i can’t save us my atlantis - we fall

Life always had a way of getting in the way of things. Émile had been excited all week for thursday to come around, smiling whenever his phone vibrated with another text from Al. Marie, or rather Artemis, had caught him texting Al during the break before her lesson, had stolen it off him and used the contents to thoroughly tease them during their spar.

He could barely hide his disappointment when Al canceled their date, though he supposed he too was supposed to be busy preparing the gym for open day in a few weeks time. Instead, he went for a run around the city, scaring some youths up to no good, shoulder checking a man following a woman so hard he sprawled into the ground and didn’t get up before she vanished from sight. Somehow his feet had lead him to Al’s workplace, and in the dark of the late evening Émile looked up to see someone working on the fifth floor. Smiling to himself, but deciding it would be too intrusive to go in and say hello, he continued on his run.

Saturday morning felt lie any other saturday; Émile turned on the equipment, opened the doors and started cleaning what hadn’t been cleaned on friday. The barbells were always a mess, and at times it seemed like only he cared for their order. He nearly dropped the weight he was holding at the sudden voice behind him. Turning around, he was plesantly surprised to see Al there, though they looked at least a little ridiculous in their bright neon exercise gear in the gritty boxing gym.

Émile looked them over, smirking as he walked over to the bar and took off the weights on either end. “The bar weighs 20 kilos alone,” he explained, guiding Al’s hands to the grips and helping them take the bar off the rest.

They stretched languidly, the tilt of their hips provocative by nature even if they didn’t intend it in that very moment. Rarely could they help themselves, most especially around him, but in this instance they had without thought. Al wanted to occupy his time. Chat with him and find out his innermost secrets but not for the sake of publishing, just to know. To be a little bit closer with him. They hoped they might find themselves curled up into those easy, strong, warm arms one day. Time would only tell on that matter. “I’ve never lifted a weight,” they admitted, even if it wasn’t wholly necessary. Gods that possessed strength and power did so naturally, without any effort or aide required. Al was not such an immortal. It had never mattered what form they took or which realm they walked, they remained a fair lithe Goddex with the constellations mapped out across them.

Al shifted on the bench to watch him, easily in awe of the ease of which Émile plucked up the weighted discs and put them aside. Memories of their first true encounter, Émile’s arms around them and their arms around his neck. It had been a show of strength like no other. Caught staring, they blushed the same pink as their lycra shirt. “Hands here?” They gestured to the rougher parts of the bars, where Émile’s hands had been as he demonstrated. The bar was cool but traces of his warmth still lingered.

The bar felt like an impossible weight against them. Their arms trembled as unused muscles were put to work for the first time. It was something of a struggle to lift the bar the first time, their form not exactly the best. However, so pleased with themselves the momentum carried them through into three more repetitions. Eventually they set the bar back down too fast to be described as controlled. “Goodness,” they puffed. A little out of breath from the exertion of it, even if they’d only managed three lifts altogether. “That was harder—- than I thought it would be.”

There was something calming and thrilling about walking with Al. Calming, in the pace of the exercise, in taking in the sights. If Al wasn’t careful Émile might be tempted to steal Mygdon away. Despite his appetite for adventure, and leaves, he was a fairly lovable pup.

Unfortunately the night had to end, and Mygdon had to head to bed. Émile gave the pup one last pat before Al unwrapped the leash from his wrist. His heart beat heavily as Al confirmed the… nature of their next meeting. It was a little too late to hold onto his earlier insistence denying it, and now he found himself warmed to the idea. “Thursday,” he confirmed, smiling sheepishly as Al thanked him.

Before he had a chance to deflect the thanks, he went dead still as Al leaned in, and gave him a kiss on each cheek. His skin burned from where their lips brushed, face most certainly hot if not noticeably darker. If that wasn’t enough, he could have sworn that Al… hesitated as they pulled back, a downward flick of their eyes… Émile breathed in, lips parting… but nothing came of it. Al pulled away, and Émile hid his disappointment with a smile, and a returning, “Good night.”

As soon as the door closed Émile turned, rubbing his hand over his face. He was… overwhelmed, mind tumbling through the events of that day, lingering on little moments of the night. That almost kiss, the hesitation before Al pulled back threatened to haunt him all the way on the walk home.

