Styx rolled her eyes, uncrossed her arms and started walking toward another shelf down the way. Under her breath she muttered, “autistic gerbil.” So like a rodent: bite first to see if it was worth having, then decide if anything could be done with what was bitten, then consider process. A regular gerbil might consider any nest-mates before acting in aggression or such, but...
“You cannot always put things that are felt into words, and sometimes that is best. You end up relying on parable and metaphor... analogy...” She grabbed a book that was sitting askew as she passed and turned it properly so it looked right on the shelf. “Things of deep passion, great emotions... deep feelings of certainty that others do not see... cannot ever be explained. They can only truly be experienced and that is why those who have never really known such things... fear them.”
She paused before another shelf and started methodically shifting the volumes around with minimal effort required. “Putting some things into words... sometimes risks cheapening their meaning over time. Which is not an evolution of the language, in my opinion. It is downplaying things that used to be quite fearful and powerful.” Hate. Love. Those two were the most common, but Styx saw it in other things as well. Everything was now considered an opportunity, so no one took the word nearly as seriously as it once was. Oaths either. Promise...
Everything was so flippant.
“My children were given station where they had none, position and depending on how you look at it -a certain degree of influence... They have exceeded every expectation I could have had for them.” Which was the absolute truth. Styx was incredibly proud of her children. And at least she got clarification on the whole how Kratos knew this woman thing... well, sort of. Maybe Styx knew this woman's husband...