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Some Key Terms

Hellenic Polytheism: Hellenic means Greek, and Polytheism means worshipping multiple gods. So, Hellenic Polytheism is the worship of the Greek Pantheon which is also referred to as the Theoi. The people who practice could be referred to as Hellenic Polytheists. Some also call themselves Hellenic Pagans, but not all people who practice Hellenic Polytheism consider themselves pagan.

Hellenistic: you may see the term ‘Hellenistic Polytheism’, but this is my PSA to ask people not to use that, as it’s incorrect. Hellenistic refers to a specific period of Andient Greece, from 323-32 BC, and your worship is almost definitely not specifically focused on that period. Additionally, here is a post by a Greek person on why ‘Hellenism’ and ‘hellenismos’ are disrespectful.

Ouranic: this is the term for the heavenly gods. Be aware that there is some overlap between Ouranic and Chthonic deities. Whether a deity is Ouranic or Chthonic will effect things like prayer position (palms up for Ouranic) and whether offerings can be eaten or drank (yes for Ouranic)

Chthonic: this is the term for the underworld gods. Be aware that there is some overlap between Ouranic and Chthonic deities. Whether a deity is Ouranic or Chthonic will effect things like prayer position (palms down for Chthonic) and whether offerings can be eaten or drank (no for Chthonic) side note - when it comes to hero worship, I personally treat them as if they’re chthonic.

Kharis: this means reciprocity, and also refers to the relationship formed between us and the gods. Arguably the most important aspect of Hellenic Polytheism is that when you ask something of a deity, you must give an offering in return. Size of what you’re asking for should correspond to size of the offering, or if you’ve given many little offerings without asking for anything you can use that as why you should be given the Big Thing.

Xenia: guest-friendship, hospitality. The idea that any stranger could be a God in disguise, so treat everyone respectfully. It’s an Ancient Greek social custom that a lot of Hellenic Polytheists see as important today. Simply put, in modern times this most often just means being kind to strangers. There’s a lot more to it than that though, so look here. Know that Xenia is a two-way thing, so you have to be generous to your guests but they must also respect your home.

Eusebeia: basically, piety. Respecting the Gods. This is really the only ‘rule’ of Hellenic polytheism. There’ll be different ideas of what is considered respectful, but as long as you have good intentions and don’t do anything you KNOW would be offensive, you’re okay. Don’t insult the gods (any of them), don’t ask for anything without offering something else, and don’t treat yourself as equal to or higher than the theoi.

Hubris: excessive pride or dangerous overconfidence, often the fatal flaw of a lot of Greek heroes in mythology. Specifically, this is when you act better than or equal to the gods. You are not.

Libations: a type of offering, in the form of a liquid. Usually poured on the ground but can be drank (unless it’s to a chthonic deity) if you’re a closeted Hellenic polytheist who can’t just pour some liquid on the floor every time you want to offer it. My advice for food offerings/libations to chthonic deities if you’re not openly a hellenist is to offer leftovers, rotting food, or something you otherwise know will go to waste.

Altar: traditionally a place used to put physical offerings and food offerings for deities. Some people have an altar to each deity, some people have one altar for all their deities. These can be as big or as small as you want. People may use shelves, drawers, boxes, windowsills, etc, and I don’t even use mine for food offerings, only for physical ones because I usually eat the food offering (I don’t like the idea of wasting food). My altars also just serve as a dedicated space for that deity in my life.

Hero worship: this is the worship of ‘heroes’ in Greek mythology, which includes literally any mortal. For example, I worship Odysseus of Ithaca, Penelope of Ithaca, Helen of Sparta, and Tiresias of Thebes. I’ve been asked a lot about how hero worship differs from deity worship, and you can find that answer here.

Devotee: there is a lot of disagreement on what the difference between a devotee and worshipper is, but for me, I’m devoted to Athena as I feel I have the closest bond with Her of all my deities and I honour Her the most. This partly comes from my feeling that She has been with me for much longer than I’ve been aware of Her presence, and that also so much of who I am and what I value comes under Her domains.

Patron: this basically means that if part of your identity comes under the domain of a deity, then that deity is your patron. There can be occupational patrons (like Hermes is the patron of merchants) or to do with things like gender (Hera is a patron for women. Yes this includes trans women, transphobes are not welcome here.) You can have more than one patron, and you don’t need to worship all of the deities who would be considered your patron.

