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You know the song Words of the Wise by Truslow, don't you?
--
The Sailor
The night is cool, with an ocean breeze that rushes toward the dock and welcomes Zurven with a sweet, salty kiss. As far back as he remembers, the sea has always been a welcome escape. It carried his fears away on billowing waves, where they disappeared into a distant horizon, and he was allowed respite from his vanilla scented tomb. Even just for a second. That was the single perk to his time with Persep, a thought he will take to his grave whispers, access to Areios’s cliffside hive.
Before he has much time to think on and be upset by it, the dock creaks under the weight of someone walking behind him and he turns to meet their gaze.
A troll that was at the same time familiar and entirely new to him fills his field of view. His hair was much shorter when he disappeared, cut tight in order to maintain a proper appearance just like any other pretentious violet blood might have it. Today, it casts down past his shoulders, in waves that resemble the ones he spends his nights navigating.
Shock overtakes the seadwellers features, but it is quickly replaced by a smile that accentuates the scars that pepper his face.
That’s another change, imperfections decorate the violet blood in a map that tells the story of where he has been. Of who he is now. A fractured horn and torn ear and fin. This is not the Velrum that disappeared all of those sweeps ago.
Zurven should be surprised, but he knew what to expect. Harlan’s intervention made sure of it.
Velrum waves a three fingered hand as he comes closer, and he tries not to let his stare linger. But the gold band around the middle digit draws the eye with the way the twin moons shine off of it. The seadweller does not seem bothered.
“Zurven, is that you?” Even his voice doesn’t ring with the same uptight, strictness that it did in the past. Instead, it seems light. Free of burden. He comes to sit and lets one of his legs dangle over the sea below.
Though neither of their feet touch the water, Zurven cannot help but notice how much further his own is away from it.
“Wow, how long has it been?”
The smaller troll makes like he is looking at a watch that isn’t there and shrugs.
Velrum laughs.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m glad to see you..” He pauses to get a good look at him. “Out. Away from all of that.”
The sailor sounds unsure as he speaks, each of the six words enunciated slowly. Worry almost creases his brow.
A quick nod assuages his fear and he lets out a quick sigh.
“Good. It was a fucked up situation.”
“No kidding.” Zurven sighs. “How did you do it?”
“Hm?”
“Move on from everything.”
Velrum seems taken aback by the question. Anyone who knows anything about Zurven would guess that he would sooner swallow his tongue than choose to speak about this for longer than necessary. Even someone who hasn’t seen the brown blood since he was six sweeps old.
The seadweller runs a hand through his hair, knocking it so it cascades down along his back instead of over his shoulder. It frames his face in a way that makes him look much older than he is.
“Zurven,” he starts, moving to take one of his hands between both of his. The metal of his jewelry feels cool against the smaller troll’s skin. “Time is a weird thing.”
Zurven's laugh is breathless.
“Tell me about it.”
The response he receives is a squeeze, one designed to keep him grounded.
“Time and space are a wonderful tool. They will not heal all of your wounds. They can only provide you with the chance to come to terms with them.”
“That’s what people say. All the time, it’s what they say.”
“It’s hard as hell, Zurv.”
“Doable?”
“I didn’t say impossible, kid.”
Zurven swallows his uncertainty, not really sure what he was expecting to hear in the first place.
The Soldier
Koteus is much easier to track down, despite the claims that he is all but a hermit now. The seadweller lived in the same hive, surrounded by dense forest and an expansive lake from the time he was discharged from the fleet. What is surprising, however, is the sprawling garden that hugs around a considerable length of the hive, and the lively sheet moss that grows up the wall that the hive shares with the garden.
It is a sight to behold.
Certainly not one anyone would expect a so-called shut in to keep up with. Zurven sucks in a deep breath, admiring the warmth of the garden as it brings him to life.
“Hey kid, y’lost or somethin’?” Calls out a yellow blood from the front door, he waves a robotic hand in the air to get his attention.
The brown blood blinks back at him, kicking himself internally for neglecting to account for hivemates when setting out for this trip.
“I’m just here to see Koteus.” He finally says, when the silence blankets them the same way the moss did the residence. “It’s been a while.”
“‘Course you are,” The stranger starts, then pauses to look at a display on his arm. Finally, he motions for him to follow him as he moves back into the hive. “C’mon.”
Zurven nods and toddles along after him.
The yellow blood leads him through a front room and a living room first, where he takes in all the sights the home has to offer. The most important thing he could note was that there were family pictures littered throughout the two rooms. All sorts of faces smiled back at him, with each other, as the pair made their way into a kitchen much larger than he would know what to do with.
