— *·° ☾. free & wild.

apollo.   knit  brows  riddled  with  pure  unadulterated  confusion  give  way  to  just  one  profound  sound:  ❝    huh ?   ❞   a  coward  for  what  ?   being  careful  of  a  stalker  ?  feels  more  like  common  sense  than  fear.  it  hits  him  moments  later,  and  features  twist  to  relax,  relief  spreads  through  him  like  a  warm  wash  and  a  grin  emerges  with  halting  rushes  of  air  through  his  lips.   ❝    alright  i  get  it.  you  got  me  good.  bolt  sent  you  didn’t  he ?  some  kind  of  twisted   encouragement ?   don’t  be  a  coward,  don’t  think,  just  do  it  ?  sends  inspiration  for  the  studios ?  i  gotta  say  this  is  creative.   ❞   he  takes  a  step  forward,  at  ease,  although  a  healthy  distance  is  still  maintained.   ❝    apollo  though.  clever.  quite  a  dangerous  ego  stroke  though.  even  for  me.   ❞

she’s  descended  into  his  space  like  a  HURRICANE;  all  pent  up  energy  and  a  sense  of  betrayal  like  as  if  he’d  forgotten  to  call  after  a  night  of  untold  promise.  and  if  that  had  happened  in  all  its  unlikelihood,  he’d  definitely  have  remembered.   ❝   we  had  ONE  conversation  at  a  music  shop  i  don’t  know  you.  i  don’t  even  know  what  you  did  to  my  security,  or  how  you  got  in  here.  or  what  you  want  —  look  i’ve  had  my  fair  share  of  crazy  fans  most  of  them  are  actually  nice  to  me.  but  whatever  it  is  you  want  —  you’ve  got  the  wrong  guy.  alright ?  just  stay  back .  .  .   we  can  talk  about  this.    ❞    there’s  a  sense  of  dread  creeping  up  his  spine.  why  are  all  the  seemingly  good  ones  always  insane ?  

Hephaestus’ gaze moved to the side and his eyes widened as he took in Artemis. Lips curved upwards in amusement. “I’d hardly call it moping, little sister,” he responded, a glint in his eyes that many would recognize as the god of fire’s. “Something close to a smile rose upon his face and at her question, he allowed himself a laugh that was only somewhat filled with amusement. “Do you speak of my dear mother?” he inquired with a twist of his lips. “Or perhaps my beloved wife?” Hephaestus shook his head, something close but not quite to a mocking expression upon his lips. “I’ve seen them both.” He tapped his fingers against the closest surface. “And where is the golden boy?” he inquired. “Strange to see one of you without the other.”

“     is this    funny   to you?     ”   there is a harshness to her tongue that cuts like unswept glass,  a rigidness to her limbs that strains the voice ; body visibly flinching at the new title he’d deemed proper to award her .    “    we have been cast out from olympus, stripped from our powers and kept on a leash for who knows how long! our father is missing, our brothers and sisters are walking around completely vulnerable to this unknown threat that looms over us all   ----   do you REALLY think this is the time for  provocations?   because if it’s doubt that's impairing your judgement, let me assure you, you are still  no match  for me.     ”     fingers coil from memory, only to find no tangible thing to touch but her own palm; that feeling as though something was missing from her hands intensifies - those hands, now too tame and pristine for her liking.   “    apollo is not here.     ”    an abruptness to her tone refuses to engage, to feed the vultures.   apollo does not remember  - because he’s a stubborn, irresponsible, petulant little child;  and she will guilt him even when he is innocent, for whatever pain his absence brings her, it is hers to bear now  &   hers alone.     “   and neither is your dear mother, as far as i can see,   ”     she purposely avoids touching the other name, dreading venturing into that maze.   “    what - does she have more urgent matters to attend to than     ------ forget it...      ”    she’ll aim her rage somewhere else, for the time being.   “   can you still build?    ”

               “are bragging rights not enough?” austin drawls, head tilted ever so slightly. he takes a careful step forward, and then another — it is all part of a game. “what more could i possibly give you?” while the tone of his voice is low and dangerous, with no hint of hesitation in sight, his question is a genuine one. his pride is his child, his most valuable and prized possession. to give that up, to acknowledge someone else as his better — what more could she want ?

