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Thread: Shadows of Olympus: Chapter Three IC

  1. #251
    Just Damn Cute May's Avatar
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    Persephone

    Persephone cringed back when he spoke to her that way. She knew he wasn't angry with her, but she knew he was disappointed in her for not knowing that herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered to herself, looking down at the ground instead of up at him for a moment, cheeks flush with her shame. Why couldn't she have figured that out on her own? Because I'm foolish, she sighed, berating herself internally as he went on. She listened of course, but she didn't quite listen to everything he said. She had messed up and now she had to make sure she didn't again. "I know," she said louder this time, glancing up at him from under her hair that had fallen in her eyes.

    When he came towards her she lifted her head up some, meeting his eyes with her own. Her lip quivered for a moment, holding back a bit of a frown. She still did not wish to leave him alone. Not with a fresher threat down there with him. She trusted Charon's eyes, but she did not trust him to help Ares any if it came to a fight. She knew he could take care of himself, but that did not mean she wanted him hurt any. A hurt Ares could not take of himself as well as a whole one.

    As he went on she felt her cheeks flush even more, this time not out of shame. The corner of her mouth tugged some, a hint of a smile starting to spreed across her face. The deal he offered actually made her smile fully. "It's a deal," she laughed, nodding her head eagerly, more than ready to please him by doing what he asked of her. "If there is nothing, I will go and talk with Athene. I fear that my brother has been distracted with Ty's charms." She rolled her eyes some, knowing that she had been more than distracted by Ares' not that long ago. But they hadn't been on a mission of great importance.

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    Artemis

    The Huntress stood and listened to her brother talk with Nemesis. Orion came and stood in front of her and she lifted her eyes up to him as he spoke, apologizing and asking for forgiveness. She couldn't know forgive him, he must know that. No matter how angry she got with him, she would forgive him. Like she couldn't ever not forgive Apollo. Those two, it didn't matter what they did to her, she would, eventually, forgive them. But that didn't mean she had to be sunshine and rainbows with him either. "I forgive you," she murmured softly as he touched her arm to walk outside.

    She watched him go, a slight frown creasing her brow some. Part of he wanted to rush after him, kiss him and tell him that she still loved him, just in case he feared she didn't. But she couldn't do that. She couldn't just let him treat her like a weak woman and not make him understand how much that hurt her. He and Hephaestus had both done that. And she didn't enjoy that. She couldn't let him go alone though. Even though he wasn't a god, that did not mean he was out of danger. Looking down at the faithful hound at her side, the one that had stepped out his mistress' way so she could fight freely and had returned again. "Go join him," she murmured to him and without hesitation the dog padded outside to stand sentry at Orion's side, quiet and regal, looking out at the street with knowing dark eyes.

    Hephaestus' words about her rather ruffled her feathers again and she found herself glaring at her brother. "Do you always push off responsibility when you get yelled at?" she asked in a huff, rolling her eyes. "Or do you just like annoying me specifically?" Her tone was cool, but despite her annoyance, she wasn't outright mad at him either.

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  2. #252
    Emotional Cocktail Fallenreaper's Avatar
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    Tyche

    Tyche looked at him, examining his words as her hand paused at the door. Her body seemed to be made of stone, absorbing his change in going with the flow as she nodded. It made sense but something in Tyche’s soul, her instinct, told her this was a very bad idea and the consequences of it might be his undoing in the end. She only hoped it wouldn’t get him killed, playing chicken with Ares was one thing because Persephone was about but here, it was only the two of them. She moved back, seeming an easy pace back to the bed before sitting on the edge with her back turned away from him, his hands on the remote while he flipped through the screen on the TV for a movie. Finally stopping on an animated one, she had seen it once or twice while her eyes skimmed over the familiar title briefly and an actual smile crept to her lips at his choice.

    Her head turned, feet brought up to rest on the bed, at his words.

