#deukalion

It contains the temple of Apollo Leucatas, and also the 'Leap', which was believed to put an end to the longings of love. As Menander says, "Where Sappho is said to have been the first, when through frantic longing she was chasing the haughty Phaon, to fling herself with a leap from the far-seen rock, calling upon thee in prayer, O lord and master". Now although Menander says that Sappho was the first to take the leap, those who are better versed than he in antiquities say that it was Cephalus, the son of Deïoneus, who was in love with Pterelas. (Strab. 10.2.9)

Strabo is presumably quoting Menander's lost play The Leukadia. Unrelated to love but still interesting, Strabo continues:

It was an ancestral custom among the Leucadians, every year at the sacrifice performed in honor of Apollo, for some criminal to be flung from this rocky look-out for the sake of averting evil, wings and birds of all kinds being fastened to him, since by their fluttering they could lighten the leap, and also for a number of men, stationed all round below the rock in small fishing-boats, to take the victim in, and, when he had been taken on board* (alternatively: resuscitated), to do all in their power to get him safely outside their borders. (Strab. 10.2.9 continued) ~~ This might be seen as somewhat paralleling Pausanias 10.32.6 for those who are curious.

According to Wilamowitz 1913 (again see further reading below), Menander chose for his play a setting that was known for its exotic cult practice involving a white rock, and conflated it in the quoted passage with a literary theme likewise involving a white rock. There are two surviving attestations of this theme, in which falling off the white rock is apparently a metaphor for fainting (due to lust and wine respectively):

One more time taking off in the air, down from the White Rock into the dark waves do I dive, intoxicated with lust. (Anacreon PMG 370)

I would be crazy not to give all the herds of the Cyclopes in return for drinking one cup [of that wine] and throw myself from the White Rock into the brine, once I am intoxicated, with eyebrows relaxed. Whoever is not happy when he drinks is crazy. (Euripides Cyclops 163-168)

Sappho's legendary (and unfortunately fatal) leap off the Leucadian Rock to relieve herself of her love for the handsome Phaon (a figure that deserves a post of their own) is found also in Ovid's Heroines:

Here, when, weeping, I laid down my weary limbs, a Naiad stood before my eyes. She stood there and said: ‘Since you burn with the fires of injustice, Ambracia’s the land to be sought by you. Apollo on the heights watches the open sea: summoning the people of Actium and Leucadia. Here Deucalion, fired by love of Pyrrha, cast himself down and struck the sea without harming his body. Without delay love turned and fled from his slowly sinking breast: Deucalion was eased of his passion. The place obeys that law. Seek out the Leucadian height right away, and don’t be afraid to leap from the rock! (Ov. Her. 15. 165–220)

Finally, according to the mythographer Ptolemy Chennos (know for his bizarre stories) as quoted by Photius in his Library:

Those who leapt off the cliff are said to have freed themselves from erotic desire. And this is the story that lies behind it: it is said that, after the death of Adonis, Aphrodite wandered about in search of him until she found him in the city of Argos in Cyprus in the sanctuary of Apollo Erithios. She carried him away [for a funeral], having told Apollo about her love for Adonis. Apollo took her to the Leucadic Rock and ordered her to jump off the cliff. As she leapt, she freed herself of her love. They say that when she inquired about the reason, Apollo replied that as a seer he knew that whenever Zeus felt desire for Hera, he would come to the rock, sit there and free himself from the desire. Many other men and women who suffered from lovesickness got rid of it when they jumped off that cliff. (Photius Bibliotheca. 152-153. Bekker)

What follows is a long list of people who are said to have jumped off said cliff, some surviving while others not (in any case, quite darkly, all were relieved of their passions). Notably Sappho, the most celebrated leaper, is not mentioned.

