Claudia's Mailbag! (In-character Q&A's) #1b - (6.6k) (Patreon)

Somehow Claudia's come into possession of Hermes's old mailbag! Inside are letters from strangers, spirits, and secret admirers, each one addressed to the cast! No matter how difficult it is, Claudia's determined to make sure each letter gets to its recipient, and make sure it gets a response.

Sorry this is a week late, I had most of it written out but was in a slump for a few days and then got busy. I really enjoyed writing this out, I'd like to do more of these mailbags later.

Note: These interactions are non-canon, but how they would respond can be considered semi-canon. Things may change as I write them out.

And thanks for the questions! It was way more than I originally thought.

Q: Jackie, how do you feel about the myths presenting you as a famous womanizer (to put it lightly), especially during lives in which you’re a woman yourself? 

Jackie taps the letter against her lip in long consideration, ignoring the coarse paper coming close to cutting her. She looks to Claudia and cocks her head at the girl. "Tell them that I don't really care."

Claudia furrows her brow, digs the construction paper out of her pack and thrusts it into Jackie's arms. "No! You have to write back, and be serious!"

"Claudia, this question is an insult to me. Honestly they should be punished for thinking—"

"Write!" Claudia demands, and Jackie grudgingly obeys

A: Dear, annoyance. I am writing only because a young girl is holding me hostage. As such, I am full to bursting with ire, and I hope you can feel it in these words. YOU presume, not only, that I care at all how mortals present my history, but also that your morality matters enough to affect me. The actions I have committed, and the actions I continue to commit can be judged by none but a jury of my peers, and as it stands I am my sole equal in this world. And I have no regrets.

Q: Beloved Dame, what is thy favorite movie within the genre of romances? 

Damiana stares at the letter in annoyance. Johnny peeking over their shoulder at it. "I don't..."

"Dame doesn't like romances," Johnny says to Claudia. "We don't have to answer this, right?"

"Dame does." The girl fires back, allowing no questions.

Begrudgingly Dame picks a pen up, staring at the paper for a long, long moment, before answering.

A: romance movies are awful! they dont capture reality and they all have happy endings. thats not how romance works in the real world. romance in the real world ends with heartbreak, pain, and fucking suicide. romeo and juliet? thats the closest movie youre gonna get to how love really is. but even thats not true. wanna know how itd actually go?? romeo DIES and then juliet has to go back home and eat dinner and realize her life is never going to change and then she goes back to her balcony where romeo came to her and she thinks about jumping off every day but she cant do it, no matter how fucking much she wants shes afraid and she just cant follow him. and then one day she wakes up and shes already standing on the railing and she doesnt know how she got there and she freaks out and slips and impales herself on a fence and its long and bloody!!! and she wakes up back in bed and romeo still isnt there anymore!!!!! anyway...fast and furious.

Q: Sigourney, Are you hesitant to pursue your attraction with [MC] considering your complicated past with Mitch? (cover your eyes Claudia) 

Sigourney flinches at the last bit and looks up at Claudia, "How do these things know about you?"

The girl shrugs, "Magic..."

"Bullshit," Sigourney whispers quiet enough to not be heard at all. Then louder she says, "How do they know about me? And who wrote this? There's no name..."

When no answer comes she writes.

A: Whether or not I'm attracted to another is none of your concern, stranger. But, since the mail carrier who brought me this letter is demanding I give a serious answer, I will abide. Hypothetically, were I attracted to another god...Then yes. I'd be hesitant. Dating a god is like dating a storm. It's thrilling, but you run a chance to get struck by lightning. Which is why I'm not going to do it. I can flirt with a god here or there, and it'll be fine. I'm not catching feelings or anything. I can control my mind enough to not think about [MC] when I'm laying in bed. I don't fantasize about their hand on my lower back, or how they taste during a kiss. Or how—[The rest is illegible due to being torn here.]

Q: Harper my beloathed! Whoosh! You've been sent to the past! Will you still do the same thing as you did fully knowing the consequences? 👁️👁️ 

"Beloathed?" Harper mumbles, grimacing at the paper.

