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[IC] In Secret We Lie: False Gods & Human Servants
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- Fantasy
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- 18+
- Advanced
- GM NekoKyu
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NekoKyu Queen Persephone, Maiden of Spring
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25 days ago
It was finally time.
Months of preparation and planning were culminating together for this moment. The human servants had all worked together to achieve tonight’s glorious spectacle. Although the training was long, the palace was officially ready to welcome back its divine guests at long last.
And at the very top steps of that palace stood a young man with bright red hair, waiting to greet the Gods as they entered.
His gloved hands were folded calmly over each other, but the pit of his stomach simmered with a biting excitement. Like the other servants, he too had spent months training and preparing. When everyone else had become satisfied with their work and went to bed the night before, he alone had insisted on staying up just a bit longer to ensure everything was perfect. “I’ll handle the final touches,” he had reassured them.
Yes, Amaris was a reliable young man. He had earned a position among the supervisors, after all. It should be fine to trust him with overseeing the last checks…
With an easy swiftness, he wiped away a bead of sweat that threatened to roll underneath the collar of his cravat. For at least another day, he still needed to keep his skin hidden. And after all the time he had already kept himself covered, just one more night should be nothing. A perfect appearance, for at least one more night.
Then he noticed the heat that continued to build up above him. Amaris turned his head upward, and met the sight of a magnificently burning avian creature. It was a flurry of orange flames that descended upon him, with a few flickers of vibrant greens and bright violets. However, before the bird reached the floor, the blaze seemed to swirl and condense together into the shape of a young woman with bouncy orange curls and terrifyingly quiet blue eyes. Amaris’ voice caught in his throat for a moment as he was overcome with a sense of reverence. He almost considered abandoning his carefully laid out plans, but his devout heart quickly weakened with the questioning thoughts that had taken root in his mind.
“Praise to Aeliana Elidi Helia Ormalis Rite. We welcome the Sun and Rebirth to tonight’s banquet,” Amaris greeted with a respectful bow. Thankfully, correcting himself was easy to do after all the practicing he had done. The fact that his “practice” was part of his reliable act though… that was neither here nor there.
“We have prepared a masquerade for your enjoyment. May I lead you to the dressing rooms?” Amaris offered out an elbow as he opened the front door for the Goddess of the Sun. To his surprise, she took it.
“I suppose,” she answered dully as she draped her hand loosely on his arm. Despite the initial shock, Amaris’ expression managed to stay calm and composed. He briefly led her inside and to the dressing room close by.
“There is a collection of masks available inside as well. We hope the night satisfies your expectations,” Amaris gave his farewell with a small bow. Once the figure of the Goddess disappeared beyond the door, he righted himself back up to reveal a self satisfied smirk. In a flash, it vanished.
He had worked late into the night, after all had fallen asleep of course, replacing all the available garments inside. And now it was finally time for all his labour to bear fruit. Although he wished he could see the Gods’ initial reaction to his… outfit choices, he still had work to do.
With a quick brush to ensure his suit was still pristine, Amaris returned to his post outside the palace entrance, poised and ready to greet another God that came in through his way.
The fiery woman yawned as she followed alongside the young man. He led her through the palace entrance and down a short way through the familiar halls. Her bored blue eyes glanced at the same old walls, with the same decorations as last celebrations. Yet another year of the same routine, starting with the same masquerade theme as always. Even though this was technically supposed to be in honor of the ‘Gods’, to Aeliana it felt more like they were the ones putting on a show for the humans.
Pretend to enjoy it. Expect it. Want it. Pick something to make the humans believe that this festival needs to be continued. But honestly? Most of the novelty had worn off long ago for Aelia. So why did she still bother coming? Uhh…… Sorry, what was the question?
She left her human guide and entered the dressing room, expecting to be greeted with a room of glamorous gowns and jewelry. All new, all exquisite and rich. And all monotonously still fitting into the same aura as last year’s.
With an unobservant sigh, Aelia grabbed at the first white garment nearest her. But when she pulled it out to expect it more closely, a grin soon spread across her red lips. “Ohhh," she lifted a brow with interest, “now this should be entertaining.”
Her spirit now a bit more refreshed, she ran her gaze over the remaining rows of clothes. Instead of flowing dresses fit for glowing Goddess, the room was bursting with sleek and stylish suits and blazers.
Aeliana excitedly donned her chosen apparel. Her white vest was adorned with gold buttons and a sweeping long cape. The vest was a stark contrast against the black button up dress shirt she chose to wear underneath. She opted to pair the outfit with a gold and turquoise bolo tie. She found herself marveling over how well the suit tailored to her despite it being measured freely. She certainly had to admit, the humans really did do an amazing job on researching the sizes for the gods.
“Perhaps I should add you to my rotation,” Aelia cooed in approval at her reflection. This may very well be the year the Sun Goddess started wearing pants. From the selection of masks, she picked an appropriately golden one with feather etchings and three pairs of wings sculpted along both temples. It still left the lower half of her face exposed, but surely no one truly expected such coverings to hide the identities of any of the gods attending tonight.
With one last satisfied inspection, Aelia grabbed a colorful paper cone on a string and strode out towards the ballroom. Before the great doors stood a familiar face, although it was partially covered by a mask that almost looked to be made out of a large leaf. Or rather, she noticed his tall back first, which was practically exposed by a thin floral lace covering. It was almost scandalous to witness, if only the wearer would show at least some embarrassment over it.
“Ro Ro!” Aeliana called excitedly to the Shadhavar. She clung to his arm with an exceptionally wide grin, her normally quiet eyes sparkling with hints of excitement. “Would you like to enter together?” The offer was more for his sake than her own, but her playful acting would be sure to fool any unknowing onlookers.
Roshan gave a low grunt, which she took as his acceptance. They pushed the double doors of the ballroom open, and Aelia naturally led the young Shadhavar over to an open table. It was a bit further from the circling of tray-holding servants and close to an exit that led to the garden. Satisfied with her own service, Aelia’s blue eyes began searching the room for some new entertainment.
A low growl escaped Roshan’s throat. He stared at the large double doors with an intense gaze. His brows were furrowed heavily, jaw clenched tight. To the eyes of any passerby’s, he looked… displeased. Frustrated and angry, even. Maybe he was waiting to be announced? For a servant to open the doors for him? They were Gods, after all. Such praise and devotion was probably the bare minimum of expectations.
But what Roshan really wanted was to leave. Run back to the forest, deeply hidden and far away from civilization. He could already sense the large number of humans on the other side of the door, and it made his skin crawl with an intense itch.
He
Did
Not
Want
To be here.
He had pushed his way past the red haired servant at the entrance. Success. He had adorned a formal wear and mask that the humans had prepared. Success. But now that he found himself at the doors to the ballroom, forced to pretend to be a God for the humans? His feet had frozen themselves into place. It wasn’t until he heard the cheerful voice of a familiar phoenix behind him that he finally moved.
Relief instantly swept through his tall frame, although his face didn’t once portray such emotions. He allowed Aeliana to grab his arm and followed her obediently into the grand hall. He ignored the surprised gazes of the humans staring at them as they entered, mistakenly believing it to be their awe at witnessing the arrival of their deities. Rather, their true surprise was at the pair's outfits. Not only was Aelia wearing a suit typically expected of males, but Roshan was equally as shocking in an black gown crafted of lace. His sleeves were long, but decorated in floral patterns. His back was nearly bare, with a thin layer of fabric held together by a row of black pearls that traveled perfectly up his spine. Roshan, who preferred robes anyway, was actually a bit surprised and pleased at his outfit choice. He mistakenly believed the humans had provided him with a formal robe more akin with his taste. It didn’t even occur to him that his garments were within the social norm.
Thankfully, Roshan did not have to endure such curious stares for much longer. As luck would have it, Aeliana had led him over to a table near the exit to the garden. He gave a small cough and jerk of his head to announce his departure, then quickly slipped out the door.
The Shadhavar followed the cobblestone path towards a fountain surrounded by carefully tended flowers. The sun was still up and keeping the sky alight, with birds chirping cheerfully in the distance. Aside from the small animals scurrying about, this part of the garden appeared to be empty.
Perfect. Just the way Roshan liked it. He took a relaxed seat beside the fountain, slouched comfortably with one leg bent alongside him. He wasn't fully at ease, but at least now that he was outdoors, he was a bit closer to it. Anxious for something to occupy his frantic thoughts, he picked up a wayward leaf and pressed it against his lips. The pitch it produced was jaunty and lively, a surprising sound for such an ordinary leaf.
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A procession moved towards the grand palace of the Gods. People dressed in deep blue robes wearing porcelain masks walked in muffled, whispered tones. Towards the front, regal, almost ominous figures we clad in the deep sea blues accented with striking yellows and gilded gold, their masks of equal brilliance of geometric simplicity, featuring only eye slits and curved lines of gold, creating an almost half orbit from top to bottom. Along the flanks, more humble appearances were abound, their robes of the same striking blue, but not guilded in gold, their masks of an even simpler design, of a lighter shade of blue. Finally, those who brought up the rear wore more conventional attire, robes of brown and black, their faces shrouded by cloth, unlike their peers.
They all walked, however, in no great marching step. It was a roughly organized crowd, and all eyes and ears seemed to be focused on its center. Hovering across the ground, a being of its unique splendor was the center of attention. It floated with graceful elegance, a large white and black cape billowing behind. Golden halos encircled a golden pentakisdodecahedron, which hovered above a metallic body. Occasionally, this "head" would rotate in place, addressing one of the group's members. Voices would never rise above normal levels, and everything was kept to a respectful, muffled whisper.
A bizarre sight to those not of this world. Yet, to those who lived in these lands, this was the holy procession of the Anterian Temple, escorting their god to the Grand Feast.
"Great Chronicler, if I am to understand this correctly, the earthquakes of our lands come not from the turbulent winds, but from the ground itself? Wouldn't that mean the movement of such masses would cause untold destruction constantly?"
The question came from one of the younger acolytes of the church. Antero's mind processed the information, grasping to recall the human's name. He chastised himself for letting it slip his mana banks. This was his job, for heaven's sake!
