ad meliora

prometheus klymene • thirty-three • they/he zeus rhea's assistant & legal counsel

[prcmethevs]

AN NESCIS, MI FILI, QUANTILLA PRUDENTIA MUNDUS REGATUR ; don't you know, my son, with how little wisdom the world is governed?

i. skeleton ♢ ii. about ♢ iii. connections ♢ iv. playlist ♢ v. pinterest ♢ vi. credits

[prcmethevs]

patroclusc​:

Summit or not, Patroclus will always stay until the late hours of the night working until nearly exhaustion before heading out to his own home, it was a routine he’s familiar and comfortable with, mainly because it was distracting. Work gave him a purpose, a break or vacation only came when Poseidon or Aphrodite demanded it of him, but he never liked going on vacation alone. It was a reminder of what he wanted but couldn’t have. 

Leaving his office, Patroclus made sure it was locked before finally planning to leave for the day. The summit wasn’t as bad as the celebration in Olympe, mostly because they were at home turf, which meant Patroclus had somewhere to go at the end of the day that was his own. In Olympe everything felt fake, the place was beautiful indeed but the brightness didn’t feel as natural as it feels in Pontius.

As Patroclus walked, he eventually stopped at the sight he hasn’t seen in while. “Prometheus!” His first reaction was delight, he hasn’t seen Prometheus in Olympe at all and after hanging out with Athena, he has wanted to see them since they used to know each other back in Arcadia, thanks to their mutual friendship with Athena. His second reaction was the realization of the location they were both in, Prometheus wasn’t supposed to here this late at night, most guests were either sleeping or drinking and the hallways that were going to the greenhouse were closed for guests. “Are you alright? Have you been drinking?” He asked cautiously. 

The questions were innocent enough, and really, Patroclus’ display of concern would be considered as a little flattering. But there was a degree of wariness that stuck out, and Prometheus hadn’t missed it. Not that they could fully fault them for it. After some time at Olympe, they quickly learned that paranoia came as a second nature when you work for an establishment that probably had mounds of secrets locked away tightly somewhere. It wouldn’t be so hard to believe that things would work similarly around here. 

Still, Prometheus had always thought themself to be pretty convincing when they wanted to be. It was a skill they had built from hours of training and competing with their debate team in their schooldays, further refined as they spent years navigating the intricacies of law through academia. It was a necessary weapon that, when loaded with plenty of airtight evidence and an unshakable conviction, had successfully get them out of the courtroom with victory under their belt time and time again. The settings and circumstances they had found themself in currently might be different, but putting Patroclus’ suspicion to rest was still a similar enough game. 

So Prometheus made their best move, and laughed. “Of course I did, how could I say no to an open bar? But don’t worry about me.” They pinched the air with their two fingers, making an emphasis when they continued, “I just a little bit, really.” The smile across their face stretched into a grin. “So I’m fine, perfectly so!” Prometheus approached Patroclus and slung their arm around his shoulder. It was a gesture far too friendly, considering how long they hadn’t actually seen each other, much less hung out. But if it could sell their act a little more convincingly, Prometheus might as well give it a shot. “Seems like you, however, still have your wits intact.” Then, with a quirk of a brow, “They’re not overworking you when there’s a party going on, I hope?” 

[prcmethevs]

zagreusrhea​:

The water is clear here, shimmering blue glass to view a whole different world through. He’d been here once, when he was 7? 8? Before the bullet… thing. His first time snorkeling, Zagreus had accidentally inhaled a lung full of water when a sea turtle swam too close. He’s laughed it off, almost hacked up a tiny lung too as Uncle Possy pat his back as he spat up water on the beach sand. It had never instilled in him a fear of the water - if anything, it inspired him to go further, dive to the bottom of the lake in Tartarus. Now, after all these years, Zagreus was delighted to find the blue shimmering water and the sandbars underneath it just the same. If he remembered correctly, there was a reef to be found somewhere around here too, and another spot where the sandbar dipped off into deep waters.

The strip of beach wasn’t private, more so a well-kept secret and Zagreus shouldn’t have been surprised that he wasn’t the only one familiar with its treasures. Promethus swims (ha) into his field of vision - very much on the land - as Zagreus pops out of the water and Zagreus lets out a sound of surprise. “Promethus!” He paddles to shore. “Theus. Prommy. Eus. You have a nickname? If you don’t have one, I could get creative.” Zag makes it to the sand, climbs at full height. Laughs. “I am! Not a lot of swimmers in Tartarus so it’s just me. And you? If I didn’t know any better, I would say you were following me. I didn’t know snorkeling was big in Olympe.”