Epithets: these are titles given to deities. There are two types - cult epithets, which describe the aspect of a deity you’re focusing on (like Athena Ageleia, meaning ‘Protector of the People’) since they have a lot of domains and it’s important in prayers to specify what you want. Then there’s poetic epithets, which are adjectives, often used to compliment a deity. I like using these to make my prayers seem more sophisticated to be honest (example: white-armed Hera)

Unverified Personal Gnosis: gnosis is spiritual knowledge. If it’s unverified, that means that it has no basis in historical sources as far as the person is aware, and they don’t know anybody else who has the same experience. You will often see this abbreviated as UPG. Personally, I think UPG is really valid, considering a lot of things are unknown to us due to the loss of sources overtime.

Shared Personal Gnosis: gnosis is spiritual knowledge. Like UPG, Shared Personal Gnosis (often abbreviated as SPG) doesn’t have any historical backing as far as the people who believe it are aware, but it is shared by multiple different people and therefore seen by some as more valid than UPG (though I’d argue that all SPG is UPG before you know that other people agree)

Verified Personal Gnosis: gnosis is spiritual knowledge. It being verified means that there are historical sources to back up the belief, and this is commonly abbreviated to VPG. You are more likely to come across the terms UPG than SPG or VPG, and most of what Helpol people on tumblr discuss is UPG, even if they don’t state that directly.

Reconstructionist: these are people who try to ‘reconstruct’ the ancient religion, recreating ancient rituals as best they can and doing things as close as they can get to how the ancient Greeks did based on our historical sources. An important note here is that we will never be able to do this perfectly and that’s okay. When it comes to things like animal sacrifices, most of us outside of agricultural areas almost definitely don’t have the means to be doing that properly, but you can use symbolism in place of a real animal, an example an anon gave me is cutting bread into animal shapes

Revivalist: these are people who try to recreate the ‘spirit’ of the religion, though not with the exact practices that the Ancient Greeks used. Revivalists are more concerned with the values and beliefs of the ancient religion than they necessarily are with how it was practiced. I personally feel like I fall somewhere between the two, but I also think both are really valid!

Mythic Literalism

Mythic Literalism is the debate in modern Hellenic Polytheism about whether or not the myths should be taken literally — and it’s common in Helpol spades online to say that the answer is ‘no, they’re metaphorical’. But I’d actually argue that they are.

Think of the Epics like the Iliad and the Odyssey — these begin with invoking the muses, goddess of inspiration said to have perfect memory. These goddesses know every event that has ever happened and are believed to guide and speak through the poets as they recite the myths, which means that they would be reciting history. That suggests the myths happened.

This isn’t ignoring the fact there are cultural reasons behind the myths and that parts of exist to them fulfil specific functions of that god or have parts of the world that they’re trying to explain.

For example, the myth of Hades kidnapping Persephone fulfils an aspect of Hades and has a cultural aspect about marriage in Ancient Greek society. First, it’s one of the myths we have of a youth being taken too soon by death (think Apollo and Hyacinthus, Zeus and Ganymedes, Thetis and Achilles, maybe even Castor and Pollux) and the grief that causes, Hades role being of the underworld. But also in terms of Greek society it was reflective of mothers losing their daughters to marriage, too. Both these things coexist in the ‘meaning’ of the myth; but just because it has metaphors, doesn’t mean it wasn’t believed to have happened. The Greeks did view their myths as having happened.

Zeus has so many children and so many affairs and rape myths, not because it’s just a metaphor and he didn’t actually do any of that, but because he’s a male fertility god, and he’s the god of kinds, and kings do abuse their power.

The Greek gods exist as how the world is, not how we want it to be or how it should be. Take Hera, for example — she doesn’t align with the passive and idealised wives described in things like Xenophon’s Economics, but is instead how women are. Real women get angry when their husbands are awful to them, so Hera, Goddess of Women, can be angry.

It’s good to learn the ways in which these deities were understood and what their domains can represent. Myths also help us to feel more familiar with our deities. Additionally the myths tell us not to be hubristic, and things like the Iliad tell us about Oaths and Offerings and Xenia. These are important parts of helpol.

