This [i]would[/i] be the part where an objection ought to go. Were it Zeus before her, she might’ve still found one. But it was [s]unfair[/s] Hestia, and she put into words aches her heart had never thought to speak of, and Vasilia had no one here to hide behind or lean on. Just her, a lifetime of exhaustion, and a jagged little truth.

“So, what now?” She still didn’t want the cocoa. But the warmth of the mug was...pleasant. And it gave her hands something to do. “I regale anyone who’ll listen to my infinite record of regret until I can say what color I’ll paint the garden fence?”

She winced. Only thing she was good at. “Ugh, no, it’s not like…” Like she [i]planned[/i] on not sticking around for the rest of her life. Just. Not something she thought of in much detail. And. Well. The question stood vis a vis painful autobiographies.

*************************************

Forgive the little sheep, if he cannot manage any more divine revelation today. He carefully unpacks every word, arranges them just so, as ordained, they never transform into anything more than words in an odd order. Impossible? Cannot fail? Hadn’t he gotten into this mess by trying to do too many impossible things? But enveloped in the presence of dear Hera, even the lost were acceptable. Especially the lost.

“Who can I even go to with...any of this?” He’s only whispering now, and this too, feels acceptable. “This is, well, it [i]might[/i] be, she’s the Captain. [i]My[/i] Captain. And, a personal matter, such as this…” He couldn’t. How could he? If word got out-! No no no no no, no, a thousand times no. So who...?

(He did not dare close the last inch between them, to rest his head against hers. Such a thing would be far, far above his station. But. He did close one of the two last half-inches. And if she deigned to close the other, she would not hear any complaint from him.)