refusetofight | For @messageforyou

For @messageforyou

Besides the obvious, there’s one big problem with being dead: it leaves Patroclus with too much time to think. To ruminate. To overanalyze. That was always his tendency, but at least in life, he had Achilles and the war. There was rarely a stretch of stillness that allowed him to wander so deep in the labyrinth of his own thoughts.

Not like Elysium. Patroclus wishes he was more like Ajax, always spoiling for a test of strength against the shades of other legends, or Odysseus, chatting and joking so easily with anyone who will listen. Will they ever tire of it? Meanwhile, Pat still feels like his place here is undeserved. His act of bravery at Troy was a fluke. That wasn’t enough for Elysium; Achilles had to arrange that deal with Hades himself.

And what is he doing with that gift? Whiling it away in a chronically dreadful mood. It’s no surprise Achilles would take another lover. He needs someone more exciting and vibrant. He needs a challenge. Hermes is who he needed from the very start. Powerful, divine, worthy.

Now there’s Lyra, to—a beautiful, perfect child. Hermes can give Achilles anything he wants. What can Patroclus give him? Painful memories. Shame and regret. Achilles never says as much—of course he wouldn’t—but Pat assumes.

He lays sprawled on the spongy ground in the center of a glade, looking up at Ixion and fumbling around the corners of this well-trod maze of thought. Méli has surrounded him in scattered offerings: very fetchable sticks, a sandal, a broken arrow, an old bone. She finally gives up her restless pacing to flop down next to him. She shifts to rest her chin on his chest and sighs emphatically. Her gifts don’t seem to be helping.

“I’m sorry. I’m not good company right now, am I?” he mumbles, stroking her soft ears. He wishes he could be more like her. Living in the moment, not a single worry except what fun will be had next …

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Hermes' brow creases in sincere confusion. Of all the things he suspected Patroclus felt, it wasn't that. "How could he doubt you? He should know that he's always first in your heart."

There's a touch of melancholy in the last sentence, swiftly covered up as Hermes continues, "I'm glad you were able to talk. But promise that you'll intervene if his mood changes."

In Hermes' mind, Patroclus will always come first for Achilles, and as their bond has grown stronger, it's become a point of tenderness. Hermes doesn't need to be first, but it hurts to be second, thinking that Patroclus could still end their relationship with a snap of his fingers if he really wanted to. But Hermes doesn't want to dwell on that--he just wants to know that Achilles will support him and make sure there's not a fight in front of Lyra.

“For most of our time together, he’s been the only one in my heart. He never expected to share.” Certainly not with a god. But Achilles can see a distinct parallel between Pat and Hermes: both of them are afraid of being unwanted. Abandoned. He wishes he could find the words to break them both of that miserable curse.

“Pat would never argue in front of Lyra,” he says firmly, compelled to defend Pat’s sense of honor.

Hermes has asked for a promise, though, and he’ll have it. Achilles gives a tight smile and he kisses Hermes’ knuckles. His voice softens. “But you have my word—if there’s any hint of bitterness, I’ll step in immediately.”

Not expecting to share and how deeply hurtful it is to suddenly share without warning is something Hermes fundamentally doesn't understand. Not only because multiple lovers is so ubiquitous among his family, but because he's never sought to be the only one in a person's heart. Just having a piece of their heart would be enough for him, and all too often in his life he didn't even have that. He's never had a desire for monogamy, so the pain of being implicitly promised it just to have that promise broken is beyond him.

So he still doesn't get it, even when Achilles tries to explain it. But maybe he doesn't have to get it. It's enough to just take the evidence before him and understand that regardless of whether or not he understands it, Patroclus finds the whole thing upsetting.

"Alright. Thank you." Hermes tries to take Achilles' word for what it's worth, and trust that he'll keep it, even if it means upsetting Patroclus. And hopefully, he won't have to keep his word in the first place, and Patroclus really doesn't start anything in front of Lyra.

Hermes tries to shake himself back into a good, optimistic mood. It's a little forced, but that's okay. Often the first step of being optimistic is forcing it. "Let's get to Lyra. She should know who will teach her."

Achilles gets the feeling his explanation wasn’t satisfactory, but it’s hard enough explaining one’s own heart, much less someone else’s.

“Yes, and she’ll be so pleased to see you, love.” He gives Hermes a nod and a reassuring smile, then takes his hand to guide him along the path Elysium’s offered. It’s far shorter and cleaner than the route he originally took to get here. It’s clear and confidently laid with stone.

