As I stood over the frying pan, I asked myself the big question. How am I going to be spending this sentence of mine? If I was disallowed from working for a full seven days, I needed to find some other way to spend my time.

I don’t think I’ve ever slept that deep in my life. Not even the sun shining through the wall of windows onto my face woke me. And even when I did start to stir, all I wanted to do was roll over and pull my pillow over my head.

That was until I cracked my eyes open long enough to see the digital clock next to my bed. 3:12.

3:12?! I shot up in bed, making sure I saw correctly. Sadly, my eyes weren’t failing me. I had slept into mid-afternoon. 

Fuck. I leapt out of bed, ready to run downstairs, but then stopped and took a look around me. This isn’t my room, I thought to myself. Well, it is. Just not the one that I’m used to waking up in. It took me a moment to remember that I wasn’t at the Revolt House and why. Oh, right. Mandatory vacation.

I guess the panic was unnecessary. A few months ago, I did my best not to sleep at all. Of course, I couldn’t always do that, but I made a point not to sleep in. There were only twenty-four hours in a day, and I needed to use up as many of them as possible to get all my work done. But here, at the God Complex, there was no work to do and nothing to get done. There were no deadlines to keep. I could do or not do whatever I wanted.

I already hate this.

I looked to the bed, now a complete mess after my ten-hour long night on it. The white sheets, once pristine and smooth, were riddled with wrinkles. I could always go back to sleep. I shut that idea down the moment it crossed my mind. I was awake, so there was no chance that I was going to be able to get back to sleep. Besides, I was never a stay-in-bed-all-day kinda girl. It just didn’t seem like fun or even enjoyable. 

I looked down at my clothes, also riddled with wrinkles from tossing and turning in them. Well, first things first. I pulled my suitcase to the ground and unzipped it. When I opened it up, I suddenly remembered that I wasn’t the person who packed the bag. It was filled with clothes I had barely ever worn and it was obvious they had been hastily thrown together in the bag. The sight of the mess was almost exhausting.

I sighed and started to dig through the bag, trying to find something comfortable to wear. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a huge blot of white. Turning my head, I was greeted with the sight of a plush, terry-cloth robe and matching slippers. It even had the God Complex’s monogram embroidered on one side and my name sewed onto the other with gold thread. I couldn’t deny that it looked so comfortable, and I wasn’t someone who went out of my way to get something so luxurious.

Why not? I stripped out of my sweaty tiger kigurumi and slipped into the robe and slippers. They were just as comfortable as that king-size bed that put me to sleep with a simple touch. The way that the fabric glided across my skin felt good but weird. For centuries, my typical wardrobe was made of fabric that had some kind of friction when it came into contact with flesh. I had certainly had my fair share of itchy, scratchy uniforms, but the goal really wasn’t to be comfortable when you went to war. You just had to survive. Everything beyond edible food, drinkable water, medicine to stave off infections, and a dry place to sleep was considered a luxury, and therefore unnecessary. You eventually learn to be so content with the bare minimum that when you no longer had to live like that, it’s hard to get out of the habits you fell into. 

The growling of my stomach interrupted my thoughts. I guess I can stay in this at least until I’m done eating breakfast…or lunch…Dinner? No, it’s not late enough… Linner? Oh, us, I gotta eat.

I shuffled down the hall back to the kitchen, wondering what my food options even were. To my surprise, the fridge was fully stocked, even with potentially perishable items like milk and eggs. Did they know I was going to be coming home this soon? Or were they just willing to risk losing money and letting these things go bad? I picked up the milk carton and checked the expiration date. It wasn’t set to expire until next week. Eros bought this yesterday after our talk. The same was true with the eggs and the bread that sat in the wooden bread box on the counter.

I don’t know why I was trying to fight the smile at that moment. No one could see me, so why should I be embarrassed? 

The security room. I remembered Clio mentioning it a few times when Eros was being his mischievous self. The room must’ve had a direct video and audio feed from the lounge, but where else did they have cameras and microphones?

Putting the milk back in the fridge, I started scanning the apartment. I turned off all the lights and closed all the blinds, looking for any lights that would reveal recording devices. Nothing. I went into the bathroom and put my finger on the mirror. There was a gap between my finger and the reflection, proving that it wasn’t a two-way mirror. So nobody was going to catch a peak when I went to the bathroom. I checked every single outlet and fire detector in that room. Every electronic device, and even some devices that weren’t electronic to see if I could find hidden camera lenses.

