c a r r i o n

Megara jogs after her, but stops a few yards away, noting the dead end; he knows better than to make himself the body between Alecto and the only escape route. Carefully, like approaching a caged lion, he steps to the side, approaching at an angle, the path out open beside him, every movement telegraphed. He keeps his hands in his pockets, casual.

“Alecto?” He’s close enough to catch the tail-end of her muttering, and frowns. “Did something happen? What are you doing?”

“Nothing happened, but--” Alecto turns to look at Meg, eyebrows pulling together. She hated the concern in their voice, hated that it made her want to spill and spill until there was nothing left.

It’s only the second week, and still, the feeling of being split in several directions hasn’t left Alecto. The threat of succumbing even further into their familiarity only grows after the party. After Than knelt at her hand, after she gave Hypnos the seashells she’d collected for them, even Dusa in the bathroom. Their safe haven of scented candles and marble walls, a chair pushed in front of the door to keep anyone else from entering. 

There were plenty of things to draw Alecto in. The threat of falling prey to them under the gaze of others was what kept her withdrawn. To blow the operation this early? It would be childish. She’d been careless with a lot of things, but this was important to her. It had to be, after all of this preparation, after all of the thought put into this, after testing Nyx and Hades’ boundaries on what they would allow her to do. 

To make it worth something, she had to not fuck it up. But to do that, she had to stop seeking them out. 

This time, though, this time it is not Alecto who seeks out Meg. Instead, they stand on the other end of a very long hallway. It’s like every other time, and Alecto is beginning to fucking hate Pontius and its stupid hallways. Things had been tense, the last they left them, and they weren’t sure they were in the right mind to address it, or even assess the damage that’d been done. 

 alecto   was   the   tisiphone’s   first   and   only   thought   when   they   were   given   the   pontius   assignment .   truly ,   they   were   the   only   reason   to   board   this   ship   at   all .   to   see   alecto .   see   them   in   person .   see   that   they   were   okay .   alive .   breathing .   one   piece .   and   so   within   seconds   of   dropping   their   bags   off ,   they’re   on   the   hunt .   there’s   nothing   to   say   in   mind ,   not   really .   well ,   there’s   a   million   things   to   say ,   a   million   thoughts .   a   million   altogether   unpleasant   feelings .   but   there’s   no   way   to   sum   it   neatly .   they   just   knew   they   needed   to   see   her .   so   see   tisiphone   sliding   across   floors ,   taking   corners   a   little   too   rough ,   and   entirely   on   accident   stumbling   into   the   right   hallway .   it   only   takes   ten   minutes  flat .   something   about   a   honing   beacon .   something   about   an   internal   compass .   something   about   home ,   ties ,   family .   maybe   something   about   fury .

 and   oh ,   she’s   alive .   chaos .   alive   and   whole .   and   every   thought   of   betrayal ,   feigned   or   otherwise ,   every   unkind   word   alecto   said ,   everything   that   happened ,   it’s   all   left   her .   oh .   she’s   alive .   she’s   okay .   the   anger ,   the   hurt ,   it’s   washed   off  ;   or   maybe   pushed   down  ;   or   maybe   turned   to   something   else .   because   they’re   real .   and   they’re   there .   tisiphone’s   arms   are   around   them   before   they’ve   even   processed   the   impulse   to   embrace .   she   breathes   into   their   shirt ,   pulls   them   tight   to   her .   as   if   she   let   go ,   alecto   would   disappear   again .   slip   away   again .   run   to   a   far   corner   of   the   planet   again .   never   be   seen   again .

 i   know .   sisterly   absolution   is   offered   in   sign   as   tisiphone   tilts   her   head   back   finally ,   sniffs ,   wipes   at   her   eyes .   and   she   does ,   she   does   know .   but   you   could’ve   told   me .   you   didn’t   have   to   lie .   i   don’t   care   what   she   said .   you   didn’t   have   to   lie   to   me .   hoarse   spoken   words   are   tacked   onto   the   end   for   good   measure ,   a   wet   laugh   escaping   along   with   them :    ❛ ❛   you   fucking   bitch .   ❜ ❜    tis ,   one   hand   still   around   alecto ,   goes   to   tuck   a   loose   strand   of   hair   back   behind   their   ear .   there   is   time   for   anger .   vitriol .   indignation .   but   right   now ,   this   moment  ?   no .   for   this   moment ,   and   maybe   just   for   this   moment ,   tisiphone   gets   to   have   alecto   back .   she’s   decided .

