#greek myth inspired

[neptunesize]

𝓬𝓲𝓻𝓬𝓮

a madeline miller’s novel inspired playlist

𓇢𓆸 Which Witch - Florence + The Machine

𓇢𓆸 Porcelain - Skott

𓇢𓆸 Settle - Vera Blue

𓇢𓆸 Movement - Hozier

and more! Listen here

[popjunkie42]

Painted Blind - Chapter One

Amazing commission done by the brilliant, beautiful and talented @witchlingsandwyverns!!! (thank you I love you!!!)

Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind. Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste; Wings and no eyes figure unheedy haste: And therefore is love said to be a child, Because in choice he is so oft beguil'd. -William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream

What Feyre Archeron wants is simple: enough food, gold and safety to take care of her family. But when a terrifying fae beast crosses the wall and enters the human lands, she finds that simple, safe life slipping out of reach.

Part one of an ACOTAR re-telling inspired by the Greek myth of Psyche and Eros.

Read on AO3

Thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher and @rosanna-writer for the beta reads and encouragement. I have been working on this for a long time...over a year...and the support has been amazing!

It's here! I haven't built it up too much or anything and am now nervous! Don't look at me!

I hope you enjoy...this will be a journey <3 Snippet of chapter one under the cut!

Unhappy the land that is in need of heroes.

-Bertolt Brecht, Galileo

Woodsmoke and stale ale hung heavy in the air as I gently shut the back door to the tavern.

The noise of the place hit me like a jolt. I was used to the twilight quiet of the forest, and the cold and empty winter streets outside. The deep boom of men’s laughter and shouts, the clatter of the kitchen, the drowned out sounds of a fiddle in the corner. Wood groaned under my feet, the floor sticky and worn as I edged around the walls in the shadows, angling towards the roaring fireplace.

This was not a place for young women like me. Certainly not my first choice of accommodations for the night. The brazen, lingering stares running up and down my body reminded me of that every step of the way. But the heat of the fire along with the surrounding warm bodies was worth it when I began to feel the tips of my fingers again.

Ten minutes ago I had been elbows-deep in blood and entrails, the squelching sound drowned out by the laughter and warm light of the tavern behind me as I worked. One dunk of my bloody hands into a frozen bucket of water to wash off made me rethink any fearful self preservation I might have had left.

Survival was like that. Blurring the edges of what should be a simple, safe decision.

But I wasn’t making cautious decisions these days. Outside, chill winds whipped up the fresh frozen snow and threw it against anything in its path. My cheeks smarted and burned with it even now. The cold had taken the easy prey and then the difficult prey, and now I was forced deeper and deeper into the woods every night to find something, anything for my family.

My fingers and toes started to ache as the frozen digits warmed back to life, tingling with pain. I knew the barkeep’s goodwill would only last so long once he saw me and knew I wouldn’t be purchasing anything. Even if the growling of my stomach battled the sounds in this loud room, as the smells of fresh bread and ale and mutton wafted through the room amidst the more unpleasant scents.

But it wouldn’t do to leave the deer unattended for long, not when there were desperate men and other predators just as hungry as me and attracted to the scent of blood. I had more of the deer to skin, and it would be hours until the dawn sun touches this place.

Cracked skin, split nails, a cramp in my stomach. Usually that was all I had to show for my nights buried in snow up to my knees or huddled in bare tree branches. But tonight, at dusk, luck was with me and I had taken a deer as it crept towards the half frozen river.

It had walked directly under my tree and straight ahead of me, presented like a ready gift from some long forgotten god. I was so weak with cold and hunger my hands shook as I readied my bow. But my arrow hit true.

Still, the deer had been larger than I could usually handle. I spent too much time with my feet buried in new snow, making a rough bower, then gutting it and finally taking the head before it was light enough for me to carry back in slippery sprints.

My body was screaming with exhaustion by the time I spotted the low night lights of the village. But there was nowhere in our family’s small cabin to keep a bleeding body. Certainly not if my sisters had anything to say about it.

