Hades was warm and soft to the the touch; his shape encapsulating his love for Prometheus.

“Just open your wings and let the air flow through them,” Hades reached out with his soul to soothe Prometheus and check on him.

“Would you like me to cycle your aether?” He asked, gently squeezing his poor mass of broken shards.

Hades was honestly happy as a clam to just fret and dote. His duties were so... terrible, honestly. Consorting with small-minded, violent little bastards day in and day out... when he considered it, dragons were a people that might do what they did: forfeit a huge amount of their people for the good of all.