literature

PMOCT- Round 2, Prologue

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The night hung low, the only lights coming from the streetlights, the shop windows, and the tiny red dots that scuttled anywhere one cared to glance. The figure approaching the little shop didn't bother glancing though. Athene did. Several times. The screen on which he appeared seemed to be magnetic, drawing her to see what the figure was up to.
A few minutes later, she saw exactly what he was up to. And who he was. Rather, what he was.

In a large room lined with old-fashioned books, a man sat typing at a laptop. He glanced up when a woman in a blue jumpsuit appeared out of the dusty air.
Hestia shifted the straps of her vacumn, then turned to face Apollo. "Hey," she said. "Athene said you needed me. Is the bathroom still alright?"
"The bathroom is working wonderfully, thank you," Apollo closed his laptop and gestured to an old armchair before his desk. "Sit," he invited, and Hestia obliged, her face subtly curious.
"Alright then," she crossed her arms. "Let's hear it."
"Hestia," Apollo paused, considering his words carefully. "You were going to speak to the subject named Sorrel about Minos's offer?"
"I was."
"I'd like to request that I speak to her for you."
A moment dragged by, and Apollo could almost hear the dust drifting through the air.
"And why," Hestia spoke precisely, "would I let you do that?" Apollo sighed ever so slightly.
"I have something important to convey," he said after a moment.
"Well than tell me, and I'll tell her."
"I can't do that." The two G.O.D.s sized one another up. Apollo crossed his arms and leaned forward slightly. "Think of this as calling it even." Hestia seemed to want to argue, but then she sagged slightly. She did owe him a few favors.
"This had better be staggeringly important," she found herself saying. "Is it?"
"Yes," Apollo looked up at her and enjoyed the feeling of the truth on his tongue. "Yes, it is."

