#screams into a jar and throws it into the ocean as a gift to poseidon

[mvndrvke]

let me write stark family content damn it

[shewhowantsmouseears]

Love Like Lava, 2

Notes: As always, big thanks to my editors, Drucilla and BlueShifted! Chapter's late because it thought my fanfic was spam. RUUUUDE.

You might recognize some of the mermaids names as Ariel's sisters! As for the nereids, I just picked out pretty Greek names I liked.

Summary: Who is Hephaestus, the rejected god? And will Minnie ever get close to the answers she seeks?

There were many things that separated gods from mortals, such as not needing to eat or sleep. But for Hephaestus, even though he was not a mortal, he still had several of their weaknesses. This was why early that day he was groggily getting up from bed, rubbing the morning dust out of his eyes with an irritable grunt. He envied those gods that didn't need to sleep and could spend all hours doing what they pleased - although on the extremely long list of things he envied other gods for, this was fairly low. Once his vision was straight, he sat up in his creaky, tattered bed and reached for the walking stick that rested on his metal bed frame.

Hephaestus was an inventor, perhaps lightyears ahead of his time. The mortal world wouldn't conceive his smallest creations for decades to come, but he never shared his gifts with mortals. He once heard of a god who dared to share fire with them and supposedly that hadn't gone over well with Zeus. It was well enough, he figured, since they would take one look at his body and not expect great things of him anyway. Just like Hera.

With the walking stick firmly under his left armpit, Hephaestus hobbled out of his bedroom, his left leg dragging along on the hard floor. He was instantly met with familiar smells and sounds, the dozens of caves in his hefty volcano filled with work. It put his mind at ease, happy to hear his workers doing exactly what they were meant to do. None could ask for a sweeter lullaby than the carving of metal and stone from cave walls, carrying his supplies to and fro, while the smell of sulfur and lava permeated the air. This was home, but the truth was he was the only living soul inside.

“Good-Morning-Morning-Morning, Master-Mickey.”

Mickey was his chosen name, taken from sounds he heard in the caves. The mic-mic-mic of tiny pebbles falling from chipped rocks, the key-key-key from hot metal hissing as it met cool water, these were his favorite noises to hear and so he'd decided to name himself in such a way. Upon being addressed, Mickey glanced up at one of his dozens of mechanical servants, all of them named Axelia. Human by design, they all had the color of purest gold, save for the tiny silver screws keeping them together. They clicked and whirred with every step, and while Mickey supposed he could have worked on a way to make them quieter, he liked the reminder that he had made them.

“Good mornin',” he replied after a stretched yawn. “How's the copper collection comin' along?”

“We-We-We-Are-Currently-At-78%.”

“That's good. Very good.” Mickey closed his eyes, mulling this over, but he knew if he stayed like that for too long, he'd fall right back asleep. He needed strength to get through the hours and breakfast was the most important meal of the day. “Y'know, I feel like havin' fish today. Get the basket and a few empty scrolls. The girls probably have a million ideas already.”

“Yes Master-Mickey-Mickey-Mickey.”

As this Axelia prepared what she'd been ordered, Mickey headed for the cave's entrance. As he passed along the other chambers, filled with exactly similar servants who didn't stop to wish him well, he tried to keep his spirits up. There was no reason today had to be a bad day – although there was no reason it had to be a good one either. There were times he couldn't even tell a whole day had passed, as he shut himself up in the caves to work on his latest creations. Morning had been a lucky guess, and he squinted from the harsh sunlight once he stepped out. Now that he had real light instead of the dozens of candles that lined his cave, he could see that his normally black fur was tinted brown due to specks of rust and grime. He contemplated going back inside and taking a bath, but decided it wasn't worth the effort. The girls didn't care how he smelled, and his own personal hygiene rarely mattered to him. He walked on.

The volcano sat quietly along an ocean shoreline, on an island that no mortal had yet to discover. Dozens of sharp rocks along the coast prevented sailors from getting too close, along with the occasional whirlpool and unfriendly shark. Mickey had often wondered if Hera planned to throw him in this exact spot so that no one would find him, but then he'd have to remember her rage and her tears and her screaming and he didn't want to focus on that memory. Besides, he liked his island just the way it was. He had plenty of food from the small forest nearby, and all the peace and quiet anybody could ask for. He told himself this every day – I don't need nobody and nobody needs me.

