arrowmistress

[arrowmistress]

so I have to write a literary analysis on a poem about Apollo, but instead of actually, you know, analyzing, I’m just low-key fangirling: 

in the poem, Apollo's passion is associated with the sun. Not the sun of growth, but the sun of drought, that cracks the earth in insatisfiable ravage; overwhelming light, not the one you’d see after sunrise, but the blinding clarity that follows a fiery apocalypse

#[ ooc ] #[ this is a lit class not a poetry workshop omg ]

[arrowmistress]

i’m sorry for what you’ve been through. i’m really, really sorry. (from Leto)

“This isn’t something I went through. It’s something I caused.” Artemis says, and the words taste bitter in her tongue.

Orion is dead, stiff and bloodied beside her. Never to speak, or race, or hunt again, and it is all her fault. Yes, Apollo may have done the trickery, but it was competitiveness, her hubris, that had shot the arrow straight into her beloved’s heart.

A memory never to be forgotten, no matter how much she wished to.

“Do you think he knew?” Her voice is quiet, fearful of the answer. The arrow had gone through him, tearing through his back to chest. In the shock of the moment, could he have looked down? And if so, if he saw that familiar silvery tip glowing the sunlight in his last moments, could he have realized... “That it was me? That I... betrayed him?”

#asoulunbound #[ im sorry im in the orion vibe because of my other threads ] #[ hope this is ok ]

[arrowmistress]

𝗔𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼: Hey, wanna go grab some food?

𝗔𝗿𝘁𝗲𝗺𝗶𝘀: Sorry, I already ate with Athena. But what do you want?

𝗔𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼: .... loyalty

[arrowmistress]

hey, guys! 

I’ll be a little inactive this week as I wrap up a few deadlines, but I’m available and excited to plan threads on my IM’s!

<3 this post to plot !!

#ooc

[arrowmistress]

Ἄρτεμιν ὕμνει, Μοῦσα, κασιγνήτην Ἑκάτοιο, / muse, sing of artemis, sister of the far-shooter,

#☾ :: constellations [ musings ]

[arrowmistress]

Volute krater depicting the moment when Artemis saved Iphigenia from being sacrificed by replacing her with a deer. On the verso is a scene with young men and women.

Italian, made in Puglia 350-360BCE.

From the British Museum, currently (Oct 2021) on loan to the Museum of Western Australia.

[arrowmistress]

Apollo: Why do good people die young?

Artemis: Well, when you’re in a garden, what flowers do you pick?

Apollo: The ugly ones

Artemis: Exac- wait, what?

Apollo: Ugly bitches don’t belong in my garden

[arrowmistress]

Hermes: What time is it?

Apollo: I don’t know; pass me that saxophone and we’ll find out.

Apollo: *plays saxophone extremely loudly and out of tune on purpose*

Artemis: WHO THE FUCK IS PLAYING SAXOPHONE AT 2 AM

Apollo: It’s 2 am

Hermes:

[arrowmistress]

Hermes: what’s the worst decision you’ve ever made?

Artemis: not eating Apollo in the womb

[arrowmistress]

Orpheus, about to look back:

#[ STOP xD ]

[arrowmistress]

@audaciiae​

Apollo looks down, purses his lips. Maybe a part of him is ashamed, his face flushing golden in both anger and embarrassment. He still doesn’t think he made the wrong decision, but he does feel terrible for making Artemis cry, his heart clenching in his chest. Is their pain not shared? They are twins, after all, and Apollo swears that they exist on the same wavelength, sharing thoughts and feelings alike.

He kicks at the sand for a moment, then looks back up. It’s hard to pinpoint what he’s feeling by the look on his face. “I’ve had my suffering,” is what he says, letting out a shaky breath. “And I suppose you have had yours now. Besides, what’s your point? I do not deny you that often. There’s been more times that I’ve put you before anyone else than the times that I haven’t. You were getting bored of me, I know it, I do–”

That isn’t the case, and he knows it, logically, but in his heart…well, how is he supposed to take it? His vision has gone green with envy, after all. “I respect you more than I respect anyone else, sister. And I–” His voice catches, and he clears his throat, shaking his head. “You deserve better than that,” he spits out, jerking his chin towards Orion’s body. “Better than someone who can die at any given moment. Hate me, if you want. Curse my name, even. It doesn’t matter now.”

Flushing? Kicking the sand? Childish, always so childish; even in the face of murder and betrayal.

Artemis may have the favorite of the twins for the king of the gods, but Apollo had always been coddled far more than she could ever dream of. While she had been born in the darkness, on that barren island home to no one, he had had an entourage of goddesses to witness his arrival, a choir of nymphs to bless his ears; swans, gold, ambrosia. Fed the sweetest nectar by fair Themis herself.

“You were getting bored of me”

Artemis scoffs. Now, isn’t that a baseless claim? Why, because she hadn’t spent every waking moment dazed by his glow? Or perhaps because she had dared to care for somebody else? But that wasn’t right either. It had been ages since Apollo and her had been completely by themselves; since then, there had been hunters, nymphs, and mortals aplenty to share their attention, and yet he’d held no animosity towards Polyboia, Makaria-Eukleia, or even Hippolytos. So what was it?

“Did you...”

Love him?

