Chapter Text
Hermes flinched—I didn’t know he could shout like that…
Tiresias’s back was turned, fists clenched at his sides. “I asked for the truth, Hermes, please, can’t you just tell me what happened to my girls?!”
Hermes sobered—he knew the truth of Tiresias’s daughters’ fate would weigh on the prophet for the rest of his afterlife, and yet, he didn’t want to lie to his best friend. “Darling, please, I-I just—“
”No, I’ve heard enough, Lord Hermes.”
In his palace upon Olympus, Hermes sat in his large, fluffy bed, wings fluttering like excited birds against the white comforter, shimmering a slight gold in the morning light. I wonder if Tire’s awake…
He sighed, sitting up. After months of continuous movement, he finally got a moment to himself—only to not be able to spend it with anyone. Apollo was no doubt busy driving his sun chariot and leading Helios, Dionysus was probably hosting another party for his cult, Athena had earlier left to train with young Telemachus and hadn’t returned yet, and Tiresias was… well, Hermes wasn’t sure if he deserved to know. The one time he had a break, and he couldn’t visit anyone he wanted to.
Hermes sighed again, tired and slightly dejected as he flipped back onto his bed. Being a deity, he could just barge into Tiresias’s house and force the prophet to entertain him…
No. Hermes utterly refused to go along that line of thinking. He wouldn’t see Tiresias that way no matter what! What the hell was he even thinking?! Barging into his best friend’s house?? Ugh, boredom was getting the better of the God of Travelers.
The wind chimes outside his room rang pleasantly, like tinkling crystals, a small gift he had wanted to give Tiresias, but now felt too guilty to do so, hence why they were hanging from the door to his balcony. They sang a familiar tune, a small melody the prophet had sung to him long ago in that deep voice of his. Sitting up in his bed with a groan, Hermes sobered at the sight.
“Oh TiTi…”, he whispered, a breath above the wind. Wait, the wind…
”Hmm, it’s not like you to drown in self-pity, old friend!”
If you asked Hermes, he’d deny screaming. If you asked him, he very gracefully sat up and rolled off the bed, sitting back down on the other side. No, no, he didn’t give a VERY undignified squeak, fall off the bed, then crawl and fumble his way back onto it, no way!
”Aeolus, goodness darling, what is it?”, Hermes sighed, breathless.
Aeolus, for it was the god of wind, only giggled and floated next to Hermes on the bed. “You seem tired, Herms.”
And of course, as perceptive as ever, Aeolus noticed a small scroll on Hermes’s bedside table, sealed with soft, sage green wax. “Oooooooo, snatch!”
”Wait, wait, wait, Aeolus-!”
Hermes burned a soft red, flushing as he reached up to grab the scroll. It was… personal… to say the least.
Aeolus softened, holding it with gentle hands as their grip on the letter loosened, voice kinder. “You may be the god of messages, but if you’d like me to send word to someone, you know, you can trust me.”
Snatching the scroll back, Hermes paused—yes, actually, there was. Voice soft as a breath, Hermes muttered, “Tell Circe I’ll be at her place in a few minutes, please?”
Aeolus chuckled, softening as they gave a wave and disappeared into the distance.
Finally, Hermes slid off his bed, snapping his fingers as his lazy gown for resting turned to his typical chiton, pure white with a gold sheen. As he flew through the door in a hurry, he pinned his cape/scarf and zipped out onto Olympus, zooming below to Circe’s palace.
The mortal world below blew by in a blur of color and light, the soft peaks of mountains and the sparkling surfaces of lakes below him, dotted with houses, cities, palaces, and more. He lowered himself, flying through trees and winding his way through deserted woodland roads as he zipped and soared through the air. With each moment he flew, he grew faster and faster, until the glimmering horizon of sparkling blues, on and on that seemed to stretch for forever greeted him. His wings fluttering rapidly through the air, Hermes swooped down and his hand glided along the surface of the water, echoing ripples on the smooth, clear surface.
