[centre][color=CECECE][h1][b]Yesaris[/b][/h1][/color]

&

[img]https://i.imgur.com/ApJH3g8.png[/img]
[h1][sub]ROSALIND[/sub][/h1]
[b][sub]RAGING ROSA | THE DANCE-DEMON | FEVERFOOT | LEAPING LINDA[/sub][/b][/centre]

[centre][h2][b]Hunger & the Rose[/b][/h2]

[img]https://www2.gvsu.edu/vangm/backgroundsandotherpictures/pinkrosevine.gif[/img][/centre]

Rosalind the Feverfoot was fairly convinced that she had lost her boat. She stood on the surf-addled shore where her strange journey had carried her, shivering slightly - though whether it was due to the cold or due to the fever was not clear even to her - and gazed across the seas where Mamang had disappeared. She could not see any sign of Yudaiel’s gift. Though that would have filled her with sadness before, she received it now with a certain [i]acceptance[/i] - or rather, [i]hope[/i]. Or rather, even, [i]certainty[/i]. Acceptance, hope, and certainty that her boat would find its way back to her, and she a way back to it. It was sad to go boatless and completely oarless into the world, sadder still to go without hope of ever finding them - and Rosalind (oh happy days!) was glad to not be of that luckless sort.

She turned away from the screeching sea gales and drum of marching waves and saw that the coast gave way rather swiftly to forest. Stumbling forth on her ever-quaking feet, she advanced into the darkness of the woods. It was with no small amount of trepidation that she did so - for who does not fear the darkness and the unknown? - but she was pleasantly surprised by the immediate warmth that washed over her as she passed the line of thick trees - giant trees, trees unlike anything she knew trees to be. It was like somebody had spread a quilt over the entire world to keep the wind and cold and sound of crashing waves at bay.

The forest was not quiet though. There was an incessant background [i]hum[/i] that sent small spasms down her form and caused her feet to convulse and almost burst into fevered motion. She did not let it though, and - somewhat fearfully now, for she did not wish to see so much that she would lose her feet - she looked around and listened to the forest. Birds chirruped and little creatures skittered here and there - stealthily, invisibly, perceptively . She heard the birds but did not see them, heard the little skitterers but did not spot them. Those things that wished to hide hid well.

But there were plenty without fear. The giant antlered deer stared at her without fear as she passed by. The moose paid her no heed, and she kept her distance from that thing of terrible size. Martens and minks darted here and there, the hooting of watchful owls, the flapping of ravens. At one point she spied the oddest thing - a white raven. It stood on a branch observing her with blue-eyed intent, and the goddess shivered and moved away. She saw all kinds of cats also, great and small - the little wildcat, the bobcat, the lynx, the jaguar perched high in the trees. Boars grunted at her or stood glaring, a wolverine passed before her - paused and glanced nonchalantly - then disappeared beyond the girth of a tree. Rabbits went hopping and hares leaping, squirrels darted - or, in some cases, [i]flew[/i] - and the stout badger, scowling, went sniffing and bumbling by. All watched her - if they watched at all - with curiosity, but otherwise kept their distance. The bear, of enormous size, watched her as she came to a small stream, and a few wolves, reclined on the other bank, perked up as she came to a standstill by the pristine waters. 

Her lips were parched and skin - especially where the Exile had bitten her - irritated, and she instinctively knelt down and dipped her hands into the flowing water of the stream. It was nothing like seawater. Even now she could remember the sting of the salt on her eyes when she had fallen in. She cupped the pure water into her hands and brought it to her lips, to her face, to her hair. And then, with a shy glance around, she loosened her skirt and removed her blouse and, with a yelp at the cold, waded into the waters in nothing but the bangles her father had gifted to her. She washed her hair, freed it of salt, cleansed the wound on her neck and, closing her eyes, allowed water unadulterated by salt to flow over her.

