Weird, crazy, confusing. Were there better words to describe the Greeks? They weren't weird, crazy or confusing when they could still go back to the place they called home, but times have changed and people didn't see things the way they did anymore. And it's changed enough that even Ares would acknowledge that they were all dysfunctional on some level.
"Well I think it's a little too late for that," he said quietly. He could still remember flashes of formative moments, still remember Zeus being so big and so tall, his small hands curling into white fabric, and Hera used to smile then. Everything between that and when Zeus became smaller than him - nothing but fancy words on an old piece of paper, ink almost completely faded, as if the memory was nothing more than a dream. The fighting started sometime in that dream, and it hasn't stopped since.
Still fighting, still struggling, still losing. He didn't have much to lose anymore.
"I'd like to have remained forgotten though. It's a lot easier than living and knowing that you don't remember what you are and who you're supposed to be."