Over the Rainbow

Zephyros

Heavy hearted, Zephyros secures his thoughts, building a mental fence around them. There aren't many gods who can read the minds of other gods, but Zephyros doesn't want to take any chances. He approaches the entrance to the pantheon throne room, then springs back when he reaches the stairs as the doors fly open. He soars upward twenty feet to avoid being hit.

Hera storms out, striding down the stone steps, her blue robes billowing up around her as if her very clothing acts out her anger. Behind her, Zephyros's breath catches. Olive skin, long dark hair framing her face, her clothing tailored for comfort rather than fashion, and reminiscent of the free love movement in the 1960s, Iris follows, her wings out and fluttering like a nervous butterfly. She appears older than she had when they had married, more mature, and Zephyros thinks she's even more beautiful for it. He's never given a second thought about what it would be like to change his visage. Well, rather, he's always tended to follow Apollo's example - even before he was fully aware he was doing it - and Apollo favors embodying eternal youth.

A long moment passes before the goddesses notice his presence as Hera, on the war path, blasts potted plants aside, and cracks the granite walkway like eggshells beneath her feet. Iris follows, whispering reassurances and sending calming energies swirling around Hera, her voice soft and soothing. It seems to have some effect. Hera halts her destruction, standing stock-still, looking out across the grounds and down the slope of the mountain. Iris puts her hands on her hips, shaking her head, and Zephyros can imagine she's rolling her eyes as she had in the old days. She turns as he touches down, spotting him. Her eyes go wide and her smile even wider, laugh lines crinkling her face.

"Zephyr!" She beams, opening her arms to him.

He darts a quick glance at Hera, still immobile, before wafting over and embracing his former wife. They press kisses against each other's cheeks, and Iris hugs around his waist so tightly she lifts him off his feet. She smells wonderful, as always, the scent of honeysuckle and roses clinging to her hair.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, meaning it, and then closes his eyes and smiles into the hug, nuzzling the hinge of her neck.

"Me too," she whispers.

A tutting sounds. Hera, clicking her tongue, signals the end of their reunion, and Iris releases him, heaving a sigh. They turn to meet Hera, side by side, their arms looped togehter at the elbows. It pleases Zephyros, the comfort of Iris's presence, her instant acceptance of him after so many years apart, almost as if they just picked up their friendship where it had left off. He'd never been unhappy in their marriage, though it really had been a marriage of convenience rather than passion, mutually so.

"I never understood why you chose to dissolve your marriage," Hera says. She doesn't sound as bitter or disappointed as she had when they had announced their intention to divorce. But, at the same time, she also seems to have calmed from whatever had her raging moments ago.

Iris chuckles, sending vibrations down Zephyros's arm and side, infecting him with her good nature. "I fear, my lady, that you never will. Shall I help you set the garden path back to rights?"

Hera raises one sharp eyebrow, then looks over the destruction she'd wrought. She glares at Iris. "I'd forgotten how you talk back. Perhaps I wasn't in my right mind when I recalled you from that ridiculous shop of yours."

Iris throws Zephyros a quick wink, though he can tell she's more offended by Hera's insult than she lets on.

Hera massages her temples with her fingers, her eyes tight. "Anyway. I'm not one to interrupt a happy reunion. I think I'll retire for a few hours. See if that helps this tension headache."

"Of course, my Queen," Iris says, and Hera shimmers, vanishing in a silver vapor. "Sorry about that. She still hasn't forgiven me for leaving the first time." She waves her free hand over the broken granite path and potted plants, restoring them, then leads Zephyros into the throne room. It's eerily silent as he takes in the twelve assorted thrones of the Olympian gods.

His eyes linger on the one throne made entirely of gold, and he recalls the many times he'd seen Apollo grace it in the past, how Apollo commanded attention without any effort at all, and looked at once at ease amongst the other gods, despite his youthful countenance.

