It never gets easier, hearing others espouse her importance, her abilities. Persephone is no Aphrodite, to bask in the worship and importance granted by the people around her. But it feels nice, a little, to know others see her this way. Even if it doesn't really touch at why she feels so unimportant, why she wants to be more, it's kind and thoughtful and sweet.
"The Olympians were never going to step in for some mortals killing some flower nymphs." Persephone says, a hint of bitterness to her words before she catches herself, "And I ended up killing more mortals than I intended, innocent, when my powers flew out of control. I wouldn't be quite so torn up about it if it was just three mortals who--who killed my friends. Upset, angry with myself but--less guilt. I think. I don't know, I can't really know how I would feel. I freaked out in the moment, lost control. So I'll never know."
As he keeps speaking, she remembers that fury, that fire in his eyes at her. The anger that she thinks about sometimes, when her own bubbles up. Some proof in her heart that this man is a child of her own, in some other realm. More like her than she admits. Rage bubbling up for those they care about, those they love, like fire in their veins. And Ares--gods, she hasn't thought about him in so long.
"Oh, Ares loved my wrath, I think. Not that he knew about what I did in the mortal realm but--unsurprisingly, other people inspired wrath. War." She doesn't specify but she's not sure she needs to. He knows more than she wanted him to, but it does mean not having to repeat herself, "He--He can inspire wrath and anger in my world as well."
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"The Olympians were never going to step in for some mortals killing some flower nymphs." Persephone says, a hint of bitterness to her words before she catches herself, "And I ended up killing more mortals than I intended, innocent, when my powers flew out of control. I wouldn't be quite so torn up about it if it was just three mortals who--who killed my friends. Upset, angry with myself but--less guilt. I think. I don't know, I can't really know how I would feel. I freaked out in the moment, lost control. So I'll never know."
As he keeps speaking, she remembers that fury, that fire in his eyes at her. The anger that she thinks about sometimes, when her own bubbles up. Some proof in her heart that this man is a child of her own, in some other realm. More like her than she admits. Rage bubbling up for those they care about, those they love, like fire in their veins. And Ares--gods, she hasn't thought about him in so long.
"Oh, Ares loved my wrath, I think. Not that he knew about what I did in the mortal realm but--unsurprisingly, other people inspired wrath. War." She doesn't specify but she's not sure she needs to. He knows more than she wanted him to, but it does mean not having to repeat herself, "He--He can inspire wrath and anger in my world as well."