Eirene

With Clark bouncing between the Luthor estate and Metropolis, Eirene volunteers to take Rachel for safekeeping over to Queen Towers. Oliver Queen isn't someone she's met before, but Clark has assured her that two ladies making themselves comfortable in his penthouse isn't something the billionaire will mind. One of these days, she'd like to actually meet him.

Rachel is pacing back and forth across the room. "Eirene, I'm sorry for what you saw in Clark's loft." She actually looks embarrassed about it, which endears her a little further to the goddess. But still, "Rehearsing lines?" Eirene shakes her head and smiles, accepting the apology and the young woman in the same breath. Everyone wants to be loved.

"It's in his eyes. You're the center of Clark's universe. I've only seen love like that once in my life." The wistful tone has Eirene glances up again. "What happened?" Rachel makes a face, "The director yelled 'cut.'"

That's possibly the saddest thing she's heard all day, and is about to expound on that, thinking maybe she can give the actress an ego boost about her own self worth when the doorbell rings. Knowing that only key personnel have been told where they are, Eirene lets the production assistant in once he's verified he's got call sheets for the next day.

Which is when things go a little awry. Ben, the guy, tasers Rachel right in front of her, but instead of running, which would be the human reaction, Eirene kneels down to make sure she's alright, obviously confusing their assailant.

"Sorry, Eirene. But there's a hero living among us, and there's only one way he'll accept his calling. You need to die." He tugs her away from the prone figure, electricity dancing along the wires of his device, and begins tying her hands together.

Eirene sits on top of the grave, silently weaving her fingers through the grass. She has no idea what to say, only that it is important to do so before she leaves her night-long vigil. The occasional tourist passes by; it is early morning here, and not every keeps the hours that she does. After a little while, the goddess clears her throat, opting to ignore the tears beginning to slide down her face.

"It's been five years, Leo. I'm sorry. I should have been here each November, and there is no excuse I can give to make that okay. Here. These came from mother's garden," she moves a bouquet of lilies from her lap to the grassy mound before returning to quietly contemplating the bones under the soil.

Eventually, she stretches out on her stomach, face nestled against the grass. "I met someone, Leo. Finally. He's a farmer from America. Generous, big-hearted, impatient with the notion that some people are born better than everyone else. You'd like him, I think." Lips tremble, and Eirene finally reaches up to wipe away some of the tears.

"He doesn't believe in himself as much as I'd like him to, and carries around enough guilt on his shoulders to carry a whole planet, kind of like Atlas. He puts everyone ahead of himself, and tries to get people to see the good in themselves. I think Clark, that's his name, would have enjoyed sitting down with you and Mahatma; he's brilliant."

"I love him," she adds, after another long span of silence. Eirene remains there for some time, listening to the sound of the morning birds chirping, and the tourists reading from their guidebooks in dozens of languages. They cannot see her, standing guard over the man she considers the greatest novelist outside of her own people, which allows her to weep without constraint until the knot in her stomach begins to unravel.

Eventually she moves away from Leo's grave, weaving her way across the grass and back onto the forest path, a lingering scent of rain and roses there for anyone with the capacity to sense such things. This part of Russia is always gorgeous in late summer, and she thinks the writer would be very pleased with the simple landscape he was buried under.

Hands shoved into pockets, the goddess walks away, tears tumbling from her cheeks to become a trail of white flowers in her wake.

The lighting ceremony went off without a hitch; probably because no actual gods were involved in the process. Several of them, including Eirene and her mother, did watch as the torch was carefully lit from the sacred fire inside the temple of Zeus and then proudly marched out to the waiting masses (and tv people) so everyone could cheer.

It was now on its way to visit every host city in the world before returning to Greece in a few months for the opening of the Games themselves.

Eirene spent most of May either sitting in on Committee meetings when not out and about doing her duties, or playing with Mel who had grown slightly larger in the intervening months, and didn't get a chance to talk with many family members on subjects not involving the Olympics, so when Themis invited her to lunch one day in early June, she jumped at the chance.

When she walked away from her mother's home that afternoon, the personification of Spring left something behind.

Her fertility.

(At least she can retrieve it someday, if one of the major fertility goddesses agree to restore what was taken, but the loss is going to nag at her for some time.)