Alecto keeps telling themself that if things were different, they wouldn’t have had to do this. They wouldn’t have to extend a part of themself to plunge the blade through Poseidon’s operation. If they were different, softer, maybe -- if they were capable of drowning their sorrows in ways that weren’t a bludgeoning. If they knew how to let things go, they wouldn’t be here. Instead, they would have arrived with the rest, would have thrown her arm over Dusa’s shoulder, while the other hung around Hypnos’s. 

But here, they are somebody else. Here, they have cut ties. But before they can fall into this idea of self-sacrifice, or rather, self-annihilation, Tisiphone is throwing their arms around her. Tisiphone parts far too quickly, and Alecto finds themself wanting to tug her closer. They want to press their nose into the crook of her neck, to inhale home. Instead, Alecto looks down, feels the absence of her already, even though Tisiphone’s hands are still brushing her skin.

A tearful Tisiphone in front of her, speaking in a code only the Asphodels knew, a flair kept special for Alecto and Alecto alone. She understands it immediately, and wastes no time in signing back, It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you, it was that I didn’t trust myself to make it look believable. Maybe that was a part of the truth. Maybe there was something else within it. 

“Mm, yeah, I could’ve guessed most of that,” Dolus agreed, wry amusement in his expression. Not on water and underground were just about givens. Perhaps an indication that Alecto didn’t want to talk about her past. Of course, that only served to make him more interested. Bad memories, perhaps? It wouldn’t be surprising, given that clip he’d seen of her fight with her employer.

“Better alcohol, though? Not sure about that one, love. Stronger, maybe, but taste matters too.” He wrinkled his nose. “As I recall, last time I was in Tartarus, all the drinks tasted like gasoline. Oh, but don’t worry. Your taste will improve in no time, I’m sure. We’ll just have to indoctrinate you.”

He winked at Alecto. “So, like, what are you going to be doing here? What division were you hired to?” He tilted his head as he scrutinized her. He didn’t think that Khton had many programmers, though he supposed he didn’t know much about their business model. “What did you do back in Tartarus?”

--

This would be the part of the conversation that Alecto would slip from. Feign business, or rather, disinterest. But she’s supposed to be somebody new here, and while she felt little to no need to continue the conversation, there was a part of her that wanted to know why it was Dolus spoke her name as if she were an old friend. She’d been a child then, and she could hardly remember her own sibling’s face, let alone that of somebody who now had their nose stuck into a tablet. 

“Taste doesn’t matter, it’s about what gets you drunk quicker. It’s cheaper that way, too.” The last thing Alecto wanted to do was argue about liquor, but the urge to defend Tartarus dies at the back of her throat. “Sweet shit gives me headaches, it’s why I prefer the stuff from back in Tartarus, but yeah, I’m sure I’ll figure out how to stomach it.” Mixed drinks weren’t a necessity, but she had a habit of attributing places like Arcadia, Olympe, and Pontius to them. 

“Security. I’ve been working with Hercules.” Alecto watches Dolus for a moment before speaking again, “back in Tartarus? A version of the same. Made sure people didn’t touch our dancers.” They leave out how they danced, too, when needed. “Nothing special.” Alecto shrugged. “Pretty much the same shit every day. Hence the need for change, you know.” 

All of Alecto’s life, they’ve been able to look upon their past as if gazing through a never ending mirror. All of the intricate details were there, it was as if she could reach out, scrape her nail against them and come away with blood, dust, or ash -- but what happens when a past only having been split from shows up on your newly acquired doorstep? 

None of it had been real, and it’s something that they tell themselves every time they catch a glimpse of the Tartarus crew. None of it had been real, and she’d set the whole thing up under the guise of getting Nyx and Hades information. 

But how many times could she remind herself of that fact, especially when she’d been faced with their broken faces, had seen the hurt embed and reflect back to her -- it was in part a haunting, and in part a means to an end. 

There is something in how she looks at him now—like he really is a firefly, a worm turned moth, caught in a jar of their making, glass wings and glass heart all on display and threatening a shattering—that makes him itch to claw out of his own skin in protest.

It’s always been like this. Them, older and wild and forever racing ahead blind. And him, the youngest, the least like the rest of this motley pack of misfits he calls family, kept sheltered for far too long in a misguided venture of love. He never wanted their pity, never needed their careful handling. If he breaks, he’ll break and piece himself back together, the same as them—the same as he’s done for so many of them time and time again.

