Though Nyx listened to her daughter's recitation, intently, her eyes were firmly fixed on the girl beside her. There was something very definitely wrong with the Olympian, she was not quite there. This was evident when Philotes recounting of their recent fight caused absolutely no change in her expression or demeanor. Given that it sounded as though they were both raw by the end of that encounter, there should have been some response from Harmonia. There was none, and Nyx very firmly but gently kept her arm around the girl.
The only time she let go was near the very end of the tale her child was telling, when their tea arrived. Nyx stood momentarily to hug her great-great-great-great-grandniece who was kind enough to bring the tray up. Though she was shooed off fairly quickly, as her rather dark appearance would probably not be settling at all for Harmonia.
She'd just turned to return to her seat when the girl clapped her hands to her ears as though she'd heard something too loud. Nyx frowned and quickly resumed her former position, arm even tighter about Harmonia's shoulders. What was it that had caused that reaction? There hadn't been a noise. Even the tray being settled against the table had been fairly quiet. All seemed well, but obviously it was not.
As Philotes finished up, Nyx reached one hand up to gently wipe the tears from Harmonia's face. A heartbeat later, an impossibly black handkerchief appeared in her hand and she continued the ministrations, hoping that it would help the girl somehow. Her state was starting to seriously worry Night. "There now," she said softly, "that's a bit better." A fresh handkerchief was produced and she asked, as bluntly as if Harmonia were one of her own, "Do you need to blow?"
Erebos would have to deal with pouring the tea and getting more information from Philotes. At the moment, Nyx's entire attention was on Harmonia.
Wait... had Philotes said Harmonia equated her self-imposed exile to Elysium to... suicide? Oh dear.