The fact that Zeus is mentioned as only sitting on the rock and not hurling himself from it is interesting. Nagy 1990 (see below) notes the similarities between the Leucadic Rock and the "proverbially white" Thoríkios pétros ‘Leap Rock’ of Attic Kolonos (Sophocles Oedipus at Colonus). He also notes the double etymology of "Thoríkios" as derivable from the noun thorós ‘semen’ (e.g. Herodotus 2.93.1) as well as of the verb thrṓiskō ‘leap’ (which can also have the side-meaning ‘mount, fecundate’ e.g. Aeschylus Eumenides 600), and connects it with one of the myths that is said to have taken place on this mountain:

Others say that, in the vicinity of the rocks at Athenian Kolonos, he [Poseidon], falling asleep, had an emission of semen, and a horse Skúphios came out, who is also called Skīrōnítēs. (Scholia to Lycophron 766)

Poseidon Petraîos [= of the rocks] has a cult among the Thessalians … because he, having fallen asleep at some rock, had an emission of semen; and the earth, receiving the semen, produced the first horse, whom they called Skúphios. (Scholia to Pindar Pythian 4.246)

According to Bednarek 2019 (see below), in view of Ptolemy’s humorous intentions in his collection of weird narratives, the story becomes a sort of "sophomoric riddle": What cure does Zeus have to administer "repeatedly" (εὶ ἐρῶν … ἐκαθέζετο καὶ ἀνεπαύετο), while sitting down, presumably alone and in secrecy, that clearly only provides a temporary relief, and provides an aitiological name for the White Rock, to free himself from his desire?

This ass long-winded post just to make a fucking joke about Zeus having a wank. Worth it.

~~ Cape Lefkatas

Secondary Sources and Futher Reading (these are only the ones I mentioned in this post, apparently there's a lot to say on the subject):

Greek Mythology and Poetics, Gregory Nagy 1990. Ch. 9. Phaethon, Sappho’s Phaon, and the White Rock of Leukas: “Reading” the Symbols of Greek Lyric. https://chs.harvard.edu/chapter/chapter-9-phaethon-sapphos-phaon-and-the-white-rock-of-leukas-reading-the-symbols-of-greek-lyric-pp-223-262/

Levaniouk, Olga. 2011. Eve of the Festival: Making Myth in Odyssey 19. Hellenic Studies Series 46. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies https://chs.harvard.edu/chapter/17-penelope-and-the-penelops/

Bednarek, Bartłomiej. “Zeus on the Leucadic Rock. White magic of an obscene passage in Ptolemy Chennos.” Acta Classica 62 (2019): 219–27. https://www.jstor.org/stable/26945053.

And then it hits her. The color- the exact same shade as Alex’s eyes, and Aphrodite’s. The shape, reminiscent of a heart. The power, familiar.

Horror dawns on her face as she turns to look at Deukalion, but he only smiles- a little too wide, too many teeth.

“That’s the Heart. Isn’t it?”

“Isn’t it brilliant?”

Her palms are slick from sweat and she has to swallow down a lump in her throat. She tries grabbing her phone without alerting the half-titan, so she can message Alex or May or somebody-

But he sees, and he reaches out quicker than she can react, grabbing her wrist in in a painful grip.

“Don’t.”

His hold tightens on her until she drops the phone and he kicks it away from them before he lets her go. She rubs at her wrist, knowing it’ll be bruised later, but knowing just as well that it’s the least of her worries now.

“Apologies, Ms., I didn’t intend to hurt you. But you must understand why I’ve shown you this.”

She doesn’t want to listen to him, she wants to go, get out, get to safety because she can see it, now. It was hidden before, or maybe she just didn’t want to see it, but there’s a certain madness in his eyes, one that chills her to the bone and sets all her fight or flight responses off. And by his show of strength earlier, she knows flight would win out. But she doesn’t flee. She can’t. Not with the hundreds of other people around them, innocent. In danger.

So she humors him, hopes she can think of some way to get the Heart, to get away from him, to call Alex.

“...Why, then? And why hurt all those people by giving them the artifacts?” she demands. She may be sacred, but she wasn’t going to just sit down and let him steamroll over her. She had to learn something.

