Frettzo
FetzenZenia
&
Andromeda
The cloth – rags, really – had finally been bleached white by the sun’s warm embrace. Andromeda smiled, untying the strips from the tree branch where she’d hung them. Deft and nimble fingers guided a needle and wove; cloth was joined with plant fiber and even bark, and streaks of pigment from crushed flowers brought vibrant hues out from the lifeless white.
In the river, spring snails clung to slimy rocks. The moon had been especially bright the night before, and so Andromeda had looked up to meet its eye, and she’d found her mind wandering to these creatures. When she’d at last lulled herself into sleep, in a dream she’d been a snail, a heavy shell upon her back and the river for a home instead of this valley filled with black stones. The whole morning, she’d wondered if those little creatures ever yearned to abandon the safety of their burdensome shells, or perhaps even leave the river. On the muddy banks, there were some forgotten shells, the husks of snails that had lived and died their whole lives on those slimy rocks.
The snails weren’t beautiful, but some of their shells were. She gathered up those with the most beautiful pattern, and slowly embroidered them into the clothes she’d been weaving. Of all the yareners among the zenii, only she had ever cared to use snail shells as a decoration. Such innovation risked making an outcast of her. Though they had not known the valley for that long, wisdom and group-thought had taken root amongst the close-knit, bundling zenii. New ideas were risky and open to derision until they were sufficiently popular or provably effective. But it was also how all ideas started - many zenii were simply content with never risking ridicule. They were content to be fed, and idle by the blackstones repeating what they learned.
Today though, even the laziest among the zenii seemed to rise up in arms. A distant shout caught Andromeda’s ears first, then a jubilant exaltation rippled through the people like an awakening roar. The bustle of activity shot through the blackstones to her right, and spread like fire closer and closer. Even a deaf snail would have picked up such ruckus. A quick glance directed further attention upwards, where a golden comet burned through the sky. It whipped and zipped erratically, following no motion ever seen in a falling star before. Eventually it drove closer, cutting straight through a cloud and leaving behind a glittering trail of golden light. The comet threatened to strike the valley itself, but halted in the sky. It was a diminutive silhouette lounging on a canvas of blue and grey, but cursory inspection still led Andromeda to a simple conclusion. The Lady had returned. Cries and shouts reaffirmed this conclusion, as other zenii began to identify the shape in the sky.
The silhouette hovered for a time before descending amidst the blackstones in the middle of the valley, disappearing out of view behind one of the obsidian pillars. Soon however, her comforting voice sounded throughout the valley. "I have been gone for, like, too long. Fear not, I will heal your worries with, like, mirth. First, I wish to see Andromeda. Come, you know, to me. A new destiny awaits."
Deafening whispers rippled through the crowds like waves. Andromeda wasn’t especially talkative or famous by any stretch of the imagination, so only a few knew her name. Still, some of those were at hand, and they pointed at her. Then others traced their fingers and pointed also, and soon it felt like there were more eyes on Andromeda than there were ever stars in the night sky. For a moment she withered, shoulders slumped and head down, as she tried to hide from the crushing embrace of so many eyes… Why did the Lady summon her of all zenii?!
But then she gulped, realizing that such shyness would only embarrass her if the Lady saw, and made her way towards the middle of the valley where she’d seen Zenia descend. The grounds parted for her, murmuring endlessly and calling out all manner of question and accusation; Andromeda heard none of them as she slowly inched ever closer to the heart of the assembly.
The journey soon grew long and arduous despite the relatively short trek it would normally take. The initial wary respect shown to her ended when she came close to the center; where zenii grew less concerned with who this one additional arrival may be and more intrigued with getting a glimpse of the Lady, discussing all the potentials of her words and absence, as well as clamoring for an uninvited personal meeting of their own. There was no two ways about it - Andromeda had to elbow her way forward, battling willful zenii who competed for. She pressed forward, leaning into the back of some tall zene. “Get off!” he snarled, jabbing backward with an elbow that struck her in the gut and left her gasping. She almost fell down to a knee, but to go prone on the ground in a crowd so thick was to risk trampling, or suffocation. She found the strength to remain upright.
