Carolyn
The Muses' Haven is a collective of studios and workshops where artists, poets, and musicians find inspiration under the divine guidance of Apollo and the muses. This creative hub fosters collaboration and innovation, allowing gods and mortal artists to explore the boundaries of their artistic expression.
Johnnie
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❝ 7𝑎𝑚; 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑢𝑝. ❞ 
 ** ** Ft ; 𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐚 & 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐨𝐬.

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** ** 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐘. For how long could one person continue to search until they found exactly what they were looking for? Some searched for days. Others searched for weeks. But of the lucky bunch? They already knew exactly what they were looking for and wasted no time in hunting it down. That day, the Haven was quiet with the simmering hum of activity. Here and there, a trickle of foot traffic would wander by, people with their heads either bowed to notetaking supplies they'd brought with them or gazes raised high, eyes sweeping the fine architecture. Among the crowd of people, a sole head of brown bobbed and weaved her way through, tote bag riding high on the bend of her shoulder. Despite the fact that she'd only woken up less than an hour or two ago, her eyes shone with the energy of someone who'd been awake long enough for sleep to lose its stubborn grip on them. After all, it was difficult not to be motivated by a place like this.
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** ** A hand slipped out ahead of her as she rounded the corner and grabbed the knob of a small studio, eyes flitting over her shoulder for just a second as she turned the knob and climbed the little brick steps. On the days where she ventured into her father's district, she liked to set up tent in the lesser frequented areas, preferring the quiet for her work than the usual cram-and-wreck of chaos she'd become well-accustomed to. As compared to the other districts set up all throughout Olympian, Apollo's held a certain air of peace, poets and artists alike fancying the elements of calmness. It took concentration to come up with the greatest ideas; that's what Aurora thought, anyway. It was the case for her and her loud head, thoughts always shouting over one another, each vying for their own time to shine. It helped to be in a place that was silent. *Mostly* Silent. It gave her mind time to soothe itself, allowing each idea room to weave themselves into a final product that actually made sense. In this instance, a song. For the last week or so, she'd toiled and mulled over multiple drafts of the same set of lyrics, scratching and rearranging words until they'd been jumbles of syllables on her pages. It'd been like that, day and night, until she'd gotten sick of it and had snapped her notebooks shut the night before. If there was any place that she would've been able to find proper inspiration, it would've been from a place graced by her father.
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** ** The door closed shut behind Aurora's retreating arm with a quiet *Click* As she realized that for once, she wasn't one of the only few in the studio. Tiny as it looked on the outside, wedged between buildings much larger than it, it was actually spacious on the inside. Wooden floors of rich maple stretched to meet walls decked by frames of fine gold, gorgeous art painted by unknown hands displayed from within. There were various tables, arranged in rows with matching benches. Occupants sat scattered in random array amongst said tables, heads bowed as they studied pieces of work that were either their own or the product of their peers. Aurora couldn't quite tell, but she didn't bother craning her neck to actually check. Instead, she waved at the closest person; a face that as of late, she'd been getting to know. Little by little, bit by bit. A salt and pepper beard, more gray than it was black. Deep set eyes of leafy green, all tying into a friendly face that reminded her of Santa had he been an artist instead of a sleigh rider. He was concentrated on his work, a hunk of chipped marble heavily settled on the table in front of him. It already looked as if he'd been slicing away at it, each cut and carve intentional. Securing her tote bag tighter, Aurora nodded at the other people in the room, but ultimately, her attention was focused on the man. 

"Good morning, Asklepios! How long have you been in here? What are you working on?" Question after question came, yet her voice was a whisper to maintain the quiet the studio had held before she'd arrived. Sliding onto the bench beside her brother, Aurora slid her bag off, careful not to jostle the contents within; a lunch container, a strawberry shake smoothie that she'd made in a rush, her laptop, songbook, and pens. All in all, a good combination for a work session if you asked her.
Beth
In the heart of The Muse's Haven, a sanctuary where inspiration breathed life into art, poetry, and music, Asklepios, the God of Medicine, found himself immersed in a labor of love. This collective, under the celestial canopy of Apollo and the muses, was a crucible of creativity where everyone sought that elusive spark that would transcend the mundane.

Amidst studios and workshops brimming with artists, poets, and musicians, Asklepios sat in the corner of the shared space, bathed in the soft glow of divine light that filtered through the high windows. His hands, skilled in healing, were now devoted to a different kind of creation. Before him, a statue began to take form, chiseled from marble with painstaking care. It was not just any statue, but a homage to Aurora, his half-sister, a demi-goddess whose presence was soon expected in this haven of creativity.