His smile widens and she supresses the urge to shudder.

“You see, Ms., it all started so very, very long ago...” he begins, and he tells her about his wonderful wife, his own children. His smile drops then, and anger rolls off him in waves. He tells her how Zeus was angry, and chose to punish the humans for it, how the gods did nothing to stop him, even as Deukalion prayed to them.

How Zeus killed his human wife, Pyrrah, with a great flood

And then he explains why he’s targeting humans- he doesn’t want them hurt, truly. But the gods will only come down if there is chaos that demands them to. And still they haven’t come. Multiple humans now, with an artifact of pure godly power, and no god has come down to stop it.

He tells her that the gods don’t care about humanity, and he has proven it.

She feels some inkling of sympathy for him, and almost reaches out, but stops herself. He’s dangerous. He’s not afraid to hurt people. He was wronged so terribly, but it doesn’t excuse that he’s left people for dead, not knowing if they would be helped in time. Her mind flashes to the man in the park, that nearly died from the artifact around his wrist. She drops her hand back down to her side.

Instead, she asks,

“Why me?”

His smile returns and that feeling that she needs to run away comes back in full force. She takes a step away from him, but he nearly closes the distance between them in one step.

Reaching up, his hands frame her face- not touching, but so close that she can feel the heat of them on her skin. She freezes, eyes wide, torn between cringing back or pushing him away.

“Because, my dear...” that madness in his eyes grows, and dread washes over her. “This is Pyrrah’s second chance.” He gazes deep into her eyes. “Your  second chance.”

And before she can react, he grabs Aphrodite’s Heart and thrusts it into her hands, closing them over it with his own.

He’s speaking again- saying something about getting his revenge on the gods with his wife at last-

But MC can’t really hear him, not beyond the singing of her blood, the thrum of power that threatens to crush her under its pressure, her skull threatening to split apart as something far more ancient than she overcomes her.

No matter how she fights against it, the power of Aphrodite’s Heart lashes out, throwing the half-titan away from her as a scream builds in her chest. The aura comes out in waves of deep reds and pinks, striking out at tables and walls and other art pieces, thankfully, miraculously missing any humans.

The scream rips out of her throat and she drops to her knees, howling in agony. Her hands shake and she tries dropping it, tries letting it go- it’s not like the other two artifacts, wound around a part of her body.

But she can’t.

It burns her hands and wraps around them, travelling up her arms so that she can’t release it. Her blood feels like it’s boiling beneath her skin, her ring burning furiously as it tries to form its own aura to protect her, only to be snuffed out each time.

She looks wildly around the room, looking for something, anything to help her, but the only one near now is Deukalion, and she won’t give the Heart back to him, even if it kills her. She couldn’t let him have it again when it was hurting the person she loves. Rather than seek out his help, she holds onto the artifact tighter, and nearly suffocates at the surge of power that results from doing so.

Fighting against Aphrodite’s full power hurts, and Alex’s words ring in her ears, above the scream of the aura.

“You have to stop fighting the power. It’s going to lash out.”

They were calm then, when they had said it. She holds onto that feeling, and uses it to anchor herself against the tide of power.

It takes everything she has to stop fighting it, but she trusts Alex with that same everything, and so, against every instinct that says otherwise, she stops her struggle.

Once she lets it go, that building tidal wave of aura grows to brilliant heights, blinding her. She closes her eyes against it, not that it helps, and curls her body toward the ground, cradling the Heart to her chest.

It almost hurts less, this way. Letting it flow through her instead of fighting it. She tries to hold onto consciousness, but everything hurts, and she can feel herself fading. The edges of her vision go black, and she barely has the energy to lock eyes with Deukalion- his expression horrified, a mirror of her own earlier that evening- before she passes out. Or falls into a trance. Or becomes... not herself.

She whispers a name,

“Alex...”

And the darkness overcomes her.