"It's like beloved but—"

"I know. Thank you." They say, cutting their friend off. The two are silent, Claudia's ever watchful eyes staying on them. Unblinking. It's cute. It reminds them of [MC], in a way. But that thought makes them remember the contents of the letter.

"You don't have to," Harper's friend mumbles, but Claudia stomps her foot.

"You do!"

"I do," Harper echoes in agreement, grabbing the colored pen that the girl provided.

A: How far past? Five years? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? I guess it doesn't matter. Maybe if I went back to the start I can stop myself from going down that path. If I could do that, then yes. I would. If I couldn't...if I still needed to do what had to be done...I'd do it better. Maybe I could find some way to keep [MC]from knowing it was me? I'd get [MC] on my side. Make sure we could stay together. We were always a team before, I was stupid from going lone wolf about this.

Q: To Johnny. Do you have a cemetery plot picked out, dickweed?

Johnny laughs, "No. But Dame's family has their own tomb—crypt? I don't know. But their dad drove me to it when we first started dating, gave this big long speech about their child's safety. He then said that...he said..." The words slow, sounding unsure. "...Wait..." Johnny stands, pokes his head down the hall to his and Dame's bedroom. Claudia follows. "Dame!"

Damiana pokes their head out, bleary-eyed. "Uh?"

"Babe, was your dad threatening me? When he showed me the crypt?"

Neither speak for a long minute and Damiana shrugs. "Uh?"

"He said that if I hurt you then I won't get the luxury of being entombed...oh. Okay, go back to bed! Thanks!"

"Uh."

Johnny and Claudia go back to the living room. "But, yeah. To answer your question, so long as I don't hurt Dame, I'll get to be entombed with them when we die. In their family's crypt...tomb? I dunno."

"You have to write...it..." Claudia starts, but Johnny's already reading the next one.

Q: Dame and Johnny, what initially drew you to the other? What's your favorite thing about them? 

"Oh that's easy!" Johnny laughs, handing the letter to a tired Damiana, still wrapped in a blanket. "Dame hit me with a brick."

"I couldn't stop myself. You had those awful..." Damiana lifts a tired hand, scratches through Johnny's perfect hair. "...frosted tips. You were asking for it."

The two laugh, softly and scoot closer. Then Johnny turns to Claudia. "Dame ended up going to jail, and only after Jackie got them out did I actually see how se—"

"Don't say stuff like that around kids."

He considers, and nods. "But whoever asked the question probably isn't a kid." He argues, and begins to write.

A: We were both sexy as hell. What can I say? It was a match made in heaven. [The following is in another's handwriting.] Johnny made me feel safe, and I made him feel seen. We were what we needed at the time. [The following is in another's handwriting.] What we've ALWAYS needed.

Q: Dame, having had a century to consider it, which name would you choose for Ares current incarnation. 

Damiana flips to the next question, and the next, and the next... "Why do, like, all the questions revolve around Ares?"

Claudia shrugs, "I don't read them..."

"There has to be a reason though, right? And who wrote these? They're in different handwriting, but none of them have names." They turn to Johnny, who mimics the child's confused expression. Though Claudia does answer this.

"They're fans of [MC], I think...spirits."

Apparently this is a normal enough sentiment that Damiana grumbles without asking further. "Well. I don't approve of [MC]'s name myself...but I never really stuck with a single name for them..."

"You named them?" Johnny mumbles the question, and Dame's face heats.

"Not for long! It was...therapeutic?"

The tension in the air thickens, and Damiana turns to Claudia for support, but the young girl's not focusing too much on the argument. Johnny then mutters. "Maybe you should just answer the letter."

A: As a kid I named them Milo, or Nadia. Those were before I ascended and understood what I was dreaming about, so I used the names of my crushes...Sometime as a teen I got focused on Sam, or Molly as names. Then I ascended, and I got my first girlfriend, so Ares got named Carmilla. I know, its stupid. I hadn't even read the book before I started using it, but it felt right. After...I guess it was Lancelot. Mostly though, I named them—

Johnny stands furiously, and leaves. Damiana waits a very long time before saying to Claudia, "He asked me to answer it. Did I do something wrong?" But there's no answer.

Q: Artemis, any favorite prey that you've hunted in all of your lives?

