The Captive Titan [ManxMan]

Chapter Fifteen: Dreaming in Color

We stop about halfway into the room, just below the skylight, though, as the statue is fairly tall, and getting to close would make it hard to see the entire thing without craning our necks or switching into our true forms, which would not be a good idea here. He remains silent for a moment, but I, feeling impatient to get this over with, elbow him in the side. He, of course, retaliates by dropping one of my hands and wrapping his arm around my waist to pull me closer to stop me from elbowing him again, but though I grumble about it, that is only to hide the fact that I am trying not to smile.

"When I see Athena's statue, I see a strong, capable goddess who has fought for and demanded the respect of many a mortal," Atlas starts. "They call her a warrior goddess - a goddess of war, though it is not among her born titles, and where the Spartans worship Ares, the Athenians worship her.

"The mortals of Hellas have little concept of equality of gender among my people, and it is strangely the Spartans who put more worth in women, so for the Athenians to rely on and fear my little, female cousin is something that both greatly amuses and impresses me," he finishes. Though, after a moment, he still adds, "She has earned it, and it is not because she is her ass of a father's favorite."

Tilting my head, I take his point of view into consideration as I regard the statue curiously. And while I will admit that he makes a good point, I still wrinkle my nose at it eventually, which makes him sigh. "What?"

"But why does everything have to be gold?"

-

Shaking my head to clear it of the old memory, I stared at the statue for another moment before turning away. Were it Zeus, I would have taken more offense to seeing his face in the highest Greek temple of worship, but since it is Athena and Nike, I simply roll my eyes before glancing over the pedestals lined up against the walls.

These are little more than blurs, however, which is unfortunate since I never really got to pay much attention to them or the treasured items on them when I was here, and they were destroyed by the time I first visited After. I am pretty sure some of the treasures were well-crafted vases and golden jewelry, as was common at the time, but they mattered little to me since my pantheon did not put much value in decorative items, which was part of the reason it took Atlas so long to court me properly; he thought like a Greek, which I decidedly wasn't.

Still, even though it is unfortunate that I cannot see what used to be here, nothing that was in the temple would really matter now. It is just surreal to note that this is yet another thing from my past that can never be recovered or returned to the way it was, as even if the mortals succeed in rebuilding the Parthenon, it will not be the same, no matter how similar it looks. And isn't that the truth about most everything After?

Humming to myself at that thought, I slide my hand over the carvings on the wall that depict battles and scenes of worship to the Greek goddess of wisdom and strategy. I never paid much attention to Athena's deeds as a goddess since I preferred to focus on the Titans, but I do remember these scenes, even if it is only because the artwork originally caught my attention during one particular visit because I was looking for anything that resembled the statue of Atlas holding up the sky that I had heard rumors of. Since that is no longer my goal, however, I make sure to take a moment to properly admire the craftsmanship, even if the focus is of a goddess I am not too fond of.

My admiration does not stop me from quickly moving on, though, nor do I allow myself to get so caught up in the scenery that I fail to keep my magic spread out in the event that someone finally shows up. Since this is a dream, it would be very hard to notice if the source randomly appeared - in fact, they could be here right now and simply be invincible to the eye, for all I know - but if I pay enough attention, it is possible to notice minute changes caused by the shifts of power that usually accompany movement. If the source is conscious of it, I will almost certainly not notice anything, but if they are not constantly thinking about hiding their movements, or if they do not think I would notice, they may make a mistake.