You, Prometheus, stood in silence in front of your lover, Charon. You had granted humans their fire, you’d given the Gods their prophecies, you had been hanging on a rock for centuries after Zeus found out about the latter… and yet, you had never been more helpless.

“So,” Charon said dryly after a few minutes of awkward staring, his hands shoved in the pockets of his shabby coat and his eyes piercing, “you finally came back, did you? Came back to me? I thought you’d forgotten about me.”