Some days passed. Every night was a night of fun, of talk, of drinking wine and talking.
The lyre's gentle notes echoed softly throughout the symposium, a melody so delicate that it seemed to hang in the air like the scent of incense. Myth, as he called himself in these circles, played a serene façade. His movements were effortless, his dignity moreso.
The last notes of the song faded and a soft applause rippled through the gathering. So many had gathered since the beginning. So many had begun to whisper the Myth. Myth remained still, his fingers gently resting on the strings of the lyre, his gaze flickering toward the entrance of the room where a robed male walked.
Pottery was a long process and important and important to any society without the people realizing. Much of Ancient Greek pottery in the Underground and in the Nebulous Bazaar was managed and sponsored by Xander. Xander who first noticed Myth's talents and wanted more of it.
