The Fates

Clotho gripped Atropos' hand tightly, slender fingers wrapped tightly around slightly larger ones of the same shape.

It was time. She had been the Maiden from very early on; the Spinner from not too long after. But now it was time to be Fate.

Mum had released the Knowing to her slowest. Atropos had taken to it like water - beautiful Atropos, with long red tresses and shrewd violet eyes. Atropos was certainly the most beautiful of the three sisters, and the most difficult to know.

Clotho understood Atropos' part of the Work, and Cloey loved Attie. She Who Could Not Be Turned was sharp, of course, cunning and crafty. But Attie was Attie, and when Nyx had said that it was time for Clotho to meet the Keres, Atropos had insisted on being the one to introduce them.

Clotho tightened her hold on her sister's hand.

*

Atropos had always known the Keres. Atropos had always Known. She'd had to wait for Cloey to start spinning and Khesis to start measuring before she could start severing, but she'd been apt at destruction from early on.

Atropos insisted on having her own way. She resisted her parents' notion that it was important that the Moirae have proper youths - well she knew her own Fate to be a Crone, and she embraced it wholeheartedly. She saw no reason why they couldn't begin the work as they were - except, of course, for the fact that it simply wasn't meant to be that way.

Lachesis needed to be the big sister of little Cloey, just as she'd needed to be the younger sister of Atropos. Cloey had needed to be the baby, although Atropos couldn't help but think she hadn't needed it for as long as she'd had it. All the time Clotho had spent as a small child was making this bit more difficult. Now, barely a teenager, Clotho feared the Keres. The Keres, who were bound to carry out the work of Fate.

Atropos shook her head, and squeezed Cloey's hand back.

*

Clotho knew about the Dark Side, of course.

Attie was that. She was dark in a lot of ways, but she wasn't frightening. She was simply Attie. She was different; not all full of passion and burning energy and enthusiastic curiosity, like Cloey. She wasn't lustful or restrained like Khesis. Attie was accepting and hard and sometimes cold, but really smart. But she had dark in her, but it was kind of like Daddy Dark in some ways. She Could Not Be Turned. Mum said she got that from Da, and then grinned.

Clotho knew that Da and some of her siblings could be violent. She knew it was their nature. Cloey wasn't violent - she wasn't sure she could be - but she understood and accepted it, and even appreciated it in the abstract way. (Though she knew she would never like the gooey bits and the bloody chunks and the shards of bone that were often left behind.)

Attie could be violent, and sometimes was. But not like the Keres.

Mummy had kept them apart. It was strange, because the Keres were a part of them, as much as Moros was a part of them, though not as much as they were parts of each other.

They were the Endings. They were as violent as Than was gentle; as cruel as Than was kind; as ugly as Than was lovely. Than was Death that Clotho understood and adored. Than was the start of something new in his way, and made it easier and more peaceful and beautiful.

The Keres didn't make anything more beautiful.

The Keres tore things apart, shredded with claws and teeth, feasted on blood and flesh and sinew and bone, and screamed in ecstasy at the agony of their prey.

She looked at Atropos.


*


Atropos looked back at Clotho and paused, remembering the Girl's thoughts even as they happened.

"Go on. Ask." Atropos' tone was patient, but not indulgent.

"I... do we have to?" Clotho squeezed her hand, and now, Atropos released the Maiden's, taking a cigarette out of the air.

"Yes." There were no jibes, no derision. Simple.

"But... that's not my part. It's your part. I don't need to know them."

Atropos shook her head even before Clotho had finished her sentence.

"You know better than that." She took a drag, the cigarette igniting as she did so.

Clotho took a shaky breath, but didn't respond.

The transition of their surroundings was neither dramatic nor gradual. One moment, they were in the Underworld. The next, on a battlefield, in the Darkness of Night, steam still rising from the corpse in front of them. The face was half gone, smashed with something meant to be blunt that had found some ragged edges. The crushed cheekbone was concave. The severing, however, had happened not when the sword had sliced up through the abdomen and between the ribs, but when the innards had begun to be torn out.