I understand the want to disregard some of the more distasteful myths that depict things not only distasteful now but that would’ve even been viewed as wrong IN antiquity. But the Greek gods are not supposed to be perfect by human standards of morals. They have good and bad aspects based on their domains.

Deity Work vs Deity Worship

I’m going to preface this section by saying that I worship deities, I don’t work with them, so even though I’m doing research on this please take everything I say about deity work with a grain of salt and note that the rest of this post might apply more to worship, because that’s what I’m familiar with. Lastly, my intention here is not to place a value judgement on either type, I just want to try and make a full explanation for anyone out there looking for one, since I’ve found it to be kind of difficult to find.

From my understanding, deity work is common among witches, and usually involves asking a deity to help with your spells or other forms of magick. When you work with a deity, you are asking them to mentor you in a sense, and there’s often a specific goal in mind that they’re hoping to achieve with help of the deity. Additionally, because of that goal-oriented relationship, deity work has deadlines(?). Like, once you’ve achieved the goal you had, the deity will stop working with you

There are similarities, as both seem to involve reciprocity and offerings, and both involve cultivating a relationship with deities, even if the nature of that relationship and the reason for offering is different.

Deity worship doesn’t have a set end-goal. You CAN stop actively worshipping a deity, but this doesn’t usually come after a specific goal is achieved because there isn’t a goal in mind. Worship is more about honouring the deity. Khakis is built out of admiration, respect and love for the deity. This is why we pray, make offerings, etc. it’s all to honour the gods. We do ask for things in deity worship, but that’s not the entire point like it is for deity work.

FAQs

Do I need to be called to worship/work with a deity?

Nope! You are 100% allowed to reach out first. You can do that by praying or making an offering. Remember to research the deity first, so you know what epithets to use, know what symbols they’re associated with, have ideas for offerings, etc. Also, if a deity calls to you, you are not obligated to worship them. Acknowledge them and move on if you don’t have time, energy, or interest in worshipping them at that time.

Where can I find information on deities?

The main site that I think everyone uses is theoi.com, which has really in-depth pages on a lot of deities, with their myths, lists of epithets, family trees, etc. it’s a really useful resource!

Do I need an altar?

No. They’re nice to have but you don’t need one straight away. It took me two years of worshipping to get any altars, and even now I don’t really use them how you’re ‘supposed’ to.

Are there any sins in Hellenic Polytheism?

No, just don’t disrespect a god (don’t disrespect any of them, even the ones you don’t worship should be respected). Also don’t show hubris.

Deity X and Deity Y don’t get along, but I want to worship both, what do I do?

Remember this is a polytheistic religion. The gods know they are not the only god you will be worshipping, and they are chill with that. If you really want, you can separate their altars if you have an altar per deity, but it’s up to you completely.

Other General Advices

This post is a starting point, nothing here is very in-depth. Do more research if anything on here is still confusing to you. Feel free to ask people here on tumblr, I’m sure most of us would be happy to help.

Don’t believe everything you see on tiktok/tumblr. We’re all still learning, a lot of us are wrong about stuff. Do other research and let yourself form your own beliefs. As I’ve said, even parts of this post should be taken with a grain of salt. I’m no expert, I just want to try to help.

If you’re going to make your own posts about helpol stuff, advice I’ve seen before that really stuck with me is ‘keep some things scared’. You don’t have to post everything. I, at the moment, don’t post my prayers or photos of my altars. Those things are what I keep scared, you should have your own things. They don’t have to be the same as mine.

You have nothing to be afraid of. The gods can be intimidating when you’re starting out, but they know we don’t have as much readily available information about this stuff as the ancient greeks did. They also know you’re new, and they will be patient with you. Don’t be scared.

You can offer anything. Digital offerings are as valid as physical offerings. Devotional acts are valid too.

Know that you will never be done learning. Accept this and commit to trying to learn anyway.

Know how to tell signs from the gods apart from just General Happenings of the world. Here is a good post on that. I have a series on my blog tagged #signs from deities, to show the kinds of things I personally recognise to be signs and to show how frequently/infrequently those can occur. I would suggest keeping your own record of those, whether or not you share it is up to you. The reason is to reflect on your journey and, if you ever doubt your gods, you can look at those lists to remind yourself of how they’ve been there for you previously.

