Artemis caught herself sitting still and slipping into trance-like sways whenever she felt Orion’s keen glances drift away from her. She would turn the world inside out to seeking his gaze, avoiding the script that inverted and collapsed upon itself before her eyes. Her love for him was a black-hole that consumed her thoughts. Artemis ignored the motion sickness that washed over her in waves, taking ease in the memory of Orion holding her small face in his soft hand. She had fallen in love with the memory of a man she couldn’t bare to reach out to, and her lack in enthusiasm followed in her footsteps echoing a memory of her desperation.

She had once gotten lost in a daydream as a child: watching a pastel colored egg as it spun upon the floor. The familiarity of elliptical courses rattled her wandering mind, as the egg spun rapidly until the dye began to darken with the speed of the egg. She felt her head tilt in fascination, as it whizzed aboot and attempted to find balance upon its axis. Artemis relaxed until her reality crash upon her childish gazing and halted her daydreams of freedom: she felt Hera screeching that she was "an ungrateful child" for playing with a hollowed egg: when she had been gifted a basket full of sugar and trinkets. Artemis was wicked in her aloof pondering, and Hera had called her daft and slow until others agreed that her actions were questionable at best. Artemis had nothing to lose, and so she left such unpleasant memories buried until they resurfaced in her bored desperation.

Artemis sat quietly and scribbled down her memories and daydreams, wishing Orion was near enough to her, as to carry some of the burdening sorrows that weighted heavily upon her spine. She missed his thoughtful commitment in singing and entertaining her, smiling in amusement that he would be silly if it meant that she’d smile with sincerity. Artemis had little to smile aboot, and found weakness in her situational differences that now began to bother her. Simple issues like having few infant portraits of herself, caused her heart to swell with grief, and mourn the orphan that lived without a past. Artemis deserved the loneliness of the facts she called life, and held portraits of Roro dear to her heart: rejoicing that she’d eventually have something of her own to look forward to. It allowed the rain to pass without the waters to fall heavily upon the veil that covered her crown and dragged along the floor in a magnificent train: Artemis implemented social distancing with her fashion choices, and only allowed Orion to raise his hand to her face as he played a magical Lyre. She knew there would never be enough time for her to explain why she wept softly: she had been abused into to believing she didn’t deserve love, and the unending protection it offered. He stood below her veil, as he sang sweet songs to her and bowed upon one knee as he coddled her fragile smile.

 Artemis was broken in her worry for him, and utterly confused, as to his absence in her arms. She avoided the many errands that piled upon her oak table, and hid her longing for Orion with every annoyed breath. Her lungs ached as she wished to scream in anguish, demanding to know where he was, and why he wasn’t beside her. Artemis needed the pain of knowing she were a human with empathy, and she had stepped foot inside a simulation to regain her humanism. She had needed to prove to Orion that her woes and worries had been real. Singing softly, as she daydreamed of Orion and longing to hold her hand to his chest. Artemis was a wife lost in the memories of her life living Worlds Apart, having retraced her past with DJ Loverboy to spite Orion: in the efforts to prove that they were destined to be separated or divorced in the near future. She had wanted him to hurt in knowing that other men loved her beyond words. It had been a fear Artemis had manifested upon meeting Orion, and she had spun a web of gold to harness golden eggs that rolled out of control below her shield . She found herself missing games and spontaneous adventures, and wondering why she had given up her hobbies to appease the many men around her. Artemis had replaced her skills on wooden courts and casting golden arrows in the devices she had once loved, as she wondered if either had been a reason to relate to Orion and his countless talents in hobbies. The memory of cheering him on, left her blushing at his array of talents, and wondering why he avoided looking at her as she proudly applauded him with bouncing thrills and a beaming smile.

She felt her heart racing in the shy thoughts of his kisses and his meaningful touch. He had loved her since she could remember, and it had seemingly never been enough for the both of them. For, Artemis was often seen as a virus to his kind heart, and he was neglectful in his presence, whenever he was upset with her. Both parties were left feeling guilt: knowing that each were far too good to the other, they were a force to be reckoned with. He lived in the fear of saying the wrong things to her, and triggering her sensitive heart, and she lived in the fear of what excuses she’d be forced to give him: the sadness of a woman with curved spine and woeful seasons. Artemis had survived her worst sadness on the matter with the aid of Mama Bear, as the girl had returned to living a life walking to and from her mother Athena’s house. The girl ran away from her awful mothering and escaped to a boys house: where the kind family opened their house to her and fed her during a shattering pandemic season. Mama Bear was confined indoors, and the wasteful harvests of wheat and corn were thrown away without her bright light warming the land wherever she walked. The long-haired beauty listened to Artemis, as she hid silent tears and compared her current lover to the unending love of Artemis and Orion. Artemis had found a friend in the young girl, and allowed her to see her as a distraught and lost woman, attempting to rearrange her life following an accident. Her aunt was left without the dreams of visiting the stars, and denied the ability to fly above the clouds in a sky-boat. She had lost sight of her ambitions and the love of Orion that drove her forward each day. Artemis allowed the young girl to apologize on behalf of the world, and she smiled that the young child she had helped raise, had been so understanding and insightful to her pain. Mama Bear had been her greatest accomplishment, and Artemis loved the need she felt to protect her at all costs. Together they had survived the worst winter in Artemis’s life, and it had inspired her write a book to begging Orion to seek her open door once more, and to hold her in his arms with pride. The door had always been open for Orion to step through, but Artemis had began to understand why she had previously asked him to leave and never return unless he had the intentions of calling her his wife. She had invented an unending story that allowed her see old friends and lovers without guilt or shame, and lost sight of the her beloved, with each word she spoke. Artemis started to remember all the memories lost in shallow listless dreams, and stepped towards the man she loved, as she tilted her head to the right gently. Artemis survived each day of sorrow by daydreaming of leaning forward, and kissing him as though she could imagine opening her eyes just in time to see him try and hide his blushing smile.

Next Chapter: [ XLIII ] Artemis and the Lost City of Atlantis