    Tyche shook her head about the things being said, namely rash and unjust, the muffled sounds of the movie began as background noise, but not a word against it was put to the air. From the sound of it, she had already done something unjust by not being the goddess they expected. A tug to say something, warning to him not to provoke Athene, as he fought with the woman at the front desk over redirecting his call that it seemed only to make him angry and frustrated. It was finally done, he set the receiver down with a look of tired in his eyes and from the one sided scene Tyche could understand. No matter the amount of time that passed it felt like hours of an execution, dread twisted itself in knots while the clock ticked bit by bit deeming more like the toll of death bells unaware of what to come.

    Ty couldn’t help her head come to rest on the clock face every so often. Her hand balled up in a fist, unfurling with the anxiety that crept along her body tingling like one of Athene’s servants across her spine reaching every part until if felt like Ty would crack into pieces, her ear deaf to the movie’s sounds while she lost track of time in her mind. The knock made Ty jump, her body nearly leapt off the bed from the sharp rap as it was, control and business like, the noise seemed loud and earth shattering. It was Areion’s wave of his hand that drew Ty’s attention, motioning for her to calm and sit even as his body moved to the door cracking it just enough to face Athene. It was blocking the doorway, shielding her in a way as he spoke in a low tone that was muffled by the background sounds but it wasn’t hard to see his body was laced with tension.

    He moved aside allowing Athene’s tall form walk coolly through, her steely eyes ignored him, as the click of the door was the signal for all hell to break loose. It was like the soft sound of distant thunder, a muffled roar that great in volume until it deafened everything in her head as small black spiders emerged from the walls. They skimmed and traveled like a massive black wave that washed over him, covering his body while he moved against them trying to remove only to have his body fall victim to the white threads that cocoon him up to the neck. For a few hearts Ty thought Athene was going to suffocate him and a familiar, unwanted feel swept over what depression had pressed on her.

    If he attacked her was one thing. That one thing, defending her but likely the words that passed at the door were of that nature. Yet they were only words and from those words, Athene took it was an attack treating him no differently than her family treated their own over the eons. Tyche felt herself relieved, her mind fighting the anger that seemed to dig at her and knowing if she lost it than from the looks of it, Areion would be the one to pay the price. She wouldn’t be a factor responsible for that. Her eyes never looked from him watching as Athene brought herself towards him, Tyche’s body on edge with the closeness between, before bending down and raising his eyes to hers.

    Her words were ice and Nemesis flirted across her mind, while a single spider floated from its spinner just in front of his eye. It seemed wrong to her, seeing him bound and looking death in the eye before Athene’s voice reached her. The sound of it, Athene was standing near her but she failed to realize it as her attention was elsewhere absorbing the scene that played out. After several moments of silence, her face turned and Ty made no effort to move for now. Her tone was steady as she could make it.

    Does it really matter? My fate is already decided…nothing I say will make any difference,” Tyche only spoke the truth as she saw it with as much strength as she could-inside feeling like it fell short, that look of judgment wasn’t new to her.

    For a second, Athene’s face seemed to dissolve into Nemesis. It was the same, cold and set on the path given, one they believe or told was the proper course of action that even another point of view would not change it. In the end trying to convince Nemesis of something she didn’t agree with would bear no more good then talking to a brick wall. Tyche knew it would only be a waste of time to try, of that she had no illusions and wouldn’t pretend she stood a chance of anything. Besides as much as Ty wished she could, she didn’t fully what had occur and deeper, she was afraid to. She let the woman’s face fade back to Athene, her eyes fighting to keep contact with the razor grey eyes.

  3. #253
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    Aphrodite
    Chicago


    She slid her arms through a black lamb's wool trench, and wrapped a cashmere scarf around her neck, pleased that Dionysus had made sure so many of his promises had been kept. When they had arrived at the Deus Inc plane, all her clothes had been waiting for her. The trip to Chicago hadn't left her disappointed either. The mile high club was nothing new to the goddess, but desecrating the almighty Zeus' possessions? That was always priceless.

    The couple had made their way to the high end of town, "the loop," to meet with some cop Dionysus' insider had pointed them too. The restaurant was likely astronomically out of the mortal's price range, but Aphrodite wasn't about to go slumming to get the information they needed. Between a celebrity, her overt sensuality, and freely flowing food and alcohol, the man didn't stand a chance of saying no.

