The champagne Dionysus served her had stayed with her, clinging to her like rain, filling her with a freedom and giddiness she'd rarely ever felt. It seemed to her that the weight of her life on the mortal plane had slipped away from her. In its place was only lightness.

It was through this lightness that she ascended, not smoothly or easily, and certainly with no simple thought. The truth was that she couldn't remember anything of Olympus -- but with the need of humanity set aside from her now, she could focus on the part of her that belonged in the company of those on the Mountain. And on this she focused.

The great, marbled glory of Olympus unfolded at last, at last, slowly, until it was solid before her, solid under her feet. When she was sure she had arrived, Elpis let out the breath she'd been holding... and then laughed. It was even more beautiful than she'd imagined! And the color! And the light! The light was nothing like she'd ever seen on Earth! The light! She threw her arms wide and tossed her head back, and laughed, and spun, and laughed.

His mind was full of... possibilities. So it was here that he found himself. How many times had he taken hold of her, and she of him? How many times had that promise been made? Eternity was a word that humans did not truly understand. To want an eternity was not the same thing as knowing it was yours. Knowing and understanding all of the various ways such a thing could sour. If they truly understood what an age was, and all of the pain such a thing could contain, they wouldn't want life eternal. Some understood, at the end. Some were glad for an end to this suffering. Akheron could not hope for such a thing.

And in any case, hope was not his duty.

His thoughts lingered on Styx. On his wife. No longer his wife. If this Erebos could be believed... he was nothing more than a shadow. Stuffed full of the memories of a real being and then left here to rot. Akheron did not understand how such a thing could be real. Who would do this? Why would they do this? It was a strange sort of destiny visited upon him. To know that everything he'd had was in its right place - including him. Yet here he was. There must have been a reason. There must have been a reason that any of them would do this.

As it had been upon his first visit - this place was wrong. Styx was not ostentatious. This was something of a display. A show for those who came to see. Akheron imagined that ... in another life, another place, such things were possibly needed. Perhaps even required. Such a place was not the sort of world for which his heart longed. What was it about this wild, impetuous creature that drew him back to her? To her home? She was no more his wife than he was home.

Yet here he was.

He supposed the river, which ringed the whole of the place, was the same. As a younger self he'd imagined immersing his hand in it. Just to see. But the fire and pain of his own river gave him pause every time. For him the water was life. For another the water was torment without end. Akheron had imagined what it would be like to try it. She had never said a word of it to him. Yet he sometimes thought those small moments, when she looked at him, she knew what he was thinking. Perhaps even enjoying it.

Part of him wanted this other Styx to find him here. Part of him wanted her to be as outraged. Part of him wanted... to what? To share with her, as he'd always done? Any fool could see that she was not as she was supposed to be. The very idea of sharing something with her was outrageous beyond words. A stranger. He wished he could have said why he had come here. Akheron knew frailty of all kinds. Rest was essential. His mind was not following its usual patterns.

Stress, and fear.

How long since he'd been afraid?

Pale, rough fingers traced the iron of that stairwell she admired so. She must have admired it - the thing was hideous and impractical. She would be here soon enough, and no doubt angry at him for having entered without permission for a second time.

Things felt off. Empty, somehow. But Oi had no idea how to explain any of it. She wasn't even sure that the discomfort she was feeling was real. Paranoia was not new to her. She'd wound herself up more than once over her lifetime, and at the peril of many of Lottie's things. Usually, though, that kind of suspicion had a certain feel to it. It was triggered by something. This was ... well. This was new.

Oi looked for familiar faces first, her sisters, her brothers, her parents, she felt some of them around, but found nobody close by. It got to the point that she needed to not be in the Underworld anymore.

Thinking of the most calming place that she could, Oizys decided that she would spend some time by the ocean. There were some pretty interesting gods out there, she knew, some of them Olympians, but it was vast, very open. She hoped that she could at least avoid them or not be seen by them. Or maybe they'd see her and just not give a shit. That would be okay, too.

