A tinge of sympathy is exhibited as Mel nods. "I've heard of that happening; us disappearing if there is no one to remember or worship." The Goddess visibly shudders at the thought. That was a fucking nightmare, the worst sort she'd concoct.

With a soft huff, the deity murmurs, "At least you have a somewhat distinct story. My world has only yet found one piece of literature about myself, otherwise I tend to be coupled with Hecate. It's equal parts maddening and gratifying, because I worry that without the offensive merge, well..." She drops her gaze and takes to picking at the bits of her gown. "I may turn into one of those disappearing acts."