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Dressing quickly, I pulled a red dress from my closet. Embroidered flowers spiral up the dress. Picking it because it contacts beautifully with my curly brown hair. Loose curls flowing midway down my back, I go to my walk-in closet. A couple of weeks ago, I found something buried deep inside, forgotten by time. Then I found the precise box that I was looking for. Opening it, I look down at the white mask with gold trim. Leaves, flowers, and butterflies jutting out.
Wrapped in golden silk in a painted wooden box, my finger traces the shell of the mask.
“Do you like it?” asked the low voice. “Please tell me you like it.”
I whirl around to find Apollo. Smiling broadly at his gift, I reply, “I love it Apollo. It captures my essence. Does this mean you are allowing me to go to the festival?”
Cocking his head to the side, Apollo raised his eyebrow as he asks, “Since when do you need my permission.”
Fair enough. I suppose that if I didn’t have his permission, I would still go. be sneakier about it.
“Oh yes, I forgot we talked about this in the garden. I thought you meant that we’d keep this up until the Spring Equinox passes.” My time in my rooms have become so much more bearable. With the end date in sight, I'm relieved.
“Love, maybe you should sit down. The equinox isn’t for several months,” he replies. “Perhaps it's the stress of the wedding weighing heavily on you.”
“Wedding! What wedding?” I ask. Widening my eyes, I take a step back from him.
He steps closer, closing in on my newly acquired space. “Our wedding. Remember, your mother promised you to me.”
Promised me to who?
“Call for Chiron,” Apollo barks an order at the guard in the hallway. “My lady has fallen ill.” Turning on his heel, his robes flourish in the makeshift wind. My vision swirls back into focus.
Apollo is gone.
The box I'm holding has faded considerably from time. Persephone was the last to live in these rooms. Did the memory belong to Persephone?
Perhaps she’s leaving me clues.
A trail to find her.
Slipping on the mask I touch up my lipstick before throwing on my cloak that I swiped the sconce by the servant stairwell and give it a quick tug. Surveying myself in the mirror, I knew that the guards would still have a hard time finding me with my face obscured and my ears not exposed.
Slipping out down the stairs, I ran into no one. Likely everyone who’s available took the night off for the festival. Down the passageways, through the creepy deserted cavern and up the final staircases.
Standing at the gate, I listen with an ear pressed to the door, no mindless chatter of gods. Clicking open the side door, I look around the street. No one is watching. Pressing the door shut, I wander the back alley that exits to a main street. Tall walls cast dark shadows in the side street.
Slipping out onto the main street, I see divine flooding in the area. Compact rows of townhomes, businesses, and gardens sprawl around the manor like a labyrinth. Walls bedecked in ribbons and lanterns in shades of red, pink, and cream. The largest courtyard holds what feels like most of Apollo's court. All of which are filled with pure glee. Dancing merrily, flirting with hopeful romances, and relaxing from the daily stressors of life.
“Have you heard Lord Apollo has opened his wine reserves?” A black-haired god with brown eyes states gleefully to a man on his arm.
The handsome man returns with a mischievous smile, “Ooo. No, I have not–”
Pushing past the couple, I continued through the festival.
What’s so bad about this festival that I need to lock myself away? Internally, I roll my eyes. Everyone seems to be having a good time. trying to let the pain of day to day life bog them down.
Slipping into town, I headed toward the largest gaggle of people. Following the magic which is increasing in intensity as I get closer and closer. My face flush, the sensations are almost orgasmic as I hit the peak.
Even through the chilled air, I can feel the lust claw its way under my skin. Yes, everyone surrounding me seemed merry enough but there was something primal about this holiday. The dimmed lights, packed crowds in the streets, even how the crowds rolled against each other. Strangers, flirting with complete and utter strangers in ways that made me only blush.
Others dance in the street; I keep my head down. Spring Equinox with the gods is truly unlike how Spring Equinox is celebrated at home. The gods, goddesses, nymphs, satyrs and other creatures all feel so animalistic. Never had I ever been seen grinding against anyone like that… Even on a fertility holiday.
Back home they’d have been the talk of the town in all the bad ways. Here, it feels like it’s accepted.
The bonfire flutters in the evening light. Shadows of dancers cast evil looking shadows around. Silver hair bouncing in the low light catches my eye.
Artemis.
