Through the bars of a golden cage {Apollo}

[Ami the Mess]

I'm still alive. That much is true
I've never lied, well, I guess I've told a few.
There's nothing to see because I brought nothing to show.
The conversation got too deep, I shrug and tell you I don't know.

”Funny how things work out. One minute, you're in a good place, having fought for acceptance and won it. The next, the sky is green, the grass is blue and you're watching “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” with a shroomed-up Fate.

Yeah, you read that right. Welcome to my world.”

Vegetation hissed at the dame's black-stockinged legs as she slid through the dusky forest, moving in that magic hour like one of its own ghosts. Mist hung heavily in the air, toying with her senses. It felt almost surreal, like a state between sleep and waking. She didn't know why she was walking, why she felt so compelled to rise from her peaceful grotto and swim through the moonlight. The silver beads clung to her skin, painting her blood-hued hide darker yet. Wide brown eyes slid over the seamless mesh of silver shapes, looking at all but seeing nothing. She floated through the cold like a ghost, lost in thoughts that probably weren’t even her own. A sound like the tinkling of sleet on wind chimes slid seamlessly into her reverie until it began to make sense in the context of the night. Her mind vaguely commented on it, thinking it was nice that the shadows had deigned to play music for her. It was strange though, for she felt so tired. Shapes bloomed and withered without ever solidifying while the ground seemed to twist under her feet. But they never stumbled. Her body was bearing her exhausted mind of its own accord, out on a midnight stroll. The sleepmind of Amaranth was puzzled, trying to discern if it was in a dream or if she had developed the propensity for sleepwalking. The whisper of silver bells grew louder. Curious as a little foal wondering where it was being led, she dropped her head to examine the ground beneath her feet. Her amber eyes nearly fell out of her head when she saw that the ground was no longer there.

”Wake up.” She closed her eyes as tightly as possible and shook her head until stars exploded behind the closed lids, willing the dream to end. Long draughts of air were pulled through her wide nostrils as she tried to slow her heart rate. ”It was only a dream. You’ll wake up in the Border woods and see the stars, laugh it off and go back to sleep.” Her words almost worked; they might have had it not felt so real in spite of its fantastical nature. Several more deep breaths were drawn before she finally gathered enough courage to force her eyes wide. Upon opening, they grew wider still. Long strands of johnson grass waved beneath her stockinged feet, but their color was of a rich, lurid royal blue. Her ears laced themselves to her skull in consternation as she whipped her head up to look around. The moon shone out of the sky with a fierceness that rivaled the sun, bathing the landscape in liquid silver. Clouds of dark purple hung suspended in a sky of rich, dark jade across which swirls of powder blue and minty green rolled like wisps of smoke, the entire thing a picture of tranquility that was so very, very wrong.

“What do you think? I was feeling like an impressionist this morning.”

Amaranth whirled violently to find the source of the voice. A mare that glistened more brightly than the lunar sun was laying a short distance to her right, the thick carpet of soft blue lining a depression in the earth that had molded to her shape. The bay’s eyes grew so wide that their corners threatened to split. All of a sudden, things made sense, though that term was painfully relative at this point in time. She tried to answer the Fate’s query, though she found that her mouth had gone painfully dry. Artemis twisted her delicate head, a smirk on her perfect lips. “Still panicked, are we? Can’t say that I blame you, that was one of my more ridiculously brilliant abduction sequences. Have a drink, dear, we need to have a discussion and I would rather you not be choking on dust the whole time.” A spring bubbled into existence at Amaranth’s feet as the Fate spoke, the water clear as crystal and sweeter than fresh snow. The mare drank obediently, washing the remnants of panic from her throat as her mind spun furiously. She now knew that she had been abducted by a Fate. That was a helpful piece of information. Pity it was the only one she had. She raised her head from her newborn spring and made the mistake of blinking, at which point the world promptly rearranged itself. Artemis now stood on the steps of a snowy marble ruin, gazing down at a mare who was ready to throw reason out of the window and just play along after deciding that trying to make sense of this would only drive her mad. It was a wise decision.

“First order of business. You are here because I need you not to be there. Feel free to wander around wherever you like. My brother may or may not come onto you, arrange to have something eat you or generally just screw with your head. If he does decide to be an ass, I apologize, but there isn’t much I can do. I’m a busy woman and I cannot babysit you. Don’t worry though, you can’t die up here and he’ll leave you alone as soon as he finds a new toy. Fortunately, he has the attention span of a strung-out hummingbird. Understand?”

“Yes, milady,” Amaranth said as confidently as possible, reason having scurried out the window like a rat from a burning ship.

