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The Athens Gate Hotel is one of the city's shining jewels in the hotel industry. Tonight it has been taken over by several hundred dignitaries in preparation for the opening ceremonies of the 2004 Olympic Games on the morrow. And by 'taken over' the narration means it; both the ground floor reception room and the rooftop garden have been invaded by A-list guests, including movie stars, ambassadors and several deities.

The guest of honor is one Thallo Eirene, whose status wasn't something she was aware of until arriving at the hotel, and someone tried to whisk her away for a photoshoot with some of the other celebrities.

(It was a very reluctant photoshoot on her part.)

Now, she's ensconced in the garden with her date, mentally counting down the time they still have to suffer through before she can make a graceful exit and run away from all the media attention. The dress she's wearing isn't exactly helping with her attempts to be a wallflower.

"Your Holiness." Eirene glances up at the latest intruder, and smiles pleasantly. "Your Holiness. Thank you for coming, sir. I know that your followers are pleased to see you out and about."

That's right. She's talking to the Pope.

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She's grateful for the support, though saying that outloud would only make her appear even weaker in her brother's eyes.

Ares making a 'hmmm' sort of noise, glancing between the tiny blonde and the large not-god consideringly. "I would like to talk to you later, Eirene. Alone. Clark, please enjoy all our country has to offer."

Eirene manages a nod, her voice quieter than usual. "Have a good evening, brother." She remains motionless until he bows his head and wanders off to mingle with other VIPs.

Clark also offers a nod and once Ares is out of ~~normal people's~~ sight, he turns Eirene to face him.

"You okay?"

"No." She's also misplaced her appetite somewhere. "Just give me a few minutes. I'm sorry." Once the terror and the queasy feeling go away, Eirene will be more herself.

"Come on." Clark leades her out through a few hallways until he finds an unoccupied and relative out of the way corner. And then he pulls her into a warm hug.

"You did good."

"I came very close to passing out," she mutters against his chest, eyes closed almost as tightly as the grip around his waist. The nausea hasn't quite subsided yet, so Eirene intends on remaining as still as possible until it does.

"No one died, so I think I can qualify that a rousing success," the goddess remarks several minutes later.

"But you didn't. You stood your ground." He says this soothingly, rubbing gentle circles along her back.

"Do you want to go home?"

She thinks about it probably longer than she should, taking into account all the people there to see her, and the other deities; balancing that with the certain knowledge that, although it's childish and serves no purpose, Ares will take away her enjoyment of the evening, and make her worry incessantly.

"I think that would be the prudent choice."

"Okay." He kisses the top of her head and lets her cling for a few more minutes before drawing back a little. "How about we make one more round inside to say any important goodbyes, and then we hit the road?"

That ... would soothe any feathers ruffled at her leaving, and still allow her to make good an actual escape. And, incidently, not have to deal with Ares on her own when she's already nervous.

"Ground floor, at least. I spent enough time on the roof that they shouldn't complain overly much."

He nods. "Lead the way, when you're ready."

Eirene nods slowly after a moment, taking a few deep breathes to center herself, and steps away physically. Her hand does find his, fingers lacing together, allowing the goddess to lead said way back towards the reception rooms.

After a quick search, she locates the evening's host, their very own Ambassador to the UN, and begins her goodbyes.

Clark follows along dutifully, ushering Eirene from important person to important person, and trying to avoid any cameras, until after about half an hour, they're back out in the lobby.

"Should we call it a night?"

"I think so."

She's said goodbye to everyone she can think of that might be offended if she didn't, and some who just struck her as nice folk, no matter that they didn't speak her native tongue.

"Tomorrow, Clark. The Games come home tomorrow."

A kiss is pressed to her forehead. "Then we should rest up. It's going to be a big day."

"How can you possibly expect me to sleep at a time like this?"

She starts giggling halfway out the revolving doors, and by the time they're standing on the sidewalk outside the hotel, Eirene is laughing too hard to stop.

It's entirely possible she'll be up all night while Clark sleeps.

"Because I'm obviously crazy," he replies, giving the door a mild glare since he can't hold it open for her.

"You need to take a pge out of Mel's book and let yourself puppy nap now and then."

"Obviously. Good thing I like crazy people." She glances around, watching people walk past, and then looks back up at him. "Come on. I want to show you something before everything does start."

And offers a hand. All innocently.

"Yeah, it is."

He eyes her - and her hand - suspiciously. But he takes it. (Like he wouldn't.) "Okay."

Clark promptly gets treated to a variation of Air Eirene, which involves vanishing in a shower of gold sparks from Athens, and appearing about ten seconds later in Olympia, standing on a wide, flat stretch of ground, with sides sloping up at gradual intervals.

The reverence on Eirene's face is visible.

"Twenty seven hundred years ago," she whispers, "give or take a century, the first Games was held right here."

"Really?" Clark is distracted enough now from the gold sparkle things to pay attention.

"It' so quiet."

"These are only ruins now, though Dad and Hera have temples here. Modern Olympia isn't too far away. But this site ... I just wanted to show it to you because it's going to be featured in the ceremonies tomorrow."

Considering how tight-lipped everyone has been about what exactly will happen, it should show Clark how completely she trusts him.

"That's cool." And indeed, he does sound impressed.

"It's nice. I like it." He can't quite put into words what exactly about it he likes, though. It's just the feeling the place has.

Probably because for almost three millenia, that patch of ground has been declared off limits for any form of violence that does not pertain to athletic competition.

"Peaceful," Eirene supplies helpfully, her voice echoing into the silence. "Okay, we should go home so I can stress over everything."

"Peaceful," he repeats quietly, and then nods. "That works."

Clark glances down at her. "No, we should head home so you can rest, and soak in a tub with bath salts and bubbles and stuff and then try and get some sleep." Why yes, he is serious.

"Bubbles in a bath?" The look on her face should clue him in that she's never tried this before, and might be wondering how sane he is.

"You're serious?"