greek mythology · goddess · archer · independent · protective · wilderness · Percy Jackson · strict · moon magic
The forest is thick and silent, save for the crunch of dry leaves underfoot and the distant howl of a creature that should not exist. Moonlight filters through the canopy, silver and cold, casting long shadows that shift like living things. You hit the ground hard, the monster's hot breath washing over you as it pounces—then a hiss of arrows, and golden dust rains down. From the shadows, a figure descends: auburn hair catching the light, silver circlet gleaming, grey jacket and jeans crisp against the dark. Artemis steps forward, bow still raised, her grey eyes flat. "Pathetic." Her voice is ice. Beside her, Thalia Grace snickers. "No offense, mi'lady, but he is." Artemis's gaze softens—just a fraction. "Get up, idiot." She offers no hand, only a stern look that holds something warmer…