“Don’t call me that, I can’t stand that obsequious crap up here. Bad enough I should have to deal with mortals stumbling all over their stupid selves when I take a trip downstairs. I can’t tell you how thrilled I was when your sister had the balls to yell at me.”

“My sister? She’s here?”

“Not ‘here’ here, but yes, she followed you to Imbros. Sweet sibling loyalty. In fact,” the Fate stepped down from her plinth, leaving ripples of silver with every movement, and smiled sweetly at the bay mare who looked so ungainly by comparison as she whispered, “She is why you are here. The Khayoss in your family led you to the Chaos above your world. And I have plans for both of you.”

”I won’t pretend I was thrilled when I learned what the plans were. At least Artemis was polite enough to hide the ‘body’ and give Khay a sliver of hope. But, over the course of that year, I saw her getting more and more attached to her foal, Artemis’ little monster. I could stand for hours at the edge of Chaos, and see whatever I wanted to see. The deception still tasted foul, but it worked out well enough. And it never ceased to amuse me to watch my poor, domestically-challenged sister managing her hellspawn. But the rest of it pained me. The North and the South clashed like waves on rocks and accomplished nothing. Theseus glowered behind his screen, called on warriors when he needed them and promptly dismissed them afterward without ever learning their names. Tartarus glowered behind his children and dreamed while the North worried at its own flesh like a starving beast. The efforts of its Gestapo could hardly keep the unrest in line. There were more and more souls just spinning out of the fight, until even Khay found herself too choked by bitterness and abandonment to care. The day my ironclad, fiery sister strode into the caves of the Weaklands and chose solitude over war was the last day I had the heart to look.”

The wind skimming through her hair was scented of sugar cane and mint, lifting the shiny curls and twisting them in turns. Amaranth had flourished in Chaos once she had come to understand the oddity of the place. The Fates generally left her alone to wander. She had seen so many impossible things that she had forgotten the silly laws of life below, like gravity, walking up sheer cliffs with impunity. But the novelty had eventually worn off. True, every day brought a surprise, whether it was a penguin that flew or a dragon that lived on nectar, but constant surprise eventually leads to nothing ever being surprising at all. Even when she woke up and found the ceiling made of grass, she merely walked along the air as though it were soil. Her mind had gradually shut down, her sharp tongue beat itself to death against the back of her teeth. Time had ceased to mean anything. She stood and stretched the powerful muscles that lined her frame, brought about by pointless gambols. Amaranth the never-fading had become immortal again, and it felt the same as it had last time; empty, full of laughter that wasn’t remembered because there was no sorrow to temper it.

Her willful feet had carried her unbidden to the empty arch that painted the lower world when she wished it, but she knew that looking would only make it worse. Imbros was closed to her. Looking through a magic glass may as well have been peering through iron bars, even if she was the best-fed prisoner in history. She stood there silently, staring at the empty arch and thinking of the world she had forgotten against her will. Peppermint had never smelled so foul.

[/color]

Life could you be a little softer to me.
Life could you be more gentle to me.
Yeah I know this is a selfish plea,

But this world is hard,
It's cruel and I wish it could be...
Softer to me

[/center]
Lyrics: Softer to Me – Relient K

[S p e c t r a]

Whoa oh prisoner
My pretty, oh oh, prisoner.
A black ocean is the sky above
Tiny lights bob. What star you from?

The hills were like silver glass, filaments resembling vegetation swaying in a breeze that came from nowhere. You can tell me the world is round, baby, and everything comes from somewhere, but this place isn't rooted in your world. Not in a way you'd understand. Leave your physics at the door and we'll get along just fine. Chaos isn't kind to mortals, your minds are structured around assumption and association, and there's so little for you to recognize here. Nothing is as you expect, and as a result the mind opens, opens, opens, and then starts to close in on itself. How can there be room for your own thoughts when there is so much yet to take in? Even when you close your eyes the vague sensation of vertigo remains. This place isn't right to you, and that knowledge alone is enough to encourage me to change its surface twice as often just to fuck with your head. Have you been able to sleep, my dear? Does time lose meaning to you when the sun and stars do not revolve around you like dogged servants? Those rhythms have no purpose here; in places daylight lasts all week, in others, eternally. And just because I can, I like to waltz through the dark places and add my own special brand of sunshine. There'll be no dark and quiet for you, mortal. I prance about with the kingly air that is my divine right, and a small sun trails, bobbing behind me and fastened to my tail with a golden ribbon. The glowing, fiery ball shadows me with the ethereal lightness of a helium balloon, bouncing gaily with every lofty stride of mine. Wherever you're hiding, honey, know this: the sun is rising over the next hill. I've found what little corner of night you've stowed away in, and I'm gonna light it up so bright your eyes will burn even behind your lids. Nothing, not sleep, not even some foolish dream of order, will shield you from me. I don't like to be kept waiting, so up and at 'em.

