Do you know the smell of heat, the warmth it brings? Or the fresh dew of a spring morning? Do you know the beauty of a lit-up town at night while it snows? There is a strange, beautiful quality to all of these things.
We can attach each one to a memory. In the memory, we remember these little details, whether it is a good moment or a bad one.
I am Maybet, and I am the god of muses. I have a story to tell everyone. Will you listen? It will break your heart and trap your tears. Listen to this tale of memory, love and regret.
My brother, Mya, is the god of balances. He holds the job of judge among us gods and goddesses. This can be a thankless duty at times, and now a cursed one.
Mya watches the stage and suffers. He slumps, staring at the floor. A single tear slides from his right eye. His sad eyes slowly move, to rest on a beautiful performer singing an opera. That woman singing a most heartbreaking tune is his love.
I will never understand why he watches her perform. He once begged me on his hands and knees, "Please find a way to not let her truly forget me."
So, I created this opera.
"I only wish I could do more for you, Mya." Maybet closes his eyes slowly. What more can he do, though?
A sinister male voice hisses from behind him. "Of course you do, Brother Dear!"
Maybet tenses as a rough hand swipes across the back of his head. An overwhelming feeling of despair inflicts the room, creating a heavy atmosphere.
The woman on stage shivers, but continues performing.
Maybet frowns, but quickly replaces it with a smile. "Lecos, my brother."
Lecos smirks, stretching his mouth from ear to ear, as he wanders behind their seats. "Brother, you must know this is his punishment from me. He should not have ruled against me, for I am just."
Maybet lifts his eyebrows, tilting his head. He frowns. "I feel sorry for you."
Lecos snorts and his bottom lip quivers "Well, then, if you truly feel sorry for me, destroy this pitiful opera." He blinks his eyes while smiling viciously.
Maybet turns his head and gives Lecos a long look. "You might have had a chance for a different judgment, that is if you had a better reputation and did not try to sway the case in your direction."
Lecos snarls, "Brother, what are you saying? I am just. I have always been a just man." As Lecos speaks, the stage and Mya freeze.
Maybet glances around as the sudden silence hits. "Justice isn't cruelty. What you did can never return them to the way they were. Yet you are so happy and prideful at what you have achieved. He is your brother, too. All he gets in return is a rebuke of the truth."
Lecos frowns as his forehead wrinkles. "But she is a human. Humans are weak and frail. He is a god that lives forever." He smirks. "I would call this a small mercy."
"Your mercy is different from anyone else's. I won't let you take this away from him!" Maybet yells. "If you try, I will inflict fear and pain. I can make you believe in the shadows of the night. My skills can cause your heart rate to accelerate. Your eyes will play tricks on you. Your mind will burn. Your hands will itch for the need of a pen or a feather. If nothing can be found, your blood and the tips of your fingers will do. You will be driven to absolute madness."
Lecos's eyes have a sudden wideness to them. "Oh, Brother, but I am not a simple mortal. How can those things be?" He smiles.
"I am inspiration." Maybet stands as he pats his chest. "I inspire all things, even gods. I am the god of muses, of art, poetry, stories, and figments of the imagination."
Lecos chuckles before speaking, "How enticing! You make your role more than what it is."
"Have you ever seen someone consumed by creative passion, by inspiration to the point of physical madness?" Maybet speaks passionately.
Lecos furrows his brow. "Well, no."
"Let me tell you how horrific it can be. Some are born with great amounts of inspiration, then sometimes all it takes is a little push. Take the composer of this opera. All I did was a whisper in his ear to taunt his mind." Maybet grins.
Before Lecos could open his mouth, Maybet opens his. "Imagine a warm day, but as the day goes on, it gets warmer and warmer. You want to cool it, but instead, it overflows like a tidal wave that consumes. Your body rides the tidal wave, unable to stop and unable to think of anything else. All you know is the idea, the inspiration. The body is weary, but the hands are controlling the wave. You cannot sleep, you cannot eat. It rips into you. The teeth are sharp, ripping away parts of you, all the while injecting you with heat. It burns. The eyes only see the creation, but the creation does not see you, it does not hear you. It has yet to be formed. The creation will engulf you, even when you find it."
Lecos winces, "Should I be afraid?"
Maybet narrows his eyes. "Fear becomes you." He tilts his head, chuckling. "I could always have you frolic in the fields of Gander, naked, serenading the open sky while shaking your booty."
Lecos scoffs, "I would never do such a thing!"
"You would if I am around when you are wasted. Inspiration can come at any time, especially when you least expect it," says Maybet.
Lecos whirls around. "I'm leaving. I'm not sorry. You're just a criminal," he whines.
Maybet snorts. "Says the criminal to a criminal."
"Whoever heard of doing something so obscene to a god? I'm telling Mother!" cries Lecos.
Maybet looks at Lecos blankly. "You do and I will tell her what you did to Mya."
Lecos slowly turns a shade lighter. He freezes before speaking again. "I'll take my leave."
Maybet sits, as time slowly unfreezes. "What a beautiful opera, don't you agree, Brother?"