Without thinking, Émile whipped back to face the door and gave a curt knock. He stared up at Al as the door swung open. “You forgot something,” he rushed out, stepping forward to pull Al’s head down and give him a sweet goodnight kiss. He pulled away before it could become anything more than chaste, nervous like hell of overstepping their boundaries.

Émile pulled away and stepped back, grinning at Al with pure satisfaction. “Night,” he repeated, ducking his head before walking down the street, giving them a final look over his shoulder before he passed out of sight.

Al had thought they were being presumptuous that it was too early to tell if the way he leaned in was a sign or not, one date or even two did not mean much in the fast-paced world of Paris. But the kiss left a lingering mark. They were still stood in the doorway, gaze following him as he hurried down the steps uttering his goodbye with a sly grin on those coveted lips of his. Breathless, Al waited until they were finally back inside to shuffle back into the apartment building. Something akin to giddiness lit up their complexion, even Persephone commented they were looking particularly exultant. The rest of the week sped into a blur.

Work bled through into any social life Al hoped to maintain, they’d spoken to him on the phone the night before—incessant texting had gotten on the nerves of Persephone who had insisted that they simply do it and call. Thursday came and went with a pile of work and no hope of leaving the office until late, if at all. Wishful thinking, they’d half hoped to find him in their apartment that night when they’d finally trudged back. Eventually, the kiss started to fade from their memory, intermittent texts with promises to meet up attempted to ground the feel of Émile’s hand in their’s, but when all is said and done—it’s best to take matters into your own hands.

Émile couldn’t help but say a sheepish “Oh,” as Al revealed their reason for witholding the story from their zine. His face warmed again, especially from the way Al’s eyes met his. He broke away, pretending to be taken in with Mygdon bounding ahead. He couldn’t help the hitch to his breath as Al leaned into him, his whole side uncomfortably warm.

“Hey,” he started as Al sulked about his bad memory. “In my defense, that night when I got home I fell asleep before I hit my bed. I thought I dreamt it.” Certainly rescuing someone caught in a tree with their cat in the middle of the night wouldn’t be unusual for his dreams. “Besides, you cut your hair, right?” He so wanted to ruffle Al’s hair, but he could barely hold their hand without his heart pounding out of his chest.

The river sure was captivating, and they weren’t the only one to think so. Émile didn’t have time to feel awkward and embarrassed at the thought of other pairs of eyes on the two of them- Soon his hand was full of Mygdon’s leash. He felt oddly responsible, and slightly terrified that something would happen to the happily panting dog while he was under his control.

“You have,” he said, turning his head to face the top of Al’s head. “Definitely not evil, or hunchbacked and potbellied.” He briefly wondered whether Al somehow knew his prejudices, but decided to shrug it away. “Though I think I need another meeting to make sure.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Émile blushed some more, thinking of some way to change the subject.

“I think you live closer to here than I do,” he said, nodding in the vague direction of Al’s apartment. Running around Paris did give him an excellent sense of direction. “I can walk with you home, if you’d like.” He lifted Mygdon’s leash. “It should tire him out. A little.”

They didn’t wish to revel in the comfort it gave them that Émile had been exhausted that night, perhaps too tired to consider the details of their brisk tree union. They had not yet lost all hope and besides, Émile’s clamouring to soothe their pouting brought forth a petite smile. The smile, Émile’s warmth beside them, the heat in their ears that they could not control no more than keeping Mygdon from chasing fallen leaves. It all alluded to a power greater than Al could ever hope to master. Though I think I need another meeting—- they had never been so sure that they wanted something until then, that they needed someone. “I imagine the walk will leave him with just enough energy to wreak havoc before sleeping in the middle of it,” they teased. As if Mygdon understood he chose that precise moment to turn and yank on his leash with a mouthful of leaves. “Mygdon!”

For the duration it took to reach the steps of Al’s apartment, Mygdon behaved, they spoke with Émile about everything and anything. So, cosy in his warmth that they hadn’t realised it had gotten dark and cold until they were left at an arm’s length. “Thursday evening, I’m available if you are.” Without truly waiting for him to reply Al said, “it’s a date.” They slowly unwrapped the leash from around Émile’s wrist transferred it to their own, although Mygdon was perched between them both, already half asleep. “Thank you for tonight it was wonderful.”

