Hestia (heart_h) wrote in olympian_rewind, @ 2010-04-25 20:27:00 |
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Entry tags: | hera, hestia, june marris, melpomene, tessia sloac |
Who: Hera, Hestia, and some Melpomene
What: Grief counseling. ... Okay, not really.
Where: Hades' home.
When: BACKDATED to April 14th, evening.
Warnings: None
Gently, Hestia knocked on the door. She had come as soon as she had gotten the text; even before Hades had replied, she was getting into the car, bringing the twins with her. She left them in the care of their father once she arrived and nearly ran upstairs. Pausing only to take a breath in front of the door to calm her own wild emotions, she called softly, "Hera. [Sister]. Are you awake?"
The room that Hestia had been directed to was not used only by Hera, but also, perhaps mostly, by the muse that was also under Hades watch. So when the call came, there was stirring on the other side, but no real answer. The door was unlocked, and easy to open.
"Hera?" ... Perhaps she wasn't able to answer. A sudden surge of panic coursed through her. What if...?! "Hera!" Hestia pushed the door open harder than needed. If her sister was indeed hurting herself, she'd plan to keep the door backed up. So when it flung open and smacked the opposite wall, hard, she froze. Fear subsided into feelings of foolishness. "Um."
Hera was sitting on a couch within the room, and turned at the sound of someone entering. She arched an eyebrow for a brief moment, before turning away again.
The room was like an art studio. Large canvases were painted and scattered about the space, trays and tubes of paint left standing on many covered surfaces. Sketch pencils, charcoal, pastels... All that an artist could want for color was within sight of the door, and the work it had been put to as well.
The artist was slightly hidden though, her head on Hera's lap, curled up much like a child, passed out. Center, directly facing the couch, was one of her pieces. A black backdrop for most of it, a woman haloed in gold was in the center, her back to the observer, then scattered about in slightly golden, ghosted images, was an array of other images. A peacock with a many eyed monster hiding behind the tail; a group of others, all turning away; a crown, crashing and scattering on an unseen ground; a male figure outlined far ahead of her. There was more, hints of other things lost, filling the space. Behind the primary canvas though, were others. If the one in the center was for Hera, there were canvases for Hades and Zeus, Melpomene and Apollo and perhaps others. All had a primary figure, all had everything awash in black with only parts drawn to stand out in contrast, though still haunted. There was a clear theme of depicting things lost, some subtle, some blatant.
The muse had been busy.
She really had been... Hestia stood and stared blankly for a moment, caught off guard. But she shook her head and walked towards her younger sibling and niece. "Hera... I'm sorry to barge in. I was... worried."
"Oh? And why is that, [sister]?" Hera asked, sounding slightly bored, uninterested. There was little that she found interesting just now.
"About you," Hestia clarified, stepping closer to the couch but not yet sitting down.
"I assumed you were not worried about the curtains," she stated dryly.
The elder goddess winced a bit. No, she should have expected this. But it still stung to see her so... so... without life. Her eyes teared up and she sat beside Hera, taking her by the hand. "[I'm so sorry]," she whispered. She didn't know what else to say.
Sorry, so sorry... People were often sorry for things. Mostly things they could not change. As though it were some band aid to hide the injury. But sorry did not change things, more often than not. So Hera only nodded slightly, accepting the words. There was little else to be said.
Hestia couldn't help the tears that sprung to her eyes and trailed down her cheeks. And she felt guilty for it; how could she cry when Hera was facing the most unimaginable pain any of them could think of? Carefully, she took Hera's shoulders and head, and held her against her. "[It will be okay. I promise. If I have to move the earth and sea and sky itself, I will help you. Ask anything of me, sister, I will do my best,]" she murmured.
She allowed her sister to pull her close, but it was only through thought that she found any reasonable way to respond. She was past tears, they had been shed for days already. She had sought any answer she could think of, and found none. Her husband was gone, and there was nothing that could be done to bring him back. That was appallingly clear. So for now she stayed quiet, letting her sister go through the gestures.
"[Is there anything you want?]" Hestia asked quietly, stroking Hera's hair. "[Anything I can do for you?]"
"[Hades has seen that I need nothing,]" Hera stated, except the return of my husband. "[All other affairs have been tended to.]"
"[Do... do you want to talk?]" Hestia was simply unsure what to do. They had never been forced to confront a death in this family... especially on such a scale. But she wanted to comfort, that much was obvious, and she wanted to be sure that Hera was going to recover.