More eyes shot to me as a glass smashed and I jolted like a spooked rabbit. I rubbed life back into my hands, trying to calm my nerves. Now that I wasn’t shivering and fighting the cold, exhaustion threatened to set deep in my bones. It was almost two o’clock in the morning. Nesta and Elain would be fast asleep, cuddled together for warmth in our shared bed.

The anger in me burned, like the bitter nettle tea Elain brewed to keep our stomachs warm in between meals.

Two men had been watching me, talking low and close to one another for too long. I wove between bodies and chairs to find another spot further away from their gaze.

My life was always like this, for as long as we had been in the cabin. Forced out of our richly appointed manor by my father’s debtors, the old place now just a dreamy blur in the fading memories of my childhood.

The days were never dull, that was for certain. I ricocheted between life and death, forest and hearth, starvation and sustenance. I walked the woodland paths that fed and sheltered me, forests that held monsters or the stark winter seasons of starvation. Poisons and fanged beasts and untrustworthy men. Fruit and herbs, glistening springs, growth and life and death. Three pathways: death, bare survival, or thriving life, all converging to a crossroads, and sometimes I ran so quickly between them I got whiplash.

Sometimes, in the twilight hours between sleep and waking, I remembered when it wasn’t always so. I remembered a childhood filled with dresses and lavish meals and even stolen cookies with petal pink icing that smeared all over my face. I couldn’t recall, now, the last time I tasted sugar. Or had days on end with a full belly, without a care in my heart. That life was over now, and this new one demanded sacrifices. Like drawing the attention of unsavory drunk men in order to stay warm enough to bring breakfast to my family.

My eyes cast over the crowd. I wasn’t entirely alone. Isaac Hale was here, with his father and brothers, doing an excellent job of ignoring me completely. Old Hobb, at least, had given me a tip of his floppy felt cap from his station at the bar, several tankards in tonight. He had already reached the next stage of his drunkenness and would doubtless start a fight or an oddly unslurred lecture soon.

I didn’t mind - I had been subject to many of those lectures, and sometimes found them helpful. The old hunter was one of the few men in the village who had ever shown me kindness, catching me some years back when he caught me slicing through the intestines of my rabbits as I tried to skin them.

The cold, snow-burned skin on my cheeks was now hot and burning on my face as my blood ran warmer, waking from its sluggish sleep.

If I was lucky tonight, Isaac would continue to ignore me and the rest of the bar would be too drunk to notice or remember me. And if they did focus on me too long, I had been practicing since I was fifteen - the stance I had, one that was quiet but not small. Forcing the tiredness from my face the best I could, setting my jaw and keeping my hunting knife in easy reach.

I wouldn’t be prey tonight. I was the hunter. And if anyone chose to test me, my hunger and desperation would only make me more fierce.

At least, that’s what I told myself, to keep from breaking apart.

Just as I was thinking about moving back into the cold to finish my butchering, the front door of the tavern swung open with a blast of cold wind.

And silence fell.

Read the rest on AO3

[cupidvision]

𝓱𝓮𝓻𝓪- 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓶𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓮

𝒽𝒾𝓈𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎

hera is the child of cronus and rhea, as well as the sister of her future husband, zeus. she was swallowed by her father cronus, and was saved by zeus. since gods and goddesses are immortal, they couldn’t do anything, but wait to be released.

after this, the greek gods vs titan war begins. she sides with her siblings (the gods) and fights against the titans. during this, she is attacked by the titans, but zeus sacrifices himself to save hera.

𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑒𝓇𝒶

hera represents marriage, but she can also represent jealousy, which i will get into later in this post

she has powers such as, shape shifting, weather manipulation, mind control, and being able to change creatures into different creatures

she was said to help other greek goddess into having healthy babies and good marriages

𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓁𝒾𝒻𝑒

zeus actually made attempts at courting hera, but he failed. he then turned into a cuckoo bird, and hera pitied the bird so she held it to her breast. he then turned back into is god form and pleasured hera. she felt much shame, so to cover it up, she married zeus. the had a very beautiful wedding, that the gods and goddesses enjoyed

during their relationship, zeus cheating on hera multiple times, which grew hera to become jealous, envious, and vengeful.

one of zeus’s lovers, leto, was a victim to hera’s revenge. hera made everyone shun leto, she sent a huge python to attack her, and cursed leto so she wouldn’t be able to find anywhere to give birth

another of his lovers, io, was turned into a cow and was watched by argus panoptes, who was a giant with 100 eyes, so zeus could never see her again

alcmene, was refused birth by hera, who was the mother of hercules. in some myths, it’s said that for a birth to occur, the goddess eileithyia, must be present. in which, hers forced her to sit outside of the delivery room.

hera poisoned, and successfully killed a majority of oenone’s island, by throwing a snake into the water source

the final story i will be sharing involves semele. zeus got semele pregnant, and this caused hera to be jealous and upset. hera then manipulated her into asking zeus to show her his powers to their fullest potential, which then burned her alive

𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒻𝒶𝒸𝓉𝓈

other names: juno

symbols: cuckoo bird, peacock, cow, flowers, crown, pomegranate, sceptre

asteroid meaning(my opinion): marriage, fertility, childbirth, women, jealousy, vengefulness, envy, wanting to harm someone out of jealousy, being tricked into love, marrying/ falling in love with someone out of guilt or shame

dwelling: mount olympus

children: hephaestus, eileithyia, hebe, ares

dividers by @anitalenia @aquazero @i-mmaculatus

[xoxochb]

I just know conversations between aphrodite and artemis were entrancing

[pj-creativity]

Messy art is the best art.

https://ko-fi.com/pjcreativity

[texaschainsawmascara]

Medu🐍a

[meekmedea]

a silly little ashcote idea came to mind - this is inspired by the myth where Theseus and his friend, Pirithious, travel to the underworld because they decided they wanted to marry daughters of Zeus, and Pirithious decided that he wanted to marry Persephone.

So imagine 2 foolish adventurers who've made that treacherous journey to the underworld, hoping to rescue the abducted goddess of spring from the cruel god that keeps her hostage. And lo-and-behold, they've found the goddess!

Well, it's actually Clemensia.

She's a bit annoyed at these two visitors showing up. And when they clarify they're looking for the goddess and what exactly they're here for, she explains that they've mistaken her for someone else. But she promises to direct said-diety to them. How nice, right?

Except it's not a goddess that returns with her, it's Reaper, who's irritable that he has to deal with this.

If you ask Reaper, Clemmie could have easily dealt with these intruders, given that the underworld is her domain. Instead, he tells them that he's uninterested in marrying either of them.

Clemmie watches in the background, giggling at Reaper's annoyance.

The two adventures think they're lying - and just maybe they get a bit too impolite with their words when Reaper tells them to leave.

And well, being impolite to the gods isn't very clever - maybe there's some smiting, or the 2 are tossed out of the underworld.

Bonus things:

Role-wise: Clemensia is the ruler of the underworld and essentially has the same titles as Hades would, while Reaper is Persephone's equivalent in terms of titles

Mortals tend to assume their roles are reversed - (1) bias, (2) a silly moment between the 2 from a millennia back that accidentally gave people the impression that Clemensia got abducted by Reaper into the Underworld.

[avetesketches]

Recent art of characters in a world/story I’m creating 🌙🩵✨

[dumplingprincessextraordinaire]

I’m dying, as someone who loves mythology. He has to be trolling us.

[mythicaltoad]

After a bit of a break I’m finally back!

Here is my NEW BATIM oc! [More so AU]

I’ve been in a Greek Mythology kick for a while and wanted to make character based off of Greek mythos.

Enjoy :]

[hyacinthstears]

Mystic Odyssey - Underworld, Thunder Saga

Yuichi and Dysseus are almost out of the hidden city, but they have one more challenge to face before they are free.

