A long, golden string is pulled out of the ball of cosmic yarn with delicate fingers. It shimmers in the Nether's ethereal lights, as only a god's life-strand would.

The three sisters sit together at their craft, and, for at least two of them, there is palpable unease.

Two pairs of eyes meet across their middle sister's unknowing shoulders, and silent dialogue ensues. The older set, with the accompanying lines of wisdom and age bordering them, widens knowingly with raised eyebrows.

Her opposing sister, as young and beautiful as she was aged and mature, looks unsure and nervous. A row of white, perfect teeth is seen biting a rosy, full lower lip in apparent agitation.

The eyes of the aging sister pierce those of the youthful one with a commanding look.

Finally, with effort, the youngest turns to her middle sister, busily weaving the shimmering golden thread into her work, and speaks in a quavering voice ripe with insecurity, "So..." A nervous giggle erupts involuntarily, "What the hell was that?"

The face on the still weaving sister twists down in displeasure, "What was what?"

Her answer is snappish and defensive, but her attention never leaves the loom.

The youth's eyes flit to her oldest sister for reassurance, too fearful to respond.

The aged one takes up the call of her little sister and counters with the same tone given by the middle, a wizened finger extended to the threads, "That, Lachesis! What you just did, what was that?"

Continually, eyes and hands with a millennia's amount of expertise fly over the weaving without ceasing.

"It's no big deal, Atropos..."

An air of offended sensibilities fills her answering sister's words, "No big deal? You know the rules! We don't help mortals!"

A momentary pause in the shuttle's weaving, "Well, she's not a mortal, is she?" Is the smug reply, and she continues.

Her sister regroups, "Well, no. But you know what I mean. We never interfere."

The youngest speaks up, "That's not true, we've helped in the past, adelphí!"

Her older sister turns, "Be quiet, Clotho, you're not helping!"

The one named Clotho throws her hands up in exasperation, "All you do is shush me! Why do I even talk at all? I'll just draw the threads from my skein for you both and let eternity pass me by in total silence!"

The oldest rolls her eyes, "Good idea, you should try doing that!"

The young one throws her sister a nasty sneer and turns to the other, "So, why did you help her? She's just a minor goddess..."

The middle-aged one shrugs, "She asked for our help. You can see she's lonely."

Atropos spits out, "So? There's lots of other goddesses that are lonelier than her that we could help, I mean, look at her mother...the ignominy..." She shakes her head in obvious disgust.

Her sister recoils at her words, "Ugh no. No one need pity her; she chose her path. It's wrong that she forces her daughter to share in her isolation."

"She's her mother, that's her right!"

Lachesis shakes her head, "No, she's not a child anymore. She should be given the chance to change things, don't you think?"

"No, I don't think! I don't see why we have to make it easy on them!"

The youngest looks between her other two sisters in obvious confusion, "Them? We're being easy on her mother, too?"

Clotho's ignorance of the conversation is too much for the eldest's patience. She snaps, "Of course not her mother! I mean him."

Lachesis shakes her head, "I knew you'd take it like this. I know I am not the only one who sees how lonely he is too. Apparently, Eros shot him so hard, he can barely do his job anymore..."

Her oldest sister's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"You haven't been talking to Thanatos lately, have you?"

There is a very pregnant pause.

A chin is lifted in defiance, "What if I have?"

She shakes her head, "I knew it...!"

"But he's our brother!"

"Stepbrother!"

She throws her hands out in mock supplication, "Ok, so? I can't talk to our stepbrother?"

The oldest begins pacing in a fury, occasionally throwing angry glances her sister's way, "Oh, it all makes sense now! Since he works with the guy, he thinks he can weasel favors out of us since we're family! The nerve!"

"He never tried to weasel anything out of me. Thanatos just happened to mention he noticed that things were weird at work. I mean, the guy barely sleeps..."

Atropos pauses her pacing to hold up a hand against her sister's words, "He's a god! He doesn't need to sleep!

Frustration and eye rolling.

"You know what I mean! I know you've seen how he looks at her!"

The eldest rolls her eyes and shakes her head, dismissing all romantic actions as sappy and ridiculous.

The youngest turns thoughtful, "So you decided to help her... because he likes to look at her?"

Uncomfortable shifting on Lachesis part. "Well…not exactly..."

Clotho's face breaks into a sly grin, "Is it because you wish someone would look at you like that?"

"No..."

Clotho gasps, "Or have you already found someone-!"

"Sister, that's enough!" Barks Atropos.

Lachesis shrugs, "I just think the girl deserves to catch a break, that's all."

Atropos crosses her arms in stubborn refusal, "I don't think the girl deserves anything, besides a quick snip from my scissors!"

"When do you ever think someone doesn't need a snip from your scissors?"

"You haven't been around as long as I have, sister. You haven't seen how mortals act-"

"Oh, sister! I already said, she's not a mortal! -"

Atropos stops her sister short, "Gods or mortals, they're all bad news. You answer even one little request in their favor, and they think they can walk all over you!"

"She's not like that! She's pure-hearted-"

"She's just as manipulative and greedy as anybody else! If we start granting everyone's wishes, we'll lose our credibility! Reduced to become..." There is a momentary pause where she shudders theatrically, "Fairy godmothers in the mortal's stories!"

Clotho gasps but Lachesis shrugs, "That's not the worst thing in the world..."

Atropos's face becomes hard. "No. There has to be consequences to this."

She pounds a wrinkled finger into her aged palm with every word. "There is always balance. The rest of existence needs to remember that the Fates are not their lap dogs. I've seen what happens when people get spoiled. When they get exactly what they wish, it's always for too much success, or too much money. When they're born too beautiful or too fearless..."

Lachesis crosses her arms and scoffs at her sister's words, dismissing them. But Clotho's eyes widen in fear, her voice softens to a whisper, "What? What happens?"

Atropos stands at her fullest, most intimidating height, and utters, "Hubris."

"No!" Gasps Clotho.

"You don't even know what that means!" Snaps Lachesis.

Clotho is defensive, "No, but it sounds horrible!"

"It only sounds horrible because our terrible sister makes it sound horrible!"

While the two sisters continue arguing, Atropos bends down in front of the cosmic loom. Her eyes scan the myriad of strings interlocking each other.

She begins to lift and pull various ones, a capricious smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Lachesis notices her.

"Sister! What are you doing? That's my job!" She shoves her out of the way, "Did you cut any?" She asks in a panic.

"No." Atropos calmly replies. "I fixed it."

The sisters lean in, studying the new pattern.

Clotho's face erupts in rapture, "Oh sister, you did! Oh, how romantic!" She sighs while her eyes fill with tears of joy.

Her opposite sister doesn't move, she's frozen in place.

Slowly, Lachesis turns and stares at her eldest in horror. Her mouth has turned dry.

"What is wrong with you? Why would you do that to them?"

Atropos leans back and crosses her arms in smug satisfaction.

"You see what I mean? Balance."