Artemis (dianartemis) wrote in labyrinthine_, @ 2015-03-04 00:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | artemis, oliver hunt |
His arms extended measure half the skies: His stride no less.
Artemis did not sleep much that night; sleep was not as much of a need for them as it was for the mortals, more like a luxury. She dreamed, dreams of happiness and warmth followed by one of loss that had her waking up with a start, in a cold sweat, all memories of the nightmare slipping away from her even as she reached for them.
She looked across the now extinct campfire immediately, and was glad to make out his shape in the darkness, curled up on the ground. The crescent moon provided more than enough light for her to be comforted, and after a few moments spent gathering her wits, she stood and busied herself around camp, a silent shadow in the night. By the time dawn started to paint the sky in shades of pink and blue, she had two bowls of fruit ready for their breakfast. Her attendants could tend to their own breakfast; this, too, had been a ritual she needed to accomplish.
She sat a few feet from him, and simply waited for him to rise with the cold morning and its increasingly crisp sunlight.