Rebel hisses as they read the letter, "How did you get past my traps?" They ask, hanging from the ceiling.

"Traps?"

"Yes! You foul creature! 'Tis impossible for you to have accidentally avoided them. Who has betrayed me?!"

"I just played hopscotch on the tiles?" Claudia, demonstrates, expertly hopping from tile to tile, avoiding the pressure plates. "But you gotta answer the question."

Rebel's breath comes out unsteadily, but they nod. Writing immediately, not daring to go against the wishes of this...monster in the shape of a girl.

A: There has only been a single prey that I've found myself longing to hunt again. 'Tis not a quarry you might find on your own. For it be a beast so elusive that it took me three lifetimes to track, and so dangerous that two of those lives were brought short by it. After I stilled its beating heart, the world was changed, or it might have been that I was. When your entirety reforms due to a single action, the world and yourself feel the same. Perhaps 'tis why, even six hundred years gone, I lie restless with the memory of hunting The Unicorn.

"There!" Rebel shouts, tossing the response towards Claudia. But in response the girl just raises a second letter, by the same sender.

Q: Has Apollo hunted with you in any recent life? Is he nice? 

"That fool? I would never..." They begin but observe Claudia, and know they must answer the truth.

A: Apollo has joined me in the past, but his feet are more in tune with the rhythm of a melody, than the heartbeat of a forest. We have rarely hunted large game, and neither will I ever do so again. He is clumsy in every life. But he has hunted with me, in most of my past lives. I enjoy his company, quite a lot. He will always be my brother. And he, regretfully, is typically quite nice.

Q: Hiiiii Harper, quick question buddy. Just how many times have you thought about MC while sleeping with someone else? :3 

Harper stares at Claudia, and then back to the letter in their hand. “Have you read this?”

Claudia shakes her head.

“Is this a prank?”

She does it again.

“What happens if I don’t reply?”

For a third time Claudia repeats the motion.

Harper leans back, confused. “What happens if I lie…or don’t give the whole truth?” 

At this point it’s unnerving how perfectly each shake of the head mimics the other.

Frightened, Harper quickly pulls out a pen and scratches out their response, sealing the letter quickly by wrapping it in duct tape, and handing it back to Claudia.

A: (If Harper never dated [MC]) Fine, you creep. I don’t know who you are, and why you’re torturing but I’ll tell you that I’ve done it a normal amount of times. I can’t count, because I don’t know how many times I’ve had sex. But it happened in the majority. If [MC] ever finds out about this I’ll find you, and I’ll hurt you. — Your forever enemy, Harper

A: (If Harper dated [MC]) I attempted...But I began to cry, and the person I was with left before our pants were off. Does that count?

Q: Hello there Sigourney. Have you ever had a crush?

Sigourney laughs as she reads the letter, "Claudia..." She calls with a wry smile. "Are you starting to like someone at school?"

"No!" The girl blusters, heat in the face and fear in her eyes. "No! No! It came from the bag!" She holds it up with both hands, other letters tumbling out.

Her mother picks the mail up, gently puts it back inside with a soft laugh. "Well if you do...I'm super fun to talk to. You know that right? I love to talk about crushes."

"I don't!" The girl blurts, then she drops her bag and flees to another room, covering her ears as if that could hide how red they've gotten despite her dark skin.

Sigourney considers the letter, slowly writing her response, carefully considering each word. Once she’s done, she kisses the envelope, leaving lipstick behind, and hands the envelope back to Claudia.

A: Crushes are not only harmless, but they can be fun! Of course I've—[Two paragraphs have been meticulously written out, before being erased with such fervor that the paper is thin and threatens to tear easily. The word "boxer" is visible twice, however.]—I've never had a crush, and quite honestly, I think its prying to ask such invasive questions.

Q: For Dame, Harper, and Sig. What do you want more than anything and what’s stopping you from getting it?

Sigourney finishes introducing herself to Harper as she sits down, then reads the letter and hums. "Do we all write on the same paper? We can send three different ones, maybe? Does it need postage?"