Axelia walked out shortly behind him, carrying a wicker basket that held several empty scrolls and one jar of ink. Walking around the rocks was easy for her because she couldn't feel pain. Mickey visibly winced here and there was some particularly jagged stones scratched his skin, but as long as he didn't bleed, he didn't stop. His robe had once been white, but now was as grimy and gross as his fur and he only washed it when he started to feel ill. He'd outgrown it by now, and there were rips and tears here and there, but he never saw the point of getting anything else. It did its job, as far as he was concerned – he was covered from knees to shoulder. Well, one shoulder at this point. Only his sandals were kept to pristine perfection, inspected every day to see if they needed to be fixed.

Mickey found his usual spot on the shore, sitting atop a flat brown rock that allowed his feet to dangle near the water. He sat down, placed his stick aside, and once Axelia had caught up to him, stuck two fingers in his mouth to whistle. All he had to do now was wait.

One minute passed, then two – but before minute three, bubbles began to form at the water's surface. Mickey braced himself as the splash happened, splattering him with cold ocean water, but he smiled – his unusual friends didn't know how to make an entrance otherwise. Dozens of pretty heads poked out of the water, with shrilling cries of his name and giddy clapping in the air. “Mickeymickeymickeymickeeeeey!” They clamored back and forth, his own audience of airheads.

Nothing lived on the island save for Mickey, but this particular point in the ocean was filled with mermaids and nereids. While mermaids were famous for their half human-half fish appearance, nereids  could have been mistaken for your average mortal were it not for the red coral they wore around their heads and the gills on their necks. But they were equally flighty and flirty, gorgeous from head to toe and the only family Mickey had ever known until he built himself one. They tugged on his robes and his legs, each one wanting attention, but Mickey casually pushed them away.

“All right, ladies, you know the deal,” he ordered gently with a wag of his finger. “Get me some good eatin', and I'll get to work on your next request.”

Mickey received a choir of giggles and excited squeals. “I want a tiara!” “Earrings!” “I need a matching necklace!” “I want anklets!” “You're a mermaid, you don't even have ankles!”

“Fish first, you ninnies.” Mickey flicked a finger to the forehead of the nearest girl, making her whine for half a second before she plunged downward. Others copied the action while many still shouted out what jewelry they wanted on his next visit. Axelia placed the basket down, and held up an empty scroll, using her finger to dip into the ink and begin writing. Within seconds, fresh fish were tossed into the basket, more than enough to keep him fed for many days.

Mickey grabbed a silvery fish and bit into it, chewing casually as he heard each girl give their request. It was business as usual, and once they ran out of things to demand from him, they dissolved into idle gossip. On occasion, a very young girl would rest her head in his lap, and he'd stroke her tangled hair with the affection any father would give a daughter. He supposed that was ironic, as they were the ones who raised him instead of the other way around. Yet he couldn't exactly call them mothers either.

“Ooh, ooh, you won't believe this!” One mermaid – Aquata – splashed the water with her hands. “Poseidon says that the new goddess got her own throne and everything!”

“All gods and goddesses get thrones, dummy!” A nereid - Calista – Mickey had memorized each and every single name, able to identify them by only hearing a single vowel from their primped lips – blew a raspberry after saying so.

“I'm not a dummy! You're the dummy! Mickey's a god and he doesn't get one! And Aphrodite got a really pretty throne!”

“You're the dummy!” Calista began to tug on Aquata's hair, pulling out bits of seaweed.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Mickey grabbed his walking stick and tried to pry the squabbling sirens apart. “None of that. Good girls don't get gifts, remember?”

“I'm a good girl!” Aquata and Calista sing-sang together, which in turn got the others to compete and play. “I'm the best girl!” “I'm the prettiest girl!” “I can do a flip in the air!” “I can swim backwards with my eyes closed!”

Mickey nodded along, quietly amused and resumed his meal. The girls were nice enough, but often couldn't hold a thought together for more than a minute. It wasn't their fault, it was just what they were, and Mickey didn't hold it against them. At times, they were his only link to the outside world and the only way he could learn about things off the island. Speaking of which, for all their petty banter something had caught his attention. “Who's Aphrodite?”

Andria the mermaid took this up as she placed a green fish in the pile. “She's the newest goddess. She's all about beauty and love, and she's very pretty, and everyone loves her.”

Mickey blinked, but he supposed he'd heard of stranger things to rule over. He wiped a scale off of his lips. “All right, and where did she come from?”

“I don't know.”

