To readingbooksforlife- (Chapter 38) He's like a pincushion for ego deflation- just tiny little pricks here and there and the job's done, really :P (Chapter 39) I would unironically love one of those bikes, they just sound like the absolute disaster I can get behind ^_^
To Imagine Coldplay- RIP Chadwick, you were the best
To 8Ball3- (Chapter 37) Why won't you cut my head off, that's rude! (Chapter 38) Reyna is a lowkey softie, but don't ever say that out loud *shush* (Chapter 39) I'm imagining it, and I'm enjoying it ^_^
Tyson and Ella were not good at waiting. They stood on the steps of Jupiter's temple. Ella was pacing and wringing her hands. Tyson was bouncing up and down in excitement, marvelling at his sister's work- even from Temple Hill, they could see the earth undulating and making enemies airborne, the famed green energy, hurricanes careening in any and all directions. Each time thunder rolled or a gale was particularly sharp and loud, Tyson clapped and cheered, "That's my sister!" He saw Arion, gasping. "Yay, Zoom Pony!"
Apollo was not surprised that Tyson had dubbed Arion 'Zoom Pony', or that he seemed happier to see the horse than him. He was surprised, however, that Arion allowed the Cyclops to pet his snout. Tyson pointed up at the sky. "That's my sister!" Arion snorted. "Our sister!" Tyson corrected. His smile wilted a little, confused. "Zoom Pony is brother?"
"Tyson." Hazel cut in. "We have to go, but we'll talk later, OK?"
"OK!" Tyson beamed. His bare chest was now completely covered with tattooed lines of prophecy.
"Late." Ella accused, scuttling over. Heavy hessian bags hung from her belt, swinging and clunking together like a desk toy Apollo had seen in Hephaestus's office. "Very late. Come on, Apollo. You're late." Apollo bit back the urge to argue he had been a bit busy, sliding off Arion's back. He waited for Meg, but she stayed on with Hazel.
"You don't need me for the summoning thing." She shrugged. "I'm gonna help Hazel and unleash the unicorns."
"But-"
"Gods' speed." Hazel told him. Arion vanished, leaving a smoking trail down the hillside and Tyson petting empty air.
"Awww." He pouted. "Zoom Pony left."
"Yes, he does that." Apollo agreed robotically. He tried to convince himself Meg would be fine, that he would see her soon. The last words he ever heard from her would not be 'unleash the unicorns'. "Now," he said, "if we're ready?"
"Late. Later than ready." Ella complained. "Pick a temple. Yes. Need to pick." Green light haloed a hilltop. Tyson squealed, laughing delightedly.
"Sister kicks butt!"
"I need to-?" Apollo began, trying to keep the conversation on track.
"Pick a temple." Ella repeated, itching at her feathers.
"Single-god summoning." Tyson grinned. He did his best to roll up his trouser leg while hopping over to Apollo on one foot. "Here, I will show you again. It is on my thigh."
"That's OK!" Apollo insisted hastily. "I remember. It's just…" He scanned the hill. So many temples and shrines, but not nearly enough. If they got through this, Apollo could not wait to see Jason bring his life to work here.
There were some obvious no's. He would not be summoning Juno. He would definitely not bother with Venus. Sumnaus was a nonstarter- he'd answer his call, promise to be right over and fall asleep again.
Apollo gazed up at the giant statue of Jupiter Optimus Maximus, his purple toga nearly black, drenched as it was, and flapping sharply, heavily, in the blustering winds. C'mon, the statue seemed to say, you know you want to.
The most powerful of the Olympians. It was well within his power to smite the emperors' armies, heal his zombie wound and set everything right at the camp named in his honour. Thunder drew Apollo's attention skyward and he was only realising now how strange it was to have a storm of such ferocity with no lightning.
Jupiter might even notice all the heroic things Apollo had done of late, maybe decide he had suffered enough and free him from this punishing mortal form.
Then again, he might not. Maybe Dear Old Dad was just waiting for Apollo to call him just to rumble the heavens with his laughter and a deep, divine NOPE!
To his surprise, Apollo realised he did not want his godhood back that badly. He didn't even want to live that badly. If Jupiter expected him to crawl to him for help, begging for mercy, he could stick his lightning bolt right up his cloaca maxima.
Apollo decided he liked storms just fine without lightning.
He looked around the temples again, but deep down he knew. There had only ever been one choice, he had always known which god he would call. "Follow me." He told Ella and Tyson. He ran for the temple of Diana.
Admittedly, he had never been a huge fan of his twin's Roman persona. As Apollo, he had never really changed from Greek to Roman. Artemis on the other hand… he could only describe it as her moody teenage years; changes her name to Diana, cuts her hair and hangs out with a different, more hostile set of maiden hunters, starts associating with Hecate and the moon, basically just really acting out. When they first relocated to Rome, they were worshipped together, as twins, in a shared temple. But it wasn't long until Diana went off and did her own thing. Apollo found him and his sister not talking like they used to when they were young and Greek.
He was apprehensive about summoning her Roman incarnation, but he needed help and Artemis- Diana- was the most likely to respond, even if she would never let him hear the end of it afterwards. Besides, he missed her terribly. If his time as a mortal had taught him anything, it was care for the family that cared for you. And if he was going to die tonight, which seemed increasingly likely, he wanted to see his sister one last time.
