chaele
worship like a dog
Normal people. It seems like a strange distinction, especially if a man like Deimos would count himself among them. Chaele turns the mug quietly between their hands as they listen, wondering if they have credited him with more prestige than he could reasonably claim. Could it be that these gods are the same, that they simply contain powers and eternities that would complicate any given mortal? It would make sense that they should stoop as low as war to settle their differences.
Whatever discomfort or defense might have been inspired in the Sword, the shaman much enjoys this turn away from so-called cordial conversation. And even the slightest hint of a grin is enough to give her permission to wade further through the reeds of instigation. “My mother was kind, in her way. She gave good advice, but she never gave it twice. If you did not do things the way she liked, she would let you know it. Ours was a house of obedience.”
Only then do they look toward Deimos, trying to catch his wandering eye from behind a now lopsided mask. With whatever point they were trying to prove now made, Chaele relents, “But there is something to be said for someone who wants nothing but the best for the people they are trying to protect. Perhaps that is what she, and you, and Safrin have in common.” If Chaele believes what the Ascended say about cracks in the foundations of incumbent powers, they do not say it out loud. Instead they simply tilt their head, righting their mask beneath the weight of their curiosity.
Whatever discomfort or defense might have been inspired in the Sword, the shaman much enjoys this turn away from so-called cordial conversation. And even the slightest hint of a grin is enough to give her permission to wade further through the reeds of instigation. “My mother was kind, in her way. She gave good advice, but she never gave it twice. If you did not do things the way she liked, she would let you know it. Ours was a house of obedience.”
Only then do they look toward Deimos, trying to catch his wandering eye from behind a now lopsided mask. With whatever point they were trying to prove now made, Chaele relents, “But there is something to be said for someone who wants nothing but the best for the people they are trying to protect. Perhaps that is what she, and you, and Safrin have in common.” If Chaele believes what the Ascended say about cracks in the foundations of incumbent powers, they do not say it out loud. Instead they simply tilt their head, righting their mask beneath the weight of their curiosity.
at the shrine of my lies