Back at the other glade, Patroclus is showing off Méli’s repertoire of tricks. Or at least trying to figure out which ones she hasn’t forgotten again. At present, he’s standing drawing circles with his finger, trying to get her to spin around. The best he’s getting is a quizzical look. “Come now, Méli! Spin! I know you can.”

Lyra is happy to watch Méli try and fail to do tricks. Poor, silly doggy can't be blamed for forgetting everything when she keeps on drinking Lethe water. She laughs at how confused the poor dog is as Pat tries to get her to spin, leaning her cheek on Pat's shoulder.

But she perks as her fathers approach. She feels the change in the air, whispering of Hermes' presence. It's like the very land anticipates him. Before they arrive, she whispers in soft excitement to Patroclus, "They're coming back."

And as they do, she springs from Patroclus' lap. "Dad! Daddy!"

She's already greeted Achilles, but she hesitates before greeting her divine father so casually. It's still strange to see a god looking like a god--strange to see the wings, strange to see the glow, strange to see how the land itself seems to gravitate towards him. Instead of running up to him, she just holds out her arms, a silent request for a hug. She's not actually sure he'll give it to her.

Hermes, for his part, has to smother the urge to turn into an animal again. Instead, he has his easy, opaque smirk on his face, his eyes impossible to read, and he crouches down to hold his arms in turn. When she hugs him, it's polite, gentle, but it's still a hug. "Hello, dear one. I see you've wasted no time breaking back into Elysium?"

"Nope!" she says cheerfully. She doesn't need to hide anything behind a smirk or facade. She's very happy about the fact that she's a little criminal and now she's getting to hug her dad.

Méli immediately lunges to be part of this greeting, but Patroclus holds her back to give Lyra and Hermes their space.

It’s easy to observe the differences in how Lyra interacts with her fathers. Pat’s first thought is, He’s a god. Of course, he’s not suited to fatherhood. But he pauses and tries to be more charitable—he knows this is Hermes’ first child, and Zeus was a terrible parent. Of course this is difficult.

Besides, it’s easy for anyone to look stiff next to someone like Achilles, who takes so naturally to fatherhood. Even now, he’s beaming proudly at his daughter.

“Seems you kept Patroclus and Méli out of trouble,” he says, patting her head. “Thank you. Hermes and I had plenty of time to discuss your tutor and come to a decision. Are you ready to hear it?”

Hermes sits on the ground so it's easier for him to be at eye level with Lyra. It really is so strange to see so much of himself and Achilles in one person. She jumps up and down, tapping her hands together in excitement, her face practically splitting with her grin. "Yes! Yes! I want to hear it!"

She looks to Hermes, and his opaque smirk naturally warms into a softer, more genuine smile at her glee. "Daddy said she was a girl. Is she a goddess? Or a human? Or a nymph?"

"A mortal girl, just like you," Hermes says, voice dropping into soft, conspiratorial tones. This is easier than hugging someone he doesn't quite know yet. Being a bit silly comes naturally to him. "Some people think she's very scary, but I think they're just scared because they're not used to girls who can tell them off when they're rude and mean. Boys are silly about that sort of thing, hmm?"

Lyra wrinkles her nose and laughs, still clapping. "Yes! Yes, they are! Boys keep telling me to stop talking, even though I'm right, just 'cuz I'm a girl and they don't like it when girls are right and they're wrong."

"Exactly." Hermes gives her a wink. "Lucky you're too smart for that, aren't you? I don't think you'll be scared at all."

Nor does Hermes think Lyra has any cause to be afraid. Medea is formidable, but she's no threat to a god's small child. Hermes expects that the worst Medea might inflict in her displeasure is grueling chores.

This is why Achilles loves children: the infectious, unabashed joy.

“Speaking from first-hand experience, boys definitely don’t know what they’re talking about half the time,” Patroclus agrees, adjusting his hold on Méli as she squirms. “We just like to hear ourselves speak sometimes.”

“I’ve been guilty of that,” Achilles laughs, though he does wonder what the women in his life would have had to say if he’d given them space to speak. Maybe Lyra is his chance to do right by them. He crouches next to Hermes and his daughter, an elbow resting on his knee.