Iris releases his arm and walks around the hearth at the center of the half circle of thrones, facing him. Her lips purse, her eyes narrowing, though the quivering laugh lines around her mouth and eyes reveal her amusement. "So? Still?"

"What?" Zephyros asks, pretending ignorance. He attempts to control his emotions, to temper his thoughts. Iris is one goddess it's nearly impossible to hide anything from, so having her on his side is a mercy.

She lowers her voice, the embers of the hearthfire glowing momentarily. Likely, Hestia, perking her ears for news.

Zephyros breathes out through his nose. Sharing with Iris out loud is absolutely a bad idea. He rolls his eyes, and then holds out his hands, palms up.

Iris purses her lips smugly as if satisfied with the compromise. As messenger gods, they can share thoughts through touch. She places her hands palm to palm with his and he lifts the barriers to his secrets for her.

An hour later, they sit in Iris's small room, shielded from prying eyes and ears by a rainbow ward. Zephyros sighs and glances out the narrow window through indigo and violet streaks. He should have reported for duty by now, but knows better than to rush Iris when she's puzzling.

Iris stares at him, her warm brown eyes seeing past his physical form, and he senses her restraining herself from passing judgment. "Holy buggering fuck," she says finally, her voice breaking the silence and making him jump. "You really go in for the whole kit and caboodle, don't you?"

Zephyros creases his forehead, shrugging. "It's always been him," he says simply. He doesn't like the look she's giving him, like now that she has learned about his circumstance, something else she's heard suddenly falls into place and she isn't going to tell him what it is. "You see something more, don't you?"

She stands and crosses the room to her dresser, then rummages in one of the drawers instead of answering. Zephyros looks away as she tugs her loose sleeved blouse off and pulls a rainbow tie-dye T-shirt on instead. He looks back at her when she retakes her seat.

"R.O.F.L.?" he asks, reading from her shirt.

She shrugs. "It's a living. I enjoy the quieter life, but if we don't get the shitstorm here under control, I'm going to be a very unhappy woman."

Zephyros nods. While Iris and he had thought-fasted, he'd learned about her new life and of her budding relationship. "Fleecy," he says, not bothering to hide his crooked smile. "Sounds very cute." Iris folds her arms across her chest and gives him her best bitch face.

"You finished?"

"Yeah," he says, rolling his shoulders. "I talked to Dionysus. He gave me some food for thought. What had, uh … the lady of the house so worked up?"

"For one thing, being referred to as 'the lady of the house,'" Iris says coldly. "The others, well, the fact her beloved husband is out of his Olympian head. She finds that incredibly frustrating." She ticks off the points she makes on her fingers. "Being called out for acting in the best interest of all civilization before the assembled gods, even if she wasn't ultimately blamed, the shaming and the 'time out' she's been given irks her. The small fact that time is all over the place, and losing traction. Did you notice, coming here? Find yourself dwelling in the past at all? It's happening to everyone. All the past bitterness, grudges, even things that were so minute as a disagreement as to what to have for dinner three thousand years ago; it takes its toll even on the gods after a while."

Zephyros starts. "Wait. I figured you'd know about the time skip, but the past? That's what it was? When I arrived, even me talking to you now …" He glances out the window again, at the sky darkening in the distance. "Is it only on Olympus this is happening?"

Iris lifts her eyebrows and raises her shoulders. He can tell she's frustrated and anxious and desperately trying not to show how much. "As far as I can tell, it's only Olympus … so far. I don't know what to tell you, Zephyr. But considering your new 'connections'; of all the gods, he's the one I'd hedge my bets on. If any god has the power to … somehow … make a change in how things are unfolding, it's Apollo. Zeus singled him out as the one with the power to usurp him when he used him to alter the mortals. He even made him temporarily one of them, not once, but twice. Apollo has the ability to change, the rest of the biggies, do not."

As much as Zephyros already knows this about Apollo, hearing Iris confirm it makes him want to join Hera in her rage. Something has to give.