She'd promised Lottie that she would try to stop thinking of Olympians as bad just because they resided on the mountain. She'd also done her best to stop thinking of foreign gods as the enemy. She'd met Bast and Bast had... well. Bast had opened her world in a new and interesting way. Bast had shown Oizys things that she'd never known were even possible. The cat goddess had freed Misery of some of her self inflicted confines. If only she'd met Bast before she'd picked up with Kratos, maybe their relationship would have worked.

The sea pounded the sand as she walked and thought.

Dallas, Texas. Ares stood on the sidewalk outside Dakota's Steakhouse and eyed the goddess at his side. She had his jacket in her arms, so he reached out and tugged the damned thing on again. Jackets required, the sign said. And behind those glass doors, behind the tinkering of glasses and laughter, the God of War sensed something far more important than perfect ribeyes -- his brother. The only Olympian Ares could pinpoint. The only temple on the mountain that had seemed lived-in, when Ares arrived.

When the god walked in, the maître d' straightened immediately. "You must be Mr. Ares," the man said, looking for all the world like he wanted to swallow his tongue. Only what sounded to be his staunch British background kept the man from stuttering. Ares smirked to himself. It was a petty thing, to overwhelm mortals with his presence... but it was still fun. The smirk continued until he realized that the man hadn't been looking at him, but rather at the blonde on his arm. His grimace returned.

"That's me," he said flatly.

"Right this way, sir... miss," the mortal said, and led them both back to a glass door. Beyond it, a great empty patio spread itself out in front of them -- empty, but for a single, posh table with four placements. The chairs were leather-upholstered, the tablecloth expensive and white and smooth. Wine chilled in its bucket on its stand beside the table. And Ares' very, very pretty brother Apollo sat with a glass between his fingers.

No light marred the chamber where they lay, she and he, the Darknesses of two worlds. Erebos had drawn into existence a great bed swathed in black cotton softness for his chosen consort to enjoy. Ereshkigal insisted that they enjoy it together - and so they had. Tonight, he lay beside the Sumerian queen, his arm anchoring her against his chest. Every so often, his fingers traced the line of fine bones descending down the center of her back. Every so often, he brushed the silk of her hair and listened to her humming her pleasure of it.

He could not quantify the amount time they had spent together like this. What he knew was that it was a good span. What he knew was that it had filled him with a feeling he'd all but forgotten: contentment. He was not inclined to leave this place soon.

Despite his constant attention to the goddess at his side, the Darkness continued to monitor his family. He was concerned for Akheron. For Styx. Deimos seemed to be doing well. Oizys was still out on her own. He would need to see to her soon. But as his consciousness slid from child to child, a sizzle of awareness drew his attention sharply.

"What is it?" a silent, feminine voice purred against his mind. He slid his hand down Ereshkigal's back in response to the hint of concern he felt in her.

"My daughters," he responded in kind, and then wordlessly shared the awareness that had come to him -- along with the excitement and delight that hardly anyone would ever have seen in his face.

"Go," the sweet, inky voice whispered in response. It was a command, but it was the tenderness that drove him. He sat up, gently (regretfully) disentangling his limbs from Ereshkigal's, and left a kiss on her forehead.

Moments later, Erebos appeared just at the door where his three daughters had manifested. Dressed in a black suit with a black shirt and tie, and dress shoes that drank in the light, he knocked. And waited. His face was stony -- but his eyes were positively alive with joy.

The world was changed. Nanshe felt it through her bones, the tiny shifts in what she knew as reality, the change in her mortals, the absence of her family... Her home just outside Delhi was still filled with her widows, her orphans -- but there were little things that weren't the way Nanshe recalled. A few of her widows had slid from the mortal plane into the Sumerian Underworld, having succumbed to the circumstances she recalled having saved them from before. And then there was the matter of the world itself. It was so clean, so beautifully fresh, with none of the pollution she'd grown used to over the years.

