Important note: This story begins in 1987, due to Integral being twelve years old at the time. The Sandman comic series began in 1988, so the canon time periods overlap.


"My, my! She practically knits herself, this one does!" The blonde young woman – called Clotho, for now at least – leans forward to stare more closely at the threads of blue and brown and gold that twist and twine together in the older one's hands. "You are making her something special, aren't you? I wondered that you hadn't used the gold in a long while."

"I thought it would be nice, my dove. Isn't she going wonderfully?" The motherly figure – at the moment going by Lachesis – works quickly and speedily, feeding more into the shorter piece even as she brings a larger, non-descript piece of cloth to a close. "Such a strong and bold weave it is too; it'll wear well, no doubt."

"Not like this one." The oldest of the three, wrinkled and gnarled and warty – Atropos at present – opens and closes a pair of scissors closer to the thread, eager for the end. "I told you this one was a waste of yarn, from beginning to end. I could tell from the very weave you were using, but would you listen? Would you, my Aunt Banana!" She snips the thread, with an evident air of satisfaction, the blades snapping like the crack of a bullet fired from a gun. "And good riddance. Went on for far too long, he did."

The thread is cut, the cloth is finished. Lachesis folds it with one hand and lays it aside next to the tea tray, still intent upon the remaining piece.

"But then, in his weakness and flawed nature he's made this one all the stronger." Clotho regards the smaller cloth with a certain fondness. "I like her. She isn't so meek and mild now, you can tell. She'll not break or tear so easily. And to have that one serving her as well; she'll go far."

"So what? No doubt she'll make a mess of what she's been given sooner or later. They always do." Atropos lays down the scissors, her job done for now, and takes up the teapot instead. "Who wants what? We've got ginger snaps, fruit cake and a fortune cookie." Her eyes go to Lachesis, but the matron is still intent on her work, a small smile growing larger.

"I'll have the cookie, then." Clotho reaches out slender fingers tipped with black polished nails to pick up the item in question, breaking it open and reading out the fortune inside, as if she has done this many, many times before. "Since a mother's blood leads us, we will pursue our case against this man and we will hunt him down." She purses her lips in thought as she drops the fortune on the table."Did we ever say that, really?"

"Aeschylus needs will have it so, my lovely, and who are we to say any differently? It certainly sounds like us, in any case."

Atropos snorts as she pours the tea into three cups. "Keh. That squirt Orestes should never have got off. Couldn't even be prepared to take the consequences of knifing his own mother until there was no juice left in her, no, he had to go whining to that shiny owner of his that it wasn't fair." Her cracked voice takes on a mock whining tone, filled with disgust. "Not fair. What's fairness got to do with it? We were rightness and justice itself!"

"And so we will be again." Clotho takes her cup from the eldest, her pleasure gone now and her face creased with the knowledge of the past and present and what is to come. "We'll be called soon, won't we? It's been a long time since we took on this role. How long has it been? Tens of years? Hundreds? And never to plague a child before."

"Indeed, my pet." Lachesis sounds thoughtful now, though she smiles still. "But what's done is done. She's spilled blood to make herself stronger, and the fact that it was her uncle's will only make things more interesting." There's something in her voice that makes the other two look up at her from their mugs, as if there's something that she's not saying, but they don't challenge her.

After all, it will be interesting.

"Well, when the time comes, no holding back," Atropos mutters after taking a swig of tea. "Just because we have an interest in this and you two have a soft spot for her doesn't mean we don't do the job properly. We're rightness and justice, and she's a kin-killer. And soon someone will bring us down on her head."


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