Doubt is healthy, it’s okay to doubt things. Don’t feel bad for this, the gods understand. Let yourself question everything you feel the need to question.

Similarly, anger is healthy. It’s okay to be angry at the gods, but don’t disrespect them because you’re upset. Handle your anger well. You won’t get punished for being upset.

“I thought it was too late.” He admitted, head dropping slightly, though he didn’t pull away, still resting on a knee before me as he gently touched his brow to mine. “Figured you’d… That I’d pushed too far…” It was such a rare, devastating thing to hear that doubt in his voice, “That I’d pushed you away.” My heart stuttered at that quiet admission, and my every fiber screamed to fix it, to chase all whisper of that doubt from him, but this was too important to yield beneath that want for peace.

“I thought you were trying to push me away.” The horror that shot through him as he finally met my eyes nearly wrenched the air from my lungs, but I held myself still, needing him to understand how his silence had hurt me, how their secrets had led to this, “I thought you didn’t trust me, and you wanted to... end things on your terms.” I didn’t allow him enough time to recover, to form a reply before adding in something too close to a mumble, “Which, apparently, wasn’t as farfetched of an accusation as I thought it was…”

His hands drew back to just whisper against my jaw, expression turning somber in a way that made me pause, holding my breath to better hear what he might say.

“It’s… complicated.” He grumbled, earning a weary huff from me, but he merely shifted to nuzzle his lips against my neck before continuing. “Sharing you with the others… It’s different than if it was with anyone else… with a reg.” My stomach leapt at hearing him say it so bluntly, that fluttering of wings within my chest nearly making me gasp, but the way he snarled that last word brought me back. I knew he meant Jester, but that wasn’t who came to my mind amidst the face of his rage.

“And Echo…?” I pressed, words direct though my tone softened in a plea to really talk about this; to keep from falling into defensive posturing and inevitable frustration, and, at the way his shoulders tensed, jaw grinding as he fell silent for a long moment, I feared it would come to exactly that, but then he drew a deep, slow breath and held it for a beat. Two. Three, and then released it.

“I overreacted with Echo.” He admitted, voice low, reluctant, and I was too stunned to react, eyes wide, but then a laughter escaped me that was so sudden, so impossibly light, that he could only stare before letting out a scoffed chuckle of his own.

“I thought you were trying to kill him!” I retorted.

“I was.” His answer only made me laugh harder. It was senseless. And what he’d done warranted a far longer conversation, but I needed to laugh at it, needed to regard all of this with anything other than the hurt and blame that could so easily have sent us all spiraling even further.

“That’s more than an overreaction, Crosshair!” His lips bunched at my scolding. Still, he didn’t try to shrug my arms from where they yet lay about his shoulders, nor did his own touch weaken as he rolled his eyes, but then he leaned even closer, chest tightening slightly as his words fell into a mournful whisper.

“I thought I’d lost you.” He secreted the words against my neck, slitted gaze staring blindly at the slowly darkening bruise but careful to avoid my eyes. “And then Echo… Felt like that proved it.” There was no embarrassment in it, no blame. There was only a deep, resigned sorrow that threatened to ruin me anew. Movements languid, as though he might feel how my hands delighted in that closeness despite the heavy plastoid between us, I leaned back, fingers tracing the elegant lines of his chestplate as I robbed him of the safety in that proximity, of that obscurity in hiding too near to truly see.

“Ask me.” It was an invitation rather than an order, but it held the same weight. Still, his brows hitched, the barest glimmers of a cocky smirk toying with his lips.

“I think you’ve already answered that pretty clearly.” He hummed, body curling closer to mine with a spark of that breathtaking glee nearly hidden beneath a far safer hunger, but my hands held firm, forbidding him from crossing that precious little distance, from avoiding this, and an unspoken understanding chased that mirth from his face, leaving something far quieter in its wake. His jaw shifted behind closed lips, as though tasting each word before letting himself speak.

There was a pause, just a fleeting, terrifying handful of seconds. His eyes fled mine, dropping to where my scarcely packed bag lay forgotten at our feet, contents half scattered where it fell, and I could feel the tension in his muscles, how near he was to pushing himself up and simply walking away. I wondered what mocking comment might drip from his tongue as he denied me, dismissed the entirety of this mess in favor of the simplicity I’d robbed from him.