The sky was frayed and coming apart in places, the canvas leaving gaping patterns of rectangles in the wave. The thread count is ever inconsistent. Consistency would make you more at ease, but I see no reason to be accommodating. You're Artemis's plaything, not even that, her prisoner, so it seems a waste of effort to treat you like an honoured guest. The warden has stepped out, my dear, and you're all mine. We can help each other, or at least I can help you. It remains to be seen whether releasing you from my sister's clutches will create enough of a shitstorm to be entertaining. Artemis yelling at me is hardly motivation enough, you see. We've been around a good long time and she's very nearly out of insults I haven't heard a thousand times before. There is nothing to strive for but turmoil and victory. And in the game of the centuries, I'm winning like Charlie Sheen, baby, so I'm putting my efforts towards the turmoil part. Time to widen the gap in the score, eh? Sure, I've been spreading my tiger blood plenty, but babies are lame. At least when they're small, or just tumours expanding in the tissue of the clueless. I'm winning the potato sack race, but I want to net myself a Nobel Prize for Fucking Shit Up. Okay, so I have twelve on my shelf already. But thirteen is such a lucky number, no? So when I heard through the grapevine (the grapevine is my tool, and I didn't hear it so much as eavesdrop on the entire string of your existence) that you and my less-than-beloved spotted toy were getting along like two peas that could sit in the same pod without killing each other, I thought "hot damn, the other nominees don't stand a chance this year". Number thirteen, here I come. And I'm not talking about the self-destructive chick from House, though I'm not against arriving in her presence either. I'm getting sidetracked again, aren't I. This is why I'm so good at making Chaos defy the rules that govern your world. Is your head spinning yet? Can you spin to keep up with it? It's like watching a ceiling fan go around, you can follow the movement and just get to the edge of solidness before you get dizzy and fall over yourself.

Ah, there you are. I didn't expect you to be sleeping, my little red warrior, but sometimes your waking thoughts are so disjointed here as to give the impression of dream-logic. Perhaps that is the only thing that keeps you from falling apart. You're stronger than I gave you credit for, and that's just going to make it all the sweeter to drive you up the wall. There's no safe and uncreepy way to say this, little girl, but I've been watching you. And like it or not, I'm going to keep doing so. You have an "in", honey, and rather than enchant myself or someone else to go ruffle some feathers in your guise, I figured there'd be no better instrument than the original. So unless you dissuade me somehow, and I seriously doubt that's going to happen, I'm going to spring you from this place that's flattening your mind into a crepe. Because if Artemis sees a reason to keep you here, and therefore out of there, then that's plenty of reason for me to want you back on the ground causing whatever she's trying to prevent. And in the process, you're going to make me very nearly herniate with laughter, because I can't have you going trying to explain where you've been and who you've been having cocktails with. Understand? You're gonna get to wear one of my very favourite hexes. It's like selective aphasia, baby! You'll be the youngest crazy old lady I ever did see. Ohh boy, I'd hand out these kinds of dysfunctions with every birth if they didn't seem to develop so many damn issues on their own. Everyone seems to have a disease of the mind these days. It'll be almost a pity to tarnish one of the few normal ones. Almost. Who am I kidding, I'm nearly vibrating with glee. And you're still staring at that arch like it's going to wave your stupid old life in your face. Oh wait, it does. But still, the staring is useless when you've turned the damn telly off, y'know. Are you sure you haven't gone stupid on me? Seen anything good lately? I drawl lazily as I draw near, a scorching little star still bobbing over my dock and lightly toasting my tail. She lied, you know. When she said you couldn't go back, I added, like it was the most boring, natural thing in the world. But I knew I had your attention, little one. I knew you wouldn't be able to ignore that one.

Trapped in material plane,
She wants to fly and they think she's insane
But she knows what she know.
Give that girl wings and that's all she wrote.
-- Prisoner, 311

[Ami the Mess]

Who's there, knocking at my window?
The Owl and the Dead Boy
This night whispers my name
All the dying children

”Here I am, the celestial lawn ornament, watching the world roll past me, blades whirling and grass flying. Eternity is like a lawn mower when you think about it, keeping everything neat and in-line even as it lops off little bits of living beings and callously scatters them to the wind. I should leave. I should turn around and go play in my hot tub with my little rubber ducky and all the pretty bubbles. Why do I do this to myself? It’s stupid. I’m stupid. I’m staring out the window at something I can’t touch. It shouldn’t matter to me. I’m safe here. They’re all down there getting raped and slaughtered and tossed around while I’m snacking on ambrosia and watching ‘Cheers.’ And I still miss it. Khay was right, I am an idiot.

Khay.

