InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "BEES!"

Daniel Ciin (miaiphonos) wrote in paxletalelogs,
@ 2011-01-19 08:04:00

Entry tags:

ares, artemis

sleep just to dream her
Who: Artemis & Ares.
What: Somnambulistic shenanigans.
Where: Pax rooftop.
When: 19 January, 11:45 p.m.
Warnings: Language, violence, outrageous animal rights violations.
Notes: Pax residents, expect some ex-animals littering the roof and environs of your building Thursday morning. Enjoy.

It was nearing midnight; the full moon had risen high and bright. Samuel had only just nodded off to sleep when his body stirred once more, rising from the couch with a purpose not entirely his own. The television had dimmed, the red and black menu of his Netflix queue a faded backdrop on its screen. Blinking, Ares took in his surroundings, quirking a brow at his strange attire. But he had no time for such petty concerns, no desire to waste this rare moment of overt control on glaring at the thin boxers covering his tanned skin. He moved into the bedroom, plucking jeans and a black PT shirt from a neatly folded stack atop the dresser. He found he liked the feel of the tee, its ancient, soft cotton clearly fitted to his shape after years of hard wear. He pulled it over his head as he walked to the bedside table. There, in a deep drawer, he found what he had truly come for: The smooth, hard lines of his vessel's favored weapon.

The Sig Sauer P226 felt solid in his hands, familiar in the way all weapons did. It resonated with them both, deity and mortal, and both sharply smiled. He found the keys to the trigger lock readily enough, and those to the lockbox with extra ammunition shortly after. This attended to, he pulled on his jeans, filled his pockets with the additional clips, slipped the handgun into his waistband at the small of his back, and padded out of the apartment.

His bare feet made no sound on the hallway floor. The door to the stairwell fell shut behind him, and quickly he made his way to the roof. He felt her presence there, always a step ahead of him: His half-sister, awakened with the night, itching for the hunt.

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like_a_shot
2011-01-20 11:01 pm UTC (link)

Nothing of his intuition failed Ares: a goddess stood alone upon the roof, and nothing of Artemis could he ever mistake for another. As before, she bore dark skin like the mountainous earth she loved, and deep brown eyes like her deer she once ran with. The full moon above her threw her image into a majestic contrast, catching upon the whites of her clothing and the silver of her armaments until she nearly glowed. She saw not the occasion for modesty as Ares had, clothed only a man's boxer shorts and a white tank top, which moved at the callous whim of the winds. A silver brace protected her bow-arm, and a silver glove protected her arrow-hand.

"I had called out for games," Artemis said aloud, from where she was perched upon the ledge of the roof. The wood of her silvered greatbow suffered and groaned by her hand, and though it put up great resistance, it submitted to the will of its goddess. She lifted her noble chin as she aimed her arrow at a sharp angle into the sky, and a hard laugh broke from her lips. "Long has my spirit cried and cried, and only Ares has heard me?"

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miaiphonos
2011-01-21 04:43 pm UTC (link)

"Only," he sneered. "I am more than enough."

He padded to the edge of the rooftop, peering down into the dimly lit alley beneath. Its shadows writhed with the evidence of living things, humans and animals alike seeking comfort in the windbreak between the tall buildings; the moon exposed them all to varying degrees, and Ares knew his sister's weapon would find its mark. His gaze flicked from the faint signs of motion there to the arrow she meant to loose. Even knowing her as he did, seeing the clear advantage she had in the situation, he could not resist a bit of prodding. "Or are you afraid I'll be too much competition?" His eyes shifted to her, laughter lighting their depths. "Should I fetch someone you'd find less a challenge? Hermaphroditos, perhaps, or Dionysus?" He slipped the pistol from its makeshift holster, the pad of his thumb toying with the safety.

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like_a_shot
2011-01-25 06:30 am UTC (link)

A woman afraid of Ares would not have loosened her grip on the arrow, let it fly up into the sky. The silver of the shaft made its path easily seen, though at first it seemed like just an arrow wasted. But on the downward arch of its parabolic path, the arrow got lost within a tree below, then emerged again, embedded in the thick of a squirrel.

"No need. You are less enough for my taste." Artemis lifted her chin. Her eyes had not yet acknowledged Ares, though she felt the weight of his presence. "Surely you know my brother is the only man who can take a bow against mine."

She strung another arrow, the movement swift and smooth. Artemis played less with her angle now, less to the moon and more to the activity below. "Ares' toy is both amusing and ignoble. Do you mean to scare off the quarry with that firecracker, and thus avoid our contest?"

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miaiphonos
2011-01-26 09:15 pm UTC (link)

"Are you so infrequently called upon now that you fail to recognize a weapon when you see it?" Ares sneered, as much at her attempt at a jibe as by the mention of Apollo. "I never thought you of all of us would be so unwilling to adapt." He lowered the pistol, the moonlight gleaming off its narrow sights. In a fit of pique he aimed at two amorous cats enjoying the supposed privacy of their alleyway; a single bullet passed through them both, then buried itself in the pavement below. "Are you not up to the challenge of frightened prey?"

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like_a_shot
2011-02-03 08:46 am UTC (link)

Artemis had no answer but the arrow she loosed into the dark, and a lone pigeon perched upon a streetlamp was the next to fall. Rather than gloat, she narrowed her eyes and sharply notched her next arrow. The tragedy of the situation was not lost upon her; that this bow of hers, now trained upon dim-witted city creatures, once slew boars and lions and men of hubris.

"I do refuse to adapt. My pride will have no other way. I will resist this world and the people with it and their complacent, honorless, weak-willed ways." Her teeth grit together when she was not speaking to her half-brother, her lips pulled back from her teeth like a furious hunting hound. "I will not change my weapon, because it was tempered by the forge of gods. Do you adapt too readily, Ares? Are weapons similar to yours not bought at Wal-Mart?"

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miaiphonos
2011-02-09 09:35 pm UTC (link)

A humorless laugh twisted his lips, his sneer turning vicious. "As are bows," he said. "Of similar form but not equal substance, as most would easily discern. Your eye for detail truly weakened."

Ares was hardly shamed by her disdain. Far from it: He admired humanity for their willingness to make weaponry so readily available, in such varied forms, qualities and quantities. It was impressive. Long had he skulked through his mortal vessel's memories, soaking up all manner of information regarding the use, procurement and brandishing of implements of violence. It seemed a simple thing in this age, no longer restricted to the ruling classes and military men. And on the larger scale, such beautiful destruction lurked, the air rife with the threat of unmanned Predator drones, guided missiles and nuclear warheads. He thrilled to think of it, his smile growing once more, his pulse hammering with excitement. He brought his foot to rest on the roof's ledge, leaning over for a clearer view. He squeezed off a quick shot, taking a third cat - fleeing, now, and wisely so - in the throat.

"Have you seen an AS-50?" he asked, his voice a low, contented purr. "That is what modern god-forged weaponry looks like. Your outmoded nostalgia doesn't make it less so."

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