❝ when the stars fall from the sky, you and i will dance in the fire they leave ❞
Hermes knew one thing to be true in this universe; the Fates had blessed him greatly and he would not waste this opportunity. Not least when the elusive Guardian of D...
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𝕺nce upon a time, many eons ago...
That was how most great stories were told by the muses on Mount. Olympus. Despite never having been there herself, Delia knew of the ways that the stories began. They would try to set the scene, drawing listeners and watchers in to see what would happen next.
But, Delia did not care for stories. She did not care for cliff-hangers, or gossip, or mysteries or romances. She cared for warm summer evenings beneath the stars, good food, laughter echoing through her home and the warmth of the sun kissing her skin.
For near to as long as she could remember, Delia had the same routine. Warm sea breeze would wake her from her sleep as the sun peaked over the horizon of Delos. It would illuminate and heat the marble stone of her room, burning the cool night off.
Delia enjoyed this part of her day. She liked being able to wake up slowly with the sun, stretching out her limbs as the day dawned around her. It was peaceful, and calm. Just the way she liked it.
It would then be a case of un-braiding her hair from the night before, and pulling the curls back into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, to protect it from the soil and river water. Her closet of dresses was flung open, and Delia often chose the coloured cotton, picking broches from her dressing table so that she could create her peplos in a matter of minutes. It had become second nature after doing it for so long.
Her next stop would be the fruit groves to pick her breakfast, dodging dryads and satyrs to pick the ripest peaches and apples from the tops of the trees. The others didn't take those ones, knowing that they were for her, so Delia was always content to sit in the boughs and chew on the fruit.
That was how most of her days were spent. She would wake and carry out her daily chores, which revolved around protecting those that lived on her island; the dryads, the satyrs, the naiads, the centaurs that lived on the North end and the Hippocampi in the sea to the south. She protected them all, in every way that she could, and they lived peacefully together, out of the way of the other gods.
It wasn't that she hated the other gods, or that she had been banished, quite the opposite. Delia had been invited multiple times to Olympus, but she had declined each and every offer, cutting herself off from all but Poseidon. She just was not that sociable.
She liked being alone. She liked her privacy and most of all, Delia liked her space.
"My Lady, Lord Triton is here to speak with you," Delia looked down the trunk of the tree she was perched in, catching sight of a satyr far below her. He was the eldest of the tribe on her island, known as Clem, and one of her closest friends. "He's waiting on the Eastern shores."
