Of Cold or Welcoming Hues

Dreamless sleep was a saving grace. 

The heaven's tears were a medicine that cured the outside and inside of the fair body. 

Naïve little lady she was still, and a little lady she would remain until her soul stepped into the last platform of healing—healing from the blurry ardors of the past night and the betrayals she had endured. Pearly tears were now dried, and the sun had revoked the grays of the passing nimbus cloud. 

As her sleep ended, Athena slowly awoke with renewed glint in her silver eyes. There were no more aches. No more labored breaths—there were only the calm ripples of the pond to caress her skin and the distant birds' song that muffled her ears from her anxiety. 

A halo formed on her head as the sun rayed down with his golden light. There was an embrace of comfort as she stepped out from the waters. Wet and bare, yet the sun was a delight as he dried her down like a friend who had been there ever since. Athena looked at the scenery, staring at the trees and the flowers and briars—the garden was not as bad as she initially thought, though there was still the reluctant bliss amidst its aura. But in conclusion, sunshine dispelled the gloom that hovered above them.

"What is with these violets?" Tilting her head, Athena pondered. There was no hatred for such floral, for hate was a large and dark virtue, especially when she had made an abrupt decision to let the ominous memory of the night pass. But still, not withdrawing her sight from the unruly swarms of the flower, Athena felt a little dire sentiment towards the violets. 

Under a large tree, there she sat—wasting the morn until the moon caught her. Nothing was there to dally but only stare at the vast abandoned garden that grew to its jumbled rhythm. She repeated, "Green, violet, white, and blush," as those were the colors that the paradise offered. 

Sadly, it was a bore—a repetition that could drive a sane mind to madness. Somehow, Athena remembered the song Artemis taught her whenever she needed to call a flock of birds. 

"Well, this wilderness should have a little touch of fauna. What dull moments would it be if I plan to stay here and the place remains the same." She thought, pouting as she crossed an arm below her bosoms while the other rested to have a finger raised on the corner of her mouth. Briars and brambles were also a nuisance, glaring with their thorns as if they uttered a threat at her. "And with you, poor darlings that sore the sight," She pointed at the shrubs, "your time is up." 

But before she could pluck out those unwanted plants, she rose from her rest and sang the song that called out to the birds—

"Come hither, 

Oh, messengers of the heaven. 

Come hither

To the barren trees that wailed 

For companion. 

Come hither,

Oh, rulers of the clouds,

Flutter your wings

And let the Anemoi 

Blew you in my direction—

Where a paradise was deathly as death."

 A hope rushed within her. With the last line changed, Athena could only wait for her echoed song to be heeded by the birds. 

As the course of the wind suddenly changed, with her long and untamed curls blowing against her cheeks, distant choirs of tweets caught her attention. Looking up, a flock of sparrows came—singing back to her as they landed gracefully on the earth and the branches of trees. 

"Oh, you came!" She gleefully said to one sparrow who assuredly chose to land on her finger. "Will you please help me make this paradise livable once again?" 

The bird tweeted back, kissing her lips, and somehow gestured to its keens what Athena pleaded. 

And with that accord, all the birds acted as they tugged away weeds and thorns and plucked out the excess of the violet flowers. The garden was now beginning to be alive—crowded with flying and trotting birds that gladly obliged to bring the new blood into the veins of the megaron's paradise. Athena even laughed as she witnessed a comical fight between two birds due to an unfortunate worm they found burrowed under the roots of a patch of roses. 

"Silly creatures." She giggled while walking towards the commotion. "Now, no need to break each other's beaks. There may still be many worms hiding under the soil." She said in a gentle tone as she halted the ruckus. As she did so, another two birds hovered above her, placing a garland of violets on her crowning glory. She chuckled as she thanked them—even bowing to their kind gesture. 

One flower fell right on her hand while she composed herself. Feeling its petals and studying it, her mouth suddenly said, "Violets were of his—and mine were peonies." Her eyes became round as the moon, continuing, "Violets—violets were A—"

"Woof!" A bark reverberated throughout the whole garden. 

Athena was startled, promptly turning her head to where she suspected the bark had come from.