"Indeed, Qaed, you pose a natural query to such a conclusion. Indeed, such movement of immense bodies would, but it is not the speed, but the force behind it that causes such events. When one pushes against a cart, they do not do it with great speed but with great force. Now consider this as the mass of land pushes slowly against each other, the energy is released, the resulting release causing such quakes," he returned, his manacore cooling after recalling the young human's name. His voice rang out with a hollow, reverberating tone as he vibrated specialized carbon structures to simulate their speech. To the humans, it sounded unnatural, but such was his position that these details now only served to further that ruse.
The human nodded slightly, her clothed mask adjusting only slightly as understanding appeared to cross her veiled face. In his millennia of studying humans, he had become quite adept at reading their emotions through their body language. All the more frustrating this damn religion had developed a fetish for wearing hard masks. He quietly thanked fate for having such a younger, more curious mind to ponder this question than the older scholars. Frankly, their attire all unsettled him, but there was a part of him who deeply admired the thought and craftsmanship of the more affluent members.
The other humans of the group nodded along, some further discussing the subject amongst themselves. This was Antero's favorite part of the journey and a more welcome tradition to have come out of this feast. While the Palace of the Gods would select the servants for the feast, his temple would hold a raffle. Any member, from a lowly acolyte in training to the eldest of sages, was eligible to have the honor of escorting their god to the palace for the feast. This was a rare opportunity for the members of his temple to directly interact with their god and a truly privileged honor. For Antero, it was important to freshen up on how to socialize again after being isolated in his studies for the rest of his time. He always mused with some joy how quickly the curious minds of his temple would get over their initial reverence and move towards endless discussions, questions, and debates of academia. He became less of a living god at that point and more of an elder schoolmaster. He'd share bits and pieces of his vast wealth of knowledge, and in turn, he'd pick their brains. These members were one part student, one part test subject, and the last part, much-needed feedback machines to help prepare themselves for the gathering. Of course, they never seemed to pick up on this, too overwhelmed and enraptured by the whole experience. Only one among them had any inclination to the contrary.
Finally, the procession stopped at the head of the land bridge that connected the Palace of the Gods to the rest of the land. They all respectfully bowed and gave great thanks for the wisdom shared in unison before turning and stepping away, leaving only one to remain. A human male, garbed in the deep blue attire and his porcelain mask, stood with the god, staring at the palace.
"It never fails to impress me. The immense amount of engineering it must have taken to combat the surging tides alone must have been a peak to conquer," said the masked man. What amounted to a guffaw came from Antero.
"Vanity. Nothing more." Came Antero's reply.
The wind swept through, and Antero's simulated sensors picked up a large amount of salt on the breeze. The man next to him inhaled deeply and sighed before turning to Antero.
"Farewell, old teacher. Until I come to collect you at the end of the festival," he said with a bow, sweeping his arms low. The pentakisdodecahedron rolled, and the man chuckled. He gave his bow, arms sweeping out, before returning with the rest of the group.
Antero swept his cloak and began to approach the palace, a rising sense of trepidation filling his mana-cognition systems. The fun part was over. Now came the work.
The gates opened as if gently pushed by the wind as Antero's magics swept them aside. Servants bowed low, and he floated through the courtyard, his grand appearance now on full display. He manipulated the local currents to billow his cape a bit, the crystalline structures of his halo swiftly recycling the surface to shine with a polished gold, his metal core gleaming in the setting sun. Vanity as it may be, Antero's pride could show through in odd ways as he took careful craftsmanship of his form. He billowed past the greeter, barely giving any outward acknowledgement, but already his crystalline lattice network was carving his features into memory. Every year, he memorized the faces of the chosen, another way of keeping a finger on the pulse of humanity. He hovered through the palace to his quarters. Unlike the others, his was a sequestered tower, with no real way to access its top unless one could levitate like he could.
Floating to the top floor, he surveyed his surroundings. Many metallic tomes sat neatly and orderly on their respective shelves. Measuring tools and instruments lay across different parts. He generated some wind to blow the accumulated dust from the room and hovered over to his little project. On the right, a carefully assembled globe and on the left, a slab table with a thin sheet of an aluminum-copper alloy. During his previous visits, whenever he had precious time, he busied himself with this little project. Small, in the grand scheme of life and fate, but something he took personal joy in. A map he was slowly creating, based on gathered knowledge, his memories, and calculations he had performed.
All was where it should be.
He floated back down the tower and proceeded to the galley. His sensory crystals detected that the palace hadn't changed during all this time. Every stone he had scanned any number of times remained in its place. His subroutines of thought immediately started documenting rates of erosion, taking further note of how the sea breeze must be slowly scouring this whole structure and estimating times when structure integrity would be in jeopardy. He let those mana-thought systems run in the background as his main consciousness focused on the ball at hand. Unlike the others who wore masks, he hardly bothered changing his appearance. His age and unique nature had earned him that privilege and he'd be damned if he starting playing dress up any more than he had to.
He could barely tolerate taking this form as it was.
Antero entered the ballroom with billowing grandeur. His form was on immaculate display as he strode through the great doors. The reflective golden head regarded the fellow gods with curt rotations, and soon turned towards an ever-familiar face.
"Aeliana Elidi, the sun's own. You seek to cause trouble amongst your peers already? We should be spared of such foolishness at least for the first night of reveries, lest you antagonize this ceremony more than it needs to be." He announced to her as he gracefully floated over. The vibrations had been finally calibrated to something less hurtful to the ear, but maintained their hollow, near-monotone reverb. The head slowly rotated and adjusted, taking in the goddess's experience. "Perhaps I can buy my fellow guests time then from your distractions. I am not unfamiliar with noble sacrifice, of course. To what foolishness have you gotten up to since our last meeting, oh daughter of the sun?"
Despite his rhetoric, Antero felt his mana core cool slightly. It was always almost nostalgic meeting Aeliana again, in which his core found comfort.
@NekoKyu
They all walked, however, in no great marching step. It was a roughly organized crowd, and all eyes and ears seemed to be focused on its center. Hovering across the ground, a being of its unique splendor was the center of attention. It floated with graceful elegance, a large white and black cape billowing behind. Golden halos encircled a golden pentakisdodecahedron, which hovered above a metallic body. Occasionally, this "head" would rotate in place, addressing one of the group's members. Voices would never rise above normal levels, and everything was kept to a respectful, muffled whisper.
A bizarre sight to those not of this world. Yet, to those who lived in these lands, this was the holy procession of the Anterian Temple, escorting their god to the Grand Feast.
"Great Chronicler, if I am to understand this correctly, the earthquakes of our lands come not from the turbulent winds, but from the ground itself? Wouldn't that mean the movement of such masses would cause untold destruction constantly?"
The question came from one of the younger acolytes of the church. Antero's mind processed the information, grasping to recall the human's name. He chastised himself for letting it slip his mana banks. This was his job, for heaven's sake!
"Indeed, Qaed, you pose a natural query to such a conclusion. Indeed, such movement of immense bodies would, but it is not the speed, but the force behind it that causes such events. When one pushes against a cart, they do not do it with great speed but with great force. Now consider this as the mass of land pushes slowly against each other, the energy is released, the resulting release causing such quakes," he returned, his manacore cooling after recalling the young human's name. His voice rang out with a hollow, reverberating tone as he vibrated specialized carbon structures to simulate their speech. To the humans, it sounded unnatural, but such was his position that these details now only served to further that ruse.
The human nodded slightly, her clothed mask adjusting only slightly as understanding appeared to cross her veiled face. In his millennia of studying humans, he had become quite adept at reading their emotions through their body language. All the more frustrating this damn religion had developed a fetish for wearing hard masks. He quietly thanked fate for having such a younger, more curious mind to ponder this question than the older scholars. Frankly, their attire all unsettled him, but there was a part of him who deeply admired the thought and craftsmanship of the more affluent members.
The other humans of the group nodded along, some further discussing the subject amongst themselves. This was Antero's favorite part of the journey and a more welcome tradition to have come out of this feast. While the Palace of the Gods would select the servants for the feast, his temple would hold a raffle. Any member, from a lowly acolyte in training to the eldest of sages, was eligible to have the honor of escorting their god to the palace for the feast. This was a rare opportunity for the members of his temple to directly interact with their god and a truly privileged honor. For Antero, it was important to freshen up on how to socialize again after being isolated in his studies for the rest of his time. He always mused with some joy how quickly the curious minds of his temple would get over their initial reverence and move towards endless discussions, questions, and debates of academia. He became less of a living god at that point and more of an elder schoolmaster. He'd share bits and pieces of his vast wealth of knowledge, and in turn, he'd pick their brains. These members were one part student, one part test subject, and the last part, much-needed feedback machines to help prepare themselves for the gathering. Of course, they never seemed to pick up on this, too overwhelmed and enraptured by the whole experience. Only one among them had any inclination to the contrary.
Finally, the procession stopped at the head of the land bridge that connected the Palace of the Gods to the rest of the land. They all respectfully bowed and gave great thanks for the wisdom shared in unison before turning and stepping away, leaving only one to remain. A human male, garbed in the deep blue attire and his porcelain mask, stood with the god, staring at the palace.
"It never fails to impress me. The immense amount of engineering it must have taken to combat the surging tides alone must have been a peak to conquer," said the masked man. What amounted to a guffaw came from Antero.
"Vanity. Nothing more." Came Antero's reply.
The wind swept through, and Antero's simulated sensors picked up a large amount of salt on the breeze. The man next to him inhaled deeply and sighed before turning to Antero.
"Farewell, old teacher. Until I come to collect you at the end of the festival," he said with a bow, sweeping his arms low. The pentakisdodecahedron rolled, and the man chuckled. He gave his bow, arms sweeping out, before returning with the rest of the group.
Antero swept his cloak and began to approach the palace, a rising sense of trepidation filling his mana-cognition systems. The fun part was over. Now came the work.
The gates opened as if gently pushed by the wind as Antero's magics swept them aside. Servants bowed low, and he floated through the courtyard, his grand appearance now on full display. He manipulated the local currents to billow his cape a bit, the crystalline structures of his halo swiftly recycling the surface to shine with a polished gold, his metal core gleaming in the setting sun. Vanity as it may be, Antero's pride could show through in odd ways as he took careful craftsmanship of his form. He billowed past the greeter, barely giving any outward acknowledgement, but already his crystalline lattice network was carving his features into memory. Every year, he memorized the faces of the chosen, another way of keeping a finger on the pulse of humanity. He hovered through the palace to his quarters. Unlike the others, his was a sequestered tower, with no real way to access its top unless one could levitate like he could.