    She sat at the small table, tucked away in a corner far from the rest of those dining, next to Dionysus. The seat opposite them remained vacant, the mortal had yet to show and Aphrodite was growing impatient. She sipped at the glass of severely over priced wine, the candles flickering against her pale skin and sparkling golden top. Pleased as she was with Dionysus, his chiding remarks from New York still grated on her and she remained largely silent.

    The empty chair finally scraped into life, a tall and beefy man, only barely put together enough for the establishment took his place. He was handsome, to women who liked the looks of an abusive son of a bitch at least, but Aphrodite offered him a seductive smile regardless. "Tony Campagna? A pleasure." She extended her hand, not bothering to introduce herself or Dionysus.

    The cop, a man in his early forties grunted a greeting but took the goddesses hand and awkwardly kissed it. "I thought Abe was shittin' me." His eyes darted to Dionysus, "guess not." Tony took his seat and looked around the place. "Well at least y'had the sense for some privacy. Now what can Tony do for you?"

    The cops eyes were on her and Aphrodite didn't give Dionysus a chance to jump in. "We need information and the file 'Abe' told you about." She leaned forward, her generous cleavage pressing out against the blouse. Tony's travelled down as she intended and he licked his lips. She inwardly rolled her eyes, some men made it too easy.

    "Information, sure. But I can't go around handing out official files. Nevermind who the fuck you are." He paused his eyes snapping back to Aphrodite's face. "Scuse the French, miss."

    The goddess smirked and laughed lightly. "Your French is just fine, but we really will be needing the files." The smirk dropped from her face, replaced by a reprimanding scowl. "All you need to know is that we need it and it will not be traced back to you. Name your price, we can pay it."

    Tony managed to return the scowl for a second, but sweat formed on his brow. He poured himself a glass of wine and took a long swallow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and muttering about the "swill."

    It wasn't her initial plan, but it seemed a delicious way to turn the good cop, bad cop routine against the officer. She let her mind travel to thoughts of carnal pleasures, she imagined the cop grunting like a pig. Dionysus would be livid if the cop took the bait. She rued the fact that she even had to question her efficacy, but she wasn't just attempting to seduce the man, she was calling on her now fickle realm.

    "A good romp in the sack and the files are yours." The cop leaned back in his chair, a smile plastered on his face.

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  4. #254
    Senior Member Pockets's Avatar
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    Hepaestus

    "Do you always push off responsibility when you get yelled at?" she asked in a huff, rolling her eyes. "Or do you just like annoying me specifically?"

    Darin arched an eyebrow at Artemis and leaned back against the bar to relieve some of the strain on his legs. He took a drink from his open bottle of Wild Turkey and considered her words before responding.

    "I did not realize," he said. "That I was pushing off responsibility at all." He sat down with a relieved sigh and cast a quick eye about in search of his canes. They were at opposite ends of the bar, one by where he had 'questioned' Frank the Bartender and one across the room where he had used it to break the ceiling tiles so he could access the support beams. "Perhaps I misspoke. Burning the bodies was your idea. I am not incorrect or falsifying information by stating that. Perhaps however I should have pointed out that burning the entire bar was my addition to your idea. I apologize if I upset you, sister dear, it was not my intent in the slightest."

    He painfully collected his canes and came to stand by her offering her a drink from the bottle of bourbon. "How long do you think before Nem get's here?"
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  5. #255
    Discordia intra. Hale's Avatar
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    Alistair Mackenzie.

    Remote Research Station No. 30 (RRS),
    450 km's from Accra, Ghana.


    Thud... thud...

    Each footfall was like thunder in the his ears, heart pounding in cadence to his long strides like the beating of war drums. Emerald green eyes squinted to the fast light approaching, narrowing until at last he walked from open entrance of the single story communications building, in his white knuckled grip he held a .12-gauge smooth bore Winchester shotgun as if it were a toy. His six feet and four inches had to duck when he emerged through the door and stood on the steel mesh catwalk outside in the oppressive heat, swivelling his head this way and that with mild agitation until the aircraft came into his view. The old Scotsman churned inside at the steel monstrosity that lay before him, how it had even managed to land here seemed to be a giant fuck you, kindly but it was what was inside that really made his blood boil. A wrist jerked in a single, fluid motion and caused the pump to cock back, spewing out the last spent buckshot cartridge before jerking forward again to chamber a new one. There was good cause for him to be so outwardly hostile, HE was here. In the flesh! The elderly man licked his lips with a sickening grin, today was going to be a day of reckoning.

