Melpomene (depressed_muse) wrote in olympian_rewind, @ 2010-04-12 21:28:00 |
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Entry tags: | dante lot, hades, hera, june marris, melpomene, melpomene smith |
Who: Mel, Hera & Hades (with Cererbus)
What: Suicide and Raising of the Dead and attempted Grief Counseling.
Where: Base of a Cliff, Hell, In the Zeus shed at the Little-Lot House
When: Backdated 4/5/2010 Monday Evening
Warnings: Drama. Ichor.
Ew. That was messy.
Mel sat on the top of the cliff, peering down to the rocks below. She didn't know if this was high tide, or low tide, or if the tide even mattered here, but if the tides didn't clean it up, the next storm would. Poor little fishes. That ichor would not be good for the local environment. It'd probably get blamed on an oil spill. Toxic waste. Something extremely horrible and bad. And then there'd be protests. And fighting. Maybe some supposed police brutality charges.
The muse gave a soft contented sigh at the image, and slouched in her spot. So much tragedy from one little thing. It was beautiful. She gazed back down at the broken form of Hera, and wondered if the goddess was actually dead. Was she moving, or was that just the wind? Oh! It would make a great picture! Pulling out the cell phone, Melpomene snapped off a few images. It was rather artistic, the way the body bent at unnatural angles, and how the goddess dress flowed, as if trying to be free. And the ichor, splashed about over the pale skin, a sharp contrast to the everything else about her.
This should be shared.
Quickly she scrolled through her contacts, looking for the right audience. Aiden! Perfect! Plucking his info out and attaching it for the 'to' part of the message, she added simple text as well. 'SPLAT!'. Mhmm. That would work well. Hitting send, she looked down at the body once more. How long would it take for an animal to try to come and eat it?
Hades had decided that he would speak to Hera after dinner. Part of it was him delaying have to face his little sister and dash her hopes, but another part of it was him musing over the right words to tell her the truth. He felt he had finally found them as played the melody from a London After Midnight song. "Fitting. Just when I was thinking of the best tragic words to dash my sister..." he muttered to himself as Cererbus lifted his heads and then put them back down. The phone always caught his attention. The message and the image was big and bright on the iPhone screen. His voice monotoned as he leapt to his feet, "[Come, Cerberus. Someone beat me to the tragedy.]"
The beast leapt to his feet and Hades pulled out his key, dropping the glamour around it to reveal its true nature. "Love," he shouted out to Persephone in the next room, "[Got to go. Hera threw herself off a cliff. Be back late.]" It would have been a joke if it wasn't true, he hadn't been monotoned and he wasn't already walking through the gates of hell with his now-faithful monster. He knew where that cliff was.
That let him walk through the secludes of the pits of Hell and emerge on the other side. In quiet, but total anger, he grabbed the muse by the shoulders, "[What did you do? Cererbus, track and retrieve the ghost if any.]" There better be a ghost. He was done with this no soul business. And it better be walking around. If she had been sucked into Hell...
There was a shriek from the muse at the sudden grip on her shoulders. She'd been busy watching the mess below her, and pondering if she could follow a feeling of tragedy that might be the soul or if it was just her own mind. Either way, everything still seemed to be focused, well, down. Maybe Hera wasn't dead? Or had only died? That was a lot of blood. Was it enough to kill a god? The questions would have to wait though as she turned to look up at Hades. "[She wouldn't let me jump with her!]" the answer was almost a pout before the muse turned to try to look at the body once more. "[You should have seen her try to fly... Like a lover trying to catch the wind, trusting herself to the fall...]"
The muse had just witnessed a tragedy, caused by great tragedy, and could lead to even further tragedy. She was in it deep. Still, it almost called to her. A little taste just made one hungrier. She started to lean forward, as if pondering how best to get down herself.
Hades' anger converted at her words into a deep sorrow that was very familiar to his often afflicted soul. The image of her trying to fly and catching the wind had gotten him. He could understand why... her husband had been king and master of those things and now he was gone. It chilled him inside but did nothing to his determination. "[You're not allowed to jump. We made that deal when I lost everything.]"
He then looked down the cliff, his hellhound had found some sort of path down and stood over the body, letting out a triplicate howl. To others it would mean nothing but Hades understood what it meant. The soul was still in the body... The soul was being stubborn. Good. Maybe it not leaving the body kept Hell from realizing it should be sucked inward.
