[M] The Throne of Gods: Divinity's Requiem - IC

[Hannelorian]

A familiar scent consumed Temperance, the sweet smell of incense, the particular kind employed by the Vestal Virgins. It brought a wide smile to the Goddess of Virtue's face. "Igniteen." Temperance was not surprised to see her here. The stories of the wild flame that burned white hot in anger had been that of legend, even amongst the gods. "I'd take you everywhere if it meant I could inhale that scent." The smirk on Temperance's face was wild, indeed she was entirely intrigued to finally meet Igniteen.

"Crushing hope is easy." The Goddess replied smoothly, turning her face to properly look at the Goddess beside her. "Hope is a vapid emotion. It is superficial at best, damning at worst." The Goddess of Virtue shrugged her shoulders. "Hope does not guarantee survival, it merely prolongs the inevitable. To remind Hope that she is in fact hopeless is the greatest gift of all." A wicked giggle escaped her lips followed by a sigh.

Elayne and Kabuto began to drone on about their situation, facing it all with dignity as Guinevere quietly writhed in her mental anguish. The shine had worn off. But it wouldn't last for long. What was it about the other factions and their need to add a sense of poetry to everything? They couldn't simply accept fate without a rousing speech of some kind to still their nerves. It was only the boom of yet another familiar voice that brought the situation into perfect clarity. It wouldn't be like Harku to simply let his Councilors be taken, another loyal dog would be unleashed to retrieve them. Once more with gusto and feeling Markus gave them an opportunity to surrender and renounce their ways. This was getting old. Boring again. It was never any different with the likes of Heroism. Such bravado and arrogance. If it couldn't be backed up, there was nothing more than hollow promises, Guinevere all over again.

"Why can't they learn any new tricks?" Temperance wondered aloud as the darkness, a familiar tool, was employed against them. Dense and suffocating, stinging the eyes. Annoying more than anything else. "If you think simply because you stand united that we cannot conquer you... It is a rather sad state, assuming your victory ensures your defeat." Temperance's voice was stern, serious and commanding. Even through the darkness she made sure her presence was known and that she was not terribly pleased with this turn of events. Too many times had she seen this before, and it always ended the same way. Exactly as she wanted it to.

"Igniteen, can you burn off this foul smoke screen?" Temperance asked rather calmly as she fought through the pain and the discomfort. Making her way through the shroud toward Damian who she could hear losing control. He was still so young, and while it made him infinitely moldable, it also made him dangerous, especially to the deities on his own side. A juvenile God of the Apocalypse out of control was a useless God of the Apocalypse. The child needed a guiding hand, someone with a softer touch than Diz could always offer. He needed something maternal, a role Temperance attempted to fill to the best of her ability when she was in his presence.

A hand reached through the darkness and planted itself on Damian's shoulder, squeezing heavily and drawing him in. "Calm yourself, Damian darling." The Goddess of Virtue spoke once more with a commanding, but compassionate tone. The power of Virtuous Whispers employing themselves. "Patience." It was after all one of the most powerful virtues and one of the hardest to master. "If you channel your emotion into your power and wait for the right moment to strike, you will have your prize. The head of Heroism in your own two hands. Think of what that will feel like." Temperance smirked in the darkness as the stinging of her eyes produced silent tears. At the same time she could lend him her strength exactly as she had done for Inoschi when they moved to capture the errant and irritating goddess of hope. No, Temperance would have her revenge yet on that flitting dimwit.

The power leveraged against them was their own. Still furthering annoying that the forces of good would use against them. That was no matter. They would be outmatched. "Patience and strategic strikes." She reminded the young deity, the smile spread across her face broken by the sincerest of giggles. Perhaps this would prove entertaining yet. A fun little game of cat and mouse. Cats though, cats had nine lives.