You will also encounter Shura Field after exile [Greek Mythology]

"Get me a ticket." Apollo said, "I'm going to watch."

"Get me one too, okay?" Hermes got out from below, with excitement written all over his face.

"It's fine." Athena said, "But Zeus is going too."

"Ah." Apollo was silent for a while, "But I still want to go, at worst, I just have a sad face."

"Me too," said Hermes.

Athena looked at the two guys.

"Go and ask the God of Dionysus." Athena said, "If you cause trouble, record it on his head."

"What kind of trouble can we cause?" The two replied in unison, "And you must have invited her. You are not afraid of such a big matter. You just treat us badly."

"Isn't it natural for me to treat you badly?" Athena said, ready to drive them away, and the two left resentfully.

"Give us one and it won't matter." They muttered in low voices, and Athena sat down, looked at herself in the mirror, brushed her hair, and was ready to go out.

It is a spring day, the weather is fine, the white clouds are stretched into slender threads on the blue sky, it is beautiful, and the flowers are blooming, the old tree crowns are topped with brilliant flowers, and there is a fragrant smell floating in the air, The whole world is submerged in the beauty of spring.

The first day is the ceremony of welcoming the gods.

The second and third day is the competition of the singing team.

The next three days are drama competitions.

The white-haired girl stood under the colorful flower tree, she hid her hair with a hat, looked at the man dressed as a goat with interest, she picked up a pale yellow lemon from the fruit stand, Put it under your nose and sniff.

"If you like it, I will give it to you." The stall owner said, and the girl showed a surprised expression, "Thank you."

"Actually, it can be soaked in water to drink, or poured on barbecue." The stall owner explained, "Of course it smells good too. There is a nobleman who buys a lot from me every time, and then puts it in a tank, filling the room. The taste will become better."

"It's a good idea, but it's too wasteful." The girl agreed.

"I thought you were also a noble lady, but the clothes don't look like it." The stall owner said with a smile, "But the noble lady does not have your fair skin."

"Ah, no." The girl said with a smile, "I am not."

"Then I'll give you another one." The stall owner smiled, picked up another lemon and put it in her hand.

Moros stood in front of a vendor, he was different from the people around him, he sold flowers.

"My lord, you really have a good eye. The things I have here are definitely the best in the whole city of Athens." He said, picking up a flower to show him, "Do you want to buy some?"

"What's this?" Moros asked.

"Sunflower." The vendor said with a smile, "it's the best way to express your hidden love. It is said that this is the fairy who became a fairy. There was a fairy who fell in love with Apollo and stood on the ground every day. Looking around, so it became this kind of words.”

Moros couldn't help smiling, this kind of flower seems to be older than Apollo's mother.

And as far as he knows, Apollo's love life has been bumpy, and no girl has responded to him so far.

"This one is also good." The vendor picked up a scarlet flower. "This is a rose, stained with the blood of Venus who scratched himself because of the loss of his beloved son."

This should also be purely a rumor.

But the flower is indeed very beautiful.

"What about this, water lilies." The vendor pointed to the flowers in the bucket, "Look at this elegant color, the dark blue is like a dream, it can be used to compliment the beauty of a lady, and the beautiful one is like a nymph fairy. "

"What is this?" He couldn't help pointing to a kind of flower on the side, beautiful and mysterious and elegant blue, delicate but tall and straight.

"Is this?" The vendor looked at it, "Usually only temples would buy this."

"This is the iris, which represents the sacred freedom." The vendor said, "So you like this?"

Moros smiled. "Give me this, please."

"For your lover?" asked the vendor.

Moros turned his head to look for the white-haired girl. The merchant followed his gaze and saw the girl standing under a tree not far away.

It was undoubtedly an unmarried girl, not only because of the light gray ribbons adorning her white skirt, she exuded a fresh and lively atmosphere everywhere, her complexion was so pale that it was almost translucent, her wrists had exquisite and beautiful arcs, With slender fingers, he picked up his slipped hat casually, every move was brisk and graceful.

"Is this a priestess?" The vendor couldn't help asking, "I've never seen such a woman except priestesses who can read and write."

"Or someone's eldest lady." He said softly, "Is this the woman you like?"

"She is not a lady." Moros said softly, "and she is not a nobleman."

"No wonder she doesn't wear jewelry and long hair," said the vendor, "but she is whiter than milk."