When she was satisfied and the cold was beginning to get into her bones, she re-emerged and sat by the bank, allowing her body and hair to dry before she dressed. Lazily, then, she picked at the flowers that grew on the riverbank - blue and red and yellow flowers, sweet-smelling and odourless - and her hands weaved them, as though by instinct, into a necklace of flowers and a crown of flowers, and flowery bracelets and anklets. She sighed, smiled, remembered the whale and wished he could experience this. Remembered Voligan and wondered where and what he was doing now. Thought of Alethesius and Ao-Yurin and how they had perished so soon after their coming into the world, thought it sad how such powerful things could disappear just like that while she - who had created nothing, nothing so beautiful as water, nothing so sturdy as determination - had survived. She thought also of Yudaiel, her kind sister, thought of how swiftly that all-seeing Eye had forgiven her failings and given her the means by which to arrive safely here on Galbar to be cured. Thought also of Iqelis, who had told her not to cry out for help - and he was right, of course. It was no good to be helpless. But that was the plight of the weak, and surely - as the laektears had done when the Exile was upon her - it was the duty of the strong to help? She thought of Ruina’s words about Iqelis, remembered the words of Yudaiel in the mind of Mamang. Recalled the red goddess and her funerary dance for the slaughtered thousands. Remembered, also, the voice of the Apostate - and shivered. For she knew his voice; it was the voice of the mountains.

As she brought another flower to her nose, she thought at last of the Monarch and, now that she had learned love from Mamang, realised that it was not only fear that she felt towards that great being. Sure, his punishment had come swift when she erred, but so too had his aid when she needed it. She placed a finger on one of the seemingly infinite bracelets he had gifted her and, in that moment (a bit late, perhaps,) she was grateful. Had that not been a father’s love? She threw herself back and lay to the jangling of bangles on a pillow of velvet hair, and she watched the grey skies and breathed. The world, it seemed to her, despite all the awful things she had witnessed - yes, despite the death of gods, despite fate striking down the strong, despite the Exile’s deceit, despite the green death that polluted the ocean, despite all that - was intrinsically beautiful and good. Her father was [i]good[/i], her siblings - Yudaiel, Voligan, that red dancing goddess… even Iqelis, in his way - were [i]good[/i], even that voice in the mountains that had driven her into the sea, it too had been [i]good[/i]. Mamang too, the sea - so beautiful that ocean, so vast and breathtaking - the laektears; all those were [i]good[/i]. The whale mother, the rorquals dancing in the north, in the east, in the south, the dolphins, the fishes; all those things were good. Even the Exile - in his way - was good, despite the bite, despite the treachery, despite the murder. She exhaled slowly. The world was good, and in so good a world what need had she - really - for fear? She may lose an ear, true, she may even lose her life - but was that really all that bad? It was not bad at all when placed beside what good she had thus far known.

The crack of branches broke the calm stillness about the goddess, and the wolves and bears and beasts all around fled in abrupt panic. As the smell of death washed over the stream, the reason for their panic became quickly clear. There, emerging from the trees, was a hunched figure, clad in a tattered pale cloak that neither hid their white chitin underneath nor their four clawed arms. It did seem to hide their face, though, in pitch blackness - except for a wide toothy smile that seemed to have been plastered on. 

The being took a few staggered steps over to the stream, letting themselves almost fall down next to it, and slowly cupped their hands to guzzle down long draughts of its water, almost as if they had not drunk anything in unknown aeons. But as they bent down for another, they spotted the goddess laid upon the ground of the other bank, and froze. The smile did not vanish in the slightest, but it was clear they were entirely unsure on how to react, and so merely stared at Rosa - or, at least, somewhat stared, for their eyes could not be seen. 

As the creature continued to stare and the eerie silence washed over the place, the goddess lying by the stream seemed to feel that something was amiss and so opened her eyes and sat up, her hair rising like a waterfall that had forgotten gravity. Rosalind’s gaze drifted sideways and settled on the grinning creature huddled on the other bank. For a few moments her face was blank - with surprise, perhaps - but then an inkling of the essential fear that so coloured her being crept into her eyes and she slowly, carefully, without taking her eyes off the creature, shuddered to her feet. Gulping and taking one glance towards the trees before returning to the creature, she gave a trembling smile and spoke. “H-” she swallowed, “hello. I am Rosalind.” She paused hesitantly, and some spark of courage seemed to shiver in her eyes. “What’s your name?”

The figure tilted their head some, as if trying to fully figure out who they were looking at. Silence washed over them once more as they continued to stare at Rosalind, before they finally spoke, their voice strange and echoing, almost as if it overlapped with itself. [color=CECECE]“We, are Yesaris. You are, Kin, are you not?”[/color] They remained where they were, not once having taken their eyeless gaze off her, hands still ready to drink once more from the stream. It was almost as if their entire body had stopped working.

