"Oooh, that hurts."

"Ow."

"Get off my wing."

"Ow."

"I think it's broken."

"Ow."

Seated on his throne, Ares watched the two with exaggerated patience. Crumpled at the base of the dais, they  continued to lie where they'd crash-landed a minute or so before. The debris from the temple roof surrounded them, settling on top of them to add to the mud and various other unidentifiable things already clinging to their soaked bodies.

The pained grumbles and complaints grew louder, more coherent as they regained full consciousness. Ares began drumming the fingers of one hand on the armrest as the winged one, barely identifiable as his son under that mess, sat up.

"Are we awake now?" Ares asked in a too-pleasant tone.

"Huh? Oh...." Glancing up at the hole in the roof, Cupid looked back at him and smiled -- a severely dazed expression. "Um...hi, dad?"

"Right. Is that my nephew?"

"Uh, yeah. Strife?" Cupid shook the still-prone god at his side.

"Ow."

"I suppose you have a good explanation for this?" Ares asked, noting that under all that mess they were both very naked.

"Ex--um, sure." Cupid's smile widened as he struggled to his feet, pulling an unresponsive Strife with him. The instant he was standing, though, Cupid almost collapsed again. "Gonna hurl," he muttered, his smile disappearing as he visibly swayed.

Slumped against Cupid's side, apparently held upright only by the arm around his waist, Strife finally opened his eyes. At first he couldn't seem to focus on anything, but then his gaze locked onto Ares. The corner of his mouth turned upward into a half smile.

"Ow," he said.

Ares resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'm waiting," he announced.

"Oh, okay." Cupid seemed to pull himself together, somewhat, anyway. "Okay," he repeated. "We wanted t--to try doing it flying."

"Flying. Fun." Strife mumbled, slinging an arm limply over Cupid's shoulders.

Cupid staggered a bit at the sudden change in balance but went on anyway. "Well...lotsa fun. Really cool. But, uh, had a--a little problem."

"Uh-huh." Crossing his arms over his chest, Ares waited.

"Big storm; didn't see it. Flew in...lots of wind. Wings--my wings--"

"Feathers all gone." Strife patted one mud-soaked wing, the movement almost sending them both to the floor.

"Uh, yeah," Cupid confirmed, managing to keep them on their feet, although he was swaying again. "So, y'know, no feathers, no flying -- really high up--"

"Long fall." Contrary to Cupid, Strife was sounding even less coherent than before.

"Yep," Cupid nodded, then closed his eyes with a groan as the movement made him sway even more. "I, uh, tried to stay up." He opened his eyes but even under the layer of mud he looked pale. "Could've landed good, but, um -- mountain...in the way, and--"

"Splat." Strife giggled.

"Yeah. Splat." Cupid grinned a little. "So...we sorta...fell, and when we hit real hard and--"

"Bounce. Big bounce."

"--and we went up again, then down and...uh, the roof...and now--"

"Ow."

"Big ow." Cupid agreed.

"Is that right?" Ares drawled. Before he could say anything more, Strife stood up straighter, glancing around, a rapt expression on his mud-smeared face.

"Wow," he breathed, "lookit all the pretty stars." Then his eyes crossed and he slipped from his cousin's grasp, slumping to the floor.

"Oh man." Cupid looked down at him. "Hit his head...rocks."

"Are the rocks hurt?" Ares asked dryly.

Cupid didn't respond. He frowned for a moment, then looked up at the hole in the roof. "Ouch," he said clearly, then collapsed beside Strife.

Sending out a mental summons for Asclepius, Ares shook his head, muttering to himself, "We gotta stop inbreeding."

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