With each stroke of his chisel, Asklepios sought to capture the essence of Aurora's beauty, a task that required not only his divine skills but also the warmth of his affection for her. This was not merely a statue; it was a testament to his love and admiration, a gift meant to express the depth of his feelings. The marble seemed to soften under his touch, as if eager to embrace the likeness of Aurora, transforming under his hands into a marvel of artistry that captured her grace and splendor.

As he worked, the atmosphere around him was alive with the sounds of creation—the gentle tapping of chisels, the soft murmur of voices, and the distant melody of a lyre playing. Yet, within this symphony of artistic endeavor, Asklepios remained focused, driven by a singular purpose. He was not just carving stone; he was imbuing it with life, crafting a tribute that would stand as a symbol of his affection and appreciation. It was easy to destroy, but much harder to create.

The statue, in its final form, was a masterpiece that mirrored Aurora's beauty in every curve and line, a reflection of her divine essence. It was a labor of love, born from the heart of a god who, despite his dominion over medicine, found a profound connection in the act of creation. In The Muse's Haven, where divine inspiration flowed as freely as the waters of the Pierian spring, Asklepios had forged a gift of unparalleled beauty, a tribute to the sister he cherished, awaiting her arrival with a heart full of love.

Upon her arrival some time later he rose from the bench he'd been sitting on, working on a new piece that had yet taken shape. As she set beside him he took her hand and pressed his lips to it, saying, "Aurora. Thank you for coming." He smiled, looking around fondly. This place was a sanctuary to him—one of the few indoor places he felt truly comfortable. "I can never decide if it's more intimidating or inspiring to be around such talented artists. Oh well." Asklepios rose slowly, appearing a little unsteady on his feet. He may be a demi god, but he was old. He smiled apologetically and then walked over the large marble carving, covered with a cloth. He removed it, revealing the statue. "I know it pales in comparison to the actual woman, but I hope you like it, at any rate." He watched her closely for her reaction, his eyes lighting up with anticipation while he massaged his old, knobby hands.
Johnnie
** ** A handful of eyes spared a glance or two at the newest arrival, but soon enough, they'd returned to their work, far more interested at the tasks beneath their active hands than the siblings. In good enough sense, Aurora paid them little to no mind either, still shifting through her things to get them settled. "Don't even worry about the other artists. If anything, just know that they're all thinking the same thing as you! Nobody knows how other people view their art, so they probably wonder if it's as good as yours," She said, carefully cracking the lid of the container to look inside at the food within before nodding and closing it. There were two. One for her, and one for him. Sure, it was a bit early to consider lunch, but that was okay. In any case, the two were free to wander over to the nearby market and see if there was anything that tickled their fancy for a brunch. Glancing back up at her brother from beneath the curl of her lashes, she canted her head to the side, considering the man before her for a moment before her lips curled at their corners into a smile. She didn't know Asklepios very well, if at all, but the two of them had hit it off faster than she'd expected. Growing up with Apollo had been the *Only child* Experience, and though a large part of her knew that she wasn't the only one, within the walls of her childhood home, she *Was* The only one. She'd always known that there would come a day where she'd run into her siblings, but it'd come faster than she'd expected. Gently rocking her knees beneath the table, Aurora let out a huff of a laugh.
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** ** "You know I'll always have time to come and see you. Plus, it's nice not being cooped up inside of my apartment! As much as I love it, it gets stuffy sometimes." Such a fact was true, much as she wished it wasn't. Despite the constant huff and puff of the city's activity, it was difficult not to get bored in the place. The chaos of rushing cars and the shouts of clueless individuals, waving from their balconies and crossing the street with one another. It was a welcoming sound to wake up to in the morning, but it wasn't sustaining. Not for a busy mind like her own; one that needed to always focus on something to keep it occupied. 

** ** "So! What have you got under there?" Aurora ducked her head a bit as she asked the question again, eyes fighting to try and catch another glimpse of what could've possibly been perched on the table. There was only the few white hints of marble beneath, and as much as her hands itched to reach out and lift the bottom of the obscuring sheet, she held them still in her lap. Asklepios would reveal the surprise on his own in due time, and to her luck, he did just that. Standing up as well, she circled around the table's cornered edge and came to a stop a pace or so away from the display. "Can I guess? Is it a god? Our father? In fact, have you met Apollo yet? We should arrange a get-together for the three of us! I-"
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** ** Through the strung line of her one-sided conversation, Aurora was cut off as Asklepios finally pulled the offending sheet away, revealing exactly what she'd been trying to find for herself. Fair like snow, a marble replica of herself sat in front of her. A head of lovely curls angled downwards, as if surveying something just out sight. A pretty nose, cut by careful hands under a watchful eye. A comparison, most definitely, frozen in time's unmoving grasp, and yet she was *Gorgeous.* Reaching out a hand, Aurora gingerly touched the statue's cheek, stone cold against delicate fingertips. It almost felt criminal to disturb the beauty, lest she smudge its spotless surface. She blinked, and yet her cold reflection didn't flutter her lashes back, gaze still transfixed.

