Who: Pygmalion and Thalia When: Ancient Greece Where: Cyprus, Greece What: Pygmalion meets one of the Muses on his walk through the city.
The worst thing to ever befall any artist was to lose his inspiration. Pygmalion was known for his beautiful stone statues that all but breathed life. He had a way of capturing perfection when all most people could see was a slab of solid stone. He was the King of Cyprus without a Queen. He had very clearly stated that he would not marry. He had no desire to marry or ever marry. In a culture that plucked girls off at a young age to make prostitutes or wives of them to men far older than themselves; Pygmalion simply refused. He had no interest in women. His city was littered with filth. One could outlaw such practices, deny the gods of their own people and he would curse it. He would not bring his entire city down, but he did not have to put any power behind the gods that he could not see. He chose to ignore them. If they could allow such a mess to run the earth then they did not deserve his patronage.
He rarely stepped out of his own palace, only to collect the tools in which to make his statues and enjoy nature. They were his real family, the things he worshiped. When he left his home he dressed as a simpleton. No one even knew what he looked like because of the gossip that filled the city walls. They said he was old, that the gods had cursed him to be forever alone, some even thought he was a cripple that couldn't leave the palace. No one knew the truth other than he could make marble dance. Even then stories ran around that he didn't do them at all, that he collected slaves to do his work.
He had no intention of speaking to anyone as he ventured out. He had been hard at work all day with no luck. It was as if his hands refused to coordinate with his design. The marble he'd been working on had cracked right down the middle. He'd thrown it out in frustration, now seeking the fresh air to shake his nerves and give him a clear head. It was a lonely life to live without anyone to talk to. As he walked down a narrow path he talked, muttering things that only he understood. He had made a hermit of himself and he would probably die alone without ever having spoken to a woman.