No. To love is to care, to guard, to sacrifice. Her brother hadn’t loved Orion; he didn’t know him enough to love him, and his trickery only confimed that fact.

“—lust over him?” Her eyes widen as the word tumbles out her tongue; its a question and realization at the same time. A humorless laugh leaves her lips, part rageful, part incredulous. Was that it, of all things? Artemis scans his face, desperately looking for a sign, something to prove her wrong. But it makes sense, doesn’t it?

“Well, you could have had him, brother.” She gestures to the cadaver behind her, taking a step aside. “Do you not remember my oath of maidenhood? Do you think my will to be so weak? I loved him, yes, and I treasured him, more than you can imagine—” more than anyone could  “—but if you are so feeble to the whims of the flesh, you could have had him!”

A sigh. They are past that now.

“Be that as it may...” Artemis bears a grim expression on her face as she once again kneels by Orion’s limp, cold, coagulated body. “You are correct. Human lives are fleeting.” She looks away as she pulls out the arrow, breaking it in her fist before letting it fall to the sand. The cursed metal.

“That is why I shall ask Father Zeus to immortalize Orion in the sky; a constellation, if he will grant it to me, so that I may be reminded of him each night.”

And so that you remember the hurt you have caused me too.

#audaciiae #☾ :: she looked at him as if he were the sun [apollo] #[ ill be honest ] #[ in three years of tumblr rp i never understood 'high muse' or 'i cant feel my muse' or 'my muse is bothering me' ] #[ i was always like 'its nice to personify characters and stuff but its just writer's block right? ] #[ but for this muse and this thread? my fingers itch to write i swear. it just plummets out. ]

[arrowmistress]

𝗔𝗽𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗼: Father said that he loves all his children equally.

𝗔𝗿𝗲𝘀: And then he gave 2 extra brownies to Artemis and Athena.

[arrowmistress]

Artemis swore the great oath of the gods to Zeus: 'By your head, I shall always be a virgin untamed, hunting on peaks of solitary mountains. Come, grant me this grace!'

@kkishimotos: make me choose between athena or [ artemis ]

[arrowmistress]

Apollo: Tell me I’m pretty

Artemis: Pretty fucking annoying that’s what you are

[arrowmistress]

@audaciiae​​:

Apollo narrows his eyes as she steps closer, crossing his arms. His piercing gaze is not usually reserved for her, but for those that have wronged him somehow. This is not how it should be. Artemis should never be the one to receive his anger, his rage. There is a reason that he is feared on Olympus, there is a reason that all others hesitate to know him: it is this. He lets out a long breath, then shrugs.

“I wanted to.” How easy is that? After all, what is a mortal to a god? What is Apollo if not a slave to his own whims? I wanted to. Simple. Yet so cutting. He always wants, wants, wants, ever selfish, but aren’t gods selfish things? They are not perfect. He doesn’t pretend to be. “You cared for him more than me.” He frowns, his brow furrowing. “I could see it. You would’ve chosen him over me, your own brother–I couldn’t allow it.”

Part of him, too, jealous that Artemis could have Orion while he could not. Who wouldn’t want Orion? And perhaps Artemis never wanted him in the ways Apollo did, but Apollo still wanted…and jealousy is hideous on him.

“You can be angry with me. I know you are. But it doesn’t change anything, does it? It won’t bring him back. Not even I, skilled as I am, am capable of that.” Nor would he, but… “He wouldn’t have made you happy. You would have mourned him eventually, as I said. Mortals aren’t worth losing yourself over.” He says this, tone bitter. “I do not regret my decision, sister. After all, I can’t lie..he is dead. What now?”

Warm tears fill her eyes, clouding her sight. Artemis isn’t used to it, the weight in her throat, the sparkles of light that dance before her watered pupils, barely allowing her to make out Apollo’s features.

Jealousy? Is that his excuse?

“It was my choice to make.” Her tone is low, controlled by the faint contour of his golden hair, the sillhoeutte she’s seen with such fondness for so long. The fondness that keeps her from  “My choice, to love and to suffer, to know grief at my own time. You have done so!” she snaps. “Or do you think I did not miss you when you declined our hunts, our races, our dances, for somebody’s bed?”

“Remember, I have witnessed, brother, every single lover, every single heartbreak you have experienced. Do you believe I did not wish to warn you, to save you from the agony? But I respected you—I respected you and your decisions, for we are twins, but we are not the same.”

At three years old, she had climbed on Father Zeus’ lap and asked for the wild, the mountains, the hunt. For freedom. And with all the humans, gods, giants, and titans who had tried to tame her, she had never, for one second, imagined Apollo would be among them.

The little brother she loves so deeply, so fiercely.

The little brother who, for the first time, has made her cry.

“You have the right to forge your own path, Apollo. I expected you to respect mine.”

#audaciiae #☾ :: she looked at him as if he were the sun [apollo] #[ it is unfair for only me to cry ] #[ i revel in your suffering because it is mine too ]

[arrowmistress]

like this for a starter (with perhaps some plotting) !!

[arrowmistress]

Zeus: I am at a loss for words!

Apollo, narrating: Despite being lost for words, Father yelled at me for the next ten minutes

#☾ :: she looked at him as if he were the sun [apollo]