Damiana shakes their head, snatching it from Sigourney’s hands to read it once…twice…three times. “This is just a way to get us to disclose information that will be used to our detriment. It’s just a letter, we don’t need to respond at all. Neither of you write a thing—Ward, what are you doing?”

Harper glances up, already gently tucking their response back into the envelope. They look between Dame and Sigourney. Abashed they murmur, “If there’s a chance it gets to them…”

The other two, suddenly in unison, blurt, "Who?"

The force of the question makes Harper sit upright, "It doesn't matter?"

"It does. If you're sending something to Jackie then its going to bite you in the ass. She's not a genie, just because you're here with..." Damiana stops talking, squints their eyes at Harper. "Who?" The word is quick, and dangerous.

"It doesn't mat—" Harper's cut off my Damiana lunging for their envelope. Harper throws it aside, soon enough to not let Dame get it, but too late to redirect the rogue god. Sigourney delicately plucks it from the air, standing to scoot Claudia out of the way of the scuffle as both Dame and Harper try to get whatever damning evidence has just been tossed around.

By the time they’re on their feet Sigourney’s finished reading it. Disappointed, she drops it back on the table. “Seriously? You want that more than anything? What about world peace? The end of global warming?”

"It's not Santa Claus!"

Damiana finally, finally, gets to read it and hisses. “No!" It then takes another twenty eight minutes for the arguing to stop, and for all three to hand their answers in.

A: I want my daughter to grow up safe, supported, and without expectations to be anything other than herself. Unfortunately, the world's more influential than I could ever be. So I'll stand by and support whatever she does. — Doctor Sigourney Hawthorne

A: I want freedom from Jacoba fucking Roth. If you're reading this Jackie, then I understand that I WILL get it, bitch. — Damiana Rivette

A: [This letter has extensive damage, but the response is short enough to read.] [MC]...but I've done too much already...I wish I could change it all. — H.W.

Q: Jackie, do you remember Chronus? Or any of the titans? What happened to them?

“Tartarus, of course. And they can stay there for the rest of eternity for all care. Honestly the less I think about those tyrants the better…They were cruel, and bitter folk. Millennia old, and yet still acting like they were in their glory days. It was degrading. They were unworthy of godhood...They should have stood aside for my generation thousands of years ago. The war was their fault.” 

Jackie makes herself a drink, pours it slowly, her eyes staring into the burning fireplace. “Claudia, be glad that your daddy’s nice, because mine tried to eat me. Everyone thinks you’re too young to know the truth but I was younger than you when I found out. And I wasn’t much older when I became king. So I won’t hide you from the horrors of the world just because you’re a child.”

Claudia tries to write it out, scribe Jackie's answer, but gets stuck on the first word. She sounds it out for a long time before scribbling, and trying again, and again. This continues for several long minutes before things devolve. Neither party pays any attention to the other. Jackie's kept talking, while Claudia has quickly taken to doodling with the crayons instead of writing.

“So I stood over his corpse and I thought to myself…'This, Zeus. This is why you have to be king. It doesn't matter if everyone hates you, at least they'll be alive to hate you. That’s more than they had during Chronus’s reign.' But why am I getting this letter? It’s a strange question to ask me. Do you have a plan, Stranger? Should I be worried?"

Jackie slowly slips her hand into the fireplace, letting the flames lick around her. The skin doesn't bubble, it fears the wrath of its master far too much to allow such a weak foe burn it. Jackie mutters softly, "…No…I don’t trust this person’s intentions, Claudia…” She whistles and her office door is thrown open. “Riley, find out who sent this letter and bring them to me.”

Ten minutes later Claudia is dropped off at home, unaware that after she left a stranger with a bag over their head was pushed inside Jackie’s office.

A: [Written in purple crayon, and in difficult to read script.] Tartres :)

Q: Dear Hermes, what's your favorite memory?

"Claudia can I have my bag back?" Riley asks, looking under the girl's bed, as if she'd hide her new favorite thing there of all places.

"No. You gotta answer the letters first."

"And then you'll give it back?"

She doesn't respond, simply hands a small stack to Riley. The god stares at them, then back to Claudia. Without asking further, they cross their legs on the wooden floor and begin to answer.

