| Priorities [Apollo's Temple/Arianrhod] |
[15 Jan 2008|06:18pm] |
Apollo stood at the foot of the steps outside his temple. He did not register, for the moment, the abused swing or the cracked and yawning door frame; instead, his eyes were thrown down at the stairs by his booted feet. Gradually, the redness faded from his arms and legs, the scorching he'd taken from the flames Moros had thrown up around himself fading as he worked to heal himself. Healing burns was the most difficult of visible injuries to heal, and it was usually painful going, but for all the emotion he showed at that moment, he might have been a statue for all the pain he felt in his efforts. And then it was done; the physician had healed himself.
Himself, but not Artemis. The bastard had taken her. For that, Moros would suffer. He'd suffer if Phoebus had to feed him his brother's waters full to bursting.
But first, he would equip himself. No more today would he content himself as Apollo the archer, he would go forth to avenge and recover his sister as Apollo the warrior.
( To arms )
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| The Prettiest Princess (Tag: Loki) |
[15 Jan 2008|09:31pm] |
The dress was beautiful, pink in color and designed for a young child. A pink vest, the fabric soft and with a white trim. Pink ruffled shoulders. A frizzy pink skirt. Pink shoes with a clear plastic top. A corsage to go around one wrist. A little strip of white fabric to tie around the neck. Pretty red lipstick. Pretty white diamond clip-on earrings, and a pretty white diamond tiara, though both were actually made out of plastic. It didn't matter though. It didn't matter that the whole thing was fake, meant as a costume for some young girl at Halloween or just to play dress-up with in general. That girl would have loved it all the same, traipsing around the house in her pretty little princess outfit. Dolos, however, did not share that same degree of enthusiasm.
They'd found him the biggest size the store had, which fit only because of his generally thin frame, yet still with most movements the dress would threaten to burst at the seams. The chest was just as flat as if it had been a little girl wearing it, Dolos having less than an ounce of muscle throughout the entirety of his body. The lipstick was on, but his lips were turned upside down in a frown, arms crossed over his chest. Even the pretty corsage did nothing to make the pout look pleasant. The tiara was sitting atop his head. The clip-on earrings were dangling, moving back and forth every time he turned to look at something. The skirt was long enough for any proper girl, but Dolos was a fully grown man, and as such it ended up showing off a generous amount of legs. Hairy legs. But perhaps the most embarrassing thing all were the white cotton panties.
"There, now isn't everyone having a great time?" The Rock asked in a light, sing-song voice, smiling to both his young daughter and Dolos as they sat together on the beach in matching outfits. Stuffed animals were all around them in a circle, pink plastic utensils and a pink plastic teapot in the middle.
"Hehe, yes!"
"No!" Dolos pouted, readjusting his arms across his chest.
"No?" The Rock questioned in an assertive tone, raising a single eyebrow above his sunglasses as he looked to Dolos.
( No! )
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