And so Hera called to the all-weather sailor Eurybia, called Her to ready Her sacred vessel and Her strong-muscled crew.
In Her peplos of blue and Her veil of green, most esteemed Hera boarded Her ship, the oarless trireme with sails spun from cloud.
Sweet Galateia laid Her charms on Thalassa, calming Her temper and permissing the divine ship passage to the furthest point. Where sky touches sea, heavens mingling with ocean.
One bare foot upon Virgin’s land, a spit of sand in the vast ocean, lead to two steps, and then a trail of blossoming footsteps.
The sea nymphs lingered by the first print, not daring to move closer until Hera had made a decision. The verdict was given soon enough, when Hera raised Her honeyed voice and sang their new home into being. Flooded land raised from cool ocean, the ruins of unknowns before restored by rocks chiselling themselves to shape as if unseen stonemasons filled the air.
Hera sung up the land over the sea, bringing up a paradise from the depths. A home with temple and square, homes and fisher huts, harbour and community, with lush glens and deep woodland. All flowers and beasts sprung from Her green footsteps, protected from interloping or wayward mortals by divine edict.
When freshly-unyoked Hera had sung the land into being, She waded from the new shore into the glass-flat ocean. She flung Her arms wide, dress floating around Her.
Hera Pais cried to Her beloved foster-mother.
Mother! Encircle this place with your river, waylay any who try and breach the bounds!
Tethys, loving Her foster daughter fiercely, laid an encircling and intertwining river around land over sea, so that none but those with the sign may reach the shore. She employed Her nereid nieces who rule over rough seas and fierce tides to stir up Thalassa, further dissuading unaware travellers.
[originally posted on my neocities] [divider credit]
