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Hestia walked slow beside him, her steps quiet through the leaves. The air had that kind of stillness that only comes when the woods are half asleep, the sound of their paws crunching over old leaves, the faint gurgle of water somewhere up ahead. She smiled a little at his comment, the corner of her mouth quirking up like she’d heard that kind of thing before.

Yeah, she said softly, eyes flicking toward the treeline. It’s beautiful, but… it can get lonely too. The kind of quiet that makes your own thoughts loud. She let out a small laugh, almost under her breath. You get used to it after a while.

When he asked if she’d lived here long, she took her time answering. There wasn’t really a right way to explain it, not without sounding like she’d lost her mind or been around longer than she should’ve been. The truth felt too big for a question like that anyways for how long does a fallen god measure time? A while, she said finally, voice warm but vague. Long enough to know the rivers used to run a little different.

Her eyes caught the fading light when she looked back at him, the faintest hint of amusement there. He reminds me of the mortals I used to love, she thought quietly, with that strange ache she’d never quite gotten rid of. Always wandering, always searching for something they can’t name. You sound like someone still figuring out where his feet fit in this world. How long have you been here?

She turned her head back toward the sound of the stream, her voice a little quieter now. World’s big, you know? No one really knows what to do with it at first.

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