Dear Readers: Let's see how Atropos has chosen to deal with darkness in the hearts of humankind...

FYI: the historical and mythical figures mentioned in this scene are true to this civilization's history and mythology, not my own invention.  And as with Egypt - the scorn expressed here toward their pantheon is from Atropos/Atria's standpoint, not mine ;)

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Scene 8: Finish Line

2020 B.C.

Back again. With a vengeance.

Vengeance against each dark heart on this earth, this damned and dismal earth, that put her mother’s life in danger. Leave it to the silly little sisters, to have sympathy for this despicable species. Leave it to her own sappy conscience, worse yet, not to claim a right to veto as the eldest. Since when were the three Fates a three-way democracy?

At any rate, this Fate was back on earth. But in a different place this time, of course—she had no purpose in the palace of the pharaoh, in whose court she had already said her piece. Her platform on capital punishment, surely met with shock at court, and surely disregarded…

Whatever. She couldn’t dwell on any lives she touched, or deaths she witnessed, on this earth. Just as Chaos had said, she had to set to work. The work would be easier if she played deaf to such memories.

Atropos’s plan for handling the darkness in humanity’s heart was simple: if she couldn’t snip all threads at once, she could at least discern which mortal souls were darkest, down on earth. And then, back in the Cave, she would make sure to sever those threads first.

This time on earth, she had landed atop some tall structure. A mass of sunbaked mud-bricks, stacked into a terraced temple. Surveying the scene below, she saw that this tiered pyramid stood amidst a temple complex, at the center of a sprawling city.

In many ways, this place struck her as similar to the kingdom of the pharaoh: vast lands, arid and spread with windblown sand, but also fertile by virtue of a wide river flowing nearby. Heavily civilized and populated, too—with city walls and small houses surrounding the central complex, framing a crisscross of close crowded streets.

She couldn’t focus on the cityscape too long. For a few men were beside her, frozen stiff—indeed, quite stiff, she inwardly snickered—at the sight of this stark naked figure suddenly in their sacred space.

When they finally spoke, it was in a different language from the one she’d heard in Mentuhotep’s realm. Of course, she understood this language just as easily. She gathered that, luckily enough, she would always keep this superhuman power while in human form.

“This must be Inanna…” one of the men whispered in awe.

“Or Ningal…?” another suggested.

“No, surely Inanna,” another inferred. “A creature of such beauty could not be anyone else—the goddess of love, and of lust…”

“But why has she appeared, upon the moon god’s shrine…?”

She had no patience for these flabbergasted fools, and so she shut them up. “I am Atria,” she announced, having settled on this name as the default for her human incarnation. She stepped down from the dais on which she’d landed, toward the trembling priests. “A mortal, flesh and blood. Sent from Inanna as a gift for your great king.”

She knew nothing of this Inanna character, but she figured that this introduction would quickly and easily get her into royal company.

“King Shulgi will return soon from his journey,” the high priest promised as he ushered her down a grandiose stairway, stretching from the summit of the temple to its base. “He sped off toward the city of Nippur this morning, set to return before dusk, for the evening festivities here. He is the swiftest-footed man who’s ever lived—you shall be a fine prize at the finish line of his amazing feat.”

Atria felt the eyes of the entire city upon her as she descended the towering stair. The priests had offered her a sash to shield her virtue, but her shapely limbs remained bare for the most part, beaming in the sun like burnished bronze sculpted to perfect proportions.

As the priest led her through the city, soon accompanied by an entourage of eager attendants and awestruck passersby, Atria learned that today marked a prominent lunar festival in this civilization. The two principal festival sites in Shulgi’s domain were the city of Nippur, some hundred miles away, and the city of Ur—her present location.

Apparently, King Shulgi was quite the athlete, and also quite an arrogant asshole: a winning combination for a ruler in this culture. He had decided to make a public show of his physical stamina by embarking on a round-trip run between Ur and Nippur, to be finished within a day. He could thus attend the lunar festival celebrations in both cities, to the pleasure and praise of his subjects far and wide. This was sure to enhance his political presence and power, cementing his place as king of the Sumerian empire, the priest explained to Atria.