She could call attention to herself, with risk that it got lost in the mass of moving zenii, or provoke the same wary silence as around those who knew her name and face by heart. But perhaps an audience with the Lady commanded such a stint of authority? It was not difficult to see the end of her journey at least - all bodies were directed to a point about twenty paces from a nearby blackstone, like a massive circle swallowing up a single point in the world. Well, she could only hope that the Lady had good hearing.
“It’s me,” Andromeda called out, “I’m here!”
It seemed to be to no avail. Her voice vanished in the masses of clamoring zenii, and for just a moment she thought she heard another zena loudly exclaim that she was Andromeda as well. That wasn't true of course, it was highly frowned upon to take the name of another, and of the two zenii who she knew to have tried, neither had managed to keep their changed names. Then something shifted in the crowd. A certain stillness and wails and gasps. The centre stood still, and only those doomed to wrestle at the edges of the gathering remained moving, now confused and eager to know what was happening. The confusion spread outward from the middle like an inevitable wave, and people starting growing both still and uneasy. Something around the Lady had changed.
Something tugged firmly, inquisitively, at the hem of Andromeda’s yarene, threatening to undo a mended part of the weave entirely. A scent filled her nostrils, like warm honeydew and soft morning grass. A mild sensation of elation and adrenaline rocketed up her spine by the sheer proximity. Despite this, the approach had been soundless, evading her best and sharpest sense. "Wow! the excitable voice of the Lady rang through her ears just beside her, having appeared as if out of thin air. Warm and inviting, but echoing with an intensity that only further attempted to deceive the senses into simple joy. "I'm really, like, loving this design. It's so creative! Who, you know, made this for you? It's, like, so good compared to my own."
All Andromeda needed to do was turn her head, and there she was in all her glory. The Lady, wearing the appearance of a zenii but her hair a golden sheen and taller than near any she knew. Her face invited playful comfort, like a puppy coaxing an onlooker to join in its scheme. Her clothes were as she had previously been seen - white and dirty rags that were a simple mockery of the original idea for a yarene.
She blushed, gasped, stammered, “I…I…”
Hold yourself together!
She breathed in. Maybe it was the air, maybe the Lady’s intoxicating aroma, or maybe just the warmth of those eyes – something lent shy Andromeda courage. “I’m a yarener,” she managed to say. But what had the question even been? Had she answered it?
There was a brief pause. Brief in that it can't have been more than a few seconds of the goddess staring blankly and perhaps expectantly at her, but it still managed to feel like the longest moment of her life. It was enough for her to realize not only was she quiet, but everyone around them too. The crowd was watching, transfixed and hanging on every word spoken. Then, as if nothing had ever transpired, this serene spell broke and the Lady expelled a high-pitched squeal. "I love it, I love it, I love it!" she exalted in open praise. "So I had, like, a reason to meet you before, but now. Whew. Can you make, you know, one for me? As a favor? NO! I've got it! Like an, uhm, a quest! Yes." The Lady stood back from Andromeda and met her demure gaze with a piercing smile, both hands settled to rest on Andromeda’s waist. When she spoke, it was with purpose and weight, almost as if she was imitating another, shorter, more serious person that Andromeda had never met. "I ask this of you, Andromeda. Prove to, you know, me, your worth and I shall bestow upon you your destiny. Make me a yarene fit for divinity."
Oh, what a crushing weight! A thousand thoughts raced through the weaver’s mind faster than the wind. How would she find the cloth? Could she just take what she needed from the others, because she was on a quest from the Lady? What if she couldn’t find more pretty shells or enough shells in the river – instead of being avant-garde to the point that the idea bordered taboo, every yarener would soon be running over to the river to snatch up shells and sew them into their clothes now, she realized with a start, since the Lady had approved – and what if she couldn’t make a design pretty enough for the Lady? What did the Lady really even like? It was overwhelming! Andromeda’s eyes were discs the size of the moon.
“Uh, haha, I have an idea! M’lady!” she stammered, her tongue almost tripping as it raced so fast that her mind couldn’t keep up. But what was her idea? Everyone was looking at her expectantly now. Why had she said that?! “We can trade! Uh, like right now! It would be, uh, an honor to wear your dress, and uh, if you like this one so much, you can like, just have it!”
