lustrumsā
Jasonās not sure what compelled him to travel to the cultural sector, much less to the statue of his father there, but here he is.
He stares at the blank-eyed Zeus, so unlike his fatherās actual likeness that it makes Jason uncomfortable for a moment. As he relaxes, he reminds himself that the real Zeus (or Jupiter, or whatever he wants to call himself) has hardly had anything more than a symbolic influence on Jasonās life as it is. What does it matter if the faces are different? Stone or flesh, his inaction is the same.
Jason talks. He keeps at it for a long time, explaining how heās been treated since he got here, how heās got that wound in his gut that wonāt heal. How heās died since he first got here. How heās still dying, even after resurrection. He talks until he gets angry, until his throat gets dry and his eyes wet. He turns in frustration, just in time to notice someone passing -- someone who just inconveniently noticed him speaking to a statue as if it were a real person.
Ā Ā Ā Ā Ā Whoops. Jason blushes up his neck.
āUm, hey. Itās not...what it looks like, I promise. This guyās actually my father.ā He winces. āI mean, not the statue! Just...the person the statue is modeled on. Actually, the god.ā
A voice in the back of Jasonās head tells him it probably wouldāve been safer to not say anything.