"I care about you." ( from zeus )
Send "I care about you." For my muses reaction!
Eileithyia’s week had gone from bad to worse, it felt as though it would never end. The final insult came when she was informed that she had to attend a party, her presence mandatory for no reason other than the fact that she was one of the legitimates.
Under usual circumstances, she would have begrudgingly made an appearance but not tonight. Tonight, she refuses. Instead, she chooses to protest in the only way she can, by disappearing.
She hides herself away from everyone and everything in one of the many gardens of Olympus, seeking solitude among the quiet paths and whispering leaves. There, at last, Thyia can catch her breath and begin to process what had happened today and in the days before it.
An hour or two passes before she hears footsteps approaching. The sound doesn’t surprise her, someone was bound to come looking eventually but she is startled when she turns and finds her father standing there.
Rising from the bench, she faces him, tension settling into her shoulders, arms crossed tightly. Unfortunately for Zeus, she had not spent the past hour calming herself. Instead of catching her breath, her emotions had festered, twisting tighter and tighter until they threatened to spill over.
Eileithyia lashes out at him, words tumbling over one another as the dam finally breaks. She tells him how miserable her week has been, how she argued with Hermes and Thanatos, how she feels she has been given the wrong title and forced into the wrong domain, how none of it feels like her, no matter how often she is told otherwise.
Her voice shakes, but she doesn’t stop.
“I bet no one even noticed I’ve gone.” Thyia cries. “I’m not an idiot, I know no one cares about me being there… or anywhere, really!”
The words hang heavy between them.
That stops her mid-tangent. The simple admission brings her spiralling emotions to an abrupt halt, as though the air has been stolen from her lungs. She stands there, stunned and speechless, staring at him as if she has misheard. Of all the things she expected to leave her father’s mouth, that was not one of them. And yet, she knows he is not lying. Somehow, that almost makes it worse.
“I’m not going to the party. You can’t make me.”
The words come out more stubborn than steady, her chin lifting in defiance. Her mind scrambles for something, anything, to focus on other than the sting of her outburst, anything but the apology threatening to rise in her throat.
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