They could’ve parted ways like that, but it didn’t feel right or complete. Before Émile could turn to leave, they caught his hand with their own, closed the gap whilst careful of the sleeping dog and kissed him. Once on each cheek. Although they lingered at his lips, so sure that a little one would not come to harm, but uncertain if the time was right. Their chest ached when they pulled away, unfulfilled. “Good night.” They whispered and before another word could be said between them, they disappeared up the apartment steps and through the door. There, Al could let the tension roll out of their shoulders as they slumped against the other side. Mygdon, upset to have been so rudely woken, yapped at their feet.

Artemis smiled in agreement. It was true, they did need sustenance, but she’d always treated that casually. There was very little that she took seriously if it was outside the realm of her interests and powers, even if it was something she should care about. Too much was treated casually by her, and she had no intentions of changing, even if she had eternity to do so. “I always found we have similarities to the mortals, I don’t know why so many insist we don’t.” Many gods saw themselves as perfect, and that only humanity had flaws. Artemis thought flaws existed in everything, gods included, and it was something to be appreciated. 

“Of course I love them, but they could at least do the grocery shopping sometimes if they’re going to eat all my foods. You know, even Hermes just walked right in and helped himself. There was a time the men actually feared me a little.” The pout disappeared as quickly as it had found its way onto her face. “Don’t you worry, Mygdon. You might not be as large as my thirteen, but I love you all the same.” Dogs might not be her sacred animal, but they did have a place close to her hearts, just as bears did. 

Not bothering to lock the door behind her as they left, as the door was never locked, Artemis considered the suggestion and nodded decisively. “Perfect. There’s this one near here, the baker is this absolutely adorable grandmother. I just want to pinch her cheeks.”

“All the separates us from mortals is time.” Knowledge, occasionally, and often strength. Calliope had known mortals that were stronger than Gods but not by the size of their bicep or the ability to bring down the heavens. Gods could learn from mortals if they opened their eyes and were willing to listen. So, inherently flawed to be self-loving with egos large than Earth could handle. “Leave your fridge empty! Although that does have the potential to lead your visitors astray somewhere with a plentiful harvest for pinching.” They practically skipped down the stairs and out of the door at the mention of adorable bakers. “There is one close to Persephone and I, she bakes delicious pastries. I visit every morning If I can…for a while I believe her lover thought I was interested.” Such a foolhardy mistake.

“Of course, my heart can only lay with a mille-feuille,” they teased, smile bright and eyes lit up with excitement as they drew closer to the baker. It wasn’t far, as Artemis had informed them, and the smell that drifted down the street was so enticing Calliope was ready to break out into a run. The bell charmed behind the two of them, with Mygdon panting outside tied up beside a water bowl. “Afternoon, goodness these all look delicious. But I know for a fact I should like at least two madeleines and perhaps…” They couldn’t decide even after they surveyed all the sweets and so, turned to Artemis. “What do you fancy?”

It was far too easy to tease the goddex, especially for something that should feel like blasphemy. But instead of smiting them Al blushed and denied the facts, though Émile knew for a fact that they would remember the night with utter clarity. Émile had been about to point out the red to their cheeks, remind them about how they had clung to him, when Al leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t a long kiss, it wasn’t particularly passionate or deep, but it burned into his memory like a brand. He didn’t follow through with the tease that had been on his tongue, mind blank for a few moments afterwards. His eyes were still wide as Al pulled away their hand, and the coldness of his empty palm started him into action.

Émile could immediately feel his face burn up like it was on fire, his lips the warmest by far. He looked at Al as they picked up Mygdon and lavished the pup with affection. His brain was still struggling to catch with what had happened. The gears sluggishly struggled to put the pieces together: was that only a thank you kiss? Did he want to kiss Al more? If so, was it a good sign that Al was currently cuddling his pup instead of him? He gave Al a sheepish, small smile while he struggled to compute the answers to his questions: He sure hoped that wasn’t only a thank you kiss. He very much wanted to kiss Al more. Maybe immediately walking away from the person you just thank you kissed was not a good sign for future kissing. Then Al’s eyes met his and a deep shiver shot down his spine.

               - Gods, please don’t let that only be a thank you kiss.

When Al offered their hand Émile was only too happy to take it again. It felt right, walking by their side like this. He smiled as Mygdon raced ahead, sniffing at everything in sight with some voraciousness.

“You didn’t talk about the tree in your zine,” he said, as the realisiation struck. “Why not?” He asked as he entwined their fingers together, hoping that Al wouldn’t mind.

