Artemis caught herself sitting still and slipping into a mirthless trance-there was an unkeen sense of free-falling--whenever she felt Orion’s keen glances drift away from her. A situation where Artemis offered fortune and endless adoration, and he ponied up virility with shallow company that had ran its course; her heart was left in shambles when ego finally gave way. She would turn the world inside out to seeking his gaze, avoiding the plaintive script that inverted and collapsed upon itself before her eyes--his version of love was like a black hole, all consuming and capable of decapitating one’s confidence forevermore. He had made a mockery of her struggles, dragging Artemis along in moments of convenience; believing that a muse would forget the skills of conjuring scissors in moments of conflict--judging morals of a potential partner and silently taking jagged steel to a red thread in a final bid to preserve what was left of her...weeping and taking solitude that the begotten spell had been broken by the sickened hands; raising and lowering in insecurity...the final bow taken in a moment where the giant Indigenous Warrior was lost in a drunken slumber. She no longer needed to hide behind the trickery offered to a woman deemed unworthy--deliverance gifted with the option to draw up an exit door with unblemished desperation.

Artemis ignored the motion sickness that washed over her in waves--the best thing about surviving an Odyssey on choppy waters...was the comfort in knowing that chaotic storms were easy-enough to brace for. The unsteady ship rocking and sauntering through life--was all she had known; upgrades and modifications were on the horizon...looming as a falsehood. The cherished memories of Orion holding her small face in soft hands no longer served to anchor a narrative of toxic romance; his frivolity no longer charmed Artemis. She had fallen in love with the idea of an illusive man, a lack-of-enthusiasm followed in her stubborn footsteps--somehow bothering a man as he blithely bedded anyone and everyone, forever tugging at the echoing memory of her in obdurate desperation.

Artemis had once gotten lost in a daydream as a child: imbued whilst silently watching a pastel colored egg as it spun upon the floor--the wobble of a lopsided axis was mesmerizing, for whatever reason. The familiarity of elliptical courses rattled her wandering mind--there was no reliable course for the false food as it spun rapidly. She felt her head tilt in fascination, as it whizzed aboot and attempted to find balance upon itself. Artemis relaxed while attending the childish game; until an uncouth reality crashed upon curious gazing--halted all daydreams of freedom with the blink of an eye. She felt the vitriol spit-filled words wash over an already tired body....Hera screeching that Artemis was "an ungrateful child" for playing with a hollowed egg. Anything to detract or comport the comfort from the stark reality that her husband molested children--life had been so awful for Artemis back then; a child’s voice had been stolen by the indiscretions of men, her truths burdened by the enabling of bitter women...claiming disgusting lies had painted Artemis as forever wicked. She spent day-after-day, feeling unworthy of life itself...even when she had been gifted a basket full of sugar and trinkets; the performative acts of gift-giving seemed so daunting most days. Hera had called her daft, slower than molasses with a smug expression; until other adults spurned in agreement that her actions in being a reserved child were to be considered questionable at best. Artemis had nothing to lose, an evil couple had attempted to break her as a person by the age of seven; tortured by the idea that no adult cared enough to step-up and protect a malnourished child--life was simpler by moving past the unpleasant memories, the unsung dirge that had been overplayed and depreciated in turn...left with only the option to keep such discomfort buried until the abated issues resurfaced in her bored desperation.

Artemis sat quietly and scribbled down memories and daydreams, wishing Orion was near enough to care for the words she hadn’t been brave enough to gift a man with one foot in the door; the precipices of her affections scared him. One unexceptional day; she had snipped and snopped a red thread...burning its edges to ensure there was no way to mend the burdening sorrows that weighted heavily upon her spine. She missed his thoughtful commitment to provide song and laughter--he was capable of being silly most days, if it meant that she’d smile in his direction with sincerity. Life was easier with him--when she dulled a spark that was set aflame when standing on stage to perform a ballad...accepting a limpid fate where he had been given the right in looking down upon her in moments of insecurity. He had fallen for a stranger that wasn’t worth getting to know, and wrongfully taken her silence as pathetic ichor flowing through darkened veins as lovesick desperation.