“Your teacher’s name is Medea of Colchis.” Achilles draws his fingers through Lyra’s hair, pulling it back, away from her face. “You’ve heard many stories, fledgling. Does that include hers?”

Lyra pauses in her bouncing to look up at Achilles with wide eyes. Many children would tremble and cower at the thought of meeting Medea of Colchis, but Lyra just looks surprised and curious.

"Stories about Medea?" Lyra nods. "Yeah, she was an Argonaut. And a witch. And they say she killed her children."

"She only pretended to kill her children to protect them from the wrath of those left behind by her murder of a king," Hermes says gently. "And to hurt her former husband, Jason. Her children are grown men now."

Lyra listens intently, nodding as Hermes speaks. Ah, that's okay then. She'd feel a little weird about her fathers sending her to someone with a history of killing children. "What's she like?"

"Formidable. Clever. Resourceful. Courageous. Much like you." Hermes takes Lyra's hand, resting it between his as he holds her eyes. "And we have it on good authority that she'll be the best guardian for you. She'll teach you what you need to know to have all the adventures you dream of."

Hermes doesn't know that Achilles has withheld information about Apollo's suggestion from Patroclus, so it doesn't occur to him to skirt around references himself.

Patroclus is still skeptical of this choice, wondering how the Fates’ might be pulling their threads, impelling even a clever god like Hermes to make irrational decisions—like put his child in the hands of a renowned witch. And Pat wonders exactly who the “good authority” is and why they had so much influence over this choice. Something to ask Achilles about later.

For now, he just watches and listens. Upsetting Hermes wouldn’t do right now.

“Both Hermes and I have met with her. We wouldn’t send you to someone who would cause you harm,” Achilles rests a hand on her small shoulder. “Even so, Hermes won’t be far, and Medea will teach you how to call me to your side.”

He smiles, trying to kindle more excitement. “Her husband is the king of Athens. You’ll live comfortably and see all the wonders the city has to offer.”

Later on, Hermes will take note of Patroclus' restraint and be grateful for it. For now, he focuses only on Lyra. It's easier that way, rather than worrying about anything else right now.

Lyra bounces gently in place, a little bit of excitement alighting at the thought of going to Athens, where all the merchants seem to want to go and talk up so much--but still, her curiosity is ever greater. "Will I learn to be a witch? What's it like?"

"You know..." Hermes crosses his legs, keeping a hold of Lyra's hand and smiling at her, voice soft. "I think mortal magic is a lot like a good trick. It's learning the rules of how the world works... so you can break them very cleverly." What else is the art of seizing a shade of the dead from the Underworld? Growing dragon from teeth, regrowing missing limbs, laying down a curse? Knowing the rules of the world so well that one can twist them to their advantage, or break them entirely without suffering the consequences.

"That sounds like fun," Lyra says earnestly. "I like breaking rules."

"You come by it honestly," Hermes says with a wink.

Pat wonders how quickly Lyra will be taught such dangerous things. She’s a precocious child, but she’s still a child. As a girl, it’s the best way to protect herself in a world like ours, Achilles had insisted. Maybe that’s true, maybe these arts will protect her from cruel men, but what are the chances she hurts herself in the process?

“Don’t break rules just for the sake of it, my dear,” Achilles says in his best parental tone. He’s happy to enforce some semblance of order and let Hermes be the fun father. “I expect you to treat Medea and everyone in her house with the respect they’re due.”

Achilles sees the skepticism stormy in Pat’s face and adds, “I’m sure you’ll learn medicine, too. That will come in handy on your adventures, and be a great boon to those around you.”

Pat is only slightly mollified. He’d prefer that’s all she learns. And that they would send her to Chiron. But she’s not his daughter.

Hermes glances at Patroclus, the first time he’s really looked straight at the man since greeting his daughter, and notes his expression. Not that Hermes is inclined to really take Pat’s opinion into account on this one. Hermes is willing to be very flexible to make things work out between them, but giving him say over how Lyra’s raised is where he draws the line.

“You’ll learn all sorts of things. All of them fun or useful. Many will be both.” He pats Lyra’s head, and she grins, bouncing in place. She really can’t stay still at all. She came by that honestly too, he supposes.

“I’ll be good! I’ll be really nice to her and to the king and learn all the things she teaches me! And I’ll learn how to summon the dead, so I can summon Daddy and Patroclus and I can show them what I know!”

