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[b][center][color=8157b6]HERA[/color][/center][/b]
[/h1][/sup][/color][indent][sub][COLOR=8157b6][I]HERA’S PENTHOUSE[/I][/COLOR][/sub][/indent][indent][sup][right][COLOR=8157b6][b]stewing in a most divine depression[/b][/color][/right][/sup][/indent][hr]
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Hera lay sprawled on her couch, one hand draped over the edge and clutching a half-empty bottle of wine. The numbness Hathor had provided failed shortly after she’d gotten home from the Conclave. The sudden onslaught of pain seemed even worse the second time around, and the Queen of the Gods had found herself drowning her sorrows with an old friend. Chianti had nothing on nectar, but it quelled the storm inside her just as well.

At least, for a moment.

Unfortunately, that moment had passed. Her eyes fluttered awake, smudged with mascara and eye shadow from the night before. Her two day bender had left her with a pounding head, a worrying sign of how much she’d drank. Slowly and shakily, Hera pulled herself up into a sitting position, running a hand through her disheveled hair, a groan slipping past her lips. Realizing she still held the bottle of wine, she brought it to her lips, grimacing as she swallowed the stale red liquid. 

Mornings like this weren’t uncommon. It had been many years since she’d had one, but they found her all the same. A cycle of pain, endless and inescapable. No matter what she did, she always seemed to end up alone. How long until she lost Ares too? He was all she had left now, her sweet, sweet boy. 

Hera was stirred from her wallowing by the chiming of her phone, the tell-tale sign of an email. She’d taken the sick time she’d had and promptly used all of it, informing the hospital that she had a family emergency to take care of. Still, her inbox had been receiving messages from patients all night, those who hadn’t been informed of Dr. Bailey’s sudden leave of absence. This message wasn’t from a patient though.

Staring back at her from the phone screen was an invitation from Jupiter, of all people. She couldn’t help but scoff. Just like the Romans to reappear and plan a party, all while her son’s killer remained at large. The audacity. If Hera was in a headspace capable of rational thought, she might’ve found the whole thing off, suspicious even. As it stood however, her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of mourning, guilt, and vengeance. 

She’d need to meet with Ares soon, to see what he’d gathered. By then, she’d need to be out of this pit, back into the shell of strength she wore so well. She could not let him see her weakness. In times like these, she needed to become a pillar of strength. Not just for him, but for herself as well, and though she might be loath to admit it, the rest of the Olympians as well. Their family was under attack, and that wouldn’t do. Revenge on the Greeks was a dish she’d reserved centuries ago.

Time soldiered on as Hera sat on the couch, awash in the haze of depression. She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before she arose, but by the time she stepped from the steam filled shower, toweling herself off, the sun was high in the sky, beaming down on the Seattle skyline. Once she was [url=https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EdOcr-BAkGc/XVDYoqajGdI/AAAAAAABtpM/386m-LV0Z60Yw_P_abjRV6IYY5qoO2D0wCLcBGAs/s1600/CateBlanchett.jpg]dressed[/url], Hera stepped out of her bedroom and onto her balcony, lighting a cigarette while she gazed down at the streets, wondering which shadows hid the one she sought. 

Many had warned Hera about the dangers of revenge. She hadn’t listened to any of them. Vengeance was the punishment bestowed on those who lied and cheated, slunk their ways through the shadows, those who broke their sacred oaths. It was the way of the world. This murderer had taken two things from her; her son and her dignity. She wouldn’t rest until she’d inflicted the same pain onto him.

Happiness and fulfillment, those would wait until she’d dealt with the rage. When they came, they would not stay long, fleeting friends who never seemed to hold her long enough. It mattered not. She’d begun to accept the pain. Every moment she endured was a test, molding her into a power that would one day refuse to be overtaken. One day, there would be no more shadows for her foes to hide in, and it will have all been worth it. And when that day arrived, heralded by a chorus of her champions, she would not be happy; she would be strong. [/indent][/indent]
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[right][sub]mentions: [@Legion02][/sub][/right][/color]