Floating to the top floor, he surveyed his surroundings. Many metallic tomes sat neatly and orderly on their respective shelves. Measuring tools and instruments lay across different parts. He generated some wind to blow the accumulated dust from the room and hovered over to his little project. On the right, a carefully assembled globe and on the left, a slab table with a thin sheet of an aluminum-copper alloy. During his previous visits, whenever he had precious time, he busied himself with this little project. Small, in the grand scheme of life and fate, but something he took personal joy in. A map he was slowly creating, based on gathered knowledge, his memories, and calculations he had performed.
All was where it should be.
He floated back down the tower and proceeded to the galley. His sensory crystals detected that the palace hadn't changed during all this time. Every stone he had scanned any number of times remained in its place. His subroutines of thought immediately started documenting rates of erosion, taking further note of how the sea breeze must be slowly scouring this whole structure and estimating times when structure integrity would be in jeopardy. He let those mana-thought systems run in the background as his main consciousness focused on the ball at hand. Unlike the others who wore masks, he hardly bothered changing his appearance. His age and unique nature had earned him that privilege and he'd be damned if he starting playing dress up any more than he had to.
He could barely tolerate taking this form as it was.
Antero entered the ballroom with billowing grandeur. His form was on immaculate display as he strode through the great doors. The reflective golden head regarded the fellow gods with curt rotations, and soon turned towards an ever-familiar face.
"Aeliana Elidi, the sun's own. You seek to cause trouble amongst your peers already? We should be spared of such foolishness at least for the first night of reveries, lest you antagonize this ceremony more than it needs to be." He announced to her as he gracefully floated over. The vibrations had been finally calibrated to something less hurtful to the ear, but maintained their hollow, near-monotone reverb. The head slowly rotated and adjusted, taking in the goddess's experience. "Perhaps I can buy my fellow guests time then from your distractions. I am not unfamiliar with noble sacrifice, of course. To what foolishness have you gotten up to since our last meeting, oh daughter of the sun?"
Despite his rhetoric, Antero felt his mana core cool slightly. It was always almost nostalgic meeting Aeliana again, in which his core found comfort.
@NekoKyu
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Lunari Astral Emissary
Member
Seen
3 mos ago
The room was a modest one, themed with decorative butterflies and lined with lights called fairy souls along the cornice. The room scarcely has strong lighting sources, save for the sunlight that spills from the fragmented stained glass window. Servants seldom enjoyed visiting during night hours, calling it a "necropolis", a bit of a running gag between them. Of course, the room's master is highly revered, but she was somewhat of an enigma to the common folk. Some say she has a spectral body. Others say she permanently lives in the other realm. Yet, she still has a personal room in this grand palace, an attestation of her divinity.
Morrígan stared at the clothes. Then at the maids, to the door. Back at the maids. Her violet eyes scanned the outfit. The ladies were looking at each other, "There must be a mistake, Goddess. We can-". Morrígan shook her head. Unexpected, yes. A warranted worry, no, perhaps. There simply wasn't a time to change it, and quite honestly, Morrígan was too lazy to care. In fact, there was a solution right in front of them, "Cloak.", she simply stated while presenting her black cloak already draped around her. Suddenly frantic at this suggestion, the maids protested against the dark goddess.
"Your Holy Majesty! You cannot cover up!"
"At least wear a hood!"
"The newly trained servants must behold your glory!" the three squabbled and fussed, fast pacing towards Morrígan, as if they knew she was about to walk out of the room in her normal outfit. The sparse light in the room hit Morrígan's face in a perfect way that you could make out a scowl. Unknowing and too focused, the maids remained bustling around to prepare her for the masquerade ball this evening.
After a small 'huff', Morrígan gave in quickly. It wasn't worth the hassle, and quite honestly, Morrígan wasn't planning on staying too long. Her outfit didn't matter, much. She eyed it again. Who would be bold enough to play tricks on the death goddess? But the thought quickly disappeared, and while it was a small prank, it remained as that - a small, trifling mess up. Morrígan decided to not think too much about it. Instead, images of all the desserts at the ball floated in her mind. Chocolate treats, hard candy, custard pudding... A sudden tug around her waist snapped her back to reality, stealing the wind out of her chest, "Ffaaaugh...".
"That's not very ladylike.", one maid murmured, pulling it tighter again.
Morrígan stared at the massive double doors that separated her and the ungodly thing called socialisation. She stifled an inner groan as servants weaved around her. There was never a time to rest, which Morrígan sorely needed right now. She pressed her gloved fingers to the body of her mask - a delicate black lace mask that covered the upper half of the face. Her mouth was visible, Morrígan had to be cautious about her lip expressions. Her favourite, of course, was a scowl but none of the humans would take it lightly; least of all, her dear followers. Morrígan mentally smacked her head against the large doors.
With a passing "rather be at home" comment, Morrígan pushed the great doors, revealing herself and the outfit that a jester so kindly picked out. It was a pretty handsome fit, and Morrígan would have appreciated on anyone other than herself. The maids 'kindly' let her keep a large hood on her head, her face barely noticeable, besides her mouth. A silver man's corset - which, by the by, was sucking her soul of her body - paired with a white dress shirt and black suit pants. It was an odd combination one may say; these would end up pioneering modern dressing, but that's a tale for another time. Morrígan stood by the entrance, her gaze swept the room, not meeting a single eye.
A scent caught her attention. It was light enough for it to be far away, but deep enough that she could sense it from inside the palace. Of course he's here, this was the God's Feast after all, though he had a different definition of "feasting". Morrígan began to drift in the opposite direction of the stench, away from the crowd of people. Stealing a longing glance at the food table, Morrígan attached herself to the furthest wall from other gods and goddesses.
Nieve was full of energy, humming away, moreso than the maids attending to dressing. Her bright pastel room fit her personality, yet it was displaced by the mountain of documents by her desk and shiny odd-coloured baubles she brought with her. It was a pleasant contradiction to a certain someone's room, or rooms. Everyone's room was inferior to hers, except the Rebirth Goddess'. The thought put a smile on Nieve's face.
"Your Holiness, I'm afraid there's a problem with your clothing.", Nieve turned to face the maid, her smile turning into bewilderment. She pushed up from her seat, taking a closer look at the garments. "Oh, my. This is very interesting.", she mused. "Who organises the outfits?", Nieve questioned the maid. The lady's face turned pale, "T-the event coordinator, Goddess, but-", Nieve pressed a finger lightly to the maid's lips. "It's ok, I think it's amusing.", she giggled, "I don't remember the last time a coordinator had the bal-, I mean grit to pull off something like this." Nieve did a once over the outfits hung before her. "Might need extra material though."
LOCATION: PALACE OF THE GODS - BALLROOM
Through her mask, Nieve watched the servants swerve around her with a little bow. Nieve didn't mind, it was always busy during the God's Feast. During her stroll down the halls, she noticed the decorations that haven't changed in a few decades. "How boring.", Nieve pouted. She was hoping that there would be a little bit of extra chaos during the ball, not that she was particularly worried that there isn't. There's always time to have fun, especially when every god and goddess are here.
Speaking of others, a little ways in front of her was one of the worst. Nieve was sick of seeing her cloak whenever death happens to a tidebind contractor. "The souls belong to the opposite party!", so she thinks, but the Goddess of Souls always shakes her head. "Souls are not for trade.", the banshee rebukes Nieve's arguments. Seeing that familiar frame put a damper on her mood. Nieve crossed her arms as she stared at Morrígan pushing the doors open.
Nieve slipped in, past Morrígan and into the ballroom, full of bustling people. Nieve became aware of the glances at her bust. Indeed, her outfit was a little outlandish, she was wearing black wide-legged dress pants with a deep blue deep, open chest shirt. The seams, unfortunately, stopped just underneath her chest. The only saving grace was white ruffles hastily sewn into the neck. After all, she was the Goddess of Purity, not Scandalous. Nieve adjusted the simple white mask - a white lotus attached to a side, scanning the room for faces.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a particular shadhavar slinking out as he usually does during events. Donning a mischievous smile and a glint in her blossom eyes, Nieve made her way out to the garden as well.
"Roshi!", Nieve called out over the sound of his... his leafy tunes. "Finally happy for once?", she teased. Nieve placed herself on the fountain's edge, dipping her fingers into its refreshingly cool waters. "Take this!", Nieve gathered water on the tips of her fingers and recoiled her fingers to splash water droplets on Roshan's face.
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BunniesOfDoom Just a bunch of bunnies in a trench coat
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Eyes that flashed silver under the shadows of the tree canopy, a monster was on the hunt once more. The silver flickered in and out of existence as the beast moved behind trees, a shrill call echoing in its throat. It had eyes only for one specific prey that night and it called to it with the tune of its kin. Slowly, silently the beast listened as its head turned this way and that. A flash of white in the darkness, a deer skull lurking within the shadows.
Finally, an answer.
Eyes flicked up to the sky as a shrill call echoed off the canopy. With claws as sharp as daggers and reflexes faster than the eye could see, the wendigo dug his appendages into the bark of the nearby tree and scaled its height with swift strikes. Hand above hand, he pulled himself through the branches until he launched himself through the leaves. High above the canopy now, the beast could see out past the treeline. A setting sun off to the west, a few stars making their first appearance for the night and just before him, a griffin, ripe for the taking.
Death engulfed the poor creature and the two crashed through the canopy, their impact sounding with a sickening crunk and loud thud. Silence fell over the forest once more, except for the vicious sound of crunching bones and slurping marrow.
Getsuy sat back, lounging against the trunk of the nearest tree. One hand rested idly in his lap and the other held a claw of the griffin he had just finished devouring, using it to pick meat from between his vicious canines. His hunger was finally lessened in intensity. Humanity had a small sliver in his silver eyes once more. Hunger was never fully quenched with this beast, his instincts telling him to seek out and devour anything that could feed him but he couldn’t allow those instincts to fuel him that night. No, he had more interesting matters to attend to.