Mygdon was insistent, bounding ahead several steps and tugging on his leash as he dug out new scents with his inquisitive little snout. Al smiled, their racing heart soothed by the easy simplicity of their canine taking in each leaf as if it were utterly new. Émile’s question nearly brought them to a stop. They pinched their lip between their teeth and smiled, head canted down a touch. Only speaking once their gaze had lifted to his. “Perhaps, I wanted that moment for myself.” They were not obliged to print everything that regarded the Gods, although it certainly worked well for them when they did. Al rarely with-held stories from their zine, they had total freedom over content given it was theirs, but Al had wanted a moment with him. Something that was selfishly and unequivocally theirs.

That was their honest answer, and they stuck with it. Tacking on that the story was an embarrassment might be true enough but Al had endured worse, had worse told and retold about them. It was a flimsy excuse when Émile wanted to hear the truth. They leaned into him as their steps fell together, matched harmony. It would be precarious to delve too deep into whether this was one-sided, if they were the only one tonight that could feel the electricity in the air. “Besides, you had forgotten about that night until I reminded you. Didn’t even recognise me, I don’t know if I should be thankful for that or offended.” Clearly, they hadn’t been all that memorable for him, perhaps that might’ve changed now.

The walk to the river was just the thing Émile needed to clear his head. It was a perfectly mild night, dusk still settling as they winded through the streets towards the bank. Émile stayed hyperaware of Al’s presence at his side, every bump of their shoulder, accidental brush of hands catalogued.

Émile’s hand was still warm from where Al had held his from the table as the made their way to the river. This dinner was feeling more and more like a date, and by the time Al’s hand found Émile’s once more Émile was happy to resign himself to the feeling. Still, he couldn’t be sure whether it was all in his head. Something about the easy, carefree nature of Al told him that they might act like this with their friends. He hoped he was wrong.

Émile could hardly remember the little green they wandered into, until Al pointed towards the tree. When he did remember, it was stronger than he expected. Al’s hand still in his, it was like his memory was enhanced, unnerving but not unpleasant. He had been jogging, dreadfully bored until he heard two pitiful noises coming from above. He could remember what the blossoms smelled like. The texture of the bark under his hands as he climbed on up. 

“You were the cat in the tree!” he exclaimed gleefully, amused at the memory. His eyes opened, unaware that he had closed him as he relived the evening in question. “You were so worried I was going to get stuck up there with you,” he teased, grinning. “And you squeaked when I jumped down.” There was a shift in the air between them, something in the way Al looked at him… It scared Émile, even if it intrigued him. Call his teasing self-sabotage. “I don’t think Orpheus would have forgiven me for tying him up in my hoodie…”

Despite his easy, joking recall of the events, he couldn’t brush off Al’s statement quite so easily. His thumb brushed up and down the side of Al’s hand. “Please, I don’t need your thanks.” But he didn’t pull away.

It was simultaneously calming and electric to be so close to him as they wandered beneath the late greenery shade. They could not fathom a reason as to why the two had come to coincide together, no-one had ever elicited such diametric emotions from them. Al wrapped their hand around the leash as Mygdon puffed up to threaten a runaway leaf. They smiled and bobbed their head, “I was indeed.” Their escapades up into the trees of Paris was nothing to be proud of, certainly not when coupled with needing to be rescued but Al smiled all the same. Eager to let the memory be forgotten but the power of Émile at their side, hand in theirs, brought forth the tale hastily to their lips.

Al bumped shoulders with him. “It was terribly high and terribly frightening.” There were few things that Calli was afraid of, heights most certainly one of them and sat at the very top of their list. Amongst the clouds in Olympus they had come face to face with their fear on numerous occasions. The sheer cliffs and edges unpleasant and nauseating. “I did not squeak.” Although history said otherwise. They ambled a little further down the tree lined street, tugging Émile with them until they stopped finally.

“Maybe, but Orpheus survived the ordeal and hasn’t tried to scale a tree that was out of his league since. So, you’ve done him a favour and I…” Al shivered at the electric charge from Émile’s thumb, his chest tightening at the subtle affection. Émile did need their thanks, only they could not summon the words. The great Goddex was tongue tied and blushing in-front of him. Before any haphazard words could spoil the moment, Al leaned forwards and caught Êmile’s lips with their own. The kiss, as sweet as it was, lasted but a heartbeat. Even then they could still feel the imprint of his lips against their own long after they’d pulled away. The hand in theirs was heavy, warm, they didn’t want to let go.