There it was again, that stunned silence rippling through the crowd. Hundreds of expectant eyes watching the exchange with bated breath. Their expressions were coated with disdain and incredulity. How could she have presumed to make such an offering to the goddess? To twist the goddess’ words in such a fashion? She could see it on them. The expectation of a put-down.
It never came. Instead Andromeda felt the weight of the Lady’s divine hands slam down on her shoulders, intense golden eyes staring into her soul. No words were spoken, the full brunt of silent judgement upon her as the divine being simply stared at her, and then released her just as swiftly, taking a step back. Then the Lady grasped her own torn rags, and simply pulled. There never came a rip, nor did it go over her head, but still the garment came loose, held out in simple offering to Andromeda. The Lady's smile burned bright and challenging, and rippling gasps and exaltations in the crowd threatened Andromeda through context to keep her gaze above the shoulder. Others who looked seemed transfixed, some claiming they were blinded or in pain. The goddess was not meant to be viewed in such a way, nor were the shimmering rags meant to be worn. Such was becoming increasingly clear, when it was too late to back out. "You're so kind, I am, like, totally in awe here." the Lady uttered with warm and inviting breath.
Andromeda squeezed her eyes shut, in equal parts to give the Lady the reverence she was owed and to spare her own sight from being scorched away by the brilliance of Zenia’s radiant skin. Eyelids alone were not quite enough of a shield, and it felt as though the warmth and brightness of the sun struck her face, and golden-orange light still bled through to fill the black void of nothingness that shut eyes were wont to see. Even while rendered sightless, Andromeda managed to slip out of her own yaren and gingerly hold it forward in an outstretched. The two traded, and while Zenia giggled, the zena just turned around to face away and changed as quickly as she could. The Lady’s rags could barely be called a yarene, nor were they made to fit Andromeda - the edges were ragged, there were tears in the silky cloth, and the bottom hem was jagged and uneven, and very, very short. Donning it was easy - what came next was tougher. A tense jolt rippled through her skin, electric tension melting into her form and infusing her with an otherworldly sense of power unlike anything a zenii had experienced before. It was frustrating, itching, exciting, and comfortable all at once. The fabric itself had a life of its own, and each little motion was an incitement to live life and enjoy every sensation. It bristled against her skin, sending impulses straight into her system. It was invigorating, like someone had given her a boost of endless energy. The day’s work and the stresses of life seemed more manageable, if a little dull.
”Wow! This looks great!” the Lady erupted behind her, suggesting it was now safe to look. ”Consider your quest, like, finished. This is better than I imagined, actually. It feels really coarse on my skin, I love it.” she continued, and a murmur of acknowledgement ran through the crowd. Andromeda beamed at the praise, and did not even need to open her eyes to know they would appreciate her work more now, if not publicly then certainly in attempts to replicate her work, just as she’d predicted. A word from the source was all it took to alter perceptions. What did that make her, now?
There was barely enough time for Andromeda to gather her senses before the goddess continued speaking, thoroughly convinced that all attention was ever revolving around her. In a way, she was right at this moment. ”Oh, yes. I remember, now. I had, like, a reason for meeting with you. You are, you know, chosen, Andromeda. Not only by me, but by, like, She who Watches from the Moon. It’s your destiny, I guess.”
A collective murmur of confusion rippled through the throngs – Masol had told them all about Father Moon - Father of the North, as Zenia had once spoken of him in her tales to those few in the know - and how the Lady had departed to court him. What was this about a ‘She’? Andromeda’s face betrayed her puzzlement, but she didn’t need to voice any of the questions; a hundred confused shouts came out from the crowd. Almost buried beneath the ruckus, Andromeda only echoed, “Me? Chosen?”
”Yep!” the Lady answered above the din, almost as though the words were implacable in their journey to her ears. She did not seem to have time or interest in answering any questions about the established knowledge of the assembled zenii. There was a tinge of frustration building in the masses - they did not dare challenge the authority of the Lady nor truly command her attention with more than shouting and outstretched arms nipping at her shoulders, but those who had the blood for hot debates and physical dueling were getting ready to riot. It didn’t take much for word to spread, ripple out into the crowd, and then return to incense them further from someone else’s mouth. None of this seemed to stir concern in the Lady, who put both hands to her hips and glanced around. To her, it seemed Andromeda was the only one worthy of conversation for the time being. ”Yes, you are, like, chosen. I have a gif-.. It's a bit, like, loud around here, isn’t it? Maybe we should, you know, go somewhere a little more rela -- hey!” A shoved zene tumbled into the goddess, disrupting her train of thought. The zene, in his misfortune, bounced harmlessly off of the Lady as though she were a blackstone, made of immovable material. Only now did she appear to watch the group with actual care for the way they acted, and it made her previous smile - that warm glow of welcoming joy - fade into a tight-lipped frown.
