Icariad Art Work

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Icariad – based upon the tale of Icarus. until the chain is a rehash of the story with some minor symbolic changes. after that the story is original. i’m curious if people prefer this legend/myth hybrid approach to strict and kinda dry myth.

gather round for a story; one from another culture, who half knew what happened.

There was once a proud mighty king who ruled over an island. He needed a sense of divine legitmacy so he summoned the best archetect to build him a special prison of sorts. A labyrinth turned maze to hold within walls a monster beyond the confrontation of doors. A chimeric creature half-man and half bull, crazed into blood lust the personified hunger of the hold.

However the designers the tyrant called for, many of the greatest in all the lands, refused. so he summoned a craftsman criminal of divine ingenuity to build the maze as a reparation of forgiveness for past and foreign grievances, for the immigrant seeking asylum. The criminal Daedalus, was understanding but reluctant, before seeing the spearman’s point. He was escourted with his son to the king, who sensing the master’s reluctance sweetened the deal promising the wealth of a life as well. So again Daedalus reluctantly accepted, and he built a maze-like labyrinth nearly getting lost on the way out.

Still, the king didn’t pay what Daedalus expected. The king in his craftiness moved the pair to a tower, and ordered the inventor to design and build marvelous contraptions. And to one more creation he did, he built sails so fine that the ship using them would out-sail galleys of a thousand oars. But still there was no release.

The next invention was far more confusing to the king. The inventor asked for all manner of things, and because he needed a bigger room to build, the inventor got bigger and more impressive bed rooms, in which he spread out his baubles and broomsticks and tar barrels and fabic- both pillow sleaves and bolts. He even asked for various animals which only his arcane intellect could see value in their arangement.

At first the king visited in wonder, but as the weeks grew to months he grew less patient. Even the guards were forced out of the natural curiousity you have regarding oddities about your job. One remarked “I opened up the door while he was writing and he spilled his ink all over his work, to which he screamed and threw the lot out the window. And he berated me for not ‘knocking’, screaming about how I had ruined his work. Who knocks for a prisoner though?

‘you are not to pester our guest!’ remarked King minos. And I didn’t even do nothing. I… well I must have deserved it. I didn’t make the same mistake for a long time, but one time I just opened up the door after even knocking and the same thing happened cause ‘he didn’t invite me in.’ the nerve.”

little did anyone know but behind the pretense of genius was genuine cause for mistrust. For the father and son team worked together to make magnificent wings of animal skin, and feather, atached to their arms like birds. Soon they set out freeing themselves from their prison of a tower. Quickly the fledgling boy learned control, and his old man instructed him to stay in the middle- fly too high and the wax would melt, fly too low and the waters would wet the feathers and the weight would cause him to flounder and fall.

But the boy was reckless, and after hours of barely restrained content, he soared with excitement and youthful vigor. And as children will do sometimes he soared too high. His asperations outflying his capacity. And here is wear our story differs. It is said, that he soared too high and so the max melted. Which was part true, but not wholly. He flew up and the wax did start to melt, but more importantly it ignited from the heat. And whereas one could merely dive and the air itself would cool the wax back solid, with flame it stoked the coals of Helios, burning hoter still into a glorious but blazing fall.

It is said that he instantly disappeared into the waves, but that isn’t true either. He splated terminally as only the progeny of gods would survive.


it wasn’t so much that Icarus disappeared, as much as he was disappeared. Icarus was grabed by something below. His father swooped down but only saw scarce feathers. He grabed with his feet one long primary-feather unsinged. he wept. Risking himself before the sallavating waves, for that token, reaching with feet like talons fiercely scraping at the indifferent waves. Slowly, he surveyed where the boy had landed, but he gave up wearily flying to a distant shore to rest.

He flew slow with head held low, mourning his nightmarish loss. It was only after the emotional turmoil and weeks of denial, that he started to project blame. Only then did the murmur of hateful “why didn’t he listen” escape his lips. Months more elapsed before he stoped looking, nearly driven mad by the grief.

he watched me get taken away. The wind left me and so did He. He forfieted me to not displease noble vapors uplifting him to freedom. I was a sacrifice, an offering, for freedom. My cries, from the fledgling loss of lift, and he did nothing. A whispy voice of legend resounded “you flew to high, against instruction. We commend your pride; we commend your price. You now enter Poseidon’s realm, dragged by undertow, (granting what you owe,) now overwhelmed.”

“we sirens grant you the gift of soul, now you can breathe, now you are whole. The rusty aspirations of those above, come from the gluttonous sloth respiration; now movement- dance- is your denouement. Keep moving or you will drown.

And so with soul, he descended, ashen wings radiating soot and glow-fading coals. Down to the dark. He was taken through glowing cities of soft loving coral lights. Echo spoke Prometheus’ eternal words “and I, Prometheus, with but a light, ended mankind’s fear of the nigh-” suddenly cut short, a syllable from fear.

