Wandering
Justice was homeless.
To someone, somewhere, there was surely something poetic about that. Dike, however, now more acclimatized to having a body, was no where close to appreciating certain subtle humors.
She wandered the temples, the cobbled streets, the Egyptian mazes of sand and sandstone and lapis lazulinus, treed paths of green with water scents and had sternly avoided the shadow places. There was something, not quite right about them. The world went a little out of focus.
She was sure there was something she was forgetting about them. But she didn't have a clue.
Strife's home was.... somewhere in a direction she wasn't sure about. But she wasn't sure she wanted to go back either. The god had left rather suddenly the minute she pointed out he was lying. She wasn't sure how hospitality played to being made uncomfortable with relatives.
She was pretty sure they were related. He was Greek and he'd called Ares Uncle. Which no doubt made her his aunt or half aunt. The family tree looped, twirled and branched in and out like the curls of her hair.
For now, she sat some place green, arms wrapped around her legs and watched the shadow chase between Apollo's light and the spaces the daytime found to avoid it.
To someone, somewhere, there was surely something poetic about that. Dike, however, now more acclimatized to having a body, was no where close to appreciating certain subtle humors.
She wandered the temples, the cobbled streets, the Egyptian mazes of sand and sandstone and lapis lazulinus, treed paths of green with water scents and had sternly avoided the shadow places. There was something, not quite right about them. The world went a little out of focus.
She was sure there was something she was forgetting about them. But she didn't have a clue.
Strife's home was.... somewhere in a direction she wasn't sure about. But she wasn't sure she wanted to go back either. The god had left rather suddenly the minute she pointed out he was lying. She wasn't sure how hospitality played to being made uncomfortable with relatives.
She was pretty sure they were related. He was Greek and he'd called Ares Uncle. Which no doubt made her his aunt or half aunt. The family tree looped, twirled and branched in and out like the curls of her hair.
For now, she sat some place green, arms wrapped around her legs and watched the shadow chase between Apollo's light and the spaces the daytime found to avoid it.