Crone

That gleam betrays her true intent. The harpy swoop down and cawed. Scavengers. Just like the Dutch, it is never enough. Just the iceberg of Davy Jone's locker, and she wants more. I am not a cash cow. Midas shiver to think if this ravenous harpy acquaints him. Apples of Idunn most likely stripped bare if not for the guardians. But what do to, the cow relents. We are all creations of Gaia. As much as I hate the goddess, her feet promises the kisses of heaven. The question is, will this cow ever graze the Elysian fields? Sent to Dante's butchery, more like it.