"A hefty price to be sure, but such a cost befits salvation from an unknowing hell." The Lord of Whispers was ever fond of his riddles and half truths. To be told directly of anything was cause for concern all its own. War. Meeod's mind flickered towards the past, those times of the Clash of Gods. Some part of her wished that she had never woken, that she could remain with her beloved undisturbed, but such thoughts were neither here nor now. Now was the time to dwell on the modern world, and the warnings given graciously to her. 

Many of the gods believed that her hatred of them came solely from those times. That it was brought upon from the fighting, the hatred, the death and mortal suffering. They were wrong, and in truth those matters meant little to her. He knew though, X. He knew that she spurned the gods for shirking the responsibilities that were expected of their power. That they would bring flawed life upon creation and abuse such flaws to meet their own ends. She assumed responsibility for them, having cared for the souls of mortals for all time, and in her infinite love, would see them free from their creators, and freedom from their flawed existence.

Meeod heard his questions to her. They were hollow and in rhetoric. As always He knew. However, even knowing the answer, some questions needed to be asked regardless. "My position remains the same. Your petty grievances do not concern me. You know though, more than anyone else that there are [i]problems[/i] that need [i]dealing with[/i]. Should it come to what you believe it will, and I have no reason to doubt, I will aid you, and the gods of heaven. For a time at least, as we will no doubt share a common enemy. If I am given my trophy, we will leave on amicable terms, and I will not bother you in your wars. My eye will always be on The Bearer of Incense, but if I'm given my boon, I will stay my ire, for a time."

"As for your other question." Meeod shifted slightly, raising her right hand towards the stone mask. The sleeve of her cloak fell away, revealing a bandaged hand and arm, cupping a small, pale white light. Others would seek to steal them away when her back is turned, or cause pain beyond their comprehension. She would see those beings undone. Her hand closed around the physical manifestation of the soul, sending it on its way. "Whether or not I belong is irrelevant. There are things that need doing, and nobody else is seeing that they're done."

"Thank you for taking your time to speak with me."