Imagine Loving A Mortal (Chapter I) A story based on Greek mythology!! Featuring Ares :p)
(NOT A PR0MPT)
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Maybe flowers weren’t the proper way to summon a god- rather, the god of war. But Phoibe figured if she could do anything at all to gather Ares’ attention, in a peaceful way, then maybe it would be to grow a field of red flowers.
Her friend Rhode was happy to supply the flowers. Of course, she didn’t know what Phoibe’s intention was with them, but with a name literally meaning ‘Rose,’ who could pass up a field of them? And Phoibe’s fields were so vast; they looked like oceans of flowers.
The flowers wilted every year for two years straight now. It was annoying to say the least, but it wasn’t anything Phoibe could help. Maybe the wilt would attract Ares just the same.
“You know there is no point in schooling if you are going to teach yourself everything anyways, right?” Phoibe dragged a finger against a rubbery petal, drawing the morning dew onto the calloused pad of her finger before bringing it to her tongue. She squinted as her dark locks fell into her face, but tucked it back, going for another dewdrop.
Morning tasted sweet.
Poetry tasted like clay- and Phoibe would know. Her grandmother had to rush after her childish-self years ago for sticking her thumbs in the clay pits. “I mean, what could Aristotle ever teach you if you steal his books already?”
“Don’t say that aloud,” Zinaida scolded with a quiet voice- despite no one being near, and promptly thwapped her friend on the shoulder with her stolen book. “I want to look impressive. Alexander keeps showing up to Lyceum lectures. Know-it-all speaks up over everyone.”
Phoibe mockingly stuck her lower lip out but moved along. “Alexander has private tutoring in Macedonia, no?”
Zinaida rolled her eyes. “He does, and yet he still shows everyone up, all because Aristotle finally granted Alexander his stupid wish. Wanted to see Athens. Poseidon, water his lungs.” She muttered this last part. Still, Phoibe heard and threw a lazy hand into her friend’s chest. “He annoys me, okay? I don’t mean that Poseidon should actually drown him- only consider it. Speaking of the gods, though…any luck with your fiend?”
“None. Well, actually,” Phoibe corrected, “Rhode did tell me the other day that she has had a stray dog roaming around at night.”
Stifling a groan, Zinaida tucked a piece of bright blonde hair behind her ear and commented, “Reckon that could be a sign, but why at Rhode’s?” Zinaida didn’t very much like the girl named Rose. She was too bubbly and kind for Zin’s company.
“Not sure. A field means nothing compared to a name, I suppose.”
“Best of luck, I guess.” Zinaida shrugged, eyes scanning her worn pages.
Best of luck, indeed.