*Gorgeous.*
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** ** "Asklepios," She breathed, words hushed. Even in the busy murmur of the studio, her words cut through as she withdrew her hands and turned to her brother. "And you had the thought to say that it was intimidating being around these other artists? Let them be intimidated by *You.*" Again, her eyes found their way back to the statue, and she grinned, eyes crinkling at their corners. There was a certain peace about the way she stood; a current of life rushing just beneath her hard, pale skin. "I don't think I've ever received something like this before. How long have you been working on this?" Her hands itched to reach again. *Touch* Again. But she kept them at her sides, not fancying the thought of leaving fingerprints scattered about like tracks. 

** ** Turning away, she reached out and hugged her brother, chin propping itself onto his shoulder. It was nice hugging him. Everything about the elderly man screamed *Cozy,* As if he was meant to radiate all the comfort of the world. Perhaps that was why the statue appeared as lively as she did, rather than cold and dead as another may have been. Aurora was absolutely sure that if she were to go and look at any other works in the studio, none would carry the vitality of Asklepios' work. She was *Sure.* "This is... Thank you so much! When you called me to come and meet you, I wasn't expecting anything as grand as this!"
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Beth
In the hushed ambiance of The Muse's Haven, a refuge where creativity and life flourished under the guardianship of divinity, Asklepios, the venerable God of Healing, found himself at a crossroads, a moment of introspection and vulnerability. The sanctuary, alive with the vibrant strokes of artists and the melodious strains of unseen lyres, had always been a source of solace for him, a place where his love for creation, his deep-seated reverence for life, and his boundless affection for humanity, could coalesce into something tangible, something pure. As Aurora marveled at the marble statue before her, an example of Asklepios' unparalleled craftsmanship and his profound love for her, the atmosphere was imbued with a sense of tranquility, a brief respite from the chaos that encroached upon the realms of gods and mortals alike. Yet, beneath the surface of this serene exchange, the threads of Asklepios' spirit were fraying, worn by the ceaseless conflict that raged beyond the haven's confines and the inner turmoil that gnawed at his divine soul.

With every beat of his immortal heart, Asklepios was acutely aware of the fleeting nature of existence, even for a being of his stature. His failing health, a specter that lingered in the shadows of his thoughts. It was in this moment, under the guise of gifting Aurora with the statue, that he sought to unveil the depths of his concerns, to share with her the burden that weighed heavily upon his heart.

Sitting Aurora down amidst the vestiges of creation that surrounded them, Asklepios' gaze was tinged with a weariness that belied his divine origins. The war, a relentless tide of destruction that pitted brother against brother, god against god, had sown seeds of doubt within his heart. The actions of Poseidon and Zeus, driven by a thirst for power that knew no bounds, had left him disillusioned, questioning his allegiance to the very pantheon that he'd been a part of for so long.

"I am greatly troubled, Aurora," He began, his voice a mere whisper, fraught with the weight of his confession. "The war... It consumes us all, tearing at the fabric of what we hold dear. I find myself at a crossroads, torn between the world we know and a path less traveled—a path that leads to The Guardians, to Athena. Her vision of peace, of balance, calls to me. It is the legion to which you belong, yes?" As he spoke, the specter of retribution loomed large, a dark cloud that threatened to engulf him should he dare to defect from the ranks of the Tidebreakers. The possibility of retaliation was a stark reality, one that could unleash untold wrath upon him. In this moment of vulnerability, Asklepios sought not just understanding from Aurora, but protection—a sanctuary not just of stone and mortar, but of loyalty and unwavering support.

"My heart is heavy, for the choice I contemplate carries with it the weight of consequences too terrible to speak aloud. Yet, in you, dear sister, I find a beacon of hope, a reminder of the love that binds us. It is for you, for the sanctity of life and the pursuit of a peace that seems but a distant dream, that I consider this path. But I am afraid, afraid of the shadows that may seek to extinguish the light we strive to protect."