Rosalind frowned and cocked her head to make out the words that even now echoed on the wind - echoed even though the lips of Yesaris had stopped moving. At last though, understanding bloomed on her face and a stronger smile returned to it as she nodded. “I- I think so. Yesaris. It’s good to meet you. I- I hope we can be friends.” She walked along the riverside until she stood right across from him. “Your voice is not like anything I have ever heard, Yesaris. It echoes so sadly - and it’s like there are so many other voices in there. It’s very beautiful, but really quite sorrowful. But then, I look at you and you are smiling. Why do you look so happy but sound so sad?”

Yesaris pondered that for a moment, their head looking down upon the stream, trying to figure out the answer themselves. Their head snapped abruptly back up towards Rosa, and in that same, sad, vast voice, they replied. [color=CECECE]“We, do not quite know Kin Rosalind, you are, in truth, the first to describe our voice like that, and many would not describe our smile as… happy.”[/color] Their gaze towards her seemingly began to lose focus, and Yesaris began to quickly shoot looks beyond Rosa, as if searching for something. The goddess glanced behind her, found nothing, and looked back at Yesaris.

“It is a little bit of a strange smile, but there are stranger things in the world so it’s not bad to be a little strange I think. Though you’re right, maybe it’s not a happy smile,” she mused, “but if you’re not smiling because you’re happy, why are you smiling?” She asked, then glanced behind her again as Yesaris continued to look beyond her. “What are you looking at? I- is there something there?”

[color=CECECE]“No, no, at least, not currently,”[/color] they chuckled, their laugh buzzing, almost like a swarm of bugs. [color=CECECE]“We apologize, we are, hungry, but, as for our smile,”[/color] they reached one of their hands up to touch their sharp and jagged smile before continuing, [color=CECECE]“we have merely, always, been smiling, we suppose it is one of warning, many seem to think it is… unsettling. We suppose they are right.”[/color] 

The goddess’ own smile fell at this. “Oh. Well, I was a little scared when I saw it first. But then I thought that it was bad of me to think that, that maybe you only meant well by it.” She paused and her eyes of twilight, bereft now of fear or courage, took him in. “So you want to be unsettling? You want others to be afraid? Why?”

Yesaris rose from their kneeling position, though they were still noticeably shorter than Rosa. [color=CECECE]“Well, it's simple. Fear… it… messes with one’s mind. Those who are afraid are… easier… to deal with. At least, for us that is.”[/color]

The goddess watched the other god with a slight frown. “That’s a strange way to think. How can you deal with somebody who is terrified of you? Surely you wouldn’t be able to - they’d, I don’t know, run away or scream or faint.”

Yesaris chuckled - buzzing and echoing as if it were everywhere. [color=CECECE]“Yes yes, they do that - though we can still catch them if they run, or wait for them to wake. But those who are afraid tend to be more willing to… make deals. Their rationale erodes, and we… can swoop in.”[/color]

Biting her lip at the disturbing image, Rosalind scratched her cheek and was silent for a brief moment. “That… doesn’t sound…” she paused and looked at the dwarfish grinning thing, and its teeth seemed to glisten in a way they had not done before. “You… enjoy doing this?”

[color=CECECE]“One could say we do. We have to admit… seeing fear can be… tantalizing,”[/color] their words brought a sudden, but ever so faint, scowl to Rosalind’s face, and the wind seemed to pick up and the running water flinch at the unprecedented motion on the dancer’s face. One of Yesaris’ arms gripped where their stomach could be expected to be as they once more scanned the area, before snapping back to Rosa. [color=CECECE]“Our apologies, but, you wouldn’t happen to have any, food on you?”[/color]

“Food?” Rosalind repeated, looking around as though it would miraculously materialise. “Uh, I don’t. I don’t have anything, no. I’m sorry. Maybe- oh! I can maybe try and catch a fish for you.” She leaned over and looked into the stream, and her curtain of black hair fell as she did so. “I’m sure we can catch something - you’re a god! And,” she chuckled at how crazy it sounded, “I’m one too!”