So don’t assign the blame so easily, he wants to tell her. Don’t rush into deciding that it’s on you alone to shoulder the aftermath of something beyond either of them. If he cannot let go of anything said, that is his reality to deal with and his demons to fight. She has enough of her own without taking on his as well. “It’s fine, Alecto,” he says instead, a cracked record on repeat as many times as it takes for the words to become truth. “It is.”

Maybe not yet, not right this moment, but it will be. This job will end, just like they all must eventually, and she will come back to them. Because Pontius has yet to sink into her proper, she’s said so herself—Tartarus is still home, and he’s selfish enough to admit a small prick of relief at hearing that.

She drops his wrist and he steps closer, the one to bridge the gap this time. Reaching up to cup her cheeks in his palms, he runs his thumbs over the bruises under her eyes, pressing gently. “Are you still having the nightmares?”

It’s fine, Alecto. 

Alecto bites their tongue, keeps from telling Hypnos to stop telling them what’s fine and what’s not. Because maybe it is -- maybe there’s a part of Hypnos that has grown past what Alecto has pinned them as. They’ve long since grown from a child, and Alecto knows that, but the feeling, the thought -- it’s still there, and it burrows evenly into her chest. 

“Alright.” She says it, and though disbelief colors her tongue, she allows them to have this. To skew her words, this meaning -- the entirety of it. Olympe. The things she said. Apologies crawl from the back of her throat again and she stomps them out, folds them under her tongue for safekeeping, for when Hypnos is actually ready to accept them. Because maybe it’s the fact that they aren’t. Aren’t ready to accept it, aren’t ready to think about the words she wildly threw at them that night in the hallway as she stormed away from the only life she’d ever known. 

Alecto stares down the line of their nose, looks at Hyp in the eye only when they take a step closer. The feeling of their hands is gentle -- wanted, and she leans into it, though there’s voices in the back of her head that scream you do not deserve this, you do not deserve this, you do not-- 

“I look like shit, huh?”

A smile tugs at the corner of Than’s mouth like meathooks. He’s not trying to be cruel, not entirely, but he is a little when he says, “yeah, well. Detoxing off of Hyp’s shit will do that to you, I guess. You sure missed out on whole heaps of fun back home.” The fingers that were in Than’s hair are against his temple now, dragging down. Cheekbone, cheek, jaw. Jugular. Making a face from this not-quite-feeling. His hand lands somewhere around his collar, splays flat against the sun-warmed skin there. 

His throat bobs with the next bit – relax, Lec. Or, do you, Alecto? Give a fuck about me? Or, oh, come off it. You’ve seen me worse. Thanatos finds he can’t quite make the words no matter how he cuts it. They’re somehow both too unkind and too light for their situation; this strange trading of half-truths, of bringing bruises into the light but leaving them untouched. 

Is Thanatos wounded by Alecto’s choice, truly? Not really. He understands it too much for the blade to catch. He would do the same – still might, if the circumstances aligned, earth on a fault. Planets in an orbit. Here, a flaw in the greater plan: Nyx and Hades would never ask this sort of duplicity from infantry. It will always be up to them to offer their necks for the ax. And they will always say thank you when it comes swinging down.

“Both our asses, by the way.” The hand that isn’t at his collar points at her, index finger first. “Risking both of our asses for this. I was doing really well, you know. Wasn’t talking to anyone on my big red ‘DO NOT INTERACT’ list. ‘Course you had to go and fuck it, huh?”

There is not much that can make Alecto feel small, but in this moment, the room that she and Than stand in begins to feel smaller, as if concaving. They continue to say the wrong things, and it’s like this that it will stay, they think. There’s a life beyond this ship that Alecto is no longer a part of. There is a tide that pulls her to them now that they’ve arrived, but what else? Than was right, there was a lot that she had missed out on. Their terrors, their sacrifices, their merriment. 

To expect anything out of Thanatos but this was dishonor to the memory she’s carved for him in her breast. To think that her closest friend could stand across from her and speak anything but truths, no matter how they cut, no matter the shrapnel they cast. It was silly, thinking that Thanatos would be grateful she’d pulled them aside. 

“I did what I had to do,” Alecto starts, feels her throat drying out, tongue too big for her mouth ( again ), swelling, deflating, words spinning off like ice disks making way down a glacier. “Now, then, all of it.” Alecto wants to close the space, but this feels too familiar. It feels as it did with Nyx -- there’s a choice in this matter, and Alecto had made it back in Olympe.

