empires fall when we move the unmovable, so tell me all of my secrets, tell me all of my lies,
Loki, like any cat dragon, will only stay still for as long as she likes. The scritches have been nice, but as the man has covered every itchy spot, she’s feeling a bit restless again. A bit of boredom flashes down their bond before she makes her way to Aamu’s other side and peers up at the sky. With the imperious presumption of an apex predator, her tail lashes back and forth to dissuade his hands from continuing on and launches herself into the sky, pumping her wings to rise quickly above them.
Wessex watches her with a vague smile before returning to the conversation. Imprisoned. Right.
“Yeah. In the Spire, a big, black obsidian tower. Right over one of her own portals. The Old Gods brought a barrier down around the Grounds and left their heralds inside to take care of our needs… but you know how the heralds are. Life got worse. They barely helped, it… I don’t know, maybe they couldn’t.” She shrugs, not feeling particularly kind towards the heralds, like ever. “Or maybe they were in denial. Or wanted to get out too. Whatever the case, they couldn’t stop her from pulling stronger people from other worlds into Caido. They came in droves, almost all at once. They somehow found favor with the heralds where we couldn’t, somehow found the key to gaining magic and shifts and when we figured out that defeating the creature that guarded the Spire and releasing the Core and the Voice would bring down the barrier, it was a no brainer. Once they killed the Demon, I led a group of Ascended to open the Spire, and then others went inside and defeated the traps. It was a done deal after that.”
They trade stories, and Wessex fills some generalities in; she tries not to press too much, but she wants to shake Aamu, wants him to open his brain to her, or press a button and find out what he’s seen. Oh, she knows that three hundred years can corrode something, she knows that memory is faulty and yet that doesn’t quell that small rise of frustration.
“We’ve always had the term New Gods, but it’s only ever been the Voice. The Core, perhaps, but it seemed to be a thing, not a person. Were there other demigods? What kind of upgrades did you have?” She catches herself before the next question slips out, the strategist in her hungry to know more, to see how far they’ve come and whether or not they are, better and a greater threat to the Order.
Wessex watches her with a vague smile before returning to the conversation. Imprisoned. Right.
“Yeah. In the Spire, a big, black obsidian tower. Right over one of her own portals. The Old Gods brought a barrier down around the Grounds and left their heralds inside to take care of our needs… but you know how the heralds are. Life got worse. They barely helped, it… I don’t know, maybe they couldn’t.” She shrugs, not feeling particularly kind towards the heralds, like ever. “Or maybe they were in denial. Or wanted to get out too. Whatever the case, they couldn’t stop her from pulling stronger people from other worlds into Caido. They came in droves, almost all at once. They somehow found favor with the heralds where we couldn’t, somehow found the key to gaining magic and shifts and when we figured out that defeating the creature that guarded the Spire and releasing the Core and the Voice would bring down the barrier, it was a no brainer. Once they killed the Demon, I led a group of Ascended to open the Spire, and then others went inside and defeated the traps. It was a done deal after that.”
They trade stories, and Wessex fills some generalities in; she tries not to press too much, but she wants to shake Aamu, wants him to open his brain to her, or press a button and find out what he’s seen. Oh, she knows that three hundred years can corrode something, she knows that memory is faulty and yet that doesn’t quell that small rise of frustration.
“We’ve always had the term New Gods, but it’s only ever been the Voice. The Core, perhaps, but it seemed to be a thing, not a person. Were there other demigods? What kind of upgrades did you have?” She catches herself before the next question slips out, the strategist in her hungry to know more, to see how far they’ve come and whether or not they are, better and a greater threat to the Order.
WESSEX
