[God Quest] hell was the journey but it brought me heaven

There is love inside this madness
We are walking on the moon

Soh had been putting this off not because she didn’t want to finish her quest, but because she’d been feeling more and more ill for a few weeks now, and she’d kept telling herself she’d turn in the quest when she felt better. It had started with the exhaustion, which she’d chalked up to all the travel she’d been doing, even though it had never bothered her before. Next was her appetite, which had always been healthy up until now. She just… hadn’t been hungry lately, which was strange. Then came the nausea, a daily battle of willpower to keep from vomiting up every meal she ate. And now, most recently, she’d been blessed with headaches that often lasted from sunup till sundown, their painful ache sometimes debilitating. 

If she had her suspicions, she did her best to ignore them. It was probably just stress, after everything with Colt. Instead, she waited for a day where she felt reasonably good before visiting the shrine.

She trekked through the graveyard with a basket on her arm, containing an offering and the items that she'd been told to gather. When she arrived at the shrine, she was surprised by its quiet beauty. It was covered with flowers and other offerings, all of which were as fresh as the day they'd been laid on the altar. Soh set her basket down, delving into the depths to pull out a gilded compass. Last time, she'd brought star maps, and this time, she thought that something to signify finding her way felt appropriate. The added gold was because she knew Safrin liked lavish things. It didn't feel like much, but it was something, and Soh hoped that the thought put into the gift would be enough to avoid Safrin's wrath.

Beside the compass, she settled the two sheets of parchment that wouldn't wrinkle or tear and a jar of kraken ink that she'd gathered from Remi. She also placed the journal in which she'd written under the stars beside it all before stepping back and glancing up. It was twilight, and the stars were beginning to wink into existence above her.

Gazing at them, Soh took a deep breath. "Safrin, I've returned," she said softly into the still air of the shrine. "I did as you asked. I brought parchment, and ink, and I wrote something meaningful beneath the stars. I also learned about the drawbacks of the written word. I think I may have lost a friendship because of it." Frowning slightly as she thought of Kaisel, she shook her head. "But it was a valuable lesson, regardless." Now she would know to be careful what she said in a letter, and more importantly, how she said it.

Falling silent, Soh waited hopefully for the goddess to appear.

---

Soh is turning in the quest received here: like we’re made of starlight.

[*]take the moment and taste it | Have someone from the Gilded Market create two pieces of parchment that won't wrinkle/be torn
[*]used to live with ghosts | Collect ink from a Tudalopus or Kraken, OR buy ink made from Gore Crow feathers
[*]Kaisel & wrapped all my past mistakes in barbed wire | Communicate something important only by writing and experience the ramifications of it (i.e., learn the drawbacks of only communicating via writing)
[*]deep blue, but you painted me golden | Spend a thread journaling/writing something meaningful beneath the stars

Though I don't believe in magic
I believe in me and you

Sohalia

every bait and switch was a work of art

Twilight settles gently across the barrows, the mist curling low between the ancient mounds as though the earth itself breathes in slow, measured sighs. The first stars pierce through the dimming sky above, faint at first, then gathering strength; quiet witnesses to the offering laid so carefully upon the altar.

Then the air stirs. It is not dramatic, not sudden, but certain; the way still water knows when something has entered it. The flowers upon the shrine do not stir, yet their colours seem to deepen, their edges catching light that has no clear source. The faint gleam of gold upon Sohalia’s compass brightens, as though remembering something older than the world beneath it. Safrin emerges not from above, nor from below, but from the light itself; her form unfolding from the soft glow that gathers between stars and shrine alike, until she stands before Sohalia as though she has always occupied that space.

Her gaze lowers first to the offerings. There is no hurry in the way she takes them in—the compass, the ink, the parchment, the journal—all considered with a quiet, deliberate attention. The faint curve of her lips speaks of approval, subtle but unmistakable, and when her eyes lift to Sohalia, that warmth remains. "It is nice to see you again so soon, Sohalia." The words fall softly, but they carry weight nonetheless, settling into the space between them with quiet finality. Safrin’s hand extends then, elegant fingers reaching not for the compass or the journal, but for the parchment and the jar of kraken ink.

Without ceremony, she tilts the bottle, allowing the ink to spill in a dark, gleaming cascade across the pale surface of the pages, pooling and spreading until the parchment is swallowed entirely in black. For a heartbeat, it seems ruined, but then the darkness begins to shift, to thin, to draw inward as though the pages themselves are drinking it in. When the black recedes, the parchment remains, but subtly changed. Creamy once more, yes, but now touched with something finer: faint flecks of starlight scattered across its surface, subtle and luminous, as though the night sky has been pressed into its fibres.

"Now," she murmurs, her tone light with quiet satisfaction, "let us make certain they work, mm?" She separates the pages with a gentle motion, retaining one for herself while the other remains before Sohalia upon the altar. Taking up no visible instrument, she writes all the same—, her fingers brushing lightly over the surface, and where they pass, words appear as though coaxed into existence rather than inscribed.

When she finishes, she glances toward Sohalia, a small, knowing tilt to her head. On Sohalia’s page, the message has already formed: I see congratulations are in order. You will make a wonderful mother.