Sorrel had been thinking when the door slid open. There was nothing else to do in that room, really.
She was thinking about the white-coat named Tadd, and how she could get him to tell her about Aslan's whereabouts. He'd already told her about the G.O.D.s and the Labyrinth and spider-cams with a little persuasion. Very little persuasion, actually.  
"You know, all the other white-coats act like someone had cut their tongue out," she had observed to him once, during one of his routine check-ups.
"What?" He'd glanced over his cart of medical equipment.
"They don't talk. At all. You, however, don't shut up."
Tadd had spread his hands as if before an audience. "What can I say?" he'd shrugged.
"You get yelled at for that quite a bit, don't you?"
Tadd's arms sagged slightly. "Maybe."
"So how's Aslan," she'd continued casually. Tadd had punctually dropped his clipboard.
"Who?" he'd not met her eyes.
"The Dryaid."
"There are a lot of you guys here, I can't pay attention to everyone."
And that had been the most she'd ever gotten out of him on the subject.
As soon as that door opened, however, Sorrel's thoughts on the matter were promptly interrupted. She opened one eye blearily, expecting one of the blue-haired women (or rather nymphs, according to Tadd) or a white-coat. Instead she frowned and sat up as a man entered, one with golden hair that looked all wrong, carrying a small thin item with a cord that ran up to his….
"Sorrel," the man spoke. Sorrel looked to his face and felt a sudden swell of vertigo, similar to when she had first met Hestia. It was as if she stood before a huge sun pulsing with heat, one that seared her eyes and left her stumbling and blind.
She blinked, and the sensation was gone.
"-ent to speak with you."
"What?"
"Hestia," the man spoke calmly. "She is not available at the moment, so I am here to speak with you."
"Oh." Sorrel had to fight the urge to rub at her eyes as she peered up to him. "Who are you?"
"Apollo," the man said. "I speak for Minos."
She narrowed her eyes. "What does he want?" she asked. Apollo allowed a certain crinkling of his eyes that Sorrel realized must have been a smile.
"No warm regards I can bring back to him, I suppose?"
"No, sorry. Though feel free to tell him to go jump into a vat of boiling oil. Or maybe tar."
"I'm afraid I can't do that," Apollo replied steadily. Sorrel didn't answer, preferring to stand and cross her arms. "Minos has a proposition," he stated. "He needs help recapturing the escaped prisoners. You, along with your fellow subjects, are being offered a chance to go into the Labyrinth and do precisely that. You would be closely tracked, of course, but as long as you kept to your task, you would essentially be given free rein."
"Alright," Sorrel kept her face passive as she processed Apollo's words. "Though you do know that I haven't gotten any of those fancy powers yet?" She wanted to push it, to say 'In fact, I'm not sure that I ever got that illness.'  It would have been a true statement. But it was also true that every time she considered blowing Minos's supposed cure off and trying for a daring escape, a tiny voice in her always whispered, And what if you're wrong? So Sorrel didn't push it, and listened as Apollo spoke.
"We will provide you with the necessary tools."
"What, like those shooting vials?"
"The tranquilizers have been deemed too risky," Apollo replied. "You recall the Dryaid Aslan?"
"Aslan? Is he alive?" Sorrel straightened and her arms uncrossed.
"That depends on what you define as alive," Apollo said. "But it seems that he has reacted…strangely to the tranquilizers. He's gotten everyone in the labs in quite an uproar. Even Minos himself has taken an intense interest in the Dryaid." Sorrel frowned, unable to shake the feeling that Apollo was staring at her a little too hard, that his voice sounded a little too pointed. And why was he telling her all this? "Did you care for the Dryaid?" Apollo asked. Sorrel shrugged.
"Care may be too strong a word. More like I don't think he deserved what he got. He was not in his right mind, anyone could see that." Apollo shrugged lightly.
"That's the offer." His voice seemed back to normal. "What's your reply?"
Sorrel hesitated. "Honestly, I'm not sure I want to help Minos," she said.
"I see," Apollo cocked his head. "You have a son back in your world, yes?"
"And what, if I do this I'll get to go home or something?" Sorrel's voice turned sharp. "Sorry, but Hestia already lied to me once."
"Oh?" Apollo surveyed Sorrel for a moment, then waved his hand. Sorrel noticed a patch of air in front of her, one that seemed to shimmer like the hot air on a summer day. Then it deepened and stretched, and Sorrel had to suppress a shout when colors seeped in from the edges, and spread like stains, then sharpened to reveal a familiar figure. Sorrel felt something inside of her twist abruptly.
Amar sat at a familiar wooden table, leaning over a bowl of soup. He slurped at a spoonful of the stuff, and a bit dribbled down his chin. A hand with a rag entered the scene and wiped the stuff up, and Sorrel could hear, as if through a thin wall, Frau Zedler's sharp words. Then Amar's dark eyes met Sorrel's and he froze, and his mouth opened.
"Mama?" his voice pushed through the invisible wall. The image dissolved, and Sorrel was left staring at empty air. She didn't move.
"If you successfully complete this task," Apollo spoke gently, "I will give you an opportunity to speak with him."
Sorrel didn't seem to hear him at first. "Can you do that for Lai also?" she finally asked, turning to him slowly. Apollo raised his chin.
"Perhaps. First, you must uphold your part of the bargain." Sorrel blinked at him, then narrowed her eyes. It was as if a floodgate somewhere in her had cracked open, and all the worry and anger she'd kept at a reasonable distance since she'd gotten here roared out in an all-consuming rush.
"This is another trick isn't it?" she snapped. "You people think you can just use my family to make me do whatever you want, don't you?"
"Possibly. Nevertheless, I have every intention of following through on my word, once you complete your task."
"Then prove it and show me Lai," she heard her voice rise in pitch. "Show Amar again. Or I'll-"
"Sorrel, if you are trying to threaten me, might I remind you that you are the one with mending ribs, and that you are the one who is the prisoner. Not me."
Sorrel clenched her fist so tightly that she could feel her nails digging into the palm of her flesh, but she didn't reply.
"I would think," Apollo pushed, "that in any circumstance, a chance to leave this prison would be more than welcome." Silence. "I will give you time to consider," Apollo said.
She watched numbly as he started to turn and walk away, then he paused and glanced back to her. "You know," Apollo said, like it was a stray thought that had come upon him, "I considered you as one of my candidates to bring here." Sorrel frowned, but didn't say anything. "Unfortunately, you take things too literally, too practically for my purposes. In short, you're not…risky enough." Sorrel, insanely, almost wanted to laugh.
"I'll keep that in mind then," she said in a voice that sounded almost foreign to her. He turned to go, before a sudden sound broke through the air. "Apollo." He turned. "I'll do it," she heard herself say. "Damn me if I'm making the same dumb mistake, but I'll do it."
Apollo smiled, and it looked to Sorrel like an old sunset over the cragged hills of his cheekbones.
Yay prologue.

Apollo, Hestia, and the world belongs to :iconprojectminotauroct:
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GrimNecropolis's avatar
I'm loving the sun imagery with Apollo.