Unlucky0013
Lord Zee
DracoLunaris
Frettzo
Vec
Eviledd1984
Kalmar
POOPHEAD189
Gibbou
and Our Boi of Perpetual Boi-ness
Gibbou’s face twisted into a knot as she shuffled another step forward. She had made it a total of three paces from her portal, clutching her stomach as though it was about to fall out. Baggy eyes and hair like an overgrown jungle made up only a small share of the whole wagon wreck that was the moon goddess recovering from her past days of celebration. A hardened mess of unspeakable things trailed from her lips down her chin, covering her moonlight markings, and formed a sickly beige spot on the left leg of her pants. She had only managed to put on a single bat slipper, and her usual overshirt had been switched out with a ragged midnight tank top that somehow managed to smell nicer than its wearer. A burp choked her for a moment and she hesitated in her shuffle.
“... Oh, nuh… Orey, hehlp…” She leaned into a nearby bush and did terrible things to it. She straightened back up and wiped her mouth with a slimey backhand. “Mush find Orey…” She kept shuffling forward.
A figure popped up from behind the bush, limply holding... soiled shears and wearing a disgusted grimace, “Uh...” Illyd Dyll forced a flawed smile, “Hello?”
Gibbou’s tired eyes did their best to widen and she staggered back, though it was hard to tell if it was different from her previous stagger. “Oh, sssshhoot, I’m so… Nuh, my hea-... I’m ssso, so sorry… Here, lemme…” She tried to fish a handkerchief out of her breast pocket, only to realise she was wearing the wrong top.
“Um,” Illyd Dyll wiggled his fingers and the shears disappeared only to be replaced with a wooden cup filled with a beige looking liquid. He repainted his smile and held out the cup, “For ye belly.”
Gibbou narrowed her eyes at the cup. “That’s not more firewater, right?”
“It’s a blend of ginger roots and citrus fruits.” He paused, “But only a little of each, made without fire!” His exclamation was a little loud at the end, making him wince in empathy.
She closed her eyes and nodded slowly, accepting the cup and sipping its contents gingerly. It warmed her mouth and throat with a gentle burn, and the acidity immediately waged war against the sickly sweet aftertaste of carrots in her mouth. She nodded with gratitude at her saviour. “Hey, thanks… That feels so much better.” She took another sip. “Sorry about the, uh… The thingies, shears. I sorta just… Came up.” Blinking away sheepishly, she followed up with: “Say, uh, have we met? I’m Gibbou from the moon. Who’re you?”
Illyd Dyll smiled, “I’m Illyd Dyll, from the...” He looked clouded for a moment, “Well either way, ye should follow up with a nice starch diet -- can I interest ye in a potato?” He held up a potato. Gibbou took it, inspected it and bit into it with a juicy snap. She chewed wearing a hard frown.
“Is it supposed to be this… Hard?”
“Normally I boil it first,” Illyd nodded, “Makes it like a nice pillow.” He paused, “Ye got a pot?”
“Oh.” She eyed the potato with a mixture of embarrassment and betrayal. “Yeah, hang on…” With a snap and a poof, a pot appeared out of thin air and smashed against the stoney floor of the Antiquity. Gibbou covered her ears and mumbled, “ow” over and over again. She got over her agony and snapped some firewood into existence, too. As that, too, clattered against the ground, she snarled. “Damn gravity…” She looked up, turned back and followed the three steps she had taken away from her portal with narrow eyes. “... Hey, Illyd? You mind if we head back to my place? I’m missing my beanbags and the, the, y’know, empty vacuum of space.” She started dragging herself backwards like a zombie.
“I’m a big fan’o beans myself,” Illyd happily accompanied, pulling a harp out of nowhere but then slowly thinking better of it. The two of them subsequently headed through the portal, passing through time and reality until the gentle background noise of other gods’ conversations in the Antiquity disappeared into memory, being replaced by a deafening silence. They were inside a glass dome, the eternal stretch of space filling the view above. Darkness was everywhere, and even divine vision had issues making out the shapes of things, much less their colour. Gibbou snaked her way over to a messy pile of pillows and beanbags and crawled inside like some animal entering its nest. The pot and firewood magically arranged themselves somewhere else. The pot filled with water and a pocket of oxygen appeared between the wood and the pot so fire could be made. A snap lit the wood, and the first light that had graced the dark side of the moon in a long time proceeded to cook the pair some potatoes. “Make yourself at home…” came a drowsy drone from inside the pillow fort.
“Oh, thank ye,” Illyd leaned back into a hammock that had materialized behind him. He slowly fell into its embrace -- swinging gently over the ground and held up by two happy looking apple trees -- sized perfectly for the indoors. He nestled until he was cozy, letting out a soft question, “So how are ye, Gibbou?”