But then those eyes flicked back up to me, sharp and merciless and so desperate to hide the fear in them.

“Do you,” He finally asked, “still want me?” It wasn’t a whisper, but he couldn’t seem to keep his voice from dropping, nearly squirming beneath how that question tore far too deeply through him to manage anything more, and I found myself reaching up for his hand, fingers threading through his as my breath threatened to falter, loathing that he’d ever felt the need to doubt such things even as my heart soared at this moment of vulnerability he was giving me.

“Yes.” I promised; begged; gaze unwavering with a plea for him to believe me, and I shifted, dragging his palm up to press my lips against it. “There’s… a lot we need to work on… both of us… but, I want you, Crosshair.” I lived for the way his gaze softened ever so slightly as I pressed the words into his skin between barely-there kisses, between tiny hitches in my breath as my other hand reached for him as well, cradling his with a touch far too desperate to be gentle. “I’ll always want you.”

 His thumb traced precious nothings atop my skin, and I shuddered at the way the nerves trilled with glee, static following in his wake in some vain plea to remember that feeling even if only for a heartbeat longer. Still, that tender caress couldn’t keep my own doubts at bay forever, couldn’t silence the reason my mind rebelled relentlessly against this despite how I craved to feign ignorance to the dangers looming so obviously before us.

“But… Cross,” this time, it was my turn to hide, almost shielding myself behind our interwoven hands. “are you really okay with this?” I hadn’t begun to work through my own feelings about… ‘us’ becoming far more complicated, but none of that mattered if any of them held even a glimmer of reservation.

“It wouldn’t be the first time a squad has shared.” That teasing drawl slid back into his seductive rasp, and I couldn’t fight the little thrill it sent dancing about my chest, but I managed to meet his smirk with an unimpressed glare. He let out a slow, almost impatient breath. “I’m sure there’ll be some… adjusting.” He added in a low grumble, and my own doubt resurfaced.

“How do I do this?” I barely breathed it, shoulders hitching about my neck as my heartbeat quickened. “I don’t want you to feel like you aren’t enough…” His own breath caught, and I could see how that fear resonated with him, and the odd calm that followed in merely hearing me say it. He offered no feigned smile, no cocky retort as he leaned forward to rest his brow to mine once more, words a hushed promise against my lips.

“We’ll figure it out.” There was a confidence in that soft murmur that I wanted to doubt; I wanted to scream the simple fact that such a vague reassurance was nowhere near enough to soothe the endless insecurities bubbling up inside me. But I did believe it. I believed him, and the comfort that belief gave me left the air fluttering passed my lips in a shaky breath, terrified of the hope it brought. So, I kissed him. I kissed him because I was afraid, but I trusted him; because I wanted to be ashamed but wasn’t, Because, more than that fear and doubt and shame, I wanted this. I wanted him. And Echo… Hunter… Kriff, how far would this go?

“You might want to start with the arc.” He added, lips just hinting at his usual scowl as he pulled away almost too soon, eyes nearly rolling as he added, “Tech’s going to be pissed if he breaks those new legs from all the pacing he was doing…”

It had been a slow thing; growing some sliver of acceptance between the 99 and what few legions we frequented, an acceptance initially enforced more by their leaders than any sense of brotherhood, though some had finally begun to see passed idiotic excuses to alienate and mock. As Crosshair and I made our way back through the Resolute, however, the berth regs gave us as we passed, the way they avoided nearly the entire quadrant of the hanger housing the Marauder screamed that any such familiarity was forfeit, and my stomach ached at the knowledge that I’d shared more than a small portion of the blame for that.

Some semblance of a desk had been thrown together near the ramp where Tech seemed to be tooling about with cables of something I was almost certain hadn’t come from our ship. Wrecker sat with his back resting against one of crates holding his brother’s make-shift workshop, expression sullen as he spoke in a voice far too quiet to be heard across the half-dozen meters separating us, and I felt a flutter of doubt that nearly left me nauseous. I was walking into this with no idea what to say; what to assume about the near useless hints Hunter had given me; where I might be overthinking things, overstepping, versus what might be seen as playing dumb and avoiding emotions now believed to be obvious.