He should have expected that, and rolled his eyes. “Okay, who does know where she came from?” Now he expected at least one decent answer, but more “I don't know”s followed, one after the other, accompanied by shrugs and asking each other even if they already answered. He began to get annoyed, though he reminded himself that these girls didn't mean to be this way. “Come on, someone has to know! Goddesses don't just appear out of nowhere!” All living things had to be born, and while some gods and goddesses had strange ways of entering the world, they still came from somewhere.

Rydia was the eldest of the nereids, and the most knowledgeable – although, at times, that just meant she could just remember the topic of conversation for more than five minutes. “I was there, Mickey! I was in the water, and this gigantic, big, huge, massive pink seashell washed up on shore. And it opened, and there she was, and then they took her to Mount Olympus.” She mimicked the shell opening, and the girls tried to find other words to use for “big” since it seemed like fun.

But Mickey didn't find it fun, his eyes widening in disbelief. “That's it?” He asked, his hands beginning to shake. It couldn't be that simple for Aphrodite, that easy, and yet the sea creatures didn't lie because they didn't see the purpose of it. “She just pops out of nowhere, and they give her a title, and a throne, and...” He trailed off, his fingers curling up so tight into his palms that he felt his broken fingernails stab into his skin.

I don't need nobody and nobody needs me.

I don't need nobody and nobody needs me.

I don't need nobody and nobody needs me.

Mickey repeated the mantra over and over in his head in a desperate attempt to calm down, but his teeth were grinding and his eyes began to sting. All Aphrodite had to do was show up and she was loved by everyone? He was the son of Zeus and Hera, and he – and he – and then he was back in the past as a mewling babe, hearing his mother's first words -

“This is my child?! This – this weak, scrawny, ugly thing? You were supposed to make everything right! You were supposed to be my champion! I can't use you! I don't need you!”

And he didn't understand, how could he understand, and she grabbed his leg and it hurt and he screamed and she screamed and he was plummeting and he wanted to know what did he do, why was this his fault -

“Mickey! You're crying!”

Indeed he was. Mickey breathed heavily, touching his now wet cheeks. The girls fluttered around him, trying to find his injury because they couldn't understand wounds that scarred the heart. They asked him what was wrong, tried to pet and kiss him, but Mickey wouldn't have any of it. “Must be nice,” he growled deep from his throat, snatching up his walking stick and trying to stand up, shoving off the girl in his lap. “Must be nice for everyone to like you right away, and not have to do a darn thing. Must be nice to get everything you want just by lookin' nice! Must be nice! Must be really nice!”

They called after him, still confused and bewildered, but they'd forget his woes soon enough. Axelia picked up the basket and followed him. She wasn't made to ask questions. Mickey's chest heaved as he made his way through the maze of sharp pricks, trying to remember his mantra while cleaning his embarrassing face. But his grief offset his balance, and he fell on the ground, his twisted leg throbbing in pain. Axelia stood perfectly still. She wasn't supposed to help him up. She wasn't supposed to give him pity. Mickey had made that clear on the day he first made his servants.

Deep down Mickey knew it was wrong to hate someone he'd never met before. But as he lay there, trying not to cry, his envy continued to flow like a festering wound. He choked, “I d-don't need nobody... and n-nobody needs me.”

Only one part of that was true.

~*~

Of course Minnie had no idea how much Mickey was suffering, as there were a great many things Minnie had yet to learn. As much as she wanted to return to the mortal plane and see Daisy, she decided that perhaps she hadn't been fair to the gods she knew on Mount Olympus. Maybe if she tried hard enough, they could teach her things – if she could get them to shut up about her beauty for a couple of seconds.

Mount Olympus had thousands of rooms for its eternal dwellers and their guests. They were constantly changing to suit the needs and wants of those who occupied it, and so you could often tell who was inside within a single glance. That's how she knew from a gigantic room that was fitted with spears and shields and smelled of sweat that this probably belonged to Ares, god of war.  He was the one that hung around her the most, although it was more fair to say that he was the one who hogged up most of her time and attacked anyone who got near. Sure, he was a brute, but maybe if she came to him instead of him coming to her, he'd ease up on... everything he did ever.

Ares was rubbing his stubbly chin, focusing on an odd mirror that didn't cast his reflection. The framework was made out of swords and hilts, and the glass showed a mortal farmer happily waving to his neighbor and wishing him well. Ares grunted, somehow displeased by this display of camaraderie. He snapped his fingers, and now the image changed to a pair of mortal sailors docking on new land. They were embraced by the natives with open arms. He groaned, and tried one more time, snapping again. Two mortal kings were working on a peace treaty, and shook hands after signing. “Aw, come on!” Ares roared, slamming a fist into the wall.

