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[apollinares.livejournal.com]

There is dust on his face, in his eyes, in his hair, on his clothing.

(He's spent the past months roaming.

I will remember and not be unmindful of Apollo who shoots afar.

No destination in mind, no end in sight.

As he goes through the house of Zeus, the gods tremble before him and all spring up from their seats when he draws near, as he bends his bright bow.

He just had to go.

But Leto alone stays by the side of Zeus who delights in thunder; and then she unstrings his bow, and closes his quiver, and takes his archery from his strong shoulders in her hands and hangs them on a golden peg against a pillar of his father's house.)
 

He hasn't been here in what feels like an age.

He doesn't stay inside (he never stays), instead taking the quickest route out the back door, towards the lake.

(He needs the space.)

(He's missed it.)
 

[ tiny tag: apollo ]

Comments

[apollinares.livejournal.com]

"I wasn't really keeping track," he admits, wrinkling his nose.

"Here. There. Everywhere.

"I remember Africa."

[untiedtheknots]

"I haven't been there in a long time.

You done wandering for now?"

There's no judgment in the question, just curiosity. This place is a way station, after all. There might be somewhere else he needs to go.

[apollinares.livejournal.com]

"It's more lovely than you remember it to be. Parts of it, anyway."

He blinks, looking over his shoulder as though expecting to see something there besides the woods.

"I'm done," he decides, glancing back at his sister.

"For now, I think."

[untiedtheknots]

She takes his hand, squeezing it gently.

"Good to have you back, then."