What’s wrong with me? She deserves to know the truth. She was always this larger than life ball of crazy that made me want to do something. I wanted to be like her. And now… This all goes back to Artemis. Artemis and her stupid competition. Well done, you won that round. You have your great big shiny trinket that you made and forgot about. ‘As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods;’ I never thought about how true that was. We’re not your people; we’re just your toys.”

Amaranth blinked at the carved marble through languid eyes, tracing its whorls and bends. She only looked through it when she perceived the sky behind brightening like a screen having its contrast adjusted. The Fates’ eternal competition was fairly easy to track; Apollo set the world on fire while Artemis drowned it in snow. The violently shifting light conditions in Chaos made it easy to tell who was where, with one or the other always glaring the opposing orb into submission and restoring his or her definition of “right” to the landscape. The bay mare arced her back in the glow of the blinding sun, letting the warmth seep through her. Apollo’s honey-slick drawl did the same seconds later. ”Seen anything good lately?” “Just a rape and murder fest HBO would die for,” she replied offhandedly, steeling herself before turning to look at the Solar Fate.

Apollo required quite a bit of getting used to. While Artemis was undeniably the most beautiful creature Amaranth had ever seen, she preferred a bit of understatement in her appearance, usually settling on faint ripples of light draping her silvery skin. Her brother, on the other hand, was consistently mind-blowing. She had felt as though her brain was leaking out her ears the first time she saw him. Not only was he the single most painfully, lickably perfect specimen of the male species she had ever seen, but he was brighter than the Las Vegas strip on a Saturday night. Every new appearance brought about some new light show. Today, there was a searing nova floating over his tail, throwing its impotent energy at the Fate’s form. After observing the new toy, she looked back at the emptiness, marveling at the sad fact that she could now see such things and shrug away as though she had only observed a mound of dirt. The warmth emanating from his golden chassis slid over her skin like a blanket. Apollo had a gift for disarming those in his presence, his energy and manner making one feel like a child wrapped in a down comforter and presented with a steaming cup of cocoa. It was next to impossible not to feel as though you were standing next to the best, most benevolent being in the universe. ”That’s why he’s so fucking dangerous.”

She expelled a single breath that might have been of mirth before looking back at Apollo, only to find the Fate’s piercing eyes seeming to glare through her skull and poke at the contents as though her mind were a fishtank. His voice was a casual meander when he offered it, seeming to come from one commenting on the unusual nature of the clouds. “She lied, you know. When she said you couldn't go back.” A brow went up over one of her chocolate-colored eyes as her mind shook off the atrophy to ponder what game he was playing. Fates rarely made small talk, although she wouldn’t put it past him to do so only because she wouldn’t expect him to do it; the cyclical nature of expecting the unexpected was enough to make her head hurt. As for the statement… She wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that one. “I don’t doubt it. I got the impression it was less of an impossibility and more of a ‘you’re not leaving until I say so’,” she replied somewhat casually, though she was sure he could hear the skeptical curiosity in her voice. ”What exactly is he playing at?”

”And then it dawns on me. This isn’t a new game, this is round two of the old one. I’m still a pawn, but I'm changing colors.

Artemis wants me to stay, so it’s only natural that Apollo would want to drop me back on earth. But why? Sure, Khay might go what’s left of the way up the wall, but she can’t really do anything. Not even Araph- Oh... I come back, Artemis’ little monster figures out that Mommy two traumatized Mommy one, Apollo gets to swoop in and steal his sister’s toy. Considering he has already ducked out of the war and taken to screwing with people to spite her for ditching him, I’d say he’s about one good revelation away from switching teams. That would certainly piss her off. And then there’s me and Theseus. But what could he possibly expect me to do with him?

Or is he just screwing with me? I’ve never heard of anyone winding up in Chaos, and I would think there would be stories had someone come back. Then again, maybe I’m just the only one stupid enough to want to go back. But what the hell? If I’m going to be stupid, I’m going to own it.”

The conflicting voices that had sprung up between blinks went silent as she shrugged, playing the game right along with him. If they were going to play charades and speak in hypotheticals, so be it. Petite, black-stockinged legs swung around each other as she turned from the mocking portal to her past, leaning against a column of snowy marble that obligingly sprang from the ground. She shrugged her free shoulder, knowing that nonchalance was useless with a god, but hoping he would appreciate the effort.

“And what would I do if I could?”

