His hands are gentle at the base of the tree. It's a ritual, one he's passed the long years doing. Always on the same day. Always at this tree. He glances up through the branches and smiles, sharing a private joke with the leaves. Persephone's a lot better at this than he, feeling nature through her. Though with this one he does alright. He stays about an hour, unsure what exactly he's waiting for; that she will come back in flesh that had been nothing but wood for millennia, or that she will love him if she does. He shrugs away the thoughts and glares up directly at the sun. It's about time for sunset.

He revels in the world, how the humans have changed. They've gotten so many things wrong, but when he hears the beauty in the sounds that ring through the radio or the art decorating the street, he can't say they are complete failures, these little experiments of his father's. He roams at night, breathing in the creations all around him. It's freedom unlike any other. There's no rigidity. No one telling you that what you're doing isn't beautiful. No one telling you it's wrong. He shivers at that thought, though the entire motion is comical. He is so much more than the young man with the devilish smile and burnt gold and browned tresses. He can't shiver, because he can't feel cold. He's been walking this Earth longer than some species. Though there's something in this cool air that does chill him, something about tonight that makes him forget that he's a god.

Dionysus's bar is over on 5th. It's an edgy little place, where the weak don't last, and the strong still wind up on the floor with splintering headaches that start when he brings the sun up in the morning. He needs it tonight, so he greets his brother with his eyes, and soon D's brought a bottle of the strong stuff, and they're sitting on the floor trading swings. "You come here too often." Dionysus says. They're not too far gone that they're laughing and trying things they haven't done since the ancient days. "Why's that?" He's quick to steal the bottle back. "I don't know, I just never thought golden Apollo, 'noble and lovely, armed with arrows dread' would ever be reduced to drinking with little old me." He stiffens at the quote. "You know ego never helped me then when they wrote those verses for me." The bottle grows a little heavier in his hands. "It certainly won't help me now." The red poison burns as it falls down his throat this time, completely soured. "It's not like they ever could get much right." Dionysus said stealing the bottle back, "I mean look at this." He twists the bottle in his hand, "They think this was my greatest gift because it made them buzz for a few hours, but this, no, this is more than that. This can make you happy or sad, powerful or weak, and on rare occasion it can give you courage." There's a strange look on his brother's face. It's familiar though, he used to see it on his face, like a permanent scar when he was young. The way Dionysus looks right now, thoughtful, he can ignore all the ways they don't match and see the ways they do. "You know brother, you can actually be wise." He laughs and hands him the bottle, scrambling to his feet. His bartender needs to be relieved and based on the hour, Apollo can guess no other replacement is coming. Dionysus puts a finger to his lips. "Don't tell Athena." That does it for him, he laughs, and it feels heavenly to let something out. He lingers in the back alone for a moment longer before he rejoins the world at the front. The bottle's not quite done, but for the night he is. He walks slowly to the bar to give it back to his brother to save for another night, when his eyes drift to the girl leaning on the counter nursing a drink in her right hand. The bronzed skin, the curls tumbling down her back, she looks almost the same. Not the girl he mourned by the tree, but the girl he mourned after he gave her a curse like a gift and turned a blind eye as she suffered, watching her nightmares play out before her eyes. This one's eyes are different though, bright green and playfully eyeing him. She's caught him staring. "You remind me of someone." He says softly. "Someone good?" she says coyly with a small smile that he finds oddly cruel on her lips. "No." He says clutching the neck of the bottle. On second thought, he may need to finish the rest of this. "But don't worry, you'll live a long and full life. You won't turn out like her." They're filled with conviction, and he can sense her belief in him. She should. He's never wrong, not about these things anyway.

He drinks all night and into the day right before his first shift at the hospital in the morning. The other doctors adore him, and the nurses rave about him. Once upon a time, he would have been gleeful at their praise. Now, all he wants is to go from room to room and just do the work that comes so easily to his hands like the words of a song do to his mouth. He can't save them all. He doesn't want too. Some are ready to leave, keeping them here to suffer is a cruelty he can't stomach. He gets them comfortable, those select few, and he heals the one's who still have more to give to this life. He can feel close to him like this, his son; the one who left him behind eons ago. It's a comfort that he can still find relaxation in the routine in it all. Gods know, he doesn't find it in anything else.

