wild blood in veins, a prior beauty. Pregnant, overblown from her perfect state. A Nymph with a swollen belly; A mother to be.
She eyed at it, the swelling, lovingly; And dreaded her child's mortality. It, a child of nymph and man.
At once, Thetis ran to the sisters of fate, They eyed the pregnant Nymph then all three sisters in unison said, "It would be fell to dead..." Her eyes widened with dread.
"When Trojan met!"
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So, with it's turbid rushing cold, struck angered Styx, gushing the mouth of her submerged screaming babe, The lids of infant eyes, open wide, Challenging, even taunting river Styx.
It,
without knowing of words, submerged,
It's first words, sounds; of range... Heard only by Ares, god of bloodlust. Dumbfounded was he, at it, at Achilles. Achilles not even an year of age.
Steven of Thetis's children went to Hades, The eighth, died a mortal, and as a God, by the ankles he was raised. Invulnerable to hurt, pain;