In the sacred confines of The Muse's Haven, amidst the relics of creation and the echoes of divine inspiration, Asklepios laid bare his soul to Aurora. His search for protection was not borne of fear, but of a love that transcended the boundaries of divine allegiance—a love for creation, for life, and for the sister who stood as his unwavering pillar of strength. In this moment of confession, the God of Healing sought not just refuge from the storm, but a promise of solidarity, a pledge that together, they could weather the tempest that loomed on the horizon.
Johnnie
** ** When the hug was over, Aurora took a careful step back and gingerly laced her hands in front of herself, doe eyes searching her brother's face curiously. The smile on her face, bright as ever, seemed to dim itself as she realized that Asklepios was still massaging his hands, a nervous air surrounding him in such a potent amount that it seemed determined to suffocate the area around the two. It was clear that there was more on her brother's mind than just the art of sculpting, and after a quick glance around the studio, Aurora extended a hand and lightly rested it on Asklepios' arm. It left a bitter, sour aftertaste in her mind to see the etched lines of age on his face deepening with worry; *Stress* From a war that shouldn't have been happening in the first place. 

** ** "Here, here. Come sit, okay? We can talk," Aurora said, guiding her brother around the rounded edge of the table and settling him down on the bench that she'd been seated on just seconds before. Her tote bag was scooted over to the edge, as were the containers of food she'd brought with her. Sitting beside the old man, she tucked her hands into her laps and nibbled her bottom lip, wide eyes seeking out any unsaid messages from him before she spoke up again.
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** ** "Ah... Let's start from the top of this, please? Is there something that's gone on that I've missed? I know we haven't known each other for very long, but maybe there's something that happened that I'm unaware of. This is about the war, I know. But there's nothing to fear, I promise." The corners of Aurora's lips twitched into a small smile, gaze slowly dragging itself back to the statue that Asklepios had made for her. "This war has been pointless. There was never a real reason for it.. Ever. I know we aren't aligned on the same sides. You're sided with Poseidon, and I'm with Athena. But I know you don't want to be a part of any of this at all." Aurora blinked, eyes bouncing back to her brother. It felt like a phantom hand had dipped itself into her stomach, fingers entwined with her gut and *Twisting.* Seeing her brother, sweet as he was, this troubled, bothered her. From time to time, the little voice in the back of her mind sighed a note of ease to her; that all would be just fine, and nothing would come out of this squabble. Before any of them knew it, it would all blow over, but *When?* People were lost every day. New scars, fresh bloodshed. A daily routine. What could she tell Asklepios? What could she tell him that he didn't *Already* Know? It was no secret that he was far wiser than her, having walked the realm for far longer than her own two feet had done, but that didn't stop her brain from scrambling to grab at something promising.

** ** Something solid.
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** ** "For the longest time, I didn't think I'd meet any of my other siblings," She suddenly began, words slow and tone unsure. It was as if she was still wrapping her mind about the new route, testing the waters as she peered at her brother and reached out for one of his hands. They were weathered with age, all too clear by the slight wrinkles that traced themselves around the bends of his knuckles. Brushing the pad of her thumb over the row of bones, she tilted her head. "You've known about this world for far longer than me. You've known about this war for longer than I've been alive I'm sure." A pause came, allowing Aurora to bubble her next thoughts before she dropped her shoulders with a sigh. There was a certain familiarity, a sense of safety that she pulled from her brother despite the fact that there were still blurry corners to his identity. But she was well with him, and he with her. They were good. "I'm so sorry that we've only met now instead of during better times. The last place you would've expected to meet your family is during a war. But maybe that's better for us! It'll make us closer!"

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Beth
Asklepios listened intently as Aurora spoke. In this sanctuary for artists nestled in Apollo's vibrant art district, he found a brief respite from the conflict that raged outside. He absorbed her touch—gentle and reassuring—allowing the warmth of her presence to seep into his worn spirit. Despite the recentness of their acquaintance, Aurora's empathy and kindness felt like a beacon of hope in an otherwise dark era. "You have a remarkable way of seeing through the turmoil, Aurora, finding hope where others might only perceive despair," He began, his voice gentle, blending seamlessly with the quiet ambiance of the studio. "This war weighs on me, not for the battles I might face, but for the unnecessary suffering it inflicts on those who are caught in the middle. Whether aligned with Poseidon or Athena, the sides matter less to me than the impact of their conflicts."

