Look, do you see it? All those small dots, the people who look up at me from the ground. Do you see them? You may have to squint. I wish I could scoop them all up and cradle them close. Oh, how I just adore humanity. And see the deities on Olympus? They look up at me too. Urania (how come I know that name?) looks at me with hatred, how come? I want to scoop them all up and hold them all close too. I want to know all of them. But the more I hope, the more my heart (do stars have hearts?) aches. I don’t remember what it’s aching for. I hope they don’t know that when I’m burning so bright, it’s because the ache is consuming me. You’d think that’s what a constellation would want, to burn bright. But I’m missing something so bad, and I don’t know what. I look at the constellations around me, I see them burning especially bright sometimes, and I wonder, what are you aching for?
They got what they wanted. Thetis got their constellation, these fuckers on Olympus get their goddess of deceit. And of course they didn’t ask what I wanted, because why the fuck would they? Put my vessel on strings, load it up with ichor and energy, and now I’m the goddess of whatever the fuck Apate once was. “Had it coming for killing her” they say. They’ll get their goddess. Oh, trust me. They’ll get their fucking deceit If that’s what they want. They’ll get so much more. I won’t share wine and ambrosia with them. I’ll drink from the Styx, I’ll kindle my hatred like Hestia kindles her hearth. I’ll make whatever came out of Pandora’s Jar look like a fucking blessing.
