Blacktail Deer Plateau When the world turns ugly I just turn and look at you

She astutely picked out his heritage (not that his stories were exactly subtle), and he nodded in confirmation to her query. "Indeed, though so far back it is well beyond memory. Most of the ways were lost on my father's pack, but the stories remain, as they tend to do." Their pack carried little of the culture of their homeland, the split and departure from their homelands having seemingly cost them such traditions. Happily though their mythos had followed through the generations as tales told to young and old alike.

"Did he?" That surprised Dante. From his impression of Peregrine's family, he hadn't thought them to be particularly tied up in gods and myths. Perhaps he was mistaken, for such assumptions could often be completely off base and should rarely be given any sort of precedence. Or perhaps they simply enjoyed them for the stories they were. He wondered where the man would have come across these tales. "That would be Jupiter," he said with a smile. The tales of the king of the gods were always amusing. "Renowned for being liberal in love, and his wife Juno for making those he chose pay for his dalliances." He shook his head. "A strong, vindictive woman that one. Cruel at times, but I suppose one could hardly fault her considering her husband's nature." One would think she'd have learned before pairing up with him though and gotten the hell away. That part he had never understood. "His daughter, Minerva, was indeed born in an odd way. He complained of a headache and she sprang from his skull, a warrior to rival Mars himself."

Dante only believed half the myths of his home. Some, like that one, were simply too outlandish to be given any sort of validation. But others he saw half-truth in. All stories had to be based in a little bit of fact, otherwise where did they come from?