Bonus Content - Charon POV

Hey all! This month's RO POV features Charon in the aftermath of Dionysus's disappearance back to Olympus, with some Hades and a little bit of Lethe, but mostly just a lot of wallowing.

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When Charon is stressed, they exert themself physically.

This is certainly a holdover from much earlier days, when true serenity was impossible, and the best he could hope for was to sublimate less desirable expressions of frustration and emotion into something that would at least give him a moment’s peace. To change the form of those feelings, into something he could push out of his body, like one might, in some sense, work out an ache or stiffness or something similarly physical.

It’s never been all that effective, in truth, but when nothing else will help, it can at least provide some sense of… relief? Of working towards something? They’ve never quite figured out how to describe it.

Much to their chagrin, violence is best, whether contained to a spar or expressed as something a little more freewheeling, like the creation of a wild storm. They’ve restricted themself to the former for many eons now, and today they restrict themself even further, because the people he might fight to process his feelings are considerably busy. He should be, too, if he can get his head back ‘on straight,’ as Pyri might say.

So for the moment, they swim.

The Rivers, which hold a great deal of fear for the dead and humans and demigods and minor deities alike, are no danger to the Ferryman, and today he trawls the waters of the Lethe, hoping for just a little bit of the Oblivion she is meant to grant others.

Of course, Lethe herself sits not far away on the shore, tolerating their intrusion into her domain but not granting him what he seeks, for whatever her reasons might be. She sits on the ground, molding a small piece of clay into who knows what, neither interrupting nor hindering him, but, he suspects, keeping a watchful eye out, nevertheless.

She would do something like that of her own accord, but today Charon knows she has likely been asked.

The water rushes over their skin, dragging at their hair, but they resist the temptation to give themself more speed by changing form. The emotions will only become more acute if they do; existing in this version of their body dulls everything a little: senses, emotions, powers. It’s a good thing, one Charon on most occasions wholeheartedly embraces. Not something he should sacrifice now for a little more smoothness in the water.

Flipping directions, they start back the way they came, sensing Hades’s presence moving towards Lethe’s and suspecting that he might want to talk to them. Honestly, they both welcome and dread the idea. Welcome it because they know it will end with them feeling better about the whole thing, or at least having a more productive direction to turn their restlessness.

Dread because Hades, for all his mercy, sees through every mask Charon puts up, without fail.

Something that probably happens, when you have plenty of experience seeing someone at their worst and most raw, and helping them find something to stand on again.

He shakes the thought from his head, breaking the surface of the water nearby the two and exiting the river by climbing the bank. Charon waves a hand, pulling the drops of water left on his skin and in his hair away from himself and depositing them back in the river. Hades, obliging as ever, hands him the tunic hanging over one of Lethe’s outdoor chairs, and Charon arranges it around himself, turning to face the two with a sigh.

“How goes the search?”

Hades frowns slightly. “As expected, it seems Dionysus was removed from the Underworld by outside parties. The cloaking magic is quite impressive; not even Alekto can track them, beyond to say that they made exit through the nearest entrance and then were pulled away by magic, most likely to Olympus. We don’t know who the other parties were, yet, but she’s determined to find out.”

“Then she will,” Charon says simply, and Hades nods.

“I believe so. Of course, the larger issue is who was really responsible, and there seems to be little question of that.”

Of course there isn’t. Who else would it be but Demeter, desperate to see her son again? Charon understands that. Doesn’t hold it against her. No one does, really, because they all know that Dionysus wants to see her again, too. But Charon knows he wouldn’t have wanted to leave the Underworld like this, without so much as a goodbye to anyone.

Maybe they hold that part against her a little, but no one here is going to make the mistake Zeus obviously intends by thinking that their real opponent in this matter is anyone but him.

“Then what do we do? Any action at all is likely to be walking right into whatever trap he thinks he’s setting.” Charon isn’t oblivious to this sort of strategic maneuvering, but he’s never been especially good at it, a fact that has landed him in hot water more than once. For Dionysus’s sake, he doesn’t want to fall right back into that same kind of naive habit. Fortunately, this time they have friends.

“Yes,” Hades agrees with a dip of his chin. “There is little choice but to spring it knowingly. And try to prepare enough that it backfires, so to speak. Hekate has begun to pull the relevant legal texts from the shelves; the plan is to go through everything and arm ourselves as well as possible.” He pauses, red eyes narrowing slightly in that mix of concern and heatless suspicion that means he’s seeing through them again.

“But enough about that for now. How are you holding up?” He’s always so straightforward about it, too. It’s charming, in a way, and Charon honestly doesn’t understand how they managed to spend their first years here being so wary of this god. Death or not.

They expel a breath through their nose, shaking their head. “That doesn’t matter right now. If we fix this, things will be fine. I’m trying to focus on that.” Unsuccessfully, mind, but he istrying.

Hades purses his lips. “And if the solution involves Dionysus remaining on Olympus?” he asks slowly, watching Charon’s face intently.

The Ferryman can’t hold that gaze. Not just then. Instead, he looks slightly to the side, over Hades’s shoulder.

“Let them be,” Lethe says, merciful creature that she is. “It’s enough to have the work to do, isn’t it? Let the young man have his choice, and then deal with the rest as it comes.”

Hades hums, and Charon wonders if perhaps he might not insist, but he doesn’t. At least, not here.

“Very well,” he says instead, softly. “But Charon… don’t forget that you can always talk to me. And you should talk to someone. We all need to support each other right now, and you may need the most support of all.”

Charon winces. That obvious, is it? But of course it is.

“I’ll… keep that in mind,” he replies carefully. “Thank you, Hades.”

That part, at least, he sincerely means.