Nothing. Not one shred of evidence suggested that I was being watched or spied on. This was a sanctuary of true privacy, safe from the outside world. Wow. Clio must’ve been in control of most of the work and kept Eros reigned in. All while caring for the kids. No wonder everyone loves her so much. I’ll have to do something for her. I bet she could really use a babysitter, especially with three babies. Let’s face it; Eros was always going to count as one of the babies.

Now, what was I doing? Right. Linner. Despite it being so late in the day, my stomach couldn’t handle anything heavier than breakfast food. It was still trying to wake up with the rest of my body. Two over-medium eggs with lightly cooked bacon and golden toast smothered in butter. Nothing to write home about, but it would get the job done.

As I stood over the frying pan, I asked myself the big question. How am I going to be spending this sentence of mine? If I was disallowed from working for a full seven days, I needed to find some other way to spend my time. 

Yeah, I could reconnect with my family when I was given the opportunities. Dion and I still need to do some sparring. I could also benefit from wrestling with Probos and Deimos too. Then, of course, there’s Eros, Clio, and the kids. Maybe I should do some babysitting. Dad’s getting married soon, and I haven’t even met his fiance. That definitely needs to happen. And it’s been so long since I’ve spent any time with Auntie Nike and Aunt Amph. And I still haven’t reported to Lady Nemesis.

The family to-do list was about as long as the family tree was, but they had their own lives to live too. I was going to need to find some other way to entertain myself if they just didn’t have time for me. Or if I was just not in the mood to have some quality time with them. A big, really complicated family like this? It was really easy for all of us to get on each other’s nerves. I’m actually kinda surprised Eros hasn’t tried to pitch a family reality tv show about us. Carry On with the Olympians or something like that. No one would go for it, but the fact that Eros hasn’t even tried is unbelievable.

So if the family was unavailable, what was I going to do with my break? During a week where I didn’t have to work and didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to, what were my options? I guess I could explore the homeland. Hell, it had been about two centuries since I had been back to Greece, and I wasn’t exactly there to sight-see in 1821. The Ottoman Empire hadn’t really given me a break to see how the country had changed. I could also just train by myself. There’s gotta be a gym somewhere here. And even if there’s not, I’m sure I could ask Ophelia to help.

Right! Ophelia. I need to talk to her. I looked at the stove clock. Almost 4 o’clock. She’s probably got another hour of work. That should be enough time to discuss.

Discuss what? You haven’t decided anything. This was true. I hadn’t really come to a concrete decision about what to do with the spare room or even what I want to change about how the apartment was built and decorated. You would just be wasting her time. It’s rude to do that, and she probably has a million things to do if she has to herd this family of cats.

How about you spend the day doing that? Think about what you would like for this place. What would make it feel more like home? That way, you can go to Ophelia bright and early tomorrow and have something to tell her.

Well, that was settled for the day. I picked up my dishes and rinsed them in the sink before slipping them into the dishwasher. I made my way into the livingroom to find a notepad and was looking for a pen when a flash of night blue pulled my eye back to the kitchen bar. Laying pristinely where I had just sat and eaten my breakfast was a pure white envelope. It was addressed to me in over-dramatic gold cursive. You definitely weren’t there when I sat down.

Paranoia set in, and I started sweeping the apartment again, double-checking for cameras. I was twice as thorough as I was the first time and still found nothing. But somebody had to be watching me to time this strange item appearing act just right. 

With suspicious hesitance, I picked up the envelope and ripped it open, not caring to salvage that expensive stationery out of some weird respect. Inside was a square card decorated with a sunburst effect.


“What are you two up to?” I mumbled to myself. This had Eros and Clio’s fingerprints all over it. They probably saw you come home on the security cameras and planned some kind of coming home/coming out/match-making party. Normally, the very idea of what my family could be planning would guarantee that I would never accept the invitation. But seeing as how I had nothing better to do other than find things about my apartment I didn’t like…

I reminded myself of the time and did the math to decide how much time I had until this surprise party. I scanned the front and back of the invitation and was delighted to find there was no dress code. Good, cause they’re getting jeans and a t-shirt.

I suppose I could at least take a shower for them. I tossed the invitation back onto the counter and headed toward the master bedroom to get ready.

Adrestia (Kelsey Anne Lovelady)
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