“Good.” Hermes’ smile reaches his eyes. “And if you ever need me before you can summon the dead, I’m just a prayer away, alright?”

Lyra pauses in her bouncing to arch one skeptical brow. “Is it really okay to pray for you to visit? Aren’t you busy?”

“Not too busy for you,” Hermes says quickly, ruffling her hair to cover how that question pinches his heart. “A prayer away. Promise.”

“Good.” Achilles kisses the top of her head. “But I’ll hold you to your word. If you cause too much mischief, Lady Medea won’t trust you to keep a pet.”

As much as he’d like to be focused on Lyra and her restless excitement, Achilles also has his eyes on both his lovers. He knows Pat is already becoming fiercely protective of Lyra.

But he sees Pat’s face soften when Lyra again mentions summoning him as well as her “Daddy.” Patroclus’ eyes flick to Hermes, looking for any sign that he disapproves; he’s still not confident Hermes wants him around their child. He finally bobs his head, grateful to be included. “I’m eager to visit and see your progress.”

Satisfied there’s no need to intervene yet, Achilles turns his attention back to Lyra. “Your father is very fast, little fledgling.” Achilles quietly finds Hermes’ hand, clasps it tight. “It’s no trouble for him to come when called upon.”

Hermes doesn't visibly react at all to Lyra wanting to summon Patroclus. That could mean that he doesn't mind, or that he's consciously not reacting--it can be hard to tell with his face if one doesn't know him well.

"Yes, I have to be good so I can convince her to let me have a pet. A dog. Or a cat." Lyra doesn't yet know Hermes well enough to see the pain he feels that she needs reassurance that he'll come when she calls. Instead, she bounces in place, eager to tell him all about her plans for an animal. "I've never had a pet, even though I've always wanted one and the strays are very nice to me, because Eu-Eu says we're too poor, but if I live with the king of Athens then I wouldn't be too poor especially if I promise to take care of it all by myself, so I got to convince Medea that I'll keep a promise like that and I can be good! Do you like cats and dogs?"

Hermes has absolutely no trouble keeping up with the burst of excited babble from his daughter. He squeezes Achilles' hand, steeling himself even as he smiles. "Oh, I like most animals. As for cats and dogs, I prefer being a cat--easier to get up to all sorts of trouble--but I think dogs make for better company. Don't they, Méli?"

Hermes looks to Méli with a wink, like she can understand him. It makes Lyra giggle, swaying as she bounces. "Will you turn me into a cat some time? I'd like to get into kitty trouble too." Already she's imagining the mischief. Visiting the Underworld as a kitty. Stealing from the market as a kitty. Scratching her dumb big brother's leg as a kitty.

"Maybe. Let's focus on getting you settled with your human trouble first, hmmm?"

Méli acknowledges the wink (or perhaps just her name) with a long pause, tongue lolling, one ear perked … before she resumes squirming against Pat’s hold. She hasn’t been the most well-behaved dog Patroclus has ever known, but she’s definitely made for more interesting company.

“What about a horse?” Achilles muses—they’ve always been his favorite ‘pet’ and the animal he misses most in the Underworld. “They’re more practical than a dog or cat. They’re fine companions and can help you cover ground on your adventures.”

“She’s still young for a horse, Achilles,” Pat chides. “And I doubt Medea could teach her to handle one.”

“Father took me on rides with Xanthus and Balius when I was just a boy,” Achilles argues.

“Not alone,” Pat sighs, as if this isn’t the first time he’s dealt with some revisionist history. “He led you and Xanthus around the fields at little more than an easy trot.”

"A horse sounds fun!" Lyra pipes up, wiggling in excitement. "But I couldn't cuddle a horse in bed like a dog or a kitty. Maybe a horse, and a dog or a cat?"

"You're limited only by what you can convince Medea to tolerate, my dear," Hermes says with a fond smile. "Consider it a test of your charm. Life is full of goals best met by being very charming."

And Hermes is more than happy to let her get away with whatever she's charming or cunning enough to get herself. It seems like an easy way to encourage her to develop the skills Hermes sees as most useful in life.

"Is that how you meet most of your goals? By being very charming?" Lyra asks, bright-eyed and curious. Hermes huffs a chuckle, still smiling.

"I'd say that's how I meet most of my goals." Hermes looks to Achilles, smiling. He only just stops himself from joking that that's how he convinced Achilles to get with him in front, conscious of Patroclus. "What do you think? Do you think my charm is mostly what got me where I am?"