"Woof!" Another bark, drawing nearer and nearer. 

Emerging from the lush greens—appeared a brown dog, running towards her with a smile curving on its snout.

"Good da—oh!" Athena tumbled as the dog jumped on her, causing chaos among the working birds. "That is alright, little ones!" She told the flying creatures. "I am fine. No harm done. And now with you, a gentle beast with four legs—where did you come from?"

The dog barked back, deafening her ear. It then licked her face—showing its enthusiasm to see her. 

Athena noticed that her new acquaintance was male and had a collar on his neck, concluding that the animal belonged to someone. She went blank for a while, absorbing only the happiness of meeting the creature. She then laughed as the beast could not help himself with his high-strung emotion, rolling on the grass beside her and demanding to pat his head. The fair maiden did so and laughed even more at how he peculiarly responded to the pats and scratches. "Oh, you are such a dearie. Well, 'tis a sad reality that you cannot tell me your name, but let me introduce myself—my name is Athena."

He barked again, seemingly having an inkling of a word she said. 

"Yes, that is right," Athena confirmed with a beam. "I am Athena. I am from Olympus—a place I could best describe as magical, serene, and perfect. And I am—" She paused, ceased by the disruptive harmony of the memory of her past. "I—" Sweet tongue could not even roll the sentence that best fit her identity. 

Much like the two birds fighting for the worm, her mind was tugging on two sides as the other half proudly declared her title, "Pallas Athena—wise goddess, a strategist, the divine feminine of chastity and grace." While the other half was saying, "Athena of the thorns, Athena the damn, Athena the wilted, and Athena the walking disgrace." Nevertheless, sorrow must not conquer her now. The sun was high, the birds were trotting and fleeting, and in front was a dog who genuinely liked to meet her. 

"Well, I am Athena—I do love weaving and writing. Sometimes, I do sing, but only in secret." She finally shared, gracing her new friend with a warm kiss between his eyes. 

The dog panted in delight, giving her loving licks that caused the surprised maiden to fall on the ground and for the birds to go berserk. But with Athena's charming laughs, immediately, all went back in good rhythm—plucking more weeds and disregarding other unwanted flowers out of the scenery. 

Later, the unnamed four-legged friend hopped along the work as he removed much of the violets to their roots and other wilted flowers that no longer had their beauty. Athena sang a merry song while she collected the flowers and shrubs, broke them into tiny pieces, and buried them into a shallow hole she dug with her bare hands. 

"May this fill nourish this sad soil." She said while her hands were busy filling back the hole. 

Once done, Athena and her company looked back and sighed satisfyingly at the clean and harmonious scenery. 

"Look how breathable this place is!" Athena positively exclaimed. 

They all rejoiced with the result and made rest upon the trees and under the shade of the branches, savoring the new aroma their little paradise had given off. 

"Take all the sweet smell of new life! See the new colors where olive greens, browns, and warm colors drowning the overbearing violets." Soaring tweets responded, and the dog barked, agreeing with the optimism they all gained. 

With a eureka of win—championing by carrying order along the chaos, Athena thanked the lovely creatures and presumed rest as she sat between the large roots and leaned her head on the wrinkly trunk. Her eyes fell under the familiar curse of sleep, closing into darkness, and murmured gentle snores, not even wondering whether a dream might occur or a nightmare. 

But fatigue must pursue and let not all those mounting questions hinder such glory. In calmness, along with the birds' soft singing and a new dog companion lying at her side, Athena unconsciously cared for her breathing and the steadiness of her once-panicked heart. 

Nothingness was her paramour. 

The repeated coming of slumber no longer bothered her disciplined countenance. 

She may be a fool at that moment—a wandering mad woman who suddenly decided to sabotage someone's garden—but her aura of compassion resonated through and through. 

Though naked and bare to whoever might find her, with untamed hair down to the back of her knees, the maiden of the wilted rose only dared to succumb to her desperation and no longer had the thought of reclaiming the olden days' reverence. 

What became of her was all to be and would be in the coming days. 

Her past story was now of legendary status—a yesteryears' tale she could only forcibly smile while recollecting.