Wisdom and war, is Athena. Justice and civilization, too. But Pallas, oh, Pallas she kills cowardly from behind the God of Thunder as Pallas is frozen in fear.
Athena, Athena, I tell her, this foreign mourner who weeps without tears, Athena you don't belong here. There are realms that must not be crossed. Do not reap mistake upon mistake.
I do not understand these goddesses and gods, strong and powerful, yet all too willing to succumb to their failings. Embrace this, Athena, I tell her, but the warrior-queen heeds me not and pulls me into her stoic fight.
I laugh, and fight her, and forget the boundaries. Just this once, I tell her, I'll break the rules that govern, I'll join you in their usurpation.
She looks unimpressed, grey-eyed and thin-lipped, but fights me nonetheless. I know, from her expression, that she knows some little of the retrieval of my consort and the boundaries that I crossed.
I laugh, and dodge. War and warring is an act of love as much as anything else, and I am the goddess of both.
I do not understand these frail-seeming rulers and their frail laws and the regret they sow and reap as though it, and not ambrosia, is their sustenance. But I understand love and grief and warring against rules, and I understand Athena. So I laugh and beckon and fight her and let her break between our realms.
War can be healing of great wounds, sometimes.
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a net of stars, woven
Short Story❝sing, o muse, of those who ruled on high, of women scorned and loved, and of golden crowns, and blood, and love, and war... sing, o muse, of those immortalized, golden-wreathed and ever-lauded, silver-souled and many-storied... sing, o muse, of t...