A: Thanks for the question, Yon. I have no favorite memor—

Riley yelps as Claudia pinches them. "Be honest!"

"How—oh, come on. Seriously?"

Claudia furiously nods, her brows are furrowed and she wears a grave expression that Riley can't argue.

A: Most of my memories are mixed with work, so...my favorite memory isn't...exactly happy. My favorite memory in this life was when my older brother showed me his...well he called it his merry-go-round, but it was an art studio. I'd never really felt so happy before. He got out of our dad's farm, finally. I didn't, but at least he could do something else with his life. Anyway, that memory got ruined after I ascended.

Q: Dear Hermes, how do you spend your leisure time? Do you get any leisure time? I hope Zeus isn't working you to the bone

"Claudia, do I have to answer this one? I don't do leisure."

"You don't gotta, but your bag...could sleep with the fishes." She tries to mimic the way the cartoon mobsters talk.

Riley's mouth drops, in surprises, and admiration. "Is that your first blackmail?"

She shrugs, a smirk on her lips.

"Well I'll be...but Zeus doesn't work me to the bone," they shake the letter at Claudia. "I'm not exactly a hostage."

"If you say so," she murmurs, cleaning up the mess Riley made before.

A: Thankfully, I know who sends these letters, because if I hadn't, I'd very suspicious of someone asking about me so heavily...but I'll bite. I'm not fond of having free time. It's always given me the heebie-jeebies. Not having a task is asking for the rot to set in, see? Everyone lives off conflict, and goals! Which is why...I guess the time I have to myself is spent planning for the family, or...collecting things from the personal collections of rich people. Did you know that 85% of art is a forgery. Made that up just now, but you'd believe it from the amount I end up stealing, only to see it replaced with a fake because everyone wants to keep it hush-hush. And Jackie's not working me to the bone. If anything its the reverse. She always wants to take things slow, and steady. She treats crime like its a virginal princess, it's enough to make me go batty. If you didn't know better you'd think I was the boss with how much work I give her.

Q: Riley, in which life were you most jealous of Ares and Aphrodite’s relationship. Why that particular life? 

"Oh this—How am I supposed to answer this?" Riley murmurs to themself, intentionally too quiet for Claudia to hear. Still, she answers.

"I can give you a marker?"

"No. I just...I've never been jealous—"

"Be honest!" She demands yet again.

"It's too broad! All of them are..." But they understand what they have to do, and for the first time in centuries Riley's grateful that they know that these letters can't be misdelivered. The idea of Dame, or, gods forbid, [MC] reading this nearly makes Riley give up on wanting the bag back all together.

A: Every life? I can't name just one. Ares and Aphrodite were always together. Everyone else could take time off for a life...maybe they did too. Some lives I spent on my own, ignoring the pantheon. But I, personally, have never seen them apart, save for now. I've never felt that connection. So whenever I'd make my way back to our castle, or manor, or camp, or wherever we were, I'd see them. And it'd only reinforce my resolve for heading off, finding others to fill my time with. I guess, if I had to pick a single life, it'd be the original. I tried to befriend them both. I knew what this world would be like if I was left alone. But back then nobody really saw me as an equal. I made sure everyone changed their mind about that.

Q: Riley, you said that [MC]' shoulders are what help you identify them. Was there anything else that made you sure they were Ares as you watched their fight at Pete's? Or was it just a hunch? Can you describe how you felt then, what you were thinking? 

Riley lets out a whistle, "Other than me just feeling that they were Ares, I presume?" They ask, but nobody answers.

"I can't really remember. You see, my heart was being too fast. It was all happening at once, I just could not believe it...I...Claudia?" They look around, then to the ground floor and grumble. Seems that Mitch came by to pick her up. How long ago was that?

"Whatever, I'll get my bag later, I guess. But first..."

A: Ignoring the fact that they feel like a library on fire, and I could taste the rust in the air around them? Everything. The way their boxing glove began to move after they won the game. Cause, you see, sometimes after Ares won fights they'd stretch their hands out, fingers still a bit curled. Like imagine if you were a werewolf. Your hand would be all clawed out, right? Yeah, most people don't do that after a fight, but Ares did. Sweat makes their fingers uncomfortable. So after they won I watched their gloves. Watched their fingers strain against the leather to cool their hands off was fucking hot...That, and [MC] smells like cinnamon.

