Persephone is well aware of the fact that this place has different realities, different edges of places all pushed in together like some mortal was trying to make a hybrid plant. Still, in all the tales that she's heard told both here and back on those too damned hot summer days and nights when Hermes would tell his tales, she ain't ever heard anything like what this boy was saying. Her eyes just rolled over him, old, old as the world and she weighs the sounds that he speaks with all the gravitas of the Queen of the Underworld, and Our Lady of Ways and Means. It's a long and fraught moment before she decides that he's speaking truth, and Persephone can see the younger version of the brother who once back before her marriage had come a-courtin'. It's a damn bit odd to see those eyes looking so young, cause even when she'd she'd been a girl in her mama's garden, his eyes didn't seem so young and innocent.

"That does sound like somethin' that Daddy'd do if he had the ability to do it. Probably woulda done it to me if he coulda gotten away with it." 'Course, he couldn't have, and in the end he'd not done a damn thing in order to fix the mess that they'd gotten in other than mention how contracts were bindin' even among the gods. Now, it's something she'd given her Daddy a big old slap for, but there ain't been none of them (possibly other than the Fates) who coulda foreseen what that contract had turned into being.

"They're all gone. Been gone for years." There's a sadness in her tone, but it's an old one--one born of loss that ain't got the edges of being all soft-like and recent. "It weren't anything like one mighta expected. Titans didn't ever get loose, new generation didn't rise up. Mortals just stopped believin' in us for the most part. So, all of them just sorta faded out."