Some warriors got a little perverse from time to time.

Clotho covered her mouth, but Atropos would not allow her eyes to close.

"We're Fate, Klotho," Atropos explained patiently. "This is a part of the Work. Do you know why?"

"Because without Destruction, we'd run out of room for Creation?" she asked weakly.

"No," Atropos replied, exhaling a stream of silvery smoke. "Because you're not just Creation. This is going to be a problem for you for a long time, not getting that. But right now, you're not allowed to pretend. Later, when we work differently, when we're older, you can pretend. But this is Us. The Keres bring Our Work to fruition. You are Fate, one of the Moirae, the Three Who Are One. And you won't forget it. Not yet."

Clotho looked at the body for a long time, and she couldn't help the tears that started sliding down her cheeks, though she tried to dash them away with the backs of her hands. Life shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't end like this. This pain, this agony. He hadn't even been Bad - he was fighting for his home, for his family -

Atropos' voice cut into her thoughts, though it might have been a bit gentler than usual.

"It doesn't work that way, little Sister. You know that. All things must end, but not all things must end well."

*

The Keres were watching now. Silent, hidden, curious. They respected the Little One. Without her, they could not exist. Without her, there would be no Work for them. Without her, no blood to spill nor spines to crush nor bodies to plague with wasting disease nor beautiful, beautiful havoc to wreak.

Her rejection did not surprise them, nor did it disappoint. Well they knew that she was compelled to continue.

It couldn't help but make them smile awfully.

*

Clotho looked back at Atropos, still wiping at her cheeks, which wouldn't stay dry. She felt them, she felt them watching, and she instinctively moved closer to Atropos.

"His wife. His little son - he just started walking. He's really very cute, with chubby legs and a tinkling little laugh..."

Atropos took another drag of her cigarette instead of sighing.

"Klotho."

"I don't want this!" Cloey burst out suddenly. "I don't want this, not this, not this part! I don't want the killing and the hurting and the bleeding and cutting and the pain! I don't want it! I didn't ask for it, it's not me! It's not me!"

She was really crying now, and she turned to face them, those awful sister-selves, and Clotho shook her head.

"I don't. Want it."

She paused.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

With that, she disappeared, leaving Atropos alone with the Keres. The Crone took another drag of her cigarette.

Voices like the last shriek of pain asked, "Will she learn?"

Atropos shook her head, exhaling smoke.

"She doesn't need to. She already knows."

There's not a whole lot to say.

I haven't got many excuses to be angsty, or depressed, or to feel sorry for myself, or anything like that, to be honest. I'm a goddess, I'm rather cute, I have a really nice place to live, a fantastic family that I love very much and that loves me, and work that fulfills me. I was born knowing my life's passion, and it's never disappointed me - not really.

I don't like to complain. Again, I haven't much to complain about. I never used to want to complain. Back before my sisters and I began hanging about Olympus again, when we were still sort of locked away from the world - fairly recently, really - I never really wanted to complain. I obediently avoided the other gods, and though I would go out into the mortal world often enough, no one ever knew I was a goddess, and it kept things simple. I've never fallen in love with a mortal. I've kissed a lot of mortals. I've been friends with them, and smoked hash with them, and dropped acid, and danced with them, and lots of other things.

But it's weird.

I've just never felt that spark with a mortal.

I never wondered much about it. I just thought it was my nature - too young to fall in love, and content to be so.

Of course, I didn't know that I'd already fallen in love, was still in love, even, and had been since I was far, far younger than I am now.

Phobos made everything different.

He awakened something in me that I didn't know was there. All these feelings, it was madness! More addicting than Chaos, my emotions more raw. It was sweet, it was safe, and I know now that it was too safe for him. It's strange, the emptiness he left behind when he pierced me with that arrow. It hurts, it still hurts, but in a way entirely different than a broken love. It hurts to have been rejected. It hurts to know that Styxie is more than me - and I know she is. It hurts to not have been enough.

No matter what he ever says, I'll always know how it really was.

