¹POCKET FULL OF POSIES. p. jackson

𝐕. torched third meeting

pocket full of posies
❛ v. torched third meeting ❜

━━━━━ BEFORE ARTEMIS COULD leave, Posie managed to ask; "My—My hand. I hurt it somehow while fighting Dr. Thorn, but ... it hasn't healed. And I've eaten ambrosia, so it should've healed. But ... well, look."

              She held out her hand to Artemis, turning it over so her palm faced upward. The burn mark hadn't healed at all, and if anything, it looked worse. It was red, raised, and irritated. Posie could practically feel blood pooling in the raised wound.

              "Yes ..." The goddess licked her lips. "You need to be more careful, Posie."

              Her brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

              Artemis answered Posie with a question of her own; "Have you been training?"

              "You mean, like ... Camp training? Well, yeah. It's mandated. I couldn't get out of it if I tried."

              "That's not what I meant, Posie," said Artemis. "I meant ..." She raised her eyebrows. "Do you want to say it, or do you want me to say it?"

              "You mean, the gift of foresight?" asked Posie. "Foresight doesn't give me burn marks."

              "Indeed, it doesn't," agreed the goddess. "But ... the other gift."

              Posie's hand dropped, and her stomach dropped. "... You know?"

              "Of course I do," she admitted. "Apollo's my twin. My other—insufferable—half. He already has a blabbermouth, but he tells me everything. Don't you have someone like that? Someone you can tell everything to, and they can tell you anything?"

              Posie frowned. In all honesty, no. The closest she had to that was Onesimus—and one; he knew everything about her, but she knew nothing about him, and two; he wasn't around anymore. Even if Onesimus wanted to tell Posie anything about himself, he wasn't around to do it anymore.

              "So ..." her voice wavered; she hated this topic, "what does ... that have to do with this burn mark?"

              Artemis pursed her lips. "And I know Apollo hasn't been helping you. He doesn't like that part of himself. Tries to ignore it."

              "So he ignores me." Posie didn't mean to sound so bitter, but it was the truth. Apollo doesn't like saying he can control plagues, so he acts like he doesn't. But when one of his kids comes down with the same curse, Apollo—in his mind—is left with no other choice to but ignore that cursed kid.

              Artemis bowed her head like she felt shame for her twin. "... Yes, Posie. And I'm sorry. Apollo has always found more comfort in running from his problems."

              For a moment, Posie considered spilling everything to Artemis—Onesimus, Hades, the Underworld, the training, even how Hades swore on the River Styx. But her voice got caught in her throat. If she did that, Hades would never trust her, and it's not even like he trusts her now. She couldn't risk that, especially when Hades was the only one helping her. Posie needed to understand, especially before the confusion consumed her. It was horrible to have a twelve-year-old goddess look at her with pity, so Posie cleared her throat and asked, "So what do you mean this burn mark has anything to do with that curse?"

              Artemis's finger trailed along her bowstring. "There's more you should know, Posie—the sickness you can create, it doesn't heal. Ever. Everyone is vulnerable to it, and you are ... even more so."