Katherine didn’t get irritated by a lot of things, but being “randomly” selected for a pat-down was among one of her many dislikes. She felt naked, vulnerable, and beyond vexed. She nearly snarled as the man smoothed down her thighs – she didn’t miss her powers much, but at moments like these she wished she could hex the hell out of him. When he finally stood up, smiling politely at her and ducking away, Katherine grabbed her shoes from the table as well as bag and passport. At this point, she should be used to it. Hekate was always chosen for random searches. Perhaps it’s just her karma for all the heinous things she did as a god and witch.

The dethroned woman didn’t know what was worse, the flight or the wait for the flight. For two hours she sat in a shoddy, uncomfortable airport chair, her back aching while she was surrounded by screaming babies, businessmen chatting on their phones, and noisy tourists bragging about their travels. At one point, a man turned to her and started a conversation about the wonders of Greece. The conversation only lasted a few minutes and went roughly like this:

[indent]“It’s such a beautiful country – and the people there!” The man smiled at her in a friendly way, tilting his head at her. “Have you ever been?”

“There are stray animals, the buildings are in ruin, and the country is in the middle of an economic crisis. So beautiful.”[/indent]

And after that, no more questions were asked. 

But the flight! Next to her was a noisy, petulant child, and to her right was an ignorant, oblivious mother who stared transfixed at a screen at the back of a seat. The man who was seated in front of her had annoyingly laid back his seat to the maximum and Katherine had to shift multiple times in order to avoid unnecessary touch. The airplane food was tasteless and soggy, like wet cardboard and the only available alcohol was cheap and bitter. It was long, it was tiring, and it was Hell. And so when she stumbled off the plane and into the terminal, she may have been a little bit tipsy.

It was with a heavy stone in her gut that Katherine – no, its Hekate now – made her way to the Acropolis. Seeing Greece for the first time in so long, it made her feel [i]weird[/i]. A sense of not belonging, a hollow in her gut. This wasn’t her life anymore; she was no longer Hekate but Katherine. There is no point in reminiscing, in visiting for that brief wind of nostalgia. Because at the end of the day, she was not a god and she was not a witch; she was Katherine. She was no longer a dealer of death, but a mortician; she was no longer a punisher, but a judgmental bitch; she was no longer [i]Hekate[/i].

The once beautiful Parthenon, built for the wise Athena, had crumbled into itself to create a graveyard of memories. Hekate always felt out of place, travelling into Athens when it was in glory. Katherine felt as if she belonged, a carcass next to another carcass. So, for a moment, just a moment, Hekate allowed herself to feel the thrum of the earth and imagine herself gliding, nostalgia possessing her heart. And, with a ruthless jerk of her lips, Hekate severed it and became Katherine, moving forward once again.

As if the Fates hated her, in that single moment of weakness, she sensed them. They stood away from her and she hissed under her breath in anger. Why [i]them[/i]? Why not anybody else? Anybody would have been fine, but [i]them[/i]? With reluctance, she took several steps until she was once again Hekate. God damn Hekate.