"Never let go of that fiery sadness called desire." Patti Smith
The problem with immortality …
Artemis's tongue flicks out, peeking for a millisecond from her pale lips. Silver irises alight upon lines and lines of uniform black lettering, devouring all in their path.
The laws of language are crucial to comprehension - after all, how else would we understand one another, without any set boundaries and understandings? However, it is when those rules are lacking (or even broken) that things become interesting. It is why some even declare those same rules to be guidelines, or even arbitrary altogether. The masters of language casually show their disdain for them.
Of course, that is by their right of experience. They are masters of their art, after all. And as with any other art, learn the rules first - then break them, with style. I hope, with this text, you will reach the point where you may do so in your own writing.
But even before I get ahead of myself, we still must address language itself. What is the point of learning rules, if not for what the rules govern? After all, the host of all that can be done is not merely in the construction, but also within the material.
It is in the ambiguity of words that so much can be manipulated, even before structure. Diction before syntax. And the English diction is marvelous - there are sacrifices in coherence, perhaps, but in the name of a greater range and differing emphasis. This is only proliferated by the multitudes of definitions, interpretations, and shades of meaning of the words that make up the language - it is from these nuances that beauty, that …
Artemis thumbs the bottom corner of the page, chewing a bit of her lip. The foreword had been an excessive self introduction of titles and names that the author held, and a heaping thanks to various muses, aids, and sources. But the title on the slim spine - Whimsy on the Wit of the Words - that had pulled her attention to the book in the first place had also warranted enough interest from her to dive in further. Her choice to read on to the first chapter, titled "Definitions," past the absurd self-inflation, is rewarded by the almost fun of the lyrical flair of the writer. Most definitely, this "Alice J. Stevens" knew what she was talking about. It's certainly worth flipping to the next page.
… art arises, even before the subtle machinations of writers. It is in the precipice between, for one of my favorite examples, honesty against truthfulness. Many would claim those two words to be the same in meaning. However, I find a difference. While being honest means you are truthful, being truthful does not mean you are being honest.
To explain: honesty is the lack of deception. Yet one can just look at the work of any politician worth their salt to learn how to deceive with truth. There are many ways to do this, which I need not go off into a tangent for. No more the less on topic, I consider myself to be quite skilled at this art. It is in the holes of meaning that we try to fulfill - that we come to recognize that lying is not a catch-all for what we desire for it to denote. We try to think of lying to be all of falsehood, to be the antithesis of everything true and good. Ever heard the term lying by omission, perhaps? If if no false information was told, then it was not lying to begin with. But for humans to properly conceive of deception with only a flawed perspective, such casual and inaccurate recontextualization occurs.
To quickly explain how such occurs: someone just heavily implied an answer by stating some established fact, by which the other assumes some answer beyond that vagueness. Only truth was stated, yet dishonesty occurs. It is one of the ways within English in which one manipulates conventions, of both society and language. So, as a warning - be careful when someone tells you they are telling the truth. They might be dishonest.
How about another fun little question? The faults of "I'm sorry," between its understanding of apologies as opposed to condolences? Though some do not care at all - more's the literal pity.
In times where saying sorry has become far too popular, depth of emotion is cheapened. Sorry is most in link to apologies, which of course conveys regrets for one's own faults and wrongdoings that caused trouble for another. Yet the colloquial term is also used in the place of condolences, where one expresses acknowledgement and sympathy for the problems of another. And that usage is wrong.
With that established, it's no wonder that issues can arise. Does saying "I'm sorry" really fit when you're trying to express sadness and support for a friend after their relative's death? Condolences works much better. Used wrongly, sorry carries the feeling of pity and condescension.
On the other hand, the formality of the use of "apologies" over "sorry" greatly aids in sincerity and strength for times that the usage is correct. So, for a positive contrast to the previous example - do some good, use the words in the correct scenarios.
And finally, before more concrete a lesson - in emotions, there's one more example I absolutely love due to the addition of a preposition. Unlike the previous cases, this is not about two words that differ, or a word supplanting two other words. This time, it is the presence of another word that changes the meaning of the original word. A preposition that modifies the subject matter from a verb to a noun, in fact. Just to keynote the subtlety of "in" for this case, or any word, for that matter. For what is the difference of being in-"
Artemis flips th-
The rasp of a heavy wooden door, oiled too well to creak but still brushing against the frame just so slightly, prickles in her ear. Her head snaps towards the sound at her right, and her eyes immediately pinpoint on the trio entering. She clamps the book shut and puts it aside with nary another thought given to it, and ducks into the shelves to find cover.