"Where have you been?!" Isn't exactly the first thing Eirene figures to hear after unlocking the front door and stepping inside her own house, nor does she expect to see a thin layer of dust coating absolutely everything. But that little mystery will have to wait until her mother stops glaring at her.

( Motherly lecturing this way )

By the end of February, Eirene has forgotten what the word 'relax' means, along with the rest of the family who are involved in this enterprise. But it's all worth it -- the Games are returning to Greece for the first time in centuries, and no one -- not man, woman, child or god -- is going to let their beloved country, or the world, down.

The Door opens onto the terrain at the base of Olympus, as always, but this second visit is slightly different than the first. They won't be hiking up the sacred mountain, not unless Clark wants to see it again, and the landscape is ordinary. Aside from being gorgeous and Mediterranean, anyway.

"Come on, my house isn't too far from here."

Eirene's smile isn't quite as blissful now, and the totally euphoric feeling has -- actually not disappeared, just lessened slightly.

9 August 2000

Goma; Near border between Democratic Republic of the Congo, and Rwanda

The heat is almost unbearable, judging by the dehydrated condition Eirene notes about the newest groups of stragglers to come into the refugee camp she's set up. Hourly, it seems, people stagger in - many of them mothers with several children under the age of ten, and most of them look malnourished. There are only two volunteers with her on this mission and both of them are scouting the perimeter looking for the soldiers advancing towards their location. Because Dike and Nomi have no problem with carrying, or using, weapons on behalf of the mortals in their care.

Eirene only wishes she could, especially after the reports from just two days ago, that military forces had burned another village to the ground, abusing and murdering at least half of the inhabitants, including young children, and taking any comely females for entertainment value. She can't remember the last time she --- that's not true. The last time she slept was back in the bar, and it was only for a couple of hours before heading out to have a hand in the creation of a special garden in Denver. That endeavor took less than three hours, but it provided another link in America for her - each garden now stands as a beacon to alert her if something goes really wrong in the vicinity.

That was a week ago and the blonde knows that even gods occasionally need rest. It'll be hours yet before she can, once her sisters come back from placing warnings around their camp, and she really doesn't envy the person that gets Dike angry - Justice has been known to carry a sword before, and wield it expertly.

* * *

10 Aust 2000

Six hours of sleep, dozing in one of the tents sent aside for the children, makes a great deal of difference when a person is escorting almost three hundred DRC refugees across the border into another war-torn state. From Rwanda, other (human) agencies can get the survivors out to other countries, where they can start over. Sadly, many of them will never see husbands, wifes, brothers, sisters or other loved ones again, along with the villages families have lived in for generations.

Eirene walks near the front of the pack, Nomi near the middle and Dike bringing up the rear with the few men who elected to come along and protect the women and children instead of joining the militias to fight for their country. The border is just over the next ridge, and they will be crossing at a point that shouldn't give them too much trouble with border guards (rumors abound in the south that no one is being let through).

Those rumors are quashed the moment she steps over said ridge and eyes the run-down station manned by what appears to be one lone guard. Her stomach twists. There is no way just one person would be left here to man this area when a war has been going on for the past few years. She can make out UN trucks in the distance, held back by militia forces from the other side.

Oh no they don't.

After a hurried conference with her sisters, Nomi and Dike begin whispering instructions along the refugee line, explicit steps that have to be obeyed to the letter. When Eirene is sure that everyone, down to the toddlers clinging to their mothers (or sisters) skirts, knows what he or she is supposed to do, she moves deliberately towards the barricades without anyone else.

"Stop where you are. Go back. Any attempt to run the border will result in punishment."

She keeps walking, refusing to stop when they threaten through the bullhorn a second and third time. When they open fire on her, she staggers just once (bullets hurt, even when the damage heals rapidly) before continuing on her course, bare feet echoing strangely over the bloodied dirt. When Eirene nears the actual barricades, with barbed wires and what appear to be hastily set down land mines, she pulls a manuver that is rarely, rarely done in the modern era: she removes her mortal veil, and allows the radiance of Her presence to push back everything that reeks of Ares and his warmongering. Mines, barbed wire, grenades - nothing hateful is allowed to remain in her presence.

