With speed worthy of his godly station, he shoved the fork into Charon's mouth, leaving the honey-drenched item on his tongue. "Open up!"Ĭharon cautiously opened his mouth, unsure if he would even like human food, but Hermes didn't wait to hear any such remarks. He held the sweet out to Charon, a broad smile on his face. “Loukoumades!” Hermes exclaimed cheerfully, stabbing the fork into one of the fried dough balls. An eyeblink later and Hermes was back, plopped on his own stool, knees touching Charon’s leg. Charon knew that it was significantly less than what the goods were worth and watched with interest as the proprietor gently scooped doughy orbs into a small ceramic bowl, drizzling the top with honey and finishing the presentation by placing a small two-pronged fork into the mound. He argued with the cart proprietor a short while before handing over a single coin of human currency. Hermes flitted over to the cart, magically cutting to the front of the line. Without argument, Charon sat on the far too small stool, his knees coming up to his chest awkwardly. “How about we take a short break, boss?” Carefully, Hermes guided him over to one of the food carts, pulling out a small cushioned stool for Charon to sit on. “You doing alright there, boss?” he asked, eyes large and searching.Ĭharon nodded, letting out a small grunt, attempting to placate the little god. Hermes slowed his pace, looking over his shoulder curiously at his companion. He found it overwhelming, subconsciously squeezing Hermes’ hand to ground himself. The stories he heard from passing shades and Hermes didn’t hold a candle to seeing it all happen in the flesh. Despite having run his own small trading posts in the underworld for millennia upon millennia, they never once were this lively. Charon remained quiet, taking in Hermes’ words and the chaos around them. Never once letting go, Hermes guided him through the hustle and bustle, chattering about everything and nothing all the while. It was extremely apparent to Charon why Hermes thrived here. Children ran amok, bumping into animals and people alike with reckless abandon. In between their stands stood small carts serving food and drink to a small but ever-present queue of patrons. Merchants were harking their wares left and right. Lanterns were lit and hung high enough to bask the town square in a soft glow, making the fabrics shimmer and the gold jewelry shine. Despite the sun having long since set, it was a flourishing center of trade. “We’re at the entrance, associate! You’re going to love this place!”Ĭharon let Hermes lead him through the entrance into the night market. Charon felt a heat rise on his face, a heat that only burned hotter when Hermes grabbed hold of his hand. He retwisted the scarf securely in place and gave Charon a small kiss on the cheek. Hermes quickly glanced around, ensuring no one was looking their way before hovering off the ground to better reach around Charon’s neck. Then I’ll have to beat everyone back with a stick in order to keep you to myself.” “You mess with it too much, and it may slip and reveal that lovely face of yours. “Stop touching it,” Hermes chided, appearing at Charon’s side. The bright oranges, yellows, and reds of the scarf clashed with Charon’s usual dark robes, and he tugged at the soft fabric again. His tall frame stood out even in the human realm, a head above the tallest man in the city. They made an odd couple, he thought, fondly watching the way Hermes darted through the town. Why, he didn’t know exactly, but seeing Hermes look so dejected at not having Charon along was significantly worse than any heart palpitations from being separated from the twisting Styx, Lethe, and Phelgethon. And yet, when he saw the crestfallen look on Hermes’ face at his refusal, Charon found himself agreeing. He had never left the comforting quiet of his rivers other than to make the very rare trip to the House, the thought of leaving them behind causing undue anxiety in his chest. When Hermes suggested joining him on a trip to a human market, Charon had hesitated. “We’re nearly there, my associate!” the trickster god sang, skipping along the well-worn stone path. He glanced over at his much shorter partner, his neck oddly bare now that his trademark scarf was on Charon instead. Hermes had stated with absolute certainty that it would conceal his skeletal features, but now that they were approaching the entrance to the market, he was beginning to have doubts. Charon fiddled with the scarf wrapped around his neck.
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