Sometimes the hunter tracks. Other times, the hunter lays a trap for her prey.
Both are exercises in patience. Both get to know their target. The former tracks, uses fundamental but general knowledge of the potential target.
But the latter has the advantage of intimacy. The time to get to know the prey in question, and to learn the routines and mannerisms of the individual.
Prey is a strong word. Correct, perhaps, but strong. Would she describe the demigod Perseus Jackson that way normally?
Well, besides needing to establish a "normal" first.
Regardless. The goddess spies a glimpse through the books. Approximate hour on a Thursday afternoon. Fourth week, fourth time.
The first was a surprise, second a coincidence, but third? A pattern. Likely formed due to one of his current companions, one she's seen with the demigod every week: the Praetor. Perhaps because Thursday afternoons were unfettered by any occasion of import, so the Praetor was free of duty?
Reyna, if Artemis remembers correctly, is the name. She might have heard the name a few times, from the celebrations of yesteryear and the off-comments of Thalia. A wonderful woman - young, independent, powerful, a force to reckon with.
And someone she can't help but resent, but envy for being right there next to Percy, interacting with him. Interacting with warmth. Happiness. Freedom.
The other companion is unexpected. Somehow more so than other companions from before. There hadn't been any others the first time. In the second, they'd also been accompanied by two of the Seven - the other Praetor and his lover that visited her birthplace; the last, a stumbling drunkard.
This time, there's a six, maybe seven year old girl, plainly skipping ahead of the other two (with the appropriate library volume, although Artemis still detects enough motion to triangulate the girl's location). Cute, really, by first impression. Almost innocent more than anything else, especially with the odd disposable paper crown atop her flouncing ponytailed hair.
She stops at exactly Artemis's aisle, entranced by the colorful books on display. Artemis falters into the shadows, shrouding herself away from the well-lit middle of the building.
Then, Artemis peripherally detects the other two hustling over to catch up with the now motionless child. Juggling her options, she swiftly ducks into the next aisle closer towards the exit, and lightly scampers towards the center. The collision course is set.
She times it to perfection. Reyna, ahead of Percy, reaches a halt, but Percy is still a mid-step behind as Artemis reaches out and encloses her right hand on his left arm and -
They stand in the midst of the Garden of Bacchus, their continuing respective momentums throwing each off balance. It's a testament to his reaction time that his hand nearly at his watch, ready to deploy his shield. But in anticipation of his move, Artemis's hand is already there, blocking his access. As Percy's hand slaps onto hers, she swiftly immobilizes that arm also.
Artemis stares directly at him even while he's looking down between them, processing her unwavering grip over his shield. The shock at being so easily predicted, so easily neutralized, while minute, is telltale in the slight widening of his eyes. In the next instant, he looks up to her face. This time, Percy's jaw drops. "Luna-?"
She leans forward, and her lips are on his.
The goddess yanks him in closer as she turns into his lips with more aggression, and her nerves across her entire body can't help but scream in delight when he adjusts to respond softly.
And then his hands are cradling her head, gently pushing her away, even as he pulls back himself.
The kiss lasted only a few seconds.
She blinks rapidly as she refocuses, assessing what happened.
In the overwhelming instant of the contact, he'd extricated his hands from her loosened hold, and taken advantage of her … distraction to maneuver away.
"I," Percy breathes out, "think I owed you that one." His hands drift from her head, and he flexes his left instinctively, before they come to rest rigidly at her shoulders, holding her in place, apart from him. He pauses, then closes his eyes, breathing unevenly. "But before anything else, Artemis, I really need to know what the absolute fuck is going on."
With him before her, everything she's imagined that she might say to him when they met again over for the past two months flees her mind.
There was not another thing in the sky or another person in the garden - with good reason. The air was hot and heavy, the unfettered sun harsh and unforgiving. And, almost as if in spite, the surrounding flora flourished magnificently, even though weighed down by the oppressive heat.
None of it is conducive to her rationale. Her hands fidget as she pulls them to her sides, and she swallows thickly as thoughts slip between her fingers. "Uhm-"
"Should I ask the questions?" asks Percy, head slightly cocked as he examines her critically. Her eyes try to meet his, but they can't hold his gaze before wavering away.
