Bonus Content - Alekto & Pyri

Hello, everyone!

This month's bonus content is the second to last in the current series, wherein one RO (the one whose route the PC is on) is seen from the perspective of another. In this case, we have Alekto, as seen by Pyri.

The series will conclude next month, with Pyri as seen by Hermes.

I hope you enjoy them both, but for now, the first.

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“You’ve been using brighter colors lately.” Pyri, leaning a little aside from their own easel, looks at Alekto’s work in progress with interest.

She likes painting landscapes; that’s always been true. But this one, the first in a while since they’ve been working on other projects, features several distinct ones that Pyri’s pretty sure their friend wouldn’t ordinarily use. Not bright, exactly. Just brighter.

Alekto glances down at them, her face placid. “The Underworld has been getting brighter,” she replies with nonchalance. “I am trying to reflect the reality.”

Pyri supposes that’s true. The colors have changed, at least somewhat, and the light level is a little brighter. They don’t completely understand how that works, or why, but supposedly it has something to do with the state of mind and power of the people within it. Boss had said it would always be the Underworld, so they’re not expecting buttercup-yellow or anything, but maybe they can take the healthy greener hue to be a positive sign.

“It’s probably Dionysus, right?” they ask, shifting their attention from the landscape to more fully encapsulate their friend’s face. “The reason for the change, I mean. It’s basically been the same as long as I’ve been here, and it didn’t change until after he came, so…”

The guess is left to trail off; Alekto’s lips press together a little bit, and she nods. It’s not the most comfortable-looking nod, but Pyri’s no good at figuring out why things like that might be the case, so they ask.

“That’s… a good thing, right?”

Alekto’s brows lift before settling back in their place, and she clears her throat. “Yes. Of course. The colors are but a sign of a larger trend of increased vitality. That, obviously, can only be a good thing.”

“Can it? Because you sound a little weird about it.” Pyri, still holding their own brush, dips it in the water and wrings it out for now, pinching it back into shape the way she’s taught them and setting it handle-down to dry in a clay cup. There’s residual paint on their fingers, but they get most of it off on their apron and don’t care about the rest.

“I’m not sure where you’re getting that impression from,” Alekto replies, looking back at her canvas as though it might have the answer. “I am no ‘weirder’ about this than I am about anything else.”

“Yeah, but no, that’s really not true. You’re much weirder about stuff that has to do with Dionysus. I can tell.” Perhaps because they pay uncommon attention to people’s facial expressions, trying to figure out what things mean. They’re seldom too successful with the ones that aren’t obvious—which is a lot of them, considering the number of reasonably-stoic people they spend time with. Leks, the Boss, Charon… even Hekate, when she wants to be. But still. Trying means they can at least pick up on when things are different from usual, even if the meaning of the difference is often inscrutable.

So they know. They know she’s weird about Dionysus. They just don’t know why.

“That is… regrettable.” Leks only seems to stare harder at her landscape—a portrait of a solitary tree on a riverbank, its branches dipping low towards the water. Pyri knows the one, but they could swear she always manages to make the mundane look like something more than it is. Or at least, something more than they can see, just looking at the real thing.

“Well, I guess so, yeah. If it’s bad-weird. Dionysus is a great guy. You don’t… still think he’s like… a spy, or whatever that was, do you?”

“No.” The answer is immediate and sincere. “I don’t think that. And the… ‘weirdness’ isn’t—” Alekto clicks her tongue against her teeth. “It isn’t a bad thing, necessarily. It is, however, regrettable that it is noticeable.”

Pyri’s brows furrow. “Oh. I don’t think I understand. Why would it be bad if people noticed if it isn’t a bad feeling?”

She sighs, tearing her eyes away from the painting to settle them on Pyri’s face. “Not everyone has your infinite tolerance for the awkward, Pyri. Some people would find such feelings as mine a burden, or at the very least somewhat uncomfortable to deal with. I would prefer he not need to do that.”

Pyri, warmed by the compliment, takes a moment to process the rest of what she’d said. “Well… do you know he’ll feel like that, if he learns abut whatever it is?”

“Not necessarily, but it is hard to imagine anyone feeling otherwise.” A small pause, and Leks’s eyes narrow a little. “Before you advise that I ask, I should say that doing so in a form that would be understandable would immediately give things away, and have the exact result I am trying to avoid, should his answer be yes.”

“Oh.” Their brows knit, and they hum softly. “Well… for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s that noticeable. I know something is going on, but I don’t know what, and I think I’m probably… I think I probably pay too much attention to this stuff, so I don’t know that anyone else would have noticed.”

Alekto huffs a soft breath out through her nose. “Regrettably, I’m sure at least some have. But thank you anyway.”

“...Sure?” They aren’t certain what that thanks is really for, but if she’s saying it she means it, so…

“You’re welcome.”