Holding Aurora's hand seemed to anchor him back to the moment. "And you're correct," He continued, a thoughtful smile touching his lips as he reflected on the peculiar timing of their meeting. "Finding each other now, during such chaos, has indeed brought us an unexpected closeness. It's a curious backdrop for a reunion, yet it has allowed us to forge a bond that might have taken years to develop in more peaceful times." Asklepios turned to face her more directly, his expression softening with affection and concern. "I wish none of this had ever happened, that the realms could know peace again as they once did. Yet, despite the turmoil, here you are—a light in the midst of darkness." He squeezed her hand, a gesture of reassurance meant as much for her as for himself. "For that, I am grateful."

His gaze then drifted to the marble statue beside them. Under the soft lights of the studio, the sculpture—a likeness of Aurora—seemed almost to radiate a gentle luminosity, the detailed carvings reflecting not only Asklepios' skill as an artist but also his deep affection for his sister. "This statue," He said, his voice imbued with a mix of pride and solemnity, "Is more than a mere piece of marble. I crafted it with intentions of protection, embedding a piece of my spirit within its form. Should you ever find yourself in need, whether in danger or despair, place your hand upon it. It will feel what you feel and provide you what you need." He paused, his eyes locking with hers, conveying a depth of sincerity and commitment. "It's a special creation, much like you, Aurora. No matter what happens, the connection we've established will endure. Just as this statue will stand the test of time, so too will my commitment to your safety and well-being," Asklepios said her, his tone resolute yet tender.

Aurora's presence and their conversation had brought him a clarity and peace that was rare for the old man. As they sat together, the sounds of the bustling art district faintly reaching their ears, Asklepios felt a renewed sense of purpose. "I should get going. You're young. I'm sure you have more to do than sit around in the dark with an old man all morning." He stood up with a groan, stretched, and and then offered his hand to her.
Johnnie
*Tick.*
** ** *Tick.*
** ** *Tick.*

** ** Aurora wasn't sure for how long her thoughts seemed to rotate themselves around in her head, weighing on their own before she finally gave a nod. It was a small tip of her head, but it was there. Subtle and discreet as Asklepios may have been trying to keep his worries, undertones of concern still oozed from between carefully chosen words. She'd comforted, and still he continued to fret. Much as she'd ever teased him in the past (recent as the term was) for his old age, she couldn't help but to begin to wonder if the lines of multiple years marking his face were indeed deposited by stress over this very war. In her eyes, the war was just about as new as anything to her. Her eyes were fresh, and mind even fresher so. What had *He* Seen that she had not? Beyond the wreckage of the refugee camps and the horrors of the idea that this could very well only be the beginning, perhaps Olympus' turmoil had been but the passing blink of an eye. But in Asklepios' case, faded eyes had been wide open for far longer. It disturbed Aurora to an extent, but she didn't wish to pry. Not if it'd upset the man more. Besides, were there no other matters to discuss. *Better* Ones? 

** ** Family was always a fine one.
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** ** "How did you manage that?" Aurora asked, shifting around on the bench and staring at the statue as her brother's words were left up to the air. From this angle, she couldn't quite see the creation's face in its entirety; only a fraction was provided, the majority of marble skin bathed by the haven's soft morning shadows. Scooting closer, Aurora carefully took hold of the cold start of her replica's shoulders and turned it around to see it better. "I only have to touch? What is providing me the necessary response? Is it you?" Question after question; she *Knew* She was chatty. Yes, Aurora believed in magic. She lived alongside it, for better or for worse, so how couldn't she? "But what if I'd want to speak to you instead? It wouldn't be the same as hearing your voice," She mused, delicately dancing the pads of her fingertips down the side of the statue closest to her. She couldn't feel anything. Not yet, anyway. Decidedly so, she chalked it up to the fact that her brother was sitting right there. She doubted that she'd feel anything different if the source of it all was present at such a proximity. 

** ** There would come a later time for her to try again.
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** ** "Before we go, will you at least take the food I made? I wasn't sure how long we'd be here for, but I made you a bento box just in case. There's some salad, rolls, and pasta in there! All the work you do dealing with patients has to make you hungry, and I'd imagine you'd probably forget to eat at times. Here!" Taking the hand offered to help her to her feet, Aurora got up, heels tip tapping as she skittered around the back of the bench and dug through her bag for utensils. They were easy-to-replace silverware; she wouldn't miss them if they were gone, nor would she mourn the plastic container that she'd organized the food in. Turning, she handed both to Asklepios and smiled. "Do you like pasta? It's my favorite, so it's what I always default to." A pause, and then she whirled back down to grab a significantly smaller container, clear lid exposing the contents within. Yogurt with granola sprinkled on top. 

"You like?" 

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