His eyes moved to the east, gazing out into the distance as if he could see past the trees and to the Palace of the Gods. His heightened hearing could hear the music, the conversations of prey. That was his goal that night. He wanted to go see what the whole ball was about. He had never dared to interact with the Festival before. However, that night was different. He was fed and curious. So with a quiet huff, he rose from his relaxed position. With a flick of his wrist he threw the claw down on top the broken and bloody remains of the griffin. Matted fur and hollowed out bones. A vicious grin crossed his face as he crouched on his hunches, feeling the energy building in his legs as he bent down, lower and lower.
Like a shadow of Death, itself, Getsuy made his way through the forest, weaving around trees as he went. The sounds of civilization grew louder until he finally broke through the treeline. He stopped there, silver gazing out at those who came and went. His eyes lingered on a gaggle of masked acolytes as they slowly made their way back to their temple, muttering to each other about trivial matters that made no sense to the beast. Upon the wind, his scent was carried and the group of humans grew silent as they inhaled that unforgettable stench. Some peered over at him, pointing him out to the others of the group and their pace quickened. He silently watched as they hurried along before turning his eyes upon the Palace. Silently, he finally made his approach.
Towering over the simple humans, Getsuy did not bother gazing down upon them as they parted to make his way. One long stride after another took him up the steps to the building until he finally stood before a man. Slowly his skull lowered until he stared down at the red headed boy.
“Move,” his voice vibrated through his chest, a raspy, ghastly sound. When the boy finally stepped out of the creature’s way, he extended an unnaturally long arm. His hand pressed against the seam of the two doors before he gave them a mighty shove. The doors slowly swung open under the pressure and Getsuy stepped through the threshold.
The sounds of conversation and music were a loud hum to the dark beast. His ears flicked on the top of his head as he peered about. Where were the others? He could hear them but it seemed he was in a landing with hallways branching every which way. He stepped up to the first door and opened it. A dressing room of sorts, with odd garments hung up on dangling hangers. He scoffed at the sight before snapping the door closed.
Peering down to the end of the landing, he found a second set of double doors. As he approached them, the sounds of civilization grew louder and louder. He paused for a moment outside the door before he finally pushed them open. Servants turned to smile at the new god to appear to only have those smiles stripped away from them as their eyes fell on Getsuy. Slowly, silence fell upon the ball as all eyes turned to take in his grizzly visage.
Fresh blood still wet upon his cowl, and his all too familiar stench seemed to hush any that gazed upon him. Slowly, he began to take steps out into the grand ballroom. He peered from one god to the next, taking in their forms and scents. He had eaten many of their types but there were a few unfamiliar ones and he inhaled deeply before locking his gaze onto those few mythical creatures. His stomach rumbled lowly at the thought of tasting their flesh upon his tongue.
As one servant hurried along with a tray full of food, Getsuy snatched the poor woman up in his grasp. She squeaked loudly as he pulled her off her feet before the beast grabbed the tray from her hands. He threw the poor girl to the side before picking at the food, a large selection of shish kabobs. Getsuy could never truly understand why others would make such a meager appetizer. He would have to eat hundreds of these to even bring his hunger down to a roaring boil.
He scanned the area again before his eyes fell upon Aeliana and Antero, his nose telling him exactly who it was under the mask. He pondered for a moment if he wanted to even interact with the two but Aeliana had always attempted to be kind to him, even when he didn’t want the company of the fiery woman.
Placing the tray down on the nearest table, one currently occupied by a few lesser gods that he hadn’t bothered to learn the name of, he stepped through the crowd. Much like before, they parted for him as he went. He could feel their gazes upon him, stern and fearful but he paid them no mind. He wasn’t here to make friends with anyone. He was here to sate his curiosity, a different hunger that he sought to feed from time to time.
He eventually came to a stop before the two gods, looking from one to the other. His eyes lingered on the fiery bird for a moment before his nose picked up on the slightest hint of another. The deer man. He always wanted to feel that creature’s meat between his teeth but the man always seemed to have a magical flute with him at all times. Perhaps one day, he will get him alone and he’ll be able to see just what the man tastes like.
He stood silently in front of the pair before muttering a very guttural, “Hello.”
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NekoKyu Queen Persephone, Maiden of Spring
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25 days ago
Roshan continued on with his impromptu concert, his surprising skill at the leaf whistle drawing in a few curious squirrels and birds. His thoughts were successfully focused on the quick switches between notes, that he didn’t immediately notice a new member had joined his audience.
"Roshi!" A playful voice called out to him. Roshan tried not to immediately smile at the sound of Nieve’s teasing.
"Ha, guess I was kind of obvious," he replied with a small, nervous laugh. Sometimes he questioned why he even bothered coming to these festivals in the first place if he was going to spend his energy on avoiding the human servants. For a near-hermit such as himself though, it was a good way to gather information and to see those he cared about.
He turned to meet her gaze, but felt his brain sputter for a split second as he finally took notice of her outfit. It wasn’t the pants that surprised him, but the exposed stomach. Technically, selkies probably usually wore even less when at sea, but it was a sight he wasn’t expecting of her human appearance. He quickly recomposed himself, or at least he tried to, but in that same split second he was taken aback as Nieve splashed him.
As the water obscured his vision for the other half of that split second, Roshan misstepped on the edge of his skirt, throwing off his balance as he fell backwards into the fountain. Great. Here he was showing Nieve his wet appearance again. Was this just to be his fate for the rest of time?
"I, uhh… I thought I was past my swimming days," he joked weakly. The wet strands of hair that fell across his face were cold against his burning skin, flush with embarrassment. Roshan best prepare himself now, as he got the feeling he was never gonna live this down.
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Lunari Astral Emissary
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There was a moment of suspenseful silence between the "splash" and Nieve's joyful laughter.
"HAHA- erm, no. Hehehe. Are you- hehe, are you ok?"
Nieve held out her hand, visibly shaking with suppressed giggles.
"I, uhh… I thought I was past my swimming days." Roshan's face was a delight to behold, Nieve thought he was going to cry. "Hehe, deer for legs." she snorted, then coughed apologetically. "Sorry."
"Here," she stood up, clasping her hand around Roshan's arm. "And besides, there's nothing wrong with a little water." Her eyes twinkled with humour, pulling her shoulder and leg back to awkwardly lift Roshan up. "Also you look very pretty." she complimented, looking him up and down. "If I didn't know any better, I'd believe you were beautiful sister version of you." Nieve studied Roshan's face. "Why are you outside during a masquerade ball?" Nieve looked up distantly into the darkening skies. It was a beautiful blend of early sunset, the clouds dappled across the way as if it were painted on a canvas. It briefly reminded her of home, a colourful tango of corals, sea life and water.
"Why do I bother asking, you're always outside." She looked back at Roshan, an understanding crossing her face before a smile, "Are you planning on taking a Chosen this year?" Plucking a few flowers near the fountain, Nieve began weaving them together. She stared at the stoned path that led back to the ballroom, a wistful look flirting her eyes. "Ahh, I need to see if any catches my fancy." Nieve spoke fondly, remembering her last Chosen.
"Mmm, done!" she nodded happily at the flower crown at completion. "To complete your outfit." she motioned Roshan to bend down, placing the crown on his head a bit haphazardly. It sat crooked on his head, but Nieve thought it was a neat look. "Also you're freakishly tall, any ordinary person would notice you." Nieve stuck her tongue out at Roshan.
Nieve suddenly turned her head to the sounds, and lack thereof, that resounded from the palace ballroom. "Hmm..." Nieve's eyes darted between Roshan and the path.
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NekoKyu Queen Persephone, Maiden of Spring
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25 days ago
Ever a punctual being, it wasn’t long before Antero burst forth into the ballroom with a spectacular flourish. Aeliana had to smother a snort, not because it wasn’t a spectacular sight, but because he always made such a fuss about being worshiped and revered. It wouldn’t do to laugh so openly in front of the humans though. Besides, it wouldn’t do to scare off her entertainment when he was so kind as to save her the trouble by approaching her first.
"Antero, dear, I fear I must inform you that I am not the cause for chaos this time. At least, not for tonight," Aelia replied with a beaming grin. She glanced over the amalgamation of hovering shapes that was her friend. Sure enough, he had forgone tonight’s dress code, as he typically did. However, that was precisely why she had grabbed one of the paper cones in the dressing room earlier. Pleased with herself for her anticipation, she leapt to Antero’s side.
"Oh no, it seems you missed tonight’s memo. The humans worked sooo hard on this masquerade, I would just hate to see their efforts fall short. But don’t worry Antero, I’ve got you covered," Aeliana feigned concern with a gleeful purr. She took the paper cone, which was playfully striped with different colors and decorated with shiny tinsel, and affixed it to Antero’s head… err, orb. "There!" she remarked delightedly at the party hat. Just when did humans create such a silly little accessory?
"Perhaps I can buy my fellow guests time then from your distractions. I am not unfamiliar with noble sacrifice, of course. To what foolishness have you gotten up to since our last meeting, oh daughter of the sun?"
"Oh, you know me. I’ve just been travelling around. I visited some old haunting spots. The plains to the west now have a grand city. Humans ever continue to expand," she mused seemingly absentmindedly. To any unaware eavesdroppers, the conversation probably seemed normal and fitting for gods. To those aware though, that new ‘grand city’ sat atop a long forgotten battle sight. The loss of such history may be purposefully orchestrated, but one couldn’t deny the melancholy it often brought. Time inevitably moves forward.
"What of you, O’ Soothsayer?" Aelia returned the question in kind. Just as the words left her lips, she felt an electric silence rip through the ballroom. Her vibrant blue eyes turned to see what caused the commotion; Getsuy… Of course.
Coated in blood, her thoughts turned quickly to the human greeter, but quickly recognized that Getsuy’s ‘makeup’ was at the very least not human. Although a relief, it was also a surprise. He wasn’t typically one to turn up an easy meal. It must be another bout of humanity peeking through. If it continued to grow as such, would he one day regret or despair?
To add one surprise onto another, Getsuy himself chose to join their table. Although unexpected, Aeliana quickly moved to casually place the Wendigo inbetween her and Antero, seemingly inviting him into their group. In all honest, it was actually in the hopes that Antero could help share responsibility in trying to reign in the newly arrived harbinger of chaos.
