[ WP ] You declare to the heavens that you will never fall in love . Aphrodite herself took it as a challenge .

Part 1: The Lovely God Meddles. 
 
 Darsius was done with women. 
 
 *Lousy, thieving, harpies, who steal your life... Damn creatures, who claim to be your wife... * 
 
 *I will never remarry. Aphrodite be my witness, I wo n't be fooled again! * 
 
 He slept fitfully in his bed. The cold sensation of someone he was used to having beside him absent. 
 
 Morpheus came, a winged daemon with a sack of yellow sand, and looked down upon the figure. 
 
 It sprinkled some sand over the sleeping mortal. 
 
 **I Have Opened The Path To His Dreams, Cousin. You may work your craft now..** 
 
 *Thank You, Cousin* trilled a bell like entity. 
 
 -- - 
 
 This is a land, of dream, and myth. 
 
 Darsius was a wealthy man in this realm. His palace was magnificent, and the colours were vibrant. 
 
 Whilst in reality the sculptor led a harsh life, struggling to survive on his craft alone, in this place he barely had to work to be rewarded with lavish feasts. 
 
 However, Aphrodite noted with pride, that even in his dreams, the sculptor had crafted great works of beauty, many of which had been of the gods lives. 
 
 Some were a bit risque, such as the situation with Zeus and Hera challenging a genderflipped mortal to report to them on who has the best orgasm, a man or a woman. 
 
 There was the birth of Athena of course, fully formed from Zeus' brow... 
 
 The trials of Heracleós, he who sought cleós, or worthiness, from Hera. 
 
 And there was Aphrodite herself. 
 
 Not many tales, actually. It was as though the man had lost his sense of love and respected the goddess only as a goddess, and not in relation to her Domain. An Agnostic outlook. 
 
 This would n't do. 
 
 She snapped her fingers, and a Muse appeared. 
 
 `` What do you want, Aphrodite?'' the diminuitive protodeity growled. 
 
 `` This sculptor has lost his love for love, and focused it into his craft. If you inspire him to create a beautiful statue of a woman, I will make her live and breathe.'' 
 
 The protodeity's fangs shortened as its shapeless form changed to something not unlike a young woman. 
 
 `` Something like this?'' it offered, yellowed eyes blurring into a marble white. 
 
 `` Exactly.'' 
 
 -- - 
 
 
 The next morning, the sculptor decided to make his finest work. A personification of beauty, inspired by dream. 
 
 He rubbed the dust accumulated around his eye, and went to his work station. 
 
 *This... Galatea... She will be beautiful. Wise. Faithful. Everything a real woman is not. * 
 
 Aphrodite just smiled, and steepled her fingers from her viewpoint in Olympus. 
 
 Everything was going according to her divine plan.
