Feeling calmed, Hephaestus nodded as his daughter stepped out into the side chambers of the Undercity.  Waving his hand, his will slid a metal table across the marble floors to him bearing a pitcher of ambrosia.  Hephaestus had a dark side, as did many of the immortals, and part of his was his tendency to drink too much.<br/><br/>Though the main chambers were large and kept clear for the immortals themselves, other areas were more populated.  The Faithful were those aspects of mortal culture which served the needs of the immortals.  The tasks of the immortals were important... banishing chaos from the tightly coiled mechanisms which made up creation.  They needed aid from time to time, and this was were the Faithful did thier part.  The Faithful were processions of generations which have been helped personally or saw the benefits of close proximity to immortal magics.  They had thier rules... no technology among the immortals... they had to dress in archaic styles and avoid modern mortal idioms, but even with these strictures a thriving society florished which acted as the support system even immortals come to need from time to time.<br/><br/>The less restricted passages were crowed with small groups wheeling carts with live goods and supplies.  Immortals and thier tastes could be quite demanding.  Only the best included dates from a specific oasis in Iran or silks of a certain species of worm only found in one marshland in China.  Technology was a bane for such ancient and unchanging beings to the point it was concidered offensive just touching materials processed by modern chemicals and iron machines.  It was easy to move up and down these passages unseen if an immortal took a few percautions.  For Calista this was her white hair which if even a whisp of it was freely seen would give her total power over any man's minds who happened to notice.<br/><br/>As she made her way unanamously through the crowds, a strange breeze could be felt.  A tiny cloud of tiny multicolored flowers twisted in the sweetest smelling wind one could imagine.  They danced through the air... people noticing and gasping at the beauty of the twisting display.  Seeming to wave lazily in the air, suddenly it seemed to swoop in towards Calista.  Suddenly it spilled on the granite floors just at the young immortals feet.  The pile of flowers seemed to grow... shaking with magical life as it seemed to organize itself... like watching a blend of chaotic colors coaless into a picture once more.  This picture, though, was an exotic, beautiful, olive skinned young woman with dark hair.<br/><br/>This was a spitting image of Persephone, though she perfered to be called Kore by what few friends she chose to have.  Forming her face in flowers she smiled.  The petals simply sliding along the grey and black marbling of the floor as if guided by an invisible artists hand.  Everyone stoped what they were doing and watched on fascinated.  This was something older immortals didnt seem to notice anymore... thier effects on mortals.  "I will be visiting an old friend today.  I hope to see you there."  With the sound of laughter, a swift wind blew the petals back into a cloud but this time they sailed down the nearby chasm the road was crossing over.  The onlookers could only shrug and then turn and start back at thier duties.  Such was the frequency of the manifestation of the powers of the immortals down here.<br/><br/>Calista alone would know the very personal meaning of the message.  In the center of the Undercity there was a Temple to the Fallen... a memorial to the immortals which have somehow been destoryed.  She had been close to Aphrodite long ago.  She still concidered her loss a tragedy and often times visited her oversized alabaster statue.