Q: Verne, what could [MC] do to "pique" your "interest?" 

They consider it for a moment. Their interest hasn't been piqued in centuries now. Where everyone else seems to be fine diving into this modern world, all Verne can remember is a time before electricity and bombs. They sink into their recliner, keeping the letter in their hand.

[MC], this new Ares, only knows this world. They've never experienced what happened before. Even worse, they've lived in New York City all their life. A city is no place to raise someone who should remember it all. Maybe that's where the issue is...[MC] doesn't know how it feels to be away from people. There are no more uncharted places. Fuck, there hasn't been for thousands of years. But at least before you could get lost somewhere, and never find your way back. Now the city's too bright for you to even see the man-made stars in the sky.

Verne grabs their pen.

A: Try to understand what we could have been.

Q: Oh dear Apollo, what is your favorite food and alcoholic beverage? Just to bring it for the next... Party.

"Starting off strong." Franco's words make Patty raise a brow, he didn't say it for them but its too late.

"Why are they calling you Apollo?" They ask, making eye contact with Franco that's a bit too intense. Implies knowledge they can't have.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

"Secret lover," Somaya chuckles. "Fake names, and shit. This one married?"

"Won't be for long," Franco laughs, then writes.

A: Don't tell the others, but Superman Ice Cream. Went wild for it as a kid, but it's been a while...As for drink? Anything that burns going down.

Q: Apollo, who would be your favorite poet/musician/composer of the last 500 years? Any one that you've met in some of your lives that has sparked something in you? 

He has to keep this one away from the others, laughing in that perfect way to make them think he's nervous and excited. Best for them to think he's a pig than a god. "Woah, nelly." He hums, and the others click their tongues, and groan.

"Well, if you ignore the picture they sent with it...they asked about my favorite poets, and composers over the last 500 years."

"Do you even read history books?" Somaya teases, just as Patty mutters, "Specific."

Franco ignore that least part in favor of continuing the joke. "With these crows feet I'm starting to get I think I am a history book."

"Don't be such a baby, Valerio. You're aging like fine wine." She knocks her knee against Franco's from across the booth.

"Well," Patty begins, turning to them, "Do you have any favorites?"

He has to sigh, name his first inspiration when he forced this persona on to himself, once upon a time. "Prince."

"Done to death."

"Freddy Mercury."

"Obviously. Come on, its a big time frame for a reason."

"I don't think there were composers 500 years ago." Somaya adds, but the others ignore her.

Patty leans closer, "You used to talk about that one opera guy. Giovanni something."

Right...Franco nods, thankful that someone's around to help him remember that.

A: I make it a point to not meet most poets or musicians, they're all so dramatic. At least composers don't serenade you with awful lyrics...most of the time. The last one I remember feeling something for had to be Giovanni Battista Pergolesi. I saw one of his operas, I think. It's hard to remember, that was so long ago. I wasn't impressed with it, and i'm not sure if I spoke to him after, or just someone he worked with. The man's face is blurry in my mind. But I remember hearing Stabat Mater some time later and feeling sick. I'd have liked to get to know him.

Q: Dame, can you tell us about your ascension, or a little bit about the time before or after it? Did Riley find you too?

"Oh hell no." Damiana snaps, balling the letter up and tossing it into the fire. They watch the paper sit there, flames growing around it, but it doesn't burn.

"That's excessive," Riley mutters. "What if they were curious?"

"They don't get to know everything about me." Damiana emphasizes by gesturing with the firepoker. Stabbing the untouched paper like a spear.

"I know how these things work. If you don't respond you'll get it again." Riley tries to sneak a peek at Jackie's letter but she doesn't allow it.

"Then let them pile up..."

It only takes Claudia returning 3 times before Damiana hastily writes a response.

A: It was good before. It was bad after. Everything in between was awful. Riley found me, but I told them to fuck off. I regret that I eventually stopped telling them to fuck off. I regret that I'm not in New Orleans anymore. I regret ascending. That's all you'll get.