He chuckles. “Ah, no. I’ll find someone to tussle with who’s a bit more random, if I do.” Mino’s eyebrows rise a little and he wants to ask if they really think that, that they’re hated. There’s something he could say here, about how he didn’t hate his own brother but — no. Alecto and him were not that close. “Fair enough. I get that, too. Do what feels best, y’know.” The words feel like they fall flat. “Better to tread a bit too careful than too recklessly, I suppose. Still, I should hope that what transpired between you and Nyx doesn’t ruin all other relationships you have.”

It was a long time. Mino wonders if he and Theseus will have found their way out of Tartarus, by then, or if he will have opted to stay. It’s hard, to think of the future when so much seems to hang in the balance, when he seems such a follower by his own design and decision. “I hope so, Alecto.” He gives a bit of a sad smile and says little else on the matter.

“Sure, yes.” Dreams were lies. He can feel himself growing more and more bitter the more he stands here, staring at that horizon. None of it is Alecto’s fault, as it is entirely his own. This place, it seems even more taxing on his melancholic yet bitter spirit than Olympe had. He looks at Alecto for a moment, thinks of Nyx and Hades and all those orphans in the House. “Maybe she will. Or maybe they will see that they’re adults, now. No longer the children they once were.” But was he not chasing boy dreams too, sometimes? Longing for his brother’s hand back in his? Longing for the glory of those earlier days? “We’ll see.”

--

“Probably a good choice. A safe one, and I will judge you on that alone.” Alecto looks down at their hands, stares at the lines that could be scars -- age, or simply the life she’s lived laid overtop like a canvas. “Mmm, when have you ever known me to be careful? But I guess this situation is a little different.” Alecto takes a deep breath, clenches their jaw. There was a lot more to this than Mino would get out of this conversation -- for herself, it was familiarity, even if based upon the fact that Mino simply wasn’t aware of her half-truths. 

There’s a finality to Mino’s words, Alecto thinks. The kind that could make a heart sink if they didn’t know better. He speaks with heart, and it was one of the first things she noticed about him. Even if she’d never admit it, even in the ring, their conversations had helped subdue some of her more illogical moments. 

“Maybe.” She doesn’t want them to leave - wants them to be right where she left them when she finally returns, but who’s to say that there’d be anything left of her once she was able to? What would Pontius make of her? A coward? A Traitor, certainly, but only to Hades’ brotherhood. It would be Poseidon she would have to stake, not the idea of what home meant and how Hades Rhea played a part in that for a very long time. Her stomach twists, and she does her best to ignore it. “We’ll see,” Alecto echos, leaning forward against the railing. “It’ll have to have been worth it, one way or another.” 

Patroclus would agree, Tartarus seemed to be darker than anywhere else he has ever been but it had a different kind of light to it, maybe it was mostly the people. “I don’t think it’s only Tartarus, I thought Olympe was too bright as well.” It was the only place the felt the least like home, despite having plenty his own friends from there. 

There was a soft smile on his face. “That’s good, I’m happy to hear that.” He just hoped that Alecto could keep themselves safe for the rest of the summit, despite Tartarus being here.

“You deserve a new beginning, I think everyone here can understand that, which is why they’re all so willing to help.” Because they were in their position as well once, including Patroclus but he didn’t mention that to Alecto. Patroclus wondered if Alecto knew kindness in Tartarus at some point before their fight with Nyx, but he didn’t dare ask such a question. “Once again, if there’s anything you need, do let me know.”

“At least I’m not alone in that, then.” Patroclus could have been from Aegea, but based on that alone, whether or not he thought it a slip, it tells something she should know about her new co-workers. Even if it wouldn’t do her well to know, any and all information would become beneficial in the long run. 

“I hope to be a person that deserves one.” Alecto looks over at Patroclus, her own smile fading. If they wanted her to be the broken bird, the young adult that could be rebuilt, rewired, then she would pretend to be that. At least for now. “I appreciate it. I think, right now,” Alecto leans away, tosses a glance towards the stairwells, “I have a debriefing, so maybe I should head to that. Thanks again.” 

“Thank Chaos we’re on the ocean, then.”  He smiles crookedly. A tired attempt at a jest; with the exhaustion, it sounds a bit like sarcasm. A bit of a reach to expect a newcomer not to take it personally, but Hephaestus expects they’re made of tougher stuff, coming from Tartarus. 