Recover? Had such a thing been suggested out loud, it would have been laughable. Despite the words of her brother, Hera did not see how her life would be much of a life, of how she would continue on. At some point, she assumed, she would at least move from her brother's home, though to do what she was unsure. Perhaps find a simple house somewhere in a mountain, far away from everyone and everything, where she could sit and speak with the wind. Even knowing the sky was no longer truly his domain, that there was no soul, no ghost, to hear her words and respond... Perhaps that would be the best way to spend her forever. She had considered it many times over, and simply not yet spoken the wishes aloud. Hades could easily grant her such a wish if he chose, the fear she had was that he would not, and chose instead to keep her where he could always keep watch over her.
"[There is nothing to discuss,]" she replied, pulling away slightly to sit straight. The muse on her lap shifted and settled, and Hera absently petted her hair. It was an odd strength of will that kept her sitting there, and not tearing about through the art.
Hestia glanced to the youngest goddess among them. She had nearly forgotten she was there; she almost seamlessly molded in with the room. "[If I may ask... why are you here?]"
"[Because this is where Hades brought me.]" It was a simple enough answer.
Oh. Hm. "[I mean... why aren't you at home?]"
Hera turned to look at her sister. For a long moment, she truly wondered if Hestia had understood what she had just asked. "[Would you be at the home of your forever gone husband?]"
"[... I suppose not,]" Hestia murmured, feeling stupid and looking away. "[I'm sorry. That was insensitive. I just... I hate to see you in so much pain... I want to help you.]"
Reaching up to brush away some of her sister's earlier tears, Hera held them where they could almost be examined. "[You appear to be in greater distress than I.]"
Hestia laughed dryly. "[I can't hide my emotions at all. I'm sorry. I came here to comfort you!]"
"[My husband and king are dead,]" she stated. It was becoming an automatic response, a statement of truth that she was attempting to take the sting out of. And mostly failing. "[My brother as well. I have no further use, and no way to cease being. When people cease having a need for home and hearth, then perhaps you can see what comfort can be given.]"
"[That's not true!]" Hestia took her sister's hands tightly in hand, tugging to try and get Hera to look at her. "[You are always of use. We will find something, I promise. But you are still of worth, to so many of us.]"
She did turn to look at her, but it was with little belief. Did Hestia think she had no considered such things? That Hades had not spoken to attempt to show her? Only the muse seemed to have had anything of help, suggesting that there were many widows within the world, and as a mother to War, it was a fitting enough title to accept. But Hera had little concern for the grieving widows of the world, and did not seek to give them comfort, when she herself found none. There was no comfort, and she would not bring false hope. "[My worth is as a sister, and I am not the only one.]"
Hestia fell silent again, trying to think. She wanted so badly to hope. "[It is not as it used to be,]" she murmured, treading carefully, "[you could remarry.]"
"[And who would I remarry? Some mortal who were merely die?]" she questioned.
"[I-I don't know. There are many gods out there. Something could happen... So many things are happening, marriage is almost nothing like it once was! Men can even marry other men now, you shouldn't marry your cousin anymore, so-so many things!]" said Hestia, falling over herself in her attempt to say the right thing.
Hera paused and stared at her sister. "[Yes. I know how marriage has changed in places.]" And how, by many laws, she would not be able to marry a brother, nor even a nephew, though she could not think of one she would have interest in playing wife too.
"[I... I guess what I am trying to say, and I know you've probably thought it or heard it, but I want you to hear it from me... is that I love you. You have always had my support, you always will. We can make it through this. We'll find something, some way.]"
"[Yes, somehow, we all shall make it through this. Someday, I will begin to build a life past this. While I do not see it now, I must trust and try and believe that there is a life for me.]" She looked her sister directly in the eye, serious, and slowly raised an eyebrow. She had had all these words said to her. She knew what they meant, but she did not believe that they were real. "[Do you have any other vast words of wisdom for me to add to the collection? I believe that Melpomene will make it part of her next piece, as she had just completed one.]"
"..." Hestia didn't reply. She just wasn't suited for this sort of thing. So she wringed her dress in her hands and sat by; clearly words were not what Hera needed. If she did desire something, then Hestia would be there when she needed it. Or something like that.
The difficulty was that even Hera did not know what she needed. She had admitted that her identity had been completely wrapped in that of her brother, and with him gone past her reach, she could no longer find herself. She could only think of what she was, measured by him. Women had said such things, found themselves lost and confused with the loss -- through divorce or death -- of a husband, and now she was the sum of all of them, and more. Her hobbies were those based about being a wife and a queen. She was wife and queen because she had been married to a king. Her lives separate from Zeus had been lived as a married woman, uncourtable, untouchable, scornful of those who would dare to question it and think a woman would not be well on her own. But then she had still been a wife.
Mortals always find ways to move on. If their husband died, than it was for the kids, or because it was what was supposed to be done, it is what the husband would have wanted, or any other excuse that could be found. It was society. Hera could not find those rules applying to her. Her husband was not supposed to die. He was not supposed to be so far beyond her reach that she could not find a way to follow. None was as it was meant to be.