Instead of exercising any manner of authority over them as one might expect of a deity, she whipped her hands forwards to grab Andromeda by the waist. In the same motion, Andromeda felt the earth leave beneath her feet, and the shifting mass of faces and voices receded below her as surprised gasps and calls for mercy - and not so pleasant things - erupted below. They sailed to the tip of the blackstones, until her eyes could see past the dark monoliths and view the forest and valley from above. The Lady let go of her waist, but Andromeda did not fall. She felt the earth tug her down in hunger, but the air refused to let her back down. It was like swimming in the sky. Zenia did not even look like she was floating, standing in the air as though she was still on the ground. ”So,” the Lady professed with simple calm, tucking a strand of golden hair behind her ear. ”Where were we?
As enthralling as the Lady’s gaze was, this all felt so unnatural and it was impossible for Andromeda to not look down. Down there, on the ground, where they’d been.
But even as she failed to offer any semblance of eye contact, Andromeda reminded her. “The moon, you said that somebody from there – from him, had chosen me. But what am I supposed to do?”
The Lady tapped at her lower lip with a thoughtful finger, as if the deity had met her toughest question yet. Eventually she smiled and reached back to stroke her own hair gently. When her hands came away from her golden strands, they did so holding an item - a smooth and lustrous vessel with handles on either side. Not unlike a pot, if such a delicate and elegant thing was crafted by the gods and for inscrutable purpose. Perhaps it would see better use holding water than herbs. The Lady extended this divine object towards Andromeda, never taking her eyes off of the zena in question. The shouts and reverent calls from below didn't even seem to register.
"A gift from the Watcher," she began to explain, and Andromeda’s eyes narrowed in confusion. "A bargain has been, like, struck. You have been, you know, chosen. In return for you and hundreds of your chosen kin, like, walking this path, the zenii shall forever be safe from her, uhm, anger. Yeah. You'll, like, lead them in communion with her, I guess. You know?"
Those narrowed eyes had opened wide at the mention of anger.
The Lady was still holding out that strange object that had previously been hiding somewhere in those golden curls of hair. After what felt like a few moments too long, Andromeda finally realized that she was supposed to take it, and so she gingerly touched it. Its silky polish took her by surprise; it was so impossibly smooth that her grip might have failed had she tried to take it by the base, but fortunately it had two handles. It was so glossy that it made the softest skin feel like the bark of a tree, or soft currents of the river like coarse sand. Nothing compared.
But what did it do?
It seemed like a vessel that could hold things, but was that it? Finally, Andromeda asked, “So, the moon is called the Watcher? I, no, a bunch of us have to commune with the Watcher? And he – wait, she gets like, angry?”
Above the din of calling zenii from below, Andromeda detected a brief lull in the Lady’s smile and unflappable demeanor - a sigh, innocent but telling. Before she could register motion properly the Lady’s hand settled on her shoulder, the intense warmth of her arm pressed over her back, and the golden tresses fell to impede vision on her right side. The Lady was hugging and leaning on her with one arm, having moved faster than mundane beings were equipped to handle. "Look, Andie," she began with a soft and calm tone of voice, exactly as one would expect when hearing bad news. "I'm not going to, like, lie to you, you know? That'd be, like, a major, uhm, breach of trust between us and, like, kind of a bummer move from me. It's true that she, uhm, like, gets a little moody, I think. She can be a little hard to talk to, and, like, a bit of a perfectionist I think. But she's doing, like, important work, watching like, all that happens and will happen and making sure it, you know, doesn't get bugs stuck in its hair." the Lady explained with almost conspiratorial and sedate tone. Her free hand flitted in front of Andromeda’s face to accentuate her wild claims, as if drawing up a dreamscape for viewing. It was of course, just a hand moving around. "She and I, like, struck a deal. A future in which you are not only her, you know, chosen, but a guarantee that all your kin shall be safe. Something like that. You are, like, destined for greatness. You'll pour water all over with your new tool, and commune with deities, and, like, lead a team of crack zenii operatives, maybe? It'll be great! And--"
The Lady was cut short as she glanced skywards, her attention briefly stolen by something imperceptible to zenii senses. "Whew. I am being, like, called away to something I don't think I can ignore. I guess the Watcher will, you know, fill you in on the rest!" she continued after a while, cutting her explanation woefully short. Her arm lifted away from Andromeda, relinquishing her from the embrace. Andromeda felt air take in her torn clothes as she slowly began to descend away from the goddess. There was still time, but the Lady seemed to think it was all over, and Andromeda didn’t dare to argue. Instead, her mind just spun as she slowly drifted back to the ground. It wasn’t until her feet almost would have brushed the head of the zene directly below her that the throng retreated – just a little bit – to give her room to land, and then they pressed back in and all eyes were on her.
