Green grass breaks through snow, Artemis pleads for my help

It's a true, in a way Claudius can't deny. He works through a sleepy logic of it, nestling against Dionysus's shoulder, "If the spirits truly chose us from stories they loved, they could easily read the same stories over and over. They wanted new entertainment. Something different. I suppose for someone with a tragic fate, anything different would be better." A little sulkily, as though to concede in some imagined debate with the mansion's spirit, he says, "I am glad Étienne is here. I'm rather hopelessly in love with him, and it grieves me to think he might have died so young. And Mercutio is a feckless bear-baiter of a young man, but I like him. I'm teaching him alchemical reactions, and he's going to bring me back gossip from his flirtations." All future things. Things that aren't the chasm of his own hopelessness stretching on and on, forever. He can almost touch the other side.