Eve of the Gods--NaNo 2011-12 Prep

Background Story

Lyn was on her second Hermes.

The first she got when she was two, when her father went on a work trip to Greece and brought it back for her. She was quick, speaking and walking earlier than any of her siblings, which must have made him think of her as he strolled the marketplaces of Athens. Everyone knew Lyn was his favorite; only something special would do for her.

Mother smashed it when she was twenty-two, throwing it onto the sidewalk with the rest of her things when all hopes of success – the family’s definition, at any rate – died with Lyn’s dreams of higher education. Its destruction hurt worse than the loss of her family home – Mother had never liked her and Father was too much a Mr. Bennet to gainsay her actions – but not as much as the image of her father turning away from her in disappointment.

The second Hermes she bought herself, an exact replica of the one destroyed. The original she put in a box, unable to part with it even in its ruined state. Hermes was her oldest friend, her steadfast comrade, the bearer of a thousand thousand secrets whispered in pain and hope and fear; how could she ever part with any version of him?

“Doctor Who time!” Lyn bustled through the door of her apartment, arms laden with cartons of Chinese food. “Everyone ready?”

There was no reply, but Lyn knew everyone was excited. Doctor Who and Chinese food was a years-long tradition, begun when the world was right and someone loved her. Mother did not approve of television, but Lyn and Father would sneak into the basement every Saturday night – even when the show was no more and finding episodes was almost impossible – and watch it together, mounds of lo mein and chow mein and chicken of all sorts piled in front of them. It was their secret rebellion against Naomi Sinclair.

That rebellion ended as most rebellions do, but Lyn never gave up the tradition. It reminded her too much of happy times, and happy times were too few now to be forgotten. Only now she shared it with plaster, albeit plaster imbued with enough love to make it real in her heart. She tried not to think about how sad that was and, most of the time, she succeeded.

Hermes was not her only statue, but he was her favorite, and so he had pride of place before the third-maybe-fourth-hand television and DVD player she fished out of a dumpster a few years ago. “Heya, Herms,” Lyn said, plopping onto her couch and wincing as she felt one of the springs break beneath her. “Keep the place safe from thieves?”

The statue’s impassive stare turned incredulous. Or, at least, that’s what Lyn’s mind supplied, and she’d gotten pretty good at imagining these conversations between them.

“Of course you did. I shouldn’t have even questioned you.” Lyn shoveled a mouthful of noodles into her mouth. Mother wouldn’t have approved, but that was the point of The Doctor and the General (Tso’s Chicken) nights: it was the one night she could do whatever it was Mother hated. The strength of tradition made it OK. “Your cunning illusion of second-hand glam works a charm.”

Hermes snorted.

“Fine. Second-hand grubby.” Lyn grabbed her remote and flipped on the set. “Any time you want to take it off, though… I’m here now.”

Hermes didn’t reply. Not even in Lyn’s head. The silence between them was deafening.

“Yeah… I know,” Lyn said, eventually, her voice barely above a whisper. Had Hermes been aught but what he was, the space-age sounds of Doctor Who’s intro would have rendered her inaudible. But he was what he was, so there was no point in speaking any louder than her melancholy allowed. “That’d take a miracle. And you’re not the right god for those.”

Hermes stared and, for a second, his sympathy almost felt real.

Times like this, forgetting how sad it was her best friend was made of plaster became really damn hard.