"[You're staying with me. We're not separating with her dead... Things will only get worse if you leave.]" It wasn't a request. He picked up her up so she could do no where and made his way down as well.
A deal to not jump? She frowned, trying to remember such things, and only recalled the tragic scene as the obedient beast let out his call. She turned to try to glance down once more, distracted, when she was swooped up into Hades' hold. They were headed to the pit of tragedy! The muse giggled at the name, and twisted only to watch their path as they went.
But as they drew closer, perhaps because she was with her uncle, perhaps because she realized how serious the situation was in some way, the muse became quiet and more serious. She looked at the fallen goddess. "[Her path is hidden, from heart and sight, despite her searching, and all her might. The wind calls taunting, with hopes and dreams, so she starts searching, for the means. Off the path, to thorns and pits, falling, tumbling, without a grip. No clear path back without a guide, not ghost but one, to walk her side...]" The words were near whispered, slipping past the muse's lips as a small show to her thoughts. The goddess was so far past lost, Melpomene wondered if there was any solution.
Hades put the muse to her feet as he looked down at the broken body of his sister. She glimmered to his eyes and that was the only comfort he found in any of this. She glimmered... Bending down he picked up her body and glanced to Melpomene. "[Come. You're going into the pits of Hell with me. Fortunately or unfortunately for you, you'll only see the oppressors and not the damned...]"
Melpomene tilted her head slightly at this news, then nodded. Part of her realized just how serious this was, while another part could only see it as something exciting. Finally! A real chance to see Hell! Trying to stay somber and not bounce in her step, she rest her hand on Hera, to show she was ready and would follow. A small shudder ran down her spine. Hell...
It was a terrible irony to Hades that to ensure that Hera's soul wasn't sucked into and lost in the abysses of Hell, he had to take her body and stubborn soul directly into it. It was another irony that to return her to life, he had to bring her to the lands of death. He reached out and touched Melpomene's cheek, letting a little of his power settle into her - enough that the Underworld wouldn't despise her presence nor would she find herself trapped there. He was sure enough that she would be able to resist eating anything... Only then did he turn to the cliff face and open the Gates once more.
He, beast and body walked through the clattering black gates and into both the cool and incredibly hot realm of the damned. The howls of the damned echoed in his ears and against the stone cave walls he entered in. The cave was far from the palace. Hades had used it in his reign to be alone away from prying eyes of shade and servant, now he hoped it would be far enough to keep the demons and monsters from finding them. Not that it helped him last time.
Cerberus stood at the entrance to the cave as Hades laid Hera down on the ground inside.
Mel gazed about her as best she might, taking in the setting of the place, and all that she could not see. She stayed close to her uncle, and turned her attention to what he was doing. She said nothing, only watched, trying to keep herself contained and solemn. It was a hard task when she was nearly bursting with the need to spread the beauty of tragedy about, but she did her best, only occasionally shivering with the attempt to stay still, and focused.
Bringing back the dead wasn't a quick process nor was it an easy process. Even in the Underworld where Hades empowered like with a battery, it still took time and strength. The exertion ripped his glamour from him as he concentrated on the broken body of his sister and her stubborn soul.
And even hidden in the cave, it was too much of a divine presence and outpouring of power to not attract anyone's attention. Even without angelic rulers, the monsters and demons eventually caught wind of the attempt. Cererbus stepped forward, taking on his true, huge nature, growling and readying to defend...
The sound of the growling turned the muse in the direction of the sound. Her eyes widened, and she reached out a hand to lightly touch her uncle's shoulder. She didn't know if he needed any more power, but if he did, she would offer it freely. She couldn't help the quiet giggle that escaped her at the sights before her, at the feeling of everything about. Hell was not a happy place, and the sorrow and suffering within it was almost comfortable to the muse. That should have been a bad thing. "[Tell me how to help,]" she said softly, unsure if she would break concentration with her words.
The soul itself seemed confused. There was something that it wanted, but it did not have awareness of how to gain it, or where to go. The confusion was not a fight directly against Hades, but it did not seem eager either to go where it was before.
Hades glanced up only at the touch on his shoulder. Only then did he notice how the hellhound was growling, readying himself/themselves. Breathing deeply, he managed to choke out, "[If we are being attacked... If Cerberus can fight them off and ...]" He then took another breath and focused. Words came easier when he focused on them, "[Make sure I don't pass out. Last time I did this, I did but last time I did this Thanatos was with me, fighting off the hordes and then opening the exit out. If I go out, you and her are trapped and dead.]"