She isn’t sure what happens then, only that she comes back to her senses, however briefly, when HERA agents swarm the building, and the Heart leaves her hands (finally), and Alex is there, holding onto her... crying?

Somehow, she musters the strength to smile at them. For them. Weakly, but it’s still a smile.

“Thank you,” she rasps out, and she thinks she hears them calling her name as she slips back under.

Time passes differently, when there’s nothing to measure it by. She’s in and out of consciousness, mostly floating in an empty space devoid of anything. Sometimes she hears a voice, one that feels familiar to her, like she’s known it her whole life, but that she swears she’s never hear before. It whispers secrets to her, soft apologies, promises that she’ll be okay. It tells her that Alex is waiting for her, and so are Josh and May.

It makes her heart ache, makes her restless in that empty place.

It seems to like it when she gets restless- those are the moments when she wakes up, for a quick minute, even if she never opens her eyes.

So she tries harder. She misses her best friends, her brother. She misses her job and her home and her life.

She fights against the tide of darkness that sticks to her and tries to keep her in that space where nothing else exists. And she gets closer, each passing minute, hour, day- whichever one passes.

The voice continues to encourage her, but it’s only when she finally speaks back, and asks it a question, that the voice answers her. And it’s not exactly hope that jolts her back into the real world once it does.

“Who are you?” she asks, not fearing the answer, but dreading it all the same.

The voice takes a long moment to reply, but she can wait- she’s been stuck for this long, anyhow.

Then, softly, so soft she thinks she might have imagined it if not for the terrible sorrow that fills her entire being at its words

“I’m Hera.”

And MC wakes up.

Her eyes fly open, and though it hurts, she draws in a deep gulp of air, bolting upright. Her chest heaves heavily and sweat drips down her forehead, over her lips, and down to the hospital gown she’s wearing. A multitude of tubes and needles are stuck in her arms but she hardly notices as she moves on, looking around the room like everything will make sense once she does, until her gaze settles on-

“Alex.”

Her voice is weak and it hurts to say anything, her throat dry and aching from not being used, but she doesn’t care. She reaches out for them, only to fall back against the bed when that sudden bout of strength leaves her.

They stare at her, not fully believing that she’s awake, but then they grab her hand- covered in bandages- and squeeze, so tight she might wince if she had the energy to. Her vision blurs a little, but she hangs on, refusing to slip away again, not before she’s had a chance to talk with them.

“MC... you’re awake, thank the gods. I- I’m so sorry,” they say, their voice breaking as tears begin to crawl down their cheeks. “I should’ve been there. I should have gone with you.”

She makes a sound of protest, and rubs her thumb over their knuckles, shaking her head.

“Don’t. Wasn’t your fault.”

Alex looks like they’re about to argue, but they take one look at her face, all the resolve she has, and slumps in their seat. They don’t seem convinced, but she’s thankful they’ll at least wait for her to feel better before they bring it up any more.

“I’m so glad you’re awake.” They swallow, and their next words come out in a whisper as they press their lips to her hand. “I couldn’t stand to lose you. I... just want you to know that.”

Warmth radiates from their sweet, gentle kiss, coursing through her body in a comforting way, so unlike their mother’s power. Where her energy had burned and blazed, Alex’s soothes and comforts. 

“I’m okay now,” she says, trying to comfort them in return. She takes a painful breath- even that is starting to hurt more. But still she hangs on, not quite ready to leave them again. “Is the Heart...”

“It’s back with my mother,” they answer her, knowing where her question would go. They look back up at her, searching her face for... something. She thinks they must find it, because they continue after a short minute. “Deukalion was captured. He had a breakdown when he was hauled up to Olympus- or so I heard. I came here with you after arranging for the Heart’s safe travel back. The gods... are working to rehabilitate him. Once they realized he was lashing out from pain they inflicted ages ago, it only seemed right.”

“That... That’s good,” she murmurs, and takes another ragged breath. Her vision swims, and she can feel her grasp on consciousness fading again. “‘M glad he’s getting help...”

