"I never once thought," he began, swift and defensive, but stopped himself. He shook his head slowly and sighed, the scepter reappearing in his hands so he had something to fiddle with and focus on besides her face. It grated to feel so afraid of her gaze, but he was diminished, more than he had ever thought possible. Hardly in danger of fading; with modern culture's fascination of the old world he was far from that fate. He knew of some lesser beings who clung to academics and historians, the handful who still knew and appreciated what they had done in ages past. That notion terrified him more than anything.<br/><br/>"For a while," he began again, more measured and slow in tone, "I did blame you. Wrongly so. I sat on my throne alone for thirty years and thought grim thoughts of conspiracy, that somehow you and Athena had foreseen our decline and plotted to shed Olympus of its glory. I was a fool... which seems to be among my bailiwick, all considered." He risked a glance at her, quick and furtive before he returned his eyes to his cane.<br/><br/>Poseidon's words echoed in his mind as he thought back to the day his brother had left. "Considering what he said, I'm not so sure it was uncalled for. Wasn't I a monster in my own right? Why else would I have driven you to leave without so much as a word of farewell? No - make no mistake, Hera, Poseidon had the right of it, even if the words did cut deep at the time." He glanced up again and saw her inspecting her lotus staff, the weapon as sturdy as it had ever been. He could sense the power within it, dormant but present, perhaps out of her reach but not gone forever. His finger tapped at the chromed switchback on his sceptre, and his mind turned to the thunderbolts he had once thrown with such deadly power.<br/><br/>Those were gone, too, by now. The mortals now did not view him as some figure of immense power, worthy of respect and admiration. His conquests on the battlefield were so often ignored to highlight his many sexual forays, and as more people came to regard him as merely lustful rather than the king he had been the bolts had simply vanished. Other effects had come about from their perception, however. Ones he didn't feel altogether comfortable contemplating, even now. Lost in his own memories as he was, when she turned to face him he looked her right in the eye, and saw the mask she tried to hard to keep in place crumble. He smiled despite himself, but had the grace not to tease her for it.<br/><br/>"She's got her own library. Not very far from here, as it happens, or not relatively far." He paused and looked back to the scepter. "I know you have no great love for her, but she never does anything without definite cause and direction. As it were in this case, she didn't seem to think it mattered if I understood why she directed me to you. She inferred that if I didn't at least try to approach you the others would never agree to even meet me, let alone hear me out."<br/><br/>He stood abruptly and used his scepter to gesture at the designs spread across her desk. "Enough, though--tell me of this business of yours.<i>Teléia... </i>was that the idea of one of our devilishly clever daughters, or did you decide on your own that it fit best? How, er... how<i>is</i>business? Good, I would imagine, considering the number of mortals I sense." He paused, his head turning slightly. "No... not mortals. Immortals. Have you been granting eternity to your staff...?"