“Little man!” A familiar voice calls out and draws his attention to an island at its center.
Standing there beside it is Koteus, a bright smile on his face and a curtain of dreads that threaten to kiss the floor despite much of it being tied up into a bun. The tattoo on his face obscures much of his expression, but it is easy to tell he is happy.
“Little is right.” The cyborg emphasizes as he exits the way they entered.
Zurven can’t find it in him to be offended by the sentiment, he is easily the shortest person in the room. Aside from the very small human that sits on the counter, handing Koteus bowls of varying sizes with great enthusiasm.
She uses a free hand to wave at him.
“Jessie, Zurven. Zurven, Jessie.”
“Hi!” Jessie beams, pointing at Zurven and then her own chest. “Your sign?”
“Horologium.” He says pulling the hoodie he’d stolen from his partner tighter around his shoulders, suddenly incredibly self conscious. “It’s a clock.”
“Har-go-lum!” Jessie shouts as she clasps her hands together before getting back to her very serious job of handing the violet blood her bowls.
“Hawr-uh-lo-jee-um.” He says, slowly this time.
She nods with vigor and goes on to mouth the word Horologium to herself, going through the motions of learning a new difficult word.
He is momentarily taken back to a time when the name of his own sign was foreign to him. Five sweeps old when he learned what to call it, how to pronounce it. Thuein and Lopard were patient, but the pity they felt reigned in their eyes.
A human will learn how to say it better before she hits three sweeps.
Dwelling doesn’t last long, Koteus’s voice fills the room again and brings him back from his thoughts.
“Had I known you wanted to meet, I could have met you somewhere more convenient.” His voice is apologetic. “Middle of nowhere is a little out of the way, yeah?”
“I think I needed the trip.” He admits.
“Clear skies’ll cure a cluttered mind like nothing else.” The seadweller says as he lifts the young human off of the counter and sets her on her feet. “Something on your mind?”
“I think so. If you have time.”
Koteus watches as Jessie quickly finds her way to the entrance of the kitchen and disappears further into the hive. He smiles.
“A spot just opened up.”
Despite his time in the fleet, Koteus’s scars are not physical ones. The only markings on his skin are the tattoos he received from the planet he was stationed on. But the scars on his heart, Zurven thinks, must be innumerable. Impossible to count. Heavy.
He leads Zurven to the table and they sit across from each other.
Koteus looks wiser than he would ever care to admit. Always said wisdom means you’re old.
“Lay it on me, little man.”
“You’ve uh. You’ve been through a lot, right?”
“Nothing I didn’t sign up for.” He sighs. “But yeah.”
“Doesn’t it weigh a ton? How do you–”
“Carry it all?” He interjects, voice soft.
Zurven nods slowly.
The soldier leans forward, causing the beads clinging to his dreads to knock against the table between them.
“Not all at once, and never on my own.” He whispers, and the safety of Benjins hoodie starts to feel more real.
The Magician
There is a market in the city, filled with fresh produce from the grounds of the House of Restoration and other goods ferried from parts of Alternia the typical city dweller would never find the time to visit.
Zurven stands among the produce, fighting hard to remember the instructions given to him by Achina on how to pick out the perfect avocado. He is fairly certain the one in his hand is hard enough to give someone a concussion.
“Nah, brother. You try ‘n eat somethin’ that unripe it’ll knock your teeth right outta your skull.”
Zurvens gaze drifts from the rock in his hand to the observer he must have been preventing from getting one of his own.
“Think ya’ gotta put it in a paper bag to make it ripe faster or somethin’. Unless you’re tryin’a--“
The purple blood stops cold as they lock eyes, the recognition on either side is instantaneous. The swirly face paint that starts at the tip of his nose and spirals outward takes Zurven back to a place he doesn’t want to be and he gives the avocado a harsh squeeze. Hard as a baseball, it does not yield to his attempted mutilation.
“Shit! Little fuckin’, Curly top? Zurven? Damn! You grown up, huh?” The clown sputters out clumsily, measuring Zurven up with his hand as he does.
“Didn’t see you none once the. Well, y’know.” He says as he mimes a hand over his left eye, mimicking the trauma Persep subjected his illusionist friend to. “And you’re all out and about and shit, huh?”
“It’s nice to see you too, Parcae.” Zurven mumbles, resisting the urge that threatens to pull his thoughts back to the past. “You’re always so peppy, despite everything. That’s a real wonder to me-- “
The brown blood is cut off by the magician as he scoops him up into his arms and crushes him close against his chest.
