open: all harmony of instrument or verse, all prophecy, all medicine, is mine. 1

[papadopoulos]

Poetry is great.
You don't have to take my word,
try it for yourself!
___________________________

Somewhat unexpectedly, Apollo is indoors. It’s been some time since he’s had the time or energy to dive into poetry and books: though Tyson and his harpy² girlfriend did run a bookshop at Camp Jupiter; Apollo had had no time to look in on things in the midst of battle and trying not to turn into a zombie. He is taking some time today to appreciate the quiet of the library; immersed in any and every kind of poetry he can get his hands on. There are books of sonnets piled about him, Dante’s Inferno, some of Byron’s works, and a collection of Oscar Wilde’s poems. He has even managed to find some examples of Chinese poetry, and is sprawled out across a couch dressed for the beach, but looking as content as a cat who’s gotten into cream and like he's quite happy to stay inside all day.

It feels like it’s been an age since he’s properly gotten to dive into the written word as much as he likes to; and he is more than willing to take advantage of this peace and quiet.


¹Actually, he hates terza rima, but this poem is about him so it will do.
²Complimentary.

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[papadopoulos]

"I don't know who Leviticus is," he says lazily. "But I can tell you my uncle sure didn't like it when Asclepius raised a man from the dead. Too much paperwork, I think, is the general gist I got."

[wickedwit]

"Oh, I'm never put off by paperwork," Claudius says, with the devil-may-care tone of a warrior who's seen too many battles to be frightened. "It's a shame there's no common law court with gods. If I could represent Asclepius as a lawyer or mediator, we could have sorted out a settlement ... I'm also not above bribing judges, admittedly. Who did Asclepius resurrect?"

[papadopoulos]

"I mean, we do have Athena," he says, grinning a little. "I don't think she'd accept a bribe, though. Asclepius--" His voice turns fond here, if a little sad. He does love his son, it's just they're both so busy that even with being gods it's difficult to see each other. "He was --is the best healer I've ever met. Even better than me. Anyway, one day my sister asked him to resurrect one of her hunters, a guy named Hippolytos. Then my father punished Asclepius by striking him down with a thunderbolt."

[wickedwit]

"Ah." Claudius raises an eyebrow. "Well, that does sound more or less typical of men with too much power. My father also has a tendency to dole out harsh punishments for well-meaning missteps, and my brother continued the tradition. My condolences," he adds, more gently. He'd already gathered from Dionysus that Zeus was less than an ideal parent, or grandparent. It's worse for the immortals, he thinks -- unlike mortals with dynastic-minded parents, Apollo and Dionysus can't simply wait for Zeus to die off.

[papadopoulos]

He shrugs slightly. "I wasn't about to let him get away with sending one of my favorite kids to Hades. ...Bear in mind this was a long time ago, please, I'm much less...angry now.¹ I, um, killed one of his cyclopes -- you know, the one-eyed monsters? -- They make his lightning bolts. Of course, I got punished for that as well; suspended and turned mortal for a year and serving a king, but I guess it turned out okay. My father brought the cyclopes back, along with Asclepius, and made him a god in the end."


¹Usually. Generally he's fine if his ex-boyfriend or any Roman emperor isn't around.

[wickedwit]

“Guilted into it, no doubt. Powerful men like your father tend to throw tantrums, regret the consequences of their actions, and only come around after a year or so to start the whole cycle over again. They’ll say the punishment was to teach you a lesson, but really they’re waiting out the term of their anger.” Claudius has a great deal of bitter thoughts on the subject. But then he turns an appreciative gaze to Apollo, smirks, and says, “I do respect thy effort, at least. I admire a man who can undercut his enemies effectively. Take out the source of his lightning bolts, ans the rest of his divine powers, and he’d just be an old man throwing a tantrum — I hope you aren’t offended to hear that about your father,” he adds, though there’s a sardonic twist to his tone that suggests he wouldn’t be that sorry.

[papadopoulos]

"Definitely not. If you hadn't noticed, he's not exactly my, uh, favorite parent. I keep as far away from him as I can, these days. I don't want to give him that satisfaction of me being back." It's best for his sanity, in this case.

[wickedwit]

"It's the best one can do when one's parents are immortal," Claudius sighs, as though he knows all about it. He knows enough to imagine, and to offer something of his own experience. "My father," he says, "died when I was young. I mourned him the way you would any distant public figure, when you feel nothing but know some feeling is expected from you, because that's all he'd ever been to me. All I know is he trained my elder brother into his ideal successor, which doesn't speak to his credit. That's how mortals try to make an immortal legacy, by raising successors. The farther you are from Zeus, the better off you'll be, in my opinion. Congratulations."

[papadopoulos]

He laughs, but it is unamused. "Thanks. You know, when I was mortal, they were betting on me, seeing if I would live or die? What a great extended family I have, huh?" He falls silent for a moment, flipping a page in his book. "At least Artemis wasn't with them, but she was forbidden from helping me."

