"As in actual gods? Of what kind?" the question seemed to amuse her, an in turn a soft quiet smile played on her lips, something almost nostalgic as if he had brushed against a memory. Mm… yes, she would say at last, voice easy, like it wasn’t nearly as strange as it should have been. Actual gods.

Her head tipped slightly, resting just enough that her temple brushed faintly against his shoulder now the contact was casual and unguarded. The old ones, who argued like lovers. They were beautiful, and petty; impossible to ignore she went on, her eyes drifting somewhere distant for a moment before a faint breath of laughter followed. "Where did you come from?"

You'd know some of their names, I think. Zeus, Aphrodite, Dionysus... she let them fall from her tongue like old friends, lived with rather than worshipped. I didn't pray to them, not the way the others did. I lived...near them, around what they left behind. The stories, rituals, indulgences. She shifted slightly then, settling more comfortably against him as though the telling itself was something she intended to linger in. There’s a place in those stories, she continued, where travelers are offered rest and food, a forgetting of everything that came before.

Her eyes; half lidded as her voice dipped lower.

Λωτοφάγοι she murmured, before giving him the translation. Lotus Eaters, I was one of them. Most people might think it a curse, to forget...to let the world go on without you

A small smile tugged at her mouth.

But, I never minded.

—

For a long time she listened, the warmth between them unchanged. There was something beautiful in the way he spoke about his memories, where most spoke of painful things as burdens to be discarded Gekirin spoke of them as pieces of himself. They were wounds, but wounds that had shaped him. When she was younger, she would have thought him foolish. Back then she had seen suffering as unnecessary, a fire one could simply step away from. The lotus had offered simple answers to difficult questions, rest, comfort and oblivion wrapped in sweetness. She, like many had accepted those gifts eagerly and for a long time never regretted it.

You know, she murmured at last, there was a time when I would have argued with you a faint smile touched her maw. I would have told you memories are overrated, that grief serves no purpose and keeping it when you have the chance to let it go is little more than stubbornness her amusement deepened at this, I was very convincing too, entire islands agreed with me the joke was aimed more at herself than anything else.

But the older I become, the more I realize forgetting takes things you never intended to lose. her eyes drifted downward for a moment. It never stops at the pain, it takes the joy too, the people, and the lessons, there are faces I can no longer remember for the first time since they'd met, there was a trace of melancholy beneath her words.

As for the gods... she began, tilting her head. I wouldn't call myself divine. I simply happened to live in a world where the line between mortal and divine was thinner than most people would like. she mused, but curiosity drew her away from them.

But what of your pantheon, Gekirin? Were they apart of your upbringing, stories your mother told you?

—

"When I was younger, I think that I would have agreed with you too" she smiled at this, the idea of him agreeing, but silently let it pass. It was the compliment that caught her off guard. "You are quiet beautiful." she was not embarrassed by such things, the opposite in fact she had always accepted admiration with the same ease she would sunlight, good food, or company. But there was something about the way he said it which made her pause, an observation more than flattery.

A warm laugh escaped her, soft and genuine. Well, that's certainly the nicest thing anyone has said to me today. the smile on her face lingered, softening as she looked up at him.

I suspect you've made the mistake of comparing me to gods you've never actually met, she said then thoughtfully, nudging her shoulder lightly against his side before her attention moved as he shared a snippet of his past with her.

And over time, the warmth in her expression faded, as she took his story very seriously and after he was finished, and after a moment of silence she would mutter, That sounds lonely

What was she like? she asked then, ears flicking forward. I know she taught you stories, Lull would continue. I know she raised children she believed worthy of inheriting what she'd built, but that's not the same thing curiosity touched her eyes.

What about the real things? she asked, her smile widening My mother had a terrible singing voice, absolutely terrible. But she sang anyway all the time; loudly and with confidence her eyes gleamed with amusement as she laughed.

—