[color=CECECE]“Yes yes we are. It is a… simple process.”[/color] They drew their gaze down to the stream alongside Rosa, and merely watched the stream intently, though they continued to speak. [color=CECECE]“Tell us Kin Rosa, what god are you? We all have our, purpose, what is yours?”[/color]

Rosalind paused in her search for a fish and her brows furrowed as she thought. “Oh. Purpose?” She bit her lip and scratched her cheek. “I… well. I’m not sure. I mean, I know I need to- well, find a cure.” She glanced down at her feet. “I… have a sickness- a fever, more like, in my feet. So I guess my purpose is to heal it. Or, well, not my purpose, but it’s something I need to do to be able to… live properly, I guess, and not be a danger to everyone.” She glanced down at her trembling feet with a small sigh, then turned her gaze back on the grinning Yesaris. “What about you, Yesari- uh, Aris? Yesa?” She grimaced awkwardly at her failure to grant a nickname as naturally as he had her. “Uh, yeah. What god are you? What’s your purpose?”

[color=CECECE]“We eat; we consume; we are… a parasite. That is our purpose.”[/color] They kept their focus down upon the stream, watching intently with the air of a predator, almost, eager to get something to eat. [color=CECECE]“Though one has to wonder if our father did truly mean to create us. We are not the most conductive god to the life of our world,”[/color] They snapped their head up to Rosalind, the grin still there. [color=CECECE]“And it sounds like you’re not either.”[/color]

The goddess flinched away slightly, but then couldn’t help but chortle slightly. “That was actually funny - a bit scary, but funny too.” She giggled, flashing him a full-toothed smile, before releasing a long breath and staring back into the water. “But you’ve got a point. I mean, I don’t doubt that pap- uh, father- meant to create us. I think it’s more…” she looked up again and set her lips in a slight contemplative pout, “maybe I just need to realise it, you know? Like, there are some of us - like Yudaiel the Eye or Voligan the Earthheart - who just knew their purpose right away, but I didn’t. If pa- father wanted me to know it then I would’ve - but since he didn’t tell me, I’ll have to find out for myself. Maybe that’s my purpose - to find out my purpose. And when I find it, I’m sure I’ll be able to be conducive to life too. I don’t doubt that you’re conducive to life - you probably just haven’t seen it yet. You should probably try to find out.”

[color=CECECE]“Possibly possibly, though… we have to admit… we have far more… pressing matters.”[/color] The grinning god stared into the stream, seemingly growing frustrated with the lack of fish appearing within. They slunk down, nearly flat upon the bank of the stream, waiting, silent. Rosalind flashed him an amused grin and chuckled.

“Well aren’t you antsy.” She laughed as she hiked her skirt up and waded into the freezing water. She stared into it for a few seconds, focusing, and then darted suddenly. Her hair burst all around her and fell into her eyes, and her crown of flowers descended into the waters and was carried off with the flow, so that her hands came up empty. She shook the wild black strands away and quickly bunched them up in a wild bun and tied it tightly in place with a lock. With that, she looked down into the clear cold waters and was still, but for her feet shivering on the stream bed. Her breath came slow, her exhalations billowing like dancing clouds before dissipating. She watched the dance of the flow, was swept up in that dance, became that dance; and in that dance - that is, in [i]her[/i] - moved the fish. Her hands dipped into the water - there was no splash; her hands were the flow - and her fingers danced with the fish, [i]were[/i] the dance of the fish, so that she did not catch the fish but rather caught herself.

The goddess stood in the shallow stream, hugging the great salmon to her chest with a broad smile on her face. She waddled over to Yesaris and beamed down at him. “Look Yes- uh, Ris?- I caught one for you.” She fell to her knees by him and held the massive salmon out. Everything in these lands was massive.

Yesaris snatched the large fish from her hands, inadvertently tearing her flowery bracelets, and grasped it in their twisted claws. With a sudden crunch, before the startled Rosalind’s eyes, they clamped down upon the fish’s flesh, sinking their teeth into it. Blood poured forth and down their face as they pulled away, tearing the chunk of fish away from its body - and they barely even chewed, merely swallowing it whole. They went back in, again and again, not even stopping due to the bones, they crushed and swallowed them too, letting the blood pour across their face and arms. All until there was nothing left of the fish; all had been consumed. They paused for a moment, breathing heavily, before turning to Rosa. [color=CECECE]“We… thank you, Kin Rosa.”[/color] They continued to stare, now seemingly focused on Rosa herself. 