Embarrassment compelled them to do something, so Al freed their hand and went to scoop up Mygdon. Buried their scalding cheeks between Mygdon’s golden tufty curls. “You have my thanks now,” they murmured. Eyes electric as they aligned with Émile’s. It was so compelling to be close to him, Calli felt like they needed to sing, praise him and worship in a manner that was not expected of them. And, otherwise not approved of.

The tips of Alexandre’s fingers brushed against Émile’s, sending a comforting, thrilling shiver down his spine. He hoped Alexandre didn’t notice the goosebumps shooting up his arm at the mere touch. “Friends,” he repeated, the cloud of anxiety that had been hanging around his shoulders dissipating. “I’d like to meet them too.” It seemed almost… a normal thing to ask another person. Émile wasn’t used to normal, especially not from gods. “Your friends and your pets,” he clarified, happy to listen to their descriptions of their animals. It seemed like their apartment was quite the full house. At their admission that they wanted another, Émile was quite surprised. The blush that came across their cheeks made it sweeter.

“I can’t imagine many gods would be happy without pets. Maybe that’s why so many are in Paris,” he teased, watching Al look under the table to coo at their dog. Affection swelled in his chest at the sight. An easy smile lightened his face. “Mygdon seems perfect, at least when he’s not trying to get into fights.”

He confirmed his order to the waiter, and by the time food arrived at the table Émile and Alexandre had fallen into easy conversation. Despite the reason for this meeting, all feelings of ill-will Émile had felt towards the goddex disappeared within the span of a few hours. Al was romantic, sweet and good-hearted, if a little mischevious. Nothing of the explotive cold-hearted journalist Émile had feared. He found himself quite liking them by the end of their meal, but that may have been influenced by their suggestion in restaurant. The moussaka had been just what he’d been craving; he’d had to push down old habits to make sure he didn’t inhale it in a few bites.

Finished, food digesting happily in his stomach, Émile leaned back in his chair, face blissful. “How have I never been here before?” he mummbled, hands resting on his stomach. He waited there for a moment longer before rocking forward again, looking at Al. “That was wonderful. Thank you.” He grinned and slid his hand across the table, not daring to touch their hand, but wishing he had the courage.

“I wouldn’t mind that walk to burn it off, if you’re still interested.”

Al was so pleased to hear that Émile was interested, their pets were their pride and joy, in any other context they would’ve been content to parade their little floofs but in the case of Émile, it delighted them. “Mygdon is a blessing,” they murmured as they dropped their hand for Mygdon to sniff it. The rest of the meal was easy, conversation flowed and their food was exactly as ordered. It took Al considerably longer to finish their meal than Émile but that could’ve been because they were merrily chatting away to both him and their dog. They smiled, please that Émile had enjoyed it. “I haven’t the faintest clue, but if you want to know which restaurants to visit and which to avoid I’ve surveyed many.” Mostly because they couldn’t cook particularly well and had resorted to expensive means to keep themselves fed. Al picked up where Émile left off, as they reached across the table and squeezed the hand he had offered. “You are welcome, happy to take you out for delicious food anytime.”

They dropped enough to cover the bill, and a little extra for a tip knowing the waiter had served Al on more than one occasion and stood. Stretching a little as if to help ease the massive dinner they’d just devoured. “Come, we can walk towards the river. It is always gorgeous at night.” They kept one hand firmly on Mygdon’s leash, bumped shoulders with Émile an impish smile lighting up their expression as they gestured towards narrow winding street. It was a little too early, perhaps, for Al to be as bold as to reach for his hand so they waited a little while. Until they had rounded a corner and headed down towards the river, ducking into a dark alleyway to cut through the busy streets Al took the opportunity to slip their hand into his. The further they walked the greener it had gotten, still no closer to the river. “Do you remember, it was late one evening a few weeks ago. We met here for the first time.”