One day I will figure out how many scars they have and where they are.

The Thunder Sage helped me figure what their outfits should look like. I guess that's what happens when some new songs from your favorite WIP musical are released and you spend a whole week pacing around your room making turtle based music videos in your head. and thanks to that I have come up with a new outfit and a character also I've had the idea of Dysseus losing an arm to match Leo for awhile but thanks to coming up with a cool shot in my brain while listening to to Different Beast.

tbh I love their designs in this drawing they really look so cool for depressed little fucked up boys in their 30s

Also I got rid of the scar on Dysseus's Plastron I once again changed something thanks to making music videos in my head 👍🏽

[artheadmil]

[cupidvision]

𝐳𝐞𝐮𝐬- 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝐠𝐨𝐝

𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

zeus is the offspring of cronus and rhea. he was the youngest child but also survived his father. rhea would feed her children to cronus, since he was scared that his children would kill him. the last time though, when rhea had zeus she hid him, and fed cronus a rock to trick him into thinking that it was his newest born child. in this time, zeus was being taught and raised by an eagle, nymphs, and a goat.

when zeus discovered his sibling were eaten by his father, he made it a mission to go out and save them from cronus’s stomach. so with the help of metis, she gave him a concoction of wine and mustard. this mixture was supposed to make cronus throw up his children. zeus came to cronus in a disguise telling him to drink this liquid he created, and he did indeed drink it. the drink successfully made him throw up zeus’s siblings

this somewhat striked the titans vs the gods war, that lasted 10 years. during this fight, zeus and his siblings fought their dad. (there were other titans too). zeus was losing this fight pretty badly, but then an idea struck him. (some articles say gaia gave him this advice). he decided to free monsters that were locked under the earth. they agreed with helping him in this war. these were the cyclops

since they were grateful for zeus freeing them, they crafted him his lighting bolt, along with some of his siblings signature weapons. although the zeus and his siblings had a bit of a clap back due to gaining weapons, the titans were still beating them, so then zeus released the hundred handers which really helped with the success of zeus and the other gods winning the war. after this zeus finally secured his spot at the supreme god

𝐳𝐞𝐮𝐬’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

like many other gods, goddesses, and titans, he married his sister hera. he ended up having many many children with hera, like athena, ares, persephone, etc. he also had a lot of children that weren’t hera’s at all 😭. he was a serial cheater, and cheated very often. he would also manipulate or force women into sleeping with him.

𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐳𝐞𝐮𝐬

other/ nick names: jupiter, sky father, father of gods and men

planet: jupiter

symbols: thunder bolt, lighting, eagle, bull, oak tree

day: thursday

where he lived: mount olympus

[xoxochb]

cabin one - children of zeus, god of the sky. ambitious, goal oriented

‘got a feelin’ your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with light’ - electric touch

[mahiiimahiiii]

crocus

a/n: im branching out into mutli-chapter! sorry my posts have been taking a bit. this story will take a while to progress as i want to do it right.

read here or on a03!

You knew her form in every way. You knelt on the rippling bed of water before you, her larger-than-life image burned into your memory. A snack of grapes, she offers you one. You take it, it's refreshing. She treats you shallowly like a spoiled pet, your night shirt stained with the weave. Her hair spills about her chin, half of her body reclines into the deep water below. She summons them, the jellyfish you adore. This is what you could have, if you do a favor for me Of course, nothing in life was free, the borealis in the purple sky shone brightly on your anguish. Your tail tightened behind you. No longer will you be disgraced; I will welcome you with open arms The sting you felt at her words felt embedded in the depths of your heart, it ached to be under her thumb again. What must I do, you return in kind. Visions flashed of a beast more monstrous than any other, its cloak ragged, colored a dark purple hue. Kill the beast.

