Chapter Text
When you keep mementos from every experience you’ve ever had, you’re called a hoarder. A harsh, misused term that was so overused that it undermined the real psychological issue associated with keeping too many objects. Athena didn’t like that word being associated with her, because it was wrong. She was not a hoarder.
She was just sentimental.
Apollo whined and moaned about her need for keepsakes and mementos, but it wasn’t a bad thing. That’s another thing about the word ‘hoarder’. It has negative connotations and while those connotations can be helpful in certain circumstances where the term is actually applicable, the term was not applicable here. Thus, it wasn’t helpful whatsoever.
So, again, she was not a hoarder. Athena Cykes was just sentimental.
This was demonstrated by the (Apollo would add ‘disgustingly’ here) large scrapbook that Athena kept on her bookshelf. How the bindings hadn’t been broken by now was a mystery that her friends (and honestly, she herself) had yet to solve. Trucy thought it was magic, Simon and Apollo thought it was custom-made, Juniper thought it was just special. And Athena didn’t bother guessing at all, because what was important wasn’t the outside.
Estimated at about 5,080 pages, the scrapbook could’ve clocked in at one of the longest pieces of non-fiction of all time…if it wasn’t a scrapbook and was, instead, a regular book. But it was a scrapbook, so the page number only mattered when in response to the question, ‘Damn. How big is that thing?’
But ignore all of this information that I’ve given you. Ignore the bindings mystery, ignore page count, ignore Apollo Justice misusing terms that Athena firmly believed should be taken seriously. Focus on what’s inside.
That’s what Athena was doing, as she quietly thumbed through the pages, book in her lap as she sat cross-legged on the floor.
She was focusing on what was inside: Over two decades worth of experiences, each given their own special page, decorated with stickers and washi tape and when appropriate, glitter.
But these pages weren’t in chronological order, no, that would be silly. They were put together by person. For example: Friday-night sleepovers were documented in the ‘Apollo’ section, because those experiences included him and only him. But the ‘Apollo’ section wasn’t the section that Athena was looking for when she grabbed the book, her fingers currently hovering over the cover page.
That section belonged to Juniper.
Wide smile on her face, Athena greedily began flipping through.