DRABBLE 01

{conversion}

characters: rachel elizabeth dare; apollo

genre: humor; {not romance}

rating: k {nothing harmful. i think.}

word count: 609

A/N: I'm not actually sure as to whether or not Harvard University offers a Theology elective. But I tried. Bear with me.

"Knock, knock."

Apollo appeared in Rachel's bedroom as if by magic – which she knew was bogus. All he really had to do was think himself there, and that was only because he was a god. He hardly seemed to have enough brain cells to be able to comprehend magic.

"Yes," Rachel sighed from where she lay, sprawled out across her bed, "because saying the word 'knock' in a rhythmic fashion completely gives the illusion that you actually knocked." Two years ago, Rachel Dare would have been surprised at her nerve. Apollo was an Olympian; it was aptly frowned upon to insult one. But after having spent two years in the service of the sun god as his dear Oracle, the annoyed remarks were expected.

Apollo flashed a playful grin. "Thought I'd drop by and see how you were." He squinted as, for the first time, he noticed an array of books surrounding her, all of them opened to random pages. The eight-point font hurt his eyes, and as he hastily flipped them closed – not without complaint from his Oracle – he noted the titles: Catechism of the Catholic Church, The Protestant Reformation, and Islam for Dummies.

"Um – schoolwork, or something?" he guessed. Rachel rolled her eyes.

"No, my lord – I'm thinking of converting." Her sarcasm did not transfer immediately, but when it did, Apollo chuckled.

"You are so very much like Artemis that it's amusing," he pointed out.

Rachel lifted an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment, then. Anyway, I'm starting college in less than a month, and World Religions is one of my father's choice electives for me – apparently if you can compliment a client's religion or something, it'll get you further in life." Apollo furrowed his brow.

"So…if you wish some Jewish businessman a Happy Hanukkah or something, he'll buy your…um, what does your father do again, exactly?" Rachel sighed.

"He makes his profits buying and selling land, remember?" she answered. "But whatever. It's not him that matters. Maybe if I take this class I'll seem…I don't know, normal? Like, maybe someone who doesn't worship ancient Greek deities. By the way, I'm not actually sure Greek Mythology is classified as a religion anymore."

"Hellenistic Paganism, I think," Apollo corrected.

"Hmm – of course you would know that." She considered for a moment. "So would it sound too weird if I actually called myself a Hellenistic Pagan?"

"Go for it," Apollo suggested. "Diversity is always a beautiful thing." Rachel snorted.

"Nah, I'll pass," she decided. "My dad would have a cow. And besides, I'm not sure that's the kind of diversity they're looking for – prestigious universities like Harvard tend to cater to the sensible." Apollo's eyes widened.

"You got into Harvard?" he demanded. "Jeez, Rachel. I didn't even know you were applying!"

"Yeah, thanks for hiding your surprise," Rachel muttered. "And I don't know why you really would expect me to be looking at Harvard. I've only been decked out in Harvard merchandise from the time I could walk."

"But – it – that's amazing, Rachel! Which program?"

Rachel gestured to the dozens of used canvases behind her. "Arts and Culture. What else?"

"But I thought your dad didn't approve of your knack for painting."

She shrugged. "He doesn't. He never did. But he doesn't care, because I got into Harvard University. I think maybe he's hoping I'll change my mind and switch majors."

"And that will happen - "

" – never."

"Well, I suppose congratulations are in order," Apollo said. He smirked. "Where's the liquor?"

"Leave, Apollo."

"Oh, but the party hasn't started yet," the god whined. Rachel narrowed her eyes.

"Out."

"But Rachel - "

"I swear, I'll convert."