    He descended the three planks that might have been steps at one point, bouncing down each before his feet touched firm, sun-baked ground. Shotgun in hand, he tossed it up into the air enough to grab it with one hand on the wooden grip and kept it leveled at his hip. The thought occurred that he could have taken a more stealthy approach, oh, aye, he mused, if I was a big ol' Nancy! If there was going to be a fight then it would be him facing his nemesis, man-to-man, that last part made his grin spread even wider. His movements were painfully slow, the barrel keeping perfectly in place as he caught sight of the three standing close to the plane... and... and...

    “YOU!” Alistair bellowed, his other hand stabbed out with an accusing finger, “Boy-oh, you picked the wrong day, the wrong fuckin' day to set foot on MY turf.” with vivid recollection, each memory that surged through the Scotsman's head fuelled his undying hatred toward this despicable creature. The Edinburgh accent cut roughly through to those standing before him, though he was not interested in the escorts or whatever the fuck they were.

    “I was beginning to think ya'd never show your wrinkly-arse face, all those clever little stunts and tricks haven't made you a touch wiser, nay, I'd think you've gone daft in that wee head of yours!” His statement was exasperated by the loud hacking sound the emitted from his throat, cocking his head to the left and spat a disgusting wad of tar-coloured phlegm. Christ, he was itching for the man to say something stupid, his wrist adjusted to direct the muzzle toward chest level as his eyes froze to his target.

    “Well?! What wise-crack do ya have for me today? Oh, Hey, I pissed in yer drinkin' well... or, let's release a hive of killer bees that are right pissed in the sleeping quarters! Wasn't that a laugh?! Haha! Who's laughing now, you old cu-” His venomous rant was cut short when he heard shouting from behind, glancing back over his shoulder with mild annoyance to find the short black woman waving her hands frantically in the air.

    “Doctor! Doctor! You promise no more shooting!” Marie yelled in her French accent as she closed the hundred foot gap between the station and the plane, Alistair groaned before turning back to face the three intruders. The King of Buggery stood before him, his presence mocking everything within the old man that leaned toward what was good and just in the world.

    “Aye, I suppose I did. After today, I promise ya, lass, no more shooting.” Alistair replied meekly, his tall frame inclining toward Anansi with shoulders bent down, relaxing his grip but keeping the barrel at a you should definitely think twice before making any sudden movements position. Old eyes snapped to those standing next to Anansi, it took a moment to adjust to the light before a spark of recognition flickered through them. That spark ignited a flame of anger, furrowing his bushy brows.

    “Hermes? What in the name of the Blessed Virgin are ye doin' here? And with... him! A look of confusion crossed the old man's face, not quite sure whether he should lower his weapon or keep it where it was. Depending on the next words spoken, he had a good idea what he would do. The shotgun wouldn't do much but if it came to it he would relish jamming the wooden stock repeatedly into Spindle Leg's face until all that was left was bloody pulp.

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  6. #256
    Moderator Lillian Thorne's Avatar
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    Athene

    3:10

    Athene looked down at the pathetic lump on the bed, her grey eyes hard as she considered that this goddess had nearly done in her brother. She felt a welling of cold anger deep within her and let it fill her but not overwhelm her. She needed to be calm for this, focused which is why she had tended to the horse as she had. Tyche had been protected far too often and for too long and the result of that was what sat staring up at Athene with mulish, pathetic eyes. A stubborn martyred set to her jaw. If Tyche was going to be of any use, salvageable at all then she needed to stand on her own two feet and not lean on others, whining and clinging to the wrongs done to her in the past. She had every faith in her father’s wisdom in this.