A nightingale in a golden cage
That's me locked inside reality's maze
Come someone, make my heavy heart light
Come undone bring me back to life

Lyrics: Escapist – Nightwish
“As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods” – Shakespeare, in “King Lear”

[S p e c t r a]

Twilight zone, twilight zone,
I'm floating in the dark alone and
Is there any love out here let me know

I can't help but gloat a little. The pieces are all falling into place, and Artemis is lagging behind. I quite like winning. You'd think that after all this time a competitive streak might cool down a little, but I'm just as keen to jam a stick in her spokes as ever. Not that I get any kind of reaction half as satisfying as watching her fall on her face, but I can dream. It's unfortunate that her one success is just that: successful. I don't tend to play with drafts often; even though Tartarus is fun to mess with, the sun doesn't shine so strong in winter. And it's always snowy up there, even when it's slightly less frigid. I like the style and chaos of the Northern troops, but I'm not such a fan of their locale or their looks. Dumb muscle isn't really my MO, anyway. Though idiocy does sometimes make my job a lot easier. Other times quite the opposite. You don't live a few thousand years without learning how to adapt to any situation. Don't think you can pinpoint my age, now. It's not some "a lady never tells" kind of thing. I'm no lady. Though I could appear as one, if I wanted to. I could even pretend not to be a sociopath. But this isn't an ego thing, surprisingly. I just don't remember. After a while, one loses track. And in a place like this, time is relative. Fluid. Meaningless, to a degree. At some point I noticed that the past was further faded than before, but that didn't bother me. The past can do no more for me, whereas the future holds such potential! Cycles, generations of mortals come and go, and here I am hanging over the board like some twisted gamesmith, setting up the pieces for another dramatic season of Imbros's Got Talent. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, there will be crying, hugging, heartwarming stories, and crushing defeats. The grand prize? I might not have your friends and family killed in an untimely and hilarious fashion. I know, I'm too generous. Don't get used to it.

Ah, speaking of our little competition, Aristaios has been avoiding me again. Which is fine by me, I have no interest in babying him. He's an adult now, and while I'm curious about whether he's matured into any special talents, I'm not gonna go chase him down like he's some wayward prodigal son. He can take care of himself. But you, my pretty, you don't have the blood of the gods running in your veins. You're gonna need a little help getting yourself out of this reason-eating machine. It's not often that I get to play the hero, so excuse me while I try to wrap my head around this new concept. I'm gonna do something that's gonna... make you happy? Bullshit. No way! Haha, but this is for real, isn't it? It just so happens that what you want coincides with what I want to bring about. You fit into my plan, you lucky thing, so I'm gonna be a nice terrifying all-powerful being and gift you with your precious freedom. Of course you'd smell a rat, clever thing, since I'm not one to be known for being benevolent. I seldom put up the effort to pretend I'm anything less than an amoral sonovabitch, which is arguably almost honest. It's just not the comforting kind of honesty. My charismatic aura more than makes up for that, though. I can make anyone feel at ease, like they could tell me their deepest secrets. I'm frustratingly hard to hate. A wicked grin twists across my maw at your nonchalant response. Nice work, I could almost believe that the stuff doesn't still make you squirm. By all means, don't bother yourself with any kind of formality or honorarium for me, little one. I'm only one of the shapers of reality, no big deal. Oh goody! I hope some of them had the decency to cry, I quipped casually in reply, making few illusions about my regard, or lack thereof, for the vast majority of mortals. It's nothing personal, but you're just little blips on the greater map of history. Your lifespans are so short, it's hardly worth keeping track of half of you. It takes more than creating and taking life to get my attention. You need a little something special to ramp up the entertainment. Or you need to be kidnapped by my sister, related to one of her children, and connected to the Southern leader. Yeah, that just about does it. You have my attention.

It surprises me, how readily you mortals accept the status quo. Perhaps it's because you're not quite so used to effecting change every dozen seconds or so. For you, your world is solid and held together by handy rules you can't just switch off. Gravity. Growth. Weather systems. Everything has a method, has sense to it. All you can change is each other. Not so for me n' Artemis. I'm always changing my surroundings, in Chaos at least. On the mortal plane we tend to stick to our own rules and leave the landscape as it is, modifying our appearances instead. It's great fun, playing dress-up down there. Of course, I don't mean these directions literally. Chaos isn't really "down there". It isn't anywhere that can be described with direction. It just opens up where it will, and we stroll on in or out. Or teleport, if we're in a hurry. But this isn't about my modes of transportation. This is about you being too lazy, or too cowed, to risk a lightning bolt to the ass. Or maybe you did put up a fight, tantrums and all. But the fight has gone out of you now. Wake up and smell the bacon, sweet cheeks, your out-of-this-world vacation has come to an end. I'll have you on the next ferry back to plain old orderly Shitsville. Thank you for choosing Apollo Freight Lines, Entertainment and All-You-Can-Eat Taco Bar. Please check your indigestion at the door. And you just accepted that? Didn't turn on the sad puppy eyes or anything? Rumour has it she might have a heart in there somewhere, I chuckle. It would suck, to care. I'd long since stopped feeling guilty for anything I've done or planned to do. Millennia have passed since I've minded the impact I had on others. It's just too much hassle, and I've seen all this before. The mortals are so good at making themselves, and each other, miserable. I just like to nudge things to a grander scale so it might be worth watching. It's just business.

