Bright, jolly, and everywhere the eyes laid upon was a whimsical delight. Every marble column glittered, every flower in full bloom—emanating their sweet aroma in the air. The deities were all in splendor, wearing royal robes decked with gold and precious stones that emphasized their individuality and elegance. Everyone was beautiful, all raised in eminence that justified their divinity.
The wine, ever so sweet and the pride of Dionysus, was delivered and poured into each golden goblet. The finest food was served and laid in the finest silverware and porcelains. Their laughs and singing echoed throughout the grand ballroom as most gods and goddesses were in their most euphoric spirits. On the other hand, Athena was sitting in a corner and began to regret her decision joining with the feast. Though grandeur, the aura of rambunctiousness that everyone caused was something she disliked. Athena chose not to mingle and stayed in her little corner, sitting, eating her share as quietly as the dreaming trees.
After a good fill, the isolated goddess did not immediately drink the wine that was given to her by a servant nymph. She stared at the crisp crimson liquid, sitting still in its golden prison. Her reflection showed nothing but a disdainful countenance to her surroundings that slowly turned into a jungle—loud and wild compared to Dionysus's alcoholic merry-making.
Her silver eyes, dainty curtained by her long lashes, painted this intensity as she glared at the opposite corner where Ares was talking to someone hidden behind the wall. She never forgets his petty threat during yesterday's meeting. She kept her guard up, sensing that something was brewing beneath the god of wars jest.
Fidgeting with her drink as she circled the cup round and round, Athena's tuned-out demeanor fell short when Artemis, with some of her forest friends, greeted her once she sat on a chair beside her.
"Good day, Athena." Artemis smiled.
"Goodness me!" Athena gasped once she noticed her. "What an entourage you have, Artemis. Good day to you too!"
"Well, I declare before you, Hellas's wisest and fearless goddess, that I regret coming here to the feast." The goddess of the hunt giggled. "Look at the brawling satyrs there; it is quite a nuisance! I cannot hear my little nightingale sing for me."
Athena looked at the little bird who was sitting on Artemis's shoulder. "Oh, what a lovely bird."
"I couldn't agree more. Come here, little nightingale," Artemis then ordered her little creature to move to her finger, "Would you mind singing for Athena?"
And with her command, the nightingale sang her beautiful song to Athena, who was all ears on her.
After her song, she felt some kind of vigor in her spirit. The silver-eyed goddess happily thanked the little bird as she sat back on Artemis's shoulder.
"Thank you, little nightingale." She said as she beamed.
"I don't mean to pry, Athena, but what were you looking at? Your mind seems to be wandering off somewhere far." Artemis wondered, though not wanting to sound quite forceful.
Athena said nothing at first as she sipped a little of her wine. After a small quench, she cleared her throat and said to the goddess beside her, "I was just keeping my guard up. Yesterday, as I was about to return to my chamber after we talked, Ares and I crossed paths in the hallway. A classic brute that he was, he threatened me—masking it in some kind of a jest."
Artemis frowned at what she said. "We had to keep an eye on him. Remember what I told you yesterday? This god was hiding something." She reminded her.
"I know. Never fret, my dear goddess."
The two goddesses talked the whole morn to midday. The celebration began to morph wildly that both could no longer confide in little corners of the ballroom. Artemis decided to slip away, unseen, back to her green terrain. As for Athena, she escaped back to her private chamber, burying herself with pottery works, writings, and perhaps a little weaving by the dead of night.
***
Keenness ravaged her whole veins as she sat in her crafting corner. Blackened vases lined neatly under her table, waiting for their turn to be ornate—decorated with either flora and fauna or figures from Mount Olympus to heroes from the earth below. At that moment, Athena was finishing a painting on a larger vase depicting the mighty father, Zeus, sitting on his throne with Hera by his side.
"Let us see what is lacking with this illustration." She leaned back and squinted her eyes to magnify the lacking details in her work.
Once she recognized what she needed to add, Athena finished some touches and ignored the joyful noise that resonated from the ecstatic gods and subjects.
Her work unceasingly blurred out the chaos that enveloped her like dark smoke. And as the time came running like a lion on a hunt, Athena paid no heed to everything—letting her mind and heart waltz until Zeus and Hera's image were perfect.
However, with Helios' descent and the rising hues of tangerine and dark blues of the twilight, the feast was getting louder and louder, becoming more unbearable to Athena's ears.
"I could have run to Athens and stayed on the quiet harbor." She gritted her teeth as she complained. She then raised both hands to cover her ears once she heard a disturbing noise, best described as two people intoxicated and at the height of pleasure. Athena knew not who it was, but she had a hunch that it could be one of the nymphs and centaurs based on the giggles.
"This is getting out of hand!" She scolded amidst the hubbub of the minstrels and the clamor of lovemaking outside her thick walls. "Ugh! I cannot take this anymore."
With that, Athena removed all her jewels, grabbed a cloak, and bid farewell to her owl as she decided to go out and leisure herself in the sacred forest just at the foot of Olympus.
To prevent some prying eyes, Athena tip-toed and carefully let herself blend in the shadows. From all the hiding and navigating small corners and secret passages, the wise goddess, at last, was out from the discourse of the night's festivities.
"Outside of the palace wall is serene." She said. "Well, farewell to that ballyhoo of a celebration."
Under the lovely light of Selene's halo, there went Pallas Athena, the busy goddess, glissading on small slopes like a gazelle until she reached the sacred Olympic forest. She briskly walked down while erasing some wearies and annoyance in her heart.
When the moon sat high on her seat, Athena arrived at the doors of the divine greeneries, glowing amidst the very contrasting plum of the heavens. A beautiful smile finally curved on the sides of her lips as she set eyes on the swaying trees and gliding birds on the horizon, especially when the aroma of gardenias touched her nostrils.
She giggled at nature's beauty. Her warrior spirit became a child as she hopped on the pavement toward the forest's entrance.
Noticing her ethereal aura, the creatures—small and big, on fours or the ones that fly; all greeted the goddess and guarded her way until she reached the sacred lake that carried the waters from the peak of Olympus.
Athena greeted the animals back with good graces and a cheery smile.
She walked along with them, admiring every bloom and shrubbery they passed. And midway on their little journey, she muttered, "Come, my sweets, it is a perfect night to bathe on the forest water. Perhaps we might be lucky if the stars would tell us stories too."
The heavens heard her wish.
The stars slowly changed their alignment, forming their ancient tales for the goddess and her friends once they arrived at the beautiful and bountiful banks of the river.