Strange fish fed upon their mates to then be absorbed by said mate. Some had celestial lures before barely hidden maw. Giant ancients gulped schools of fish and creatures emerged and imbedded themselves in the sand and when deeper the silt. The non-planar world was a terrific terror, there was no real meaningful up or down, just the direction the bubbles would float like blown kisses in the wind. And sea stars patiently chased one another on the sunken hull of a ship, finally supplanting themselves on mollusks to inject their stomach and ingest their prey inside out.

The depths were ephemeral and chaotic beyond reasoning lightning bolts cascaded up plumes of soot from a variety of vents while others cricked out like writhing semi-taunt snakes. And eternal light, even sense of the existence of the sky, had gone dark. brooding in passion, seething in darkness.

He entered a dark chamber awash in the same neon lights. A pensive and dimly lit Thinker sat upon a coral throne with a few oddly shaped advisers unkempt and bickering around the room. One of the escorts went to the king to inform him what the stranger was doing in his court.

“who are you?”

“I…” said Icarus

“well Aye; what are you doing here?”

“I… I… I…”

“aye?” the character looks spuriously around him to see if any were challenging his authority by understanding.
“Putre- xibalba- valkrie- isis- iris- capricorn – Ekho”

“Iris? what about her?” the character is visibly getting angry

“why can’t I awaken? Why can’t I cry?”

with the terror one of the members of court speaks up, “he is Icarus, son of Daedalus”. the angry god reached for a nearby three pronged ‘candelabra’ it starts shining with light and surging with electrical currents. “You dare impede the sovereignty of the trident? The will of the seas themselves?” suddenly all the other members of court were pushed against the walls, a torus shaped cyclone pushing all of them away from the upstart, and foreigner alike.

The center of the room was now empty of water, as was the fishy siren, now flopping near helplessly on the floor. With the loss of water, came a return of weight and Icarus keeled over like a dirged ship pouring out the water which had been in his lungs. With a bright flash and the cry “i will not suffer insubordination” a wet ringing gasp reverberated from the well waiting wake.

With the new found orientation, and the lesser pressure, the boy was able to stand again. And he with the angry and well armed ruler of the seas were alone in the eye of the torus, which now had settled like molten rippling glass. The trident shone bright as day nearly blinding to the now accustomed eyes.

“why are you here, Aye?” and so the boy told his tale of the king’s search and later imprisonment of him. He ended humbly with a plea of mercy and servitude

the god laughed, “Aye, you can’t let your grasp out extend your reach. But such is the curse of mortals. I am feeling like a benefactor so I offer my patronage, the patronage of a god. If you accept it you will bear my blessing and carry my marks a lieutenant in my rank and file. But if you wonder about what will happen if you refuse it, then in your heart you already have, and you will be judged appropriately.”

and Icarus was reborn Aye (Αε). He stewed in righteous anger over his real father’s perceived discard, which condensed under the sea’s mighty pressure into hyperbolic hatred from envy- of those beyond his new world. Hated of the worldly truths who forsake him. He was honed with prejudiced favor into a mighty champion in his own right. And quotes of familial hatred resounded deeply. Poseidon ranted “waters will froth white with fury. Barnacles will be swept miles inland, cleft from lazing seadogs to the cliffs of Olympus, my brother deserves what our father received.”

Years passed swimming progressively easily in waters thick with mutiny, and yet soon they swam to insure the shore. In his time of arduous training which would even make Spartans cry, he rose to the rank of general, and would command one of the fronts. He was granted the Athenian shore; home.

Memories flooded back to him as the tide recessed beneath him. He remembered his father watching him get dragged down to drown. He remembered his cousin’s tragic death similarly at the hands of his father; Why he had been sent with father to Minos in the first place. A labyrinth unfinished and a maze to boot. Pretense to favor the prodigal son. Like Poseidon and Hades before him, he was cast from the heavenly family, without even failure to redeem due to a trick of his father and Apollo who mockingly razed my wings; conceitedly feeling his path worth more than my life. Maybe it was justice in his eyes for my father’s deeds. “Too coward to kill me but culpable to help me die, what a feeble god.”

he entered a hovel on the countryside above the city, and there was an old man. The old man began crying.

“what is it? Why do you cry but not flea? fool”

“you remind me of a son I lost at sea. When I realized he was in the water I went to check, but I couldn’t see him. The waters were so dark I had no idea where he was. I looked along the surface cause he could swim but I didn’t find him.”

“LIAR, you watched me struggle and sink.” and with his blade he impaled his frail father.

bleeding out the old man coughed “i carried home of you, what I could” and the old man lifted up a single feather necklace.

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One thought on “Icariad Art Work

  1. digitalgranny says:

    I really liked reading this.

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