Let's check in at the Cave, and maybe witness a confrontation between two of the Fates...


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Scene 8: Intentions

2020 B.C.


This was no accident. She wished it were, so that her heart right now weren't swelling with distrust — even a sentiment that bordered on disgust — toward her sister. But she knew it was no accident, no mere coincidence that had caused her to cross paths with Chrysaor. This twist of fate had been intentional, Clotho was sure. And her soul was now full of suspicion and doubt, after what he had told her.

It was one thing to feel blindsided by the force of fate, as mortals surely often were; to feel betrayed by fate, by one's own sister, was another.

Returning to the Cave, this time, she looked upon the Loom and saw Chrysaor's thread laid next to hers. No doubt Lachesis had set this connection in motion during the Fates' most recent visit to this place. Clotho hadn't even detected it then, since it was just a simple intersection, easily neglected — her thread and his weren't closely intertwined or anything like that. At least not yet.

Had she seen this familiar thread fated to cross with hers, she would of course have recognized it; but the intersection was so subtly arranged, smoothly mixed in with all the other souls Clotho had met the previous day, that she hadn't even noticed.

This subtlety, the carefulness with which the meeting had been orchestrated, was the reason she knew it was the handiwork of Lachesis. What she did not know was just why her sister had done this. Somehow she sensed that her intentions weren't good. Not in the slightest.

And now that the sisters were back in the Cave, the weaver of fate had to answer for this. Whether or not her answer would be honest.

Clotho rose and strode across the shadowed space, her pace as vigorous as the ire written all across her face. "What are you doing?"

Wide blue eyes blinked as if they had a right to be surprised. "I..."

"Don't say you don't know what I mean. No more lies."

Lachesis took a long pause before she replied, fighting against her instant reflex to deny. "Do — do you mean your crossing paths with Chrysaor?"

Affirmation came in the form of an impatient, steady stare.

"I... set your two threads on a path toward each other..."

The chestnut stare narrowed and sharpened. "I can see that. And on earth? How did you manage to make that work?"

Lachesis swallowed, pale gaze lowered, soft voice guiltless as she answered. "I just... told him where you were."

Clotho had no patience for these pretenses of innocence. Nothing about this made sense. She shook her head, unable to fathom the reasons. "But why, and how — how could you even tell him such a thing? How did you claim knowledge of my whereabouts? Did you reveal that you and I know each other, that we're sisters — that we are the Fates, for gods' sakes?"

"No, no of course not," Lachesis insisted, shuddering in defensive distress at the thought. "I know that it would be unwise to disclose our true identities, our immortality, to men on earth. I simply told Chrysaor that I have a certain... gift of sight. That although I am a mere mortal, truths sometimes reveal themselves to me in dreams."

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