“... Regretful. How about you, Illyd?”
“I’m not always too sure, these days,” Illyd answered honestly, “But what’s life without a little mystery, yeah?” He let his hammock swing, fiddling with something in his fingers.
A blue, dark-blue-haired head popped out from between the pillows, the fire casting black shadows across it that contrasted heavily with its white tattoos and moonwhite eyes. “You… You wanna talk about?” She paused. “I, I mean, I know we just met, but… I, at least, feel like it helps to talk to someone whenever you’re feeling down. It’s helped me now a few times.”
Illyd looked over from his hammock, the earthen brown eyes just peeking over the lip, “Ye know, I couldn’t agree more.” Another pause, “Ye mind if I play a little somethin’ first? Soft and smooth, don’t ye worry. For my nerves.”
There was a shuffle of pillows as the moon goddess shrugged. “Go ahead - soft and smooth’s all good.”
“Stop me if ye heard this one before,” Illyd leaned back in his hammock. There was a long silence ended by the smack of lips and then a long pull from a sorrowful flute. The notes were soft and caring, yet quiet and long. The cry of the flute swirled over the hammock, slowly filling the dome with its passive sob. A fluttering of happy notes began to freckle it, goading a memory from Gibbou.
Two thousand years had filled her head with an eternity of memories, but few came to her easier than this one, and a sting of nostalgia and dissonance clouded her head. “... I, I have… Where did… Where did you heard this?” She slowly pushed herself up to a seated position, pillows and bean bags rolling off the pile and out onto the floor.
The flute stopped and Illyd peaked back over, “In a way, I kinda wrote it. Ye like it?”
Gibbou frowned. “How could you have-... I mean, I like it - I really do, but…” She drew a stiff breath. “I heard it for the first time a long time ago. Did you teach it to him back then?”
“Nah,” Illyd seemed bashful, “Ye were... that is to say... well ye see... ye were the first one to hear it... from me.” He sat up, “Ye know I am sorry for not introducin’ myself earlier.”
She stood up and approached him slowly, all semblance of her earlier ailment seemingly gone. A quivering breath filled her lungs and she asked, “... Who are you, really?”
Illyd Dyll tucked his cheek in and nodded, “I’m Illyd Dyll -- but ye first knew me as one third of a greater being. Ye locked me up behind a gate.” He held out a hand, “But! But! That was all necessary ‘nd I have no bad feelin’s towards ye, in fact if it wasn’t for ye I wouldn’t be around.” He paused, “Listen, ye out of all people in this here crazy world deserve the full story ‘nd when you bumped into me in the bushes, I figured the sooner the better. Now I understan’ if ye don’t want to hear it, but if ye do -- I’m more than happy to explain everythin’.”
Gibbou staggered back and dropped back down in her pillow pile, staring a thousand yards ahead. “... Wow… That makes… What, two gods that claim I’m their reason for being, huh.” She rubbed her face with roughed-up palms.
“Now, hol’ on,” Illyd shook his head, “I existed, you have no responsibility to claim for that. Ye simply... er. Well Gibbou to be frank you sorta cut me up into a lot of pieces, but I arranged for that before ye even met me -- so that’s my own fault, see? Maybe if I start from the beginnin’ this will make more sense...” The god bit his finger in thought.
Gibbou nodded slowly. “... Yeah… Yeah, do that if you, if you would…” With that, she conjured for herself a mug of something hot and shuffled herself around among her pillows until she was comfortable again.
Illyd spun in his hammock so he was facing the goddess, “Right, so... erm. Ye know it’s kinda funny... ye think about this moment for so long that ye never actually get around to figurin’ out how to start it.” He perked up, “Right, okay. So ye know about the lifeblood, yeah? Well there I was inside it as an entity with real blurry lines -- jus’ a personality really, and a love for the flute, but I wasn’t exactly alone.” He concentrated, “I was in part, just a speck in a larger pool that began to form over the Sacred Groves. I decided to make little people to perhaps learn a better way to cope with a growing freckle of misery I had but in reality my form in the lifeblood simply started to reflect all their negative emotions! It was horrible. So ye see, I figured I would jus’ keep moving along as I do and made them as comfortable and happy as possible -- I really loved em, see and selfishly my love for ‘em bounced back and they showered me with all these lovely good emotions.” The god took in a breath, “But ye know I figured this can’t last forever, the anger and sadness and misery was still there attempting to take over. I knew, er figured, that in time this great rage would infact be me, and in the case of the power I wielded, I couldn’t let that rage hold such reign -- so I devised a prophecy, nudged fate just enough to make sure that someone such as yerself would find me... and ye did!”
