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The Moirae Conversations - Question Atropos strides to the bar and takes a seat. The bartender, a wiry man with salt-and-pepper hair, glances up as she taps her fingers against the counter.“What’s your poison?” he asks. “Hourglass,” Atropos demands. “I’m sorry,” The bartender shakes his head. “Don’t know a drink by that name.” “Fuck,” Atropos murmurs. “I have to do everything myself. I need your oldest whiskey.” “Of course.” The waiter retrieves a bottle from the top shelf an

The Moirae Conversations - Question “This question, only you can answer,” Lakhesis reminds Klotho. “I know, Lakhesis,” Klotho admits, her footsteps pausing as she lingers on the rocky shoreline. “I’m not ready. They’re not ready.”Another threshold of twilight paints the last streaks of sunset across the horizon. The sun glows in yellow, pink, and purple. The sea transitions into the sky until it is consumed by the black of night. The stone embankment slips beneath their feet.