“Would a stuffed dog or cat keep you in the meantime?” Patroclus asks. “No doubt charming someone like Medea will take some work.”

Cuddling—that’s part of her motivation for a pet. It makes Achilles’ heart ache. Medea isn’t the cuddling type, nor would he expect that of a tutor. Lyra will have to fall asleep alone. With her big foster family, has she ever had to do that before? He can’t help but pull her into a protective hug.

He knows she’ll be brave, resilient, but Achilles still wishes he could be a warm presence as his father was. Can he ask Hermes to be there in his stead when he’s still growing into fatherhood? The last thing Achilles wants to do is rush him.

Hermes’ smile and directed question breaks Achilles from his thoughts. “Your charm, yes, but if that was all, you’d be no better off than Aphrodite. Cleverness—that played an equal or greater part in your success.”

Lyra is very pleased to be pulled into a hug by her daddy. It hasn't yet occurred to her how unused she is to sleeping on her own--it had never been an option, with all of her siblings and how little space their little home had--and it she doesn't know how cold and lonely an empty bed can be. A loving creature would go a long way.

"I don't have any stuffies. We were too poor for toys that we didn't find on the ground," Lyra says with a slight pout. She really would like a stuffy. Maybe that's one of those small luxuries she can have now.

(That gives Hermes an idea. It shouldn't be hard to find a soft toy for her, surely? Hebe would be able to point him in the best direction. That seems like a good gift for a daughter.)

But Lyra moves on quickly from conversation of stuffies, more interested in her father. "He said that I should stay clever and charming. That it'd help me a lot."

"Mmm, that I did." Hermes dares to affectionately boop Lyra's nose. She giggles, wrinkling her nose, and it makes Hermes smile. "Your aunt Aphrodite--she's very charming and savvy, but cleverness isn't her strong suit. You might meet her some time. She never wears clothes, so be ready for that."

"Doesn't she get cold?" Lyra says.

"Oh, very, but she'd never admit it. That's why she always makes it unreasonably warm around her."

Méli finally relaxes back into Patroclus’ lap as he listens to this discussion. His eyes shift to Achilles. Yes, he could be charming and clever in some ways. But ultimately his success relied on other things. Not all of them were good, but Pat hopes Lyra will inherit some of her father’s better ones. “It helps to be brave and generous, too.”

Achilles gives Pat a smile as he recognizes the compliment, then turns back to Lyra and gives her a gentle warning squeeze. “But not overly proud. Know your weaknesses, and that there’s still much to be learned from others.”

His tone lightens at the talk of Aphrodite and he barely stifles a roll of his eyes. “Take care when asking your aunt for advice, though, particularly where it concerns romance.”

Lyra listens with rapt attention. Yes, these are her fathers and her sort of uncle, but they're also a god and two heroes of legend. She's interested to hear their advice, and all the traits they think she should strive for.

Pride. That seems to be the theme of a lot of stories of heroes. Lyra wonders at it, and wonders how it can be so strong that it can make people act in ways that they'd normally recognize are dumb.

Hermes chuckles, smiling as his aura warms with the turn of the conversation. It's like the whole glade is a little brighter, like he's brought a part of the sun down with him. "Oh, I don't know. She knows what she's talking about when it comes to romance. She's the one who taught me that love is a feeling, but also a choice you make."

The decision to look warmly on a person despite their flaws, the decision to remain with them when conflicts inevitably arise, the decision to forgive and forget the wrongs they do you, and the decision to work together to keep that feeling alive, even when it's hard.

Hermes ruffles Lyra's hair. The motion is a little more natural than most of his affection towards her. Lyra, for her part, is clearly a little confused by the assertion that love is a choice, taking that nugget to turn in her mind. "Just be aware that Aphrodite adores torrid drama. And it's a lot more fun for her to watch it than for you to experience it, so hear any advice she gives with that in mind."

Achilles has never thought of love as a choice. Like pride, it always felt like a force unto itself, as outside his control as the tides. The first time he felt it with Patroclus, it felt like his entire world had shifted to place Pat at the center. The second time, when he felt it with Hermes, it was slower but no less inexorable. He couldn’t imagine either of them being a choice.

Maybe that’s why Aphrodite adores him; for all his strength and heroism, he’s powerless when it comes to love.