He couldn’t pretend to fully understand the intricate infrastructure of Tartarus and the House of Hades, but he remembered what it had been when Hades first came, remembers visiting once, for his wedding, how it’d been dangerous even then. Wonders how it must be now, for one to outgrow the new reign as this one does. “What kind of busy was it over there?” Hephaestus nods, faint. “There are some things you can’t prepare for, even if you do your best to anticipate them. Are you worried they will give you a hard time, here, on Pontius? Should we be concerned?”

Dolus’s lips twisted into a doubtful expression. He hadn’t even considered it, but they were right: Alecto wasn’t a very common name. “Born to the streets” was a weird thing to say, too. But he supposed Tartarus did have that whole war thing, way back when. It made sense that there were a lot of orphans around.

Still — she must have had parents at some point. And the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that Alecto was an Aegean name. Weird coincidence, he chalked it up to, but he’d never been satisfied with weird coincidences. Perhaps he could do some probing around into this Alecto’s past later? For the moment, he forced a smile.

“If you say so. But I have some connections to the locals, if you ever want to look into it. Maybe your parents were from here, if they named you Alecto.” He lifted a shoulder. “Sorry to probe. People tell me I’ve got a habit of doing that. An inquisitive mind! Speaking of, what do you think of Pontius? Is it very different from Tartarus? I’ve visited, but living there must be different.”

--

Alecto hadn’t figured she’d run into anyone who might recall her name. She wondered if Dolus knew her sibling, too. Carrion had been a name she’d given herself after making peace with her past being long gone, so at the very least, if they asked that, then she’d have something to back up the fact that she wasn’t from Aegea, even if that was very much a boldfaced lie. 

They watched Dolus’s expression as it worked against the misinformation they gave him. There was a hint of something else there, doubt, maybe. She’d whittle it away over time. There was no point in acting out now, not when she was fresh on this chaos-damned ship. 

“Maybe? I’m not too sure. I don’t really remember much before Tartarus, if anything at all.” Alecto offered a smile, though there was hesitance -- implied uncertainty, maybe Dolus would pick up on it, maybe he wouldn’t. “It’s not a big deal. I’m new here, it makes sense that you’d want to know more.” It seemed their tablet was forgotten, and now Alecto was pressed into the box of newcomer -- at least they achieved something out of this conversation. “It’s different. Not on water. Lived underground, better alcohol,” Alecto shrugged, “but if you’ve visited, I’m sure you knew those things.” 

Apollo has a hard time remembering so many people, and given his current state of mind, there was no way he was to recognize Alecto. But he was glad that the tenseness had subsided, and he was realizing that perhaps he was, in fact, a bit tired in this moment.

He does as instructed, rolling back his sleeve and holding out his arm to her to do as she pleases. “May I ask why you’re doing this? Are you on damage control at this event?” It would probably be smart, having people designated to make sure that things did not go awry, and that those causing issues were to be ‘handled’. He’s just curious if there had been instructions to follow him specifically.

“Oh, I have no doubt about that. I do wonder if any of them will match up to you, though.” It’s a compliment, spoken without any intention but to compliment. Even if it is a bit of an exaggeration. There were plenty in Tartarus who were a fair match to Mino. “It’s only natural, isn’t it? I know the terms you left on weren’t the best, but even so. Most of these people you’ve known a while, I’m sure the people here will understand you talking to them.” Or did Pontius have a mentality similar to that of Tartarus? Mino hoped not. 

He laughs. “Fine, I’ll bear the burden of having done an unforgivable thing to you forever. It’s just another thing on the list.” Mino is quiet for a short moment, then shrugs. “Who knows where you’ll be in five years.” He hoped she’d grow more than he had failed to, this past half decade. She seemed to make wiser decisions, though.

There’s a feeling of bitterness on his tongue. A fresh start does sound fake and maybe he resents himself for having said those words, now that they’ve been spoken and processed. Because he knows, doesn’t he, that there is hardly such a thing? Ari had gotten a fresh start here, and here the demons of his past are all the same. And Mino, who had shed names twice before is weighed by all in his past continually. “Well, if you have that mentality, perhaps it is. But it does sound cliché, a fresh start … call it something else.” He ponders, for a moment. Imagines getting out of Tartarus with Theseus and finding a new life elsewhere, where they could design new identities. “Whatever it turns out to be, I hope it can be good, is all.”