"Uhm- yes- it's just- I-" The words cascade out of her mouth as Artemis tries to reestablish some sense of self-control. "I- since when? Wha-?"
Thankfully, Percy understands her well enough. "It wasn't that hard to figure out after you left. I had a few hunches … anyway, the gods were smart enough to keep it as quiet as possible. It helps that both you and I had been under the radar for a while already." He rubs his thumb against her shoulder, before taking her arm and leading her to a sitting position on the grass. "By that, I mean the Hunters never being in the public eye. And me not being unlucky or doing anything stupid that would get attention. Besides a breakup, I guess."
"The people around us were … convinced that you were some minor god. Annabeth too, though I wouldn't put it past her to put the pieces together. I dunno, I haven't talked with her since." Percy settles down opposite of her, hands drifting down along her bare arm until his hands cusp one of hers. He looks down at it contemplatively. "But word has gotten out that you're missing. Your Hunt is searching for you. Only Hermes is on the lookout, though. Apparently only a few know some of the exact details of what's going on: Lord Zeus, Father, and Aphrodite."
Artemis shivers, and hides her face behind her other hand. She'd erased every footprint, physical and metaphysical. Overkill, because no one else knew half the signs to track as well as she did, and she'd covered all of them. No one could hunt her down if she went into hiding. Only Apollo could find her with his ridiculous precognition powers, but he still didn't have access to them. She could feel it.
Percy looks back to her, and Artemis feels one of his hands tense before it's gone in a flash. Nothing as bad as him feeling her every tremble - where did all her strength go? "There was a bit of a … private interrogation, let's say, by Zeus. Thankfully, I didn't know anything that would get me in trouble. Father explained some things to me after, though I'd guessed enough at that point." Acute green searches timid silver, and the silver slides away under the pressure. "Surprisingly, Aphrodite hasn't said anything to anyone. Anyone else, that is. She swore to me on the River Styx she had nothing to do with my relationships. That no one did."
Everything implied by that statement hangs in the air, toxic and irrefutable.
"Which leaves only two people left. My own relationship troubles are my own little … issue." He finally lets go of her, straightens his back, and rests his chin on his fists. "And Annabeth's, I suppose," he adds on as an afterthought. "But ignoring that, independent. My own little thing. I wasn't influenced at all. So that leaves you."
Artemis's now free hand fiddles at the fabric of her shorts, and she peeks under her hand to stare at the black denim under her fingertips. Anywhere but at his eyes. Still, she feels his pervasive gaze boring into her soul, and she squirms in discomfort.
"Eight weeks of silence. And you show up today, out of nowhere. And how am I going to deal with Reyna later? Jeez, I hope she hasn't started some search party. Crap." He rolls his neck, and the violent cracks that fill the air make her flinch.
"Wait. I got this thing now." He pulls something (a phone?) from his pants pocket. "I'll text Reyna before she does anything crazy, and I beg you" - a hand brushes away hers, and pulls her chin up so she's staring at him in the eyes, where she can see the depths imploring her for some sense, some answer - "talk to me. Get yourself together. Please. I need - I need to understand."
"I'm-" He takes a shaky breath, dropping his hand. "I'm really trying to hold it together right now, because b**** f****** h**** a** t*** g***d***** c*** a** c*** asina irrumabo stercore sumen gallus γαμώ κόλαση σκατά γάιδαρος γαμημένος σκύλα!"
The curses tumble out of his mouth with increasing vehemence but decreasing volume, until it's only a vicious murmur. Nonetheless, the sheer ferocity startles Artemis as she stares at his frustrated face, frightened and wide-eyed.
Percy visibly calms himself, shoulders rolling back and falling in a sigh. "Sorry - jus- I needed that. Just - it would help if you got yourself together, because I'm lost enough with all this shit as it is, and now you're here, and it's just -"
He stands. "Lemme just tell Reyna not to worry. Please have something to say when I come back." He turns abruptly and blazes through the garden, not looking back once before stopping just as suddenly ten yards away.
She's screwed up beyond belief. She'd never been in a worse position in all her life. Not in the Ancient times, not in the years following, not even being captured by Atlas or being stuck on Delos.
Because this time, there's no one on her side, no one that she can trust. And no one she can blame for not trusting in her. If the details got out - and out they would almost inevitably go - her Hunters would feel betrayed. No Olympians would rely on her again. Her almost pristine reputation, gone. Her life's edict, her entire identity as the Virgin Huntress, as Artemis, compromised by the catastrophe of the Summer Solstice.