Prometheus let out a laugh, clear as the sky overhead. It was hard not to as they watched the Rhea swam closer to shore, excitement bursting out with the barrage of nicknames coming off the top of his head. “From the samples you’ve given, maybe you should. Prom does get a little boring sometimes.”

( It surprised Prometheus then, how they managed to maintain the grin on their face, even when faced with Zagreus’ casual remark that mirrored their own unspoken truth: I would say you were following me. Perhaps it should be a little worrisome, how comfortable they felt in putting on this snakeskin they had crafted so deliberately, how much easier it was now ignore the itch to shed it all off until they were all alone in the dark of the night. But wasn’t all that a good thing, especially when you’re intent on beating the gods and titans at their own game? )

“I don’t think the mountains really allow for a remarkable snorkeling experience, and neither does the pool at Symposia. Wouldn’t you agree?” Prometheus mused. “To tell you the truth, I’ve only snorkeled once in my life, and I barely remember it now. But if the marketing about all the pretty reefs is true, then I might as well see it for myself now — I have a feeling it’d be a while before I can visit again the next time.” There was a small smile tugging at the corner of their lips then. “Do you mind if I crash your solo party? You seemed like you know the waters here pretty well.”

[prcmethevs]

CLOSED STARTER || patroclus cirillo ( @patroclusc​​​ ) LOCATION: some random hallways, kalavria TIMESTAMP: the kalavria summit – first week ; nighttime

It was getting late and, in all the excitement of arriving at Pontius, they might have ordered a cocktail that was a tad bit too strong. They’d walked along the unfamiliar hallway to get to their quarter, not realizing they were heading further away rather than towards, had lingered in front of a door for a little too long, completely missing the sign that spelled out “restricted” in bold capital letters in a state of disorientation.

Out of those chain of events, only three points were remotely true:  The first night of the kalavria was indeed growing old, Prometheus did order a cocktail as their closing drink of the night (and they were really damn good), and they had been standing around in that part of the hallway for quite some time now. The fact of the matter was this: it wasn’t alcohol that influenced their action, but rather the intoxicating curiosity that demanded indulgence the moment they laid their eyes on this majestic vessel. After all, Pontius was Poseidon Rhea’s his very own empire, and now the King was generous enough to open up his gates for the public. Everyone would be buzzing to roam the halls and ballrooms, admiring the riches and beauty on display. But Prometheus was more intrigued by the kinds treasures and skeletons that might be stowed away in his crypt, waiting to be unearthed. And really, when would be a better time to play detective if not on the first night, when all the charms and wonders of the empire should still feel fresh?

But Pontius was a kingdom guarded as securely as Olympe was. A part of them had figured out that the likelihood of them getting through any secure doors were close to zero and the chances of being found was fairly high. Hence the need to weave a web of lies– one that would held up with plenty of poking and probing– and Prometheus liked to think they did a pretty good job. Here’s the moment of truth, they thought as they turned around to face the direction where the approaching footsteps had come for. A little wave of relief washed over them when they recognize who it was. There was a chance he’d extend some benefit of the doubt. “Oh Patroclus, thank the Fates,” Prometheus breathed out a small chuckle, sporting a sheepish smile to boot. “I have no idea where I am– I swear, this feels like trying to memorize all the right turns in the labyrinth all over again.”

[prcmethevs]

CLOSED STARTER || theseus angelos ( @goldentheseus​ ) LOCATION: hot springs at one of the local islands TIMESTAMP: the kalavria summit – first week ; morning

Prometheus had their whole morning planned out for the day: wake up real early, grab a quick bite, and made their way to one of the local hot springs shortly after opening. And so far, it had been the best decision they made during the whole trip. The place was practically empty when they got in, giving them a chance to hog the best spot before the rest of the crowd began to flock in.

And so Prometheus sat alone in the water with their eyes shut as the tension and stress began to ease away. It lasted for a good fifteen minutes before the door creaked opened and the sound of footsteps against the ground drew closer. They lifted their head languidly and opened their eyelids, finding themself staring at an all too familiar face.