The soldiers open fire again, so many bullets slamming into her that the once-pristin chiton resembles red Swiss cheese in the half hour it takes for Peace to keep their attention long enough for her sisters to smuggle the entire 302 survivors across barely a mile south of where the gunfire sounds and into the waiting arms of UN Peacekeepers.

Eirene knows the instant that her charges are safe and floats slowly to the ground, expelling the few bullets from her flesh that were not summarily disintegrated on entry, leaving behind only the impact bruises each made; mostly a dull, mottled collection of blue and purple marks across visible skin. She fades away soon after, leaving behind an eternally green laurel wreath.

With three hundred lives saved, Eirene can only think of one place to go and nurse her injuries until they heal properly.

Eirene kicks at a rock, her face set in a thoughtful scowl, and watches it bounce across the dirt lane only to vanish into grazing land beyond a dilapidated fence. The last week seems to have taken its toll on Clark and she's not even sure that her reason for talking him into taking her to Smallville is valid anymore. Chloe doesn't even remember her, not as the friend Eirene had hoped she'd turned into. So many deaths in so little time, it isn't a wonder that Clark opted to hide in the loft, and she can't blame him for the desire to set things aside for a little while and just exist.

She's beginning to wonder if he even heard her come in and let him know she was going for a walk. Probably did, with that super-hearing, but he didn't seem like he was paying attention, another thing she can't fault him for.

Well, that's what this little stroll down a country lane is for: thinking. For tonight she's borrowing the guest room at the house, and tomorrow Clark will probably suggest she return to Milliways. It's not something Eirene wants to do; abandon him when he needs someone just to be around, but she's also never overstayed her welcome.

She's also not paying attention to the road behind her, so when the old Caddy veers and hits her, all Eirene feels is a sudden burst of pain across her back, and something break inside when she lands just past the base of the ancient oak a few feet away. The car, and it's elderly driver, end up ramming right into the tree trunk, its horn blaring uselessly.

Thump-thump-thump-thump, thump thump thump thump...

While the Smallville Mall looks deceptively tiny on the outside, it is packed with enough shops to make a sizeable dent in the cash Eirene has on hand, along with racking up charges on one of the credit cards that Eunomia was kind enough to provide for her use.

This is precisely the reason that Eirene, and Chloe, struggle through the rear entrance to the Talon, loaded down with enough bags to keep an entire orphanage in clothing and other items for a whole year. But the giggling, and the free makeovers at that one counter, and the sighing over lovely fabrics, and really, the bonding made it all worthwhile.

"Maybe we should have rented that cute guy at the arcade to carry this all in for us?" Because the slightly shorter blonde is convinced her arms will fall off at any second.

She is up long before Eos even thinks to climb out of bed, or Helios begins his slow rise to waking. Bare feet push down against the tangle of dirt and grass that serves as an echo of her mother's garden. Eirene has returned to Olympus. The streets are quiet now, as they have been the last handful of times she has come, so the goddess takes her time descending towards the gates, her footsteps timed to coincide with the faint brightening of the horizon.

The moment she stands behind the gates, Eos soars above her in the sky, heralding a new day and the approaching glory of Helios and his sun-chariot. Eirene waits patiently, watching the sky develop into a clear, light blue, until a flash of gold sails above the mountain's top and the Titan emerges to chase the fleeting traces of Nyx awake. There is a faint smile on the face of the goddess watching below, her chin lifted towards the clouds high above.

Spring has arrived.

The gates swing outward now at a silent demand and Eirene darts forward, turning towards the East and its great mysteries. There are ancient treaties in place with the deities of other lands that give those who rule over this season right of passage on this day only without being stopped and interrogated. Even so, they are not on her mind today as nimble legs take her down the mountain path she always uses, soon joined by any number of satyrs and nymphs, dryads raining down blossoms to pave her way with flowers.

In less than an hour, she has left Greece behind, hair streaming behind her like a banner, and runs right across the Caspian Sea into the southern tip of what used to be the USSR. Russia. Rus. Vikings. Her entourage has fallen behind, left somewhere in Turkey to make their own ways back to the sacred mountain, and while Eirene does occasionally wish for company on these annual treks -- she will not complain about her current observers - a dove soaring high above her.

