Sugar (Harry Styles)

8.

There are some people that are fabulous storytellers. They have that innate ability to change tones and mimic voices. They make you feel like you are in the story, following along to every twist and turn. You can picture the scenery, smell the surroundings. There is nothing quite like it. Daphne could’ve been talking about lipstick and nail polish and Harry would listen all day. 

Harry smiled at Daphne, his eyes darting between her face and their fingers playing together in the grass. He was almost distracted by the touching, drunk off the soft tracing of her fingers along his palm and fingertips.

“I’ll start with Orpheus,” She said sweetly, a smile playing on her lips as she looked up at Harry. “You would like him,” she told quietly, “He was a musician.”

Harry was already intrigued. He wasn’t very well read about Greek Mythology and the name didn’t really ring a bell to him but he was excited nonetheless. He let his long fingers reach out and rub against her own, smiling as they twisted together before sliding out from his grasp, teasing him before coming back.

“Orpheus was a master musician, and a lovely poet. It was said that was given his first lyre by Apollo himself.” She paused and realized that Harry didn’t know who Apollo might be, “He was the God of many things: music, truth, healing, poetry… Oh, he’s amazing.” She said dreamily before catching Harry’s eyes and smiling at the smirk he wore.

“Orpheus was so wonderful at what he did it was said that even nature was swayed by his melody and rhyme. The rocks would dance and the trees would sway. The birds would sing along hoping to create some beautiful duet with him just to say that they had the chance. Wild animals would calm at his tone, charmed by his wit.” Daphne’s voice was sweet, delicate, but so strong her own belief in this story more than enough for Harry to accept it as truth.

“Well, Orpheus fell in love with one of Apollo’s daughters, Eurydice. She was beautiful and charming, a creature beyond compare. Oh he was so in love with her, Harry. Who wouldn’t be? She was everything to him.”

Harry listened, finding that he was connecting more to this Orpheus character than ever before. He understood. He smiled at her, watching as her face changed into something dreaming, almost wishing for someone to fall for her the way that she explained. He let his fingers run over her wrists, allowing himself to trace over the lines in her skin with care.

“They married and Orpheus played such music that day. He played the happiest songs he could think of. His lips sung out the deepest of promises, vows of undying love and adoration. He watched as his new wife danced in a meadow. Tall grass swaying to each note from his lyre. The sun was bright and the day was good. It was the kind of day that Orpheus and Eurydice never wanted to end.”

Daphne’s voice stopped, her lips pulling into a frown after she thought about what came next in her story. She looked up at Harry, her gray eyes searching his.

“They were so happy,” she said quietly. “He was so in love. They were so in love.”

“What happened?” Harry asked cautiously, his fingers finding the spaces between Daphne’s and lacing them together carefully.

“Eurydice decided to go back in the meadow one day,” She said quietly.

“Because it made her happy…” Harry breathed. He realized now that Daphne’s story about  people coming back to the things that made them happy was actually based in something. It wasn’t just a silly saying, she truly believed it.

“Yes,” Daphne said with a smile, relieved that he was understanding and listening actively to her story. “A satyr found her. A satyr is kinda like a goat like creature, part human, part goat. They are nature creatures and are often fond of nymphs. Well this satyr mistook Eurydice as one and longed to dance with her. Eurydice was frightened by the creature and began to run.”