It's strange how I still want to help him, but I don't want to see him. Sometimes even thinking of him just makes me know how not-enough I really am.

I'm just a girl. I know that. All I'll ever be is this girl-woman thing, and really, no man really wants that. I know about men, even though I'm not so experienced. After all, I've been around for a rather long time, and I watch people - gods, men, other creatures. Gods and men usually don't want girls. It's almost a rule.

Ok, let me qualify that.

They want girls - for a moment. They want to renew their own innocence, or make themselves feel better, or just on the most basic level, get into a girl's knickers to prove that they still can, or because they like the way our skin feels, or whatever.

But gods and men? They don't want to stay with girls.

Generally speaking.


Anteros might have. But I bollocksed that up well and good.

Anteros is... oh Creation.

Anteros.

Can I even write this here? Do I have the courage to write it here? My head is clear, the Chaos is out, for the moment. Can I even stand to look at the truth?

The remembering has been piecemeal. Bit by bit, things come back - details. The smell of his hair. The taste of his kiss. The first time we - either of us - made love.

And only recently, just recently, in the midst of the Chaos, did I remember what happened. I remembered, because it was mixed up with the trouble that could have been with Mum and Daddy. I remembered when I realized for the first time that Mummy and Daddy were going to be apart - that she was going to... that he would...

That things would be Bad.

I remembered how scared I was, I remember how much it hurt, I remember not understanding, and looking at An, and seeing all the possibilities of how we could go bad, too.

And he was right - I let them take him from me.

I did.

Khesis and 'Pos were worried about me and my Maiden stuff. Things were different back then. Everyone still went by the Old Ways, and even though things would eventually change, the world was so young yet... none of us were probably as good at reading patterns as we are now, even Attie.

So when I saw that Mummy and Da were... I let them do it.

Oh, Creation, the nightmares I had. I never told anyone, but Khesis and Attie knew. I never talked about it though. Never acknowledged it. I stopped sleeping for a long, long time. I still don't like to, not that much. I love Morph, and Ike, but I would wake up and my bedsheets would be torn apart, my bed broken sometimes, always in tears, and I wouldn't know why. I just wouldn't know why.

Sometimes I remember the dreams now - it was always An. An in tears, An in pain, An twisted and wounded and broken by what I'd done to him. An bathed in blood, An a different creature entirely from the one I knew.

But still the same. Always the same.

Weird, right?

Maybe I cursed myself, by turning away from love so long ago. By hurting him that way. Maybe I just wasn't meant for love. I know that Khesis was and is - she just ran away from it because of me. I know that now, too. It's my fault she was so lonely for so long - it's my fault that she's so sad now. I know that there's still hope for her in the future, but I don't know how to make her see that. She's so funny - she sees so much, but when it comes to herself, she's so blind. About so many things.

:sigh:

Creation.

And Attie? Attie was love, but turned away from that too, long before I did. Attie feels love, Attie knows the power of love, but Attie works separately from it, and likes it better that way.

But it's still a part of her, you know?

For me, I think love will aways be this fleeting thing. This thing that I'll chase after, but that will never stay with me.

It hurts sometimes. It makes my stomach hurt and my eyes puff and I hate it sometimes.

Because I still feel love. For him. But that's not even the point.

I suppose after all that time of not remembering and being content not knowing, and now, remembering how happy it made me when I had it, I just wish I could have it one way or the other. Either that someone would love me, really love me, forever kind of love me - or that I could just forget. Forget forever, and never remember again, so that it would never feel like this again.

I suppose that's why I like the Chaos so much. It jumbles everything - makes me forget the past, forget the future - and everything is just energy and life and crackling sparks of the Universe. There's no pain - not for more than a moment - no hurt, no fear. No feeling like I'm unlovable.

Isn't that funny? A goddess who's unlovable?

I suppose it is.

Lachesis was seething.