No, they weren’t even looking at her; they had eyes only for that bone-white ewer in her hands! She clutched its handles just a bit more tightly, just instinctively knowing that it would be bad if anybody took it from her. The tatters of the Lady’s dress (she still couldn’t think of it as her own) seemed to wrap protectively over the ewer’s lips as if to obscure and protect it from the hungering eyes of the crowd, but it wasn’t enough. Only her words would keep them away!
“What’s that?” “Can I feel it?” “The Lady gave you a gift!”
The multitudes of voices all rang out in an indiscernible discord, until at last the pressure became too much and timid Andromeda finally shouted to make them stop,
“It’s from the Watcher! A goddess that lives on the moon! I was chosen to hold it for her! I have to, uh…” she began, strongly at first, “fill it with water, or something! And pour it on things!”
That simple explanation held back the tide - but only for a moment. Her words instilled deep confusion, excitement and jealousy in her kin, and soon the questions came louder and faster than before. It was an endless cacophony of clamoring, made all the worse when the Lady lifted up into the sky to once more disappear entirely. Those initial questions soon became debates and arguments, as the word spread about the mass of zenii and each of them did their best to interpret her words in whatever way they could. Someone tried to grab the ewer and rip it from her, but its smoothness played to her advantage as her kin failed to gain any purchase on the eldritch gift. It would be a long and arduous effort to navigate out of such a crowd, many eager to learn all that had been said in the sky.
The river was no good anymore. Now, three days after the Lady's sudden return and subsequent departure, Andromeda found each stretch of the riverbank populated by all manner of zenii scrounging for snails, pretty stones, and various baubles coming down the river. Trading these luxury items for favors or food had rapidly become a favorite pastime of those who refused to learn the crafts in favor of easier opportunities. As a result, the river was full of people fighting for their own spot. The only places Andromeda could find that weren't far out of the way had already been picked clean by the swarm. Everyone wanted to adorn their tools and yarenes with this new, divine fashion, though few dared approach Andromeda directly other than to ask an endless barrage of questions.
She wasn't alone, of course. The recent meeting with the Lady had skyrocketed her to new popularity and with that acclaim came a gaggle of extremely social and festive zenii that hung on her every word. From them she'd learned that Masol, the more or less appointed ruler of the valley was losing supporters as the news of the Lady’s words spread farther and was debated in full. The revelation created splinter groups in the previously monolithic ruler's camp, with some allegedly outright denouncing the zene and declaring themselves as independent once more. As one of the few who had ever directly spoken to the Lady, Andromeda attracted these malcontents like a warm blackstone on a cold evening, even if most of them were content to socialize on the periphery and leave her alone. Still, there was now a minor throng of people that regarded her word as law, so long as they liked what she said. They offered company, heat and food without any expectation beyond her popularity grazing them. Was this what Masol felt like? They warded off most newcomers asking about the ewer or the Lady, if they saw her being bothered.
Stood there on the riverbank close to the blackstone she stayed by, surveying her old hunting ground, Andromeda heard the soft crush of grass behind her - the rustle of fabric and the click of shells and stones touching during movement. Someone was coming up real close behind her. "Well, well, we finally found you," a zena's voice declared from behind her. "You're easy to lose in a crowd."
