[M] The Throne of Gods: Memories of Divinity - IC

[Scottie]

The Ashen Falls.

They becokened to him like a long lost love. The light flickering in the darkness. Astrophos, the God of Decay, could almost feel its presence on his skin. The gentle ripple of his power across his forearms and up his neck. The skin slowly fused back together, the gaps wounding into thick red scarring and gone was the hollowness of his cheeks. His smile did not leave sections of his face hanging from threads, instead it curved upwards in an almost pleasant way. Closing his eyes, he drank in the scent of the air that hung around them like the hangman’s noose.

Home.

Or well, a form of it.

His days were spent teetering close to this edge. Hanging within balance for without decay there cannot be rebirth. Yet so close to chaos. The scar of a once-great city lay between them. He floated along the broken cobbled streets. The draping of his cloak licking the ground and picking up dust with every movement. His near skeletal hand drifted into the mist, letting the dust within cling to his skin forming a type of glove. A voice murmured to his right. ‘Something is not right’

“The beauty of Averas comes at a cost.” He spoke mostly to himself. For such beauty, the kind to make a human weep if they witnessed it, was not without darkness. It was merely congregated somewhere else. Here. Dull skin that was taut around his fingers appeared to be growing plumper and brighter with every passing second in the falls caress. Protection raised her blade against Magic as darkness flickered from his palm, Atrophos lazily dragged his attention away from them back to the ash. Who would be waiting for them on the other side of the portal? He hoped that she survived. That her time on earth were not as his was.

Alone.

‘CHAOS. SHALL. CONSUME’

Twisting his face towards the noise, Atrophos could only watch as Silvannus had a break of mind. The two wrestled with each other and Atrophos floated to the Goddess that had been flung backwards while the others dealt with whatever was happening to Silvannus. “My dear. You must protect yourself. Come. Let us approach the portal.” His hand stretched out to Visana. His grip stronger as she looked up upon a god that no longer looked like he was festering inches away from death. “If Silvannus decides to let Chaos consume him…then we shall leave him within Hades for that will be his new home.”

[Hannelorian]

Moriteva pulled Marette from her brief mental sojourn, though the memories were still there awoken after a long slumber. The feeling of him pulling her closer was warm and reassuring. "Mori..." Marette began as she stopped moving, instead simply reaching out to hold his hand and stall his forward momentum. Moving to face him head on, her hands moved to rest at his sides. "I've been here before... too many times." Marette motioned toward the falls with a slight nod of her head. Her pulse picked up, racing a bit as she cocked her head to the side. Her eyes carried that profound sadness she had hoped to hide.

"I've been in your garden... and I knew it was you who created it." Though at the time she hadn't known Moriteva personally, only acquainted with his works and name. Marette's life had been long and eventful. Biting her lower lip she simply stared up at him. The Goddess of Time was pained, but still comforted by the Warden of Life, he likely being the only thing preventing her from expressing a far more... extreme reaction. "I had a whole life before I ever met you. There's so much you don't know." It was the truth. There was so much Moriteva didn't know about her. And perhaps he wouldn't feel the same way if he knew the extent of the truth. But the way she felt in this moment she could not deny who she had been.

Marette sighed softly and pressed her forehead into his chest. "And... I just have this horrible feeling..." It was easy enough to just be here with him. It was a world apart from the last person who she spent time with here. This felt right. Perhaps it was time to say something. "Mori... if something... happens and we don't make it to Averas." Once more her gaze shifted upward to look upon his face, her chin resting against him comfortably. "I need to you know that I love you." Marette could hardly believe she had brought herself to say it, but she needed to. She wanted to, she felt compelled to. Perhaps to establish her feelings now, before he would eventually come to know all of her.