Q: Heyyyy Franco, out of curiosity how would you feel about, hypothetically, dating someone who kind of wants to kill your mom?

Franco stares at the letter for a moment then folds it, tapping it on his lip in thought. Out loud he wonders, “Are they good in bed?”

Next to him Sigourney growls, putting her hands over Claudia’s ears. "Real mature."

Jackie laughs, loudly. The smile matching Franco's.

"I'm serious, Sig! Ma, back me up here."

She nods, gesturing to him from behind her desk. "Once, I was married to a woman who hated you. I'd be surprised if your playthings didn't want to kill me."

"See?" He grabs a pen from Jackie's hand, "That's called being a supportive mother, Sig. You should take some notes."

"You two should get therapy."

"Don't believe in it." They say in unison.

A: I'll help

Q: Dame, you and Harper, alone in a room. You know about their past with [MC]. You can do anything you want to them, and no one will ever know. Go. 

"What?" Damiana asks, looking to Harper. "Past?"

Confused, Harper reads the letter themself, dropping it like hot lead after. "Shit."

"What past?" Damiana asks again, but Harper doesn't respond, trying the doors.

"We're locked in here." They shake the doors again, breathing heavily.

"What past?"

"It doesn't matter! Just...Just answer them."

"It sounds like it matters, Ward. What past?"

"I can feel myself becoming claustrophobic."

An hour passes before Damiana finally answers.

A: I'd rather avoid being anywhere alone with that crybaby.

Q: Quinn, what's your deal? Why are you sketchy and who are you, really?

"Am I sketchy?" Quinn smiles at the letter, flipping it over and over with their fingers. They straighten their back, concerned.

Claudia, of course, cannot answer this truthfully. She has no idea who this Quinn person is, but she nods just because its funny.

"No..." Quinn mutters. "I'm...charming? I'm supposed to be charming."

Even the little girl knows this isn't the case, "If you say so."

"I do. Now, are all the letters going to be this judgemental?"

"I can't read them."

"Right. Mail fraud. Or...no, you're...what? Three? Young for a mail carrier, but that's life. Do you need money?"

Claudia doesn't correct Quinn, simply holding out their hand for the cash while also giving them a pen to write their answer.

"Would $5,000 do? Oh—I have to respond now? I've always had someone write things up for me, but very well. I guess I can't pay you to respond for me if you can't read."

A: I'm a good person. That's not sketchy. You're sketchy. And a jerk.

Q: Romances (mostly Riley): would you still love [MC] if they were a worm?

Riley stares at the question for a very long time. "A...worm? Like the wiggly kind?"

Claudia giggles, and nods. "I'd love them so much. They'd go in my pocket with me," she declares but Riley knows better. If [MC] is a worm then something very wrong has happened.

A:

[Riley: ] Why are they a worm? Who did this to them? How can I turn them back? Have they regained the ability to transform? Has someone else? Are my senses deceiving me? There are so many things that could have caused this, but none of those are anything good. I'd them in the ocean just to not deal with it. Hopefully their next life is normal.

[Verne: ] No. But I would make them a compost bin.

[Franco: ] Seems like a big commitment...

[Sigourney: ] I'm supposed to be the one to ask this! But yes, I'd put them in my pocket and take them everywhere with me.

[Dame: ] I don't love [MC] now.

[Harper: ] I'll get the terrarium out now.

[Rebel: ] What manner of question is this? Stop sending your messenger girl into my home...but aye. Whatever form [MC] takes I shall adore.

[Quinn: ] No. What connection could I form with a worm? How could I trust [Several lines are full of responses but crossed out harsher and more violently than the last.] I would prefer someone with a backbone.

Q: For any of the gods, what’s your favorite memory of Ares? 

Jackie hands the letter off to Riley, muttering "I refuse to answer."

"Not fair," they complain. It's useless to do so, even the bag has long since learned to not force anything on the king of the gods. But since this is not directed at them specifically they technically could decline it. So without a word they hand it to Franco. Who, in turn, hands it to Dame, who passes it to Johnny, who gives it to Mitch, who gives it Lyla, who gives it back to Jackie, who gives it to Casey, who gives it to Verne.

