[Several months before the events of Generation S – Issue #001
Somewhere on Mount Olympus…]
The goddess Athena stood, as she had for nearly half of the sun’s path; watching, waiting to be acknowledged. Wavering uncertainty had kept her in place this long, but she had begun to believe this particular war was not one she could win. It seemed that her opponent was not merely ignoring her in some effort to incite her ire- the girl, she had come with some resignation to conclude, had simply failed to notice her presence at all.
She had allowed her aspects to become dangerously unbalanced. In reaction to the venomous wound inflicted in retaliation for her brutal control over serpentine intellect, she had fled too deeply into the easy, feral familiarity of feline chaos.
Though she could have recited Kendall Henry’s quotation back to her with ease, her left hand rose to the device strapped to the arm now bound tight to her chest. Illumination erupted from its embedded screen the instant her fingertips brushed over it, and a few rapid twitches and taps brought the full text the dark-skinned girl had referenced to the main display.
‘If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. If I give away all I have, and if I deliver up my body to be burned, but have not love, I gain nothing. Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful.’
….Decrypted from the private files of Wraxian’s phone/computer-y gadget….
…. Revision 1.17….
She hadn’t gone far. The forest and its denizens would have welcomed her, as they always did, but now something different had taken hold of her attentions.
Moonlight glittered and shone off of the surface of the massive pool, providing pristine reflections of the odd, awkward girl perched at its precipice. Bent so far forward that it seemed the slightest breeze should have sent her tumbling forward into the depths, hard cut amethysts stared back at her, providing none of the answers she sought.
They were so certain. How many times had she stared at that same image, at all of them, searching for the key that would properly fit? A breath she had not realized she’d been holding sent ripples shimmering over the water, dazzling her vision for a few brief moments.
(All speech is translated from respective regional dialects.)
((Mature Content Warning: The following post is rated Mature [NC-17] for Sexual Content))
437 B.C.E., Early Spring
The great patron of Athens strolled amongst her citizens unknown, invisible to all while she basked in the warmth of the Grecian sun, surveying the laborers who worked their craft upon the nearly finished temple to her honor. It soared above her, finely wrought columns reaching for the heavens; built upon the highest section of the city, the prayers that would be given there, that much closer to her ears. Allowing her eyelids to slide heavily over the vast grey depths of her eyes, she focused upon and listened solely to the Delphinic voice that had been whispering through her mind since her audience with the oracle that morning.