"As for you, Master Bacchus, I find you to be deceitful in this matter. I would have you accompany Master Vulcan. For six months you will serve him. And he, in that six months, shall teach you the rudiments of his art. Now, begone, for Cerberus' pup grows hungry."
Was I right? Demo questioned himself. Perhaps, after all,
Bacchus did paint the scene. What would Zeus have done?
Ah, Zeus would have done much the same. And, being Zeus, he'd be right by definition. So, of course, as Zeus' surrogate I too am right by definition.
Demo smiled. This God stuff wasn't too bad at that.
So he thought!
Children are lovable. As babies they, sweet and cuddly, invite one's kind adoration. As toddlers, though underfoot, they laugh and chatter, bring brightness into our dull lives. Older, they play, are now defiant, now dependent, as they seek to find their place in the world.
Then, there was Cupid. Not quite the child. Yet not an adult. Ever with the prankish nature of youth. Armed, nevertheless, with a bow. Armed with arrows of the most pernicious kind. Sly, at times. Open and outgoing at others, he shared the faults - and the virtues - of his mother, Venus.
The second day started off nicely. Demo gave the world a little extra twirl, and it hummed along smoothly. He did note a slight wobble, and gave it a slight extra spin to compensate.
He checked the progress of the sun, the positions of the stars, and kept a weather eye on earth and underworld.
No problems surfaced.