The Fates (Book II)

9.5 - Sail

Let's check in with Cloe and Chrysaor in B.C. :) ...

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Scene 5: Sail

2020 B.C.

Aboard the ship as it set sail, she felt her fingers tighten on the rail. Not for balance — although this was her first seafaring experience, the motion of the waves felt smooth and sure, to her. She clutched the wooden rail on some blind impulse, as her heart clung to this vessel, to the path on which it ventured as it sped toward the horizon's distant rim, her steady heartbeat in keeping with the ocean's rhythm. Every swell of the sea, every sigh of the wind, brought her closer to him.

She only wished that following her human heart, for once, did not feel like a sin.

Even when she was doing this entirely for him — no part of her was returning to Rider for the selfish purpose of seeking happiness — and even if that sort of selfless love was supposed to be a good thing, a beautiful thing, still Cloe couldn't help but feel that this was wrong. That she had not been strong, and that she had succumbed to the very distraction she'd hoped to evade, with the heartbreaking decision she had made. That she was now abandoning her duties as a daughter and a Fate...

Yet despite all her efforts to escape this distraction, fate itself had pulled her back in. Literally fate, in the form of none other than one of her sisters.

What was Lachesis even thinking?? As soon as it occurred for the millionth time to her frustrated mind, Cloe cut off the question; she had long since stopped trying to make sense of Lachesis's intentions.

When she tried to grant her sister the benefit of the doubt — whatever slivers of it might even remain — she would feel like a fool, for even entertaining the notion of placing her trust in Lachesis again. When she imagined the worst, she felt sick to the pit of her stomach.

So she tried not to imagine anything. If one thing was clear to Cloe, in light of what Chrysaor had revealed and what Lachesis had confessed during their recent confrontation in the Cave, it was that she and her sister were two very different Fates with very different souls, different values and goals, different ways of handling their duties and their roles. But in all of this, the worst part was that they were of one heart.

A hand came to rest softly on hers, where she clung ever more tightly to the railing — Cloe looked down and noticed that her knuckles were paling. Her grip had been spontaneously tightening at the thought of her sister, apparently. Which was hardly surprising. She loosened it and turned to smile at the companion who stood by her side.

"Are you all right?" Chrysaor asked. "Get any sleep last night?"

Cloe nodded, trying to hide the memory of the dreams she'd had, during what little sleep she'd gotten — dreams that were all too real, as always, since the Fates' nightly visits back to the Cave were every bit as real as their waking days. In many ways, her most recent return to the Cave had been the most dramatic — and traumatic — yet; it was one she would not soon forget. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied with a long, heavy sigh. "I've just got... a lot on my mind."

Chrysaor gave her hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

The simple gesture epitomized everything for which she was so grateful to him. For his friendship, with her and more importantly with Rider; his sincere caring for both of them, steadfast loyalty paired with a selfless respect for boundaries. All of which brought to mind the sad thought that he was exactly what Lachesis was not.