Artemis had little to take glee in--noting a weakness in thread that had unraveled at the slightest touch; there was no way to dissuade situational differences...from a man crowned with genetic privilege, and her curses combating an ivory spine. Life’s splitting paths had torn them apart many moons ago. It was a scientific fact that the man had rarely satisfied her sexual desires to completion--self-exploration had gifted Artemis with an undeniable confidence, and brought success swiftly upon deserving heels. Rose-dusted cheeks and a glare replaced doe-eyed stares...she realized Orion had never cared to ask about the struggles that defined Artemis as a woman, unless transactional desires followed soon after. There hadn’t been anything in particular to break the spells of boundlessness entitlement; only a singular argument and a moments peace--offering Artemis a long night to gather fresh-air...the image of a selfish man wandering off with a close friend painted a lonely destiny....offering her a small-framed look into the future. Artemis chose to disembark a youthful relationship with the epiphany of what the harboring role of wife would mean...to a man that had already cast a caring person, as easy-to-discard...even easier to diminish if a culled female best friend chuckled in background....despite the sincerity that had once tied-off her vast smile.

Unfamiliar issues to most...kept Artemis cast away on an island of emotions; she was a person considered half-alive...suffering with the wound-less scars cut by the facts of only a handful of infant portraits. The world had already done its part to cause immense harm upon a sorrow-filled life, they had called her orphan...taught their children to steer clear of a cursed child. Memories of adults mistreating the lost childish version of herself never mended...her heart continued to swell with grief to this day. There was no one person to blame in a world that did its best to deem Artemis a combatant to the community structure; adults had already done their best to up their abuses--to offer attacks and discouragement upon a neighborly child. She lived without a past...forced to offer up her body to an adult that somehow deserved respect for his triumphs in battle and serving a Nation that loathed the Indigenous Warriors. Artemis deserved the loneliness of the facts she called life--the world had never proven otherwise, there was no trading port to pull the unsteady boat of lost sorrows ashore. There was only endless suffering and pages dripping over with the ghastly inks of childish desperation.

Artemis held baby portraits of Roro dear to her heart: rejoicing in the idea that she’d eventually have something to look forward to--whether the gift of the Gods was cast into a golden womb, or found past the door of the orphanage. Artemis implemented social distancing with her fashion choices--baring it all to prove which men took it upon themselves to abuse an already raped body; walking down a street...only to have a strange man walk up behind her and yeeting a small injured body upon the concrete. The story of terror would just be tossed aside by the authorities...despite her concerns that an operations manager and housekeeping manager had taken a recent resignation in duty, very, very personal. It was easier to call a crime of violent assault to be considered random--to overlook the details of a lucid man without rancid scent: yelling at Artemis cowering on a splayed stomach with shaking hands covering her head from whatever was to come next...half-way convinced that a public massacre had begun with the targeted battery, and then the realization he seemed thrown-off by the fact ears had been plugged. His threats couldn’t reach her; he was caged in to the actions of assaulting a woman passing by without a word or act of inciting his attention in the slightest...screaming wildly at nobody in desperation.

