Sacrifice. It was a dirty thing Hades never approved of even in the days before Effie lit his life with the light of mercy. It, like slavery, was a barbaric practice he didn't understand. Willing was, perhaps, less tasteless but it all left a foul taste in his mouth; only his duty of staying out of mortal affairs kept him cool, helped along by the disconnect with his power. Had he the temptation of choking shadows at his will, choping the snake off at its head mightve been far more tempting. Playing the game of mortals was interesting, some might even say fun, but there was little room in Pluto's new gloomy life for such frivolity. He was just.... along for the ride.
Thankfully, Vitus was leaving too. Anyway, as he understood it, but it gave the god an out he sorely needed. Jakten... would not be on his list of places to return to willingly, except, perhaps, if Ivandri needed him. Checking in on her if he was ever in the area was the least he could do for the poor broken girl. He would play by the rules of the mortals, but if she didn't wish to break free of her chains he couldn't just set her loose anyway.
He was not the chivalrous hero who would go rushing in to save the damsel anyway. He was merely a helpful soul in the right place at the right time who may perhaps have been itching for a good fight.

It felt good to have land moving beneath his feet again. He'd never traveled for any long period of time and while his time here in Mythris was hardly lengthy in the eyes of Hades, God of the dead, it was still more consecutive than ever before.

He simply drew a deep breath and glided along between the trees slowly, leisurely, unbothered. Ember was nowhere to be found, no doubt out hunting or some other... owl thing, Hades never asked.

Learning to be mortal had been… amusing, as much as it was infuriating. The breathing thing had finally lost its novelty, leaving behind a strange, persistent ache in her chest. Eating and drinking were an entirely different beast. And why, exactly, were mortals so fragile?

Melinoë had spilled blood a time or two during her wanderings, always a fascinating experience. She would pause, studying with quiet wonder the crimson slick that trickled from scratch or abrasion alike. She would never admit it to anyone, but she had face-planted into several trees when she forgot she had a corporeal form now. How much simpler life had been when she could traverse the world as she pleased.

But alas, reminiscing was a waste of energy. She was the Ghost Queen. She would adapt and thrive, as she always had.

Tonight she had settled herself across a sturdy branch, tucked comfortably in the crook of the tree. Being able to look down at whatever shifted below brought her an odd sort of comfort. Her tail swayed lazily as her saffron gaze drifted from flora to fauna and back again. Her interactions with mortals in this shape had been limited, and she had decided to simply exist, peacefully observing.

Movement flickered at the edge of her vision. She turned, focusing on the figure emerging from the shadows. His coat shimmered with the colors of the night sky, uncannily similar to her own in a way, and his eyes, the color of dark ichor, seemed wholly uninterested in the world around him.

Her head tilted as she watched him in silence, curiosity stirring.

For now, she decided, she would simply observe.