Despite having every reason not to do this, Minnie delicately called out, “Ares? Is everything all right?”

Ares quickly spun around, his helmet almost falling off. “Why, if it ain't Aphrodite! Comin' down to see me? Of course everything's all right! Everything's always all right when you're around!” As he approached her, he tried to tickle her chin, and Minnie leaned back.

“Well, if I may say so, you seemed a little upset about something.” Minnie tried to poke in the direction of the mirror that wasn't a mirror. “What is that?”

“Aw, it's nothin' you need to worry your pretty little head about!” Ares slammed an arm around Minnie's shoulders, and if he hadn't grabbed onto her in the same action she would have fallen over. “Awful sweet of you to think about me!”

“I would really like to know what that is,” Minnie tried again, constantly poking the air. She had to be patient, had to persevere but there was something nagging in the back of her head that was beginning to get hot. “Please.”

“She's even lovely when she's begging!” Ares squeezed her in close, rubbing her arm over and over. “Ain't you somethin'!”

The hot feeling got warmer and warmer. Minnie didn't know yet that this was called 'losing your cool', 'raising one's ire', or as Daisy would later tell her, 'getting really pissed off.' “Ares. Would you please tell me what that is?” Maybe she could have gotten an answer faster if she batted her eyelashes or stroked him in turn, but not only did that risk the chance of him getting distracted even further, she also knew that she shouldn't have to do that just to get a single answer. Minnie was a newborn and understood this quite clearly. As one of the oldest gods around, why didn't Ares?

Ares smiled down at her with big yellow teeth, eyebrows wiggling. “You know, you can call me by my chosen name. It's Pete! Nabbed it after a mortal who killed a hundred soldiers in a single battle. Can you believe it? One hundred! You can't get good wars like that anymore. It's a real shame.” With a heavy sigh, he pulled away, lamenting his woes while Minnie's fingers twitched. “Everywhere I look, there's peace, peace, and more peace! No one feels like having a good, bloody battle anymore!”

Minnie blinked slowly, trying to process why Ares – Pete – sounded so distraught over the best situation possible. “Isn't... that... a good thing?”

“Aw, don't worry about that big cry-baby.” From 'next door', a grape was tossed and it bounced off Pete's helmet. Minnie recognized this lazy party-goer from her gaggle of worshippers, constantly drinking and eyeing her in disgusting ways. A lanky rat, he was only a head shorter than Pete yet on his own he seemed tall enough to cast a shadow over anyone he spoke to. His imperial white robes were laced with green grape vines, dropping the fruit all over the floor wherever he walked. His hand always held a goblet of wine that never seemed to empty. This was Dionysus, god of wine, parties, and getting sloshed. “He's always whining whenever there isn't a war going on. He gets bored way too easily.”

Minnie scooted over to Dionysus, hoping maybe she'd finally get a decent answer. “Dionysus, right? Do you know what that is?” she asked, pointing again to the mirror, trying to fight off the heat in her brain. “I really would like to know, so, if you could, pretty please...?”

“Please, babe, call me Mortimer!” He took her hand, leaving a wet and purple stained kiss on her fur. “Got it after a really good bottle of wine back home.” A pause, his eyes rolling about. “Or maybe it was the guy who made the wine. Or something like that. Whatever. Point is, I'm choosing you to know my chosen name!” Mortimer seemed to find this hilarious, slapping Minnie on the back as his drink spilled onto the floor. “Makes us closer!”

“You closer?” Pete snarled, stomping over and using his large stomach to push Mortimer away. “I gave her my chosen name first! We're closer than anyone else! The gal clearly likes me way more than she likes you!”

“Girls don't like war,” Mortimer scoffed, popping a grape into his mouth. “Girls like parties. Ergo, girls like me, which means Aphrodite digs me way more than she digs you. Why don't you go back to your Viewing Mirror and watch grass grow?”

“Viewing Mirror?” Minnie piped up, waving her hands around so they could focus. “Is that what it's called? So you use it to watch mortals? Can I do that? How do I do that?”

“Girls like war plenty!” Pete towered over Mortimer, trying to intimidate him by size alone. “Ain't you ever heard of the Amazons? Just you wait, when the next war pops up, me and Aphrodite are gunna watch it together!”

