To be honest, this virus wasn't all that bad. For one thing, it wouldn't be more than a few days, if previous viruses were to go by, and for another, Hyacinth had never been all too bothered by notions of masculinity. In Sparta, men and women alike were expected to be strong and independent, whether on the battlefield or at home. There wasn't all
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Anicetus ran towards the noise, barking joyously as he bound away from his master-turned-mistress, excited to explore the new house and see who was visiting them.
"Hyacinthus?" Apollo called, leaning down to pet the Molussus after shutting the door, "Where are you, dearest?"
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"I'm at the balcony." The voice really wasn't hers, Hyacinth thought ruefully, as she turned around on the railing so that she half-faced the sliding door there. She raised a brow at the shadow of Anicetus running towards Apollo, then braced herself for the god's reaction.
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He couldn't help the sharp intake of breath at the sight of her, she was just beautiful, a princess of Sparta in every sense of the word. Apollo smiled slowly, offering a hand.
"Careful, beloved -- I would hate for you to fall."
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"Do you really think I'd fall?" she asked archly, but with a smile pulling at her lips. "I've climbed enough trees to handle a railing, I should think." Nevertheless, she took Apollo's hand and jumped off, back onto the floor of the balcony. "I feel rather odd," she said, as she reached for Apollo's other hand and looked up at him, her features still expressing her mild apprehension about this entire virus.
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