Artemis stood up sluggishly from beneath her trees and headed east on foot, as to continue her mission to aid the helpless and moderately useless: Minotaur that stood docile holding up his unsteady tent that suggested circus were in town. She walked for days on end: reflecting on her last conversation with her family of Kind-Hearted Hunters, and thought over the many conjoining issues that all her battles had in common. Their conversations often held great insight to politics, as they appreciated her views and opinions on the succession in which dead-eyed savages managed her land as she aged. Artemis found it was probably for the best that she fought alone, as her family had no issue to stepping forward and calming her anger in the moment: by holding her accountable to her strange ability to help others, and subside her occasionally oversight of sensible reactions towards situations. Artemis continued marching and admired the many Christmas decorations that the villages displayed as she passed their adorned festivities. She loved Christmas and found content in the worlds ability to move past their differences in order to praise and celebrate all the diversity that defined mankind.

She approached the land she sought in the East, and Artemis was impressed that the walk had been less tedious with the unending delightfulness brought only with the bright lights and merriness. Artemis leaned against a nearby tree and took: consultation from the endless basin of knowledge provided by Golden Fleece, and briefed herself up on the subject known as the Daughter of King Minos. She pulled at the silver intertwined threads held up by her gold lined magic book, and found there were more questions to the integrity of the Daughter of King Minos than answers. The woman held the resemblance of a tall porcelain doll that were possessed with life everywhere but her eyes: her husband stood equally cock-eyed, astute and beautiful, but Artemis felt the husbands lack of vocals made the couple seem quite creepy. Artemis didn’t like anything spooky, as her father had often lay boundaries of censorship to what things she was allowed to see and or be around as a child since she occasionally need help breathing. He knew Artemis had issues sleeping and figured it easier for the both of them to watch her intake of horror filled experiences, as they had proven to lead togher nightmares until the child avoided sleep all together. These memories raised a red flag as she continued to research the couple and she felt super uncomfortable with their inability to express individuality in their own thoughts. The mannequin called the Daughter of King Minos and her husband bore such falsity in personality that Artemis began to doubt the two were even of the same species to her and the rest of mankind.

Artemis instinctively wanted to casually punch the Daughter of King Minos in the face: if only to get her to stop spewing the commercialized scripts of excuses and future plans of her father. The entire family were to be indicted for the errors of the Boar and the Cyclops: boasting of their Active Measures that had already been taken and destroyed the Republic from within. The unwanted woman were complicit in her own ways: a mid-level fashion designer that believed she would be entitled to hold the throne as predecessor to the Chief in Command by way of nepotism. Again this Boar nicknamed King Minos was deeming to be a royal pain-in-the-ass to Artemis, and she began dreading encountering anyone affiliated with the beast and his backwards views: mostly his children. As she stood in front of the tall woman called the Daughter of King Minos: Artemis observed her demeanor and saw that the woman may have been expecting this encounter as she threw her head up in animation. The doll-like woman began to market Artemis with empty words and ensured her that her father was fully in control of the land, and that she too were peeved. Artemis informed her robots did not hold feeling yet, and the woman seemed unaware she were half mechanical as she frowned confused by what she had meant. When Artemis asked of the tent that stood whimsically and posed great danger to those inside: the woman finally fell silent having finally realized that her ability to hit key-words in tone were unimpressive to Artemis. There was no need to even attempt to sell Artemis her bullshit, and instead the woman took up a brush pouting as she began to paint everything in her sight as she slopped a coat of false gold vigorously in a “secret”panic. The whole lot of them were idiots. Artemis didn’t have time for this shit, and so she turned to the doll-like husband and asked him what his plans were for his family once the tent capsized, and moreover if he looked forward to spending the rest of his privileged life...behind bars: for being complicit.

Artemis reminded him specifically the multiple quotes given by his wife to the general public: boasting of being complicit, and to this he sighed to her growing rap-sheet of visibly punishable crimes. The doll-like husband opened his mouth to speak, and Artemis caught herself making face at how minuet and odd his voice was in comparison to his body. She felt distracted by this unappealing voice and the entirety of the situation, as Artemis allowed herself to pass judgement: that the couple were both now officially deemed sketchy and now creepy in a haunted way. The educated doll-like man who had married the Daughter of King Minos seemed to have a better grasp of reality: in comparison to the rest of the family. She found this mumbled conversation Artemis gave relief in the idea that there may be almost one sensible person in the famed house painted white. Artemis asked how his many…many…many tasks were coming along, as he had been hand selected by the Boar to solve a multitude of world problems by himself. Artemis saw his eyes tire with her ability to freely make snarky remarks to his future failures as she giggled and called him a straight sucka for pretending that he could achieve peace in the Middle East on top of the ludicrous demands of the following minor tasks. He was like the Atlas, but instead of not being able to talk out of exhaustion for holding up the world: the doll-like husband was at loss to find words for the situation because he held timid voice all the time as he screeched and yammered like a bird. It wasn’t Artemis’s prerogative to hold manners and drink tea with the odd boy, dressed as a bank teller: so she ignored his mild mumbling and interjected if he offered any actual solution to the Minotaur and his collapsing tent. To this: he avoided looking at his pretty wife as she feverishly began painting herself metallic with liquid gold: aimlessly, as she laughed maniacally with her well rehearsed antics, as the gold paint cascaded downward across her now bare chest, and sensually dripped everywhere. She became hysterical as she ripped off her sharp tweed cotton-candy dusted clothes, and began pleasuring herself with the handle of the paintbrush. The golden madness brought by the cursed paint: had finally penetrated the Daughter of King Minos. The pale man looked shocked at his partner, and Artemis avoided looking in her general direction: blushing to herself, as the live show were mildly arousing. Artemis had once admired the strawberry hued Chanel suit worn by a famed first lady: it were like lingerie for women who liked politics in a sense: presenting power and an effervescence of brilliant taste in historical fashion. The two finally avoided averting their gaze, as they admired the view of the woman as she openly masturbated in front of them: equal as men next to one another lost in a trance and embarrassed by their erections. He finally remembered they were in conversation: asking Artemis her opinions as to what to do, as he attempted to hide his actual erection. Such male issues Artemis didn’t have to worry aboot: continuing to marvel at his woman, as she continued her marvelous spectacle: softly touching her clitortoise and moving the handle slowly in and out as she moaned. He broke her spell: as he interrupted her lustful stares towards his wife. He had only wanted to secure the health and safety of his family now, and worried his wife was now forever ill: with her obsession with the gold paint and all the illicitness it had brought into their lives. It was simply easier for Artemis to just say “yep.” and walk off as she stole one last glance at the gold woman reaching climax in public. She left knowing they’d have plenty of time to discuss the details on their long trek without her sexy distraction on their way back to the swaying tent: their only mission now was to help preserve mankind.