    Her response disgusted Athene, a passive aggressive stab. Attempting to illicit guilt, turning aside the focus on what Tyche herself had done by trying to turn this into an act of oppression. Athene wanted to slap her, the girl needed a few good slaps honestly but that would play into the scene these two had clearly already played out in their heads, that of helpless damsel, white knight and oppressor. When really it was spoiled brat and interfering do-gooder vs overworked goddess. She was momentarily tempted to deviate from the plan. They weren’t worth saving and they were welcome to each other.

    She touched the vial in her pocket and stepped a little closer to Tyche. Her head cocking to the side owlishly as she observed the girl, still sad, still a waste even at that angle.

    “You really need to learn another role Tyche. Victim is a little overdone and in this instance wildly inappropriate. Now I asked you a simple question and I expect an answer not a pathetic evasion. But we can play it this way if you like. You so easily slip into this role don’t you? Poor little Tyche, expected to be a grown up after all this time. Sitting there looking so frail and battered while I stand over you so strong and oppressive. A sight likely to make your current protector mad with a desire to keep you safe from the consequences of your own actions. At least when I am condemning someone I have the balls to face them and tell them what is coming. I don’t stand outside and watch them burn.”

    Her eyes narrowed dangerously but her face remained a smooth impartial mask for all her sharply bladed words.

    “Now I asked you a question and I expect you to answer as what you are: a goddess. And not what you would have us believe you are: a victim. So Tyche, tell me what you have to say for yourself and for your recent actions concerning your father.”
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  7. #257
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    Anansi

    Anansi minded less and less that he’d lost to sparkle-tits. This ride was proving to be a fun one, what with the panic of the staff and the white knuckled nostril flared expression on Iris’ face, better than a quick grope by far. He wondered how often the messengers needed to depend on someone else’s efforts to move. Trust didn’t seem to be a thing the goddess had in spades just then and the results were entertaining. When they landed-crashed he let out a big whoop of Joy which was quickly soured by the light-foot’s quips. He gave the man a one fingered salute and then scuttled to the door to see what the scene looked like. He was hoping they’d crashed into something good. It would serve HIM right if they took out something good. He’d been a boil and Anansi’s ass since he set up shop and no matter what he’d done the bastard hadn’t left.

    Before he could even consider how to get down Hermes scooped him up and fluttered down to the ground. Anansi punched him in the shoulder, a blow that looked glancing but had a little more weight than one would expect. Anansi was old, as old or older as any of these people and he’d learned a few tricks in his time. As he stepped away from the Messenger he heard movement and turned to see the boil charging them down, a gun in hand and murder in his eyes. Anansi grinned, but there was more than a little bit of nerves in his eyes as they widened and he took a quick step behind Iris. She was tall enough that she covered most of the spindly old man as a giant bore down on them.

    “Hey man, your Territory? That’s rich! This is my land, you don’t belong here. You are not welcome and if the very land rises up and makes you know you are unwelcome then don’t blame me!” well that was stretching the truth a little, he’d done all those things and more but the key was to never admit, even in the face of incontrovertible truth.

    But the big man, for all that he held a gun was of little interest to the old god. Behind him was a beautiful brown vision with wondrous breasts swaying enticingly as she ran. His mouth watered and he flashed her a wide grin, white and blinding in his seamed face. Confused the woman drew up short and a slight flush began to be visible under her skin. This could be perfect, these intruders would lance his boil and he’d be left with this fine figured woman, free to burry himself in her softness for a time.
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  8. #258
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    Jeremiah

    Jeremiah winced as she dragged him along, each step sending shooting pain up his leg into his hip, his motion too fast for the cane to provide any relief. It wasn’t on the ground long enough to take any of his weight. He held his tongue, she was in a temper and he was not about to kill the last of his dignity by squalling but he was pissed. He knew she was mad at her family, he’d heard her on the phone and while likely the situation was bad, she had no fucking right to take it out on him. His eyes were wet by the time they reached his car and though he’d not shed a tear, if he had they would have been a mix of pain and fury.

    She handed him the phone and barked out her instructions and a bit of commentary about the situation, so in tune with her anger that she hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t moved. The second she’d stopped pulling him and had let his hand go, he had stopped, his hand on the cane white knuckled. His eyes were bright as he tried to put all his weight on his good leg. He watched her buckle in, shutting the door, even starting the car, like he couldn’t do it on his own. He stood there and watched her with his anger and hurt like a mask upon his face.

