why did it feel like a trap ? no one ever asked a god such a question. no one but eileithyia she would absolutely be the one to come up with something like that. still, he had the feeling that no matter what answer he gave, she'd find a way to turn it against him. something like 'if you pick a pickle, it means you're a terrible person, uncle.'

"well, i wouldn't go that far--" zeus insisted, though anyone with eyes could see that they were struggling severely. eileithyia was there for a small family gathering of them, hera, and their children, and their wife had specifically instructed them to put together a charcuterie board. no cooking involved! and everyone would be oh-so impressed.

except zeus didn't even know how to cut the fruit or cheese in a way that was appealing, much less put the entire board together.

@eileithyiia asked: "Next time, I suggest we mix all of Dio's secret liquor together, to make a fun cocktail, please say 'no'!" (To Ari)

unprompted ask | Always Accepting

"I would agree to, but I'm just as bad as you when tipsy. You suggested it at the worst possible time. You're a fun drunk, nobody around here will do anything but encourage you."

If you wanted people to dissuade you from drunken chaos, visiting Dionysus, Ariadne and the maenads was the wrong path.

The bed slightly creaked as Ariadne sat herself carefully on the edge, beside her friend who was still recovering. A hand slowly offered her a stone glaze mug full of a steaming sweet-smelling concoction.

many would speak of his bad parenting, the way he seemed to care little abbout those who called him father. perhaps they were not wrong. distance had always been easier than presence, authority easier than affection. but then again, they had never seen him around eileithyia. the way his entire being seemed to quiet in her presence, as if even the storm within him knew better than to rise. the way he cared for her as though she were something fragile. not because she was, but because the thought of losing her had always lingered somewhere deep, unspoken.

he was gentle, careful. and he tried, in the only way he knew how, to hide from her the worst parts of him. the parts that ruled, that conquered ... that broke. he cared only that she remained untouched by that world, the one he could see so clearly. the one he himself had helped shape into something both magnificent and cruel.

he sat quietly on a bench, the sun toouching his skin, its warmth welcome against the stillness of the moment. the king of the skies remained there, watching eileithyia as she played with a butterfly that had come to her on its own, as if even nature felt safe drawing near her. a soft smile rested on the god's lips, rare and unguarded. if was in moment like these that he felt less like a god and more like a man. and for reasons he would never fully admit, he found himself holding onto that feeling, but only when she was the one who gave it to him.

❝ be careful, eileithyia. we don't want your mother to get mad at me for letting you get that dress dirty. ❞ his tone carried soft amusement, a quiet warmth beneath. hera always wanted everything to be as perfect as it could be. but zeus ... zeus had always believed that a little freedom was worth the mess. perhaps that was what kept them apart. or perhaps, it was moments like this that reminded him he did not know how to be both things at one, a good king and a good father.

200 random prompts | Accepting

"Stubbornness? Pride? Unrelenting competitiveness? What are you referring to?"

Amphitrite's voice is amused, a wry smile on her face as she slants her gaze towards her niece with raised brows before glancing back at her husband who is engaged in a rather heated physical competition with several of his nephews, and Zeus. Because of course they can never resist trying to one-up each other. At least it offers her some nice eye-candy on top of being entertaining, though she still shakes her head in mock disapproval and sighs, tilting her gaze again to Eileithyia.

eileithyia's voice surprised hera, but only for a second. then a bright smile came to rest upon the goddess' lips as her eyes found her perfect daughter standing there. the maidens around her stopped what they were doing as hera lifted one elegant hand, gesturing softly towards the young goddess. ❝ come, darling, of course you can. ❞

the other women smiled quietly as the queen dismissed them with a subtle motion of her fingers, asking them to step away and leave the two of them alone. she would not need their help while eileithyia was there. and if the young goddess wished to braid her mother's hair, how could hera ever deny her such a simply, tender request ? she stepped down gracefully, her hands resting lightly against the fabric of the dress she wore, smoothing it almost absently. ❝ i would love you to do so. ❞

          𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐄   has   his   gripes   with   the   divine,   verso   knows   better   than   the   slight   them   aloud.   they’ve   no      obligation   to   aid   him   nor   hear   his   prayers   (he’s   fairly   certain   his   own   father   blocked   his   number),   but   this   does   not   mean   that   they   will   ignore   when   he   dares   to   insult   them.                  once,   he   swears,   he   uttered   hephaestus’   name   as   a   curse   -   and,   rather   promptly,   the   rental   car   he   was   using   at   the   time   broke   down.   it   could   have   merely   been   that   the   thing   had   been   driven   for   far   longer   than   it   should   have   been,   &&   that   verso   had   neglected   tending   to   the   flashing   lights   on   the   dashboard,   but   verso   insisted   it   was   instead   a   matter   of   the   gods.                  case   &&   point:   when   verso   prays,   it   is   typically   because   one   of   two   things   have   occurred.   the   first   is   that   he   has   sustained   an   injury   that   threatens   his   life;   he   prays   then   not   for   mercy,   but   to   curse   the   gods   with   what   might   be   his   final   breath.   the   second   is   that   he   is   bored,   drunk,   or   some   manner   of   intoxicated,   &&   is   so   desperate   for   conversation   that   he   would   risk   being   smote.                tonight   is   one   of   the   latter   cases.   with   all   the   care   of   an   uninvited   funeral   attendee,   he   tosses   a   few   strips   of   meat   into   a   quite   literal   dumpster   fire,   &&   grumbles   a   half-hearted   prayer.                  ❝ o’   mighty   gods…   bless   me   with   your   appearance,   yadda-yadda-yadda,   you   know   the   schpeal. ❞   he   takes   a   breath,   rolls   his   shoulders,   &&   adds,   ❝   if   you   could   spare   me   either   a   cure   for   a   hangover   or   twenty   bucks,   i   promise   to   not   bother   you   for   a   few   weeks. ❞

@eileithyiia // starter call !!

❛ oh— ❜ admitting to herself that a trip to the infirmary was warranted for the cut snaking across her forearm had been a difficult enough struggle (and what a struggle it had been), but encountering a divine guest? suffice to say this is the last time she'll be paying a visit to the infirmary in the foreseeable future. any sort of interaction with just about anyone is just barely preferable to bleeding out but having to tread around a goddess? just take her out already!

not that said goddess announces herself as such. there's no name card hanging over her head, no lanyard with an id card, but there is a sort of power crackling through the air, a frisson of energy that feels otherworldly. not to mention that she could now vaguely recall an apollo camper once mentioning that the goddess eileithyia was one of the few deities who made any effort to visit camp. not that aurelia had believed them.

❛ so you really do visit camp, i thought the apollo campers must have been hallucinating. surely you could just have a messenger drop all that stuff out here so you don't have to do it yourself? ❜ hard to believe that an olympian would be so altruistic towards the offspring of the gods.