#scfthecate

this is a good question! it doesn’t necessarily have to be a crossroad that cars travel upon, but maybe just a crossing of two footpaths, or two trails on a nature walk somewhere! i would even suggest the latter is the easiest, and would probably feel a little more private with your thoughts.

hecate: hi

persephone: hi

artemis: (literally has a band of girls with her 24/7) hi

athena: hi

hestia: hi

aphrodite: hi

hecate knew what the upstairs twelve thought of her marriage to hermes. he was the golden boy, with winged sandals that heralded their news. he was a psychopomp. he was a trickster, a ruffian- 

and what was she? the crone, the triple witch, the mother of monsters. yes, the maiden too- but her innocence was tainted by her cthonic residence and her crime of existence.

they were fire and ice, two sides of the same coin- but she a titan and he an olympian. magic and tricks, psychopomp and necromancer; they equalled and balanced each other in every respect, yet he was their favourite son and she was... tolerated... and yet only due to her betrayal of her kind in the fated titanomachy. 

she couldn’t help but yearn for a greater acceptance, for her to be truly welcomed by the heavenly family. it was silly, but she sometimes truly despised herself. she was never good enough for them, so how could she be good enough for him? the one bright enough to steal one of apollon’s own cows, mere hours after birth. the favourite, the cherubic, the golden. the love of her life, even if he had taken too many mistresses to count during their marriage. 

she hated how giddy she became around him, the way she giggled and played and loved with her whole heart- gods, if her parents could see her now- but he brought out a happy side of her that people rarely witnessed. even if it was for a brief time before he returned back to his next flavour of the week- another wife, or even a mortal. and so she returned back to the cold, calculating witch that everyone believed her to be.