The barrage of threats meant less...when demanding that Artemis "shut the fuck up!", a speech abandoned; no longer holding weight when a stranger had also witnessed the man bee-lining on a path....peddling uphill past Artemis --screaming that the attacker leave Artemis alone on his campaign of terror. He ran away from consequences--achieving his evil intent to riddle fear into a small woman; too afraid to fight back...his target remained still and played dead...forcing the attacker to slowly come to terms that he had perpetuated mindless violence on a public road in the day-splashed hours of an evening pending. She remained still as a stone; unsure why he had attacked her without ransacking pockets, and realizing that she may have been targeted for blowing a Federal whistle on labor law violations and workplace harassment at the Benson. Artemis knew better than to let the physical assault go; if it were a random instance or some act of physical intimidation...there was no such thing as coincidences in her horror-filled life. she was prepared to waste years-upon-years pursuing charges, if it meant her life wasn’t painted with fear, regret, and an undeserved title of victim-hood...for only a day. Artemis hadn’t wanted to forget the man wandering on foot--holding a board threaded behind a bag upon a back, his skin black...his eyes angry, and then afraid; the coward ran off down the street--Artemis was left to see him around town; lucid and glaring past whatever sins he had wanted to be forgotten. Her attacker was too stupid to change his hairstyle, arrogantly tucked in low-setting dreads bound in a bun, stuck to fulfill tasks near a Rose-laced City Hall...Artemis was considered to be undeserving of the truth, forced to mend a spine injury as she wept--recalling the same sensations of mirroring pains that had been survived as a child being thrown across the room by her hair while walking away. Her nightmares triggered by the recent abuse; sleep stolen by a loser that took it upon himself to physically assault a literal stranger, albeit as a favor, for profit, or maybe just out of intoxicated desperation.

The tales of a single gossamer woman--living in a world that openly hated women, didn’t seem to be that unique in the grand scheme of things. Artemis took a shred of comfort in the memories of a vast man, walking far ahead...occasionally turning back to grab her hand in annoyance that it remained difficult to keep up to the distressed strides of a hasted athlete. No amount of suffering could make her visible to his selfishness, and yet--she had wanted to be the sun in Orion’s sky. She longed to relive moments where Orion would raise his hand to her face as he played a magical Lyre; sorting the lyrical playlists to say the things he couldn’t--stopping to brush away stray hairs that cradled what was left of her smile.

Artemis had been conditioned, abused into to believing she didn’t deserve love and the unending protection it offered when given to a worthy partner. Orion had once stood below her veil of woe with pride, as he sang sweet songs and bowed upon one knee and shamelessly coddled a fragile smile.

Artemis was broken with an undying worry for him, and utterly confused as to his absence in her upturned arms--why hadn’t she been enough for him? There was a compounding issue of all the things avoided--the many errands that piled upon her oak table, to message the longing for Orion on lonely nights. The notion of romantization of a person that never was--churned into annoyance with every aching breath. The perishing wish to scream in anguish--to burn the world to the ground in his absence caught her off guard; Artemis had forgotten that the depth of pain he had caused on his slutty campaign of drunken desperation.

Artemis had manifested a warpath upon meeting Orion--veering off to seek solace, choosing to spin a web of gold; to harness golden eggs that rolled out of control until a slew of men set them on ribbons...needing to lasso whatever desires they considered deserving. She found herself missing games and spontaneous adventures--a simulation of truths had kept a dollop of humanism to bear crest on each egg dangling low. The distrust of the public grew; women wearing sundresses as they dragged their "current lover" to public parks...hoping to parade themselves in front of an army of men while Artemis played outside. She held tucked passive smiles--toothless and bored as she tossed a leather sphere in tax-funded parks alone; it had taken all day to muster the courage to leave an urban home whilst a physically abusive stranger ran rampant and free--Artemis was forced to glare as men considered her intelligence to be sub-par of theirs when they tossed and turned hands openly. Globs of men would whisper and gossip like a gaggle of nosy bitches--cheeky, and above the rules of a double-blind experiment....giddy to stack clubbed hands above one another; to mock the very, very few rules of a game Artemis claimed to be unaware of. Selfish vanity superseded direction...when dull citizens took it upon themselves to force one’s way onto set without being cast, their selfishness made the soreness of a physical assault feel so much more personal. They were nothing in a sea of trash...the specks of useless waste washing ashore to an island of unprotected desperation.