When his shift is over and he's set the sun, he stumbles back to the apartment. The door's unlocked, and he isn't the least bit surprised. She's huddled on the couch, hair loose at the top of her head, clutching a mug in her hand. This apartment is really theirs, though neither is here on a set basis. They drift in and out, but they can't stay apart for too long. Whatever they are chasing on the outside doesn't compare to the pull they have toward one another. "Rough day?" "Rough few centuries." he says collapsing beside her, taking the mug easily from her hand. She scowls but doesn't protest. "I have a feeling we're going to need something stronger than tea." The smirk comes easy to his face. "I have a bottle from Dionysus's in the pantry." They sit out on the balcony watching the stars. They have a few sips here and there but not much. It's really only there as a crutch, a bit of courage so that they can talk about the things that still haunt them. Her eyes drift to a familiar cluster. She notices him staring and smiles slightly. "Thousands of years and I can still miss him as though I lost him just the day before." The apology is on his tongue. He wants so badly to say them, though he can't. They aren't purely true, and he can't lie to her. He's never been able to. Artemis stares at him expectedly, sensing his inner turmoil. He wants to apologize for the hurt he caused her. He couldn't give a damn about the hunter, but her pain had been boundless. It was selfish for him, but he would do it again, not just because of his jealousy, but for the pain he saw that their life would be together. A broken heart was nothing compared to that. "You loved him enough to break your vows." he murmured. She snorts, tilting her hair back to bask in the moonlight. "Vows." she mocks, "How foolish we were in our arrogance. Who were we in all our power to believe that people cannot change their minds?" He's silent. There's no counter argument that comes quick to him. He knows that there are days that they will regret their pasts, even she, in her convictions, can regret her vows. Though deep down, they cannot fool themselves that their actions were merely driven by fanciful youth. They believed in what they were doing, they believed that they, golden skinned and silver blood, knew best. Their power their downfall.

"It's better for us this way, living with the people instead of being worshiped. It's humbling, reminding us exactly of our place and who we are." She finally speaks, leaning her head on his arm.

"I don't need the reminder." he shuts his eyes. He needs no one to remember who he is. Every face is proof that while every one of them is torn from him, he will always remain. He will never die like them. He is immortal. He opens his eyes to meet her gaze, her greyed eyes soft as she tightened her arms around his. "You mourn them don't you?"

He shifted uncomfortably. She'd always disapproved of how easily he'd fallen in love. She couldn't understand what it was for him. It was hard not to see straight into another and not fall deeply for the soul that dwelled within. "I regret the paths I put them on."

"Not her." Artemis spat. She doesn't need to say her name for him to know which girl she has in mind. "I saw someone who looked exactly like her." he mused, "Cassandra." He licks his lips tasting her name for the first time this century. Artemis scowls. "She deserves her punishment for that betrayal, thinking that she could outsmart a god. She could have been more." He freezes at the end. "You mean I would have made her immortal." Artemis gives him a look, clever silver sister. She merely nods. "She hurt you the most I think." He shrugs. Perhaps Dionysus's bottle wasn't a good idea afterall. He glances up at her moon, trying to lose himself in the heavens. His sister won't let it rest. She's taken up psychology and all other sorts of human therapy as a means of healing. She usually uses it to help the ones she saves, but on occasion she's tried her hand at trying to tackle their immortal family's problems. He almost wants to tell her she's doomed to fail, she may believe him, god of prophecy and all, but she knows he's turned a blind eye to his gift.

"I always wanted to know." she mused running a hand through her silvered strands, "Why the trees or the flowers?"

He breathes, maybe he's safe for now.

He smiles slightly thinking of his tree by the river. "I thought that their time was not yet done. They deserved more, more life." She's silent, taken aback by his admission. Many have viewed him shallow, or what the modern world would call a fuckboy, but the characterization easily falls short. She eyes him, taking him up. Right now, he appears like they did when they were young on their island, a boy of 17 with too much atop his shoulders. Even then, he showed signs of his gifts. Prophecy was a heavy curse, one thrust too easily on her brother's shoulders. "Why did you do it?" her voice a whisper in the night, "Each time, surely you could see the ending heartbreak?" It's his saddest smile of the night when he replies, "You can close your mind to the things your heart doesn't want you to see." They pass the rest of the night in silence watching the stars.

Years can pass where he doesn't see another one of them. Hera once tried to conduct some semblance of an annual reunion, but the idea was quickly dropped. They were toxic around one another all together. Individually though, they'd pass by and part without that piece of the world falling into chaos. He only ever regularly sees Artemis and Dionysus, but when he sees the box of Converese's left on his doorstep that morning, he's warmed at the prospect of this reunion.

They meet at a corner bookshop with a cafe a step away, Hermes has his legs propped up on a table, laptop in hand, typing away as he works. He wonders if the owner will regret letting Hermes into his shop. There's at least a 90% chance that something has already gone missing. Hermes sees him, and he smiles. Apollo's lost for a moment in the green vibrance that are so clear from 3 feet away. He kicks his legs off the table, inviting Apollo to sit. "Long time Hermes." he said softly. He smiles slightly though there's a certain weariness in his face. "Been busy." he says shutting the laptop. "Cities don't sleep." "Neither do we." Hermes' retort comes quick. He laughs at the familiarity of his wit. It doesn't take them much to fall back into one another. They're back in his apartment in literally a second, with Hermes already tearing him apart.

