NEPHELE
For her first time meeting a God, Nephele is not the appreciative type. Though Ludo's words ring true and typical for something Nephele herself might say, she is beyond such platitudes and philosophical inquiries. She whirls in an agitated circle like a caged lion, wings aflutter and face contorted.
"Because your plans have failed!" she snaps. "The Voice has escaped, her monsters have pillaged our forest and killed our Máthair, and she stands now as a portal for any disgusting creature to walk through! My people suffer because your war lost," she spits through heaving breaths, red hair a tangled, fiery tornado upon her crown, "so tell me whether I shall wage one in your place!"
She is being disrespectful, accusatory. But what does she have to lose? It could curse her, true. But the dagger in her hilt is more than capable of drawing across her own neck. It could kill her, but then her suffering will be over. Even if her tongue were capable of lying sweetly to the God like a human's, she would not do it in this moment. "My people are scattered. You have more knowledge of this pretender than any, so yes, I bid you to tell me what to do. To tell me how to destroy them, or how to recover my home, I do not care." Her voice is thick with vitriol and hatred, hazel eyes afire with the deepest kind of hatred for the Ascended and their puppeteer. If she is to have any purpose left in this world, if the Fates had rejected her attempt with the dragons, then perhaps this is it. Perhaps her story is not over.
"Because your plans have failed!" she snaps. "The Voice has escaped, her monsters have pillaged our forest and killed our Máthair, and she stands now as a portal for any disgusting creature to walk through! My people suffer because your war lost," she spits through heaving breaths, red hair a tangled, fiery tornado upon her crown, "so tell me whether I shall wage one in your place!"
She is being disrespectful, accusatory. But what does she have to lose? It could curse her, true. But the dagger in her hilt is more than capable of drawing across her own neck. It could kill her, but then her suffering will be over. Even if her tongue were capable of lying sweetly to the God like a human's, she would not do it in this moment. "My people are scattered. You have more knowledge of this pretender than any, so yes, I bid you to tell me what to do. To tell me how to destroy them, or how to recover my home, I do not care." Her voice is thick with vitriol and hatred, hazel eyes afire with the deepest kind of hatred for the Ascended and their puppeteer. If she is to have any purpose left in this world, if the Fates had rejected her attempt with the dragons, then perhaps this is it. Perhaps her story is not over.
you don't see us, and so we are everywhere
and we will rise up
as red as the dawn
