My Dear, Demonic Angel: Chapter 16 Kurami's View Cont.My Dear, Demonic Angel: Chapter 16 by Black-Caspian
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I shot a glare in his direction. Again with this ‘jealousy’; besides, I am not jealous, simply irked. Can’t anyone see she just barged in and then Momiji doesn’t even care?
“I’ve had enough with people telling me I’m just a teenaged girl in love. I am more of an adult than any other sixteen-year-old I know.” I huffed, “Now, excuse me.”
“I apologize, Kurami.” Kodiac blurted. “I only speak the truth; it’s really how you sound, no matter how much of a broken record it is. But if you need to, stop by Lady Suna’s and mine estate.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
“Oh, right. Let me scribble it down for you.” He magically made a piece of paper and pen appear, and then scratched down an address. Once he finished he handed me the slip and took a bow.
“There you go; it’s hard to miss the place once you see it.
Artemis Of The BowArtemis Of The Bow by RedRavenHood
Twin of my brethren youth,
This forest is thou own.
Sworn to the faces of the moon
And the silver, Divinity bestows.
Off the hunt, and above the hounds -
Life within the bow!
Fairest maiden of many calls,
This forest is thou own.
Archer of the gleaming dart,
My sister of the dualist two -
The nymphs have sworn their oath,
To the daughter who runs with wolves.
Favoured by Zeus and amongst all Gods,
Man played no part in this -
No part in the making of this maiden.
Thy fair Goddess, Artemis.
Phoebus ApolloPhoebus Apollo by RedRavenHood
Forever bound by the laws of mortality,
Cast me granite so I may weep,
And I shall be like Niobe,
And hubris shall be my immortal breach.
Apollo, Apollo, do not abandon me!
Surely if the Sun does rise in the East,
Then why West does it sleep?
Phoebus - have you forgotten me?
Hyacinth and Cyprus tears,
Must I always weep for the warning crow?
And ready myself for Achilles' heel?
I am made of flesh, not stone.
So take your chariot and go -
Sing for the Heavens that own my Heart!
And I shall be your own little muse,
And proclaim myself a pythia of your art
If you adorn me with larkspur and laurel leaf -
Your golden arrows shall be my own,
And the word of Delphi only shall I speak,
To beseech you to the right of Zeus' throne.
The satyr still flows from his skin,
Just as the muses sing at your lyre's accord,
To serenade the hunt of the maiden,
In acclamation that you are truly God.
Fair of hair and ruddy light -
Second of the dualist two -
With your waking, ceases the night.
Apollo, above t