+++

You bid adieu to the companions that allowed you to stay in their home, a satchel full of fresh fruits and dried meats. You lifted your canteen to your lips taking a swig of the cool stream water. It fell down your chin in drops and made puddles out of your shirt. The dream certainly shook you up a bit, but it was a decent sign of Mystra approval at your redemption. There is only so much harm one God can do to your life. The beast was rumored to be nearby, you had tracked the stories across ferûn finding its origin in rural Waterdeep. An odd place for old folklore, but a promising lead, nonetheless. The dense Forest pass ahead had been barely marked on your map. The jingle and clink of your tools fluttered behind you, as you passed through groves of trees, finding crisp apples in one. And there you found it, the labyrinth entrance. Up near the front sat a small shrine to Mystra, a foreboding warning if anything. Tacked near the shrine was a little wooden sign painted a dusty emerald green, the outline of a white teapot and enchanted text. The paint smelled fresh. You grabbed a loose piece of string from your cloak, tying it to the post and securing it. You lit a torch and held it aloft, following the green signs about that cave as the fabric popped along behind you. The caves themselves were humid, scattered with small waterfalls and clay bricks of faded colors. Ferns, moss and purple flowers grew from spigots of water and areas that drew a lot of moisture. You sit down a moment near one of the spigots, refilling your canteen. You wet a cloth under the water and wiped the sweat from your brow. You decided that now, a better time than any, was good for a snack. You pulled out a wedge of cheese, a pack of pickled fish and a chunk of bread. The cheese spread like butter, it was spiced, and tastes like your mother's mephistar cooking. You layered it with chunky and salty pieces of bone-free tuna. A pretty shitty meal at best but one that will keep you going for a while The sound of padded paws and jingling bells graces your ears, a tressym spotted like a tortoiseshell cat came into view, it grimaced at the scent of the fish.

You broke off a bit of the clean bread and offered it to the cat. She scarfed it down and began to lick her leg like a chicken drumstick. "That fish won't sustain you for much, you know." The cat stated pointedly, her eyes scrunched close in concentration.

The packing supplies rattled slightly as you put them away, doing a small Jump in surprise.

"I'm well aware, this was a snack before I scout out a place to camp." "Camp?!" The cat scoffed, "my friend runs a small inn nearby, he'll be happy to have guests. We have them more often in the winter during a specific ceremony for worshipers of Silvanus escorting their friends into hibernation. " "But I'm here to find-" "Nonsense, a cup of tea will clear your head, whatever you're finding will make sense after a good night's sleep." The cat brushed herself along your legs. You stood up, following her into the depths of the maze, eventually the cracked and sandy floor turned into a smooth rock brick. The art was newer in the walls, possibly done by previous worshippers. A sign that looked like the same green kettle settled on a beam of a building built into an alcove Your fingers brushed against the wood of the doorframe, the rest of the village that peered off the balcony below into the depths of the underdark bustled and hummed. The cat found a plush cushion at the desk, small keys hung behind her, as well as rows of books. The floor was aged wood, cracks filled in with dark cool clay. The room was open air, with small lanterns filled with enchanted candles filled with spices. The tressym stretches, nipping at an enchanted pen and stamping her own paw in ink, marking down in a book. "Name?" She asked. "Uhm.. Li'ia Obbon." "Your room will be number 6”. "That is very generous of you " you grasp at the key floating towards you "First night is free alongside the baths, you will have to pay for food though." "Oh- that's quite the lovely deal." The cat herself shrugged, "we have a lot passing through, we simply offer better services for those staying longer- as good will be a more 'on-the house' thing as you're paying for it with room and board." You Hum in acknowledgement, the tressym cleans her paws in water and dries them on a towel nearby. "I suggest you have a bath before the master wakes, he takes a while." "He is nocturnal?" You tilt your head, slightly fascinated. "Only until recently. Then he had a late-night reading session, and it went downhill from there." "Thank you for the tip." The keys are heavy in your hand as you hike up the stairs, your pack weighing heavily on your back. The hall was of the same cool wood, filled with dark clay. The key slotted into the hole and turned, revealing a large room with upwards windows bright beams of the lowering sun flooded the room. You set down your pack on the trunk, deciding it was best to bathe in the current moment. You locked the door behind you, following the sense smell of rosebud and lavender down the steps. The first step was clothes. You stepped out of them in a washroom, adding them to an enchanted bucket that spun them about and onto a washboard. Next you tiptoed down the hall in a robe to a shower room. The tile that adorned the central floors was wet.