Zurven goes stiff.
“Nah, we ain’t talkin’ about me. We’re talking about you!” He does not seem to care that the display is causing his suit jacket to wrinkle. Not that that really comes as a surprise. “Been thinkin’ about you, brother. Always wanted to scoop y’up like that and let ya know how you were always stronger than you shoulda had to be and shit.”
He says nothing.
“Y’know? I’m thinkin’ you’re one a the strongest guys I ever met. I’m thinkin’ you could survive anything, brother.”
Like the avocado in his hand will in a few days, Zurven softens. He wraps his arms around Parcae and breathes out a shaky sight as his tears start to stain the collar of his dress shirt.
Continuando nossa série de posts descrevendo características e culto dos amados Imortais, seguimos adiante com um trio de divindades honoráveis e importantíssimas: As Moiras - Ou seja, Láquesis, Cloto e Atropos, as Deusas do destino.
Por vezes descritas como filhas de Zeus, o Rei dos Deuses e Têmis, Deusa das leis divinas, outrora descritas como filhas de Nix, a Noite, as poderosas Moiras regem o destino de cada criatura, assinalando suas porções dos devidos fios da vida de cada um. Representadas como três mulheres maduras portando instrumentos de fiandeira, as Deusas usam seu tear e decidem quanto cada mortal há de viver.
É dito que os desígnios das Moiras são inescapáveis, mas que elas não interferem diretamente nas escolhas tomadas no caminho dos mortais. Sendo Deusas ligadas ao nascimento e a morte de todos os seres vivos, as Moiras contavam com a companhia de Ilítia, a Deusa do nascimento e as Eumênides, Deusas da punição.
Os mitos que narram o destino inescapável de muitos heróis, como Orestes e Agamemnôn, descrevem a influência das Moiras em suas desventuras. Outros mitos descrevem como as Deusas do destino prolongaram ou restauraram a vida daqueles que tiveram sua vida roubada, como o príncipe Pélops ou o rei Admeto, por influência de outros Deuses que os amavam (Poseidon para o primeiro, Apolo no caso do segundo.
Zeus, em seu aspecto de Zeus Moiragetes (O "líder do destino"), exerce influência sobre as decisões das três Moiras com seus desígnios. Apolo também conta com o epíteto Moiragetes, uma vez que seu poder profético consiste em também predizer o destino dos mortais.
Cultuadas em várias regiões da Grécia, as Moiras eram louvadas ao lado de deidades como Zeus e Apolo em Delfos, assim como tinham santuários em múltiplas regiões, como: Corinto, Esparta e Olímpia.
Segue adiante a lista com seus nomes e epítetos descritores mais achados.
NOMES DAS DEUSAS
Cloto (Κλωθω) - "Fiandeira"
Láquesis (Λαχεσις) - "Dispensadora de porções"
Atropos (Ατροπος) - "Irreprensível/Que não pode ser movida"
Percebamos que os nomes das três Moiras representam suas funções: Cloto fia, Láquesis mensura a porção da vida de cada mortal e Atropos corta o fio quando seu fim é alcançado.
EPÍTETOS DE CULTO
Clothês/Kataclothês (Κλωθω/Κατακλωθεσ) - "As fiandeiras", descreve a função representativa das Deusas em seu ofício.
Diantaiai (Διανταιαι) - "Implacáveis", descreve a natureza decisiva dos desígnios das Deusas do destino.
Theai Archaiai (Θεαι Αρχαιαι) - "Deusas Antigas", descreve seu caráter como Deusas anciãs. Diferindo da maioria das deidades helênicas, as Moiras tomavam aspectos antigos em suas representações. Diferentes versões dos mitos narram-nas como filhas de Nix, a Noite, o que as colocaria como entidades antiquíssimas, nascidas diversos éons antes dos Olimpianos.
As implacáveis Deusas do destino não têm um dia sagrado específico ou ritual associado, mas seu culto era parte da vida devocional dos antigos também.
O destino - ou seja, a porção alocada pelas Moiras referente a vida de cada um - é uma força narrativa muito bem representada em inúmeras peças helênicas antigas e um elemento relevante para discussão filosófica.
Que as Moiras, benignas e antiquíssimas, olhem sempre com bondade para a maneira pela qual fiamos e trilhamos nosso próprio rumo enquanto mortais. Sejam Elas nossas guias, sábias e gentis!
I haven't drawn Parcae in a while, she would totally wear this too. She's a fashion designer so I'd imagine she'd make herself cute outfits from time to time