“Fancy seeing you here, Angelos.” After crossing paths with Mino and Ariadne on Olympe, it was only a matter of time before one Theseus Angelos finally make an appearance back in Prometheus’ life. Granted, the thought quickly took a backseat once the scandals began to rain down. But of course the Fates hadn’t forgotten– after all, it was the kind of joke they seemed to favor so much. “I was beginning to think you disappeared into thin air to accentuate all those tales I’ve been hearing.”

[prcmethevs]

CLOSED STARTER || artemis rhea ( @ohartemis ) LOCATION: artemis’ new office, delos studio, olympe TIMESTAMP: pre-kalavria summit ; noon

“Your 12 o’clock appointment’s here,” Prometheus announced as they walked into the room, holding up the bag in their hand to show. It was the food they had picked up on the way from their regular lunch spot, a small restaurant a couple of blocks away that they found surprisingly cozy. Though Prometheus had suggested a change of scenery the moment they caught wind of Artemis getting her own office— a small little perk on top of her expanding influence at Delos Studio.

Though as Prometheus took in their surrounding, small was definitely not the word they’d use to describe her workspace when it was far more spacious than their own. Not that the fact had surprised them at all, it was only natural for a princess to receive a royalty treatment. “I see the place’s coming along nicely.” Their eyes continued to wander until they stopped at an empty space on one side of the room. “You know, I think that’s a nice place to hang an art piece or something.” Then, with an upward twitch of their lips, “I heard you commissioned something... interesting, somewhat recently.”

[prcmethevs]

mcyme​:

FOR: @prcmethevs WHERE: SURROUNDING ISLANDS; BEACH WHEN: 2130.02; NIGHTFALL

If anyone had told him that in two weeks time he’d be sitting by the water’s edge, sharing a bottle of scotch pilfered from the open-bar with Prometheus of all people, he’d have checked them into the nearest hospital for taking leave of their senses. Yet here he is, doing exactly that, and wonder of all wonders, they are actually playing civil—no bloodshed so far, barbs and knife edges tucked away behind backs for the night. The Fates do have a strange sense of humor.

The quiet lasts for only a minute though, a blink in the eternity that has been the drag of the days since arriving on Pontius, before both of their phones go off with the familiar ping of a new notification. Another fire to be put out, another crisis that needs diverting—it seems to be all he, all either of them, has been occupied with lately.

Not without good reason, to be sure, but he’s taking an unofficial night off. Short of someone actually dying, there’s nothing that will be pulling him away from here and now. He doesn’t bother even checking what the update is, lying back against the sand and closing his eyes. Prom can get this one. “What’s the damage?”

It was a nice night, Prometheus thought, with the breeze blowing gently that felt cool against their skin, the rhythm of the wave crashing against the white sand, and the clear sky overhead. It was the kind of vista that washed over you with a sense of serenity, even for one Ares Rhea. A change of pace that Prometheus hadn’t seen coming, not when they could barely get through an interaction without a scowl from Ares that they were almost sure it was a permanent feature fixed on his face. Still it was a pleasant one that Prometheus could ever find themself enjoying his quiet company.

Or maybe that was just the alcohol talking. It was a bit soon to tell after all.

It was then that both of their phones chimed simultaneously, which could only mean one thing: work. An emergency, maybe. Another source of headache, most likely. Either way, Prometheus should probably rush up and attend to it. Work had brought them here after all, and that entailed cleaning after the ruins that any of the Rheas had left behind in their wakes. But for the love of Fates, Prometheus was tired and they wanted to stay with the view and the booze and just enjoy this one night without any interference.

So they let out a long hum without moving a single inch from where they were sitting, arms hugging their own knees as they stared off into the horizon. “Dunno.” The word came out a little slurred, hopefully convincing enough to sound a little drunk. If it wasn’t, well, they hope the silly little grin they were wearing would do the trick. “Ooh, maybe we should make bets on it– I’m putting my money on one of the twins!”

[terpsikeraunos]

ancient greek word of the day: θεομαχέω, to fight against the gods

[alectocarrion]

headlines: olympe (3/??) 

[prcmethevs]

CLOSED STARTER || zagreus rhea ( @zagreusrhea ) LOCATION: nearby snorkel & diving spot TIMESTAMP: the kalavria summit – first week ; late morning

The thought of spending some time alone to enjoy what Pontius had to offer sounded like heaven to Prometheus. Ever since the Heteraidia Festival last month, chaos had seemed like a permanence in their life now, what with the constant scandal that dropped on top of their usual paperwork. It was directions that could lead them to uncover the secret hidden deep in the belly of Olympe, which was always a good thing when all things were considered. Though it came with a price of additional hours of muddying their hands to clean after all the mess. So while yes, the Kalavria Summit technically also meant work, the fact that they weren’t playing host meant a little bit more time free time – and Prometheus had every intention of squeezing in a little bit of vacation after being put through the wringer for a full month now.

