You’ve landed on your feet, though a cat in the gutter you were not. Could never be, in spite of all the obstacles you faced. Whimsy and imagination strong enough to combat the reality of destitution. And, perhaps, you never truly suffered it, when your sister was there to cushion you at every turn, protect you from the hardships of lessened wealth. And now, it seems, the wheel has turned again, laid anchor with poverty as before, and been beaten at its game. While you hold a flame so bright, with naivete as its name, the credit is not yours to take, a cost you can not claim. Yet, for this loss, your rose tinted glasses are not necessary. Why would they be when you have found yourself in a place of such renown to work and live, a mentor held in reverence. You have flown the coop with such aplomb, and reached such heady heights.
Spare a thought for your dear sister though, of course we must, for tragedy has struck her a harsh blow. Thus you have a job twicefold, to ensure her happiness, and more than that to bring her hope. First you must restore her confidence in love for trust again to bloom. And, as your employ is with Aphrodite, you are sure the task will be easily met. Perhaps you should have accounted for the risk that lovers take, might recognise the urge to move against such plight, might realise you have pinned your hope to hate. Yet you were always blind by youth, by innocence, to fate.