"I have loved you for a very long time. And as you know, time is all I have." There was a soft smile on her face, ever so slight. She exhaled deeply in relief, she had finally done the thing she spent millennia avoiding, the last time she confessed her feelings it all ended so badly, so terribly. This would need to be different. But the moment was interrupted by the sound of Silvannus, her head whipped rapidly to face him, to see him and Lunae. His words were angry, the chaos within him was roiling, nearly out of control. "What happened to them? They were so in love..." Marette parted herself from Moriteva and closed the distance to Silvannus. Though by the time she had arrived it appeared Lunae had calmed him.

"Silv." Marette's tone was one entirely of concern as she looked at the two entangled together. "You must control this. You mustn't let the chaos erupt." She offered her hand down to help one of the two up, whichever would take her up on the offer. "The others will not understand, they will want to leave you behind... and I can't let them do that." There was an intimacy there in this moment, a kind of warmth between the two that she hadn't seen since they embarked on this adventure. "And for the love of all things... you cannot hurt Lunae. Especially, Lunae, do you understand me?" Marette once again offered a smile. Her eyes taking in the sight of Atrophos and Visana, likely doubting Silvannus' stability. Santav certainly would prefer they leave the God of Magic behind.

"This isn't you..." Luthious had to be able to help. Something had to be done to save Silvannus from himself, from the powers he had been harboring and growing over the course of how long now. Marette shook her head, but he seemed to at least be back to his sense. A relieving thought. "It's only a little further, and we'll be on our way to a better place... Perhaps a change of scenery will be beneficial." Marette could be so cruel, but she could also be warm and loving to those she truly cared about. Another pang of regret for how she had treated Aegis. Marette was falling apart, or so it seemed. She needed to steel herself.

[RedKayne]

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” Santav growled, his tone dripping with frustration as he watched Silvannus lash out uncontrollably at Lunae. His hand raked through his crimson hair as he rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated by the Arcana god’s reckless behavior. Thankfully, the Forge Master restrained Silvannus and pulled him back from the edge of chaos. Even so, the volatile energy coursing through the deity, a lingering scar of the Prince of Chaos, remained an undeniable threat.

Marette, the Goddess of Time, approached Silvannus with a soft expression, her presence radiating calm. Her words were gentle—soothing, even—far more tender than most of the group’s reactions. But Santav’s jaw clenched. Coddling him? To him, it seemed misplaced, even dangerous, considering Silvannus's history as a traitor and the unpredictable wildcard he represented.

The Charred approached with slow, deliberate steps, each footfall leaving a trail of ash scattered across the desolate gray expanse. Looming over the pair, his piercing golden eyes fixed sharply on Silvannus, narrowing with disdain. “No change of scenery will save him now, Time Maiden,” Santav remarked bluntly, his voice cutting through the tense air. He saw no point in offering hollow reassurances or clinging to futile hope. “This isn’t a matter for the Monarchs to resolve,” he continued, his tone edged with finality. “This burden falls squarely on you, Lord of Magic. It’s your mess to fix.”

"So stop being so pathetic, enough is enough," the Charred growled, his words slicing through the air like daggers. "The chaotic energy festering within you? It's nothing but a fragment—a mere shadow—of the Prince's power. And he’s gone, Silvannus. Dead by his own hand. The sooner you accept that he’s never coming back, the sooner you can conquer these remnants of Chaos."

Santav knelt, bringing himself to eye level with Silvannus, his crimson gaze burning with intensity. "If you don’t pull yourself together—and if you insist on staying with us—I may lack the power to kill you," he said, his voice low and deliberate. He gestured toward Atrophos and Visana with a sharp tilt of his head. "But they won’t hesitate to show you mercy’s absence."

His tone hardened as he continued, each word weighted with finality. "And when they do, you’ll leave behind a legacy far worse than mine." A legacy of a nobody. "You’ll be remembered as a traitor to your faction, a coward who betrayed your closest friends. A fool for placing faith in the Duchess of Pain. And worst of all, as someone who failed to stand up to the ghost of that wretched mongrel, Baldramort."

Rising to his feet, he cast one last searing glance at the broken god before turning on his heel. "Your choice, Silvannus. But time..." he paused his words and finally glanced at Marette, "...won’t wait for you."