Though now that they were all clad up in wetsuit, Prometheus was beginning to wonder if maybe they should have invited someone to tag along. But considering their own travel party consisted of the Rheas (the very people they were trying to get a break from) and Icarus (who had been persistently elusive as of late), the list of people they wanted to bring along had quickly dwindled down to none.

The Fates had a different plan however, they always do, because it was then that they had spot Zagreus. The laughter bubbled out of them before Prometheus could stop it– mostly out of amusement for how happenstance had brought them together in the same space again, partially at the irony of being shoved towards another Rhea when they had gone out of their way to avoid them. “We have to stop meeting like this,” they mused aloud as the approached Zagreus, flashing him a little grin. “Are you here by yourself?”

[prcmethevs]

icarusfclling​:

They’d been up to their eyeballs in flashcards and lecture notes and practice exams for what felt like an eternity when Theus proposed a ceasefire in the form of food that isn’t takeout eaten on a table that isn’t covered in textbooks, and Icarus had agreed without hesitation. Now he’s stepping through the sliding door onto the balcony with a picnic spread made up of whatever they could find in the kitchen, and Theus’s question makes him laugh as he sets it on the small table usually reserved for early morning cups of coffee or tea. “If I were worried about that, I’d still be studying!” He calls back, glancing up to meet his best friend’s grin with one of his own. “Half a bottle of wine isn’t going to make either of us less competitive, and besides, I think we’ve earned it. What’ve you got?”

Prometheus hummed thoughtfully at the question. "You know, I’m not so sure,” he said as he took out the bottle, closing the door with the back of his feet. “I grabbed one at random the last time I visit my dad’s. Let me see.” By this point, he had a corkscrew and two glasses in his hand, and he was making his way to join Caro as he peered to check the label. “It’s red– 2100 Xinomarvo. Arcadia’s finest, or so it claims to be.” Prometheus shifted his attention to Caro, a small grin on his face. “Well,” the bottle opened with an audible pop, poured out the drinks, “As a pair of Arcadian Finest, I think we can be the judge of that.” He offered a glass to his friend and raised his own for a toast, schooling a serious look on his face. “To our very last battle together,” he said, carrying the bravado of a soldier that was only betrayed by the flicker of mirth in his eyes, “May we come on top victorious, as we usually do.”

[prcmethevs]

mcyme​:

It doesn’t seem as though his casual admittance to tracking his own family members through their devices went acknowledged as a truth. Good. Better they don’t suspect anything and decide to go searching through their own phone for bugs or taps. Unless they’re faking right now—something he would not put past anyone who smiles like a promise of worse to come. What a bothersome fellow his father has chosen to take on.

His fingers twitch slightly with the urge to reach out and slot his palm into the hollow of their throat, see how hard he has to press before that infuriating Cheshire Grin slips off their face. If he were to peel back the veneer of taunting self-assurance they wear like a second skin, what kind of hollowed-hallowed creature would he find crawling underneath?

He scowls down at them instead, unimpressed by the direction of his thoughts—age-old impulses long laid to rest stirring with life anew—and their warning. “Rest assured, I will not actually leave them to run amok and potentially hurt themselves or someone else,” tempting as the notion is, he knows better than to chance the family’s name and reputation in a stunt so ill-advised. No, that sort of thing has always been more the speed of his younger siblings instead. “But if I ever change my mind, I’ll be sure to let you know first thing. All the better to keep you busy.”

There it was again – the scowl that was all too familiar now, making its appearance like a clockwork. After months Prometheus still found it almost too amusing how easy they could get that reaction out of him just from carefully pushing on his buttons a certain way or another. It was a dangerous game, as dangerous as poking on a slumbering bear in its den. But curiosity had always been a hubris of theirs and, quite frankly, a part of them often wonder how far they could get away with before Ares would do more than baring his fangs at them.

Right now, however, was not the right time to find that out. Not when more eyes were around to watch, and certainly not so soon after arriving at the belly of the beast. So they put the game to rest, at least for now. “Well, thank you Ares. You can consider myself very assured then,” they replied with a laugh. “Now then, mind showing me where armory’s at? I might as well try and join in on the hunt before you change your mind.”