Though clearly disconcerted by the display, Rosalind managed to smile faintly and nod in response. “My goodness, you really were hungry.” She muttered, clutching the edge of her skirt and bringing it up to wipe the blood off Yesaris’ face and mouth. “You’re one messy eater!”

Yesaris stared at Rosa’s hand and skirt as they drew close to their face. Their mouth began to open as a chattering sound emanated from within, and suddenly snapped at her. Their bite missed her hand by mere inches and the goddess flinched away. Yesaris fell back, hunched over once more, the chattering getting louder and louder as their gaze remained entirely on her, their smile widening.

Furrowing her brows, the hand she had nearly lost to Yesaris’ maw resting on her chest, Rosalind stared at the grinning god. “Uh, R- Ris? Are you okay?” She rose to her feet cautiously. “Do… you want another fish?”

[color=CECECE]“No…no…we think…we want something… [i]different[/i].”[/color] The flesh hungry god rose to their feet as well, taking a few steps towards Rosa, their clawed hands twitching as if filled with a sudden urge. The chattering only kept growing as the god seemed to lose their original cohesiveness. Clearly perturbed, the goddess slowly backed away.

“Something different? Like what? Uh- R-Ris you’re scaring me a little now. I-If you’re joking then- it’s not funny anymore.”

[color=CECECE]“Oh we don’t joke,”[/color] they took another step, and another. [color=CECECE]“We would run if we were you…it’s far, far more fun that way.”[/color] Their smile only grew more and more, becoming more unnatural. The goddess looked at him for a second and then, to her own surprise, frowned and stepped towards him with purpose.

“Look here, I’m not falling for this - I’m not going to do this getting scared stuff you seem to like. So you’re going to stop. Stop this right now.” She did not sound very convincing, but she backed her words up with a half-hearted slap - which seemed to hurt her far more than it did Yesaris.

The god did not reply, but instead lunged towards Rosa, their jagged grin clamping down upon her hand, crunching through bone and flesh alike once more. With a wrench, they pulled back, taking the hand with them, before swallowing it down their gullet in one gulp. And their grin only grew at the taste, and their hands reached out, clawing for more.

Rosalind did not scream, but quick hot tears exploded almost immediately from her eyes, and her eyes fell on those of Yesaris for the briefest seconds before she brought the bleeding stump to her chest, turned on her trembling feet, tripped over the hem of her skirt, and fell head-first into the freezing waters of the shallow stream. She came up with a gasp, her hair coming undone and sticking to her face and neck. She managed to stand and half-wade and half-stumble across the rivulet, heedless to the flow of red-gold ichor that seemed to change the very nature of the waters. Still sobbing, she dragged herself out on the other side, weighed down by her velvet skirt. She grabbed it with her remaining hand, spared a backward glance at the advancing Yesaris - swimming, it seemed to her, in a river of red-gold blood - then hurtled into the warmth and perceived safety of the trees.

The chattering of Yesaris followed close behind, rushing towards the bleeding goddess who had enticed them so. Running upon all six of their limbs in order to keep up pace with her, they purposefully refrained from bounding any faster than her, merely running at a pace to keep track of her, following the red-gold drink that their mind was entirely focused upon. They wanted this to play out; the fearful ones tasted better after all. And they kept the chattering loud and present, echoing through the woods and trees, surrounding Rosa as she fled away from that which wanted to feast upon her.

As she ran she left a clear trail of blood and tears and wetness, of sobs and gasps, a clear scent of fear and pain - and, most poignantly, betrayal. In that state of delirious fear and trembling the world seemed to move against her, the earth below and the sky above and the filling of air and wind between - and winds, Rosalind knew, never do blow as boats desire. There she was, who was the dance of all things, flagging and falling as the eruption of pain and fear caused her to forget that she was the motion dancing on the winds that even now beat her back, she the trembling dance of the earth that thrummed even now against her, she the great open dance on the sky that even now closed its gates to her. Forgetting all this, she felt - oh greatest betrayal, oh most treasonous knife of all! - her very spirit fail her so that, with a final exhausted sob and an expiration of pearly tears, she fell to her knees and planted her face in the earth, holding her bleeding stump to her chest and sobbing gently into musty soil. She could run no more and was tired, and her thoughts turned away from the horror descending on her to wonder, instead, if she would be able to rest when this was done.