It, too, veers away when she reaches China, darting through the rice fields and busy city streets alike -- Eirene runs through walls when she needs to, and no one is ever the wiser. She pauses momentarily on the eastern coast of Japan, gazing out at the blanket of ocean before her; its blue waters barely a shade darker than her eyes, feasting on the visual magnificence of all creation, and then she surges forward again, running lightly across the surface of the Pacific until she is nothing but a blur to mortal eyes. Fellow deities, any who might be awake, will probably see her as she passes.

Peace reaches the western tip of Hawaii barely three hours after she started her journey, and the coast of California barely an hour later. As with all the lands she has already moved across, her blessings fall on the flora and fauna that populate Gaea's surface as the incarnation of Spring. As the fertility goddess she fully becomes on this holiest of days, her presence may inspire a conception here and there amidst the human population that settled this continent so many years ago.

From Monterey to Denver and Charleston, her presence sweeps across America, kindling peace, love, understanding and rebirth, and the reverberations given back -- because people tend to send out good vibes when they're happy -- lift her right into the sky, until she's dancing on air with her arms open towards the sun in homage.

It's hours later, almost mid-afternoon when her feet once again touch soil, bare toes wriggling happily in the dirty street in front of her own temple. Ara Pacis. Altar of Peace. She strides up the cracked steps, noting that someone tried to sweep out some of the dust and dirt from what is now considered a crumbling relic of the Roman empire, and it's so easy to visualize what it once looked like -- the bright murals, the flowers, the children playing hide and seek just outside while their parents left offerings. There are a few now, older women who cross themselves with the sign of the more modern religion but leave flowers to the 'Lady of Peace' anyway.

Eirene leaves the temple a short while later, skipping easily across the waters to Greece. It is here she wades into the sea with an offering of flowers and blood (her own, palm nicked by the sharpest rock she could find). Mother Earth, Gaea, Grandmother, is also given her offering of blood to avert the End for another year. Tradition. Old habits. The walk back to Olympus takes only a short while, so she can dance with the nymphs and dryads and satyrs and celebrate the awakening of Earth.

A god's definition of time differs remarkably from a mortal's, so it is barely noon when Spring excuses herself from the ageless, frenetic dance and heads toward the shack at the bottom of the mountain. Inside she will find family and friends, and the chance to enjoy herself.

After being unpleasantly surprised by a relative, and getting Clark back to Milliways safely, Eirene picks her way back up the mountain, and slips through the gates for the second time that day. If Phobos wants to have a chat, he'll do so here. On her terms.

She takes her time wandering through the buildings now, and occasionally takes a break to rest in places that she hasn't gone in centuries, like a garden that her mother was particularly fond of near Zeus' temple. It is there she curls up on a bench and waits, eventually drifting off into a half-doze.

It is where Phobos finds her several (mortal) days later, carefully easing her onto his lap with the tenderness one normally reserves for infants and small animals. For several moments, it is just the two of them on top of the world, until Eirene stirs in his arms and murmurs another man's name. Awareness flowers into full being the moment her legs and elbows connect with the ground, an angry god towering above her.

"Who is Clark? That human?" To judge from his expression, Phobos had expected to hear his name, though Eirene isn't quite sure why. She climbs to her feet, dusting off her robes absently, and not at all paying attention to what the younger deity is doing. So it comes as something of a surprise when she's suddenly backed up and pinned against the wall.

"You are mine, Eirene. We will be wed after the equinox and I will not tolerate infidelity on your part. Do you understand me clearly?" Eirene would love to point out that it's kind of hard to say anything, or even nod when his hand is wrapped around her throat, but, well... there is the matter of his fingers trying to squeeze the air out of her lungs.

She can't even fully defend herself, or break the sacred tenants of her own duties. "Let--- let me go --- Phobos. I am not yours yet."

In hindsight, it's probably a bad idea to spit in his face, but that's exactly what she does, his grip loosening in surprise long enough for her to wriggle free and run. The goddess flees down the main avenue, the one that winds from the gates to her father's temple, trying very hard not to wish that, for once, she was not the goddess of peace but something more martial. It stops her in her tracks, that horrible thought, and allows Phobos to catch up and knock her to the ground with his first blow.

Eirene stumbles down the mountain path sometime later, aching everywhere and sporting a fair number of bruises beneath her robes. Phobos was gone when she regained consciousness, and the only place she can think of to go dwells in the hut at the bottom of the mountain.