Mortimer pushed his large honker of a nose into Pete's face, ready to give as good as he got. “She's the goddess of beauty, there's nothing beautiful about war. Now parties, parties are beautiful! Next one we throw, Aphrodite and I will dance all night long!”

Minnie absolutely did not want to do either of those things with either of these men, but just as she was about to tell them this, she felt a soft hand on her shoulders, turning her away from the shouting match. A male duck with golden curls of hair, his blue and green uniform was fit to perfection, with a four-leaf-clover sticking out of his left breast pocket. “I don't think you'll get anything out of them except for a headache, my dear girl.” Apollo, if Minnie recalled correctly, god of archery, poetry, and annoyingly good luck.

Minnie supposed he was right, and nodded as he led her away. Had she finally found someone willing to help her? “I guess so. I think they like hearing themselves talk more than they like actually having a conversation.” She missed having actual conversations like she did with Daisy, with equal take and give. “Do you know what a Viewing Mirror is?”

“Why Aphrodite, I know everything about anything.” Apollo kept his arm around her shoulders, and it was then Minnie realized he never looked actually at her. “Ask me anything, and I already know the answer. And if somehow I don't know the answer, it'll come to me anyway. When it comes to me, things always end in my favor.”

“But... But I did ask you something.”

“For example!” Apollo took a deep breath, puffing out his chest. “My chosen name, Gladstone! Did you know there actually is no stone named Gladstone? Stones can't be glad. Stones can't feel anything! Isn't that fascinating? Then why did I choose the name, you ask? Well, it's a long, elaborate story that's going to require several hours of your time-” Gladstone paused, Minnie's fur feeling airy – mostly because he was no longer feeling her fur. Minnie had given up, storming off and feeling that hot sensation in her head again. “What's wrong?” he called after her. “Need to do your make-up?”

The goddess whipped around, her dress beginning to curl up around her feet. “I am going to see Persephone!” she snapped, and by this time Pete and Mortimer had also noticed the prize of their affections had gone missing and jogged to catch up. She was quite fine declaring her intentions to all of them, if they were finally going to listen to what she had to say. “If none of you are going to answer my questions, she will!”

The three blanched, with Gladstone asking the important question. “Why in the world would you want to see her?”

“I just told you why!” The hot feeling shot out of Minnie's mouth, making her scream – had she ever screamed before? Is this what people did when they were faced with constant aggravation? Was a simple question and answer routine too much to ask for? Was this going to be her life forever? She'd never felt this way before, and she didn't want to feel it again. It hurt her head, and made her face feel like it was on fire, blood pumping throughout her body, her limbs shaking with a fury unheard of, and then -

And then the floor shook. Let it be stated again that Mount Olympus was in a place that time and space couldn't touch, and while it was a mountain in shape it was not like the mountains on the mortal world. Therefore it had no reason or logic to why it could shake. It lasted for three seconds, but it was enough to silence everyone on the mountain, with some thinking it'd been their imagination. Minnie, of course, didn't realize how bizarre this was, but as she saw the wild confusion on the faces of her three suitors, she began to settle down. What was wrong now?

“I'm not that drunk yet, right?” Mortimer eventually asked, checking his goblet to see how much he had in the past couple of minutes.

Gladstone made the choice to defeat the problem by pretending it never happened at all. “Like...Like I was saying!” he cleared his throat, taking out his four-leaf-clover and rubbing it in his fingers as if it would make sure the shaking would never happen again. “You don't want to see Persephone. If Hades sees you with her, he could kidnap you too! We wouldn't want that.”

Pete slammed a fist into an open palm. “If he pulls that trick again, I'd make him wish he could die!”

Well, if they were going to tell her things, she may as well stick to it. Minnie breathed through her nose slowly. “Who is Hades?”

“Oooh, the worst, he is the worst!” Mortimer waved his hand about, splashing Pete with wine but missing Gladstone by mere inches. “Lord of the Underworld, land of the dead! He's the one who kills mortals and takes away their souls! Real creepy stuff, babe. He's not allowed up here, thank goodness. Luck of the draw and all that.”

“I'll say!” Gladstone agreed for once, nodding in tune with Mortimer's wine splashing so he could keep avoiding it. “And I know all there is to know about luck. But Persephone, was she ever unlucky! Hades kidnapped her to be his bride! Can't think of a worse fate for any lady. Because of him, she's stuck in that gloomy, depressing place for half a year! If I were her, I wouldn't know how to get out of bed in the morning.”