The beast was quick to catch up, panting as they rose upon their legs. Slowly staggering towards the wounded goddess who lay upon the ground, their smile oh so incredibly wide, wider by far than it had ever been. Soon they were practically on top of Rosa, staring down at her before gripping her bleeding arm and forcing it out from under her huddled form, away from the warm safety of her chest and, hunching themselves down, let the ichor that ran from it fall on their parched tongue.
“R-Ris- no, please-” she turned to them and pleaded weakly, but Yesaris ignored her weak pleas - delighted in them, perhaps. Shuddering from the drink, they opened their gash of a mouth and clamped down once more, this time biting into her forearm, tearing a chunk of flesh away from it, which they too gulped down in a single swallow. One of their arms crept up to Rosa’s face, their hand clasping her mouth shut before taking another bite from her arm.

The goddess convulsed beneath him and cried out into his hand, tears flooding and wetting her hair and the ground beneath her, and her remaining arm snapped up, instinctively, to weakly grab the arm that muffled her. She struggled, but she was weak and defeated; there was fear and pain in her eyes, but also surrender and a desperation - a pleading - for it to be done.

As Yesaris bit into her with slow relish, delighting in the unprecedented taste - god! The flesh and ichor of god! - something moved in him. It was not the stirring of conscience by any means, but a rather more physical movement. It moved in his ichor, in the darting of his heart, spread through his form until, gently, kindly even, it settled on his mind. Yesaris saw nothing, only savoured the ready, fear-seasoned flesh and bone - but the Eye within the goddess he feasted upon had opened, and it [i]saw[/i] Yesaris. Or rather, [i]felt[/i] Yesaris. Felt the agony that ate on him even as he consumed all things, felt the pangs of insatiable hunger that addled his mind and sight with a near madness - such needs, had Yesaris, such terrible needs as would shatter the hardest heart of stone; what, then, of Rosalind’s kindly heart? Had she been created thus she too would have fed on all things - willing or unwilling, with or without relish; and truth be told, she had much rather relish in her needs than give way to the misery of guilt and self-hate and revulsion.

Beneath Yesaris, the goddess shifted her gaze and brought her good hand to the feeding parasite’s face. Gently - without resistance, without reprimand, but with coaxing tenderness - she drew him to her, brought his mouth to her shoulder, and whispered. “Here, Ris, eat from here.”

Yesaris paused. This… was… [i]different[/i]. 

They quite honestly did not know how to continue. Their feasts did not [i]offer themselves[/i] to them; they screamed, they flailed, and in the end they gave in. The hungering god would have thought more about this, but the taste of the divine remained upon their mind and it forced the oddity out of their head. They wanted more of it, they wanted… no, they didn’t want it, they [i]needed[/i] it. Anything to keep the hunger away. With another lunge they clamped down upon Rosa’s shoulder, tearing away the flesh and gulping it down, hoping to feed their desperate hunger and keep the pain that racked through every last inch of their chitin and flesh at bay. It was a wonder the parasite did not choke upon their food. 

As he bit into flesh and bone, the goddess shuddered and convulsed once more, but her face was in all ways serene - it did not twist in pain, though her brows furrowed ever so slightly as though in deep focus. She spoke in a low, gentle tone. “Does it still hurt? Are you satiated?” She drew him to her other shoulder, where the wound caused by the Exile’s bite on her neck had opened up again. “There’s more if it still hurts.”

Yesaris stopped for a moment, hunched over the chewed form of the dancer. [color=CECECE]“It… always hurts.”[/color]. Then they jerked back, away from Rosa, hunching over towards the grass that surrounded them, retching and heaving. With a violent vomiting sound, the golden bangles Yesaris had incidentally consumed erupted from their mouth, falling upon the ground with a thud. All except one, one that seemed to form itself upon one of Yesaris’ wrists. [color=CECECE]“What… what is this?”[/color] they asked, turning their head towards Rosa’s bloodied form. Her blank eyes shifted to the single red-gold bracelet on Yesaris’ arm, and after a moment of stillness there was motion.

