Artemis

Looking between herself and Perseus, Artemis tried to gage what kind of scents they would give off based on the auras they sported. It wasn't good, but it would have to do.

She should leave off a close to mortal scent; and frankly, she hated it. It would take precious time to call the wild back to her; to pull from the moon as it pulled at the tides. That time could be the difference between life and death. She often considered death to be worse for an immortal. Mortals went to their assigned places in the Underworld-or whatever realm their specific dead congregated. Immortals either faded or dissolved into a consciousness that needed to regenerate its body. She shuddered thinking of it.

Perseus, however, could be scented as a demigod. Which was better than the god essence he would have otherwise, but he'd still call attention. He wasn't even down to a minor demigod. No! The visible power still rolling off of him was on about the same level as Thalia. (Artemis would never dare inform her lieutenant that the boy had been far more powerful as a demigod than her. Thalia would instantly try to prove her wrong and it would end poorly.)

"You don't look happy," he said as she scrutinized him.

"You don't look mortal," she snapped back.

"I'm trying," he bit back and she sighed.

"Perseus-"

"Percy."

"-imagine every corner of your domain and assign it to someone you trust."

"I can't-"

"It's not a contract, they won't be held to it, just relax your view of responsibility a little."

He crossed his arms and scowled and she barely held back a smirk as she pictured him stomping his foot and sticking out his lip like a toddler.

"Loyalty and accountability, Artemis."

"Loyalty means trust," she insisted. "Think of those you trust and how they emulate your domain."

His scowl deepened, but he appeared to be thinking it over.

"Now, take a breath and let go."

He exhaled deeply, and his aura dimmed.

"Good. You look more like Annabeth than Thalia now."

He blinked at her, surprised.

"Thalia was stunning."

This time she blinked and her eyebrows rose in shock at his statement. He immediately blushed when he saw her reaction.

"Not like that! I mean-maybe like that, but I've never looked at her that way. And I won't! I know she's a hunter. I just- When I died and she was there- And even beside you- But it's a demigod thing. Right?"

She couldn't help the laughter that rolled off of her, shaking her shoulders and pooling tears in her eyes. His flush just worsened, and her laughter softened.

"Sorry," she took a deep breath. "You're just so-" She burst into laughter again and he scoffed and kicked a stone.

Looking at his golden tinged features she sobered a bit when she realized how much she missed his red blush. It was a small absurd detail, but the sputtering boy had grown too much, and changed too little, his heart still so pure.

How long would it take an immortal life to change that?

"Yes," she finally answered. "Demigods auras are not bound as ours are. When you look at them in such a way you are glimpsing their souls."

"Like our true forms?"

"Yes. Only mortals' true forms are tied to their abilities."

"So are ours. You bring both death and life from your bow."

She felt surprise light her features again. It took her a moment to pinpoint when he'd seen her true form and another to imagine what he'd said.

"You see death in my soul?"

"Uhh…"

"I- I've asked Apollo. But we can't really see our own forms." Surely he'd realized that when they were training. "And when you ask people they have to give a reliable account of it… I just…" She wanted to ask. Oh, how she wanted to know what he saw. She trusted him, he would be accurate and truthful, but she couldn't bring herself to question him.

He nodded slowly, concentration on his face as he tracked down the words to his thoughts.

"I had assumed it was something I'd grow into seeing. Or knowing." Finally he locked gazes with her again. "It's not really fair, is it? We can know others so thoroughly and have ourselves defined by how we fit into the world, our domains, but we can never really know ourselves as well as we can show others. And only a few others, too."

It was sad, the way he said it, but a small smile still spread over Artemis's face. She was glad he was one of the few who got to know her.

"You're right. But maybe if you're so definitely defined and believe you know yourself so well, you can't allow yourself to change." She grew a bit somber as she continued. "Apollo changed. Each time he came back from the mortal world he changed, but this time… I wouldn't have recognized him."

He offered a warm, hesitant hand on her shoulder and she was grateful.

"Anyway," she shook herself a little, "right now you've cut off some of the binds of your form."

"Which makes it sound like I should be more powerful," he pouted, earning a giggle from her. She cleared her throat and scowled. She would not giggle at Perseus Jackson. She remembered him answering his door in New Rome in an amusingly disheveled state and her reaction then. That was different, she was laughing at his flustered state, not his dry humor.

"I don't know how else to explain it!" she snapped instead. "It feels like freeing myself from something that had been tied to me. And at the same time it feels like I'm making myself needlessly vulnerable and miserable."

"So it's closer to getting naked?"

She stared at him for a second and his face turned a brilliant gold before he burst out laughing, trying to stammer apologies through his boisterous glee.

She just scoffed and walked away, trying to hide her own blush and small smile.