    She was so different here, so tense and angry. He got that her family messed with her head. He got that she had suffered some sort of tie that was only recently severed and made her prickly. But whose family didn’t mess with their heads? Did she think that was a gods only plague? Did she think that he’d just stick around and let her treat him like that just because she was a goddess and he wasn’t? He’d hoped that they were better friends than that, even if she wasn’t interested in him as anything but a friend. But no one ever gained respect and affection by being a doormat. It was time to establish a few things or part their ways.

    He stood and watched her, watched her until she finally looked up, probably only noticing his absence because the car wasn’t moving, wasn’t going where she wanted it to go. Was he just a tool? Was he no more important to her than transportation? Only of note if it didn’t do what it was told?
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  9. #259
    Discordia intra. Hale's Avatar
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    Dionysus...

    Chicago.


    He was in a good mood after their flight had proven to be... satisfying, so that when they arrived at the high-class restaurant at the top of the tower he basked in the warmth that he had just shared with her and took to a glass of exquisite sauvignon blanc of remarkable vintage; barely escaping his palate without leaving accents of spring and a fruity taste that caressed smoothly over his senses. Tony Campagna shared his surname with close similarities to the region that Dionysus considered the Holy Land of viticulture, that is where the similarities ended.

    When the brute finally arrived, the god frowned as he swirled the glass in his hand and gave a dull glance as he assessed the creature before him. When Aphrodite offered her hand, Dionysus smirked seeing the cretin set his lips to it. This presented an opportunity to the god, taking another sip of the wine and savouring both it's taste and this sniveling, detestable mortal. Everything about Mr. Campagna was foul, his impudent remarks left a sour impression in the god's mind. This oafish man had no idea who he was speaking to, Dionysus glanced to Aphrodite with a humorous grin but continued to allow the exchange to go on while he remained silent. A deal would be made, he set his glass on the table slowly and listened for as long as he could take it but felt a laugh rising inside him. It did not show initially, holding onto the blank stare and tapping his fingers to the edge of the table idly. Each gesture this man made was insulting, his presence was abhorred yet he caught the signals that she gave and knew her wiles too well to let this man even begin to think that she was inviting.

    Swill!

    That touched a sore nerve, the god of the vine suppressed a growl of agitation and leaned farther back into the chair. Tony was treading on thin ice, to bash the nectar and very essence of life before the god of wine was unbearable. It took a god's patience to not reach across the table and snuff out this pathetic excuse of a man, he had a job to do and his personal feelings would have to wait until he could properly dispose of this-

    “A good romp in the sack and the files are yours.”

    “The files, Mr. Campagna, if you have them with you we can make such a transaction take place in this very building. We are rather, pressed, for time right now and I'm sure you can appreciate the gravity of the situation. If it would suit you, there is a room here that I think you will find superb.” Dionysus grinned, his hand pressed to the surface of the table; he met Aphrodite's eyes and mischievously winked. Let the man have what he wants, that is what his eyes said to her. It was a shame, though, Dionysus had other plans in store for Tony.

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  10. #260
    Senior Member Squrmy's Avatar
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    Orion had smiled as he'd left the bar, looking over his shoulder at Artemis and giving her a small nod as he exited the bar; happy to be back in her favor again.*

    Now, standing watch outside, he heard the sounds of paws approaching softly behind him; he didn't turn, he knew who was coming. "Hello, Sirius." He murmured, reaching down and scratching at the hound's ears, a grin on his lips. Sirius had been 'given' to Orion by Artemis as a reward, a long time ago.*

    The Hunter frowned slightly, idly patting the hound at his side as he looked out at the road. It was strange, but the waiting with Sirius at his side reminded him of a time long ago - stalking through the forest, out on a hunt, adrenaline coursing through his veins at the prospect of downing an animal worthy of Artemis' praise.*

    Thinking of such things, Orion felt somewhat naked without a bow and his hunting knives - he'd have to ask Artemis if she could get him arms, at some point.*

    Shrugging, he gave Sirius another pat, waiting for Jeremiah's rust bucket.

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