Jan 26, 2016
@floweredsorrow
Apollon plucked at the strings of this new instrument- the lyre. He smiled. He wasn’t sure if he cared for this new wily little son of his father’s but THIS- he plucked at the strings some more. This he could get used too.
If the wee bastard was capable of making more instruments such as these, Apollon would give him whole seas of cattle.
a discordant note
Apollon frowned and stopped his playing to examine the strings- As least that had been his intent. Instead he was distracted by a face, passing through the trees. A boy’s face, as fair as music. He was hunting perhaps, or in some other youthful pursuit. Such beauty was enough to make the god rise and try to follow.
‘Where are you going pretty one?’
