From Ash
Around him was total destruction, there were books and other sorts of debris bubbling to surface. Ash looked down as a drowned and mottled baby doll brushed against his leg. He picked the waterlogged toy up, stroking his fingers across it's worn face. A little girl had played with this, played and played until the paint was wearing off. Her fingers were nibbled and scarred, the scars of a teething child. Something else brushed against his leg and Acheron looked down and almost wretched. A young girl bobbed at his feet, her sweet face twisted in horror, slightly bloated from being in the water. Tightening his jaw, Ash tucked the doll into the girls arms where it belonged, and gently pushed the girl out to sea. Bodies were beginning to float to the surface and the sight made Ash want to vomit.
Turning his back to the carnage, he let out a breath. What now? His only home was floating to the bottom of the ocean. He couldn't help but think that it was his fault. If only he hadn't cried out for her. If only he had kept their secret better. If only he had been able to get to his sister's side in time. The picture of her perfect face drifted through his mind, stained with her blood, with her son's, with Ash's.
"Theo! Appie need Theo! Mama! Mama come to Appie. Mama!"
His nephew's cries echoed in his skull, and he wanted to smash it against the rocks on the shore. Why had this happened?
"Ryssa's dead, you bastard!"
Came his brother's voice reverberating in his brain. Ryssa's dead. Those words tore at his mind, ripping his sanity to shreds. His sweet sister, the one that had saved him, tried to show her love in every action. She was the only one that loved him no matter what. He remembered her bringing him apples, showing him the outdoors, remembered her tears when their bastard of a father offered her off to Apollo. His body and mind ached from the loss, his knees trembled, his hands shook. They had called out for him, crying for him to protect them. Damn Artemis.
Artemis
Thinking of her automatically turned his mind from pain to rage. He pictured the goddess in all her glory. Golden skin. Fiery hair. He pictured wrapping his fingers in all of that hair and ripping her head from her perfect thought brought a wave of pleasure. This was her fault. She had drugged him that night, making it impossible for him to save his sister and nephew from the Apollites.
As if she read his mind, Artemis appeared in front of him. She looked almost sick, if a goddess could be sick. Her usually fibrant hair hung limp, her skin was pale and washed out. She was still so beautiful it made him ache. He wanted to reach out and coax the frown on her face into a smile, but at the same time he wanted to bathe in her blood.
"Acheron I-" she began
"Go to hell." He snarled, and barely held back a wince when he saw the pain flash in her eyes.
"I know you're mad bu-"
"Mad? You think I'm MAD? Honey we blew right past mad when you drugged me, now we're at pissed the fuck off. Go. To. Hell." Ash shot back at her
She had steeled herself for his anger, so her eyes did not flash with pain this time, but he knew his words affected her. She hardened her face into the scowl that made grown men quiver. Acheron used to be that afraid of her. But now he felt nothing. He wasn't afraid of anyone anymore. He was The Great Destroyer after all. His mother had brought out the god in him, and he would never cower again.
"Artemis, go away. Now." He couldn't stand to look at her face anymore. He turned away from her and heard the whoosh of air as she left.
"I can't believe that little bitch showed her face. The unbelievable audacity of the Greeks." His mother's voice that he'd never heard out loud. He turned to look at her, and inhaled deeply.
"Mother".