Crosshair must have noted the tiny hesitation in my stride, gaze shifting toward me, but before he could speak, Hunter stepped out from the cabin doorway, eyes instantly locking on mine with a look of such stunned surprise that it should have left me laughing, and yet I found myself frozen, some voice screaming in the back of my mind that I’d already mistaken everything, and now it was too late to take it back. But then I watched his shoulders fall with a sigh of relief deep enough to catch his brothers’ attention, watched the tentative but earnest beginnings of a smile wash over him, and the way that smile sent my heart jumping nearly blinded me to the equally surprised looks from Wrecker and Tech.

“Told yuh he’d-” Whatever Wrecker was about to say ended in a huffed chuckle as Tech slammed his hip roughly against the larger man’s shoulder. My cheeks burned as I quickly made my way toward the ramp, leaving Crosshair back with the others. Another rush of heat and static danced through my chest as I met Hunter’s gaze, fighting back the flurry of questions, of possibilities and thoughts I’d pushed down for so long now dangling painfully within reach.

“Is Echo…?” I asked quietly, calmly; as though there was some chance he hadn’t noticed the frantic thudding of my pulse.

“Inside.” He nodded toward the cockpit, shifting to take a half-step back so I could pass by him more easily. I started to move, but paused, unsure if there was something more I should say; unsure where to start, but he merely nodded again with a smile far too gentle for the frenzy warring within me. Still, I didn’t waste the excuse to continue forward, unsure if I was rushing toward Echo or running from Hunter, but both granted an almost crippling cocktail of anxiety and confusion and want.

The Marauder was quiet beyond the muffled voices from outside as Hunter joined his brothers. I almost paused, desperate to hear them, to steal what knowledge I could between low chuckles rich with a lightness I hadn’t heard from them in far too long, but I didn’t. It didn’t feel right. And whatever secrets they shared, they owed to me to say to my face. Soon. But Crosshair was right. I couldn’t let Echo continue torturing himself over what happened… nor would I let him find some way to hide from me again.

He wasn’t pacing when I reached the entry into the cockpit. If Hunter hadn’t said otherwise, I might have believed the ship to be empty, but then I started down the ladder, and there was no doubting the source of the impatient, growled sigh that greeted me.

“Haar’chak, Hunter!” I froze at the venom in his voice, one foot still on the ladder for a half-beat before taking that final step, “for the last time, take your damn advice and nar’sh-!”

“Oh?” I refused to acknowledge the reason my heart was pounding, why my eyes were locked so pointedly on the back of the chair where the arc sat almost fully hidden from view, nor the way my body tensed at how quickly he leapt to his feet, those new legs nearly tangling beneath him as he spun around to face me in a flurry of panic I knew too well. “What advice has Hunter been giving you?”

Another day, his reaction may have left me laughing, but not now. Not for this. Not when the dread in his eyes only grew the longer he stared at me, like each beat of silence screamed anew of the terrible distance between us. I hated it; hated that my presence left him so disjointed; that this man who’d been trained to survive the impossible, who’d lived through unspeakable horrors and not only found the strength to keep fighting but did so without losing the warmth in his smile now stared at me like I was something to be feared. I hated that he’d been reduced to this speechless visage of taut muscles and held breath at the mere sight of me when I’d spent months yearning for just a glimpse of the fondness he’d once regarded me with.

My chest hitched slightly, jaw snapping shut as I let my gaze fall lest he see some trace of unshed tears.

“I thought…” I started, but had to pause to swallow back the stiffness in my throat before trying again. “I thought we could try this whole… talking thing again.” Still, I could hear the grief cloying my voice, and it only made it harder to risk looking at him. So I didn’t. Nor did I bother pretending my averted gaze was some subtle mercy to grant him an illusion of privacy. I just couldn’t stand to see him looking at me with that fear, that regret.

He let out a ragged breath, knuckles cracking from how tightly his fingers clenched.

“Look, I didn’t… I – kriff…” He stammered, hand reaching up to drag through his hair, absently working over his temples before letting the limb drop heavily back to his side. “I – I’m sorry, I-”

“Don’t.” I shouldn’t have said it; shouldn’t have risked manipulating his thoughts toward any of this with such a pitiful plea, but I couldn’t take the hurt of hearing him say he hadn’t meant it; that the possibilities I’d only just begun to entertain, to let myself hope for, were gleaned from simple misunderstanding.