”Hello Getsuy! Have you tried the cucumber sandwiches yet?” As she spoke, Aelia grabbed a tray and swiftly plopped it before him. She motioned to the passing servants to keep the trays coming, while she herself would act as conduit for the time being. In this way, she planned to stack trays upon trays on him. It was doubtful it would fill his appetite, but maybe a balancing act might keep him distracted.
@AvaP@BunniesOfDoom
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NekoKyu Queen Persephone, Maiden of Spring
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25 days ago
Sure enough, Nieve was predictably amused by his predicament. Thank goodness his humiliation would only be temporary. He shuddered to imagine the scene being immortalized in portrait form and paraded around for others to see. At least in this way his only witness was Nieve, although he would much prefer she not always see his clumsy flubs.
Roshan could only let out a huff of resignation when she called out his ‘deer for legs’. At this point he had practically earned it, so there wasn’t really much arguing he could do. "Physically, I’m fine," he answered as his comrade’s petite form helped him rise up from the waters, "but my pride…" Bruised and sopping, surely. Not too different from their first meeting really. Perhaps one day he would manage to improve her initial impression of him and turn such memories into ancient history.
"Also you look very pretty."
"Uhhhh…. Thank you? Uh, so do you?" Roshan hesitantly responded, his brow raised in confusion. While he was a bit used to Nieve’s teasing, he couldn’t quite connect what she was implying just yet.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd believe you were beautiful sister version of you."
"Wait— What? What do you mean?” He began to grumble as he now followed the woman’s pink-eyed gaze to inspect his own outfit as well. The fabric was weighed down a bit from the water, but being made of black lace made it at least somewhat resistant. "It’s a little more fancy, sure, but aren’t these things always fancy?"
Nieve thankfully didn’t inquire further about his absence from the ballroom, but she did bring up a topic that was just as cumbersome: Chosen Ones. Unlike her, Roshan wasn’t particularly fond of human company. He found them distrustful and cruel, although at least on this land that cruelty was mostly directed at each other. He didn’t enjoy the lengths humans would go to just to get a Gods’ attention either. Being around them made his soul itch, he couldn’t imagine willfully choosing to have a human always around at his beck and call. However, he wasn’t about to rain on her parade.
"No, I don’t think I will. You have fun with that though," he answered as gently as he could while he stood back with his arms crossed, curiously watching the selkie with her flowers. He felt a prick of conscience as her eyes flickered toward the cobblestone path. Ah, he was holding her back, wasn’t he?
"Mmm, done! To complete your outfit," Nieve had declared, a crown woven of flowers held in her hands. Roshan chortled softly as he bent over obediently to accept her offering. He personally felt it would’ve looked better on her, but he quickly realized he should’ve known that it was never intended for herself.
"Also you're freakishly tall, any ordinary person would notice you."
"This height is normal for my kind though," he informed in earnest. Even in his memories, he could still recall the towering figures of his parents and grandparent. "Ah, does that mean you’re ordinary?" Roshan asked curiously, only for his face to quickly become painted in flustered nervousness. "Height, I mean! Ordinary height!" he added in a small panic.
During their time together, Roshan once again noticed her attention drawn back towards the palace. She must really want to go back, he thought guiltily. He took in a deep breath, then offered out a hand to Nieve. "Would you like me to escort you back?"
@Lunari
Antero was about to recount his latest studies to the phoenix when the unmistakable presence of death entered the room. Ocular crystals whirled and began measuring the creature's mana levels, studying and comparing readings from last year's festival. The mana-conginition algorithms hummed into the background of his main consciousness as he focused more seriously on the god closing the distance. He was under no illusion as to what this thing desired most and could already feel automated combat protocols beginning to form gravity spells.
He silenced them. Willed his core to settle, and took what amounted to a deep breath for his kind.
This creature was restrained. A tragedy of magic and humanity. Something to be studied and cured, not crushed into mulch, unless it indulged in its old impulses again. He focused on those data points, all of this happening in a mere blink of an eye, as the golden head of the mana-entity regarded the wendigo's arrival. Much to his shared surprise with his companion, however, the god chose their table to come to a rest at.
Odd.
It stood for an uncomfortable period, silently staring at them before it could mutter a greeting.
”Hello Getsuy! Have you tried the cucumber sandwiches yet?” said Aeliana as she commandeered a passing tray. So that was the game. A foolish one, as far as Antero could assess. This creature's appetite could never be satiated by mere "finger sandwiches" and would hardly serve as a distraction. The golden pentakisdodecahedron regarded the creature, no emotion discernible on its reflective, golden surface.
A small blessing.
"Ah, the God of Death. What have you come to discuss with the daughter of the sun and the Great Chronicler? Perhaps you've developed a fascination with our history in the past year?" he said. The voice was that of the usual, near-monotone reverb, denoting nothing of the conflicting information that filled his core.
@NekoKyu@BunniesOfDoom
He silenced them. Willed his core to settle, and took what amounted to a deep breath for his kind.
This creature was restrained. A tragedy of magic and humanity. Something to be studied and cured, not crushed into mulch, unless it indulged in its old impulses again. He focused on those data points, all of this happening in a mere blink of an eye, as the golden head of the mana-entity regarded the wendigo's arrival. Much to his shared surprise with his companion, however, the god chose their table to come to a rest at.
Odd.
It stood for an uncomfortable period, silently staring at them before it could mutter a greeting.
”Hello Getsuy! Have you tried the cucumber sandwiches yet?” said Aeliana as she commandeered a passing tray. So that was the game. A foolish one, as far as Antero could assess. This creature's appetite could never be satiated by mere "finger sandwiches" and would hardly serve as a distraction. The golden pentakisdodecahedron regarded the creature, no emotion discernible on its reflective, golden surface.
A small blessing.
"Ah, the God of Death. What have you come to discuss with the daughter of the sun and the Great Chronicler? Perhaps you've developed a fascination with our history in the past year?" he said. The voice was that of the usual, near-monotone reverb, denoting nothing of the conflicting information that filled his core.
@NekoKyu@BunniesOfDoom
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BunniesOfDoom Just a bunch of bunnies in a trench coat
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Getsuy was a man of very few words. As the goddess placed a plate of food in front of him, his eyes lowered to the platter and he took a deep inhale. The food smelled far too much like plants to entice him, so he chose to ignore it as he turned his eyes onto the crowd about him. Now those gods and goddesses, those would be quite savory.
As the golden god of odd shapes and machinery addressed him, the grim being turned his silvery eyes onto the creature's form. He pondered for a moment, questioning if he could even consume such a creature. Surely had had plenty of magic to animate him but the wendigo was unsure if he could properly devour him to absorb such magic. Deciding that it would be far too much work for little to no food, he finally addressed the man.
”I was-” his head tilted slightly, his silver eyes flashing violently before he continued, ”curious.” A second platter of food was placed directly in front of Getsuy, this one with juicy, finely cut pieces of meat with a delicate sauce dribbled along them. Getsuy watched the servant hurry off, keeping her head low and her eyes cast to the ground. When she felt his eyes on her, her pace hastened.
The wendigo watched the girl until she disappeared behind a door then turned his eyes to the slices of meat. He inhaled, examining the new food. This platter was far more enticing to him and he pinched a piece between his thumb and index claws. Practically inhaling the piece, he chewed only once before swallowing it completely. He wasn't a fan of the sauce but the meat was pleasant enough.
He took his time, slowly eating one piece at a time. There were rules to civilization, rules that seemed to linger in the back of his mind whenever humanity peeked through. Though he did not feel he should follow such rules and would abandon them with the drop of a hat, he was civil enough that night to follow them well enough. Instead of devouring the food like the ravenous, starving beast he was, he restrained himself well enough to eat the food properly, if only a little quickly.
In between two pieces of meat, he paused a mocuriousment before locking his eyes on Aeliana. ”I smell the deer.” The unspoken question lingered in the air as he continued to eat. Where was he? Upon finishing the food, Getsuy turned to Antero with a grunt. ”Your acolytes move quickly.” He didn't truly mean anything by the statement. It was just a casual statement meant to spark conversation but he was very bad at casual conversations.
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NekoKyu Queen Persephone, Maiden of Spring
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25 days ago
Oof. The tension was palpably thick. It was understandable, sure, considering Getsuy’s... reputation. This continuing 'game' of stacking more and more trays wasn't exactly on Aeliana's list of planned activities either. Unfortunately, with so many humans present she felt that cold need to play babysitter, if only at least for the sake of harmony.
...Oh god, Aelia protecting harmony? The very thought forced her to repress a shiver. In any other situation she would very happily be fighting for the side of playful chaos. She glanced at Antero, her eyes quietly begging for an excuse to misbehave. Safely, of course.
"I smell the deer."
"Hmm?" Aeliana feigned a look of ignorance. There were really only a small, teeny tiny pool—no, puddle of reasons for Getsuy the Ravenous to be fixated upon something or someone. And though more human than usual, she doubted his current interests extended to music.
"Oh! Venison! Yes, I'm sure that they have venison prepared as well!" The phoenix announced quite loudly, purposefully so that it would be easy for her words to be overheard. It obviously wasn’t what Getsuy had meant.
Aelia grabbed another tray and noted that the spread was getting less formal and more and more…carnivorous. Smart. Less preparation needed to just put out a slab of meat, especially if left mostly or fully raw. "Oh dear," the woman faked her concern, "let me know if you’d like it cooked a bit more Getsuy darling." She gave what looked to be a playful wink as she flicked a little dancing sparkle of flame between her fingers. The gesture was more for show, since she felt certain the wendigo didn’t care much for a meal's level of doneness, if at all.
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The Savant A mind filled with chaos
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14 days ago
He honestly thought this whole thing was a joke, myth, or something they told people story-wise to scare them into being shitty or something. Baron continuously tugged at the formal neckline of his outfit — How uncomfortable… he thought to himself as he was in one of the hallways and not in complete attendance of the gods and goddesses. ‘Why did I have to get picked for such a thing? Alfred was doing better than me before he hurt his damn knee…’ he barely spoke above his breath with those words while he adjusted the suit a little more to feel… comfortable? If one could even refer to this situation as comfortable.
Clearing his throat as he walked down the hallway, he put on the black mask that was emphasized to wear and keep on at all times. This was not odd to him because he had attended plenty of formal gatherings that were masquerade themed… however, he always got to wear his knightly armor as an option. That was not an option for tonight.
