05-08-2024, 06:11 PM
lord, I fashion dark gods too;
He does not like this.
He does not like that she has changed, but more, he does not like that he didn’t know. He is linked to her, a variety of trite charms and symbols over their time together. Even if he does not dip into his connection to her often, this should have called to him, the new thrum of magic.
Why didn’t he know?
He is too used to omnipotence, to knowing everything about those he chooses to set his focus on. Sure, sometimes he doesn’t seek it out – he enjoys a little variety, a little surprise – but he expects it to be there, if he calls. And he can sense it now, the magic a thick stink on her, growing stronger by the second, as if she is a blurred image finally sharpening into clarity.
But why had she ever been so blurred?
(He thinks, abruptly, of Gail. She was not readable – but she had never been.)
He throws himself into her mind then, a rough action, none of his usually bemused drawn-out toying. He tears through her memories, finds how her magic came to be, but the source is banal – Beqanna and her foolish whims – and doesn’t explain why he didn’t know.
“You didn’t tell me,” he says, pulling himself back from her mind. His voice is flat, an undercurrent of something he does not quite put a name to below the words. Never mind that he had not seen her since, never mind that a god was putting the onus on an angel instead of the other way ‘round – it feels good, to punish her for this sin she may or may not have committed.
“It doesn’t suit you,” he says, “you were better, before.”
Truth is, it makes no difference, of course – things may have shifted, she may be less readable, but he knows he can do whatever he wants with or to her, whether or not she is willing. But he is a petty god, and he has been unpleasantly surprised by this shift in her, and so he wants to punish her for it, even if none of it was her doing.
c a r n a g e
@Ryatah