It began in Rosalind’s eye - a single tear formed. It was not like any of those that had formed up before - not a tear of self-woe, not one of fear, not one of frustration, not a laektear. It was a tear of sympathy - pity - perhaps the first tear shed in empathy by divine eyes. The tear did not fall down, but rather fell up, and it tottered in the air, trembled, and burst so that its movement pervaded the space around the two gods. And while the moments before that eruption had known nothing of movement, now they were a stranger to stillness. The goddess lurched up, and Yesaris found her in his many arms. Her blood danced about his chitinous form like a second skin, and his mouth passed now along her waiting neck and now across her shoulder.

But as they whirled in that strange grove - and it had not been a grove before, but was now becoming - the hungering god forgot his hunger, lost track of pain, and beheld only the sister who had given herself entirely, freely, unstintingly to him. He did not ask why, but danced why; she did not say why, but they spun why and weaved why and whirled why. And if tears could form in them, tears would have fallen from hunger’s two wide eyes. The dance did not merely speak, it moved something within Yesaris - his heart panged, his eyes wettened, his feet swirled. And Rosalind the Feverfoot hung on his arm, her smile sad, her eyes sad - not for her, he realised, he knew, but… [i]for him[/i].

The Parasite, for once in their existence, was confused. These feelings that came from the dance were… strange… foreign… different. This surge of thoughts beyond their mind caused them to chuck the broken goddess from their arms, down upon the grove’s haggard grounds. Clutching their head they began to scream - not their sickened chattering, but a true scream, demanding (through pure noise) for the thoughts to go away, for their heart to calm itself and, perhaps, for the pain to finally go away. They stumbled backwards, crashing against a tree before slowly sinking down. [color=CECECE]“What, have you done to us?”[/color] they nearly screamed out towards the goddess.

The crumpled goddess shifted her head and her empty gaze, with that even wet stream flowing from her eyes, beheld him. “You- hurt so much, Ris,” she managed, “[i]why?[/i]” The gentle flow became a cascade and she sobbed, her face twisting and snot mixing on the ground with tears. “Why’s that there?”

[color=CECECE]“It has always been there… that… piercing hunger… we… must feed it.”[/color] They didn’t even raise their head to look towards Rosa, clutching it still as the emotions smoldered deep within them. [color=CECECE]“What did you do to us, what are these thoughts.”[/color]

“I- I don’t know,” came Rosalind’s response, “I didn’t do it.” She paused and looked sorrowfully at him. “If it still hurts then…” her gaze drifted to her mauled form, though her head did not move, “I don’t mind. If it will ease your pain then… then it’s okay. You can have your fill.”

Yesaris shook their head [color=CECECE]“Your flesh would not fill us. Its taste is beyond what we’ve had before, but… it would not be enough. We need far more.”[/color] They staggered up, using the tree to stabilize themselves and finally bringing their gaze towards Rosa, yet remained silent. The silence remained and grew between them until the goddess shifted, grunted, and picked her broken and bleeding form up. Her feet trembled and tapped wildly so that she looked like a broken string-doll as she moved slowly towards Yesaris.

When she reached him, she extended her one good hand and cupped what passed for his cheek. “If I’m not enough, then I’m sorry Ris. I- I’m not strong - I don’t know how to help. This,” she glanced down at her form, then returned to his eyes, “this is all I have to give.” She caressed his brow like a mother would her child’s, or a sister her sibling’s. “I hope… I hope you find what you’re searching for - and the end of all pain.” She smiled then, faintly, through her own pain. “And when you do, come back and show me.” She took a step away. “So go. Go. If I won’t do, then go sate your hunger on something better.”

Confusion still wracked the mind of the Parasite, but even they had to admit that the dancer’s words were… comforting in a way. They wiped away the blood caked on their mouth with their cloak, gazing at the kin they had taken chunks out of only mere minutes ago. [color=CECECE]“Very well kin Rosa, if we find a solution, we will show you. That… is our promise.”[/color] With a snap, their head turned towards the skies and the forest, intently listening to something beyond. [color=CECECE]“We suppose it is time to take our leave then. This is farewell, Kin Rosa.”[/color]

The goddess’ gaze shifted with that of her sibling, and she looked towards the skies and listened intently too for a few seconds. She ran her hand through her hair, and when she brought it back there was one long, dark lock there. She approached Yesaris, took his braceleted hand and - somehow, despite her one hand - managed to weave the long lock around the bracelet and fasten it with a small knot. “Just a… so you don’t forget. You promised, right?” She sighed and released him. “Goodbye Ris, for now. Maybe when we next meet we’ll both be better.”