Once he felt composed and knew he had everything that he should, his sword was still strapped to his side, because he was a knight afterall. He was going to attend this event with clear indicators that he was a knight and that was his position — a protector, defender, and someone that understood leadership and knightly ways. Opening the doors and stepping into the large room, he looked around at all the hidden faces, and the ones that clearly stood out as gods and goddesses. There was a difference between the energies and how they carried themselves.
Baron was standing tall as the doors closed behind him and his eyes scanned the room with thoughtful observation. He wasn’t sure if he should approach anyone and start a conversation or not. Would the deities take offense to that? He has never been to one of these before. Then he noticed the hooded figure that was alone, not in any serious interaction, and wearing a peculiar outfit. He decided to approach her, barely a smile, but that was his usual — he couldn’t force a big smile out unless it was genuine. ‘Madam,’ he bowed his head and shoulders. ‘I’m Knight Grand Cross —’ That’s when he stopped himself. Was he supposed to say his name at this type of event? Probably not. He chuckled slightly, ‘I guess I shouldn’t share my name when it’s supposed to be a ball of mystery. I hope you are finding the start of the evening to be tolerable?’
At most of the other masquerade balls that he had attended by nobles and other individuals in the past, he was able to introduce himself fully, but he had no idea what the rules or etiquette for this type of place would be. He doubted that it was anything different than royal events or other events of high nobility that he has been to. Plus, he was pretty sure he attended balls that were held by gods or goddesses in the past, but he was there as a knight and only a knight. Here... it was different. Almost as if he was an animal in a zoo. They were all watching and waiting to see if they could pick someone that they desired to work for them. It was a game of cat and mouse. So who would be the juiciest mice? That made his eyes scan the room before going back to the lady in front of him.
Clearing his throat as he walked down the hallway, he put on the black mask that was emphasized to wear and keep on at all times. This was not odd to him because he had attended plenty of formal gatherings that were masquerade themed… however, he always got to wear his knightly armor as an option. That was not an option for tonight.
Once he felt composed and knew he had everything that he should, his sword was still strapped to his side, because he was a knight afterall. He was going to attend this event with clear indicators that he was a knight and that was his position — a protector, defender, and someone that understood leadership and knightly ways. Opening the doors and stepping into the large room, he looked around at all the hidden faces, and the ones that clearly stood out as gods and goddesses. There was a difference between the energies and how they carried themselves.
Baron was standing tall as the doors closed behind him and his eyes scanned the room with thoughtful observation. He wasn’t sure if he should approach anyone and start a conversation or not. Would the deities take offense to that? He has never been to one of these before. Then he noticed the hooded figure that was alone, not in any serious interaction, and wearing a peculiar outfit. He decided to approach her, barely a smile, but that was his usual — he couldn’t force a big smile out unless it was genuine. ‘Madam,’ he bowed his head and shoulders. ‘I’m Knight Grand Cross —’ That’s when he stopped himself. Was he supposed to say his name at this type of event? Probably not. He chuckled slightly, ‘I guess I shouldn’t share my name when it’s supposed to be a ball of mystery. I hope you are finding the start of the evening to be tolerable?’
At most of the other masquerade balls that he had attended by nobles and other individuals in the past, he was able to introduce himself fully, but he had no idea what the rules or etiquette for this type of place would be. He doubted that it was anything different than royal events or other events of high nobility that he has been to. Plus, he was pretty sure he attended balls that were held by gods or goddesses in the past, but he was there as a knight and only a knight. Here... it was different. Almost as if he was an animal in a zoo. They were all watching and waiting to see if they could pick someone that they desired to work for them. It was a game of cat and mouse. So who would be the juiciest mice? That made his eyes scan the room before going back to the lady in front of him.
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mmori Caffeinated Zombie
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16 days ago
█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ | █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ | Out of the hustle and bustle of preparations for the masquerade ball, a lone servant was sitting out in the garden with a short trowel digging up unsightly weeds. Sure, she was supposed to not wear her normal working robes and be in appropriate attire - but how could she just let them sit here while the Gods were expected to show up momentarily? Unfortunately, that was an excuse for someone like Arinyra who tended to cover up heavily in her earthy-green colored garments. It was until one of the maids scurried over and tapped her on the shoulder. "Nyra, I knew you would be here! You're supposed to be getting ready... And you are still in your work clothes, no less!" An insistent tone was ushered at the gardener's direction as the modestly dolled-up maid rasped in a whisper. "What if they see you like this? A pitiful mud-person playing in the dirt? Come on, come on. Hurry." A gentle push was given towards their fellow coworker to move them away from view. Arinyra looked pensive, trowel still in both of her hands clutched tightly while she was being corralled to the servant's quarters. "The palace was stuffy, I needed some air - You know, I would prefer it that I don't get chosen? What if they just... Vanish me. On the spot." The robed servant murmured with hesitation, feather-light toned while giving some resistance as she was still being shepherded away by the maid. Her coworker meant well, Arinyra knew this, but how she was being escorted from her work was mildly grating, at the very least. "They aren't looking to vanish you on the spot. If anything, they might just ignore you if you don't stick out. You just won't be pick as their chosen, that's all." The maid daintily dismissed the concerns while shaking her head. "That would be ideal." Nyra grumbled low, side-glancing at the astonished expression her coworker was making until she knew they were nearing their quarters. Both of their feet lightly scurried to pass through the servant passageways, squeezing past a group of servants excitedly chatting about the festival, gossiping about the latest news that Arinyra was clearly missing! Well, no matter, she can always look forward to listening to them later. Slipping through the door before another group was in their way, the sounds of chatter deafened slightly and Nyra hung the trowel in her little tool cabinet. Once removing her external robes, the maid gasped and accentuated her horror at Nyra's unfortunate condition. "Nyra, I told you that you should only work kitchen duty before the Great Festival! What am I going to do with you." The maid pouted, even if her grimace was partly hidden by the black mask she was donning. Arinyra was covered in raw rashes and blisters, from her wrists, hands, and parts of her face - but she didn't seem too discomposed while thoughtlessly scratching at the back of her hand. The maid made sure to slap her itching hand to prevent her from opening more blisters. "Ooh, ouch. They are sure to ignore me now. I look absolutely repulsive, we can't insult the eyes of our great deities, can we?" The wry gardener dryly said while chuckling, casually putting on the attire assigned for her for the event. While she was putting on her full face mask, the maid impatiently rolled her eyes and headed for the door. "You are absolutely hopeless, you know that? Just get to the ball on time!" Once the Festival was eventually rolling to its start, Arinyra showed up, as much as she was apprehensive about the whole ordeal. Being in the presence of the Gods themselves? It made her feel squished into a corner from the mere intimidation she felt towards them. Clad in the appropriate attire and mask, with her dusty gold hair tied up high and voluminous in a ponytail, the servant decided to find her people posthaste. Sidling towards a group of fellow gardeners gossiping, Arinyra cordially and quietly greeted them in her gentle tone and did what she did best. Blend into obscurity. "Hello, ladies." Arinyra smoothly wormed her way into a small circle of fellow gardeners bringing out potted flowers, sneaking an observing glance at the deities finally making their appearance one by one. Each of them in the modest gardener's eyes proved to be foreboding by the next one that arrived. Or maybe that was because all of them was in the palace and all of them combined just oppressed the atmosphere. Dipping her gaze down to the comfortable circle of her coworkers, she decided it was time to mind her own business. Listening to something more down to earth while working on removing wilted flowers and arranging new floral decorations in their planters was the best bet in surviving this festival. | █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ | █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ |
Location: Ballroom
Tags: None uwu
Tags: None uwu
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Ducksworth Quack.
Member
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14 hrs ago
Though Melion had traversed the path to the Festival many times before, there remained one indignity he had never learned to stomach, water. For all his associations with bloom and bounty, his dominion ended where the water began. Water was necessary, yes, but not like this. Not endless and heaving. Not the gut-lurching pull of tide beneath a boat’s belly. And so, when his bare feet finally touched the sun-warmed stone of the island’s dock, he stepped down with the reverence of a man kissing holy ground. His usual complexion, radiant and golden as spun honey, had taken on the pallor of crushed sage.
For a while, he disappeared to a quiet plot just beyond the formal gardens. He always did. Over time, the space had grown to suit him, foxglove, milkweed, and clover sprang freely here, forming a microcosm of the wild, an offering to his presence. His bees, soft-bodied and drowsy with pollen, flitted between petals, brushing against the leaves as if in quiet worship.
Melion knelt, barefoot and bare-chested, letting his fingertips sink into the loam. His breath steadied. The silence here was not empty, it pulsed with memory and rhythm, with the language of green things. Were mortals to find this grove, it would not be long before they built a shrine. But for Melion, it was simply a place to breath and restore. He let the bees rest on him, one on his shoulder, another behind his ear. Then, when he felt the weight of sickness replaced by the steadiness of rooted life, he rose.
The marble steps to the palace felt cool beneath his soles, each step a quiet hymn. His gait was unhurried, fluid as a stalk in the wind. The Feast was still young, and the hushed air of anticipation clung to the halls like perfume but already, Melion could sense the pulse of festivity humming.
At the threshold stood a greeter, a young man with a crown of red hair and a diplomat’s poise. They exchanged nods, words were sparse but cordial. Melion neither delayed nor dwelled; the routine was familiar now, though never stale. He allowed himself to be guided through winding halls toward the dressing suites. Each step he took left a faint, momentary shimmer on the floor, as if pollen had graced the marble and vanished.
The chamber that awaited him was opulent, strung with dresses and robes in a rainbow of silks and sheer gauze. For most, this might be a moment of grand selection, but Melion had always struggled with the attire offered in years past. Too tight. Too sculpted. Too unnatural. He preferred garments that breathed like living things, those that fluttered, that spilled, that refused to cling. This year, however, was different.
He wandered through the fabric displays in silence, trailing his fingers along sleeves and hems. The air carried the scent of pressed lavender and ink. A few bees hovered at the ceiling. The selection was finer, more thoughtful. But still, he waited. Then, a whisper of wings. A single blue morpho butterfly descended from the rafters and landed lightly on the edge of a hanging gown. It fanned its wings once. Melion smiled, a slow understanding.
