Grecian Urn...

She had collected just about everything she needed, save the last key ingredient... and it had to be easier than the last. Really, who thought a bunch of virgin temple attendants could be so bitchy? She hadn't really liked pulling the seniority card on them, but it had gotten her what she needed. The last bit she could get from her own temple, and she was in the garden, carefully using a hand spade to gather dirt, moving it onto a linen napkin sitting on the ground beside her.... a few more moments, and she'd be able to get out undisturbed, and get this over with...

New moon or not, she was prepared. She had gathered the materials she needed, Helios had been sent a message not to fly, Deimos had been warned not to do anything but watch, the scroll had been retrieved from Cronus...All that was left was execution. She still had her wirroes about trusting Cronus with something of such importm but his knowledge of spells far outstripped her own, and she gathered that of Hades and Ares as well.

She was on Cyprus, near a temple dedicated to her birth, having choses it as a place of hopefully neutral ground. She stood skyclad in front of a marble column, a copper bowl perched on top of it, a scroll hanging in the air beside her. She had taken the things she brought with her and situated them around the column - earth from Olympus, Stygian ore from Hades, Water from the sea, fire from the eternal flame kept at Hestia's hearth.

She lifted her arms to the moonless sky, witnessed only by the stars and her son, the words she chanted that of a greek considered ancient even to those on Olympus. One by one, in turn, she added the various elemental samples to the bowl... first earth, then sea, then underworld, then fire, bending lightly to blow on the mixture, adding air, the breath of the gods.

The words spoke of balance, of putting things to rights... they spoke of all three realms the gods had seperated into, and the world as a whole. The spoke of those chosen, youngest in each realm, symbols of those who would choose those who would lead. It spoke of ancient ideals, held high even now.

And as she spoke the air around her moved, the dark sky offering a strange glow, the waves of the sea crashing high on the nearby rocks.

There was no guess as to when the change happened - the earth lurched, and suddenly everything was calm - sea, earth, and sky.

The world of the gods had been put to right.

But for mortals, Time stood still.

Cafe Botsares was now largely empty, the lunch crowd finally thinning out as the sun began her gentle descent west. Cronus sat silently, his eyes fixed on the gentle lapping of the sea against the coast. His astakos was only half finished, but he was no longer amused by it. The waiter hovered nearby, trying to decide if he should take the plate. Cronus had not touched the dish for a half hour. Piraeus had not been the port of Athens when he ruled, though he had to admit it was a better choice than Phaleron. The whole little town fairly bustled with activity.

Tourist accounted for more business than every nowadays, especially with such easy access to the many islands that stippled the Aegean. When he could sense the waiter's anxiety peaking, Cronus gestured that his meal could be taken away. With rush of relief the man scooped up the remains of the lobster. Cronus ordered a Greek coffee and the waiter nodded happily, quickly heading back to the kitchen.

Beside him sat a young woman, Sabienne. She was probably not even twenty, though Cronus found it particularly difficult to tell the age of women nowadays. She was French, though she repeatedly insisted she was half Greek. When Sabienne first mentioned this out on the beach in the morning Cronus smiled gently and nodded in agreement. He did not want to tell her she was mistaken. Cronus could smell a Greek a kilometer away and this girl was clearly a Gaul.

However she proved an amiable enough companion for the afternoon. She talked incessantly, but had a good clean accent and was simple enough to follow. It amazed Cronus how much her rambling stories of friends and enemies, the little dramas of her still nascent social life, echoed the tales of his own children back on the Mount.

She was very beautiful too, possessed of a hungry, lean body distinctly the province of healthy youth. Her skin was dark from days in the sand. Blonde hair, a shade lighter than it would be in the winter, was gathered into a loose pony tail, which trailed to an end halfway down the well-toned, distinctly feminine curve of her back. A loose dress covered her small breasts and thin waist, concealing the bikini she still worse beneath. Straight teeth and a clean complexion complimented her azure eyes, which blinked just enough to tell Cronus she was genuinely speaking to him. He made sure to smile and nod appropriately. She would be simply delicious.

Cronus shifted his gaze from the sea back to his lunch… companion. Sabienne's smile blossomed anew when looked at her again. Her stream of speech faltered a moment, some primal part of her mammalian brain registering that she was looking at something more than a man. He had this effect on most humans.

The waiter swooped back in at this moment, delivering the Greek coffee. He was gone again in a whisper of a movement. Cronus smiled gently. "Would you like more wine, Sabienne?"

She assented and Cronus picked up the bottle of Xynomavro and filled her glass. She quickly found her speech again and started off on a story about the first time she got drunk on wine, back when she lived in Marseilles with her aunt. As Cronus set down the bottle she suddenly stopped speaking. This was enough to give Cronus pause and he looked to her once again. She sat entirely still, though not in a relaxed posture. Her mouth was slightly agape, as if in the act of forming her next word, and her fingers were frozen in a nearly closed ring around the stem of her wine glass.

A quick glance at the town around her confirmed Cronus' suspicions. He picked up his coffee and leaned back in his chair. As he sipped at the thick, bitter liquid he once again looked out at the sea, taking a singular thrill at seeing the foam-capped waves captured against the formerly fleeing sun.

The once King of all Creation smiled tightly. "Now," he commented quietly, "the fun begins."

The house felt way too quiet once Mel had left and with Anteros still sleeping off his early morning drinking binge, Psyche decided to take a walk on the beach. It was rare that she was anywhere besides Olympus, so she was going to enjoy this while she could.

A little girl with brown curly hair ran past her, shooting Psyche with a mischievous grin as she ran to collect sand for the sand castle she and her siblings were making. Psyche returned the smile, thinking about the child Eros and she always talked about having, but never got around to. Now that she'd cheated, she was unsure they would ever have offspring, let alone a marriage, once he found out.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts, it took a minute or two for her to clue in that all the noise on the beach had stopped.

The ocean wasn't crashing. The birds weren't calling. And looking at the little girl she'd just smiled at, Psyche knew something was definitely off. She stood, bent at the waist, by the water's edge, her pail still gathering water that was no longer moving.

Psyche didn't even stop to think. She ran straight back to the house, calling for Anteros, the entire way.

Never once did she realize the nagging headache that had plagued her from day one of the switch was finally gone.