Dead again when it came to Hera. But he was so close to bringing her back and the confusion of her soul only made it easier for him, merely because he assumed he would have a greater fight on his hands. He brought his attention back solely on her, his black eyes glowing as he spiritually reached into her and shoved it right back into place, cementing the bonds and retying the mystical ties between body and soul. His power, and more importantly his divine life, coursed into her leaving no more room for the death that had clouded it. That death was forced to bleed out of her and into the Underworld which sustained him and converted back into divine life for him.
And most importantly, he could hear her heart beating in his skull as he began to tremble, growing light-headed and dizzy, but he held firm. His distance hearing was gone. He couldn't hear how the hellhound had begun to tear into enemies who tried to assault the cave. It was all ironic. Cererbus had been the greatest threat last time he had successful resurrected a dead god and now he was the greatest ally, which was fine by the Dark One. Being dragged out of the cave by a harpy and dropped hadn't been much fun. He looked down at his sister, her body still battered but better off than it had been with an exhausted smirk, "[Told you I could bring back the dead.]"
Heart beating, lungs attempting to work, her body trying to function properly, and all Hera could do was gasp, eyes widening, then cringe and try to hold still. Pain. Pain was what she was first aware of, her body protesting what she had done to it. Protesting, but not in complete revolt if she was alive. The confusion of the soul was finding itself trying to organize the mind, to make sense of what was happening about it. Still, pain was the most notable. Eyes closed, sounds became the second. Instinctively, she began to separate things out and decide what they were. Such as words. And voice.
Hera opened her eyes only a crack, giving her brother a very narrow eyed gaze. A retort should be made, but it seemed beyond her ability. Her glare would have to be enough.
Just past Hades, Mel still stood, her hand upon his shoulder. So little that the muse could do, and yet, she did the one thing that was most logical. She channeled him some of her power. It was likely to be tainted with tragic inspiration, but it could hardly be helped. And if raising the dead wasn't a form of tragic art, she would need to have a serious conversation with whoever was making up the rules. The hardest part was controlling herself, and not simply dumping it all on him. That was what he had implied about passing out, wasn't it? Well, if it wasn't, he could yell at her for it later. Just now, she was rolling her lips and watching the drama with the Cererbus. She almost itched to run up to him and find a way to pat him on each of his heads. It was a bad idea, and still she wanted to do it.
The tragic inspiration that tainted the boost of power had its effect in making him truly understand the little scene that was before him. His sister was waking back into life in the pits of Hell and his mind rebelled against the fact. He picked her up gently and, easing her face to his chest, kept it there so her vision would be blocked. Even though they were in a cave, he wouldn't let her see this place. It was bad enough the moans and wails of the damned could be heard by all. Mel was different. This place was the epitome of Mel's art, not Hera's life.
He concentrated now, even as he now could hear and understand the battle going on outside of the cave. He could even make out some of it. The harpies had found them first but a demon squad was close behind being lead by an ogre. Stupid ogres, they had begrudgingly served him when he reigned and now, it seemed, they took glee in trying to stamp him out. The fact that this one had managed to gain command of some of the Christian demons was just a new twist. He could see Cererbus grabbed weapons and limbs in his great maws and tossing them away, poisoning others with the paralytic, painful venom from his many-headed snake tailed, but he wasn't always successful. His growls were intermixed with whimpers. He was being surrounded, flanked and... Hades concentrated and opened the Gates again in his exhaustion. They had to escape. Now.
The problem was, Hades wasn't quite sure he could move just yet. "[Mel, help me through.]" He then called out to the beast, "[Cererbus, come!]"
Hades asking for help was not what would be considered good. The words snapped Melpomene's attention back to him, and she looked to see what would be the best form of aid. The gates were open, the goal clear. Shifting her hand on his shoulder, she moved so she could stand behind him, sliding her arms beneath his. It was awkward as he still held Hera, but if the muse had to drag him out instead of merely supporting him, then so be it.
Within Hades' hold, his sister closed her eyes once more. She dared not move more than she must, as every jarring of her body brought renewed awareness of her pain. Small gasps and hisses and whimpers slipped out, the protests of a body that had been broken.
Despite this, Mel did her best. She focused on her goal, on what was another beacon of tragedy outside of the gate, rather than the misery and home of forms of tragedy that was around her. Somehow, they all got through, with Cererbus coming last.