The trees whimpered and bowed with the bustling autumn wind. Al smiled, with Mygdon’s leash entwined around their fingers they pointed towards the third linden from them. “Up there, you saved Orpheus and I.” It hadn’t been a ploy exactly to spur the Lion of Paris to their aid but they had been following his case for some days, it just so happened, that they had found Orpheus the mischievous scrappy kitten had launched itself to the sky. Getting itself hopelessly stuck in the process. “Orpheus is my kitten, he’s just three months old someone abandoned him in a box three streets from here. Quite a determination to scale every tree in sight with very little sense.” Al hummed, bemused. “That includes anything particularly tall and delicate at home.” The first night, Orpheus had spent a generous hour sinking his claws into their curtains. The poor boy still hadn’t learnt to retract his claws.

Everything Al said seemed designed to make Émile blush. Gods, he was a mess, fingers trembling as he flicked through the pages of the menu, Al’s praises repeating through his mind. He was attracted to them, that he couldn’t deny, but he wasn’t sure whether it was that attraction or Calliope that had him wanting to hear more. He flicked his gaze up to meet Al’s over the menu. An attractive young man sounded like something a grandmother might say, however teasing Al made it sound. Émile sighed, urging his heart to slow down its relentless rhythm. It was no good reading into the goddex’s words.

“I think I’ll have the spanakopita next time; I’m in the mood for something meaty,” he said with a shrug, only then realising how that could be interpreted. “-For the protein,” he added on, cringing at how that made him sound. Setting down his menu, smoothing it onto the table, he cast them a polite smile. How was it that Al could look so relaxed, so at ease while Émile was falling to pieces. He took a sip of his own drink, quenching his dry throat.

After calling the waiter over and placing their orders, Émile turned back to Al. “I wouldn’t mind meeting them, but I don’t want… infamy.” He sheepishly leaned back and rubbed the back of his head. He didn’t want to put Al off, but it had to be said. “I don’t want gods or humans coming around to my house, trying to meet the Lion of Paris. I just want to be a good man.” If that was even possible. He smiled, drinking the honey lemon water some more.

“How many animals do you have?” he asked, trying to steer the conversation away from himself and how he was an attractive young man. About how they had been dying to meet him. His ears still burned from that. “I’ve always liked dogs.”

Al dropped a finger between their lips and grinned, the manner of which could only be described as holy. Laughter spilled between them and they shook their head, Émile’s embarrassment was, luckily for him, endearing Al to him. Their mind waned and drifted, crept somewhere that wouldn’t make polite dinner conversation and rolled back again, their gaze somewhere between Émile’s lips and eyes, flitting between the two slowly. Eventually, they came to focus firmly at his gaze. “I have never had much a taste for savoury, my sisters used to chide me for finishing off their sweets before they could touch them.” The same could be said for Calli and Persephone, they tended to find themselves curled up on the sofas most evenings honey lemon in one hand and a handful of biscuits in the other. Doughnuts, pastries, the mortals had gotten inventive with their food creations and Calli loved to indulge. It was their vice.

“Goodness, no.” They reached across the table with a gentile hand, a peace offering amid Émile’s uncertainty. “I have no intention of subjecting you to scandal Émile. I can assure of that. I suppose,” they paused, contemplating their choice of words. “I would like to introduce you to my friends. Not many. If, you are interested then perhaps you could come to mine sometime?” Al canted their head, a little pleased to frame it so softly but delighted to hear that Émile had taken an interest in their animals. “Mygdon is my only pup, he was my first. I’ve recently adopted two abandoned strays, Orpheus and Linus. Both of whom are quite vocal and enjoy making a nuisance of themselves.” So far, they had received at least three known complaints from neighbours at the cats yowling in the night.

“I’d like to adopt another dog, but I think Persephone might persecute me if I bring yet another animal home.” They smiled, a little bashful as they dipped their head down and searched for their cup. Now, this was a first. Someone capable of bringing a soft blush across the goddex’s star freckled cheeks. “Pets aren’t permitted I suppose in Olympus, but I cannot show how one could live without one now. They are perfect, aren’t you Mygdon.” They cooed, dipping their head a little lower so they could address the cocker spaniel that was draped across their feet. He bounced up, tail alert and thumping Émile’s leg as he propped two front legs on Al’s shins.

As Calli spoke, Artemis made her way into the kitchen, going straight for the stash of chocolate. Half was missing, but she knew it’d probably been the usual culprit. Apollo had as much of a sweet tooth as her, but had a preference for whatever Artemis had bought. Popping a square into her mouth, she turned back to Calli, smiling to hear that Astraea had seen them. “Where’s mine? I want goodies.” She teased lightly, crouching down to fuss over Mygdon. She loved all animals, and for her, dogs ranked close to deer. 

