“Goddess,” Seungwan utters in reverence, kneeling in front of the woman.

“Stand up, young hero,” Irene, Eirene, mumbles quickly as a few patrons eye them suspiciously. “We are at a Starbucks.”

“Oh, apologies, dear goddess,” the blonde says, head still inclined. “I haven’t been in this realm for a long time.”

“Yes, mortals don’t kneel for us anymore,” the brunette advised, grabbing the other woman’s arm as they move ahead in line. “And please, lower your voice. Can’t have anyone thinking we have some play going on.”

“O beautiful one, what is ?” Seungwan whispers, leaning closer mere centimeters from the brunette’s ear.

Irene blushes despite herself. “Never mind that now. Come on, I’ll get you something to drink.”

“As expected of the kind goddess,” the hero smiles widely, a dimple appearing on her cheek. “You have not changed since we last met during the battle of Troy.”

“Hi, can we have two hot chocolates, please? Grande, thanks,” Irene smiles at the dazed barista, who only nods in acknowledgement. She hands in a couple of dollar bills, pointedly ignoring the hero's words.

They move to the side. “So many things have changed,” Seungwan mumbles in wonder. “What are those thin blocks the mortals are holding?”

“Oh, those are called smartphones.”

“Smartphones,” the blonde says slowly, testing out the new word. “Why is it smart? Was it made by the goddess, Athena?”

Irene scratches her head. “I mean, yeah, she probably gifted them the idea but mortals invented it.”

The other woman just nods, inclining her head as the barista hands her their drinks with a smile. “Thank you, mortal.”

“Sorry, she’s a method actor,” Irene smiles apologetically at the barista, who only looks confused, pulling out a couple more bills from her pocket and putting it in the tip jar. “Thanks again.”

---

“Okay, rule number one,” the goddess says as they walk down the street, dodging mortals who are probably on their way to work. “Don’t call them mortals.”

“Apologies, dear goddess, I didn’t sense any celestial presence in there.”

“No, I mean, just don’t refer to people as mortals,” Irene shakes her head at the oblivious hero fondly. “And don’t call me goddess.”

“As you wish, my lady,” the blonde inclines her head again.

“Don’t call me that, either,” Irene admonishes, shivering against strong winds.

“Ah, what should I call you then, my lady?” Seungwan asks, shrugging off her coat and placing it on the goddess’ shoulders. “You can take the garment, my lady. The blacksmith goddess herself resurrected me from the great forges. I do not feel cold, even with the weather.”

Irene nods absently, already feeling warm at how caring the hero is despite her sole purpose in her eternal life. Seungwan was sacrificed to the gods as a young woman to win the war. The goddess of blacksmiths, Hephaestus, took pity on her and revived her as a soldier. The goddess can still recall the ruthless killing machine that was Seungwan in the face of battle, eyes red with fury, pulling out a sword from underneath her skin. The blacksmith goddess embedded her body with multiple weapons that she can summon at will.

She remembers interfering to release the hero’s soul to give Seungwan peace as the enemies brutalize her mortal body.

“Is something the matter, my lady?”