They simply stare at the letter, and then to the coward gods who refused to answer before them. With a disapproving grunt Verne writes their answer.

A: They once gave me a leather bound journal. In the time since then, I've filled out most pages with my sketches. To me, this is a memory that's lasted for a century. Every time I pick that journal up again, I remember [name redacted].

Q: To Dame. What do you miss most about Ares? Did you look for those things in your next partner?

"Why do I have to miss anything about [MC]—Ares?" They barely manage to correct the name, still caught on the last two words of the letter.

"You talk about them so much..." Claudia encourages.

"No I don't."

"You do! You said they had a cute butt!" She says with a giggle.

"I told you that in confidence!" Damiana shouts.

Claudia, having had this argument before rolls not only her eyes but her entire body to show how dramatic Dame's being. "You never said Johnny has a cute butt!"

"He's—No. I'm not doing this."

"You gotta!"

"I refuse. You can't make me."

With a gasp, Claudia stomps her foot and shoust, "You're a jerk!"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Twenty minutes later Sigourney returns, a bag of groceries in hand. Her daughter and Dame are sitting on opposite ends of the couch, pointedly avoiding each other. She picks up the note, and to herself reads the response Damiana must have written.

A: I miss not being cold at night. I didn't look for that in Johnny, but he still found a way to warm me up.

Seeing her mother is finally home, Claudia leaps up from the couch and presents Sigourney's letter now.

Q: Sig, my fav! what do you hope Claudia remembers about you when you’re gone? what made you become a doctor, and do you regret that path now? what taught and/or made you reflect more on your mortality, learning gods were real or working in an environment where people die? sorry for the heavy questions, i am inserting thoughts i would have if i were in her shoes.

"Oh." She looks down at her daughter, fear in her eyes. She's often reminded that Claudia will be here after she's long gone, but Sigourney tends to ignore, or at least attempt to ignore, the question of how she'll be remembered. "Let's...have dinner. Dame, will you be joining us?"

"As long as I don't have to write any more letters..." They say, before hissing when Claudia hits them with a wiffle bat.

Sigourney's unable to even use these two fighting as a way to ignore the letter. So she makes, serves, and eats dinner. Pays Damiana for babysitting. Pretends to watch TV with her daughter. Tucks Claudia into bed. And goes back to her room to pretend to sleep.

It's 2:38 AM when she finally writes her response.

A: I hope she remembers I love her. My grandfather was a doctor, he inspired me. And no, I have no regrets. The gods...If anything, seeing how much damage the human body can survive and heal from has made me feel less mortal. Of course, we can only do this with the help of other humans. We, as a species, are meant to help each other. They don't need anyone but themselves. A single god could survive eternity alone. Humans cannot. And its because of this that I hope we could be stronger...Not that I'd turn against them. After all, my daughter is practically a god herself. I hope she knows I love her...

Q: For Maggie, If you could say one thing to [MC], wherever they are right now, what would you want them to know?

Maggie reads the letter twice, and then looks down to Claudia. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Did [MC] send you?"

The girl, so innocent looking, shakes her head. "The spirits did."

Maggie lets out a laugh at this. This little messenger reminds her of [MC], those wide unblinking eyes most of all. At the same time Claudia reminds Maggie of...someone else? Who, though? She isn't certain. So she turns back to the note, she doesn't recognize the handwriting. "What spirits?" She asks.

"Dunno. Only the bag knows." Claudia lifts her bag and shakes it. Now that does unnerve Maggie. Something about that bag makes her feel small, and sick.

She's not stupid enough to ask questions though. Maybe this little girl isn't anyone, but Maggie's seen enough odd things in her life to go with her gut. She pulls a pen from the nurse's station and writes her response. When she kneels down, proffering the letter with both hands, Maggie has to ask a final question. "Will this go to them? To [MC]?"

The girl opens her mouth, but then is looking over Maggie's shoulder.

"Claudia, I thought I told you to stay put." Doctor Hawthorne collects her daughter without much of a word. Just a quick, "Sorry, for that," and they're gone. Maggie clutches the pen to her chest, hoping that somehow [MC] gets the letter.

A: I hope you're eating well. — Maggie.