Achilles' watch is not entirely uneventful. Half-way through the siblings' tête-à-tête, Zagreus silently rounds a corner. Not a word is exchanged between mentor and protégé, they simply make eye contact: Achilles slowly shakes his head, Zagreus frowns and turns back the way he came, leaving a trail of cooling, molten footprints in his wake. (How the lad ever thinks he can be sneaky when he leaves evidence like that, Achilles doesn't know.)
He hears the telltale change in tone that signals a conversation wrapping up and feels what? Embarrassed? To hear their affectionate words, especially from Athena. It's far from the first time he's heard gods speak so candidly with one another; his duties find him ignored like any fixture of the house. Standing watch outside closed doors like these, Achilles has heard hushed, loving words between Persephone and Zagreus, or even Persephone and Hades. It leaves him with a lingering film of guilt, like he's stolen their precious words out of the air.
And then Athena emerges, chasing shadows away to the furthest reaches of the hall with her very presence. Or maybe that's just how it seems to his bleary shade's eyes.
"Ah— ... I shall take greater care in future." He blinks back the fresh shock of shame at her warning and veers back into strict formality. "It's a pleasure, Lady Athena—the chance to serve you once again, if only for a moment."
Once the goddess is well out of sight, Achilles waits another dozen breaths before he returns to the door. He's not quite ready to drop protocol—not after what just transpired with Athena, or with Zagreus skulking about—and he gives it a gentle rap with his knuckle. "Lord Hermes? Would you still like my company?"
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He hears the telltale change in tone that signals a conversation wrapping up and feels what? Embarrassed? To hear their affectionate words, especially from Athena. It's far from the first time he's heard gods speak so candidly with one another; his duties find him ignored like any fixture of the house. Standing watch outside closed doors like these, Achilles has heard hushed, loving words between Persephone and Zagreus, or even Persephone and Hades. It leaves him with a lingering film of guilt, like he's stolen their precious words out of the air.
And then Athena emerges, chasing shadows away to the furthest reaches of the hall with her very presence. Or maybe that's just how it seems to his bleary shade's eyes.
"Ah— ... I shall take greater care in future." He blinks back the fresh shock of shame at her warning and veers back into strict formality. "It's a pleasure, Lady Athena—the chance to serve you once again, if only for a moment."
Once the goddess is well out of sight, Achilles waits another dozen breaths before he returns to the door. He's not quite ready to drop protocol—not after what just transpired with Athena, or with Zagreus skulking about—and he gives it a gentle rap with his knuckle. "Lord Hermes? Would you still like my company?"