eve of slaughter { hemera & hestia }
Hestia kept away from battlefields, leavings the trials and troubles of war to the likes of Athena and Ares.
But even as far removed as the goddess was from these matters when a war erupted partially caused by her own sister curiosity was bound to take her. She had heard the tale of the golden apples and the conflict that followed but she had not seen the damage done until now. Bodies littering the ground below her feet, the once golden wheat tainted crimson by the blood of the fallen. Yes, the mortals had made quite a mess of the Earth.
They were as fickle as the Olympians, as reckless too, but she knew at the height of their misery they would turn an angry eye to the sky and curse them out all the same. Offerings had multiplied for the god of war and mothers cried for mercy, turning to her or to Hera. In the end, the mortals always expected their troubles to be solved by an outside power. But where was the lesson in that?
She was of a mind to let them untangle themselves, feeling only a sliver of empathy for those that had brought this suffering upon their own kind. Once she noticed she was not alone in the fields, she walked up to the smaller figure, not a mortal for sure but not a face she instantly recognized. “Now that the fields they once watered are painted with blood, how long do you think it will take them to beg for our merciful intervention?”
Hemera gazed blankly at the figure that sauntered to them. Squinting, their expression turned to contemplation as they discerned what deity had approached them. Ah yes, one of the Olympians, a daughter of Rhea and Cronus—Hemera’s thoughts drifted back to the War of the Titans and the bloody conflict that lead to the current state of affairs: three brothers overthrowing their father and carving out the world for their own rule. Untouchable as they flew over the sky every day, Hemera sat by as they watched Uranus fall to Cronus, and then Cronus to Zeus. Perhaps out of this conflict one of Zeus’ sons would overthrow his father to fulfil some violent prophecy.
Bringing their attention back to the figure, they were able to discern the divinity to be Hestia, something of a granddaughter or a grandniece if they were inclined to define familial relations. Pressing their lips together, Hemera sighed.
“We have already intervened, have we not? This war is of the Olympian’s doing—I’m sure some mortals would rather the divine refrained from meddling in their affairs unless they are blessed with a favorable trait,” Hemera lifted their dress and stepped over the body of a mangled corpse. Inspecting the armor and weapons that was strewn about the bodies, Hemera found themselves rather impressed by the craftsmanship.
“Don’t you think it’s such a waste?” they said, lifting up a glistening helmet with a bronze luster “They make such fine things in the name of war—and they all go to waste.”