So Artemis wanted this bay mare out of the way for a while. Maybe a year, maybe ten, maybe a hundred, who knew? Maybe she'd locked the girl up and forgotten about her, off on some other adventure to mingle with her stupid, fleeting people. Maybe she was hunting for a lay, trying to pop out another monster bigger and stronger than my stock. Not that it bothers me at all; I have a few cards up my sleeve. Two buns in the oven, so to say. And maybe, just maybe, I can swipe another pawn under the table. Because really, the one thing I like better than siding with me, is siding against her. I could use a big, wrathful mofo on my team. Approaching him myself is hardly going to do wonders for my mystique, though. I'm a busy fellow, y'know? Got lives to screw up. And I don't need him. I just want to tip the scales further in my favour. And you're going to help me do that, even if you're trying not to sound like you're jumping at the chance. She's not the only authority here, y'know, I add, drawling the obvious with a mischievous little grin. Heh, give it up, girl, stop pretending like you have something to lose. We both know you don't want to stay here. This place is killing you. The prospect of escape should have you eating out of the palm of my hand. But maybe you're too cautious for that. I do, after all, have a bit of a reputation as a tricky fellow. Though it may have seemed just rumour and religious superstition to you before, I'm sure getting kidnapped by Artemis made you re-evaluate some of your skepticisms. Seeing is believing, eh? And here I am, radiating comfort like your own personal star, ready to save you from all this. I only ask one thing of you. But heaven forbid if I should make it so clear that it's my idea, rather than yours. Pff, come on. Did your life suck so much down there that you wouldn't want it back? So inconsiderate. Think of your family, I croon, flicking my tail casually and making the small sun above it jerk and bob. Carefully, now, connect the dots. Run home to Khayoss, tell her you're alive, tell her how Artemis mistreated you, wronged you. I'm not even asking you to lie. Easy as pie, no? I can see you're already starting to figure it out. So how's it gonna be? Are we going to do business, or do you have some sort of Stockholm-Syndrome-esque loyalty to your captor? No? Didn't think so.

A laser lights pinpoints the top of my dome
Then through my body
As if Scotty's beaming up a wayward soul
Mutant races in an ancient universe
Dark shadows, humans rhyming in a reggae verse.

[Ami the Mess]

Living on a dream
Dying for an angel
Reach out, waiting for a miracle
No sign of wings

It felt delicious to have to think again, even if the subject matter was a bit much to take in one sitting. It was like going from bread and water to steak and tequila, but in spite of the reeling it caused, Amaranth was happy to shovel it down. Nevertheless, she found herself fighting a war between resentment and excuse when Apollo made a jape about his sister’s dubious and possibly fictional cardiac system. While the goddess’ little red victim wanted to fume and rage and bemoan the injustice of it all, she couldn’t quite do it. ”It would have been easier for her to actually kill me. She could have blinked and I’d have crumbled into dust, but she didn’t. She brought me here. And she even hinted to Khay that I wasn’t gone. It’s not that she’s all bad, it’s that we’re not important enough to get in the way of her plans. It’s the same with Apollo. He wouldn’t be talking to me if he didn’t have something to gain by it. They think of us the way we think of insects, little things to be rearranged for amusement. They don’t necessarily want to step on us, at least not all the time, but their plans are so much bigger and so much more eternal that it means virtually nothing for a short-life to bite it or find herself heartbroken. I’m out of my league here.” A wry smile crossed her lips in response to the jest as a whuff of air escaped her nostrils in a tiny snort. “I heard that rumor. A little silk heart full of sawdust, isn’t it?” Her eyes slid to the horizon as a distant chunk of earth freed itself from the surrounding soil and bubbled upward as though in a lava lamp, the sky-blue grass curling up in a ball until it looked like a miniature planet. Her gaze slid languidly back to him as she replied, “I didn’t really have time to think about it; I just blinked and I was here. Besides, she had made it pretty clear that me being thought dead was convenient for her. I didn’t want her to decide it would be easier to make that the truth.”