---

Sohalia has completed her quest and received:

Two-way parchment | This parchment will replicate whatever is written upon it to its partner-parchment, regardless of distance.

you're the one prize i'd cheat to win

There is love inside this madness
We are walking on the moon

When Safrin appeared, everything upon the altar seemed to deepen: colors brightening, gold gleaming, and then she was there, an approving smile on her lips as she took in the items laid out so carefully for her perusal. Soh watched it all, lips parting with awe, her silver gaze flickering from flowers to compass to Safrin and back again, overwhelmed by the sheer beauty that followed the starry goddess into existence.

Mouth dry, Sohalia nonetheless managed a shy smile. "It's nice to see you, too." And it was. For all her uncertainty around Safrin, she was finding that her own opinion of the goddess was leaning far more positive than it had in times past, swayed as easily as she had been once upon a time by the opinions of others.

She watched as Safrin reached for the parchment and ink, watched as the paper became blackened and ruined, watched as the ink seemed to absorb within the parchment itself, leaving behind only a sheer, star-flecked glimmer upon the pages. Safrin separated the pages, claiming one and leaving the other for Soh to pick up, inspecting it subtly as she waited for whatever message Safrin chose to write to come through. "Thank you, Safrin -" she was in the middle of saying, about to explain what a relief this was going to be for Zavien, how grateful they both were for the assistance.

But then her gaze caught on the word mother.

She read the message once; then again, her eyes skimming the parchment with more focus, as though she might have misunderstood the first time. Her lips parted as a soft oh fell into the silence that suddenly felt deafening, myriad emotions overwhelming her. Surprise, fear, anxiety, and perhaps even a little burst of joy - all became a cacophony in her mind, until she looked up at Safrin with a stunned expression. "I'm pregnant?" she whispered, awed and terrified in equal measure, the hand not clutching the parchment instinctively coming to brush her fingertips protectively against her abdomen.

Though I don't believe in magic
I believe in me and you

Sohalia

every bait and switch was a work of art

Safrin stands as she always does—unhurried, composed—while the weight of the words settles into Sohalia, while the silence stretches and fills with all that rushes unspoken through the Luminary’s mind. There is no impatience in her stillness, no intrusion upon the swell of feeling that flickers so visibly across Sohalia’s face; only quiet observation, the kind that sees without pressing, that allows without softening. The starlight woven faintly through the parchment catches as Sohalia’s hand trembles, and though Safrin does not look at it again, there is the distinct sense that she does not need to.

When Sohalia’s gaze lifts—wide, searching, caught somewhere between wonder and fear—she finds the goddess already watching her. Smiling; a knowing curve of her lips that carries neither surprise nor concern, only a quiet certainty that settles as gently as dusk itself. Safrin inclines her head, the motion small, graceful, as though acknowledging something that has long since been written. "Is it really so surprising?" Her voice is soft, threaded with the faintest note of amusement, though never unkind. One brow lifts just slightly, her expression inviting without pressing, as though the answer matters less than the understanding that will follow

you're the one prize i'd cheat to win

There is love inside this madness
We are walking on the moon

Safrin watched her patiently as Sohalia came to grips with the information she'd been given. Emotions roiled through her, stiffening her frame as she tried to regain control of herself. Tears prickled behind her eyes - tears of tentative joy, tears of cold fear - as she took a few deep breaths.

Was it surprising? Perhaps not; after all, pregnancy was a potential side effect of having sex, and given that she and Zavien had done so several times, this was a possibility, despite Soh's best efforts at contraception. And when she thought back over the past several weeks, over symptoms that had seemed like stress at the time, she felt all the more a fool for not thinking that this could be the cause. Contrite and shy, Soh shook her head. "I suppose not," she murmured. "But it's still unexpected." And Soh had never really been sure how she felt about surprises. Especially not ones of this magnitude.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Soh squared her shoulders, tucking the parchment away in her pockets. "Thank you, Safrin," she said, her words thick with emotion. "For the parchment, and for the news." Pausing, she fidgeted with the ring on her right hand, twisting it round and round on her finger. "I hope you don't think me rude, but... I should go. I need to tell Zavien."

Though I don't believe in magic
I believe in me and you

Sohalia

every bait and switch was a work of art

Safrin does not look away as the tide of feeling moves through Sohalia, as uncertainty tangles with dawning understanding and something softer beneath it all begins, however quietly, to take root. If the goddess notices the tremor in her voice, the way her breath stutters and steadies again, she gives no sign of judgement; only that same patient attention, as though every flicker of thought has already brushed against her awareness and found no resistance there.

At the mention of it being unexpected, Safrin’s smile shifts—just slightly—into something more wry, more knowing, her shoulder lifting in a delicate, almost careless shrug that suggests the word itself holds very little weight in the grander shape of things.

When Sohalia offers her thanks, Safrin inclines her head in quiet acknowledgement, accepting the gratitude as though it is no more than its due, neither diminished nor inflated by the emotion behind it. "Of course not." The reassurance comes easily, without hesitation or embellishment, her gaze steady and warm as Sohalia speaks of leaving. There is no attempt to hold her there, no lingering demand for reverence or delay; if anything, the faint curve of her lips deepens, as though the next step Sohalia must take is one Safrin has already accounted for.

A flicker of something brighter touches her expression then—playful, fleeting—as she offers the Luminary a small, deliberate wink, and then she is gone. Not vanished in a burst or a flare, but unwoven, the light that formed her thinning and softening until it returns to the quiet glow of the shrine, leaving behind only the faint shimmer of starlight clinging to the parchment.

~FIN

you're the one prize i'd cheat to win