Chapter 6: Orchard

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Chapter 6


In the verdant expanse of Ancient Olympus's gardens, under the gentle caress of the midday sun, a gathering of entities took their leisure. Enshrined in the emerald embrace of lush foliage and vibrant blooms, Ouranos, Thalassa, Hemera, Pontus, Gaea, and Erebus were seated on a crescent-shaped marble bench, their figures arrayed like constellations in the heavens.

Each deity was adorned in attire that befitted their godhood, their chitons and tunics that seemed to dance with the light, each strand of silk woven of Perseus's unparalleled vision.

The Protogenoi lounged back in languid repose, sipping softly glowing auric nectar and nibbling on ambrosia snacks that tantalized their palates. This was more than a pastime for these deities; it was a social respite, a time for connection and reflection away from their boundless principles.

Unlike Perseus, their youngest relative, these immortals harbored no ambitions beyond their own divine existences. They did not train or strive like him, for they viewed the world not through the lens of mortality but through the prism of eternity.

Despite their detachment, they were not malevolent. The Protogenoi held Chaos and her creations in high esteem, celebrating Perseus's endeavors and supporting him, even if they couldn't fully comprehend his mortal-influenced perspective.

Hemera, swathed in a chiton that shimmered like the rays of dawn, was the first to break the comfortable silence. Her voice was benign, imbued with admiration. "Is it not wondrous? She began, her slender legs swinging idly.

"I speak of Percy's passion. How commendable it is, the manner in which he sets..." The goddess squeezed her eyes in concentration, "oh, what are those things called?"

"Goals," interjected Gaea, her voice gentle as she nodded sagely.

The Goddess of the Day pointed at her aunt with a spark of recognition, "Precisely, goals! They are akin to principles, yet distinct... The concept is difficult to illustrate." She concluded with a note of puzzlement.

"But such matters not," she continued, the word curling off her tongue. "Does this tunic not enhance my lusciousness?"

The others nodded in agreement, their expressions softening as they recalled their own experiences with Perseus's extraordinary abilities. The young goddess's words resonated with them, echoing thoughts they all shared but had yet to voice.

"Yes, well, Ouranos," Pontus began, clad in a chiton that flowed like the depths of the sea, "you remember when Perseus created those winged spirits, do you not?"

Draped in a fabric that mirrored the mixture of the baby blue skies and its dotted white clouds, Ouranos remained silent, his gaze lingering on the horizon.

Pontus continued, undeterred by the silent contemplation of the sky father, "They are wholly unlike the common godling; these beings are already reaching into adulthood despite existing a scant few millennia! Consider, when Perseus first breathed life into them, he himself was naught but a child."

With a hand as nurturing as the soil itself, Gaea tenderly caressed Pontus's back. "Well, Perseus has now reached into the field of adolescence now that he's older."

She spoke with the depth of the earth, "I've heard from him that the Daimones' swift maturation owes much to their early blessing of principles and low energy, which grant them a pace of development far surpassing that of the Protogenoi."

Thalassa smiled, her eyes shining as her head filled with pictures of the angels, her voice brimming with fervor. "Ah, the Daimones! They are so precious, so ethereal and bright. One of them, the maiden with curly chestnut brown locks, Hebe, gathered these marvelous seashells on the shore for me in the last century!"

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