[b]Bella! Redana![/b]

One might grow tired, taking an inventory of every waterlogged room aboard the Plousios. There are only so many ways to say a room is filled with crabs, saltwater, and crabs (in saltwater). Barely any are crab-free. Fewer still boast fresh water. And of those, perhaps only one gets its supply via waterfall.

By some miracle of Engine, evaporation, and the inscrutable whims of time and gods, a seemingly endless supply of piping hot water flows from overhead, glittering as it splashes down a rock face and into a pool below. Just deep enough to sit upon the smooth stones that make its bed, and rest your head on its banks. The air hangs hot and hazy here, wisps of steam curling as they float by. The pool drains out of a long stream, fast-flowing, but shallower still. By this supply, grass grows green and soft underfoot - though you will hardly feel it yourself, borne here as you were on stretchers. Overhead, a solitary tree stretches out its branches, and flowers drift lazily down to settle on the water’s surface. Above, the ceiling glitters with some trace memory of Hades’ treasures. The light is warm here. All is warm here.

What luck, that a sheep should stumble on such a place many months ago, while out for an evening stroll. A fine spot, for hearts to meet. And now, to mend.

Awake, o dreamers. Awake, and feel the stream running all around you, washing your wounds clean, and carrying away the grime of battle. Awake, to the careful hands of Beautiful and Beljani, your sisters, your companions, peeling away layers of shredded, matted clothes. Sit in the pools together; there is room enough for you all. Watch the shining lights of the Lanterns reflected in the rippling waters. Call to Jil, and you will have many hands to help you in, out, across, to wherever you please. Mouse or marble, they are here for you. Stretch out your hand, and Dolce will be there, with a tray of ice-cold beverages in a rainbow of colors and flavors. Each one ready to help replenish your broken bodies. Keep the tiny umbrellas, if you like; we have plenty. And don’t worry if you mistake him for a towel. When next you see him, his wool will be as fluffy and light as ever.

You have fought so hard, just to hold yourselves together. To hold each other together. Now, you need not even fight to keep warm. 

Sit. Drink. Rest, all of you. Four sisters, and the princess who is their center. If your efforts have not earned you a hot bath, then there is no justice on Olympus.

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

Finishing touches. Always takes longer than you’d think. Inch by inch, Dolce turns the cake on its pedestal, piping out decorations as he goes.

“I hadn’t forgotten.” He stops. Closes one eye, to sight his aim. “Just. Hadn’t thought of it in the same breath, yet. My birthday’s in a month. We cross the Rift in a week.”

He has an entire palette to choose from, each in their own piping bag. And only so much counter space within reach. He wheels to the side. He selects another. He wheels himself back. “I know the day will still come. But, it’s not the same. If you don’t remember to make it special.”

If you don’t have people in your life to make it special.

"...the Master would be 26 that day."