As they walked Artemis told the quiet man how it was now pertinent that he find his way through the tent that held dead-eyed savages and to retrieve the incriminating book lined with gold that the Minotaur had used to begin construction of the circus now ran by the Boar. The man said nothing: which Artemis took as an understanding of agreement and she continued to talk shit aboot the idiocy...that was the entirety of the surreal political situation. As they approached the tent Artemis saw his demeanor change as it became apparent that he didn’t have a lot of personal experience with the dead-eyed savages that yelled nothing of articulation or value, and that he may be afraid of their screeching passions for false patriotism. She stood at the entrance and when she moved to usher him in: he took a step back in disapproval. He objected to the plan and what it demanded of him personally, as were the traditional ways of the dead-eyed savages. Artemis had little to no patience: she were tired of walking and talking to herself up until this point, and disliked the doll-like husband already. She cut a long piece of the rope from the side of the tent and tethered his waist to hers and instructed him to wait at the entrance until she successfully tied her end to the center of the labyrinth for him to follow along. He uselessly nodded his agreement to avoid danger and stood looking aloof outside the boundary of the tent. Artemis was perturbed to his lack of courage, and openly wondered how he had managed a life that had been placed him in authority to find solutions for all the problems that plagued mankind.

Artemis moved swiftly through the crowds of dead-eyed savages: horrified as they continued to spew their words of hatred and ignorance, and she felt a surprising thud at her foot as she randomly kicked something that lay on the floor. It was a naked man curled up in a heap on the floor amongst the labyrinth of people, and when she stepped over him she glanced downward and felt her heart stop in confusion. She kneeled down and saw he was unconscious and naked from being stomped on by endless dead-eyed savages lost in a slumber. She propped him up and continued to nurse him and since she wasn’t an actual medical doctor: she continued with her entertaining and highly effective method of bitch slapping him hard across his face. It wasn’t the much the well deserved slap: but her familiar giggling that made the Viking awake quickly and he continued to stare into her eyes with confusion and anger she had touched him. Artemis stood up and and held her hand out to assist the aging Viking from the floor, and to her annoyance he rejected her aid: standing up with haste, as he avoided looking at her. She smiled honestly having realized she hadn’t made him up, and that he was indeed the most handsome individual she had yet to meet since she were back to avoiding looking at him. She turned to him to say hello, and he stared at her with his striking blue eyes and grumbled that she should give him a reason as to why she were naked. Artemis giggled out loud, as she had completely forgotten that she was still "chillin" in her birthday suit...doing some crazy-action shit. She piped back confidently: waving her wee hand with sass at all his tallness and as she avoided looking at his matching nudeness in her own embarrassment. He seemed to chose to ignore her well informed opinion that he may be naked: holding back endless blushing that she hid by making weird baritone sounds and giggling as result to his glorious nakedness. She forgot how much she enjoyed being sassy with the Viking: offset by his rebuttal, as he continued to frown and hold eye contact stating the fact that she were wrong in her observations. To this blatant lack of awareness... to something easily provable: Artemis just shrugged her shoulders and allocated her energy elsewhere. Old men standing blind and having their dicks out seemed to be an issue everywhere: and he was no different to the other dead-eyed savages. Artemis knew that it was substantially more important to ignore the naked man of her dreams momentarily, and so she left him standing alone in the crowd as she set course with her own mission to try and assist mankind.

Artemis watched as the world agreed with her awful story, and laughed at herself for the things she had once called hysteria: now just called the news. She gave the palms forwards to approve of willingness to enjoy her company: an agoraphobic individual. She thought of her time with the Viking, and felt him searching for her in his dreams. He had looking upon the leaves and seeking an earring that belonged to his wife. Artemis helped him find the coral and gold stud, and he decided to walk her home in return: telling him it were good to see him: with all honesty. She smiled that he remembered her face, as she had once told him the secrets of her wishes. The pair had once strolled along urban streets in stride, and he asked her if all she ever did...was play ball upon wooden courts. She replied "I wish", and felt his heart melt with confusion. He had once blushed at her past as a leader of cheer and pep: his looks of love often overwhelming for Artemis. This trait of Western silliness were an oddity she noted because her Traditionalism expected Indigenous Warriors to walk the Trail of Tears for the soon ending eternity. She needed his blushing and admirable stares, but begged for him to get off her dick: for he had no intention of calling her his wife. Artemis began to search for him in her dreams once more, but knew their odd flirtation and open infatuation would eventually cast ugly glow upon her progress of self-discovery: giving her option to cut ties forever, instead of becoming a home-wreckers to Dolores and her cursed shell: complicit.

Next Chapter: [ XI ] Artemis and the Cerberus