Eros smiled warmly when his Erote settled close to him and felt some tension in his own being release. He ached to be away from any of them for too long, if only because he adored them so much. They were pieces of himself, really, of his domain. To be without them was like missing limbs. Eros was not known for his kindness or his forgiveness, but it was different with them. He could never stand to cause them distress or misery of any kind, and could never feel it was deserved. His other hand momentarily cupped the back of Hymen’s head and pulled it forward enough that he could plant a kiss against his hair. Eros glowed more brightly golden then, like a star regaining some of its own light.
“Oh no, never. You and your kind have only ever eased it.” He had never felt that loss and despair as he once had, not since the birth of Aphrodite even. But that was altogether different from the Erotes, his namesakes, his most beloved. Next to them, only Psyche compared in terms of his love, and he had insurmountable adoration and devotion to give.
The barest hint of surprise crossed Passion’s face, followed by endearment. “Of course, beloved. Nothing here is forbidden to you. This is home to you, whenever you should wish to claim it. I would deny no one the full extent of their home, least of all you.” He sighed softly and glanced around. “Though I suppose this looks so little like your home. You were raised among the fairer folk, the nymphs and dryads, were you not? Perhaps better accommodations might be found. A courtyard to call your own, perhaps. But later. First, come with me.” He led him out of the room then, through the gilded and golden halls, showing him everything they crossed. “It used to be much simpler than this,” he explained, “but some of your older brothers thought decadence was in order, and I can deny them nothing, I’ve found.” He smiled wryly, affection in his eyes. “A weakness of which they take advantage daily.”
hymen remained close to eros’ side as they passed by each room, each one as ornate as the last. if eros asked, he would readily admit that everything seemed to blur together into one grandiose maze. he couldn’t even identify the private chambers of his fellow erotes ( or, as much as he could glean from the decorative choices of their doors ), which only further embedded the slight feeling of unease in his heart. he nodded in response to his question ; ❝ with the muses, yes, ❞ he murmured as his neck craned back once again to stare at the elaborate frescoes that adorned the ceiling above each doorway. the thought of a courtyard comforted him, if only slightly : the open sky over his head, soft grass under his bare feet ... he felt a pang of guilt for longing for something so familiar in the place he should call his true home.
eros’ fond expression returned the gentle smile to his face. ❝ my brothers ... ❞ he echoed, the phrase foreign on his tongue. he considered anteros his closest companion and he loved frolicking with the others, but he was the one unrelated for them, save for their shared belonging to eros. hymen kept his fingers threaded with eros’ as he leaned forward to peer up and down yet another massive hall. ❝ but ... surely there’s much that’s just for you ? ❞ he could hardly imagine that the entirety of the palace was dedicated to the expensive demands of the other erotes. if this felt like home to eros, then ... perhaps it could be his home too.
