She's only been traveling for three days, and already her hands are shaking. She can tell, because the cup of coffee she holds is trembling and she's forced to put it down before the hot liquid burns her. She doesn't like it.
She is the wife of a God, but once she was a mortal. And above all that, she's also his most faithful devotee. She needs his presence, the feel of his power and the taste of his wine just like any other drinker needs the next glass. She is depended on his power, having no one that sings her praises anymore. With him, she's assured of a bit of it. As long as she ignores what he is, and acts the faithful wife. She finds it strange, this hypocrisy of the Olympians. They can do wrong, just as long as no one does harm to them. They do not take criticism well. She knows he won't take her leaving well, just as she knows that sooner or later he'd fill his bed with someone else. It's just who he is. But ever since learning he'd taking one girl to his bed, and the girl had been unwilling, she could no longer ignore his actions. She had always held her tongue before, turned her eyes away out of fear. She was a mortal, laureled by gods or not, in their court. Speaking ill of one of them could not be a good idea (one only had to look at the many mortals and non mortal who had dared and been punished to know that).
Like his siblings and father, he could be cruel. And she wondered what kind of person she was to just put up with that. She'd always been a flighty girl, doing what she wanted, and running wild in her father's court. She acted before thinking, had found the court of Minos too stifling and had taken her first chance to escape. All rash actions, that had only ended in pain. And when Theseus had left, she'd taken a god into her arms.
It hadn't all been bad. They'd had good times, and she did love him. But she also wondered if this was the love one gives to ones god, or if it was the love ones wife gave their husbands. That also combined with the still bleeding wound Theseus had given her, a wound that made her often wonder if she was enough. Ariadne never denies she has more then enough issues to make any doctor frown at her. She deals with them, in her own way.
Even if this means running away for a while. It's not mature, far from, but she has no desire to be that right now (And knowing her past, running away has always been how she'd solved her problems even if it only made them worse). She feels ashamed, both by the not knowing and the fact that she's willfully ignored this for so long. She doesn't know what kind of person this makes her. What's worse is that she wants to go back and play pretend again, just so she can feel his presence again. She is an addict, and well aware of it.
She bites her lip and stares at the coffee like it's either to blame or has the answers to everything. She knows she has to go back, promises herself that nothing can really be the same and that something must change. She doesn't know how well that will hold up. Dionysus is persuasive and he knows how to wind her around his fingers. But he'll have to wait. She wants her thoughts to clear.
She takes the mug between her fingers, ignoring the light shake, and sips from it letting her eyes fall on those around her. Immortal as she is, she has more in common with them then she does with those back in the city. She never felt like she fit into that family, and was always aware of how different she was. Around these people she didn't feel so different, and above all things it's exactly what she needs right now.