“MC?” they ask, concern bleeding into their voice and expression both.

She blinks, slow, her eyelids heavy.

“Alex... wait for me?”

She watches them, watches their breath hitch and the tears come faster- and then they smile, and it hurts her heart in such a way that she knows they mean their next words with their entire soul.

“Always. I will always wait for you. No matter how long it takes,” they promise, leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. It settles something in her, and all that pain washes away as her eyes slip close.

On the edge of consciousness, just before she falls over, she hears them say one last thing.

“Rest, now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And then she falls.

And falls.

And falls.

Until she’s back in their odd nothingness.

“Hera..?” she calls out, hesitant.

The goddess doesn’t respond, but MC can feel her there, in that same familiarity that carried through her voice before.

It’s almost comforting, to know she’s not truly alone.

She doesn’t try speaking to her again. Part of her wants to, but something intrinsic tells her that everything’s okay as it is, and she believes it. Maybe, she thinks, the goddess is resting, too.

At some point, she begins to stir again, or at least, it’s a similar feeling. Images flash before her very eyes, but something isn’t quite right about them.

They’re all painted in hues of red or pink, burning hot, deafening her with the sound of a beating heart. It pounds through her mind and her bones and her blood, calling to her in a way that makes fear clench at her heart. It’s like that moment with Deukalion, when all she wanted to do was run, but this is inside her head, and there’s nowhere for her to go.

Echoes of memories long past, that don’t belong to her, or even Hera, she thinks, fly across her vision- a man with a cruel smile that turned sweet for only her, an argument between her and her children, sorrow and loneliness emphasized by her empty estate, a child with bright eyes that hold a familar edge to them, hope and love that twists into grief when her mother dies, pain when she has to punish her youngest child.

“Aphrodite,” she gasps out, wincing as the pain doubles, bearing down on her, crushing her.

And almost as suddenly as it came on, it stops. Red is overrun by gold, its warmth kinder, reminiscent of the aura from her ring. It washes away all traces of those memories that had clung to her, and she feels lighter for it, as if that terrible darkness she existed in was receding at last.

Whatever traces of Aphrodite’s power were left in her fade away. It’s easier to breathe and she feels stable again. There’s a rumble from all around her, but she isn’t afraid of it, and trusts that when it washes over her, it’s doing something good. 

It seeps down into her bones, gentle, and as it does, something in her heals. The shadows of pain that had been haunting her are chased away, and she finally feels whole again.

Golden feathers float past her, brushing against her skin, beckoning her to follow. She does, walking with them until the light of the aura blinds her completely, and the world lurches around her.

One thought strikes her before she leaves- Hera. She was gone.

And then, she opens her eyes, and the world is more clear than it’s ever been,

Alex smiles down at her, eyes twinkling, and she braves a smile back. It’s easy this time, not draining at all- she feels refreshed.

“MC.”

They reach forward and take her hand in theirs, but there’s no painful squeeze- only joy that she’s awake again.

Their aura jumps from their fingertips to her own, and hers does the same, and it comes with the realization that her aura truly feels like her aura, now. Not something that comes from just a ring.

“Alex,” she breathes, and every worry she’s held onto since the art gala leaves her, nothing but pure, unadulterated joy in its place.

They push the call button on the bed so that a doctor can come in, but they take every second before their privacy is interrupted to kiss her- tenderly, with all the care and love in the world behind it.

When they pull away, they run their thumb across her cheeks, wiping away tears she didn’t know she’d been crying. They look at her as if she were the only other person in the world, and maybe, for that short little moment, she was. 

“Welcome back, MC.”

Nearly sobbing at their greeting, a fresh wave of tears come down her face, but they’re happy ones. She smiles so wide that it hurts as she reaches up with her free hand to cup their cheek.

“Thank you.” For waiting. For being here. She doesn’t say it, but she knows they know.

And then, they say something that catches her off-guard.

Words she’s waited a lifetime to hear, that send her heart beating wildly.