The god took a breath, “Now I knew that this new stimulation comin’ from you would in the end introduce my lil Thumblings to perhaps negativity that they could not handle and it really broke my heart. To this day I cannot remember if I was in fact a good person doing a bad thing or a bad person trying to do a good thing -- I still can’t tell which one I am.” He furrowed his brow and gulped, “But I did it, I allowed this introduction knowing that it would save myself and hopefully prevent a being of pure anger to reign with the power gifted by the lifeblood... except my nudge against fate wasn’t exactly spot on and well... I trapped myself instead and let loose this being of anger.” He sucked in a breath, “My brother, Joab-Balaam.” He tapped his chest, “A piece of him still beats in my heart, even. But, I managed to nudge fate one more time and made a second prophecy -- even forcing Joab-Balaam to make a girl to try and warn you and little Adrian! It didn’t work out exactly as planned, but ye remember poor Basil?”
Gibbou coughed up some tea. “The prophet, you mean?”
“Yeah!” Illyd Dyll snapped his fingers in confirmation, “She was s’pose to tell ye all that it was gonna be okay and not to feel so bad but I think it got jumbled somewhere... either way she did manage to keep the night elves, your children, away from Joab... just as planned.” Illyd nodded, “I was uh... trapped for about 1536 years after that. Then my lil nudge fell into place -- Did ye ever meet the night elf named Oyticon? Nuh, I don’t think many did -- ‘specially with Joab-Balaam trying to kill him. Either way he fulfilled the prophecy and reopened the gate -- became a Saint to the Thumblings and friends, as well as the very nudge I needed to escape and switch places with Joab. I s’pose most of Joab-Balaam died after that, just like the thousands Joab themself had killed -- save for a freckle that lingers inside of me of course.” Illyd’s face turned sour, “So there ye have it, the full story up until this point -- er barring a short summary of what I’ve been doing up until now from then, which is to say not too much.” He forced a smile and held up a tiny berry, “Houlin berry?”
Gibbou accepted it and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes in pleasure. “Oh, how I’ve missed this flavour…” She swallowed. “So, you were part Joab… Then you split up… And now you’re a… Wait, did you ever say what you do? Also, what’s a saint?”
“Right, so this one isn’t of my design,” Illyd explained with his hands, “But I s’pose my interactions with the Thumblin’s at such an early primordial state of the world had long reachin’ repercussions that I only recently learned about... namely the worship of the mixture of Joab-Balaam, myself, and the lifeblood known as the Golden Light. It was my state when we first met, see?” He twisted his lips in thought, “But now it’s a bit more complicated, but so is the religion it seems. They honor faithful representatives of their religion by lookin’ back at those representatives teachin’s and attempt to...” He paused, “What’s the word? Emulatin’? Well either way, they call these representatives their Saints.” He sat back, “From what I gather, this uh... religion has four major Saints and countless tiny ones.” He held out four fingers, and counted off each, “Bartholomew, the first Thumblin’ I made... known as their elder.” He folded the finger down, “Adrian, ye know him. Basil, ye know her. ‘Nd finally Oyticon.” He nodded with a proud grin, “Lookin’ like my researchin’ is payin’ off, eh?”
“... Adrian…” Gibbou’s stare glowed blankly. It took her a moment to recover. “... Anyway, thanks for answering that question. It sounded stupid in my head to ask… But again, what is it that you do now? I remember the Golden Light being something, something goodness and peace and all that, but… Are you some sort of… Of peace god now, or?”
Illyd Dyll seemed to relax as the topic slowly started to shift away from the past, “Ye see, I made ‘em houllin berries, ‘nd now I make-” He raised his hands and the dome filled with tall shooting sugar canes mixed in a sea of wheat and poppy flowers. A smile formed on his face, “The harvest!” He nodded, “Oh ‘nd this.” He snapped his fingers and the tiniest bolt of lightning zipped into the palm of his other hand.
“Ooo.” Gibbou snapped off a sugar cane and gave it a chew. Its sickly sweet, yet oddly wooden flavour got stuck between her teeth, and she seemed to taste it long after she’d swallowed. “But wait, I though Orey handled plant growth and all that! Or Genesis, maybe.”
“Maybe!” Illyd nodded, “But I do it too!”
“Huh…” An idea seemed to punch Gibbou in the jaw. “Hey! How would you like to become a druidic god?!”
“Sure! I do like having friends,” Illyd smiled warmly, “What’s uh... what’s is it, exactly?”
