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Mt. Olympus, home of the gods, 

 

"So..." 

 

Herakles was many things. A giant of a man, girded about with a strength that had challenged the world itself to contain, conqueror of innumerable impossible tasks(innumerable only to him, admittedly, whose education hadn't got very far in mathematics before his accidental murder of  his mentor Chiron the wise), faithful guardian of Olympus, even an accomplished landscaper. But he wasn't good with making complex judgements on the fly.

 

He rubbed his stubbled jaw with a hand easily big enough to contain both Scions' heads with room to spare, frowning in concentration. "She," he pointed a finger big as a sausage at the other Scion, "is not a god, but you want her to become one? And then go back to her world? After she's become divine and then needs mortal say-so to go back?"

 

"Yeah!" The Scion from the other Earth looked indignantly at Moira "You never said anything about this 'Pact', when the Erebus-!" She blinked at the unfamiliar word "What? Why can't I say Erebus?"

 

"Beats me," Herakles shrugged, leaning against the mighty gates leading into the celestial domain, "she's under Apollo's eye, I'd have figured he'd say something before you two got here."

 

A mortal would have been dwarfed by the colorful portal and its gaily-painted doors. Next to the older demi-god it looked almost awkwardly small.

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