Who: The Moirae, Echo, Narcissus and baby Bastian Where: Echo and Narcissus' cabin When: Saturday evening Rating: TBD
They came on the seventh day, as was their custom. No longer did the three Spinners preside over every birth, or stand before the cradle of each newborn as they had in the old country, with their words of prophecy and wisdom for those capable of hearing them. That was no longer their lot. But for tonight, for the boy child of Narcissus and Echo, they would make an exception - for although neither parent was truly a god, and the boy himself mortal to the bone, he was yet one of theirs and the blood that ran through his veins was of Greece, their Greece, and the old lines.
It had been a long time since they had seen a birth into the pantheon.
The gifts were less a traditional thing, but it would hardly have been polite to have turned up empty-handed. Clotho carried a present for little Bastian, wrapped in brightly-coloured paper. ("Why wrap it at all?" Atropos had questioned. "'S not like the kiddie's going to notice either way.") Lachesis had brought a platter of home-baked kourabiethes, golden brown and shaped into crescents under their heavy dusting of powdered sugar. Atropos' left hand curled around the neck of a bottle of tawny port.
The other she raised to the door, and rapped on the wood sharply.