These are non-canon stories for Favor of Athena

Just after dawn, sunlight slashed through the trees at Riverfront Park, igniting the water’s surface into a thousand tiny sparks. As the day began to tease itself awake, the air hummed with the scent of freshly cut grass and the promise of unexpected encounters.

Athena was already there, her back resting against a broad oak, a book opened on her lap. She often found these quiet mornings essential for gathering her thoughts, especially the week she’d just had. “To find small joys,” she muttered, the words a ritual as they rolled off her tongue.

But today was going to be anything but quiet.

“Hey, Sunbeam!” a voice called out. It was Liam, bounding into view like a gust of wind, his buoyancy both endearing and exasperating to Athena. “You still reading that dense philosophy crap?”

“Dense? It’s a masterpiece, thank you very much,” she replied, stirring up a playful glare.

“Right, because Aristotle is the best breakfast read.” Liam bent down to steal a glance at the cover, only to crinkle his nose.

“Unlike the box of donuts you know you’re hiding in your backpack!” she shot back with a laugh.

Meanwhile, around the corner on Main Street, Gertrude was setting up her modest flower stall. Her fingers danced through the blooms, arranging marigolds and zinnias. To anyone passing by, she was just an elderly woman enamored with nature, but to those who knew her, she was a sorceress of sorts—each flower holding a story or a memory.

“Grant!” she called out, spotting her grandson approaching with a clumsy grace, arms laden with art supplies.

“I can’t believe you’re dragging me into this,” he sighed, the playful sparkle in his eyes betraying his words. “Is dodging your customers part of my job description?”

“Only if you want cupcakes afterward,” she offered slyly.

“I’ll take it,” he surrendered with a grin.

Across the street, Salem and Waldo had just stepped out of a local coffee shop. Waldo, holding the door open for Salem, appeared utterly less enthusiastic than his companion, who had a habit of diving headfirst into every new adventure.

“C’mon! It’s just a little street fair,” Salem encouraged, her voice teeny with excitement. “The painting contest alone is worth it!”

“I’d rather not watch you fawn over Grant’s artwork again,” Waldo grumbled, sipping his dark roast as if it could wash away the possibility of a crowded afternoon.

“How rude! Besides, he needs my help. This is his big debut,” Salem insisted, a twinkle of mischief lighting her eyes.

Paige, hidden behind her camera lens, captured snippets of life unraveling around her. To her, every moment was a memory worth preserving. She snapped a photo of Gertrude adjusting a flower, capturing the way joy sparkled in her eyes. Despite the fact that she preferred staying behind the camera, today, she felt pulled to join the fray.

“All this buzzing energy and you’re hiding, Paige?” Athena called from the park entrance, having spotted her through the lens.

“Someone has to document your donut heist,” she teased, moving into view.

Athena raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were above mere parties.”

“Someone has to make us look like we’re having fun,” Paige retorted, finally lowering her camera.

As the group converged near the park, the energy transformed into a cyclone of laughter, debate, and impromptu plans. They strolled from the park to Main Street, each moment fizzling with conversation. They discussed their favorite local spots and shared stories that had long since settled into inside jokes, the memories becoming warm sweaters on a chilly day.

Suddenly, as they approached a vendor selling lemonade, a stray dog darted past them, causing a cascade of startled laughter. “Who let this creature break free?” Grant mused, already feeling the puppy’s energy tugging at his heart.

“Guess he’s part of the street fair now,” said Waldo, stuffing his hands into his pockets with feigned indifference while watching the chaos unfold.

When they finally found a moment’s pause, their laughter lingered, echoing against the backdrop of the bustling street. In this unexpected whirlwind of life, it felt as though time had surrendered, allowing them to just be—companions stitched together by chance, cohesion, and the small joys they found beneath the surface of their ordinary lives.

And as the sun dipped low over Columbia that evening, each of them carried a piece of the day: the gentle warmth of friendship, moments of silliness, and the kind of spontaneous adventures that made the world feel boundless and bright.