@flame-forged said.º
Although time barely matters on a place so disconnected as the shapeless isles, there are a few times a year where one was reminded of the traditions of the outside world. On this Christmas day, Stheno has placed a package of carefully seasoned and preserved meats -not her handiwork, of course. "I thought you might be missing some of the food from back on land. I thought it only appropriate to offer some mercy, since you've been polite with us." The Gorgon feigns complete disinterest, inspecting the tip of her nails rather than the expression of her guest. "Oh, and don't worry - this wasn't obtained through any immoral means, I promise" At that comment, however, she give him a sly smirk.
Days passed by in a blurry, quick, slow. It was easy to lose track of time. What was the need for it in an isle that remained the same, in which the only highlight was the arrival of new men that would fall victim to their vices or meet a tragic end? It was maddening. But, while most would choose to ignore the passing of time, he kept track of the hours, days, and weeks that passed; the celebrations and events that should be happening in the rest of the world. He thought it helped him stay sane.
The exiled prince thought that goddesses, entities unaffected by the passing of time, didn't pay attention to human traditions that didn't involve them. That's why, for a few seconds, he did nothing besides blinking when Stheno the Mighty approached him with a gift. A gift. For him. Needless to say, the gift was accompanied by commentary meant to plant the seed of doubt in his head. He had quickly learned that the goddess liked saying things just to mess with others (but, more often than not, there was truth in her words). He never knew if he should laugh at her 'jokes' or be worried.
But it didn't seem like he had anything to worry about. The goddess wasn't needlessly cruel to him for her own amusement or 'out of love.' Stheno adhered to what she first said when he arrived to the isles, more corpse than man, just as he has been doing. "Thank you for your generosity," he replied as he took the package, a faint but genuine smile adorning his features when he thanked the goddess a second time. "It would reflect poorly on my character if I were to bite the hand that saved and fed me." Humble, but not to the point that it felt dishonest. The exiled prince carefully picked every word when he talked to the goddess, often making subtle reminders that he was aware of his position and that he knew that he only lived thanks to her generosity.
He was careful, but not dishonest.
But he was in quite the difficult position now, as he didn't carry any riches with him, nor could he prepare any lavish gifts as offerings worthy of a goddess. He could offer his work and blade, but Medusa the Ruler took care of most of the men who came to the shapeless isles. He knew he wasn't needed here, but even so...
"I was hoping to polish my woodwork more before presenting it to you as an offering, but..." Rather than explain with words, he led her to a secluded area of the isles. Hidden by trees and facing the shore, there was a swing big enough to fit two bodies. It clearly wasn't crafted by a master carpenter, but it was located in a beautiful corner of the isle, the farthest away from the spots where the boats arrive. The trees protected it from sunlight and wind. "I thought that, whenever boredom struck, it would be nice to have a place you could retire to."