Hermes laughed, breathless and wild, as he grinned brightly. He hadn’t flown this far or free in a while; not a single scroll except for his single, wax sealed scroll sat in his bag as he gave a yelp, unbridled as he splashed up water behind him. On the very edge of the horizon, like a smudge of paint against the edge of the sea, sat an island, cool, forest greens as the scent of pork grew stronger. It seemed that Circe was up to her usual pig-related activities.
Hermes giggled, giving a spin as he landed gracefully on Circe’s doorstep, on foot down then the other. Before he could say a word though, the door barged open, revealing a Circe with eyes glowing pure white, covered in gold, glowing patterns, and holding a cauldron filled with something bluish-purple and shimmering. Her patterns dimmed, eyes returning to normal as she sighed wearily.
”For the love of… get off my island Hermes, I don’t care if you were sent by Aeolus or vice versa!”
Hermes chuckled, something weak and oddly… fake, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Yes, yes, I’m aware that you’re not quite… fond of me.”
The witch, though, only put her hands onto her hips and raised an eyebrow, looking over the god before her up and down. The whole time, Hermes squirmed, fidgeting uncomfortably with his hands. At last, Circe finally sighed and crossed her arms. “I never said I don’t like you, Hermes. Come inside; I can tell that something’s wrong.”
Hermes paused in surprise.
Oh.
He flushed, head wings covering his face. He didn’t think he was that obvious, but it seems that his old friend knew far more about him than he thought she did. “I-er…”
Circe sighed, gently patting Hermes’s shoulder and guiding him in, scolding, “Come on, get, get!”
After a few more aggressive pats, Hermes finally stepped in, flopping onto Circe’s couch, sinking into the cushions as he dimmed, wings drooping. Circe gently sat next to him, softening at his state.
”Something happened with Tiresias?”, she asked, voice low and soft. Hermes trembled slightly, nodding as his wings droop over his face.
”I messed up, Circe. I-I…”
Hermes didn’t need to say anymore as Circe gently took his hand and allowed the god to lean on her, trembling.
“I failed him, Circe, but you know I couldn’t possibly tell him…” he mumbled, muffled by his head wings which covered his face.
Circe sighed, soft and gentle as she rubbed his back. An Olympian god is crying on her couch. Another Tuesday, am I right? She sighed, gentle and soft as she soothed, “He still loves you, you know? He’s upset, but still loves you.”
The quiet, mournful fluttering of Hermes’s wings stopped, replaced by a hitched breath and eyes widening.
Hermes immediately slapped himself-what inappropriate line of thinking for a god!
Circe chuckled warmly, eyes softening. Despite the man before her being a god, he seemed almost childish at times. “Yes, that way, Hermes.”
Hermes flushed, his eyes softening impossibly. Circe, as well, smiled warmly, grabbing at the scroll in his bag.
“Now, what’s this curious little thing?” she asked giving him a playful nudge.
Hermes gives a small smile, his head wings giving a flutter as they reveal his blushing face. “J-just a thing for Tiresias. I’m—well was—going to give him this.”
Circe softened, taking the scroll in her own hands, giving an appreciative hum. With a soft chuckle, she studied the note with gentle eyes. How domestic for a god.
Hermes sighed, deflating once more though as he leans back against the couch. “Not only will I never give this… I suppose I’ll just have to never talk to him again…”
Whack!
“ACK-Circe what in the?!-“
Whack!
“I’ve never seen a god as hopelessly idiotic as you, Hermes.”
The witch raised a dubious eyebrow(how dare she after backhanding a god TWICE!!), and sighed at him. “Hopeless. Hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. Hermes, tell him the truth. Talk to him. APOLOGIZE. My heart aches for you, obviously, but you know who it aches for more?”
Hermes froze, eyes wide, before he slowly shook his head again… and barely dodged another backhand.
“TIRESIAS! Do you think he has anyone BUT you?! Hermes, you’re so dear to him, so, so dear to him! He was hurt that you wouldn’t tell him because he believes that you didn’t care enough to tell him!”
Hermes paused, eyes softening as he stared down into his lap. Dear to Tiresias? Him?
Circe sighed, watching him with an utterly incredulous look. “Yes, you are dear to him.”
And it was all he needed for the god to hug Circe, dash out the door, and zoom off with a burst of light.