Insert standard disclaimer here. Not mine, never will be, and prepare for unmitigated Strife-bashing. But only 'cause I love him.
Back on Olympus, a small group of bickering Gods and Goddesses surrounded Zeus the moment he returned. Ares thrust them aside to face down his father, eyes dark with barely concealed rage.
"You just LEFT him? No weapons, no answers, nothing? And mortal!"
Zeus almost quailed in the face of his son's wrath, just barely managing to hold his ground. He attempted a placating gesture only to be blind-sided by a shrieking Eris.
"You brought him back to abandon him? Of all the..."
She trailed off, spitting curses and gesturing wildly with expressive hands, the gestures painfully reminiscent of those made by her son moments ago as he lamented his fate.
Drawing a deep breath, Zeus planted his sandaled feet wide and bellowed at his assembled family.
"SILENCE!"
The others drew back, staring. The interruption allowed Zeus to regain some composure, and he settled a superior gaze upon his wayward relations.
"Now, then. Yes, I brought him back. No, I did not abandon him. He will be fine. He just needs–"
He was interrupted, surprisingly, by Aphrodite. How he had missed her gauzily-clad form up 'til this point... well. It was a testament to his own upset.
"Listen, pops, you just left the poor kid without a clue. At least let–"
Zeus quieted her with a stern glance. She withdrew, huffing into a handkerchief embroidered with tiny roses and hearts. The poor kid, all alone and lost and scared... sniff.
"He will be fine. No one, and I mean no one, will interfere with him. Watch, fine.. But no meddling."
Here, Zeus shot a sidelong glance to the snuffling Aphrodite, who rolled wide, shocked eyes at him. Cupid, unnoticed 'til now, eased up to his mother's side and swept a broad, comforting hand across one of her shoulders. Solemn hazel eyes regarded the proceedings with some unidentifiable emotion- regret, anger, dismay? Just as quickly it was gone, and he ducked his head to murmur reassurance to his mother.
Ares clenched his teeth, muscles twitching in his chiseled jawline. He was not going to beg. It simply wasn't his style. Instead, he snarled and snatched at his twin, tugging the distraught Eris in close to his leather-clad body. The two disappeared in a bright flash, leaving behind a cascade of red and black sparkles. The remaining members of the House of War, most still grumbling or biting back curses, followed suit.
Aphrodite sniffed again, curling her slender frame against Cupid's broad and reassuring chest. With one last pleading look at Zeus, Cupid blinked himself and the Goddess of Love out of the temple, their usual display of rose petals somewhat lackluster.
Hera gave one last hard look at her husband, violet eyes narrow and calculating. She was certain something was going on here- far be it for Zeus to bring a God back from the dead of his own volition. Someone was meddling, and she was going to figure it out. Hera hated not being in control of a situation as tenuous as this. She flashed out as well, a single peacock feather drifting to rest upon the smooth marble of the temple's floor.
Alone now, Zeus heaved a sigh and folded himself into a seat. Attention turned to a mirror affixed to the far wall. The image of a weary God faded, replaced with flickering scenes of the mortal realm below until Strife came into view.
The boy would be fine. He had to be.
Meanwhile, Strife had paused to rest. Walking was tiresome. He thought longingly of the long taken-for-granted ability to just flash to whatever destination he pleased. Musing about lost powers, he abruptly wondered how long he had been...well... dead. Days? Months? Years? Death was tricky, especially in the void. Time had no meaning there. Of course, he had never really paid attention to time when he was a God, either. A century here, a decade there... no matter, really.
He was brought out of his reverie by a sharp pain, stiffening muscles making themselves known as he moved to claim a seat beneath a tree. What he wouldn't give for the ability to wish up a chair. Hades, even pillows. Suddenly weary beyond words, he dropped his tousled head upon folded forearms and fought the urge to cry out all of his pain and confusion.
After a long moment, Strife braced himself mentally and physically and pushed himself upright. Rolling the muscles in his shoulders, he grimaced at the clothing Zeus had provided. It was hardly meant for long-term wear, especially in the outdoors. Noting that discomfort, it was easy to catalogue others. Drawing a breath, Strife began to move once again, now in search of food and water. If he was stuck like this, he might as well do his best.
Ares glared at the flickering image, a growl beginning low in his throat. Strife was his, and no one abused the favored of the War God. Granted, Ares had slapped the kid around some...maybe overworked him every now and then. But there was genuine affection there. After all, he had practically raised Strife. He certainly taught him everything he knew, groomed him in the ways of the House of War.
And now? Calisto had taken his protege from him those many years ago and Ares had been powerless to stop it. The Fates had seemingly allowed his return (for it must be those meddling biddies, Zeus didn't have the motivation or interest on his own), and Ares was still unable to help his nephew. He growled again, dark features drawn and troubled. There had to be something...
Mind churning, he glanced down upon his brooding twin. Eris' slim frame sprawled on a scattering of cushions just below his own throne-like chair. Her eyes were narrowed, dark slits in a face pale with anxiety. Suddenly she flinched, and Ares returned his attention to the scrying mirror. A snarl sprang unbidden to his lips, fingers clenching into fists at what he saw there.
Strife had located a source of water, a stream beckoning to him with a surprisingly insistent roaring. Rains had swollen the little stream until it ran deep and turbulent, its banks pushed beyond regular boundaries until a fairly wide area was made marshy. Eyeing the whole scene dubiously, Strife edged around the swamp-like bank to clamber upon a fair-sized boulder.
Stretching his lanky frame out upon the cool rock he leaned out, cupping a hand in the cool water. Carefully, oh so carefully, he drank and was shocked to find just how refreshing water could be. He never would've guessed something so simple could be so pleasing.
Relaxing, he allowed his head to droop, angular chin resting just so he could peer into the rushing stream. Fingers dangled, and an almost contented sigh slipped from his lips. At rest for the moment, he watched the blurry outlines of fish dart back and forth beneath the small waves. Hadn't he once watched mortals catch those things? He was getting hungry, after all..
The sounds of someone or something crashing through the brush behind him brought him abruptly upright, and his hands scrabbled for purchase on the slippery rock he was currently using as a perch. Eyes shot wide and Strife let out a muffled shout before he tumbled off the boulder and into the rushing water, disappearing from view at once.
He surfaced, flailing ineffectually, the beginnings of a terrified scream fighting its way from gaping lips. He just had time to glimpse two very surprised faces on the banks of the stream before he lost the battle to stay afloat.
Poor Strife had never learned to swim.