AMBROSIA

THETA

"Thank you for coming on such a short notice," Eros turned his head to look death straight in its face.

The face of death was ever so gentle, poetic, just as Eros remembered and in the past it had seemed to many, that Thanatos, god of Death, was his antithetical. For Eros, however, it just felt like staring in the mirror, Thanatos was his epitomized image with a dichotomy.

Thanatos eyes had an amber glow contrasting with his own cerulean blue, today they appeared diverging in orange flecks and mingling with the white at the edges, emulating the glorious sun mixing with white clouds. Thanatos was in a happy mood for he had also seen those ambers burn red before being darkened with black clouds. His stature was just as Eros always remembered, he was the inevitable and he carried himself like that, there was a richness to his ebony skin, a congenial vibe, a comforting notion, making Eros long for his touch.

They have always been together since the beginning of time, like two sides of a coin, together, and obverse at different stages of a person's life.

"How long has it been?" Thanatos inquired assiduously.

Eros heard the worry in his voice, but did not let it realize, Thanatos was approaching him cautiously and he let him.

Eros brought his attention back to his untouched mortal drink, he was still somber from his last intoxication and choose a safer option while struggling to not lust over the array of Diosoynos wines in front of him in the dimly lit private bar.

"How does it matter," Eros spoke after a pregnant pause, "the wheels turn on their own now, our concept of time ended with Kronos,"

It wasn't completely true though, Eros felt each and every cycle longer than the previous. It was weird speaking the name after all this time, Kronos, their grandfather, the mighty Titan and God of time, was long gone.

Eros often had dreams about him, which he never shared with anyone, he saw himself doing the most routine things with his grandfather, sharing an unalloyed bond. He usually saw Kronos play with his younger self, bath him, clip his wings, and nurse him at times. In some dreams Eros found himself being carried by Kronos on his shoulders as he fought battles against the other Titans.

But those were just dreams, in his long list of eerie dreams to which even Morpheus, the astute god of Dreams, had no explanation. Eros never saw his grandfather and probably would never see him, even if he passed the gates of Hades. Kronos was locked in Tarantus by Zeus, the hell reserved for the foulest and ugliest of all.

Eros wondered if he too ended up in Tarantus, surely he hadn't been what they would call a righteous God, he was no Apollo, he had caused more harm from love than anything good.

Thanatos made a swift action which distracted his train of thought, he had dug his arm under the black coat and had retrieved something, with his fingers closed over it.

"This is the last of Kronos, the finest adamantine, his mother, our great-grandmother, Gaia, had forged for him."

Thanatos opened his fingers and on his palm laid a shiny pygmy Scythe, which once belonged to the mighty Titan, the God of the Universe.

The sight suddenly gave Eros a revolting feeling in his stomach.

Will it be the same with his arrows, once he was gone?

Will it be his only reminiscence, laying in someone's palm, drawn on the mention of his name?

Eros was suddenly very aware of the arrows in his pocket, which were now invigorating against his skin. They were his identity, his appurtenance, he couldn't have left them on his last day. And before this moment he never had a thought that he will ever be parting with them.