Still Mel did not completely release her uncle. Her eyes turned to look about her, her nose taking in the scent. And as she recognized the pieces, the whole picture snapped into art within her mind. She dropped down to the floor, and smiled a bit. Funeral herbs. A coffin like structure. Tragedy that seemed to be waiting, building as Hera arrived, holding for the break that was coming.
Her father's body was here.
It was late, passed midnight when they emerged into the outdoor shed that had been housing Zeus for so long. Not that there was a clock to inform them of that fact. With the scent of the mint and thyme around them and the cool earth beneath them, Hades let himself lower down to the ground. The gates closed behind Cerberus, who knew from experience now to shrink down to a more manageable size before rushing through. The beast helped the muse ease his/their master to the ground.
Sitting now, Hades laid Hera beside him, letting a gentle touch sweep her hair from her face. They would do something about the dried ichor on her later. "[Welcome back to the world of the living, Little Sister,]" he murmured.
Slowly eyes opened to look up to her brother, tears near forming there. She had been trying to escape this, to get past it, to find a release... And now, once more, she was back in the prison of life. A widow still. "[I did not wish to come back,]" she rasped out in stuttering return.
Hades knew why people committed suicide, especially widows. So many of them had crossed his throne during his reign, so many of them sought to find an escape for their pain and depression. Or they did so to join their husband in death. So many of them didn't understand that for the majority of them there escape would be forced ignorance. Their reunions shallow and futile. For Hera it was worse and he reached over and wiped her tears away with the tips of her fingers, "[Where you were going was no escape for the pain or loss. There are no reunions. He wouldn't want you to go there... And wandering as a ghost is no better for you. A life of futility. Little sister, listen to your older brother...]" His voice was soft, not just from weakness but from compassion. His baby sister had just been wrestled from death and she didn't understand the gift. "[Death is no escape.]"
He glanced over to Mel, the memory returning to him when he had slit his own wrists, the scars clear on his forearms with his glamour still stripped away from him. But he wasn't escaping the pain with the idea it would get better. He had just declared that were was nothing more in life... Maybe Hera thought so, too... But he had learned that wasn't true. Life moved on and found its ways.
Mel felt the gaze upon her, and turned to look at her uncle. Her eyes scanned over the scars, and she looked to her own body, as though expecting to find them there as well. Scars were no mystery to the muse in general, and in the case, even less so. Perhaps following her own line of thought, perhaps reading something from Hades, Mel's eyes went up to his, and she shrugged. "No gun." she mouthed. Reaching out slowly, she traced one of his scars, then moved across to sit on Hera's other side. Lightly, ghosting almost, her nimble fingers danced over the places where bones had broken and ichor had been lost. She couldn't help but be drawn close to the goddess.
Hera ignored the muse, only responding to her as the touches made her flinch. Her eyes were still on her brother, the small strength she once had to stay strong in the sight of others, gone. One tear may have been wiped away, but another just as quickly appeared. "[I have no life, brother. When there is no life, there is only death.]" she whispered. "[I cannot live when I am dead.]"
"No gun." He lipped back to Mel, as if drawing strength from the words and clearer insight from the whole affair. It had all seemed so dark and futile when he had slit his own wrists and waited until he was certain a gunshot would kill him... Mel hadn't been as good of an advocate for Hera as she had been for him. She had talked him out of the attempt... Hades shifted and eased Hera into his arms as they laid side by side on the ground, not taking her from the muse's touch however. From his previous exertion of returning her to life, his body was warm as if the chill of death was removed from him for the moment. It would be back, but for now... "[I know how you feel. To lose everything you have ever loved, to lose everything you have defined yourself by. I have been there, Little Sister. Melpomene can testify of it. I'm not one to say things like that just to offer sympathy... I have been where you are.]" Worse even, as at least Hera's loss hadn't been brought about by betrayal like when Persephone had left him for the Devil, but he wouldn't say that. It would all even as Zeus wasn't coming back... "[You have life. I gave it to you. You don't have hope, but you'll find it.]"
"[My heart may beat again, but this is no life.]" She did not have the will to fight him, nor any interest to draw close and be comforted. "[There is no hope for life.]" Her eyes closed, and she fought for control over her own voice. "[He is dead, Hades. My husband, my brother, my lover. All are gone, and you say now beyond my reach. I am no longer wife, nor queen, nor mother. There is nothing left to me, that was not because of him.]" For days, weeks, she had been over this argument with herself, and not found one thing that she was that was not because of him. Her very freedom and life was because her husband had freed all his siblings. Only she had been bound to him so closely though.