“After... after all that… which part are you apologizing for?” There was such a faint hint of accusation in those words, and I couldn’t tell if I wanted to lean harder into a rage that would only leave me cold, or if there was some point in pretending that exasperation was born of anything more than my own self-doubt. I found myself falling somewhere in-between; drowning in anger and sorrow and guilt as months of denial and hiding, of empty pretense and suppressed desires trapped behind good intentions finally lay exposed, raw and real and veiled only in the silence stretching out between halted breaths.

And he said nothing, chest tight though his shoulders seemed to hang listless amidst the weight of an answer he knew he didn’t need to voice, and that was what finally sparked an earnest flare of fury absent any trace of that earlier hesitation. I deserved an answer, dammit…

“You lied to me; stole from me; you lied to your brothers; you put every one of us in danger, and I still almost l-” The word shattered as a sob finally broke through. He wasn’t looking at me anymore, head bowed as he merely listened, as he let himself bear the brunt of my rage even as it tore at my heart with the same merciless hurt as it did his.

“I almost had to take more of your legs, Echo.” I barely whispered it, knowing the horror those words brought me, however crippling it might be, was nothing compared to how they’d haunt him, how his body nearly flinched from muscles locking taut, brows pinching above eyes that still refused to meet mine. “I should have… It was… it was a stupid risk not to, and I should never have been put in that position.” I tried to cling to that anger… tried to blame him, but I could see the heaviness of it all threatening to crush him; the guilt, the fear… the realization of just how close he’d come to losing even more of himself… and I felt how near I was to that same flurry of emotion, because logic would never be enough to free me of the blame curling around my heart, reminding me that he’d only isolated himself like that because of me, because of the choices that I’d made and the distance they created between us, a distance I’d done nothing to heal.

But now, through accident and impulse, we stood atop a cliff-face, toeing the edge, begging the other to be the first to jump, and I couldn’t deny the way my heart ached beneath the fear that, after everything that had finally brought us to this moment, he might yet refuse me.

“Why did you kiss me, Echo?” It sounded broken, torn between denial and mourning as my gaze fell, awaited the fall of the executioner’s axe. I didn’t see the stillness settle over him, the hesitation before he drew a carefully slowed, silent breath.

“You know why.” It wanted to be a growl, but he kept his voice almost painfully flat, even; and I wanted to scream.

“Clearly, I don’t!” The words were harsh, shattered beneath a grief too raw to keep locked away any longer, tears finally trailing down my face as my eyes snapped up to find him standing so impossibly still before me, the co-pilot’s seat unapologetic as it loomed between us. But I saw the tension yet held in his stance, the subtle downward tug of lips and brow as though bracing for some punishment I was suddenly afraid might retch from me amidst too many emotions and sleepless nights and unanswered questions.

“I came here… I… dammit, I don’t know what I was expecting!” I sobbed, “But it sure as hell wasn’t to see you look at me like…” I couldn’t say it, couldn’t admit how his earlier fear had wounded me, how it seemed like he’d already accepted that he’d never see me again, my arms locking around my chest as though it might ease the agony tearing through me. “Why… Why did you kiss me?” But then he answered me. And I froze.

“Because I wanted to.” He replied, and there was a shift in his stance; so subtle, I nearly missed it. But his shoulders seemed broader; his eyes darker, and I felt my heart jump at the sight of it. “Because I’ve wanted to since that skanah mercenary laid his damn hands on you and you still trusted me enough to let me help.” Now, he was growling. “Since I first heard you laugh at those stories about Fives.” Walking forward with such perfectly even strides; slow, not to give me time to run, but to savor the sight of my breath quickening, deepening with every step. “Since that day I woke up with you in my arms like you’d always belonged there.” Until mere inches separated us as he towered over me. “I’ve wanted to for so long… and I thought I’d never get another chance. That's why I kissed you.”

I should have been afraid. I should have remembered how easily he’d overpowered me in the midst of his illness; how he’d hurt me. But I looked up at those pale-gold eyes, at pupils blown wide with hunger, at skin now boasting a warm hue rather than the unnatural paleness of when I’d met him, at hair delightfully messy, the sides overgrown just enough to curl and ruin the normally neat fohawk; at lips parted ever so slightly, teasing the memory of his taste.

“Why didn't you kiss me sooner?” I could feel the heat of his breath as he stood before me, body curling subtly around mine.

