Persephone reaches out in delight, trying to touch the butterfly with the very tips of her fingertips, as if it might vanish. How strange that she, of the very world the butterflies fly through, the brilliance of spring and beginnings, should have the same sacred creature as him, of the depth and the end of all things.

"We have the same creature in common!" She holds her hand up to entice it to land, eyes bright despite her exhaustion. It's so pretty and--and familiar. It takes a moment and then, "That explains the brooch I saw Zagreus wearing."