The gesture was useless, Artemis already knew an unknown husband had yet to step-up past layers of illusions and challenges to meet her--they had the rest of eternity for her to be upset by his absence. The cheating code that cracked a simulation was meant to cause glitches of great suffering upon the masses--because obsess and lazy citizens had found it funny to take the personal responsibility in ruining an experiment with pudgy hands instead of doing things to improve upon themselves, I guess. Artemis had said "bet." Trapping the losers into roles in a past, forced to suffer for their sins in demarcating science in a story that wasn’t theirs to tell. She had made the gesture to pin-point the arrival of a JackBam--the only two people on the planet that understood the value in such light-hearted teasing. She sought them out in dreams to revive a friendship that strung past centuries, recalling shared laughter when the two resorted to song and dance in order to break her sullen moods without saying Pretty Please. They had wanted to counteract sundry insults cast by a petty leader and a snarling friend and allowing themselves to take pride in the banter and dance that rejuvenated her exhausting smile.

Artemis crash landed into a dream; turning slowly in the entry of a stone-lidded cave and being asked by a massive sphinx a tricky question, as to what was the strongest powers known to man. A eureka moment fell past cautious steps--with her pipping up to throw out the single word "friendship!", cheerfully and turning with embarrassment to hear six men snickering at how gay such a response was...and one unwilling participant glaring in disbelief...that he had forced himself into the equation by affiliation to the six crew members that stood bravely behind her. The nickname of sunshine was over shadowed by his judgemental talents and disconsolate moods that forever directed at Artemis, for whatever fucking reason. It had been a well-deserved talent--to tell when someone just woke up and decided to paint her as the enemy...Athena had been her sibling, after all. To be impartial to the Goddess of conflict; meant stray judgements and unwise advice were "gifts"--meant to ground Artemis’s blind belief in the goodness of people from time-to-time...the only looping-hole to that assumptions sifting upward to be openly present in an equally unwell persons, and occasionally burrowing concern to whatever threat loomed past the charade of an untrustworthy smile.

Artemis awoke from the taxing dream--unsure if the mythical creature was appeased by heart-filled antics and the seven dancing men arguing amongst themselves beneath a monument draped in sands--probably just to witness an open-ended argument between Artemis and a motherly leader, one tagging along...with the hopes to witness her failures for sport, or to wedge in sundry insults; his closet too tight and dark for a single ray of sunshine to be allowed in without approval. The seven were cursed to lives unwed; due to the overbearing ridicules of one man: Artemis noticing that he refused to look upon an encouraging face...resorting to stare at his hairline in rebuke. She was back in a hollow dormitory--attempting to block out the sounds of peers wandering their way to mismanaged cafeteria. The obligation to be date-night ready on a day of competition was a small feat for a woman attempting to provide context to a blossoming relationship. Being pretty enough for Orion, was the least she could do in the efforts to unsour his many, many, moods. Artemis still looked back fondly on the memories cheering for Orion, as he attempted to care about others for a whole hour at a time--his earned victories left her blushing with charitable disbelief to be at his side in moments where an array of athletic talents were known to the public. She was left wondering is silence, as to why he avoided looking at the distractions willingly provided as Artemis proudly applauded him with bouncing thrills and a beaming smile.

Artemis would recall moments of an aching heart racing--locked-in to the shy thoughts of Orion’s kisses and a 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--according to his loser athletic coach. Orion was meager when it came to worrying about outward opinions; resorting to the tact of being neglectful in presence, whenever he was upset with her beyond words. Both parties were left feeling guilt: knowing that they were far-too-good for the other in whatever ways that meant...both unwilling to admit that they were a force to be reckoned with whenever they were on the same page. Instead of stepping-up to the plate and claiming an official title of girlfriend, Artemis had sighed in disbelief to his hollow words...plucking away at Federal contracts...needing to make a pathetic life better for herself, and hiding behind a sad smile.

