvolio' that caught the titan's interest. it was a name that the butcher recognized to his utter dismay. it was the name from one of his mother's tales. the one she'd called romeo & juliet easily her favorite he'd assumed for how oft she recited it to him. for a moment this struck the titan's intrigue, but it was fleeting. he did not ask the boy if he knew of it because it was inconsequential in the end. cypress told him of his missing brother, offering him a description. “i'll keep my eye out,” cesario vowed knowing that he would stick to it. he knew what it was like to have lost someone after all. it was a feeling of kinship that spurred the titan to do it: as opposed to a gesture of kindness. the boy asked him of juno and for a small moment of utter weakness cesario felt his breath catch in his throat. he struggled for that fleeting second, swallowing harsher than he'd meant to. who knew that love the very thing he had once spurned and scoffed at would be his downfall? his utter destruction. the titan felt that he should have been humiliated: that a small woman had entangled him so completely around her paw, had reached within the strong confines of his chest and seized his black heart in her fist.

“she is of a small adult stature, her fur a mixture of ivory and creams with golden eyes so bright and fierce they put the sun to shame.” cesario did not do juno justice with his description of her. yet, the butcher was no poet. he lacked his mother's lackadaisical talent to string together beautiful words. “the man that might be with her is smaller than me with a coat the color of fog and white eyes,” though the man who had stolen juno away was best described as a specter he was very real but soon, oh so soon he would join the ranks of the dead but not before cesario made him writhe in agony and torture. he would beg the titan for death which would come slow. craven had crossed the wrong king and regret would come before the mercy of death. “her children ...our children...i don't know how many of them there would be, or what they look like,” though it was painful to consider he added quietly, “i don't know if the man who took my juno would have let them live.” it seemed like the only logical bargaining chip(s) in cesario's mind but he had to think like a madman to catch one and he knew there wasn't anything craven wouldn't do to spite him.

yet their conversation circled around to the odyssey, having apparently, caught the boy's interest. or at the very least, curiosity. “the odyssey is a tale my mother used to tell me when i was a boy. one of the many. odysseus is the hero of the story, and polyphemus is the villain that heroic odysseus has to outsmart. polyphemus was a cyclops. a son of the sea god, poseidon. odysseus got trapped in polyphemus' lair — he tricked the cyclops whom he'd blinded by saying that he was nobody as he hid behind a sheep when the cyclops let them out to the pasture to graze to free himself. i've deduced that cyclops aren't very smart.” he added the last part dryly, enunciating that he didn't put much stock into her whimsical stories as told by the way he used lazy storytelling to explain the gist of the tale to the boy.

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