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[personal profile] k_a_webb
I am Hestia. Well, most of the time I am anyway, but that isn’t important right now. Our names never are, when we first make the decision to connect with someone, as we want to give them a chance to get to know us first, before they start learning something about who we aren’t. That is the major problem with the myths that surround us – they are more about who someone wanted us to be and less about the people we actually are, which is part of the reason we’ve chosen to be a part of this, because it would have been easy enough for us to walk away. For a while I was going to, thinking that it wasn’t possible for someone to really write down what I wanted them to, but so far this does seem to be working. It’s a nice surprise and I can feel how uncomfortable she is writing this.

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[personal profile] k_a_webb
There were days when Persephone couldn’t believe that her only daughter was nearly 300 years old. She could still remember the day, as she could with both her sons, that Callidora had been born. It had been a rainy mid-autumn day, so it made sense that Callie loved the autumn more than any other season. Archimedes, her eldest son, had been a winter boy. He’d been born on the day of the first snow that year, over a millennium before Callie. Phelix was a spring boy. Giving birth to such a bright boy, a boy whose eyes always reminded her of the first buds of spring, was a surprise because both she and Hades were dark. He was 500 years older than Callie.

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The Many Worlds of K. A. Webb

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