"[So vast a tragedy...]" Melpomene breathed, continuing to find each little wound within reach as she nestled herself at Hera's side. Each little wound, each little expression of the great, overwhelming feeling of loss... She threaded bits of power back into the goddess. Let her speak, let her weep, let her find her medium and release. Let her body heal without her consent. Mel had never given her consent to jump, so she sought none in return.
"[You are still a mother. No one and nothing can take that from you...]" He murmured by instinct. He knew there were children of hers in the city limits even that loved her... Children who hadn't paid enough attention to her clearly. He would have words with Ares eventually but now he couldn't think of them. His little sister was in his arms broken body and soul. "[You're right. It's not. Life will find you when you least expect it but it will find you. Zeus isn't the end of you, just an end to that part of your life.]"
"[Not part of my life. He was my life.]" Why did no others see this? She was a mother in name, and Ares had done all he could to try to help her. But she knew the truth. He did not need her. He would be just as well without her about. Just as all her other children were fine without her. Her part in their lives was done.
The incense in the air, the cool earth beneath, the technicality of being two feet below the ground, the not losing power and life at an incredibly fast rate all made Hades feel strong enough just enough to sit up, cradling his sister against him. If she wasn't so broken, he would shake her as an irrational anger began to burn deep inside of him. She was so stubborn and Zeus had never deserved her loyalty. But his anger cooled just as quickly as it flared up. It had taken him months to come out of his despair and Zeus' soul would never be at true rest. His anger couldn't help but cool. He took a deep breath and kissed his sister's forehead, "[I gave you new life. You'll find a way, just like I had to...]" He didn't suggest the path he had taken... "[Besides, you don't have a choice. I won't let you die. As long as I have breath in me... I couldn't bring him back but I'm not losing you, too.]"
Part of that snapped Hera from her own thoughts. Not a lot, but enough to turn and face her brother more directly. She seemed to search his eyes, trying to decide why what he said now was anything different. Finally, she realized what it was, and she did not know how to respond. "[Why?]" she asked, a fresh wave of grief, a renewed feeling of anger, a taste of guilt all once more coming to her. "[Why could you bring me back and not him? Why does he remain dead while I must be forced to live?]" What made her so different from her husband? Was it the lack of a child within her own head? That there was no one who needed her death for their own life? Or the mere reason that the Fates saw fit to deal such a blow for no reason they chose to give.
Melpomene shifted as the others did, but only to rest her head on the former queen's lap. She could easily brush against Hades here, and drew a finger over his legs, then over Hera's, as if testing the difference in feel. She heard what was happening and understood the words, but there was nothing for her to add aloud. To Hera, she was beneath notice.
Hades brought his eyes to the preserving coffin as he smoothed his hand along her back, "[Because in that coffin is just muscle, bone and skin. I can make it breathe and it's heartbeat I might even be able to get his brain to have minor waves but that isn't life. His soul isn't there. I would have hunted the globe and the pits of Hell to find yours, but there's no where for me to hunt for his. I can't grab it.]"
He was saying Zeus had no soul for him to find. No soul for hers to join with. No soul...
She should have known, and understood better. Her husband was dead, but this was even more than that. Her husband was not merely dead. He was destroyed. Gone. Vanished. Breathing became even harder for her, and she turned her eyes from Hades, knowing not where to look. The coffin would give her nothing. There would be no ghost to sadly nod and say it was true, or smile to encourage that it was okay. No soul, no ghost, no hope. Only then did she admit to herself that it was his soul that had been her remaining hope, her remaining thread of identity, the part that she was reaching for in the only form she could think of. Her own death.
As this last hope shattered, so did the remnants of her walls. Her grief broke free, tearing loose as she began to wail, tears streaming her face, hands clawing for something, and knowing not what they sought, or sought to do.
Only then did Melpomene sit up, moving to allow the other goddess the space she needed, and sit back. She looked calm, but satisfied with herself. A little nudge, and just the right words, and finally Hera was ready to release. It was, at least, a start. Only now did she see how truly far rock bottom was.
Hades had accepted the possibility of being the villain in this whole affair. He likewise accepted being something to claw at. He wrapped his arms around his sister. As Mel sat up to give her the space she needed, Hades did the opposite -- remaining close. She felt alone in a hopeless situation but she wasn't alone. At least Hera had found rock bottom. There was only one way to go from here....