You removed the robe gathered from the mudroom, sniffing and smelling the tray of bottles that sat in front of you on the already heated stool. One smelled spicy, it bubbles gently in a deep green bottle. The next in a dark brown one smelt fresh and minty, the content within was thick and creamy, inlaid with chunks of cucumber. The final one was herbal, similar to the thick one. You chose the two foaming ones at first, a spicy scent in your hair and an Herby one adorned your body- and rinsing them out smelt like a field of herbs. You applied, then combed with your fingers through the cucumber and mint conditioner. Rinsing it out with cool water you found your hair to be silky and soft. You wrapped yourself in the robe again, striding to the wooden frame that led to the baths.

The bath was large, framed by large netheril style collums often found in historical art books, warm and worn stone tile, and a break in the cave ceiling allowing dappled and golden rays to hit the water. The benches looked out of place. Large white wicker benches for patrons to nap in, they were guarded by stalks of wild flowers with round purple blooms. Clovers and Daisys lined the stone path. The bath itself held warm water lily pads, each with blooms of pink and purple. Framed at the end of the pool in a halo of light- hidden amongst the lilies sat a gentleman.

From the looks behind it seemed to be an older tiefling, long gorgeous horns that held ornate rings. Well polished with oils and held high above his head. Freckles dotted his skin and melted into the water above his stomach. Honey brown skin, accented with mottled patches of bright skin sewn in by pink stretch marks. His head was tilted to one side, he was napping in a bright puddle of sun. You set down you things inspecting him as you went. His hair was a deep chestnut brown, laden with bright tawny orange hair to dark black. Silver ran though most tying the highlights and lowlights together.

He was not muscular by any means, rounded cheeks and a soft belly. Perhaps he was in a class that required it less. You tentatively tested the water hissing at the heat radiating from the pool. The teifling stirred in his sleep as you adjusted to the heat.every step down into the water relayed a sharp and quick hiss. He was handsome to.say the least now that you had a closer look. A strong nose and thick brows. Soft lashes and smudged tattoo lines. You reclined against the tile and wondered what his eyes looked like. He startled slightly, the sun catching the strands of silver in his hair. He hummed in delight,eyes turned to the sun shut in bliss. An eye slowly opened, drinking in the volcanic pool filled with lilies. He cleared his throat and dipped something from a ceramic mug. The water barely doubled as he moved. His motions were deliberate and delicate.you sat stunned and silent before he showed any recognition of your presence. “I must apologize for my carelessness.” His voice was soft and gentle. It caressed your ears. He moved towards you with a lily pad underneath his hands. “the best first impression isn't drowning in front of such lovely company.'' His smile was warm and lopsided, his eyes deep pools of dark brown. “Where are you from traveler?” “wyrms crossing ” came your response

The other tilted their head. “It's outside of the main gate to the lower city, within Baldur's gate. The more convoluted answer is I'm originally from mephistar but I've lived in a lot of places due to apprenticeships.” He nods slowly, grasping the picture. “What do you specialize in? “Orchestral arrangements! I studied under Volo for a time period which specializes in music and bardic spells without vocal cantrips…” you trail off as he raises his eyebrow. “That's intriguing, perhaps the weave is a commonality between us.” his brow furrows, as he scratches his chin. “Are you here on business?” “Sort of, a divine intervention sort of thing.” “Divine?” That caught his interest. “Yes for the church of Tyr- I'm on my coming of age mission.” The lie laid easy on his psyche, the owner shifted his weight, settling on the bench beside you. “You will be here for long?” He tilted his head, a curl stuck to his wet cheek. “A bit yeah.” You shrug, “it depends on when my god deems it ready.” A flare of pain pinged through your head, a groan escaping your lips. “Sorry- headache” you excuse yourself- the rough pads of his fingers brushing against your skin. “Will I see you in the morning?” He called as you bundled yourself in a towel and robe “Tomorrow-” you chirped, padding to your room.