[prcmethevs]

minotaurus​:

This instinct within him – `the urge to push those he cares about behind him and ball his fists – is old, has been honed for the better half of his life into something destructive. When Prometheus Klymene gets their scrappy self into a fight ( one they started, mind you ) Mino cannot do anything but jump in. Ball his fists. Use them as he has used these tools time and time before. He supposes it’s a good thing the bouncer got in the way when he did, because his vision had come close to red, because Mino was more deadly than most drunks in Arcadia’s pubs. “Because sometimes, Prom, there’s no logic to be found in this world.” There’s a distant amusement at the other’s situation, as well as a distant concern, and Mino wipes at his nose. His hand comes back slightly red. “You were right to disagree with them, but I think maybe next time you should stick to your words.” Then, there’s a burst of laughter, warm and filled with the post-fight adrenaline that courses through him. “Yes, you especially. A wonder, that I never knew that you were such a fighter.” There’s little sincerity to his words and Mino throws an arm around Prometheus’ shoulders, pulling him close in companionable comradery. “Your right hook is a fucking mess, though. Your knuckles okay?”

Prometheus barked out a laugh, and it was a loud and unrestrained thing that cut through the otherwise empty street. “Well then my dearest Mino, remind me to write down 100 argument points on why Euterpe is the greatest artist of our generation to bring the next time we drink together.” Though the sarcasm was pretty evident in his voice, Prometheus’ mind had missed it completely at this state. He looked at Mino, brows wiggling as he put on his brightest grin. “What can I say? I’m a fellow with a whole lot of secrets up my sleeves.” They let Mino pull him closer, mirroring his movement by putting his own arm on his friend’s shoulder and letting out a long hum at the mention of his knuckle. “‘S fine, I think,” he mumbled, though he still brought it up finally for inspection. “It’s a ‘lil blue and tingly, but that’s normal... Right?”

[prcmethevs]

CLOSED STARTER || icarus volati ( @icarusfclling ) LOCATION: prometheus’ apartment, arcadia TIMESTAMP: nighttime, spring of 2119

With the home stretch of the term was fast approaching, productivity was of the essence to prepare for the hell that was finals week. An impromptu picnic out in the balcony was the very antithesis of that. But after studying all weekend and even the days before that, Prometheus would argue that both he and Caro deserved at least a little bit of a break. Besides, there was something almost bittersweet about the fact that they were facing their last academic battle before being inaugurated as a full-fledged member of functioning society. So he thought, why not? "Should we pop a bottle?” he asked loudly to Caro – who was taking some of the light food they had prepared out to the balcony – as he eyed a bottle of vintage wine in the pantry. The grin on his face seeped into the next question, “Or are you worried I’ll beat you again the next time we quiz each other?”

[prcmethevs]

CLOSED STARTER || mino asterion ( @minotaurus​ ) LOCATION: the streets of arcadia TIMESTAMP: hours after midnight, spring of 2117

“Why were we kicked out when they started it,” Prometheus complained, the words slurred out as he stumbled in the dead of nights along the familiar streets of Arcadia, occasionally bumping into the body walking next to him. It wasn’t even a factual statement since Prometheus had, in fact, been the first one to throw the punch. Which, he would admit hours later, wasn’t the wisest idea, considering he didn’t even know how to throw a proper one – which left him with a persistent throbbing on his hand... and face, and ribs, and a few other places. Not that Prometheus could feel the pain much with alcohol and adrenaline still coursing in his veins, along with the annoyance that still flowed out of his lips. “I mean, who in their right minds would call Euterpe’s music boring? Hacks who can’t recognize talent and artistry, that’s who.” He kicked a stray pebble with a huff of frustrated breath. “They’re so lucky the bouncer got in the way, we were so close handed their asses to them.”

[prcmethevs]

icarusfclling​:

How many more of these meetings must he endure before the festival is over? How many can he endure, before he breaks? Icarus can see as well as feel the tension in Prometheus’s smile and it drops another leaden weight on his heart. They’ve each claimed to understand, but do they? Can either of them really understand when it seems they both have some kind of mask to hide behind? 

There has to be some way of breaking through, some way to let each other in again, but Icarus knows it can’t be done here. Not here within the walls of Xenios, perhaps not even in Olympe; certainly not now, with the city swarming with festival-goers from nearly every corner of Gaia. Somewhere else, though, some other time… He sends a silent prayer to Chaos: please, give me an opening. Another to Peitho: please, give me the words. A third, less a prayer and more a desperate plea, to himself: hold fast. have hope. you are not yet finished. you may not be alone.