The muse had known that Hades would move close. It had been the only reason she had moved away. And while Hera clung to him, weeping and sobbing against him, she did not notice how much better her body moved. She did not care about the pain, or the dried ichor, she did not pay attention to how she was possibly scratching her brother and causing him pain herself. All that she could do was gasp for breath between sobs, exhausting herself even further.
It was a long time before she able to cease, and it was more due to physical limits than true mental capability. Even then she clung to her brother, not daring to move away. "[I can't do this, Hades,]" she murmured into his chest. "[He's gone. I am nothing... What can I do?]"
Hades could hear it in her tone, see it in her demeanor and he wished he could fight her sadness and make it go away. He wished he could be more comforting, or tell her how to carry on, but he didn't know. His own emergence from despair hadn't been something of his own choice. It had just happened after things actually managed to get worse... "[Nothing. I won't lie to you. The pain... the loss, it doesn't go away. But it gets better. Life comes in and distracts you away from it, builds over the hole in your heart....]"
"[I have no life to build over it,]" she whispered. She could never return to her home, it was too filled with her husband. She could not go back to her job. That, too, was twined with being a wife, and the goddess of wives. She had no interest in society, in mortals and their little affairs, in playing the wise one among all the fools. There was no place for her. She had seen that all those little holes were well covered over before she went flying.
"[It's not something you do. You just have to let it happen,]" he whispered in reply. He would see to it that she wouldn't have to return to that home, that job... any of that. That was all things easily handled with money and influence. He was more concerned about the more difficult and the more important part of all of this, "[Little Sister, you don't have to believe me. I know you won't.]" Hades knew it for a fact, but he continued on, "[Just trust me. It'll get better.]"
She sniffed slightly, fighting back the urge to cry once more. She was drained, emotionally and physically. The future, to her, was nothing but a great nothing. Her brother would not let her go back, and knowing her husband was not there, the appeal was far less. But there was no where to go forward as well. Her brother had his lover, his children, and parts that were his domain. Perhaps he had lost them for a time, but they had come back to him. Her husband was dead. And while before she might have been able to hold hope that he would return, that illusion was no longer there. Everything was truly, fully lost to her. "[... I have no more domain.]" She had asked who she was, and danced about the statement time and again, but now, she spoke it aloud. And if felt that much more real, and true. With no spouse, who could she be the goddess of wives? With no crown, how could she even pretend to be a queen? She was a mother, but so were many, many other goddesses. Clenching her eyes tight, she gripped her brother and tried only to breathe.
Melpomene glanced to her uncle, and started to lean forward, preparing to brush back her aunt's hair. But she gave him a chance to speak first, before Hera would most likely not hear him.
Hades only had one more thing to say, knowing that she would hear nothing anyhow. Knowing that she couldn't hear anything. "[Little Sister, I promise you, you won't have to endure the futility forever. Either life will build over the hole in your heart or I'll make sure you forget it was ever there ...]" A dark knowledge flickered against his eyes as he spoke it, the solution he had come up with when his own pain had grown so terrible and he had only chosen against it because he believed it would hurt those he loved and all his crimes would be told to him without the context of his own experience to make them make sense but for her? Maybe forgetting everything would actually help her if nothing else did... Maybe drinking from the Lethe River would help but the promise was vague enough to make it truly an act of last resort.
There was an uncharacteristic of hope in Hades for Hera... only created from going through his own suicidal blindness. The pain didn't stop but he knew distractions came and comforts appeared to make life worth trying again. "[But trust your brother right now. It will get better.]"
Sadly, that was his definition of better.
Seeing him ready, Melpomene reached forward, and petted the back of Hera's head. She then moved, leaning in, and kissed her crown. It was so easy to tell how tired she was, and it was easy for even the muse to know what would happen.
Hera resumed crying, reacting on instinct rather than thought. Her mind was filled with knowledge that she wished to reject, with the clarity that she desired to lose. Some did not crawl out from the pit they found themselves in, instead dieing and decaying there. That was the only solution that Hera could see, and she would have welcomed anything for its darkness.
And that is what the muse prepared to grant her. Release. "[Release,]" she whispered into her aunt's hair, as the goddess clung to her brother. Release... And Hera did. And in a time that was almost quick, the goddess had cried herself to sleep, to exhaustion, with tears still filling her eyes.
Summary: Hera has thrown herself off a cliff (scene of this to possibly come). Mel was witness and... informs... Hades. Hades shows up and goes about the work of bringing her back from the dead, and trying to show her how pointless it is to try again.