Andromeda hadn’t recognized the voice, so she cast a glance over her shoulder to see just who this was that had slipped past her usual flock of adulators. Behind her stood two zenii, a zena and zene wearing longer cut yarenes than the regular ones - she'd heard that was becoming popular, but it meant someone giving up that material. The zena picked at her teeth with a sharp piece of bark, meeting Andromeda’s gaze in the short moment she looked over her shoulder. The zene, was most remarkable in his face full of bruises and nervous expression.
“But I can’t lose the crowd,” she quipped back, eyes returning to her ewer. It was full, and yet she’d never tarnished it by dipping it into the muck of the river… she felt that it was too white for that, too clean.
"That's a good one," the zena murmured with a casual tone. The shuffle of grass and feet proceeded, and soon enough a hand slapped down on Andromeda’s shoulder, clasping her skin with a friendly but controlling grab. The zena shoved her form into her back, leaning her chin over Andromeda’s shoulder. "I bet you're real popular, now. Must be nice. We're not here to get in on that - but I'm hoping we can help each other. You know?"
"Masol wants to see you." The zene erupted as if to clarify, as nervous in voice as he was in facial expression. "To talk, and, and such."
His interruption was enough for the zena to break her face away from bothering Andromeda, though she didn't physically retreat. "Really, Gaher? You see we're having a talk over here. Why do you have to spoil the meal?" There was only shamed silence in return.
Andromeda’s lip stiffened at the mention of Masol, and she finally turned around to face these two of Masol’s lackeys. “If he wants to talk, I don’t see why he didn’t come here himself. Did he lie about all those stories? The ones about, you know, the moon courting the Lady?”
The zena, who remained uncomfortably close after Andromeda turned to face the two of them, offered a wide smile that looked more condescending than friendly. She extended her hand a short distance to brush a lock of hair out of Andromeda’s face, taking a step up as if she’d decided to be her warmth for the day. “Stories are stories, right? Why don't we focus on what's in front of us? Let's not get off on the wrong foot here, arguing about who said what. If you tag along, you can get your answers right from the source. You might find there is much reason in being our friend, you know?” she muttered quietly, her tone conspiratorial and inviting. Behind her, the one called Gaher shifted restlessly on his feet. The zena's gaze dropped down to the ewer in Andromeda’s care, and spindly fingers stretched out once more to caress the divine gift without permission. "Ohh, is this it? The Lady's basket? It's beautiful."
The ewer’s depths housed a small puddle of some surreal fluid that glowed, that sang, that was clearer than water. It had condensed out of nothingness and dripped down into the jug throughout the night, little beads and droplets rolling down into the bottom like beads of sweat. Were it not so impossibly smooth, some might have clung closer to the top, and the zena’s fingers near the ewer’s lips might have touched it.
Nobody had touched the liquid as it had accumulated down there bit by bit; in truth, Andromeda was a bit afraid to, for not even she knew what pouring this ‘water’ on something might do. But in that moment, a thought inexplicably pushed itself into the forefront of her mind: the fluid could kill. She looked at the smug grin on that sly zena, and for a moment saw only a grimacing skull in place of a face; beads of the fluid ran down the skull and to the neck, cutting through flesh as if it were as ephemeral as fog.
The grisly image made Andromeda recoil with a look of palpable horror in her eyes, but of course the zena wouldn’t understand. She wanted to push away those brushing fingers, to bring it away from the ewer, but then she saw a flash of the future where that zena tugged back and then the jar splashed its contents onto her face and then that face became a grinning skull locked into mirthful laughter as it fell to the ground–
“The Watcher made it, and the Lady made it sound like she’s, uh, a very dangerous goddess. Maybe worse than that Beast Queen, even. So you shouldn’t touch this thing,” she warned. She let a long moment pass, half to let that set in and half to think for herself. “Actually, I think it’s so dangerous that nobody else should, and that I should stay right here in the river and keep it safe. The crowds are too thick by Masol’s blackstone and people would try to grab it. Tell Masol that he has to come over here if he wants to talk.”