The gown it had chosen was exquisite. It began in a deep, near-black midnight blue at the single-shouldered strap, where fabric clung loosely across his collarbone like dusk embracing twilight. As it descended, the color lightened, cool peacock blue over the chest and waist, then fading to a smoky teal as it flowed down to his ankles. Sheer panels revealed glimpses of golden skin beneath, layered with graceful asymmetry that mimicked the fall of petals after rain. The waist was cinched not by corset or stitch, but by a delicate golden chain, loose enough to sway with each step.
His right arm remained bare. Around his bicep he fitted a circlet of beaten gold, unadorned, but perfect. It shimmered like a sunbeam through treetops. The mask, of course, completed him. Smooth, sculpted, and elegant, the same midnight hue as the dress’s shoulder. It curved up at the temples into flared arcs, suggestive of divinity without ostentation. It covered his eyes and the bridge of his nose, matte in finish but dusted with a spectral shimmer. Subtle etchings curled along its edges like vines or the veins of leaves. Through the twin eyeholes, his golden irises shone like twin lanterns, luminous and unreadable.
Satisfied, he allowed the mirror a final glance, then turned toward the double doors. They parted before him with a slow, silken groan, revealing a ballroom already steeped in scent and splendour. Light spilled through stained glass, fractured into ribbons across the floor. Music curled faintly in the air, not yet jubilant, still laced with restraint. Servants flitted between tables, and here and there, gods mingled beneath banners and chandeliers, effortlessly divine, each a beacon of domain and design.
Melion’s arrival did not turn heads so much as still them. His presence was not thunderous, but quiet, rooted. A bloom among fire, frost, and storm. Some stared, curious or intrigued, while others, gods less swayed by novelty, offered polite nods or brief appraisals before returning to their conversations.
Among those gathered, he noted two presences familiar to him, though distant in nature. Gutsey, seldom seen in conversation and yet somehow now engaged, stood now in curious contrast to his usual solitude. Morrígan lingered too, a figure carved in shadow and grace. Though their domains were separate, mortals often wove tales pairing them as a natural duality, decay and renewal, ending and beginning. Melion had always found the assumption quaint. Useful for ballads, perhaps, but misleading. She was not a gardener of endings, and he not a ward against them. He did not disturb either.
Instead, he drifted past silver platters and velvet curtains, toward the gardens beyond, where the air grew looser around the lungs. Out here, the scent of flora overpowered perfume. The hush of water, whether from the island’s encirclement or the careful work of mortal hands, played against his skin like a blessing. The sky above was soft with dying light.
He settled onto a stone bench with one leg draped loosely over the other, hands resting atop his knee. From here, he could watch as his bees meandered freely, weaving between blooms with lazy delight. A jade-winged butterfly nestled into his hair, unnoticed. His expression softened. Let the Feast bloom on inside. He would join in time, as was proper, but now savoured the company of simpler things.
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Lunari Astral Emissary
Member
Seen
3 mos ago
Character Sheet
MASQUERADE BALL (no music I lost a braincell)
LOCATION: PALACE OF THE GODS - BALLROOM
MENTIONS: @The Savant @BunniesOfDoom
MASQUERADE BALL (no music I lost a braincell)
LOCATION: PALACE OF THE GODS - BALLROOM
MENTIONS: @The Savant @BunniesOfDoom
The stench hits her faster than his appearance. Morrígan didn't turn her head to see who opened the doors. A dark, unseen force rippled throughout the air and a cold shiver ran through her spine. Her instincts kicked in as the dark beast treaded through the open space.
'Run'
But where to?
'Stop'
Her vision blurred, tempting itself into darkness.
'Death approaches'
No, Morrígan's precognition hasn't kicked in - but the deathly stench overwhelmed whatever bare scent that foresaw one's death.
'Protect the souls'
And with what power?
Morrígan stood her ground, watching with wary eyes as the wendigo interacted with Aelia and Antero; the three of them were eldest amongst all of the monsters who have paraded as deities, seen and participated in the long wars that stole her mentor's last sanity. Morrígan blinked, bowing her head slightly. The thoughts didn't match the jovial-
Well, it was quiet far from joyful at this current moment, but the peace seemed to maintain, at least for now.
Quite frankly, the whole fiasco in front of Morrígan seemed like a bad joke. As much as a joke as she wished it were, even if the music alighted with elegance upon the ballroom, the thick unseen tension and the line they tip-toed around the god of the hunt. Were he not satisfied, this ballroom could turn into a disaster within seconds. Was it luck or sheer coincidence that he was sane and had self-control this night? Morrígan had no way of knowing.
Her slight curiousity faded as she sensed an incoming presence beside her. It was...
'Human...', she thought wistfully. Morrígan hadn't anticipated someone to approach her voluntarily, even the reincarnates - her precious believers - paid a reverence to her in the form of... space. Yet she did not float away from this man. For one, she wanted to see what the wendigo will do next. The door leading to freedom was far away as well. Morrígan did not bode well in social settings, but she was not rude. She watched with furrowed brows as Getsuy weaved through a platter of deli in a bestial grace known only to him. The servants worked hard to make sure the platter remained full, and what hubris that was.
Morrígan's attention snapped back to the human next to her, catching the last part of his sentence.
"- finding the start of the evening to be tolerable?". She nodded slightly, tilting her head slightly towards the gentleman. It was painfully obvious that he was a knight. The sword next to him stuck out like a sore thumb - though Morrígan guessed that was his intention. A knight is always proud, as one should be. She peered down at him, and saw a full life reflected in his iris. "It is... pleasant." she muttered a response to the human knight. The word 'pleasant' was a mockery to herself - crowds and Getsuy's presence did not suit her, but what was one to do? She stayed still to keep to her duty. Morrígan, as hidden her face is, kept staring at the knight before asking in an attempt at polite conversation, "Are you... enjoying the night?"
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There were a great many factors that prevented him from rising to the statement the windigo made. Firstly, it was that he understood all too well that, while the supposed "God of Death" was many things, an orator he was not. Secondly, there was, of course, the accord that kept all the gods present at bay. The many human servants were disgustingly seen as disposable to an extent, but the gods themselves would never dare break this fragile peace that kept them all alive. Finally, his curiosity, more than anything, lit up at that statement. Mana cores warmed as he began to practically decipher the otherwise benign statement.
"What did this walking tragedy of ancient magics mean by that?" Antero wondered internally. He was certain his followers were accounted for, nor did they have any temples near the beast's hunting grounds. Had they launched some sort of expedition? Encountered the beast? Or maybe...
Antero guacked, logic systems screaming to a stop. "No, it couldn't possibly be!" he thought with astonishment.
This creature was trying to communicate! This was an attempt at "small talk"!
The golden glow of Antero's head softened as he regarded the windigo in a new light. What progress this creature had made since they had last met. He had all too many vivid memories of this beast stalking the wounded and dying. A mere creature, a menace, an animal made from not nature, but corrupting and foul magic that even he had yet to fully understand, assuming he even wanted such knowledge. He noticed now that the creature was eating meticulously from the platter, a careful, strangling restraint. There could be potential here to perhaps fully tame this beast once and for all and find an origin to its strange curse. After all, a calm beast was an easier object of study than a hostile one, and far more useful than a dead one.
"What a fascinating development. Perhaps this trip was not a waste after all." Antero thought with a growing sense of interest.
Again, the Chronicler showed little change, aside from the glow of its head, as it finally spoke. "They are adept travelers. Those who wish to gain wisdom and knowledge with such a restrained life span must learn to move with efficiency and speed, or else be left behind by time. Something that you or I take for granted, but humans, at least some of them, do not. It's why they can be so adaptable, industrious. Perhaps you, too, have noticed this trait of theirs?" Antero said with his usual monotone voice.
He then regarded the phoenix as well. "Aeliana, do not think I did not notice that insufferable pun. Of all the developments of the spoken and written word, this is the most tragic consequence I have seen rise from it. One of the lowest forms of comedy I have ever had to document as a Chronicler. But, as with any tragedy, it must be dutifully remembered," he said. It was a jab, but one meant to disarm, rather than antagonize. Already, the crystalline receptors were picking up on the growing unnervingness of his fellow god. That said, he did admire her determination to keep the windigo's attention from the other gods, particularly the one he mentioned.
" For as much progress this is, it is still, after all, a simple beast..." he thought with a sigh.
@NekoKyu@BunniesOfDoom
"What did this walking tragedy of ancient magics mean by that?" Antero wondered internally. He was certain his followers were accounted for, nor did they have any temples near the beast's hunting grounds. Had they launched some sort of expedition? Encountered the beast? Or maybe...
Antero guacked, logic systems screaming to a stop. "No, it couldn't possibly be!" he thought with astonishment.
This creature was trying to communicate! This was an attempt at "small talk"!
The golden glow of Antero's head softened as he regarded the windigo in a new light. What progress this creature had made since they had last met. He had all too many vivid memories of this beast stalking the wounded and dying. A mere creature, a menace, an animal made from not nature, but corrupting and foul magic that even he had yet to fully understand, assuming he even wanted such knowledge. He noticed now that the creature was eating meticulously from the platter, a careful, strangling restraint. There could be potential here to perhaps fully tame this beast once and for all and find an origin to its strange curse. After all, a calm beast was an easier object of study than a hostile one, and far more useful than a dead one.
"What a fascinating development. Perhaps this trip was not a waste after all." Antero thought with a growing sense of interest.
Again, the Chronicler showed little change, aside from the glow of its head, as it finally spoke. "They are adept travelers. Those who wish to gain wisdom and knowledge with such a restrained life span must learn to move with efficiency and speed, or else be left behind by time. Something that you or I take for granted, but humans, at least some of them, do not. It's why they can be so adaptable, industrious. Perhaps you, too, have noticed this trait of theirs?" Antero said with his usual monotone voice.
He then regarded the phoenix as well. "Aeliana, do not think I did not notice that insufferable pun. Of all the developments of the spoken and written word, this is the most tragic consequence I have seen rise from it. One of the lowest forms of comedy I have ever had to document as a Chronicler. But, as with any tragedy, it must be dutifully remembered," he said. It was a jab, but one meant to disarm, rather than antagonize. Already, the crystalline receptors were picking up on the growing unnervingness of his fellow god. That said, he did admire her determination to keep the windigo's attention from the other gods, particularly the one he mentioned.