Her temple was an outdoor garden, as expected of the goddess of the wild. Inside a ring of mature oak trees gleamed a silver pool with a single perpetual geyser burbling in the centre. Apollo imagined the place was meant to evoke Diana's old oak-grove sanctuary at Lake Nemi- one of the first places the Romans had worshipped her. At the edge of the pool stood a fire pit stacked with wood, ready for lighting. It was only when he thought of fire, did he realise he would be capable of it- the rain fell in a ten feet radius around the grove.
"Apollo should light the fire." Ella said. "I will mix ingredients."
"I will dance!" Tyson announced. Apollo wasn't sure that if that was part of the ritual or if he just felt like it, but when a tattooed Cyclops decides to launch into an interpretive dance routine, it was best not to ask questions.
Ella rummaged in her supply pouches, pulling out herbs, spices and vials of oil. Apollo looked around for a lighter or a box of matches. Nothing. Then he realised it made perfect sense. He could have the wood pre-stacked for him, but Diana, always the wilderness expert, would expect him to create his own fire.
He unslung his bow and pulled out an arrow. He gathered the lightest, driest kindling into a small pile. It had been a long time since he had started a fire the old mortal way- spinning an arrow in a bowstring to create friction- but he gave it a go.
He fumbled half a dozen times, nearly poking his eye out. He tried to ignore the sound of explosions and thunder in the distance- was the thunder getting quieter? He spun the arrow until his gut wound felt like it was opening, his hands slick with sweat.
He almost laughed, delirious and giddy, when the tiniest of flames appeared. After some desperate cupping and puffing and praying, the fire was lit. He stood, trembling from exhaustion. Tyson kept dancing to his own internal music, flinging out his arms and spinning, kicking his feet. Ella began sprinkling her proprietary blend of oils, spices and herbs into the pit. The smoke smelled like a Mediterranean summer feast.
The valley turned quiet, as if he had stepped back into Harpocrates's sphere of silence. Perhaps it was just a lull in the fighting, the only sounds a distant, gentling downpour. To Apollo, it felt like the camp was holding its breath, waiting for him to complete the ritual. With shaking hands, he pulled the Sibyl's jar from his backpack.
"What now?" He asked the harpy.
"Tyson," Ella called, waving him over, "that was good dancing. Now show Apollo your armpit." Tyson lumbered over, grinning and sweaty. He lifted his left arm much closer to Apollo's face than he would have liked.
"See?"
"Oh, gods." Apollo recoiled, refraining from pinching his nose. "Ella, why would you write the summoning ritual in his armpit?"
"That's where it goes." She replied simply.
"It really tickled!" Tyson laughed.
"I will- I will begin." Apollo tried to focus on the words and not breathe any more than necessary. However, he found Tyson had excellent personal hygiene. Whenever he was forced to inhale, he did not pass out from body odour, despite the dancing. He could only really smell a hint of peanut butter. "O, protector of Rome!" Apollo read aloud. "O, insert name here!"
"Uh," Ella fluttered, "that's where you-"
"I will start again. O, protector of Rome. O, Diana, goddess of the hunt. Hear our plea and accept our offering!" He did not remember all the lines and even if he did, he would not be telling you readers. There was enough godly trouble without random, benign summonings.
Several times, he choked up- he was tempted to add personal bits, to let Diana know it wasn't just anyone making a request. This was her brother! He was special!
But he stuck to the armpit script. At the appropriate moment (insert sacrifice here), he dropped the jar into the fire. The glass shattered immediately, releasing a sigh of silver fumes. He finished the incantation. Tyson mercifully lowered his arm. Ella stared at the fire, then at the sky, her nose twitching anxiously.
"Apollo hesitated." She said. "He didn't read the third line right. He probably messed up. I hope he didn't mess up."
"Your confidence is heart-warming." Apollo deadpanned. But he shared her concern. There were no signs of divine help, the red full moon continued to leer at him, no hunting horns in the distance- just a fresh round of explosions from the Oakland Hills and the vast static of incessant rain. Crying and screaming came from New Rome. Apollo squeezed his eyes shut.
"You messed up." Ella decided.
"Give it time!" He insisted. "Gods don't always show up immediately!"
"Yes." Ella agreed, wringing her hands. "Tyson and Ella will wait here in case the goddess shows up. Apollo should go fight stuff."
"Aww." Tyson complained. "But I wanna fight stuff."
"Tyson will wait here with Ella." The harpy repeated, mind made up. "Apollo, go fight."
Apollo scanned the valley. Several rooftops in New Rome were now on fire. Meg would be fighting in the streets, doing gods-knew-what with her weaponised unicorns. Hazel would be desperately shoring up the defences as zombies and ghouls boiled up from the sewers, attacking civilians. They needed help. Apollo had to go, he needed to go. But just thinking about joining the battle made his stomach flare with pain. He had fallen under Tarquin's will so easily in the tomb. Being near him would just accelerate his condition. Those dryads had been right.
The Oakland Hills were silhouetted with flickering explosions. He could see no green light. The emperors must have been battling Frank's defenders of the Caldecott Tunnel by now. Without Arion or his glow-in-the-dark bike, Apollo wasn't sure he would make it there in time to do any good, but it seemed like his least horrible option.
"Charge." He said miserably, jogging across the valley.
I'm three chapters in to Lou's Past Part 2- this child is such a brat, I love her XD