[wickedwit]

"Artemis -- thy twin?" he asks, remembering that much of mythology.

[papadopoulos]

"Yeah. Older twin," he replies with a fond smile. "She's the goddess of the hunt, the moon, lots of things. Has a whole pack of hunters that follows her around."

[wickedwit]

"Yes, she's still quite popular among maidens who wish to remain maidenly. Queer women," Claudius clarifies, since he has that word in his vocabulary.

[papadopoulos]

“I mean, they might be queer, fair enough,” he shrugs. “But Artemis’ thing is more sworn to be celibate than anything else. I’ve got a couple friends back home that used to be hunters of hers, Emmie and Jo —but when they wanted to be together, like in a relationship; she let them leave. They gave up their immortality to be together. Got a cute kid too.”

[wickedwit]

"To be sure, I don't imagine any of my cohort back home were sincere worshipers of Artemis. It's simply how women who love other women find each other." But he smiles at the story. Sober in a priest in the middle of the day, he still loves love every bit as much as he told Tally at the bachelor party. "As thy friends Jo and Emmie found each other. Giving up the immortal hunt to have a cute little family -- how terribly romantic. Art thou a romantic, Apollo?"

[papadopoulos]

He can't help but laugh, and it is again more charming than it has any right to be, though a little sadder than he's willing to admit. "I'm the god of poetry, what do you think?" Apollo leans back against his couch again, sprawl still inviting as ever, thoughtlessly attractive but somewhat subdued now.

"..Yeah. I guess I am," he continues, quiet. "Not to say that I get along well with my sister; in fact I think she gets great pleasure out of fucking my life up, but ...I'm a sucker for a pretty face."

[wickedwit]

Claudius laughs, feeling fond of Apollo in his openness, teasing, "I think a half of poetry must be written for that reason. In praise of a pretty face. Are there any faces thou hast noticed since coming to this place?"

[papadopoulos]

"Well, of course. Aleksander, for one." He smiles fondly. "Susan's not bad either; but she didn't seem particularly interested. And some others, but --" There's a shrug. "I didn't exactly start off on the best foot with them."

[wickedwit]

“That's no problem. A little initial conflict creates tension, and leads to negotiation — romances that start smoothly won’t always stay so. If you've disagreements from the start, you learn how to resolve them." Or keep arguing until you've driven each other away completely, but Claudius doesn't have to say that. "Who are you thinking of?"

[papadopoulos]

"Oh, it's not even romance-wise, though he is good-looking. I just..ah..was talking about my children with him and we sort of got into an argument a few days ago. I think it was mostly things came out wrong on my part."

[wickedwit]

“Even the god of poetry can express himself poorly, it seems,” Claudius observes, sympathetic in his tone and gaze. “What was the point of contention? Did you tell him about Shakespeare?” It’s quite reasonable to argue over Shakespeare.

[papadopoulos]

He laughs, but it's quickly aborted, and shakes his head. "Could have been the fact that I don't quite remember how many I have?" he replies, looking about as sheepish as a golden retriever who knows he's done something wrong. "Or that I got defensive when he tried to press me for more information about how gods treat their kids in my world."

[wickedwit]

“One of my dearest friends in Denmark didn’t know how many children he had,” Claudius says, quite matter-of-factly. “He was a philanderer and a drunkard, of course. Someone with predictable, manipulable vices, which perhaps wasn’t the strongest basis for a friendship. Old friends aside,” with a wave of his hand to dismiss them, “defending the ways of one’s world is always a tricky proposition. Rarely does it resolve the heart of a dispute, but it gives good context. How do gods treat their children in your world?”

[papadopoulos]

"Not great." He sighs. "If you've talked at all to Magnus, you've probably heard a lot about it. I mean, his dad is Norse, but it's --similar to what we Greeks do as well. With less practicing for Valhalla, I guess."

[wickedwit]

“Oh, Valhalla is bad enough,” Claudius says, with a light roll of eyes. “My ancestors’ idea of what the reward for a life well-lived should be. Generations always disagree on these things. But I suppose Greeks are similiar, and place the same emphasis on proving one’s worth through quests and combat and otherwise needlessly risking one’s life. We all have a pronounced streak of self-martyrdom in our cultures, don’t we?”

[papadopoulos]

He shrugs. "My father--he's all about that kind of stuff. Proving you're worthy, being perfect, being good enough -- not upsetting his perfect little world. He's used to getting his way. I..." There's a pause, and Apollo sighs; thinking of Jason, of Piper, of Leo and Calypso, every one of his friends who have been forced to fight and honor the gods to prove their worth.

"..It's not worth it, in my opinion," he says finally, quietly. "Our kids don't deserve that, just because they're different from most mortals."