“     not    nearly !    i already have those as it is...    ”    it seems as though their prides are bond to collide ,    her feet firmly planted into the soil like a tree,   his shadow cast stretching over her upon enclosure.  “    hm ...     ”    a cat-like twinkle of mischief catches the light, chin adjusting to his height,  arms hanging idly by her sides.    “    do you see that cliff right over there?   ”    she nudges, impishly glancing over the curve of his shoulder.    “      if you lose...     you have to jump.  aaand ...   --- i’ll hold your cigarettes hostage. no smoking for at least a week !     ”     harsh,  but she’s confident the gamble will pay off.

it’s  a  close  relative  of  satisfaction  that  grows  in  him,  warm  and  sweet  beneath  his  chest,  beholden  to  the  melodic  BEAUTY  of  organisation.  a  work  of  his  soul,  what  it’d  been  yearning  to  tell.  what  more  lay  within ?  what  more  could  yield ?   he  can  almost  hear  his  agents:  this  is  not  the  time  for  a  SYMPHONY  adam.  wry  grin  pulls  onto  marbled  features  almost  surprised  at  himself  as  he  lifts  the  piece  of  paper  with  notes  pencilled  in.  this  feels  right.  this,  he  can  respect  of  himself.  an  eternal  identity.

it’s  only  when  he  reaches  for  the  viola  when  he  realises  he’s  had  an  audience.  eyes  narrow  in  sunlit  gaze  as  he  takes  her  in,  all  at  once  with  stolen  breath  and  beating  heart  —  how  familiar.  but  he  can  hardly  say  that  can  he  ?  that’s  the  world’s  worst  pickup  line,  even  when  one  means  it.  the  bow  twirls  delicately  between  his  fingers  as  he  approaches  slowly.   ❝   my  tiny  dancer  prances  across  the  eastern  skies,  stardust  in dark  tresses  and  moonlight  in .  .  .  hmm  i’ve  meant  to  finish  that  line.   ❞   chin  jerks  towards  her  lips.  ❝  i  suppose  smile’s  a  little  obvious .  .  .  enjoyed  my  little  show ?    ❞    

whatever trance    had wiped any doubt off her mind  &  paved the road into this corner shop, lasted only until the last string was plucked ,    toying with the rhythm of her pulse.  just like a sleepwalker woken from her dreamlike state,  thick sets of lashes flutter hastily as the haze clears along with her throat, and a light tinge of red surfaces with the wave of embarrassment that washes over her dodgy gaze, somehow  - feels steadier on the ground. safer than caught in the tides of his eyes. 

there’s a list of reflexive apologies lodged in her throat she swallows down as soon as his presence is within reach, and rather casually shifts to mirror his moves, synced to every step, she strategically positions herself by his right, stepping forward into the dimly lit room.     “      i’m even tempted to actually buy a ticket, next time.        ”    she quips  taunting,  brushing past whatever urge there was to praise him.   it was undeniably an enthralling piece performed with mastery; each note crafted from tragedy and melancholy, wrath and despair - more than anything, it filled her with a sorrow that wasn’t hers to keep, some borrowed sense of desolation.   

                                        OHQ:TASK001

shoutout to n for making me this beautiful banner & putting up w my nonsense honestly.

“     is that     a challenge ?    ”      the girl beckons  with newfound determination in her step, and neither the redness of wild berries on her cheeks nor the softness of plum feathers that outline jovial features outshine the smooth metal that coats her bones.    “    what do i get if i win ?    ”  

she couldn’t   in a million years explain how or why a mere photography of seemingly nowhere in particular brought such a wave of sorrow with it       --- but something resonated within,  like a voice   - an echo, she couldn’t quite discern among all those crowded memories.    “     no ,   no  ...       i think it’s      -------  it’s really beautiful.    ”  

“     what’s wrong with a hike ?     i mean, think about it...      i need to clear my head, you need a break from constant chatter in your ear    ------ it’d be great .      we wouldn’t even have to talk to each other unless one of us was dying ,  and on the off chance that happened we’d definitely not need to talk to anyone.    ”  

“     what - are you serious ?     you know what ,      i am sorry.   sorry you provided such a huge target and i still missed the mark   -- with a bit more determination maybe the world would've been free of another unhinged maniac  &   the children could finally chant ‘the witch is dead’    -   but clearly this is my punishment for failing some divine power.      ”