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Ganymede comes in looking rather different than he has been: he's dressed in dark jeans, black boots, a shirt so deep blue it's nearly black, face unpainted. He sits down with a leather portfolio, making notes in quick handwriting, narrow, slanted and elegant.

It's time for a new identity, though he rather likes the one he has; Ganymede liked to be prepared either way. He sighs, and checks his watch, the hammered metal band glinting in the light.

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"Ganymede?" Sinric calls softly, a little unsure seeing his friend looks so different today.

He turns at the sound of his name, revealing longer hair tied back with a braided leather tie, and his eyes flick across the swath of people where he'd heard the sound come from until he spots Sinric.

"Hello," he greets, a tiny smile touching his face. "It's still me, Sinric."

He gives Ganymede a quick look over, taking in the changes. "Would you like some wine, my friend?"

"If you'd like," he says. "It's been a while for me. Four, five months."

Sinric brings over two glasses of a rich Greek red he favours. "Then shall we drink to your return?"

He lets his fingers brush Ganymede's as he passes him the glass. "How have things been with you?"

Ganymede gladly takes it; he's thirsty and while he normally would drink water or something less alcoholic, he's glad to not be the one serving someone else. "It's been...hectic. I had a visitor who was...unwelcome. He sent one of my housemates to the hospital. He's a nine-year-old boy."

Now with a broken arm and nose.

"Oh no! How terrible!" Sinric is agast. "Will the boy be well?"

The question of Did he hurt you? lingers unasked. Yet.

Edited 2016-03-29 00:52 (UTC)

"He has a broken arm and nose, but otherwise he should be alright," he sighs. "It just doesn't stop me feeling responsible for him."

He offers Ganymede his hand in reassurance. "And this unwanted guest? What can be done of him?"

"Not much," he says. "I've known him a long time. I've yet to find a way to legitimately make him go away."

"He has done harm to a child. Is that not reason enough under law? Or are there no such laws in your time?"

"What exactly would laws made by men do to a god?" he asks.

Sinric covers his mouth in shock and understanding. "Oh Ganymede, forgive me. I didn't realise. What will you do?"

"The same thing I have always done: live with it," he says. "There's very little it's possible to do to him, whether I'd want to or not."

Sinric's eyes soften with sadness. "Is there anything I can do? To help you?"

"I'm not hurt," he says, shaking his head and making the short ponytail sway, not yet long enough to brush his shoulders. "He doesn't tend to cause physical harm if I don't outright refuse him."

He usually does, but caught in a house full of already traumatized mortals, Ganymede had been between the proverbial rock and hard place. "Usually."

Sinric felt questions and suggestions come to his lips but he bit then back. Ganymede was old and wise and far more experienced with such things than Sinric. He doubts he can suggest anything Ganymede has not already thought of.

Instead he holds out a gentle hand. "Rest here a while. At the very least, it will give you time to rebuild your strength. And you are amongst friends."

Ganymede laughs once at that. "I am among friends everywhere I go, if I remember men are capricious and dislike being turned down."

It seems like a dark life when he says it that way, but it's true. All his accomplishments, all the wealth and property and history he has mean nothing in some situations.

Sinric bites his lip, unsure there is anything he can do to help Ganymede. He had intended to offer him company, perhaps a massage to ease his tension but the bitter sharpness in Ganymede tone makes him second guess whether or not the offer would be welcomed.

"It's not you," he says. "It really isn't. I'm afraid I'm just poor company, but I tend to be after Zeus."

His smile dims until it's just barely more than a neutral expression, shaking his head. "I'm a little sore. It makes me bitchy," Ganymede murmurs.

Sinric's expression softens and he holds out a hand. "My friend, will you allow me to soothe and salve you. I have little to offer but I can offer you that."

"It's nothing more than just bruises," he says on a sigh. "But I can come with you."

"Only if you desire my company." Sinric says gently. "I'm not... someone who'll get upset if you turn me down."

"I rarely need to be alone," he says. "I'd appreciate it."

He smiles and ducks a nod. He holds a hand out to Ganymede. "Would you prefer your room or one of mine choosing?"

"Yours might be better," he says with a quiet sigh.

He holds a gentle hand out to Ganymede and invites him upstairs.

Fiachra enters through the back door ahead of Athelstan and immediately his head comes up on point as he catches a scent on the air.

He turns towards Ganymede, stares at him for a long moment, and then his tail starts to wag.

The dog gets a glance, and Ganymede finishes his sentence before he looks up again to see that tail wagging, at which he smiles.

"You've gotten so big, haven't you," he says, holding a hand out to Fiachra and wiggling his fingers in an invitation to come close to be petted. "Do I still smell the same, hm?"

"Close enough that he knows you", Athelstan says with a smile, following more slowly as Fiachra runs up for the promised petting, pausing for a play bow as he gets close. "And is very happy to see you again."

"I suppose I should be glad of that," Ganymede murmurs, scratching the stiff cartilage of the dog's ears. "How have you two been?"

"He is fine, as ever", Athelstan says with affection, petting the dog's back. "I'm... well, you know. Most days are good."

"I'm glad for that. You deserve good days."

The fact that he doesn't elaborate is a clue that he isn't having the best days, but Ganymede doesn't say much about it.

"Thank you." He glances up at Ganymede. "And you?"

"It's been...difficult," he says. "I had an unwanted visitor a little while ago."

That gets a more careful look.

"Was it him?"

"Him?" he echoes. "Zeus, you mean? It was."

What other unwanted visitors would he have? Ganymede generally gets along with people the world around, save the one.

Athelstan nods quietly.

"He can always find you if he wants to, of course."

"Precisely. It...isn't so bad, though. It's some bruises, and a little shouting. But after a very long discussion with my houseguests, no one is very concerned right now."

"That must have been an interesting explanation to your house guests. But if he's gone... are you moving on again?"

"I am," he confirms. "Time for a new identity, a new place. I've had a good run as Benjamin Prince."

But it's almost over. "Trying to decide where to go now."

Athelstan glances at the door, thinking.

"What if it was to a whole new world?"

Ganymede laughs once, a harsher sound than most people are used to hearing from him. "You don't think your new people would be the least bit uncomfortable with someone like me?"

"Who says you would have to stay in the North?" he counters. "You could go wherever you like."

Because yes, of course they would.

"So yes," he says simply.

"Yes", Athelstan has to agree. "Though strangers passing through may be excused many things that their own - or foreign settlers - never would."

And Ganymede is hardly going to be trying to convert them to any new religion.

"I think more people than just that village may take exception to my...persona," he says. "They usually did."

"Well, it doesn't have to be my world, anyway. It could be any one of so many."

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