An antelope could do the same, to no applause, she thought, personally unimpressed. But she made certain not to show it. Just kept batting her evergreen eyes, playing her role as a gracious gift sent to His Highness, from the Sumerian goddess of love and fertility…

…and warfare, prostitution, and whatnot. Atria learned that the lovely Inanna was worshipped for a far-flung repertoire of specialties. So this bitch was basically supposed to be a hybrid of Aphrodite, Ares, Athena, and probably the whole damned dozen of Olympian deities.

Inanna’s mother, Ningal, was allegedly the ‘Great Lady’ of the universe, but also just the goddess of reeds. And nothing else, really. She left all the fun stuff to her daughter. Ningal’s husband, Nanna, had a slightly better deal: he was god of the moon, in whose honor the Ziggurat of Ur—the monumental temple on which Atria had landed—had been built. Also, when Nanna met Ningal, the pair went off and made sweet love for two weeks nonstop in some swampy marshes.

Atria seriously wondered why these other cultures’ pantheons and divine myths had to make no fucking sense.

And she briefly wondered whether, from the outside looking in, the history of Olympus, and all the tales to be told of her own family of gods, would maybe seem no less nonsensical…

Her thoughts were interrupted when the king arrived.

Hot damn. This Shulgi wasn’t quite her type, perhaps, but he was something to behold. From the moment he appeared on the horizon, sprinting toward the cheering masses of his city, she could tell that he belonged upon a throne. The praise poems of Shulgi of Ur—some of which were being publicly recited in the moments leading up to his return—painted him out to be a born warrior, likened to a lion and a dragon and a bull, and all manner of mighty magnificent things.

And somehow, the man seemed to live up to the myth. Or at least to merit the level of awe that these lyrics inspired.

A part of Atria was actually disappointed, as the marvelous king approached. For till she had set eyes on him, her plan had been to kill him. She’d assumed he was a pompous bastard, full of wrongful pride.

But here he was. With every right to have a lot of pride, for he was fucking splendid. Her plan was thwarted, just like that.

The king slowed to a halt and raised his big arms toward the arching sky. No clouds today, to overshadow his accomplishment. The crowds of Ur erupted in applause; citizens sang out in admiration, adoration of almighty Shulgi. Fast as an antelope, indeed—and yet a million times more powerful, for all the deference and devotion he commanded from his people, across this fertile cradle of civilization.

He came toward the nobles assembled to greet him, among them the high priest, who presently proffered the beauteous gift to his king.

Shulgi approached her, his raven eyes ravished and ravenous. Sweat glistened on his brow, poured down the firm planes of his chest like liquid light, from the tremendous race he’d won against the sun. He had arrived well before nightfall, as planned. He didn’t even look exhausted. In fact exhilarated, even energized, from all of his exertion.

“A gift, from Inanna,” the high priest pronounced. “Appeared out of thin air upon the ziggurat. Flesh and blood, sent for your pleasure.”

The king was panting through an open-mouthed grin, rimmed by very thick lips, and through a large nose better described as a snout. Not exactly a pretty boy. Less chiseled than Atria’s typical taste, but everything about this meaty hunk of man exuded power—political and physical alike. It was incredibly attractive, in a feral sort of way.

He wasted no time, spared no modesty—reached out to grab one of her breasts through the sash, right here in public. She could get used to the customs of Ur. Her nipple responded instantly beneath his palm.

“Pleasure…” Shulgi echoed in a deep roar of a voice, his smile broadening at her palpable arousal, “…I could use some of that.”

Well, she couldn’t wait to sleep with him; he was much more appealing than the pharaoh. Maybe not for two weeks nonstop, like the moon god and his bride…

But a long time, many times, at least tonight.

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Hope you're enjoying our visit to Ancient Mesopotamia! King Shulgi was historically famed as a footrace champion, among other things - this run between Ur and Nippur (supposedly) actually happened :)

What do you think of Atropos/Atria's plan? Do you think she'll manage, or just get distracted by her mortal urges... :O

Next scene takes us back to Athens, where Cloe is about to have a chat with the mysterious Charliese... And if you liked this one, please don't forget to vote! :)