"I heard that those noble ladies never go out in order to keep their fair skin."

She is no longer a noble lady, she is a prisoner.

Also do not go out.

Moros thought to himself.

The girl seemed to feel his gaze, and turned her head to smile at him, her long frost-white eyelashes were smudged a pale gold by the sunlight, her smile was calm and relaxed.

No one believed that she was a prisoner, a prisoner who had been in prison for 1000 years.

No one will believe it.

She seemed to have thrown all those years into the water, as if no trace had been left on her body, she beckoned to herself, holding two golden fruits like showing off her spoils.

"Not a noble lady, nor a priestess." The vendor murmured in a low voice, "But it is indeed the strangest woman I have ever seen in my 40 years of life."

Feeling inexplicably that the blue irises should be given to her as a gift to the god of worship, the black-haired young man smiled, took the bouquet of flowers from the vendor's hand, and walked over, the girl seemed to show There was a slight surprise, and then he took his hand, separated from the crowd and wanted to run to the front.

A metaphor suddenly popped up in the merchant's mind.

The black goat, she was like the black goat who never behaved and was too energetic.

The scenery of the drama was moved from the street into the venue covered with black cloth. Someone stood on the high platform and shouted that everyone can prepare to enter the venue, please be orderly, and do not bring open flames.

A theater capable of accommodating [-] spectators slowly unfolded in front of Moros. The auditorium descending along the hillside, the vast stage in the middle, the curtain, and the backstage, everything was newly decorated. Athena seemed to have ordered the priest, They didn't mean anything about their admission, and even handed Moros a ballot to fill in the play he thought was the winner.

The girl walked up the steps briskly, "I want to sit a little behind, so it's higher." She made a gesture, and Moros had no objection to this.

Someone came out to organize order and quiet everyone, and the show was about to begin.

The girl held her chin, looking serious and serious.

"My lord Zeus, you have now destroyed the host of the proud Persians, and covered Susa with a gray melancholy.

Many women came to mourn, tearing the veils with delicate fingers, and soaking the folds of their breasts with wet tears.

Those Persian wives weeping, longing in sorrow for their newlywed husbands, forsake the soft curtains in which they can no longer enjoy the joys of youth.I myself utter this sincere lament over those who died in the army. "(1)

She tapped the beat with her fingers, as if immersed in some emotion, the queen in beggar's costume was crying, and the elders looked around, but only the ghost of Darius rose up.

To pity the enemy, instead of blindly indulging in the pleasure of fighting or plundering.

This is a good thing, she showed a faint smile and listened carefully to the singing of the choir.

"They no longer keep silent. Now that the restraint of violence is loosened, they will speak freely. Everything in Persia is buried in the blood-red sand on the island of Salamis."

Moros turned his head to look at the girl's side face. The morning sun was pale golden, pouring down from top to bottom, outlining the outline of her side face, long white eyelashes, and a small nose and chin. Like some kind of beautiful and sad picture.

The audience applauded.

The actors bowed at the curtain call, and preparations for the next play were underway.

The next one is about some sad mythical love story.

Apollo couldn't help stepping on Hermes' foot, "Why did they take 1000 years to film about my broken love?"

"Because you have broken up in love many times." Hermes said.

"You better shut up." Apollo said softly, considering whether to cover his mouth with his hand.

The two gods looked at the high platform on one side. They knew that the middle-aged man was Zeus. He was leaning on the railing and watching the play on the stage.

"There is no indissoluble bond between him and Typhon." Hermes asked softly.

"Probably not." Apollo said, "If there is, I'd like to see it."

"I think you want to build the city wall again." Hermes said, reaching out and patting Apollo's back. "If your skin is tight, I can help you loosen it."

It was noon, and the audience began to share a simple lunch. Prometheus took out the cheese and bread from the basket, spread the cheese on the bread, and took a bite. To be honest, she felt a little sleepy.

What's up in the afternoon?

"Audience, please return to your seats." The order maintainer said loudly, "Our afternoon show will start soon."

"Where is the legend of that god again?" The audience talked a lot.

"I kind of want to hear about heroes," said a man. "Achilles or Hercules."

"I want to hear from Cupid," said the people.

The announcer read a name.

The white-haired girl's eyes widened.

The dark-haired youth turned his head.

Every audience present can fully hear the announcer's voice.

He was right.

"Prometheus"

The author has something to say: (1) "The Persians" from Aeschylus

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