“Despite what everyone thinks, Apollo doesn’t live here. He just ignores that himself, and stays here a lot. Same as Astraea. You’d think I was running a hotel. Except they don’t pay for anything.” Artemis had learnt how to pull off a casual tone a long time ago, sounding mildly amused and disapproving at the same time. 

The casual flattery had no impact on Artemis, it didn’t boost her ego like it would for other goddesses. Her beauty was just a fact of life, nothing to be praised. But she was proud enough that an insult to her appearance would be reprimanded, something Calli knew. “Dinner sounds good. This body doesn’t need proper food, but it looks good if I don’t just pig out on sugar all the time.” 

She swung on her favourite leather jacket before holding her hand out for the leash. Artemis knew Calli wasn’t the same gender as their body, but she still had a reputation to live up to, so she had no interest in taking the offered arm. 

“All Goddesses need sustenance,” they noted. “Ambrosia and nectar,” they recited with a smile that gently etched from each corner of their lips. “Perhaps in this life your ambrosia does not take the form it might otherwise, but we are not so different to the mortals.” Except for their gifts, which undeniably set them apart and a lifespan that was finite. Calli had often found themselves jealous, infinite life meant there was no challenge, no beck and call to do greatness here and now for it could wait another century. But a mortal life span a fraction of a god’s and demanded excellence without stop, it was one of the many reasons they’d forsaken Olympus. It was supposedly temporary, but they were too settled now to conceive returning. Especially not so now, there were heroes to write about.

“You love them all really. Astraea has such a sweet heart I am blessed to have her companionship in this realm, just as I am blessed for yours and Apollo’s. Although I ought not to say that too loudly Mygdon has getting awfully jealous of my split attentions ever since I adopted the kittens.” Al chuckled and brought their offered arm in close to their body. “Not all men must die,” they whistled as they swapped the leash over for Artemis’ to hold. Somewhat pleased that they wouldn’t need to deal with Mygdon’s insistence to bark at every tree, leaf and passer-by. He was sweet, endearing but a little yappy.

He studied the lithe muse as they made his way into his home, a dry amusement sparkling in his eyes at the divinity that shimmered between their fingertips. Loki inclined his head, meeting their gaze for a long, curious moment. Al,” he returned politely. “I’m not particularly certain what…pantheon you call home, but whatever it is, it is quite…unfamiliar to me.” The Norse God chuckled lightly at their response, making his way to the counter where they could be face to face. He busied himself with pouring two glasses of amber-coloured liquid. “There’s always an audience of a kind,” he jested softly, “even if the audience is only ourselves.”

Loki placed the glasses in front of his guest and himself. Lifting up his own glass, he took a lingering sip, the taste of fermented honey dancing on his tongue. Sugary-sweet, never his most favourite of drinks - he much preferred the tropical decadence of a mojito - but it seemed apt. “Mead,” he explained with a hint of a smile. “Drink of heroes, and thus, appropriate for tonight. I hope that it might give us both the strength to interview well.” His eyes drifted down to the orange notebook, the poised pen, and his lips curved again into a subtle smile. “What would you like to hear, Al,” he asked them neatly, “something that you can print in your magazine without your readers thinking you insane?” His eyes met theirs, dancing with mischief and something darker, smoother, more sinister. “Or something rather closer to the truth?”

“Greek,” they replied. “I was born amidst the peaks of Mount Helicon if you so prefer that version of the story.” They smiled, a wicked little thing and toyed with the glass that was offered to them. If it weren’t for propriety, the rules they and their sisters had sworn too, and a general dislike for anything Dionysus longed for and created, they might’ve taken a sip, even to be polite. “Pardon, I’m no hero. Just a simple muse and unfortunately, we do not sip from a hero’s cup.” They tapped the glass once more and then slid from the stool to accompanying Loki in the kitchen. Calli appropriated the knife he had been using and pinched a lemon from atop of a fruit bowl, cutting in neatly into quarters they squeezed half the juice and placed the other slices into a glass. Topping it all up with water. “This, will do me just fine. In Olympus, my sisters and I drink honey sweetened milk, but I am not fond of the taste. Lemon water is just as suitable.”