" For as much progress this is, it is still, after all, a simple beast..." he thought with a sigh.
@NekoKyu@BunniesOfDoom
BunniesOfDoom Just a bunch of bunnies in a trench coat
Member
Seen
2 days ago
She was playing coy. Even Getsuy with the limited human capacity could understand what she was currently doing. As she spoke far louder than her normal level, Getsuy allowed his silver eyes to linger on her. He said nothing, showed no emotion towards it. He would let it sit for now. He would find out where the deer had gone. It was only a matter of following his nose.Speaking of nose.
The smell of Panic. Getsuy froze as the scent reached him. His head snapped up suddenly and like a shark locking onto a trail of blood, his gaze focused on Morrigan standing all alone off on the other side of the room. His focus locked in on her and he felt a stirring in his chest that ripped through him like a violent tidal wave. His breath began to deepen as he took more and more of her scent in. A dark aura seemed to accumulate around him, his blood roaring in his ears. His eyes didn’t move from Morrigan for even a moment. He slowly turned towards her, his hands flexing.
He took a step, his body slowly crouching, then a second scent hit him like a smack in the face. Flowers and honey. He inhaled deeply. The scent flooded his senses and with it came the calm that smell evoked within him. A grove of gentle flowers. A silent friendship. His eyes closed for the first time since he stepped into that ballroom and his gaze finally snapped off the banshee. He turned to the door where Melion stepped through in an elegant dress and mask. Getsuy slowly straightened, his arms finally falling at his sides, Morrigan seeming to have been all but forgotten.
He stood still there by the table, watching as the god of growth made his way across the room. His gaze remained on Melion until he left to go settle in the garden. Only then did Getsuy turn back to the table. He grabbed a handful of the meat before stuffing it into his mouth, trying to calm the raging vortex in his chest that was sparked by Morrigan’s panic. Another tray of food was set before him by a rushing waiter. It had what looked to be large turkey legs, barely grilled and obviously freshly ripped from the rest of the turkey. He snatched one, tearing into it.
As Antero answered his comment, explaining why humans would always be in such a hurry, his ear flicked in the god’s direction. He was beginning to bring that torrent in his chest back into control. Melion’s scent was helping him wrangle it back in where it needed to be.
He continued to eat and that tiny sliver of humanity began to grow just a bit more. His pace slowed as he took a more controlled bite of the turkey leg and he carefully set down the bare bone in the other hand that he hadn’t noticed he was still holding onto. It was almost as if he had woken from a dream. He looked between the two gods next to him before he surveyed the mess before him. Four bare turkey bones, one half eaten in his grip, and juices dripping down onto his cowl. One of the four bones had even been snapped open, the marrow slurped from it.
He placed the unfinished turkey leg painstakingly slow down onto the platter. He reached up with a claw to wipe a drop of juice from his jaw. Perhaps, it was time for him to leave but first, he wished to officially greet a friend. Without another word, he turned from the table and began to head for the double doors that lead out into the garden, trailing along within Melion’s scent, taking a deep inhale with each step. He pushed the doors open and stepped out into the fresh air.
@AvaP@Lunari@Ducksworth@NekoKyu
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mmori Caffeinated Zombie
Member
Seen
16 days ago
█ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ | █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ | Looking busy when it wasn't her strong suit, especially when she was working in the presence of the actual Gods themselves in the very same room was growing to be a bit of a trouble. Flower arrangement was fine. Was it really her favorite hobby though? Not really. She preferred plants left alone in the garden, and she even grazed on the spring weeds that were edible. Even the weeds she foraged before the Festival were going in her soup later with cloves of garlic. Just the thought of it was making her hungry. But, for the small span of time she had been here in training, the fellow maids tried to teach her the art of flower language and the reasons behind their placements in bouquets. Arinyra grasped some of it, yes, but it was such a surmountable thing to memorize them all. Her thought wandered, the background chatter only lulled to a droning sound while she picked the stems to tidy them for presentation. One of the gardeners caught sight of her spacing out, giving her a leer for her to pay attention however. Arinyra shifted her eyes behind her black mask, not that her fellow coworker could tell she was trying to smile at them in an appeasing manner. "Sorry, I should get to exchanging out the wilted flowers. Over there." She excused herself in a hurry, carrying a bushel of orange gladioli and red irises in her arms. Her steps were carried quietly while she walked the span of the ballroom, then found herself immediately shrinking right up to a pillar when she noticed the God of Death and the Hunt himself charge on through. She might as well be flat as one of the banners hanging and fluttered in the rafters. For her own sake, Nyra was a nobody. Once she saw that he was gone through the doors leading towards the garden, she hurriedly walked to an isolated corner of the ballroom with slightly wilted plants in their vases. They weren't particularly dead, per say. The flowers were in a rather floppy state, stems feeling a tad squishy to the touch and the petals did not hold their weight. Nyra figured they would do wonderfully dried in her room, otherwise the maids would have tossed them by now. Not really minding that she was literally shoving half-wilted flowers into her dress where ever they could be held for the time being, she exchanged them with the new ones that were prepped by the more experienced flower-arranging gardeners. Onto the next corner for new flowers, Arinyra couldn't help but to sneak glances at what was happening while she was busying herself with her tasks. Did someone get evaporated into ashes yet? No? Well, it could happen sooner or later. Tales of paranoid hunters during her time in the mountains said that you can easily annoy a god, and your life is forfeit. Futzing around with the flowers in her blemish covered hands, she couldn't help but nitpick at how the bouquet was sitting in their pot. Suddenly, Nyra's eyes detracted from her current duty and took sight of a wandering stray bee buzzing through the array of colorful flowers sitting before her. "I think you'll find the garden a better place to fly around, little one. Ample place to fly too." The masked gardener whispered to the striped insect, then reminded herself there was more work to be done and got to gently sticking in stems into the pot - just as she should be doing. | █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ | █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ █ |
Location: Ballroom
Tags: None uwu
Tags: None uwu
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The Savant A mind filled with chaos
Member
Seen
14 days ago
The man noticed how the woman was focused on something else and followed her eyes across the room to the beast. He watched for a moment, but his attention went back to her when she spoke. How she responded caused him to let out an amused huff. Either she was disinterested in the party, his approaching, or both… he didn’t blame her at all. Baron didn’t want to be here himself, but his commanding officers encouraged it. This was his first ever… occasion. Whatever this could be called, he wasn’t necessarily about it, but duty was duty.
‘Maybe something more exciting will happen throughout the night,’ he casually said while scanning the room — he doubted it. He hoped that nothing too exciting happened during this event, because he didn’t want to work or get into something he regretted. This was way above his pay grade in his eyes, and he wished he were back in the barracks or even on a manhunt compared to this. Balls and decorative events were never for him.
His eyes glanced back to the woman who was slightly taller than him, his darker eyes looking up at her, and he looked around, ‘I’ve barely been here for five minutes,’ he confessed. ‘I think it’s too soon for me to say if I am enjoying the night or not.’ Even though he wasn’t settled on if he was enjoying the night or not, he gave the woman a gentle smile for any reassurance, as if he was saying that everything was okay for the time being.
Baron noticed that people were moving around the ballroom and entering. Everything was beginning, and he wondered how packed this place was going to get. If it got too packed, he was going to have to make an excuse to get some fresh air or something by the end of the night. At times, his thoughts wouldn’t let him enjoy pleasantries like this — trained to see potential dangers and threats. There were going to be too many possible situations for him to fully rest his shoulders. He wouldn’t rest until he got to bed tonight, more than likely. ‘Is it safe to assume that you have been to these events before?’ Baron wondered. Some part of him assumed that there were others here that have never attended before, but he felt like the woman he was talking to was experienced. He wasn’t assuming she was a goddess, but he felt like it was safer to assume she was. Though he assumed some of the deities probably hadn’t attended these before either.
And he had to glance at his belt because he noticed that her eyes lingered on his sword. Was she uncomfortable that he had a sword on him? He couldn't remember all the rules of this event, but he didn't remember them saying that weapons weren't allowed. Maybe they weren't allowed, and he missed something. 'My sword doesn't bother you, does it?' That was the last thing that he wanted to do... offend a goddess and get punished for it. Why did his superiors have to force him into this position? Plenty of other guys would have died to be able to be here tonight. More thought it was an honor, but Baron felt like it was more of a burden.
‘Maybe something more exciting will happen throughout the night,’ he casually said while scanning the room — he doubted it. He hoped that nothing too exciting happened during this event, because he didn’t want to work or get into something he regretted. This was way above his pay grade in his eyes, and he wished he were back in the barracks or even on a manhunt compared to this. Balls and decorative events were never for him.
His eyes glanced back to the woman who was slightly taller than him, his darker eyes looking up at her, and he looked around, ‘I’ve barely been here for five minutes,’ he confessed. ‘I think it’s too soon for me to say if I am enjoying the night or not.’ Even though he wasn’t settled on if he was enjoying the night or not, he gave the woman a gentle smile for any reassurance, as if he was saying that everything was okay for the time being.
Baron noticed that people were moving around the ballroom and entering. Everything was beginning, and he wondered how packed this place was going to get. If it got too packed, he was going to have to make an excuse to get some fresh air or something by the end of the night. At times, his thoughts wouldn’t let him enjoy pleasantries like this — trained to see potential dangers and threats. There were going to be too many possible situations for him to fully rest his shoulders. He wouldn’t rest until he got to bed tonight, more than likely. ‘Is it safe to assume that you have been to these events before?’ Baron wondered. Some part of him assumed that there were others here that have never attended before, but he felt like the woman he was talking to was experienced. He wasn’t assuming she was a goddess, but he felt like it was safer to assume she was. Though he assumed some of the deities probably hadn’t attended these before either.
And he had to glance at his belt because he noticed that her eyes lingered on his sword. Was she uncomfortable that he had a sword on him? He couldn't remember all the rules of this event, but he didn't remember them saying that weapons weren't allowed. Maybe they weren't allowed, and he missed something. 'My sword doesn't bother you, does it?' That was the last thing that he wanted to do... offend a goddess and get punished for it. Why did his superiors have to force him into this position? Plenty of other guys would have died to be able to be here tonight. More thought it was an honor, but Baron felt like it was more of a burden.
Interaction(s): Morrígan @Lunari
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