Fantasy Deus Nolens Exitus [Closed]

[Solivagante]

Kalathra took her eyes off of the mortal woman for a mere moment, glancing back at the unsettling mess, and she regretted it as soon as she turned back, because Vicmira was reaching out to touch the stuff. Does she have no sense of self-preservation at all? Nothing that noxious was safe to touch, and here - in Gahnaisto's sanctum, where nothing so foul should have been permitted - it was entirely likely that it was also magicked, in addition to natural rot. And the longer Kalathra breathed the scent in, the more sure she was that the odor was one of decay, albeit different from that of her own domain.

"Do not," she said, and grabbed Vicmira's wrist for good measure, her grip loose enough to barely brush skin but rigid as an iron shackle. "Whatever this is, it is not Lord Gahnaisto's doing. Surely you can deduce that much." No deflections, no patronizing pet names; the smell filled her nose and throat and Kalathra wanted desperately to be away from it.

She had felt fear, in her time as a goddess, which was perhaps unusual, though she'd never asked others about their experiences. Gods were supposed to be above such things, or so they liked mortals to believe, but Kalathra had spent too much time attending functions where Solara presided to deny her own emotions. Still, Solara at least was a known threat. This...

"I know the smell of death," she said, bluntly, meeting Vicmira's eyes. "It should not be here, and neither should we." Whatever had brought death to Gahnaisto's pleasure garden was an unknown, and worse - judging by the steam, these remains were recent. This would be a terrible place and time to be discovered, and there was always the chance that the... cause, whatever it might be, was still in the vicinity. The sooner they left, the safer it would be for both of them.

 

[.quietus]

Don't touch me. Vicmira wanted to voice that thought desperately, though she also knew that a Gahnaisto's candidate wouldn't ever complain about being touched, of all things. Not really, at any rate. Self-respect was a rare commodity among his precious roses, and so she did what she expected one of them would have done in her place.

She chuckled.

Even more infuriatingly, she batted her eyelashes and gave the goddess a long, meaningful look, as if she was trying to decide how to tell her that she knew she was too pretty for her own good.

"Really, Lady Kalathra? Must you be so forceful? Had you told me that holding me was your heart's desire, I might have found a more pleasant way for us to indulge." There was a time and place for such flirtations -- a time and place that decidedly wasn't this, but Vicmira supposed that choosing the worst opportunities was the entire point. It was... better to ruin her chances in advance, really, than it was to risk one of those bastards taking her seriously.

Spending the night in a stranger's bed was just about the last thing Vicmira needed.

Something that Kalathra said proved to be rather interesting, though.

"But oh, how could that be? This is Lord Gahnaisto's domain. Within, he's all-powerful. Doesn't that mean that everything in here is his grand design?" But behind the naive, starry-eyed adoration that Vicmira held in front of her as a shield, there was actually a very different question: 'Is he not in control, then? What is this? Could it hurt him? The other gods?'

The fear in Kalathra's voice suggested so. Considering just how genuine it sounded, it probably should have convinced Vicmira to stay away as well -- but, the thing was, Vicmira had given up on common sense the second she'd chosen to throw her life in pursuit of her mad dreams. Not at all willing to re-discover it now, she tugged at Kalathra's wrist, "Come on, you can't tell me you aren't curious yourself. If this substance is truly dangerous, shouldn't we do something about it? To make sure no other hapless candidates and errant goddesses get in trouble."

 

[Solivagante]

Vicmira's coquettish pretense at cluelessness rankled, and her insistence made Kalathra wonder if, perhaps, this mortal had been deliberately instructed to frustrate and torment her. There were any number of gods who might have made a petty version of such a ploy: those jilted by her work as an Advocate, or perhaps one whose romantic advances she'd rejected. Coerce a human to attach herself, burr-like, to Kalathra's side and stymie her attempts to remain above the fray of the Rite of Spring... but that would not explain the steaming, reeking shadows on the grass.

If this was part of a plot, then it was something worse than petty. Framing her for a crime against another god, perhaps. Removing an Advocate from the board through the courts would be a satisfying irony to some. Though if that were the case, Kalathra had no idea who might have hated her that much - and now was hardly the time to consider such things.

Exhaling a short sigh and breathing back in only shallowly, she resolved for the moment to play along. If there was no scheme here but mortal foolishness, all the better; and if there was something else afoot, perhaps she might avoid a trap by sheer pretense.

"If this is here by Lord Gahnaisto's design, in his pleasure gardens, do you wish to meet the ones for whom it brings pleasure? There are easier ways to offer yourself as a sacrifice." She had already given away too much, in her first reaction, of her shock at finding such a sight here; Vicmira would be a true fool to believe this idea. But at least it let Kalathra feel - right or wrong - that the pretense of normalcy was back in place.

The jab at her curiosity stung, a little, though not for accuracy. The truth was that she had no curiosity for this situation, not even the morbid variety derived from fear. Her survival strategy was to remain uninteresting and removed from the Celestial Court's dramas and schemes. Knowledge was power, but it was also vulnerability. The safest option was to know as little as possible... but that lack of curiosity, itself, almost felt like an absence. Almost felt like a part of herself she'd lost, long ago. She did not want to know - but perhaps once, a different version of herself would have said otherwise.

"It is not my domain, nor my responsibility, to 'do something' about anything found in Lord Gahnaisto's gardens, save for the roses we came here to find. Or have you forgotten about that game already, petal? Mortal minds are so easily turned from purpose." She clucked her tongue, an exaggerated and mocking sound, and resisted the urge to gag as more rank air entered her mouth. "But I suppose, if this is more important to you, we might spare a moment. Would poking it with a stick be sufficient?"