+++

The pain burned into your skull as you curled up under the covers. “Have patience my lady-” you gasped, clamping your eyes shut as you felt your body disintegrating beneath you.

++

You sat in the warm pool, floating with lily pads again, she watched you- perched on the stone bank, her lips touching the crystal goblet. You have done well she cooed, her words reverberating against your ribs You are oh so close, my sweet summer peach. Oh, you ached. Find him for me- Yes of course you would. Kill the beast.

[the-gnomec-college]

This Sceptred Isle, Chapter 1: The Image Shop

As the distant sun slowly rose in the east, Bv’nei set to work opening his shop in the White Square of Atalantes. He rolled out of bed from the loft apartment above the shop, taking care not to wake his daughter Myrham till he had prepared breakfast. He set a pot of khaveh to boil on a hot plate in the shop below, allowing the aromatic steam that escaped to fill the rafters as it percolated.

The pot was one of his own making, cast in bronze and adorned with etchings that depicted an old Idrisidian tale he’d heard as a child, and been enamored with ever since. It told a story of a jinn teaching humanity how to brew khaveh from the crushed seeds of the khavea plant. Bv’nei had even tuned the spout to gently whistle the tune of a song about the same story. Now, here, so far from the dunes he played in as child, that bronze khaveh pot and its melody were no longer mere keepsakes; they were the remains of a life he could never return to.

“A new day to make the man his drachma and walk away with spit.”

Bv’nei took a bitter sip of khaveh, squinting bleary eyes at the dull brass light of the distant sun, still making its ascent into the rosy sky. The inspiration for a new image popped in Bv’nei’s head and he rushed from the shop window to his drafting table to scratch out a rough depiction of a sun god riding a golden chariot around the edges of a disc, meant to simulate the arc of the sky.

A creak from above reminded Bv’nei he hadn’t even started making breakfast. He dropped his charcoals and hurriedly threw some flour, honey, curds, and olive oil in a pan. He brushed the curls out of his eyes so he could think better as he mixed the ingredients together into flatcakes and fried them over another hot plate.

The figure on the image could be any number of sun gods, Bv’nei mused, but a safe bet might be Helios; his highest paying clientele seemed to favor the old Helenec gods.

Few still worshipped them since the Atlasfall—just a minority of Atalecs and Helenes who still kept the faith of the old world—but their images and stories were nevertheless woven into the cultural identity of Atalantes, despite the fact that many other, far more persuasive, religions had arrived on the far western shores of Atalantes.

Now, a rich tapestry of religious & spiritual traditions called the island citystate of Atalantes home, each with their own pantheon of gods, goddesses, ancestors, and otherworldly spirits to pay respects to. Nearly everyone worshipped something, and every thing had a god devoted to it in some pantheon or another.

Although he personally worshipped none of the pantheons, Bv’nei saw their gods in everything. After all, it was his trade: it was a common need amongst many of these traditions to have some physical vessel on which the faithful’s devotion could be concentrated, some token or totemic figure—what more zealous sects might refer to as an “idol”. For the purposes of Bv’nei’s trade, such figures were known simply as images and icons. In the great melting pot of Atalantes, there was no end to demand for images, and Bv’nei, as an especially gifted craftsman, was particularly equipped to supply them with exactly what they desired.

His shop, as small as it was, was filled to the brim with these images from innumerable pantheons. Here was Mars, there was Athena. He had wards to stave off Okean of the Deep, medallions to honor Adeqa’s Child Divine, and more than one image of the late Last Atlas (although, he did not advertise that last one).