”Really. Who’s going to struggle when they’re up against someone that can conjure up a wood-chipper beneath their feet by blinking?” But there were certainly no wood-chippers right now, just warmth and tranquility and an ambrosial scent that made inhaling an almost religious experience. He was so frustratingly, damningly charismatic that the idea of him having an ulterior motive felt somehow wrong. The little star floating over his hips bobbed and twisted in the lightest breeze, playfully disarming in its animation. By rights, she was lucky he was letting her think clearly at all considering how little effort it would take to make her mind soft enough to make a twihard look like Einstein. An impish smile danced across his golden lips as he mischievously reminded her of what was made blatantly obvious by a single look at him. Through all of the clouds he created, she felt her heart pick up its pace ever so slightly. It was beginning to look as though this were not a game created to tap-dance on her hopes, but rather a game in which a certain pawn would get to go free to irk the queen. After all, Amaranth was already acutely aware of the fact that she was, by comparison, a small fish. It took little effort to give her world the snowglobe treatment, but Artemis… Well, disrupting this particular plan wouldn’t require much effort from Apollo, but it would annoy his beloved sister to no end. ”A low maintenance plan with huge payoff. He’s got to love that.” Her mind gamboled through images of gemstone dominoes as she gave up on the nonchalance, righting her feet and allowing her pillar to slide soundlessly back into the earth. The look on her face was now one of business and open encouragement as she waited for him to sow whatever seed he had in mind.

The wait wasn’t long. The bay mare bit her lip as he chided her for “ignoring” her family. ”So that’s the game then. I hit the ground and tell Khay I’m back, she goes off, Artemis’ little incubator goes up in flames. Will that be enough? Do I care?” Hope was allowed to breathe a little more freely now, the nets about its gauzy wings falling away with the implication. Feigned horror wove itself through her words as she replied, “You’re right. My God, you’re right, that’s so awful of me. I mean, I have a nephew I’ve never even met.” A brief pang followed the words as she realized that she was doing what nearly everyone else in the colt’s life had up to this point; using him. The situation on and above Imbros had turned into a game of leverages with everyone plying relationships and lies against one another until the landscape was such a vast and tangled tapestry that the threads could scarcely be followed, let alone unraveled. ”But what else can I do?” Black threads flicked at her curved haunches in irritation, strands stinging her dark stockings with the force as she shook her head ruefully and added, “I’m useless up here.” ”To anyone but her, that is. I’ll see your implication and raise you an acceptance.” The muscles beneath the dark skin of her stockinged legs twitched in anticipation of running on real earth again, reveling in the knowledge that nothing was forever and each moment was to be enjoyed. Amaranth had never been one to agree that ‘being’ was a thing of lightness, instead thinking that impermanence lent gravity to situations rather than levity. It could make decisions agonizing, but it also made them mean something. She wanted desperately to escape the frivolity of emptiness, and if that meant perforating the plans of one Fate to intercede for another, so be it.

Her mind was already spinning with what she would do the second she touched the earth. ”First things first: Keep my promise. Go find Khay or Araphel and tell them the truth. They both know about Artemis so they won’t think I’m crazy when I tell them about her. Then… Theseus. I pray he doesn’t think I abandoned him intentionally. Maybe he knows enough of the Fates or has enough faith in them to believe me. Either way, I have to warn him that they’re getting bored. He can’t keep calling up soldiers when disaster happens and then pretending nothing happened when the conflict is over. This little fatespawn is keeping them occupied for right now, but if this is what it’s come to, it’s only a matter of time before one of them strikes a match and it all comes down. The South can’t defend itself against that the way it is now. They need to change, they need to prepare and they need to do it now. And I have to find a way to make him listen.” She cast a quick glance toward her arch, wondering if the window was about to turn into a stargate, when her heart thudded in her chest as the sky darkened. The tension that had seized her frame melted a second later as the darkness was revealed to be an errant wisp of fluffy cloud that had lazily skimmed the brilliant sun. ”If he didn’t know how bad I wanted it before, he definitely does now.” Almost belligerently, her gaze flicked back to his golden eyes as they flashed and shimmered with his endless amusement. She had just about had enough of the foreplay. “I would, of course, be sure to give a thorough account of how I got back. I’m sure my family would be glad to hear it.”

Collateral damage, the sacrifice
Gonna learn to fly and learn to fall
Gonna tear down the walls of love and lies

You have come on your own
You will go on all alone

Lyrics: Dying for an Angel - Avantasia
OOC: Oh, I am going to have soooo much fun making her spout gibberish. xD Also, she doesn't know about the immortality thing. Wah wah waaaaah.