Klotho hadn’t stopped crying for days. Considerately, she had taken to sitting in the gardens, which had become overgrown with stargazer lilies and night orchids where her tears soaked the earth, out of earshot and out of view. Of course, both Lachesis and Atropos knew that she was crying, but the Maiden was inconsolable. Something was so utterly wrong in the Universe for this to have happened. Never before had Klotho so adamantly ignored all the signs, never before had she so blindly clung to the whisper thin possibilities of other eventualities even as they’d dissipated into smoke with every passing moment. When it finally happened, she had felt like she was suffocating, she had felt Mummy’s fear and Daddy’s rage and Aither’s pain and even Krios’ gurgling. Mummy and Daddy were made for each other – they were perfectly perfect, they had been meant to be. How could this be happening? How could she, Klotho, the Spinner of Fates, have allowed this to happen? She knew that it was her fault, she knew that she should have paid closer attention and done something - anything - to stop this. The ragged, wretched sobs had torn into her chest; her throat had been raw to the point of bleeding, until finally her larynx just wouldn’t produce the sounds anymore. After a while, the exhausted Spinner took to simply hiding among the plants with tears silently pouring down her face.

And Lachesis was seething.

Atropos was disgusted. The Crone had always had respect for her parents, even if she had become somewhat uncomfortable with actually having parents. But Atropos’ connections with other beings as far as personal relationships were concerned were, for the most part, tenuous at best, because no one knew better than she that everything ended. No use in getting too attached. It was certain that she hated, felt rivalry, even affection and love – but the whole idea of marriage was one that she had already deemed rather stupid. Night and Darkness had fallen prey to the Stupidity of All Beings with their stubbornness and insecurities and lack of communication, and they deserved what they got. What did she care if they were idiots? What did she care if they had proven Atropos’ secret, niggling thought that maybe love and marriage weren’t so completely stupid so utterly wrong? She didn’t care. Sucks to their marriage, anyway. Sucks to all these fools. The shears were the only truly reliable thing – the shears, and Doom, and the fact that that heifer Tyche liked to play with her emotions from time to time.

But Lachesis was seething.

She’d stayed in front of the loom, the only one of them who had, nimble fingers working the threads more quickly and efficiently than ever. Her anger at Nyx was boundless, and her knowledge that it was most likely to happen again, and again, did not help the situation. The betrayal of father had been enough, and it had been a long time coming – it had been written before Lachesis had even had full grasp of her powers, possibly before Lachesis had been born. Lachesis had never had the best relationship with her mother for more reasons than one – but that initial inkling, and then the full-on knowledge, had never helped Lachesis’ view of her mother, no matter how well she knew the whys of the situation. Which she did. But now that Nyx had actually done this – she had touched this other god, she had broken Da and rebuilt him as that monster…

Lachesis had been there… Nyx had not seen her, Da had not seen her, even Aither may not have seen her, before he’d made them all leave, but she had been there. She had felt Da’s power, and the entire scene had been horrifying and heartbreaking. Klotho had still been hysterical at that point; Atropos was pretending indifference, her shears down, knowing the outcome perhaps sooner than anyone else had. But Lachesis had gone. And the feeling, that feeling of Da – the void that was there – it was…

Nyx had done that.

But it was Aither – good, loyal, protective Aither – whose suffering angered her the most. Da and Nyx’s relationship was their own – the course of it didn’t please Lachesis, but they were adults, they were her Parents, and she would respect that much. But Aither – Da had almost killed him, and perhaps Aither had almost killed Da, and never in all her time at the loom had she so much wanted to manipulate those strings so dramatically, to pull them apart until the physical manifestations of her father and brother would be forced into separate corners by the sheer force of will of Fate.

But she had not. No, she had not.

And now Aither was taking care of Da. Poor, heartbroken Aither was tending to devastated, shattered Da, and it killed Lachesis to see it, to see what Nyx had wrought.

And because of it, she was seething.

But Aither needed someone to take care of him, as well. Hemera was predictably absent and silent while Aither had been deeply drained by the confrontation with Da, and his betrayal by Nyx. Lachesis did usually not step out from behind the Loom. She had made a commitment long ago to remain there, to ensure that there was some level of impartiality in the development of events, in the Work. It was a rare thing indeed for her to emerge, a rarer one still for her to do so for the sake of personal relationships. She was not without affection for her siblings, but the Work had to supersede those attachments.