That love is a choice—Patroclus understands that. Many times, he’s chosen to love Achilles despite his outsize pride, his stubbornness, and now his love for another man. Loving a hero has been a feat of endurance, but seeing Achilles happy—even now, holding a daughter in his arms—is worth the struggle.

The way Lyra obviously absorbs all of this information—a slight furrow in her smooth brow, a little tweak of her mouth—reminds Achilles of young Zagreus.

“It will make more sense when the time comes.” He also recalls how much the prince protested at ‘you’ll understand when you’re older’ answers and gives her a kiss on the temple. “That sort of love is still years away, fledgling. Until then, you have our love.”

Love has frequently been a choice for Hermes, especially one he struggles not to make. There were many times he didn't want to love Zeus, wanted to sever that last emotional tie, but he never could. He would always get caught on something--some scrap of affection his father threw his way. And he could never just leave and disappear and let Zeus be out of his life completely. With everyone else in his life, he could walk away and never again see them, such is the privilege of godhood--but he doesn't want to.

Just as he could walk away from Lyra, ignore her like so many other gods do, but he doesn't want to. Even if he's afraid.

And Lyra, for her part, is visibly soaking up the affection. Even if they give her the annoying grownup answer of 'she'll understand when she's older.' But she supposes if all the adults say that, there's probably at least a little truth to it.

"It seems like a lot of trouble," Lyra muses. "I like the love I have already."

"Oh, it's a lot of trouble," Hermes chuckles, looking down so he doesn't instinctively look at Achilles or Patroclus. "But it's worth it. You'll see. Unless you grow up like your aunt Athena, who hasn't the slightest interest in any of it, but not many people are like Athena."

Lyra cocks her head curiously, rocking gently in Achilles' grip because she is terminally unable to sit still. "What's Athena like? Is she nice?"

"Depends on how you define nice," Hermes says, still smiling. "She doesn't do social visits. I think being friendly for the sake of it would give her hives. But she's fair-minded and even-tempered. But Achilles has firsthand experience how she deals with mortals."

“Hermes is right. She can be as cold as the marble statues made in her image, but at times we must follow her example. We should not allow ourselves to be swayed by strong emotion.” Achilles gives Lyra slack to fidget. It’s not a nuisance, but an endearing reminder of her buzzing hummingbird of a father.

“Lady Athena moves her favored heroes to action, but has the insight to stay a man’s hand when it’s driven by his worst impulses.” Like Achilles’ urge to cut down Agamemnon; he won’t soon forget the divine grip that stopped him from drawing his blade. “Only now do I fully appreciate the wisdom she tried to impart. If she ever comes to you, my dear, heed her words.”

Lyra may not go to war, but he hope she’ll still earn Athena’s favor as a beloved niece. He suspects Lyra will need some tempering wisdom.

How interesting, to learn about the gods from people who've met them. Lyra had never imagined meeting one at all, let alone being able to hear about all of them. She nods as her daddy advises her to listen to Athena--not that she really intended to openly defy an Olympian who told her what to do. "I'll listen if she comes. Promise."

She can't help but hope she has a chance to meet Athena. And Aphrodite. And all the other gods and goddesses who make her aunts and uncles and grandmas and grandpas. Except Zeus, maybe. It sounds like there's trouble between Zeus and Hermes, and even at her age, she has the good sense not to get in the middle. Lucky he's gone to the stars, so she doesn't have to.

"Do any of the Olympians like social visits? Being friendly just to be friendly?" The stories don't make it sound like it, but Hermes kind of strikes her as someone who likes social visits. Why else would he visit her as a kitty? And Hermes smiles, and it's like the glade glows with his good mood. He likes talking about his family to her, she notes. And it feels a little like the world around him always responds to his mood, like the land is happy when he's happy, and it's sad when he's sad. Maybe that's just what it means to be a god.

"My brother Dionysus, and my aunt Hestia, both like to be friendly for the sake of it," Hermes says. "And Hebe. But Hebe has a mischievous side. She likes to raise a little playful trouble, especially when the grownups take themselves too seriously. Aunt Hestia likes a nice conversation by a warm fire, and Dionysus likes to party."

Lyra looks to Patroclus, then to Achilles, leaning her head against her daddy's stomach. He's not as warm as the living, but his embrace is no less loving for it. "Have either of you met them? Are they nice? You said Hebe made a hopscotch tournament."

Edited 2024-01-14 22:30 (UTC)

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