“But don't you worry about a thing, Aphrodite!” Pete put his hands on his hips, standing tall and proud, jutting out his chin. “As long as I'm around, Hades won't lay a finger on you! You'll only have to feel my fingers.” He grinned, hoping she'd catch his drift, unaware one would have to be as dull as an unlit candle to have missed the implication.

Minnie was not as dull as an unlit candle, and in that second she decided she had enough company for one day. “Ummm. This has been. Nice. I guess.” With as much speed as she could muster, she willed the clouds beneath her to separate. “But I really must get going so I'll see you later, bye!” She smashed her words together, not caring if anyone could even hear her at that point, and jumped down to the mortal world below.

The trio of men watched her go, and then preened to themselves. “Poor girl must be shy,” Gladstone mused, chuckling at what he'd seen as a demure act. “I do hope I didn't frighten her off with my advice. Girls are fragile, you know.”

“When I see her again, I'll calm her down with a cool drink,” Mortimer said before gulping down a hefty amount of wine, letting his mind get dizzy. “Say, why don't we throw another party for her? I bet she'd love it! I'll go tell everyone we're ready for another round! All hail Aphrodite!”

Gladstone followed Mortimer, happily chanting the same ridiculous words, but for once Pete didn't follow. As much as he wanted to bask in Aphrodite's beauty, there was still the problem of peace waiting for him. It didn't weaken his powers, or honestly affect him in any physical way. But Pete enjoyed war, and he believed he would've even if he wasn't the god of war. It was fun to see men and women tearing each other to pieces over anything, be it other people, land or even just a disagreement. But peace...peace was boring! Mortals were only good for entertainment, and if they couldn't even do that right, why should they live?

But he knew as he sat down on his throne that this was unfortunately the nature of things. Wars couldn't last forever, just as mortals couldn't last forever. No matter how enjoyable a bloody feud was, eventually one side would win and they'd move on. There was no such thing as a war that lasted forever. He tapped his fingers as he looked at his Viewing Mirror, having to settle for a bunch of grade school boys bullying a smaller child.

What he wouldn't give for a war that lasted until the end of time!

~*~

The boys would eventually gang up on the smaller child, calling him names and giving him a black eye for the mere sin of being poor and tiny. But as the little boy made his way home, debating if he should bother his beloved mother with his problems, he found a ripe peach being placed in his hands. He looked up, and saw a tall black dog that would've been taller if he stood up straight instead of slouching. The boy knew him right away, as did everyone in town. “Thank you, Pugma...Pigmoo...Pygma...”

“Aw, shoot, Goofy's just fine.” No one really called him his birth name anymore, and Goofy wore his supposed insult like a medal of honor. He was carrying a crate of peaches and had set it down to hand over a spare. “Looked like you could use a pick-me-up!”

The boy smiled in appreciation, but his eyes drifted to the crate. “Where are you going with all those peaches? You don't use them in sculptures, do you?”

Goofy laughed at such a ridiculous notion, bending over to pick up the crate. “Naw! Art doesn't starve! Starving artists is a whole other matter. This here's for that new goddess that they built the temple for. Figured I'd go and give her a welcome offering.” The town soothsayer had declared that a goddess of love and beauty had joined Mount Olympus, and what was a soothsayer for if not to declare such important things? Goofy always automatically believed these things, and so he'd been one of the few able hands who built the small, modest temple near the edge of town.

Being a new goddess, Minnie had no claims to fame and no stories to tell about her except that she was pretty. As such, not many bothered to pray to her or give her any offerings since they didn't know what she'd help them with. But it'd disrespectful not to build her something, and so the marble temple stood, empty on the inside save for a single altar. Goofy would be the first person to give her an offering, but truth be told, he had nothing he wanted. Nothing, he thought, any god could grant, anyway.

He hummed a pleasant tune as he carried the peaches to the temple, tripping over his own loose sandals and making them spill all over the ground. He hummed as he brushed himself down, hummed as he picked up the bruised peaches, and hummed as the villagers laughed and mocked his clumsiness. It was what he was used to, and if nothing ever changes, why bother to complain? He had more important things on his mind.

Goofy made it to the temple, and began stacking the peaches on the solitary altar. No, he didn't have a wish to make, but he did have a thought in mind. “Meetin' new folks, livin' in a new place, might be real scary,” he said out loud, wondering if she could hear him, and content if she couldn't. “But I bet you'll do just fine. I hope you'll be happy. Welcome to the world, Aphrodite.”

With a simple bow, Pygmalion went home to work on his favorite sculpture.