But Aither.

Aither was the First, her eldest brother, and perhaps the only one of her siblings beside Klotho and Atropos with whom she felt completely comfortable at this juncture. She had always admired him so much, and he had always been the one she had gone to when her fights with Moros or Nyx had escalated to the point where she truly thought her head would explode. When she’d believed that Moros had thrown the slinky that Da had given her into Styx’s waters, after delivering Klotho back to their parents and relating the story to Da, it had been to Aither that she had finally, ashamedly cried. Aither had always been there for her, in whatever capacity she’d needed, and now… and now…

Lachesis had grown not only into the Measurer, the Weaver, but into the Mother. Nurturing was a part of her that remained subdued by simple nature of the fact that she didn’t interact with that many people for it to be readily visible to most. However, it was there, and it was an integral element of her being. When Aither had finally left Da’s side, Lachesis knew it wouldn’t be for long. She knew that her brother would refresh as he could, and go back to watch over Da.

So she called to him.

She ascended from the Underworld, appearing in Aither’s realm at first as a gentle flow of white energy which then shifted into her physical form. She hovered in her brother’s essence, and despite the traditional formality of her appearance, her curls bound loosely back, clad in a white chiton, she spoke to him as a sister and a friend.

“Aither,” she said gently. “Come to me.”

Lachesis was on a beach, working with the loom. Her sisters were at extremes, which was bothering her less than it normally would at the moment... actually, it wasn't bothering her at all. Nonetheless, when she'd gone back to the temple, neither of them were there. Atropos was down on earth - she was in pursuit of the Keres, and it was likely she could run into their Other Sisters, the Dirae, in that endeavor. Clotho, on the other hand, was of course, in a mad chaotic fit, and her whereabouts changed from moment to moment.

Lachesis found herself missing them a bit, actually.

Nonetheless, there was a great deal going on, and though she couldn't bring herself to the Temple for work, she did want to look at the loom and immerse herself in it. The spinning wheel whirred merrily and madly, with brightly, sometimes mult-colored threads emerged from it, zipping between herfingers for measurement. The shears were pure, matte black at the moment, and were snipping methodically in just the right place.

Khesis eyed the loom, and shook her head. So, Zeus had made it back... this complicated things in an interesting way. Hebe was injured? The Measurer frowned slightly. Also... Styx... and Anteros?

Her breath caught in her throat as soon as that knowledge came to her. Turning away on her seat, she waved her hand, and all the materials disappeared. She stood and the stool on which she'd been sitting also vanished.

This was a bit much.

The emotion was still overwhelming. Her time with Styx had certainly improved things but...

Perhaps she should get involved with something. Perhaps this war, perhaps some petty thing. Something interesting. Something other than herself.

She began walking down the beach without any particular expectation of where she'd end up.

And now is the time on Sprockets when we dance.

:CroneRobot:

This message was brought to you by a barely sane mun.

Heart's Desire: Think about something you once wanted so badly but never acquired. Write about how you think your life would've been different if you had received what your heart desired.

Clotho:
(too oblivious to lock)

I'm really the only one of us who can answer this. 'Khesis wanted An for so, so long, but she got him. And I guess it was only a matter of time, and maybe we all sort of knew it was possible, even probable, so even though it was torture for her, all that time, she had the pot of gold at the end of her rainbow.

But 'Khesis' regrets are my regrets - just like she waited so very long for An, everything she's never had, she's never had because I didn't, first. Same with Attie. The story of "can't have" is mine, because Attie's past wanting things, and Khesis has almost everything she wants. And she'll get everything eventually, most likely. But me?

I'm the happy one. I really am. I love life - I think it's really amazing and beautiful, and there are so many fun things to do and see and be a part of. What's really cool about being my part of me is that everything is always new to me, even if it's sometimes in the scary way. I live for change, and growth, and movement and bursts.

It's not so bad.