--

“Probably not. I wouldn’t put the thought in their heads.” As much as Alecto wanted to openly express how ecstatic she’d be at the idea of Mino throwing ground with somebody like Megara and Than, those relationships are supposed to be severed. “Or maybe you could, it depends on if you want them to hate you, too.” Was that too much? Whatever. “I’m not sure. I don’t want to test those waters. I don’t feel like being a cause for concern, or whatever the fuck you might call it.” A sharp inhale, exhale, and Alecto brings their hand to the underside of their jaw, elbow balancing atop the railing they speak before.

“Five years? That’s a long time from now to think about.” Though she’d been given protection in Tartarus, and was promised protection here, who was to say that she wouldn’t be seen for what she was. What if Hades took her act against Poseidon as a means of betrayal? Would she be forced out, again, wandering ground in which her feet were already too tired to travel? “But who knows. Maybe I’ll have made peace with the rest of them by then.”

Alecto cuts her gaze towards Mino, “call it what, then? Something unattainable, but dreamt of?” Alecto didn’t dream of this. She dreamt of the halls she roamed alongside with the other Asphodels -- of the training ring she continuously put others to the mat of. But she can’t say that, not when she’s supposed to be a traitor. Would such a traitor, with the things they said, dream of a home they could not return to? She isn’t quite sure. “I hope so, too.” Alecto chews on the inside of her cheek. “I’m sure there’s a better future ahead for the others. Maybe Nyx will think about what I said and change the way she treats them.” Just to drive it in. 

Dolus’s eyebrows leapt upward at the introduction. He had known an Alecto once, hadn’t he? A couple years younger than him, but still the closest child in age to him on their little island. He had a hazy memory of being six when they were four, showing off his pro-wrestling moves by shoving them into a sharp rock. There’d been so much blood he’d passed out. But their face — was it the same? He remembered long dark hair, fair skin tanned by the sun, but the rest felt lost to time. (Invention idea: a device that can extract and project memories. Via MRI? He jotted this down on his tablet.)

“Alecto,” he echoed. “You said you’re from Tartarus, but —” But Alecto’s family had moved away when he was seven. Everyone had been moving away; the flooding had made the island inhospitable, and it had been getting increasingly harder to find fish in the rapidly-changing ocean. Perhaps they could have ended up in Tartarus.

“Did you ever live in the Aegean Archipelago?” He knew how strange it sounded as soon as he asked it, face warming. “You remind me of someone I knew when I was young.”

Alecto’s gaze clipped down to the way Dolus tapped against their tablet. Words that she can’t see flashed across the screen, or possibly diagrams. She wondered what it would take to get her hands on it, or if she’d be met with precautions -- probably, a recording of her face, too, flashing across the screen. It was a wonder that Aphrodite’s hadn’t called her out in this manner.

You said you’re from Tartarus, but.

Alecto remains stone faced as Dolus works against a memory that is clearly rising. Alecto raised a brow. “I’m not sure how common my name is, but,” Alecto shrugged, “maybe there’s somebody out there. I was born to the streets. It’s pretty common there.” Make them feel like they’ve got a first person view into Tartarus, Alecto thought, maybe they’d be more interested in that than pondering the existence of somebody he thought he knew.

The possibility of being in Tartarus again makes Patroclus think of the possibilities, what would he do after not seeing his former home for so long? Maybe walk toward his favorite places, trying to see how things have changed or maybe visit the places that he knew now are already destroyed, just to see it with his own two eyes instead of in pictures. It didn’t matter though, did it? Because Patroclus could never go back to Tartarus. 

A chuckle escaped from his lips. Patroclus was reminded of his training and the darkness that surrounded Tartarus at times. “So it really is that dark, uh?” There was hope somewhere in him that the change in leadership would’ve brighten Tartarus somewhat, but maybe it was always doomed to be dark.

 “It’ll take a while though.” A heavy sigh. Patroclus also felt strange after finding himself in Arcadia, memories and training added to his panic and missing his person that was still back there didn’t help matters. “As I said, nobody is rushing you, just try to make yourself as comfortable as you can here.”

“I’m sure you heard us-- Me, the others, the people from Tartarus,” Alecto starts, correcting herself evenly, “complaining, constantly, about how bright Olympe was.” Tartarus wasn’t as dark as she made it out to be -- they were her shadows, and hers alone. She shared them with the others, but each held the light differently in their hands. Some would speak differently about the neon lights, the lamps, the vibrancy than herself. “Tartarus is dark in comparison to that.”

“Nobody’s rushing me. Poseidon’s very understanding of the situation.” She’d been surprised.