She'd known the implications of her actions, but the consequences only now dawn on her with talking to Percy again.
Artemis observes Percy, the rhythmic rise and fall of his arms as he types away. He's dressed almost formally - a light blue dress shirt and khakis, even a tie. It's as if he's in the same clothes he wore to the dance, but in different colors. That, and a bit of a darker tan. And longer hair. Though the entire ensemble, his appearance - it feels messy. Unkempt.
He turns back to face her, and she blushes as he pauses to examine her in return. If he'd hardly changed since their last meeting, then she was hardly the same person. While Percy was still dressed reasonably formally, for whatever reason, she'd just worn what felt comfortable and unassuming. A silver blouse, olive dixie shorts, white tennis shoes, and letting her hair down so that she could blend in within New Rome. Although she'd kept her skin impossibly porcelain in the sunny weather.
She rubs her arms, feeling exposed under his scrutiny.
Percy walks back, methodical and unhurried now. But he goes on a detour long before reaching her, making his way through the garden until he's sitting on a backless stone bench fifteen feet away, across a patch of petunias comprised of every color. He makes no motion for her to come closer, no indication of invitation at all. And so she remains sitting on the grass, looking up at him as she desperately gathers her thoughts. He's frustratingly silent as he settles down, pulling up his legs underneath him, and leaning his head into his right hand. Then …
"Why?"
The question is quiet, but Artemis hears it clearly through the humming bees. She struggles with her response, not sure where to begin, but then his questions continue.
"Why were you there at the Winter Solstice? Why'd you lie to me about who you were? Why'd you not say anything at Camp Half Blood? Why all the Iris messages? Was it all just a lie?"
The questions are delivered without any listlessly, without any emotion backing them. And Artemis can't help but reflect to the last time she'd met Percy as Artemis, where their differences had kept him so excruciatingly distant. After all the progressing intimacy, when she'd been Luna - and now, only the shock cold of realism.
The goddess can't help but furiously wipe at her eyes as she finally answers.
"I- I never lied about who I was." She gasps quietly as she finishes the sentence. Seeing him open his mouth, she hurries on. "Please, just - just let me speak."
After a quick appraisal, he nods slowly. Artemis tucks her legs to the side, and shoves her hands into her lap. "I, I hate lying. I don't lie. Lies - lies are for the incompetent. It's just- I- I got caught up with everything, and it just consumed me, and even now-" she inhales sharply, "even now, all the emotions, it's just so overwhelming. I didn't mean for all this to happen, but I didn't know how to stop any of it, I didn't want to stop any of it-"
Another breath. He's listening to her, at least.
"It's not like I'm not Luna - I am Luna, it's just another name, it's always been me-" A final, sharp, intake. She can't keep talking on like this. From the beginning, coherently. What did he ask first?
"I'd- I was there during the Winter Solstice because I couldn't stand staying at Olympus. I'd gone down to Central Park because it was close, convenient. It was familiar, it was nature. And then I found you - or you found me - and then I got caught up in trying to understand you better, and it was so much easier forgetting myself. And, and you made it so easy to, and then by the end … by the end, I was happy just to not care for anything … anything but be happy."
Artemis wipes away a few tears before they can leave her eyes. Her eyes refocus on Percy, who's straightfaced but clearly engrossed in her words.
"I didn't know what to do after you pulled me from the water, and one thing led to another, and I hadn't really gone on from there expecting anything else. I thought you'd be like the usual male, even though you'd proven me wrong so many times already, didn't expect you to try and keep in touch, and by the time I'd found you in Camp Half Blood I was too scared of trying to reveal I was also Luna. You were troubled then, how was I to predict how you would react?"
"And for the Iris Messages - I was only too happy to be distracted from everything else. I didn't want to lose any of it. And then I'd finally called you on that day - well, I didn't intend to. I'd been delirious enough from drinking too much to initiate an Iris Message myself, and then it had gotten redirected to you, and then just seeing you I'd opened up everything I could say without giving anything away …"
Her ramble finally trickles down, and Percy uses that moment to tentatively interject. "So." He swallows thickly, eyes both on her and in the distance, remembering. "You were actually mourning a friend's death, then."
"Y-yes," Artemis responds, shivering as she recalls the past. "Nothing was ever false - I'd actually drowned myself in that much liquor, because another Hunter actually died-" the goddess shudders again. "I just c-couldn't take another one of my followers dying."
