@ mxther-dearest
There it was.
The house.
Her house.
A beautifully structured piece of artwork with numerous, victorian-styled spires and a wraparound porch that drew the eye - with picturesque windows and elegantly placed lanterns along the porch to complete the picture ... of picture-perfect living.
Squinting up at it, struggling hard not to give into the urge to gawk at the house - it wasn’t like he’d never seen a beautiful house before, but this one was just ... so Hera - Hephaestus shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and slowly, almost hesitantly, approached the porch steps. Gods, but this house looked as though it belonged on the front of a hallmark card. He was even tempted to take a quick picture of it with his phone and upload it to the internet to show the world just what kind of house his own mother resided in. They’d probably be as shocked as he'd been when he’d first ridden up to the gate - only to realize Hera lived in a manor.
Of course she did.
Pausing in front of the front door, Hephaestus considered turning tail and making a clean break for the nearest exit.
But he didn’t, because he’d promised Hera he would stop by for dinner tonight, and he refused to break his promise. After all, a man was only as good as his word. So, with that thought firmly in mind, he finally relented and bit the bullet, raising his hand to knock, signaling his presence in the process.
Well, there was no turning back now.