When their hunger for one another is finally satisfied, they lay lazily in his messed bed, sheets casually thrown over one another. "What a mess we are?" Hermes says lazily, gazing beneath his long dark lashes. "Every decade at least once." He said clutching a pillow, "You fiend you've driven me mad." He playfully throws the pillow at him to no avail. Hermes is quick, quicker than he's ever been anyway. "We were already completely mad." he says settling into another corner of the bed. "Then time has only magnified it." Apollo replied tracing his nimble fingers over the tones muscles of Hermes's stomach. Hermes turns onto his side. "Do you ever think back to that time? How simple we viewed the world." Apollo falls silent. The past is an old companion and an old enemy. "We let petty discourse rule our actions." Hermes nodded in agreement. His breath comes slow, melodic. "Do you think we could have been happy?" Hermes asks then. Apollo can't help the thin smile that stretches across his face. "You mean if our father hadn't forced us apart?" Hermes nods. "Nothing good ever came from Zeus meddling in the affairs of lovers."

It's the truth, Zeus's hand in any affair was sure to lead to chaos and heartbreak. He can think of poor Aphrodite and Hephaestus and the terrible Ares affair. Though most of all, the story that truly haunts him isn't that of his siblings. He thinks to Hestia and Poseidon. Still eons later, he's glimpsed them meeting in secret. His heart had ached at the sight. He didn't know which caused him more despair; that love could be true and never acted upon or that it could be strong and never fade.

"The forbidden allure was what made it attractive." he teases, "If it had been allowed, who knows, maybe I'd never have loved you." Hermes rolls his eyes, the impish grin back on his face. "Please, you were a goner the moment you found out I stole those ridiculous cows." Apollo bit his tongue to keep from laughing. "Sacred cows." To his pleasure, it forces Hermes to first lose composure, laughing to the point that it leaves him gasping for breath like a mortal. "Damn." he murmurs when he catches his breath. Apollo shakes his head as the silence settles between them. "What are we doing Hermes?" he says after a while, "Nothing stops us now, yet we can never bring ourselves to stay this way." He turns to meet those green eyes and finds that the mirth has been subdued and replaced with wisdom. First Dionysus, now Hermes, when did they all become so wise? What had time done to them?

"We can't live the past in the present." he whispered in reply. He stands then tossing a shirt to him before finding his and slipping gracefully into it. The bed dips as he leans on the edge. "We part ways because we are all chasing the corners of this worn Earth searching for something we still can't find." Apollo finds himself nodding without meaning too. He finds his pants and pulls them on easily. "What do you suppose that is?"

"The god of prophecy asking me a question? Don't you know?" Hermes teased. Apollo rolled his eyes. "Humor me." Hermes grows still, staring out the door to the balcony. The sun casts shadows on his face, but the portions in the light seem to glow, giving him an ethereal appearance. Of them all, Hermes was always the one with the more refined features. "Who knows; redemption, acceptance, hope," he pauses, "Connection with another."

"And if we don't find it?"

Hermes gives him a long look. "You find what you look for. I don't think you're actually looking, brother."

"I've been jaded too many times brother." he says eyes downcast.

"And you let the past control your future, ironic for a god of foresight."

"And what else would you expect?" Apollo snaps, "My boastings sealed Daphne's fate to one of a tree, Hyacinth dead, Cyparissus dead, Marpessa, Chione, dead, dead, or rejected."

"Cassandra." Hermes taunts, "The one who said she loved you only to take your gift and with it fashioning her own demise."

The lights in the room flicker as Apollo's temper threatens to overtake him. Hermes's expression softens. "They knew what it meant to love a god, can you blame the ones who chose a simpler fate?" Apollo is silent. Hermes moves to sit beside him, close so that their shoulders brush one another. "They knew the risk. It's the risk that gave it worth."

Apollo clears his throat, barely trusting his voice. "And what now then?" His face shines with a secret. "Well." Hermes said finding his shoes. "You tell me." Apollo sighs leaning back into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, Hermes is gone.

He opens the door and walks into the dim lit bar. He feels his brother's eyes, but he shakes his head. He's had more than enough of Dionysus's special poison. He'll stick to the mortal drinks for tonight. He glances around and spots her, the same girl. Now, with his mind not so muddled with alcohol, he can pick out the differences. Not identical but similar, though he catches a bit of her spirit, so different from the woman he knew. He approaches the bar. She's startled at the sound of the stool beside her scratching against the tiled floor. "Oh it's just you again." she says before returning to her drink. "Just me." he agrees though, there's a smile clung to his face. She eyes him, before her face mirrors his. "So changed your mind about me yet?" He shrugs before ordering a drink. "Let's find out."

She grins, sipping the drink in her hand. She leans over and whispers in his ear. "I know who you are." He stiffens and pulls away, eyes desperately scanning her face for a sign, but there's nothing; no fear, no indication that she harbors less than virtuous intentions, nothing, only curiosity. Maybe this is a chance. "You know my name." She grins. "So let me know the rest."

He takes his own drink swinging it back, hoping it may give him some courage for this. "We'll need a lifetime."

"So start with tonight."

It's not a promise. It's not a declaration of eternal love. Though he feels slightly intrigued at the prospect. Maybe this is hope. "It's at your own risk." he warns, it's her last chance, and she knows it

"Believe me I know."

His grin widens, and this time, he's the one whispering in her ear. "Good."