"I've - I've never lost so many Hunters so quickly. Starting off with Zöe … and all those that perished in the defense of Olympus. And then - and then again at the Wolf House, and then near the end by fucking thrice damned Orion …" She trails off poignantly. "The Hunter have always been made up by whoever wished to join. And I've so rarely lost any, perhaps one or two a century at most. There's always been enough time to grieve, to mourn the loss. But then the wars came, on the grand cycle, and we had to be involved. So swiftly, everyone departing - even all the handmaidens that traditionally stay at Olympus and the few palaces eventually went off to battle. And I couldn't stand Olympus, seeing my empty palace, I couldn't stand Camp Half Blood, I moved the Hunt away as soon as I could …"
Artemis swipes away at a final tear. "And now there are less than a dozen left. I haven't had the heart to recruit anyone … it's too soon. Half of them were with me, and then Mar- Martha died that day, and then I went looking for comfort …"
She sees some grand realization forming in Percy's eyes, in his posture. "And then I found it. And … I've been obsessed with the source of it ever since."
"I didn't know how I could anticipate something so much. I didn't know how I could be so happy. I didn't know why I wanted to spend so much time with a male - actually, I do know the answer for all of that." She smiles, a quiet ray of moonlight. "Because of you. Even if I didn't know what I really wanted to do then. And by the time I did - well-"
Artemis's smile fades.
What else could she say? "I've … I've screwed up, so badly. I am so very sorry for all the trouble I probably caused you. I- I don't know how it came to this, but all of it - all of my actions and intentions have always been genuine. I just - just don't understand them, or what's to come … I'm trying to follow them where they go. I don't know where that will be, but I know that I feel so much more free, so much more happy, so much more myself doing so. I am Luna, I've listened to all your stories and problems. I am Artemis, the goddess that's come to understand you and respect you all the more for it. I don't know where any of this is going … but I'm sorry for deceiving you."
The goddess takes one final shaky breath. She's said her piece. She'd - she'd probably said more than she'd originally wanted to reveal, but at this point it hardly mattered. She'd answered the best she could, and everything that could be said was said.
After a long minute of processing, Percy finally speaks up. "I'm … I'm sorry about the Hunters. I hadn't really realized …"
A twinge of irritation passes. Artemis despises the pity - but it's not pity, it's empathy. And she's moving on from that, as much as it hurts. "It was … it was never your place to know."
Silence falls again. The weather is no better, and sweat begins to make their clothing damp and sticky.
"Is that why you're here? After all this time? Why now? Where were you?"
"I- I've been hiding out in New Rome almost to begin with. Any divine use of power, especially transportation, is potentially traceable, and here I could stay without any of that. I could blend among the crowds, the Olympians would never expect me to hide in a city. And … and I remembered from our talks, your future plans in this city."
She swallows, concerned for that awkward admission. "I didn't know when you would arrive, especially with my … other identity's origin from here possibly affecting your decision. But then, serendipitously, I saw you at the library. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what to do, and it was too risky to follow you. I couldn't find where you'd gone after, but then you were there again the next week. I left another week to be sure, and try to figure out what to say, but I'd been too scared."
"Today, today I just went for it. In retrospect, it was foolish … but I don't think anyone will search New Rome for me after that bit of teleportation. I suppose … oh, this is so embarrassing …" Artemis pulls up her legs, and buries her face in her knees.
…
"What now, then?" Percy asks unevenly.
…
"I don't know," Artemis whispers, but her voice carries nonetheless. "I was hoping you would know."
The goddess hears the discordant grind of hands clenching, the click of his jaw tightening, the muttered curse under his breath.
She flinches as he finally explodes.
"How is this fair? Irrumabo, gods damned a-" He cuts himself off, before staring at her accusingly. "You ruined the night for me, did you know that? No, you ruined the sky for me. Every time I'm outside, I see the sky, and just look up and see you. Or I don't see you. Whenever, day or night. I see you, in the hours before twilight as you phase in, or through the night, or in the morning, as you phase out, and feel reassured. Even when it's a new moon, when I can't see you at all, that I can look up in the day and know you're there. Or when I know you're not, I just feel fucking worse."