[color=CECECE]“We can only hope, Kin Rosa. Goodbye.”[/color] And the Lord Parasite took their leave, heading deep into the forest. 

The goddess watched him go, and once she was alone she shivered and limped across the newly-formed grove. Leaning on a tree, she slid down against it. She sat there, blank eyes of pure twilight watching the darkening skies and pure ichor pooling around and slaking the thirst of the soil. She closed her eyes and was quiet and still - but for her frantic, frenzied, feverish feet.

[centre][img]https://www2.gvsu.edu/vangm/backgroundsandotherpictures/pinkrosevine.gif[/img][/centre]

[list][*][hider=Summary]
We open up on Rosa, having just come off her trip with the big whale boi and needing to get herself cleaned up, and does just that at a nearby stream. After ruminating on life and everything, Rosa’s calm relaxation is interrupted by the arrival of Yesaris, who is off putting, as Yesaris does. 
The two have a chat, learning about each other and what they’re all about. Yesaris’ attention though, is drawn away to their hunger, and Rosa helps get them a fish to help feed themselves. This, goes wrong, and Yesaris quickly snaps at her and bites off one of her hands. Chase ensues. 
Rosa gives up and let's Yesaris take chunks off her, but suddenly becomes connected, and learns of the pain the parasite goes through. This makes her more willing to share her flesh with them, and via an accidental ingestion of bangles, Yesaris gets one and they get empathy danced! 
The eating of another god stops, but Yesaris is shaken up. Rosa gets them to promise to seek a solution to their pain and show it to her if they do. And so they’re, kinda cool with each other? Who knows.
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[*][hider=Vigor]
Yesaris - No Vigour Spent

Rosalind - 10 Vigour
[indent]2 Vigour: Turn the rivulet Rosalind bathed and bled in into a monument - the River of Blood and Flowers. This river flows red-gold with the blood of a goddess and flower petals of all colours and scents. Those who drink from it are immediately refreshed, tiredness and aches healed and minor illnesses cured. Those who bathe in it are strengthened, made more agile and lithe for a few hours or a month depending on their pre-existing level of health and fitness. Moreover, the scent of anyone who bathes in it is immediately and permanently changed into a distinctly floral one - every person receives a distinctly different floral scent, with no two ever being alike. The strength of their scent is not changed in any way.

2 Vigour [Enhanced by Dance]: Transform one of Rosalind’s bracelets into the Band of the Empathy Dance. The wearer instinctively knows this dance, and on dancing it fills all those who witness it with great pathos, pity, sympathy, empathy. In the case of Yesaris, onlookers will gain a glimpse into his pain and may be driven to such heightened states of pity as to willingly give themselves over to him so as to sate his hunger and alleviate his pain. The dance can also affect the dancer, but that often depends on their psychology. It would be difficult for a psychopath, for instance, to feel pity even while dancing, but it may be possible if they strongly desire it. Those without such psychological irregularities may also be driven to heightened states of empathy with others. The effect of the band, as with all such bands, generally comes to an end with the dance and any long-term effects are purely due to a genuine change effected by the dance rather than due to the dance continuing to hold sway over either the dancer or audience.

2 Vigour: Create the monument Blood Grove of the Empathy Dance. This sacred space, bereft of trees but surrounded by them, open to the wide heavens and the ever-seeing Eye of the moon, summons forth the sensitivities of all who wander into it in ways rarely experienced outside of it, except by those who have awakened their empathetic potential. A judge who delivers justice here is wont to do so with empathy, the criminal brought to justice here is wont to empathise with their victim, the victim with their victimiser. Feuding parties who parley here are wont to be moved, by sympathy and understanding, to compromise and agree with one another. A declaration of love in this grove is wont to bring the hardest heart to love back, or in rejection to reject with empathy, the rejected to receive with understanding. Festivities held here are wont to bring out the best of people’s care and kindness to one another; in all ways, empathy is strengthened in this grove and enhanced.

4 Vigour remaining.[/indent]

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