Solivagante
UTC -6
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.
"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.