So as her sister sat, wishing for some way to comfort her, Hera once more looked away to the art around her. The muse had been napping on her lap long enough, and the widow needed to move. Gently pushing the younger aside, she stood. Melpomene opened her eyes and reached out to the goddess, brushing her back with her fingertips before shifting to curl up against Hestia instead. She did not even question the presence of the third immortal within the room.
Standing, Hera began to pace about the room, wrapping her arms around her as she examined each piece. She was wearing a simple black dress, loose and tied with a cord at the waist. So easy to be horrible on most, Hera wore it with simple, careless grace. Picking up a piece of charcoal from somewhere, she finally paused before a blank canvas.
Hestia watched her with doubt. What could she do? Could she? She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the despair creep in. This was not her expertise. Why had she come? No, no no, this wasn't going to work; she was here for Hera, not to feel bad about her own grief. "Sister. What can I do for you?" she tried again. "Anything at all? While-while you're here, would you like me to watch after your house? Anything? I will do anything for you, if I can."
Mel frowned at her aunts moment, and gently poked her. Wasn't she used to kids curling up on her lap? Granted, she was bigger, but the concept was the same. Once the napping person got comfortable, unless a body part was falling asleep, you didn't move. But of course Mel wouldn't be that lucky. Maybe she needed to inspire them both to get any decent rest.
Hera did not bother to answer her sister. She was starting to sketch on the canvas, some design that made sense only within her own mind. She could see it, and wished to make it, but this was more for another form of release. She was muse touched, and distant.
Muse touched, as Hestia was about to be, though in a very different manner. So reaching up and brushing back her aunt's hair, Melpomene then granted her a kiss on the forehead. Go to her. Watch her, then hold her. See how she has lost all of herself. See the fragments left. Gather them. Gift them to her... she pushed. Hinted. Inspired. All the images she could offer, the inspiration to understand how deeply Hera was hurting. And if all that failed... Mel poked Hestia once more. Maybe she'd get Hades to help.
Hestia registered her niece's presence for all of a second before she felt her brain jolt into place. No, Hera didn't need any more words, did she? She needed... needed... The goddess' brow furrowed in thought. She needed action. Proof. Words could only be carried so far, could even be false. Hera needed more than that right now.
She stood and went to stand behind her sister, placing a hand along the younger's back as she watched her silently for a few minutes. Then, when she had gathered her confidence, gently but firmly wrapped her arms around her to hold her close. She tried to put as much love into the hug as was possible, wishing they could share emotions as much as they could power... But Hestia could only hope that Hera understood her meaning.
At first Hera ignored the hand, focusing on her sketching. The profile of the woman took shape more and more, then another face, fainter, opposite facing the first. Hera and Zeus. The look of the sketched Hera was sad, forlorn and longing. Zeus, sad, but smiling, almost pleased. Tears were starting to be shed, making hope of adding any further detail far more difficult, as she felt the arms wrap around her. She dropped the piece of charcoal, and started to curl in on herself as her grief sought for escape.
Hestia let her, sinking down to the floor to join her, not allowing her arms to be released. She didn't hush or soothe her, merely held her up as the crying began. This was not the time to comfort, she realized; now was the time to grieve.
From the couch, Melpomene watched the scene start to unfold, and nodded slightly to herself. Hestia had gotten the right idea. Mourn together, grieve together, and while Hera may never believe anyone feels as she does, at the moment, she'd know she wasn't nearly as alone as she thought she was. So the muse curled up, and closed her eyes.
Clinging to her sister's arms, Hera's sobs were muted, hushed, though they nearly wracked her whole body, making her heave and shake for breath. Hades had faced this, with her clawing and clinging to him. Now she was not nearly so violent, but still seemed unaware of just what she was doing. She wasn't thinking, only feeling.
Without meaning to, Hestia's own tears fell, lining from her cheeks down to her chin. She couldn't help it. Not when faced with her sister's overwhelming grief. Rocking slightly, she buried her face into Hera's hair and held on tighter, feeling like the world would slip away if she didn't. As if she had become Hera's lifeline, and Hera hers.
Perhaps it was a repeating scene, of Hera clinging and crying, but she found little else that she could do. She had spent numerous hours, nights, days, weeping when she found no other form of communicating her emotions, and often it had been done alone. Now, within her sister's arms, she could feel part of her grief as well, and instead of being angered by it, it became a common thread. "[I do not know what to do, sister,]" she whispered between sobs. "[He is gone...]"
"[We have to move on. That's all we can do, honey...]"
Was it? Hera did not think so. Slowly she released her sister and pushed her away, settling to sit on the floor by herself. She sniffled, trying to cease the tears and turn away from Hestia.
The hearth goddess cringed and tried to tug her back to her. "[Please listen to me. I don't say this out of spite or pity. You have every right to grieve, Sister, we all do. I do not demand that you be strong right now; even you can be weak.]"
