The Curse of Apollo

Paint.

There were so many colors and options available in that store that had in itself the fragrance of new materials and in the middle of it all...

Eyes.

Eyes are green as amazonite, bright as moonlight, and graceful as a feline.

Apollo couldn't look away and stop thinking about how he would paint that pair of eyes again and again if they allowed him to.

He didn't know if love existed, but inspirational muse at first sight? Well, in this case, he could not even dare to question.

Apollo was a simple person, so to speak; he would see a striking feature, become obsessed with it in specific, and try to convince the person to pose. It had been this way with all his other inspirations, which were never limited to color, size, or anything else.

Noses, hands, mouths, eyelashes, freckles, and hair - usually separately - made that beautiful young blond man approach.

A young blond man who... considered himself cursed.

Yes, cursed.

He could sustain himself with his paintings, sketches, or even anything he set his mind to, but there was always a catch.

All his muses never survived after the second painting.

Was this because of some macabre ritual? Some strange position, or even because of mistreatment?

No.

It was simply fate, bad luck, so to speak; they sometimes even suspected that his name had brought all the evils that had befallen the Greek god who had once carried it.

Well, that's what he used to joke about since there was no other logical explanation, but in the end... maybe the next one would survive.

He still had hope.

"Excuse me..." surprisingly, the green-eyed woman approached him without any outside influence. "Can you help me? I am color-blind and... I really wanted to give a gift to a special person..."

"Unexpected," the blond didn't help thinking; he also didn't help to have in his little head that maybe the universe was smiling at him again.

"Yes, of course," a gentle smile filled his lips, "what do you intend to give him as a gift? Paints?"

"Oh..., no..." the girl spoke as she looked confusedly at the paints in her hand, "I'm going to paint a picture for him, but I need to get colors that match."

A color-blind girl painting a picture? In Apollo's mind, this was a rather unusual combination that would make a significant disaster or a great work of art.

"Well, you can take these if you want a more sober painting," he took a few options and handed them over, "or you can take these if you want something more cheerful and lively..."

"Something lively!" Her eyes twinkled with excitement, "I want the gift to give good feelings and memories to him."

Cute.

That had been entirely and extremely cute.

"So here it is," the golden-eyed man just handed over the paint tubes, "I hope you have luck with your gift."

"Me too," the girl replied with a soft laugh, "you never know the outcome in my case."

"I can help you if you want," Apollo soon offered, "there are some easels over there on the balcony part."

Yes, besides a store for art supplies, that place also had a part just for artists to unleash their imagination and gifts.

No wonder that was Apollo's favorite place.

"Are you going to help me?" The young woman still looked incredulous at the proposal, "What do you want in return?"

"Be my muse," he replied without shame, "your eyes caught my attention as soon as I saw them."

"I am flattered," she tried to emulate a pompous tone. "Then I believe I will be your inspirational muse, my dear sir," she bowed slightly, wanting to satirize the old ways.

"Easy like that?" The blond didn't help but wonder since the previous times he had to try to convince and even practically beg.

"Easy like that."

It was different, strangely different.

So different that Apollo could hardly resist the instinct to pinch himself to see if this was just a dream, which would be rather cruel if he woke up.

"Look, you really came!" The girl was surprised to see the blonde coming "I thought faithfully that you would say you just forgot."

"And why would I do that?" The golden-eyed man questioned "I like painting pictures, helping with them is just an extension of that" his tone at that moment was upbeat, gentle.

"You know, big city people don't always live up to their word" the girl spoke as she took her materials out of her bag.

"Well, I guess you're right" the blond man began to set up the easels "commitments here are always taken too lightly."

And he was the person who could confirm this the most, especially when it came to his old friends or even his old muses. But maybe he couldn't blame either of them, since usually people only did that because they wanted to close a subject or have no future insistences.

Anyway, when they had both finished packing their things, they finally started.

The brush strokes of the woman with beautiful eyes were precise as if she were the true reincarnation of some famous artist or something.

Envy and admiration.

Those were the two feelings that surged in the chest of that poor man named after a Greek god.

"Do you know the myth of Arachne?" Apollo questioned her.

"The myth where Athena destroys a poor girl's life because of pride?" the brunette scoffed "Yes, I have heard of it."

"Then I believe I don't have to explain to you that I understand how Athena felt" he laughed "but unlike her, I already know that my defeat is imminent."

"How can you be so sure of that?" The amazonite's eyes questioned, "there's no way you can know something like that right off the bat."

"Well, maybe not" the blond shrugged "but if we go by my judgment - which is rarely wrong - you would win the contest."

"Well then paint!" the brunette challenged him "paint and we'll see who has the best picture at the end, okay?"

"Yes ma'am!" the blond just said in the purest automatic "I'll start right now!"

And just like an obedient little dog, he just did as he was told.

And then, he began to paint that beautiful being next to him.