"Did you expect this to work out? These relationships aren't ever fulfilling, even my mom moved on! I don't even - I'm here, all myself, trying to deal with this, and you're not even all here, I can't even have all your attention because you're a goddess, you can't even be here in your complete form-"
"No." She can't do much besides feel guilty for all the pain she's caused him, and let him let out his anger justifiably, without divine retribution. But she can't let this point slide.
Percy stops in his tracks, likely because he just remembered she's a goddess. And it makes her feel all the worse, wielding such power over him, unintentionally but undeniably affecting how he acts with her. He simmers, silent and unwilling to interrupt her. "I don't … allow my presence to be invoked like other gods do. I have long learned my lessons where the others do not - I don't let prayers get to my head, I have distanced myself from the trivialities of the mortal world, I am past claiming superiority over mortals. How - how do I explain …?
"Gods assume their divine form when they're a singular being. And you've learned that seeing a god's form is lethal. But the divine form can be seen by mortals. It's just a matter of us consciously limiting the metaphysical loose energies. The others are too … arrogant to bother with self restraint." Artemis can't help but snort a little, despite the current atmosphere. "It's a badge of power, a casual display that forces mortals to avert their eyes from us, just because we can. For there is naught else they can do in our divine apathy. Amensalism, taken to the twelfth degree."
"But I've, I've hated that. After … maturing, and learning to restrain my temper from the ancient days, there was no place else I wished to be but with my Hunt. Even t-they, with my blessing, couldn't look at my form. So I learned how to control that power, and I've remained my cohesive self for over two millennia. Even for the Greek and Roman divide, the Romans almost never invoked Diana over the course of history. The Romans never talk about my Hunt. So I stayed with my Hunters … and …"
"So I am here, all of myself. With you. With all these … emotions, because of you."
No.
"For you."
Percy releases a directionless, irritated growl. "What am I supposed to do, though? What can I do? You are the virgin goddess. Like, who else? Hestia? Not even Athena, because of all her children, but you are the untouchable. What will I do, what will you do when some details of a relationship get out? What will your Hunters do, what would the other gods do? What if they try to screw with me, what if they try to screw with you?"
He stands, insistent on making a point. "How are you even sure? Is it even worth it, is it even right? Whatever your feelings, I don't - I don't think we should be together."
The words fall heavier than the sky on her shoulders.
"Bu-? wha-?" Artemis doesn't know if she's yelling, or screaming, or laughing, or crying. All she knows is that she's know standing now, vibrating with confused outrage, despising the distance they put between them beyond measure. "Why? I -"
"Well what's the point? Like, why me? Do you know how long whatever would last? Do you even really know your own feelings? How is this fair, Lu- Artemis?"
Are those tears on her face? "I'm in love with you! I'm in love with you, alright?!"
But then, for all his earlier vehemence, Percy responds with nothing. He only stands there, across the rich and ponderous petunias, with next to no visible reaction. Only … only the most minute of frowns. His eyes glimmer with night, the same utterly inscrutable emotions as before.
"DON'T YOU GET IT?" The goddess darts, stomps, darts through the bloom, tearing up the flowers and apathetically knocking aside a small statue underfoot in her disregard for everything. Everything, that is, but Percy.
Artemis dives into his chest, arms up and hands clutching her head - then, with fists raised and ready to pummel him, she screams her soul out deep into his heart. "I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU, YOU BLOODY FUCKING BAST-"
And then delicately, delicately, Percy snatches her hands from the air, as if they had no strength or force or power or reason behind them to begin with. She stares down, ashamed, before tracking his left hand with her eyes as he gently pulls her right hand between their stomachs. Then, heart beating out of her chest, Artemis turns her head to watch as he lets go, to use both hands to bring her other hand up to his face, twisting it to face him when reaches chest-level.
Their gazes meet, and silver and confused and despairing and embarrassed locks on emerald and tranquil and anxious and lamenting.
He lowers his head to meet her by the forehead, then, oh so excruciatingly slowly, pulls her hand closer to his mouth, and then kissing her where her palm meets her wrist. No - not quite kissing - resting his dry lips on her tingling skin, while her slack fingers tremble over his now closed eyes.
"And I- … oh, fuck me … and I- love- you."
Artemis almost missed the whisper, the disjointed phrase that falls from his lips. She more feels the declaration as puffs of air against her skin than anything she consciously hears, but her insides both freeze ice cold and melt red hot all the same.
She's absolutely certain she heard them.
And now, at that thought, her insides seize and revolt, as if her organs lurched. A tingling wave of electricity consumes her whole body.
