Athena is frustrated.
It’s nothing new; she’s had thousands of years to come to terms with the fact that she speaks a different language than her family. It still upsets her.
She knows that they think she can’t see their boredom, and the mocking glances they trade. She knows they think she misses the fact that they’d rather be anywhere but listening to her struggle to communicate.
And it’s killing her— literally, this time, because none of her siblings or cousins will heed her warning that their lack of mortal support is starving them of their power.
But she picks herself up and keeps on trying to grapple her words and tone into a form they’ll understand. For the good of them all.