The part that isn't so lovely, though, the part that isn't so good, is that I'm not really enough on my own. Atropos has seen it all, and done it all. Lachesis gets to enjoy fruition and the best parts of everything. But me?

I don't know. You know what's funny? Atropos and Khesis and I have the same thread. Even now, when we're more separated than we've ever been before - we all have the same one. So Fate, Aisa, can be happy. There's possibility everywhere for it. Khesis might get married, and then we'll be with someone forever, probably, and that's lovely.

But I won't get to know that part. I'll always be just on the edge. The most I'll ever get is being just on the cusp of knowing what it's like, really knowing what it's like, to be fully loved. I've been loved. Anteros used to love me; Phobos still loves me, I guess, but that's weird, because he didn't even really want to, I don't think. Me being Fate ruined things with An and ever since I remembered, I miss him. Weird., and it ruined things with Spook, too. But things don't get ruined for Khesis. And 'Pos doesn't care anymore. She's beyond it.

But me?

I'm always, always wanting.

And never, never having.

But... but but.

If I had my heart's desire, I wouldn't be me, right? How can you be young without understanding what it's like to always be on your tiptoes, looking through the window of the party you're not old enough to go to; without wishing you could play with the big kids; without being jealous of your older sister and having a crush on her boyfriend?

I think that maybe I just wasn't meant for that stuff. I hurt every boy I love who loves me. Badly. Because of what I am.

So there you go. Almost limitless knowledge; totally limited existence.

It's not so bad though. I always know where the best parties are.

:wry smile:

Lachesis and Anteros appeared in her bedchamber still in the same tight embrace they had been in at her mother's party. Gently, she disengaged, leading him to her bed, where she encouraged him to lie down, and she joined him.

"Talk to me, love," she said softly.

Your Sexual Profile (you sexual deviant you...) by sparkledee
Name
Your Secret Kink Thing	You spank with a wooden spoon
Your Sexual Strength	You can last forever!
Your Sexual Weakness	You masturbate too much.
Your Likely STD	You're clean!
How Many Partners in Crime?	3 or so. Who keeps count?
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Your Sexual Profile (you sexual deviant you...) by sparkledee
Name
Your Secret Kink Thing	A thing for nipple clamps.
Your Sexual Strength	How hot you look in lingerie.
Your Sexual Weakness	You masturbate too much.
Your Likely STD	You won't get tested. SLUT!!
How Many Partners in Crime?	None. haha. Poor you.
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Your Sexual Profile (you sexual deviant you...) by sparkledee
Name
Your Secret Kink Thing	Hotwax in uncomfortableplaces
Your Sexual Strength	You are amazing at oral sex!
Your Sexual Weakness	Your gross faces during sex.
Your Likely STD	You're clean!
How Many Partners in Crime?	2
Quiz created with MemeGen!

Clotho:

"Um... devour me?"

Lachesis:
"Hmm."

Atropos:


"Don't hate the playa. Hate the game."

Fate was an entity unto herself, and though she split herself into Three Ladies, this did not change the fact that they comprised a larger figure; one that perhaps had less need of certain interactions and experiences than others. Fate as a whole was a complete entity, but Life was not experienced in one unswallowable spoonful.

Nonetheless, though Fate existed in Three Ladies, those Ladies were permanently and possibly irrevocably connected. This connection existed separately from time, from space, and from the outside world, and it was here, even as the three of them carried on other activities and conversations, that they finally got down to the business of discussion.

They set themselves up at their temple; not the temple on Olympus, nor the one they had in the Underworld, nor the one that had existed on earth so long ago, when they had been so much more accessible to men. This temple was their true temple, where they always lived, no matter where they meant. There, Klotho, Lakhesis, and Atropos met for a discussion.

OOC: These may be a little long or a little short - my apologies - the muses are in charge and I have no word count ability on this machine.

( Week of January 7 - Opposites )

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( January 14 - Meeemorieees... )

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( January 21 - Lord I was born a ramblin' archetype... )

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( January 28 - Happily Ever After. )

The Moirae/The Fates
Greek Mythology
Lots of words