"That," Elpis said with sudden, flat solemnity, "is a very, very dumb question."
After a moment she shrugged and popped a walnut into her mouth, chewing quickly. She swallowed, licked her fingertip clean, and looked at Hephaestus with her brows raised. "Stop that. Quit looking at me like we're sitting on a mountain top wearing togas and ashes. We're not, things don't work like that here." She frowned, mercurial temper--another uncharacteristic twist--pulling her brows together. "You should look happy. I'm going to fix things." Like she'd fixed Death, except she hadn't, not really, though she could feel it, him, the heart and the bones, apart yet in sync, and the pain there wasn't her fault, no, not really, no.
Elpis didn't want to think about it. So she didn't.
"I'm going to make it so Legra doesn't hurt anymore, so she doesn't have all those broken bits tearing and peeling inside." Hope's eyes were bright and cold. "I'm going to give her a real heart."