(Untitled)

[discordare]

It's by the whim of a goddess that you awaken in a foreign place tonight. Perhaps you are a spirit or a deity, and you've come of your accord. Or perhaps you are a mortal, and it is only by her will that you've been invited. Spirited away to this magical place. Your gracious immortal host has provided you with two things: a mask-- ornate, jeweled,

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[nothingfalse]

[Wherever Eris is, Elpis usually doesn't follow, but today, for some reason, she decided to do just that. She's wearing her own mask and she's eyeing that apple with a bit of resignation. Oh, Eris]

[discordare]

[ Eris has a tendency to appear where she is least wanted. The goddess is covered by a mask with a mocking smile, but to any immortal, her presence is unmistakable and malicious. ]

You could have it, you know. [ Her voice is almost coaxing. ]

[nothingfalse]

[ Elpis looks over and smiles just a little ]

I don't like to cause trouble, you know that. I already have Pithos, I don't need that much more.

[discordare]

[ The goddess makes a soft sound of disdain from behind her mask before reaching back to loosen the tie, drawing it carefully from her face. Her expression is subtly malicious-- something about a shade of the mouth or the shape of her eyes. ]

Oh? You don't, do you? But I find hope to be such a troublesome thing.

[ An unfriendly smile. ]

[itendsinfire]

[ He is no spirit and he is no God. The Firebrand, however, is radiating with a dark, hungry pulse tonight, the edges of its blade flaring dark crimson beneath the black satin Seth Arsenal has wrapped it with. His mask, too, seems to evoke a soft light, casting shadows across his eyes where there should rightfully be none.

He does not look please to be here; but, then again, what mortal with a weapon capable of slaying Gods would? ]

...-crowds in on.-

[aut_augur]

[That thing is frightening. He can feel it pulling at him, eating at him. Jast's eyes continue to be drawn towards him, bright blue things that read the future in the flights of birds. Fire. Destruction. As if the lair of Discord were not painful enough. That thing. That thing plucks at him, makes the edges of his aether curl back, dry, withering.

Little earth warden separated from his patronesses, he stands frightened in the presence of the ruin bringer.]

/opens arms

[itendsinfire]

[ Eventually, he notices that he's being watched. And the sight of the man -- woman? thing? who could tell, in this place -- watching him seemingly cowering away from Seth makes him equal parts proud and suspicious. He had done nothing to offend those crowded around him. Nothing at all. ]

[aut_augur]

[Jast tenses when he's noticed, like a bird ready to spring into flight, though he has no wings, though he's trapped in Discord's realm until such time as she deems his release to be appropriate. He does nothing, at first. Is afraid of what a burst of aether could mean for him. Fallen's powers are so passive compared to the is, but it stirs fear in him just to think on it. An instinctual response to that which can kill him.

Yet, he is a dignitary. Priest, augur, warden. He knows how to behave before things greater than himself. He approaches quietly huddled protectively inside the ceremonial robes Eris had dressed him in. He is a thin boy, if tall. Blue eyes shine very bright.

None of his prayers are appropriate. All of them are songs of safety, peace, long life, happy futures. He simply bows his head instead, heart quavering in his chest.]

[imitatively]

[ Nicodemus hovers at the edge of the festivities, his hood drawn up close to his face, hiding the entire top half of his head. He is not -- he isn't agitated or annoyed, per se; but, the Warlock knows that the longer he stays the larger the chance something will happen to set him off.

He'd never been one to take kindly to gods. ]

[apportions]

[ The Apportioneris neither agitated nor annoyed herself, though few things will agitate one who sees all destinies. She has become somewhat accepting in her personality-- an eternity of measuring out lives will do that-- and she's seems unbothered by her circumstances. She knows Strife, knew the moment she came into being, and knows her mischeif.

A mask covers her face, but can you sense when a Fate is in your presence, Warlock? ]

Are you displeased, friend?

[imitatively]

[ Nicodemus offers the woman a small smile as he casts a momentary glance at the apple to the extreme left of them. ]

--Not really, no.

[ And it's a lie, to be sure, but he's got worse things to worry about right now. Like if this woman was a God, Demon, or Elder Thing come for his soul. ]

Just out of my element.

[apportions]

Oh? [ She seems neither entirely disinterested or interested, tilting her head slightly at him before following his gaze to the golden apple. ] That does happen when one is whisked away against one's will, doesn't it?

[ It's curious really, but she doesn't think he knows who she is. Which is alright-- not everyone recognizes her. She and her three sisters don't socialize terribly much. ]

You're magic, aren't you? I can feel it.