#mutemis

@the-noble-golden-dragon

Artemis did not usually take orders from ghosts.

She helped them, when she could. She listened to them, she made friends with them, because she had learned long ago that befriending the ghosts was better than shutting them out. Like water, if they were able to flow they were gentle, but when blocked, they burst with force enough to level trees. 

But, when the old woman demanded: find my granddaughter, Artemis felt helpless to obey. It was not so much the woman on her own, but the knocking from the otherside. The woman did not come alone. When they had crossed the boarder into Swynlake, Artemis had felt them all, as if a hundred people had just moved into her house. Most of the presences were just impressions, silent and old. The kinds of spirits Artemis used to find between the pillars of the temples in the Sanctuary of the Muses.

So, this is why she followed them to PrideU.

It why she sat on a table in the quad, her back straight as she watched a girl playing an informal game of football. When the group had broken up, the girl came, panting and sweaty, plopping down on the other side of Artemis’ empty table, as it was the only one in the quad. Artemis turned her head slightly, watching Mulan.

“Go on,” the straight-backed woman said, her eyes sharp. She was staring right at Artemis impatiently.