Orion lived in the fear of saying the wrong things to her--claiming a female friend had pointed out the depth of sensitivity that came from an intellect on a mission to change the world. The misguided intent of a woman with boundary issues triggered her sensitive heart--Artemis lived in the fear of what excuses she’d be forced to give him: having heard verbal accounts where she reminisced moments astride Orion to unwilling crowds, and leaving only the option to skirt their lecherous friendship altogether. He seemed entirely indifferent to an invisible door closing in his face gently--despite the warnings, the concerns drafted to point out a bed overflowing with three people...Orion took more value in outward appearances than her comfort and safety, and so Artemis formed a strategy of exit--neatly packing up the sadness of a woman with curved spine and woeful seasons; removing a tag before flight and saying hello to a nice-enough guy named Charlie and passing on a hello to his mother with a king smile.

Artemis had survived too much bullshit to not side-step obvious disrespect...she got that for free whenever offering aid to a niece named Mama Bear, as the bratty child returned to living a stressful life walking to and from Athena’s home. The girl had ran away from her awful mothering skills and escaped to a boys house: where a kind-enough family opened their house 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 the bright light warming the land wherever she walked; crops withering away without Jasmin’s bright smile.

The long-haired beauty listened to Artemis--most days. She often hid silent tears from Athena and compared a current lover to the unending, but already ended love of Artemis and Orion. A lonely auntie had found a friend in the young girl, and allowed Mama Bear to see the flaws gifted to an hourly laborer...to find room to relish in the plethora of missteps taken as a distraught and lost woman figuring the world out alone. Artemis knew the selfish child could care-less, as to the efforts allotted when attempting to rearrange her life following an physically traumatic accident. Artemis was left crawling upon the dirty floor; robbed of dreams visiting the stars, and denied the ability to fly above the clouds in a sky-boat. She remained offended that the world had even leaned into such ambitions for the sake of a newly-formed brand of empathy, and swallowed words of encouragement instantaneously; there was nothing left to cash in on without pilled accomplishments...the world had finally toppled her unmovable smile.

Mama Bear had been her greatest accomplishment, and Artemis loved the need she felt to protect Athena’s child at all costs. Life had been cast unfair to the first daughter of a narcissistic parent, and Artemis couldn’t be the one to piece the issues together for her--it meant more to retreat with knowledge, and wait for the inevitable to occur when a niece tilled the soils of information for answers. Artemis relied on the fact that fate was finicky but somehow unavoidable. Together; they had survived the worst winter in Artemis’s life...the cherished moments had inspired her write a book--unaware of the devastation it’d hold when witnessing the fall of Athens. She had only wanted to what was best for a child without parents, and instead of being prepared--Artemis had selfishly pushed Mama Bear aside; to mourn the inevitable loss of Athena’s smile.

Artemis missed a snickering niece; plotting and researching invisible men in piqued interest of what pulled an aunties attention whenever it was decided she were dull, and square. "Happy Birthday, baby"--Artemis kissed a plushie gently; its blue tale and friendly smile a true totem to the mistakes left unforgotten when an army of men had made a coastline rain blubber and blood one whole time, and the world had decided it defined all that was the birthplace of both Artemis and Mama Bear. The stupid fable was underlined by the absence of women, scientists, and women scientists--the plucky tale, a tribute to the greatness of male-leadership in every aspect. The young woman had nudged a sleepy giant..giggling at an auntie as she sighed and rolled scientist eyes, recounting how little the world cared in moments where common sense was needed. A nagging auntie was easily off-put by her niece’s claim to bravery...causally guiding Orion to seek her open door once more with meddlesome delight. The door had always been open for Orion to step through; Artemis had only stopped offering the empty frame attention in the pursuit of happiness, whatever that fucking means. Artemis started to remember all the memories lost in shallow listless dreams, and stepped hesitatingly towards the man she had once loved, as she tilted her head to the right gently in curiosity. Maybe she had simply imagined it all--there was no proof to the contrary. Artemis survived each day of endless sorrow by daydreaming of the courageous act in leaning forward, and kissing him--stepping through a door of the past and opening afraid eyes; just in time to see Orion try and hide a blushing smile.

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