“A lot of reasons. None of them good.” He murmured, eyes flicking to my lips though he held himself so carefully still.

“Why aren't you kissing me now?” I asked, voice a barely-there whisper and invitation and plea, but he didn't rush forward like I thought he would, like I hoped he would, instead weighing my question carefully before answering.

“Because, if I kiss you again, I'm not going to stop.” It was a threat as much as it was a promise, footsteps silent as he inched closer still, just enough to make the rear wall of the cockpit press against my back.

“Good.” I was moving before the absently mumbled word fully escaped me, hands locking around his jaw, fingers tangling into the satin curls just escaping the lower edge of his cybernetic, practicality and boundaries and logic forgotten as he met me with the same fire. No. Not forgotten. Ignored. Intentional and willful and eagerly ignored as his arm locked around my lower back, gripping my hip with a possessiveness that left me gasping as he shamelessly pressed himself against me, breastplate nearly bruising my chest, scomp sliding around my waist, caging me.

To call it a kiss was far too tame. He devoured me, lips and jaw and body all moving in a hypnotic rhythm, as his hand abandoned my hip to drag up my spine, touch firm, unrepentant of how my shirt caught on fingertips digging in to my back, my shoulders, practically wrenching me away from the wall solely so he could pull me closer.

I’d tried not to wonder, not to imagine and dream… but when idle thoughts turned to fantasies I’d pretended not to have, I’d presumed Echo to be… gentle… soft. I’d envisioned hesitant touches and frequent glances seeking reassurance. But reality burned far hotter. He didn’t hesitate because the moan that caught in my throat screamed my consent louder than any murmured permissions, because there was no misunderstanding why my body arched so willingly into his, and whatever timidness might have subdued his hunger was forfeit after so many months of stifled want.

My breath caught as his hand darted down to my thigh, his body bucking just enough to hoist me up so my legs might lock about his hips, and whatever objection I had was briefly lost in the rush of heat burning through those eyes as he looked at me with something far deeper than the lust I’d expected in that moment. Devotion. Adoration. An awe that left my cheeks burning and heart racing even more frantically. My arms looped around his shoulders with reverence of my own, the weight of shared breath hot and intoxicating between us as I held myself back a moment to savor this, smile just toying with my lips as he stretched forward to taste me again, though this time with some hint of a softness that sent a shiver dancing across my skin.

“Stay.” He whispered the word against me, like he was begging for his life rather than what few weeks I might have been gone.

“Everything’s going to get complicated…” I warned, though even I could hear how little resolve lingered in the words.

“I don’t care.” He panted, reaching up to kiss me once more, and, without bothering to pull back, repeated that little plea. “Stay.” I had to fight myself to pull back, lips still parted in an invitation I had only belatedly managed to stifle between ground teeth.

“No more hiding.” It wasn’t an order, but it was far from a request as I held his gaze, arms shifting to wrap almost covetously around his head that my fingers might toy with those soft, ebony curls. He didn’t respond immediately, and I loved him for it; for the show that he was really hearing me, thinking over my demand before answering with a slow nod, and I thanked him with another kiss, forehead resting lightly against his as I tried to gather my thoughts enough to voice them.

“And this… me and… and the others…” I still tripped over the words, still struggled with the very concept of it, though he didn’t so much as flinch, “Promise me you’ll tell me if… if something’s wrong… Talk to me instead of...”

“Instead of fighting it out with Crosshair?” He offered, and I could hear that little smirk, could feel the tiny huff of laughter, but his smile only grew as I shot him a glare.

“I promise.” He agreed in such a soft murmur, I couldn’t help but melt against him, body curling around his before kissing him once more, and I relished the way he relaxed beneath my touch, that hunger quieted that we might simply enjoy this moment for what it was: permission to feel without shame, to want without guilt, and to hold without doubt, because there wasn’t room for such things amidst the relief and joy in how his lips danced against mine, the warmth of his arms around me and mine around him, the comfort I’d feared forever lost to us settling gently about the silence that no longer felt heavy or strained.

“And Echo?” I whispered his name against his lips almost reluctantly, allowing myself just one more second of that kiss as he hummed back. “If you tore open those ulcers again, I’m going to break my vow to do no harm.” His laughter was almost worth all the stress that had brought us here.

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