A bitter smile spread over the zena's features, poisoning any suggestion of goodwill she had previously tried to imply. Her hands roamed the eldritch artifact, fingertips searching for purchase and her mind for understanding. Andromeda could see her undergo the mental struggle of whether or not to try and take it from her. Her fingers slid to the handles, brushing Andromeda’s own as they clutched the vessel. "Listen, little zena," she began with a venomous, guarded tone. "We tried to be n--"
"Is everything okay here, Blessed Andromeda?" A firm voice cut in, disrupting whatever veiled threat the zena was building towards. To her right side, the well-built Yrate had left his scavenging spot in the river to muscle in on the conversation. He had been a little too eager to please these last few days, working hard to impress her, showering her with compliments, and offering warmth. Like most of the others, he only saw her now that she was a name to know. But here he stood, ready to protect. And he brought a few interested zenii who seemed equally perturbed by the duo's continued presence. "Are these two bothering you?
"...Jem," the quiet zene called Gaher urged with a rise in desperation. "Maybe--"
"No problem here, friend," the zena erupted glancing sideways as Andromeda felt the searching hands escape from any immediate attempt to further grip the ewer. "Just talking between old friends."
“You tried being nice?” the yarener echoed back, Andromeda sparing a moment to give Yrate a grateful glance. “Old friend?” she went on, venom dripping from her once demure words.
The glow from within the white ewer suddenly became brighter, and whimsical thought became overwhelming compulsion. Andromeda lifted the ewer high above her head and overturned it above that zena, and a shower of moonlight cascaded down onto the head and face of ‘Jem’. It didn’t melt her face, though. Instead the watery substance rippled in unnatural ways as it clung to her flesh, forming a hand that solidified around her throat in an icy death grip. She wheezed, fell to the ground, and choked. Her eyes were red and bulging like berries from the wood. When her struggling began to wane, the hand slid up her chin, pried open her mouth, and crawled inside. There was a horrific bloodcurdling shriek, and then a shard of crystallized fluid burst out from Jem’s left eye. Another erupted from her right, striking her blind in a gruesome mess. A third bored through her forehead, right about the bridge of her nose, and yet she was still down there writhing and shrieking.
Then Andromeda blinked, and that nasty zena was still there. Still standing, still simmering, still only backing away thanks to Yrate. It had all been a reverie, but it felt somehow realer than some mere dream.
She gazed down into the ewer and shrieked, “What do you want me to do?!”
Her words echoed back from within the hollow vessel, oddly distorted, and she Saw a ghostly image of the jug emptied… no, of the jug being overturned, of that water pouring freely. But not on another person!
As if stricken by madness, the yarener-turned-prodigy suddenly flailed her arms wildly. Liquid splashed out from the ewer, and where it fell upon an empty patch of the ground green grass was incinerated and reshaped into scintillating diamonds within the blink of an eye. She gasped, prodding one of these strange jewels with her toe. When turned the other way the prismatic gem was suddenly aglow with a different color, but it was also wickedly sharp and she felt its serrated edge just barely cut into her skin. Jem had skipped backwards in fright, stunned by the display and speechless for once.
“I’m sure that the Watcher wanted me to dump this on your head and kill you,” she warned the nasty zena, clutching at the calming smoothness of her robe. Even frayed, the threads were soft and smooth, but where that smooth ewer was cold these were warm and reminded her of the jubilant and dauntless Lady. “The Watcher showed me what I could have done, but… I, I didn’t want…”
The words weren’t coming to Andromeda, but anger overcame her stammering and she finally burst out to the shocked zena, “Go! You aren’t safe here, and you’ve angered a goddess.”
Jem came out of her initial shock with a furious scowl, working up her arm as her gaze shifted from the crystalline jewels to Andromeda. Had she even heard her, or was she contained in her own prideful fury? Fortunately, her companion, overcome with some measure of panic and respect, had finally seen enough, and moved forwards to grip her with both arms. Yrate and his friends did not seem particularly eager to move forwards after the display of divine power, but remained cautiously ready to cut in if their movements were any indication. Gaher murmured something into Jem’s ear, and pulled her away from any foolish and careless followup. Reluctantly, the two zenii receded from the scene, skittering away as quickly and without fanfare as they had arrived. Jem never stopped staring at Andromeda. A few nearby zenii were staring as well, the commotion enough to garner more interest from the river. No doubt this new wrathful deity would soon be the talk of many blackstones.