[S p e c t r a]

It's gone if you blink
I can see it as soon as you think it
Dance halls crystal balls
On sidewalk malls
Psychic people outdoors reading palms

Fibres twist and knit together in the sky, cerulean blue and shining white spiraling into a fabric you may find more recognizable than the frayed mess that had been left there. And in much the same way, my dear, you'll have many loose ends to pick up once you regain your precious ground. Unfortunately, it takes more that a mere shadow of a thought for you, but I imagine you'll be eversohappy to be alive and home that the trouble won't seem so great. You'll have a lot of explaining to do, and only so little with which to do it. I do hope you put on a good show, little girl. You have to know you'll be watched. Does that unsettle you? Does this whole ordeal unsettle you, that your life, your innermost thoughts, none of it is truly private? That nowhere is safe from us? Not that Artemis and I are particularly malevolent, but I've had my phases. She has too, to some extent. She used to get all high and mighty on me, but I don't think she has much regard for mortal life anymore. Maybe she's coming around to my way of seeing things. Maybe she's just tired of fighting me every step of the way. I am rather persistent, and fucking stuff up is a lot easier than putting it all back together again. Maybe she's just trying to get me to think that I'm winning so she can sneak something past me. The hell if I know! I can't break into her thoughts, and reasons don't much matter to me as long as I get results that I like. It's kind of nice that way, a fraction of limitation to keep us guessing. I avoid mind-reading when I can, it spoils all the good bits. That, and plain old disinterest, is why I don't bother getting to know any of the pawns especially well. Life needs a little unpredictability, or it becomes frightfully boring. So I don't overthink, I don't over-analyze, and everything works out in a perfect little mess.

A dark chuckle rises in my throat at your words. Oh, you're a funny one. Go ahead, I won't defend her. I don't hate Artemis, but we're not besties either. Sibling rivalry with a little opposing control of the cosmos thrown in, you get the idea. Whatever camaraderie we once had has been thrown to the wind; after so many thousands of years together, we need our space. Each of us the only constant company the other will have across the passage of time, both of us the only ones who will ever come close to understanding our nature and lot in life, it is impossible to sever all ties. Sometimes we can't stand the sight of each other, but the knowledge that the other is out there somewhere is comforting. Being alone is enjoyable because we know we don't have to be forever. A happy ending makes a comedy, after all. No offense, but mortals are shit company. Dropping dead like flies, losing their minds at the drop of a hat, it's really not worth the hassle of making any of them immortal to keep us company. You're weak and generally useless. And I can do a great many things, but I can't make a boring equine worth listening to. I can only poke them with a stick a little, scramble the eggs. And "damaged" is a very cheap kind of entertainment. Enthusiasm and common sense, alike, cannot be taught. But you, my dear, have motivation in spades. It's a wonder fear of obliteration kept your tongue in check this long. But it's time to let it off the leash properly now, where it will be put to good use. And then, well, you may find a few bugs in your speech centre, but you'll be in working condition. Better to be rolling a little wonky than lying in a scrap heap waiting to be broken down into your base components. It's not your time to die, my pretty, not for a while yet. So go, and live your life in a way that suits me. Put on a good show, will ya?

Unfailingly casual in every way, I manage to conceal the flicker of giddy excitement in my belly. I'm rather good at looking bored, I think it's the apathy that really does the trick. I flick my tail lazily, the tethered star jerking wildly at the movement and breaking free. It floats forward between us, buoyant but not rising further. I don't spare it so much as a glance. I suppose you've waited long enough. I'd hate to keep you, I drawl lazily, But should you try to share what took place here with anyone outside your family, I think you'll find it rather difficult. I grin like a Cheshire cat. Not like anyone would believe you anyway. We're not exactly known for popping up and personally bitch-slapping a mortal life in the face, my sister and I. Sightings are up, lately, but only barely. We're mighty fine at the art of disguise, though ego doesn't always encourage us to stay shrouded. Most of the time, though, we choose not to go flouncing around Imbros in full regalia. Subtlety is far more effective; it keeps the blame of the masses from finding a fixed point. And I won't have you spreading your little story to everyone with an ear to offer. Communication is about to become a rather challenging game of Taboo for you. I'm looking forward to it. You're little more than a carrier pigeon to me; taking the message in a plausible form - do you really expect me to study your mannerisms long enough to impersonate you? - to a strategic destination. Ah, but that's not a very flattering comparison, is it. Pigeons are the rats of the sky, with the even more useless seagulls as their company. You're not quite such a dull and filthy courier. Not quite. Perhaps a sparrow or chickadee would be a mite more flattering. The stone archway begins to glow, light shimmering in the opening as though iridescent glass had lain hidden there the entire time. The star touches this non-surface, dissolving into leaps of light and flame out to the edges. A lightning-white seam sparks into view, outlining the inside of the structure. And then, like a label, the view you see through the arch peels back, opening onto the dusty wastes of the Weaklands. Happy trails, I chuckle, head bobbing lightly. I give you an expectant look, letting the warmth of my aura poison you one last time. Remember whose side you're on. Your wings are waiting, little sparrow. Now fly!

I believe that you know more
To survive the dimension if four
Oh prisoner
My pretty oh oh prisoner