Vesta's cult was built almost entirely around the absence of story, which makes the one narrative episode attached to her worth noticing for how little it resembles her usual worship. Ovid's Fasti places the goddess at an open-air feast of the rustic gods, asleep and unguarded among the revelers, when Priapus crept toward her meaning her harm. She was saved only by chance: a donkey tethered nearby, belonging to Silenus, brayed at the wrong moment and woke her, and Priapus fled before he could act. Ovid offers the episode as the reason a donkey was crowned with a garland of loaves and cakes at the Vestalia each year, a small piece of festival etiquette given a myth to explain it after the fact, in exactly the way Roman calendar poetry usually works. It is one of very few moments in the entire Vesta tradition where the goddess behaves as a character inside a story rather than as a fire tended without incident for a thousand years.
The wider identification carried less drama and more weight. Vesta was recognized from an early date as the Roman counterpart of the Greek Hestia, another virgin hearth goddess who, in her own tradition, held no adventures of her own and received the first and last portion of every sacrifice rather than a temple full of images. The two goddesses share a name that most philologists trace to a common root, though the exact derivation is not settled, and the parallel runs deeper than etymology: both cultures gave their hearth goddess the same unusual honor, a public flame standing for the community itself, never allowed to fail. Rome's version simply built a permanent state office, and a body of law, around a role Greek religion left more informal.