"Thank you," she meant it, so deeply, though her eyes were still on Telos as she said it. Ares could have her full attention and her full gratitude later, for now she didn't want to look away from Telos for a moment. The things from the car could be retrieved later too, she had a few things here of her own.
Grabbing the nappy bag made her chest constrict with something like panic, though; the memory of it slung over Tragos' shoulder hit her hard, and all the other memories of that harrowing night forced themselves onto her in its wake.
Breathing unsteadily, she undressed her son as Ares poured his drink. The blanket he was wrapped in was one the boys must have bought themselves, she wouldn't have chosen cartoon sharks. The clothes, too, were unfamiliar, and the emotion that hit her then, hit her hard. She couldn't tell if it was fury that they'd dared to take him and clothe him in their own choices, or a complicated gratitude that they had provided for him, in some way. The feeling was too intense to identify; when you're hit by a train, it barely matters if its diesel or steam.
Telos cried as she cleaned him and changed him, and Melpomene sang to try and soothe him as she ran her hands down every limb, over every part of his body to check he wasn't hurt anywhere, to convince herself more fully that he was all still here. But she didn't really, really feel any sense of peace till she'd settled on the armchair to feed him and he latched on.
Peace in her heart, and peace and quiet in the room. Melpomene stroked his head softly, and looked up again at Ares. Nikkos was very subtly shifting his way toward her chair but Sparta most definitely was not.
It wasn't a complete peace. Emotions still swelled and crashed within her, the currents of them running deep. "How did you do it?" she asked him, trying not to succumb to them. "How did you find him?"