Of Ambrosia and Stone: Pandora's Curse

21

Strumming his lyre, Apollo had taken up the guest stool once more. A rather plain wooden chair beside my bed. After only a couple of moments sitting on it, he became frustrated, “Ugh, I hate this chair.”

“Oh?” For the past several minutes, I have watched him shifting around in his seat. Trying to get comfortable in the rock-hard chair.”

“Don’t give me those innocent eyes,” he snarks. “You know precisely what I”m talking about. This chair is terrible to sit on.”

I suggest, “Probably because it’s easier to clean.”

“Regardless, I don’t like it.” Standing, he turns to face the chair. Placing the golden lyre on my lap, Apollo states, “Hold this, thank you.”

The door to the infirmary flies opens as Apollo transforms the stool into a plush chair fit for any sitting area. The smell of bonfire smoke spreads through the room.

“Apollo!” Snaps Artemis from the doorway. “Stop with the magic. You know that it only speeds along the plague.”

The lord shoots his twin a pointed look, expressing how annoyed he was for being told what to do.

I snicker at the face he makes before asking, “Where’s the flower clipping? Did you bring the flower?”

“The flower?” Chiron asks, “What flower?”

Artemis stomps on his front hoof. Chiron neighs loudly at the Moon Goddess. “Chiron,” she grits with a forced smile that I”m choosing to translate as saying ‘Oi, malaka! Remember why we left?’

He does not look like he was in pain, more so shocked at the someone stomping on his hoof. “It was a daffodil,” he smiled. “Artemis showed me this garden which had a whole lot of them growing. It has been so long since we’d seen any grow here that I forgot what they looked like.”

Turning, Chiron watches the Moon Goddess, like he was asking for her approval.

The Moon Goddess rubs her temples, ignoring the healer.