It was unsettling. Nice...in some ways... but unsettling. Her mother was rarely in form, choosing to spend most of their time in Concept instead, working silently and unseen in the world. But she expected to find Enki, somewhere... Enki, her father, who loved humanity fiercely, like Nanshe herself. Enki, who was wise and clever and full of magic and strength. And yet, when she sought out the connection with the Lord of the Earth, she found nothing... nothing.

Venice was Enki's favorite haunt. It was a long shot but Nanshe didn't wait. From her bedroom in Delhi, she went, appearing instead in St. Mark's Square a moment later. The human buzz of activity was all around her -- but no sense of her father came to her. A great sense of loss began to filter through her.

She walked in the sun and tried to piece together just what might have happened. Nothing in her vast experience could help her now.

Fuck, this was fucking ridiculous.

After having all but wrecked Edinburgh, after having taken Phobos back to her temple in Haides, Styx actually fucking believed that things would be different. She'd believed that maybe, just fucking once, shit wouldn't have to be so fucking complicated. He'd seemed to want her. He had wanted her. But here, this fucking feeling was why she knew better than to believe him. Phobos. Panic. A warrior, an Olympian who should've been an Underworlder, one who balanced between the two worlds -- perhaps not quite like she did, but pretty fucking close. And it'd been months since she'd seen him.

A span of months wasn't anything to a goddess -- unless that goddess had expected more than just...

Disgusted with herself, disgusted with Phobos, disgusted with the whole sordid lot of her pantheon, Styx slid sideways onto the mortal plane and materialized on a green metal bench looking out over a stretch of grass. They called this place Central Park, and it was usually filled with people. That meant there was almost always something to tug on, something to feel. Hate was embedded in humanity, and if she didn't get overt temples, hymns, and sacrifices these days, that didn't mean that humanity had forgotten how to worship her. She'd take it. She was fucking pathetic enough at this moment to take it.

There was nothing wrong, Elpis thought, in a little experimentation. Bound to the earth, she was, by her own heart's vow long ago when the world was yet young. She'd spent the whole of her long life in service to humanity, bringing them the one thing she knew perfectly: hope. She called many cities her home. This decade, it was Detroit where she spent most of her time. But there was nothing wrong, nothing wrong indeed, with doing a little exploring. She wouldn't always stay in Detroit after all.

And there was also the thought that perhaps, in her wandering on the earth, she could find another deity - someone who was something like her, as well. She felt, when she concentrated hard enough, the movements of other divinities on the mortal plane. Without thinking too hard on what those gods might think of an unannounced visitor, she picked a place - Hollywood, this time, where the hope was just a strong, if not a little different from Detroit - and slid her presence there instead.

Detroit was cold this time of year, but Hollywood was far more balmy. The jacket she was wearing almost immediately came off. She slung it over one shoulder, and then started walking on the street where she found herself. There was another god here. She was determined to find him.

Aphrodite rather preferred her time among the mortals. More so than with most of her fellow equals, as most would say. As she would say. Yes mortals were not exactly on equal standing with her but she loved them. So interesting! With lives so easy to play with. To bend. And then they were simply fascinating to watch live their little lives. Thinking how important they are in their own world. But she couldn’t always spend her time there.

So she came to her second beautiful home. Her beautiful home which...Which didn't feel right. Didn't seem right.

Now, of course, she could have went straight to her own temple. Could have spent some time in her own home on Olympus. But she had this feeling that she should go a different direction and when she reached Ares’ temple her eyes took it all in. Something just wasn't as it should be and she frowned. But he was there at least. She could feel him Ensuring that she looked perfect, blonde hair curled gently against her shoulders and white dress clinging just right, she cleared her throat and called out.

"Ares?" She wouldn't let herself seem weak but things felt so strange. Strange enough that she felt perhaps a little comfort was needed. Or distractions. Ares would be good enough.