Bv’nei’s own religion regarded the use of these images as idolatry, and this fact had been the source of some tension since he first began this business—both with his own conscience and with his community. His conscience had been the easier of the two to mollify—not because he didn’t have one, but because he had always thought of himself as the practical sort: he had been transported to Atalantes with a debt to pay off for his commuted sentence, and this had been as good a way as any to pay that debt and buy his freedom.

The Bvanu academy, on the other hand, had not been so easy to persuade. Bvanu teachings clearly forbade Bvaneim from worshipping any gods but the god of their ancestors. As far as Bv’nei was concerned, his craft wasn’t worshipping these gods, only finding beauty in the world and cultures around him to make art, and the fact that his clients could use these images to enrich their own practices was just what made it marketable. The scholars at his academy thought differently.

Their position had been that by knowingly providing other people with idols, Bv’nei—it could be argued—was participating in idolatry. Bvanu law did not apply to non-Bvaneim, of course, and thus it maintained no opinion on whether it was permissible for his non-Bvanu clients to worship their gods, but a Bvanu such as Bv’nei participating in that worship would still be considered engaging in idolatry.

In the end, Bv’nei settled the dispute with this argument: “Who gets drunk: the one who drinks the wine, or one who sells it?”

There was some disagreement between the scholars. Obviously only the person drinking the wine would get drunk from it, but didn’t the wine seller share some responsibility in getting the man drunk?

Most agreed the man held the greatest share of responsibility (though, one of the scholars countered, in the case of alcoholism, he was less liable due to his illness). However, one of the scholars elaborated, if he already appeared intoxicated, anyone who sold him wine might also share responsibility if he became inappropriately drunk.

Another scholar disagreed: a wine seller would reasonably expect anyone purchasing wine from them to be saving the wine for later, in which case it would still be unreasonable to hold the seller accountable.

At last, one of the scholars pointed out that, in this metaphor, Bv’nei’s trade was actually more like selling empty wineglasses than selling wine, and since empty vessel can be filled with any liquid, not just wine, the seller could not be liable for anyone’s drunkenness, much less be considered a participant in drunkenness. A dissenting opinion maintained that a wineglass was still intended for wine, even if it could be filled with other things.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t long before a consensus was reached: Bv’nei crafted and sold empty spiritual vessels that could be used for multiple purposes. There were uses that were perfectly acceptable for Bvaneim, and simply providing non-Bvaneim with the materials they need for their religious practice shouldn’t be considered participation in it. Furthermore, it would be against Bvanu teachings to impose the Bvanu religion on non-Bvaneim or withhold patronage in a way that would impede them from practicing their own ways.

The scholars issued an informal recommendation. While they could not condone Bv’nei’s business as best practice, and thus refused to encourage it, they could find no reason in religious law to condemn it, and resolved that it should not negatively effect his standing in the community.

The melodic whistle of the khaveh pot brought Bv’nei’s mind back to the present just as Myrham trudged down the steps from the loft, her long frizzy curls hanging over her eyes.

“Morning, Myrham!”

Myrham mumbled out a response.

“I’m making tagenites, if you want some. And there’s hot khaveh in the pot.”

Looking down at his pan, Bv’nei realized he had burned the flatcakes.

“May be a minute on the tagenites, though.”

“That’s okay,” Myrham said, taking a sip of khaveh after diluting it with the acceptable helping of cream. “I think we still have some bread in the box.”

Myrham lifted the bread box—a colorfully painted wooden container in the shape of a sphinx-like harvest goddess—and lifted the top (the goddess’s head) to show a barley loaf beneath.

“Bread.”

Bv’nei chuckled.

“Okay, just make sure you have some dates or curds too to round it out. I don’t want you passing out on the job.”

He tried not to show his disappointment. Making breakfast for the family was always something that brought the family together—something that had become even more crucial in his mind now that they were down to two.

He shrugged it off, downing the burnt tagenites with another sip of khaveh, as he donned his jacket and opened the store front.