There were still tears in her eyes as she glanced back to her sibling, though she tried to clear them away. Her back straightened, and she shifted her skirt. "[You do not ask me to be strong, yet you ask me to move on. I have no where to move to, sister. And moving takes strength. So either I can be weak, as you say, and grieve, or I can do as all seem to think I should and move on. I do not believe you understand what you are asking of me.]" She turned away again, and slowly began to stand.
"[I'm asking you to have some hope.]" Hestia took her by the wrists, keeping her close. In Hera's state, it was an easy task. "[I'm not telling you to get out now, to go start cleaning up your house this very second!]" She sighed, pausing to try and think. "[I just... want you to know that I know you'll be okay. I know you don't feel like that now, but you will. We'll find a way.]"
Hera's eyes narrowed slightly at her sister, though she did not attempt to pull away. "[And what way do you think will be found?]" she challenged.
"[I-I don't know yet.]" Hestia paused again with a sigh. "[Your... your domains. Without Zeus, you are not a queen, or a wife. Doesn't this mean you should marry again?]" she pondered aloud, mostly to herself as she considered her sister's challenge. "[But then, many queens retain their status without their spouses. I'm... I'm not sure. Not yet, anyway.]"
"[As our brother would draw to your attention, we are hardly kings or queens in this time. And if I were to marry merely to replace my husband, then I would need to marry another immortal king.]" She frowned at her. "[Do you know of any that would be suitable?]"
"[You could always marry someone you love,]" Hestia pointed out cautiously.
"[Hades is engaged to marry Persephone once more and Poseidon is not within contact. Perhaps at some point I shall seek him out, but I believe that he would be far more interested in our sister.]" Now she turned away, moving back in the direction of the couch they had been sitting on before.
Hestia stood and brushed herself off, still thinking. "[There is always the Norse. Many, many things have changed... you can marry many, or even a woman, in some places, you know. You have so much more freedom now! You can make your marriage mean anything.]"
"[I am aware of the many forms of marriages, past and present, and in different cultures through the world. To travel merely to investigate marriage customs would not be an unique experience.]" She slowed as she neared the couch and peered down at the muse. The goddess was partly curled up, and still managed to fill the entire space.
"[I'm not saying that you travel. Merely that you have many options now. You can still fill that hole, maybe not the same way, but...]" Hestia caught herself. There had been an envious tone there. "[Whatever it is that you choose to do, Hera, whether now or later, I will support you.]"
Carefully, Hera sat on the edge of the couch, facing the muse. She brushed her fingers against the girl's face, as a mother might with a daughter. She closed her eyes and tightened her jaw, refusing to cry once more.
Hestia saw the control and went to go stand beside her. "[What are you thinking?]"
Hera lifted her head and looked to her sister. She was quiet for a long moment before looking away again. "[Tend to your children sister.]"
"[They're fine without me, for the moment. I'm tending to you.]"
"[And how are you tending to me, sister?]" she questioned.
"[... Fair point,]" she conceded. "[I guess... I don't know. But I can't leave you alone in here. Besides our niece, I mean.]"
"[Our niece can be a fair companion,]" she mentioned, giving a slight shrug. "[Though perhaps I need to become more accustomed to being alone.]"
"[Not forever...]"
"[My husband is beyond death, Hestia, as you seem so passionate of reminding me. I have no children to raise and I will not take a lover without marriage. Perhaps it is too difficult for you to comprehend my situation as a widow with nothing to offer in her dowry to a husband who would be of worth. A man does not want to be compared endlessly to another, and even less when he is found lacking. I would doom any to such a relationship by accepting marriage yet I crave it with my very domain. I have everyone screaming at me to move on and that it will be alright, that I must continue with life and move past this yet no one can tell me why I should or how to build a life or the point to even care.]" She had risen slowly to her feet, her voice rising in volume and passion as she spoke, with tears gathering once more at her eyes. Then, her voice dropped to a near whisper. "Support me in my freedom to grieve, if you wish to support me in anything."
"I..." Hestia sighed a little. She did. She really did. But what more could she say that she hadn't already?
Hera waited for her to speak, to say something more, but when only silence followed, Hera nodded, and turned her back on her sister. She moved once more about the art pieces, seeing none, though looking at each.
"...Would you like some tea?" murmured Hestia after a while.
Hera made no answer. Hestia could decide on her own.
That seemed answer enough. Standing, with a pat to her niece's head, she left. She had tried, but maybe she wasn't good enough for this, she mused to herself sadly. Just not strong enough, that way. She sighed as she closed the door behind her, and went to go speak with their brother.
Summary: Hestia goes to her sister, both needing comfort and wishing to comfort Hera. The results are mixed.