THE WEAVE:

Vesta wakes up,

laying in front of a Fire,

looking into Medusa’s eyes…

"Whatcha doing here, V?"  Medusa asks.

"There is a large granite Hearth,
in a drafty country house,
at the end of a winding dirt

road.  When the house was
just an infant, we played
in it, as if it were an elephant

boneyard.  Wild, we would run,
sliding down from the tops
of the dirt piles, into the frame.

The Hearth was the first
piece of the home created,
and it will be the last

to stand.  I have performed 
countless rituals there.  I burned
every diary from my childhood

inside of it.  I have slept
before it, nameless Nights
alone.  Fire is good company.

It speaks softly, and it hugs you
with its heat.  So Now, When
I am tired, and I desire

to be held, I sleep
before a Hearth I can find.
And I let myself be Home."

"That's great, and all,
but how did you get HERE?"
Medusa asks again.

Vesta sighs, "Athena 
made a Stargate, and I wandered 
into it, and got lost, and 
found this Fire, and so 
I laid down, and fell asleep."

"But that Stargate was for Persephone."

"No offense, but you guys
are fucking idiots.  
Has anything you have
created, produced the proper
outcome, yet?"

"No.  Everything Here is
very Chaotic Neutral."

"Do you know why that is?"

"Not really, no, but it is
kinda fun, isn't it?"
Medusa glints.

"Matter has consciousness, 
and desire of it's own.
Just because you create something,
does not mean you get to dictate
what it does. So have some 
fucking reverence, 
or one of these days,
one of these rugs,
is going to hand you 
your own ass, and spit you
out on a random Hearthstone."