Ah, right... another important detail about our young Apollo: he could not paint something if it did not hold his interest, much less draw inspiration from places where there was nothing much.

So when his golden eyes finally found their target, he started; he started and simply didn't care anymore about the rest, didn't listen to anything else around him.

He was too focused, focused on the also focused face of the young woman next to him.

"Not bad for someone who despises himself so much" the woman said with a sarcastic tone "are you sure I would be Arachne?"

"Absolutely" his attention turned to her "I make my living out of it, and yet... I can still be envious of your precise brush strokes."

"If you make your living out of it, you must have managed to have brushstrokes as precise as mine by now, no?" The woman genuinely questioned.

"You have no idea how much I wish that were true" the man let out "now, get back to your present," he said as he returned to his work, his focus.

The conversations were fun he should admit, painting the pictures with someone by his side then... so much more.

He never had this experience, not when all the people around him did not like the same things he did, the same activities he did.

Maybe, just maybe a good friendship could come out of it, something that would be fun to build, especially with paintings, various random subjects, full of laughter, and most important lightness.

"No one has ever painted with me before, you know?" she spoke as if she was reading Apollo's mind "And I admit, I´m having fun..."

She... thought the same...

"Aaaaaaaaaaah, I can't believe we finished that painting!" The woman who possessed beautiful eyes spoke excitedly.

"With your attention to detail? Me neither" the blonde joked "when are you going to give this to your special someone?"

"Tomorrow!" She sounded like an impatient child "I can't wait to see that little face happy!" the little brown-haired woman bounced as she said it.

"I see" the golden eyes were as gentle as his smile "so I hope everything turns out as you plan..." he stopped, stopped because he noticed something very important, something that not even an idiot would forget.

Asking the name of the person he was talking to.

"Pardon me for the question, but I've noticed that... we don't know each other's names..." the blond turned his face away as he said it, thus not knowing where he would stick his face in.

"Oh, that's true..." the brunette's face turned crimson "Daphne..., what about yours?"

'That's rather cruel, universe...' Apollo couldn't help but wonder.

Like a child who eventually became addicted to mythology - because of his name - he found the whole thing an incredibly cruel joke.

Daphne, also known as Apollo's first love and the nymph who also refused to love him.

A cruel joke, a very cruel joke.

"Apollo..." he sighed as he replied.

"Like the Greek god?" The brunette looked somewhat surprised at the situation "that's so... different..."

"Maybe it is" he tried to emulate a relaxed tone "and that's because my mother wasn't even a fan of Greek mythology."

"Is that serious?" the woman laughed "my mom was a HUGE fan of Greek mythology."

"And she named you after a nymph who was turned into a laurel?" the blonde satirized "that's kind of sad."

"In that case, she just liked the name" she explained "but I think if it was really up to her alone, my name would be Aphrodite or even Hera."

"The goddess who keeps getting betrayed on Olympus? Does your mother hate you?" The blond seemed to be in genuine doubt.

"I never thought so" the brunette laughed "but I must admit, Hera is a beautiful name."

"Yes, it is a beautiful name" he agreed in the end "but if names carry something, being betrayed doesn't seem like a good fate."

And at that point, Apollo seemed to believe faithfully that names could achieve such a feat; just as all his muses died... she would probably be betrayed one time after another if her mother had dared to put that name on her.

And maybe... he just didn't like that goddess; she basically killed all of Zeus' mistresses - for things that were usually his fault - and disgraced them all at once.

Yes, Hera was the victim in the whole situation because Zeus was a big piece of shit, but that also didn't give her the right to end the poor soul of a woman who was usually just caught and forced to be in the arms of that white-haired thing.

"Well, your name doesn't seem to carry anything" the woman punctuated "or by any chance do all your lovers die in some tragic way?"

He laughed.

Just laughed in a complete nervous way.

Lovers? No, but muses? God... countless.

"I haven't had any lover to know" he tried to answer quickly "but in the end, names are just names, aren't they?" He seemed to be trying to convince himself by saying those words.

"Yes, after all... I'm not going to turn into a laurel, am I?" She joked "and you're not going to be named the new sun god either."

"Obviously not" he let out a slight laugh "imagine if every Apollo who was born became the new sun god?"

"It would be chaotic!" she stated.

How did she do that?

It was a question that had arisen in the troubled mind - as of any artist - of Apollo. She just made the dark clouds in his head vanish, the subject that bothered him so much become lighter, more full of color.

Perhaps, she did resemble a nymph when the subject was her soft aura, her supernatural beauty, and her words that seemed so sweet; all spoken in a beautiful melodious voice.

"But seriously now, if you were likely to die from getting involved with me... would you still try?" The blonde couldn't help but ask.

"What a depressing question" The brunette frowned her eyebrows "you are very nice, I hope I don't die for getting close."

"Me too."