“Oh, without a doubt. Though we should trade contacts — I don’t have the same number anymore, and I suspect you don’t either.” Icarus smiles, lets himself relax into the small divots of truth in the lie. “Perhaps after the festival I could give you the insider tour? Not the big important stuff, I’m sure you’ve seen your fill of that already, but… believe it or not, there are actually a few places here that feel a little bit like home.” Let me share that with you, his eyes beg. Help me bridge this gap, meet me in the middle of the labyrinth and let’s find our way out together. Hand in hand, just like old times.

Was it the way Icarus’ smile had melted some of his own rigidness away, or the gentleness shining in his eyes? Prometheus wasn’t so sure themself, but somehow he managed to tug on their heart, triggering a flare of hope that burned like wildfire. Foolish, foolish, foolish, a voice in their head chided for letting it happen so easily. Because they should know better than to let themself get ensnared by these Olympians and their tricks, they knew better than to put themself in such a fragile situation.

Except, Icarus wasn’t an Olympian. He couldn’t be, not with how he regarded Arcadia the same way Prometheus did: a home that will never be replaceable, even by this gilded kingdom they reside in. Wasn’t that enough proof that it was still Caro that stood on the other side? That he too, was inching closer to the edge of the cliff to reach them, despite standing on fragile ground that could collapse and plunged him into uncertainty. And so, if there was even the tiniest glimmer of hope that they could help each other stand on the same side once more – if they could embrace the best friend they had once lost into their life again – how could Prometheus hesitate?

And so Prometheus reached for their pocket and fished out their phone. When they offered it to take, it was with a smile of their own – perhaps the most sincere they had given in a long time. “I’d really appreciate that, Icarus.”

// END

[prcmethevs]

herarhearp​:

Prometheus represented a delicate thread in the web of connections that had shifted since Hera left for Pontius. By protecting Zeus’ legal interests, they were also safeguarding everything that concerned Hera, back when her and her husband presented as an united front, at the very top of the Olympe hierarchy. Now, it would be smart of Prometheus to be wary of Hera, to protect Zeus against her. It was nothing personal, but the thought still stings.

“I can only imagine the logistic chaos of hosting the festival in such a scale.” She didn’t need to mention the diplomatic nightmare of bringing every big name from Tartarus and Pontius here. “But the event itself shows only glamorous result, without a single trace of the sweat that sustains it. I expected nothing less, but it is still an impressive feature. I shall compliment them personally, because the people involved deserve the recognition.” 

The question is polite and welcome, as Prometheus usually is, but the irony of the situation itself doesn’t escape Hera. This is the biggest event in Olympe history, and the usual hostess is no more than another guest this time. It may be her own fault, but Hera hates the feeling of being left out. “Yes, I have. It’s quite a different experience, with the current arrangements, but the reception has been splendid. Are you getting some time to enjoy the festivities or is my husband burying you in work? Don’t let him keep you too busy, you deserve a break now and then.” It feels strange that the words ‘my husband’ now feel like an impactful statement, instead of the old, almost banal truth they used to communicate.

♢♢♢

Prometheus simply watched Hera as she noted of the preparation. Of course, this wasn’t the first time they had met. They were Zeus’ legal counsel after all, and the moment the prospect of divorce began to float around, Prometheus were the first to be notified to help mediate and navigate through any legal repercussions that might follow. This was, however, the first time they had seen her in her element, in Olympe acting as the matriarch of the Rheas. It was a role that suited her well – no one would ever doubt her reign when the air of regality that hang so vividly around her and the command her voice carried. And so Prometheus wondered, not for the first time, what could make her consider to leave it all behind for Pontius, possibly for good? 

The answer hadn’t shown itself then, and really, Prometheus didn’t expect it to either. So they tuck it away for later. There was no use in trying to guess it now, they would just need to keep digging. “I’m glad you find it well,” they said with a nod. “Though please, if there’s anything I can help you with, feel free to reach out. I’m sure Mr. Rhea would want you to feel as comfortable as possible.” At her question, Prometheus let out a small laugh. “Thank you for your concern, but my workload is not so different from what I’m used to.” Which was to say a lot, almost ridiculously so. But they knew better than to complain to her– or to anyone else, really. “But yes, I’ve had some free time to spend time to browse through the marketplace earlier, and I plan to join the hunt later.”