“Oh! Uh… Hang on, how did I explain it back then, uh… Uhmmmm…” She gave her messy hair a thorough scratch as though she was trying to claw it open. Eventually, she snapped her fingers in realisation. “Right! So it’s this magical system that I invented aeons ago that basically lets mortals use a teeny, tiny bit of your power in exchange for their servitude, prayers, loyalty, whatevs. You technically don’t have to do anything other than bless this artifact I made called Hir, which should be riiiiiiight… No wait…” She conjured forth a globe mapped with Galbar’s lands and seas using moon dust. “Here! No? No, there it disappeared again, uh… Here! Okay, okay, okay, I think it’ll stay there for a while - the people there usually take their time anointing new--... Oh! No, must’ve been accidental. See, it teleports all over the place wherever people pray for help. It’s…” She hung her head. “... It’s not always very convenient.”
“Oh,” Illyd Dyll nodded and studied the map with a polite intensity that the explanation didn’t deserve, “I think I can find it if I do a lil lookin’.” Looking up from the globe he held out a sincere hand to Gibbou, “Listen, I’m glad ye figure I’m a friend enough to help in ye projects. I was a lil worried that ye wouldn’t have been much too happy hearin’ all the nudges and shadows left in the past. So this all means a lot to me, ‘nd I should also be a thankin’ ye for all ye did on my behalf, as well.”
Gibbou blinked. “No, I’m…” She smiled timidly. “... I’m happy the light Adrian and his people loved so much is still around. Here I was still thinking - even a little bit - that I was responsible for the light dying in their grove. Heh… Even though Adrian kept insisting we’d both screwed up.” Her smile broadened. “So no sweat, Illy! Happy to have you here!”
“Ah no,” Illyd held up his palms, “All them years ye thinkin’ and feelin’ such pains in my place is fit for more than simple apology and forgive, I says. This simply won’t do ma’am, I insist I make you at least a pie before you consider us square.”
“I have no idea what that is, but it sounds delicious.”
“Awh miss ye don’t know what ye are missin’!” Illyd hopped out of his hammock. He wiggled his fingers and the wheat began to crumble into flour, the cane began to shake off its sugar, and the poppies sprinkled their seeds. “Hup!” Illyd tossed a sudden smattering of apples into the mix and with a couple zaps of lightning... a sizzling pie landed before Gibbou. She gave it a few sniffs and sighed.
“This smells better than my sister… I think, I mean, I-... I don’t-... I’m just gonna eat.” She cut herself a slice with a knife appearing and disappearing in and out of reality and gave it a bite. “O-hoooo, my siiiss-haaa… What did you put in this?! This is the most amazing thing I’ve-!” She took another bite and hummed triumphantly.
Illyd knitted his brow in concern but hid it behind a smile, “Not ye sister.”
Gibbou stopped chewing and then let out a snickering “pfft!” that made her spit pie crumbs all over the floor. “Oh, horry, ih ‘ust…” She swallowed. “Don’t make jokes like that when I’m mid bite!” She spent another thirty seconds or so calming her giggle.
“At leas’ someone gets it!” Illyd slapped his leg and sat down in a mixture of victory and a huff, “Ye the first person to actually ‘preciate one of my jokes. Usually I get a ‘hmm’ or some weird reference to some inside joke I was not a part of.”
“Oh, that sucks!” She stuffed the last piece of pie into her mouth like a snake swallowing its prey whole. “Yoo’h a’h a-... ‘Ang om.” Swallow. “You’re a funny guy! Then again, some of the other gods are suuuuuuper weird. Like, wow, not even getting -close- to you again!”
Illyd jabbed a finger into his own chest, a hurt look under his smile, “...m...me?”
Gibbou gasped. [colour=lightblue]“Oh no, not you! I didn’t mean it like--!” Her eyes narrow in suspicion. “Waait… Oh, you’re bluffing again! ‘Course I didn’t mean you!” She punched his shoulder in a friendly manner. “No, you’re, you’re really nice. Like, I can’t think of the last time someone made me a pie… Mostly because it’s never happened before, but still. People usually just… Come over and tell me that the stuff I’m doing’s either wrong or could be better. Nobody except my sister and, well, you just sits down to have a peaceful chat like this.”
Illyd beamed at the compliment, “Yeah well... ye know.” He cleared his throat, “Oh wait I think I have a sayin’ for this... er... how’s it go?” He looked at Gibbou for help, as if she would know before he finally snapped, “I... er... can’t remember but it was something along the lines of being like-minded, being sympathetic, loving one another,” he was counting fingers now, “Er... be compassionate and be humble. Either way, I guess what I’m tryin’ to say is there isn’t much use for ol’ judgement when ye plan on reservin’ yer time for carin’.”
“Couldna said it better myself!” she cheered in response. She plopped herself back down in her beanbags and patted her belly. “Oh sister, that was sooooo goooood. Man, the druids’re gonna love you if you bring them -this- kind of stuff!”
Illyd beamed, his smile summoning curling vines throughout the dome. Little reddish purple grapes began to sprout, “To our new beginning then!”