Percy drops her hand, and it falls to rest on his chest. He takes a deep breath, which Artemis unconsciously mirrors.
Then he seizes her by the head and kisses her, fervid and determined. Artemis's eyes flash open in shock, completely taken aback, before fluttering half-lidded as she reciprocates with all her soul. One of his hands finds its way to her back, still drawing her into his body almost painfully, and she clutches at his shirt, trying to find some grip to hold onto in the tumultuous deluge of passion.
Fuck the world and fuck the gods and fuck the Hunt. She wants the person that's making her spirit swell beneath her skin, the person that's making her heart touch heaven and hell, the person that's drowning her with passion she only hopes she can reciprocate.
She wants Percy.
Finally, he pulls away, eyes softly shut and breathing wildly. Artemis gasps for air too. Her bewilderment from before the kiss now feels like nirvana, compared to the conflicting feelings she's flooded by now.
And after another eternity, his eyes open and he relinquishes his grip on her body. Their eyes lock once more. Percy takes a shaky, measured, breath - far more composed than the shuddering nigh-heaves that makes her feel so out of control. His hands ghost down her from before resting around her waist, as hers find their way to his shoulders - just like at the fateful solstice.
Then he pulls her closer, steps in closer, wrapping his hands behind her lower back as her arms fall to snake their way through his embrace to cusp his upper back, and their heads find their way to the groove of the other's neck.
Finally, he raises an arm to pat and rub her head, before raising his own head and pulling Artemis in tighter, almost painfully close. Still comforting away, Percy holds her head to his chest, where she listens to the gradually calming pulse of his heart as his chest rumbles with his unhurried, repeated, admission.
"And I love you."
Artemis opens her eyes to stare out across Percy, to where a statue of Bacchus watches them almost in accusation - and closes her eyes once more. She settles into place, taking in the glorious warmth that Percy emanates. It soothes her hyperactive body, even if her thoughts remain delirious.
"Fucking Athena," she hears him whisper. "Fucking fatal flaw."
Percy partially disentangles himself from her to move over the bench, and she follows suit. A leg on each side, he sits, and Artemis lowers herself over him, wrapping her arms and legs around him.
She can't remember the last time she'd given or received personal affection. At least, besides with Percy. It's been so long, and the wondrous rush of contact is the most addictive drug.
It's there, with her head tucked into the crook of his neck, face turned outwards, that she listens to him speak. That she listens with a breaking heart.
"This just - it can't work. What - what are we supposed to do? I've loved getting to know you, getting to spend time with you, but I don't even know if we enjoy the same things. And even then - am I supposed to join you and the Hunt? But that would be staying, and all those Ancient Laws say you aren't supposed to. And me going about my life, getting old, getting a job or something - how will that work out? When I grow up, what if you don't want to stay anymore? What if things change?" He pauses, sighing. His heart is beating like a drum, pulsing into the rhythm of her own.
"No. Things will change. Things always change. I'll change. I'll grow." She can his muscles warp on her skin, feel his face twist into some distorted version of a smile. "But you won't. But you won't. Because gods don't change."
He repeats his statement again - no, he amends it. "Because gods can't change."
Artemis flinches, her embrace tightening. Her mind flashes back to that first night, to that soul-condemning dance, to her desperate belief in that glorious midnight that things could be different. That things for her weren't absolute, that she could change.
"Right? Didn't you say?" He chuckles bitterly, and his own cuddle constricts around her. "And it's because of that that things won't work. I see what you mean now, when you said gods couldn't change. You just get … immortalized as who you are. You get stuck."
But … didn't she change? If she hadn't, would she even be here in this situation?
"You'll be stuck while I keep changing. Son of the Sea, hm? It's in my nature."
What would happen if she changed?
"But my fatal flaw is loyalty - I know - I know that I will care, I know I will love you forever. But my forever ends. Your forever, though … can you say the same?"
Her lips begin to move in response, even though she doesn't know her answer yet. But then he grabs at back, bunching up her blouse underneath his fists, and she stops. The sun above burns on her skin, hotter than ever.
"Don't - don't answer. Because if you couldn't love me forever, it wouldn't be worth it. And if you could … then I love you too much to let you hurt yourself that way."
Her limbs are too weak to keep him from leaving. And with a final, far too tender kiss on her forehead, Percy does exactly that.
The problem of immortality … is that there is too much time.
Artemis weeps.