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

[Azazeal849]

Chisoni focused on placing one milk-pale foot in front of the other, turning the four words Igniteen had spoken to her over in her head, twisting and turning them like a puzzle box. You could say that. And that smile, that almost bittersweet smile. Perhaps the Emberstoker was not entirely blind to the web being spun around her as she accepted Diz’ poisoned gift. Chisoni had stepped back as Jonas and Inoschi approached to congratulate Igniteen, while Temperance and Alatus pointedly did not. They would be the ones to watch, Chisoni supposed. Or perhaps Jonas was simply cleverer, and hiding his knife behind a smile?

She hated this. The way being around Diz’ people was almost as great a strain on the nerves as being around the Ruiner himself. There was no respite from the paranoia.

Nor from her brother.

She remembered Inoschi smiling briefly as he congratulated Igniteen and predicted their imminent deaths. It was a cynical smile, for her brother had no other kind, but it was there, however fleeting. And then it was gone as he drifted away from Igniteen and back to Chisoni, resuming his solemn, bored mask as he re-entered her orbit. It shouldn’t have hurt, after so much time and all the resentment that lay between them, but somehow it still did.

Chisoni raised her head as she heard Damian and Temperance’s voices cut across the steady thrum of the pylons around them. "But you must be careful when listening to grief." the goddess of virtue was saying, not bothering to keep her voice down. "It gives us ideas we shouldn't have, it tempts to lure us away from the path we are meant to be walking."

No, Chisoni thought silently. Grief is a change. To stay the same in the face of it is to walk into my brother’s arms, and to try to ignore it is to run to him. She wondered if the seed she had sought to plant within Damian - if seed it was, for she still wasn’t sure what had compelled her to try and alleviate his misery - would be better nurtured by her intervention or her absence. In any case, she was not about to challenge Temperance in front of everyone, and squabble with her over Damian like two crows over a worm. Chisoni had more pride than that - or hoped that she did, at any rate.

Still, it was difficult to listen to the goddess of Virtue pouring venom into the child-god’s ear, encouraging him to trust Diz, always Diz, only Diz. Just one more piece on the board, to be set up and turned loose. Chisoni’s shadowed gaze flickered over towards Jonas - the one who had arrived with Diz, the one who had stepped up to congratulate Igniteen on her poisoned chalice. Surely the Ruiner’s creature, that one. Or was he? The Nightbringer wore his shadows around him like armour, but in the depths of them Chisoni could sense the same pain that had radiated so strongly from Damian not so long ago. She ghosted up to the shrouded god’s side, falling into step beside him.

“Penny for your thoughts, Shadowsinger?”

[Scottie]

‘You get to lead us to our DOOM’

Ash coated pupils latched to the God that floated around like a whisper of smoke on the breeze. Igniteen let an amused smile twist onto her lips to match his which promptly disappeared when he turned his back. His words continued to spike in her skull. Blasted Despair planting the words in fertile ground to allow flowers of doubt to spring to life.

The God of Despair trailed with the group and Igniteen twisted her head towards him. The firey goddess scanned a cool gaze over his form before she tutted softly. “What led you to this path, Inoschi?” The burning amber in her eyes was steadily disappearing back under the layer of ash. Only darkness within her eyes now. Like a protective cover over the true fire within her chest. “I would have thought you down there….sapping the very joy out of the earth.” A wicked smirk curled onto her lips, if he wanted to be snarky and comment on her new role…so could she.

The Goddess of Fire had taken the lead, weaving her way through the wasteland. Dust picking up with the sweeping train of her dress and the black ash licked out at the nearby metalwork. Her fingertips drifted out towards the God, warmth floating to the hopelessness one. With her presence came that familiar scent. The last nub of wax snuffing out, dipping a room into cold darkness. The desperation that was threaded with need to keep the candle burning, only to watch the flame flicker and then die.

[RedKayne]

The grand doors of the Councilor conference room loomed before them, their intricate gold-and-silver engravings glowing faintly with the pulse of arcane energy. Zypher pressed his palm against the panel, and the heavy doors parted without a sound, revealing the chamber beyond.

The air inside was heavy with a quiet, expectant stillness. The Councilor Room was vast, its towering ceiling adorned with cascading strands of luminous data—coded scripture that pulsed and shifted, the lifeblood of Mechanus itself. A massive crystalline table sat at the center, its surface reflecting intricate star charts, reports, and the ever-turning gears of fate. The chamber radiated order and precision, and every angle was designed with a divine purpose.

At the far end of the room, Daelan, God of Peace, stood with an air of effortless composure, arms crossed over his chest, his pristine white-and-gold robes somehow untouched by the moment's weight. A slow, knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he finally turned to greet them. "Ah, took your time, did you?" His voice was smooth, almost amused, as he tilted his head toward them. "I wondered if I’d have to send a retrieval squad."

The God of Peace exuded an undeniable confidence, one that came not from raw strength, but from the certainty that nothing—nothing—could touch him. He leaned casually against the crystalline table, one hand idly gesturing toward the empty seats. "Go on, sit. No need to look so grim," he continued, his grey eyes flicking between the two of them. "We’re still alive, aren’t we? That puts us ahead of most of our colleagues."

A soft rustle of fabric drew their attention—Sariel, Goddess of Silence, standing just off to the side, her expression unreadable beneath the hood of her onyx-and-silver robes. She made no sound and gave no acknowledgment of his words, but there was a subtle shift in the air as if she silently disapproved of his casual demeanor.

Daelan only grinned at that, unbothered. "Come now, don’t look so tense. We’ve got a war to discuss, after all," he mused, tapping a finger against the shimmering table, "And I’d rather not start it with everyone sulking."

Lanaei cocked an eyebrow at the God of Peace, though there was a smile plain on her face. She did truly adore her fellow Councillors, especially with Selrina in her current state, she saw them akin to family. A hand was waved towards the seats and Lanaei’s footstep stumbled as she realized how empty the room would surely be now. With four newly gone, the chairs would be untouched. The Goddess of Seasons fought against the sadness that trickled through her chest, not even the gentle chastising of Daelan could tempt a smile back.

Her fingers drifted away from Zephyr’s arm and she turned her attention to the soft noise that beckoned her attention. Even with her silence, Sariel had a way of displaying her emotions. Lanaei drifted closer to the grand table, her fingertips landing on the reflective cool table. “War” She repeated the word, her voice breaking through Daelan’s cheeky musings and Sariel’s loud silence.

“Surely….Surely there is another way.” War was not something she excelled at. Spring was a time of rebirth, change, and life. She was the maiden that tempted the bulbs to burst free from the soil and aid the stumbling lambs with their first steps. She was not the one to crash the blade down. Not the one to destroy. Piercing green eyes traveled to Zephyr as she raised her chin. Worry corroded through the green but Lanaei settled into her chosen seat and folded her hands lightly on the crystal. “Where are the others?”

Daelan arched a brow, feigning mild surprise. "We are the only ones left, Goddess of Seasons," he stated flatly. "We never did find replacements for Lucielle and Zeyra. The quality of deities these days is, well… lacking." He waved a hand dismissively. "And we wouldn’t want to lower our standards any further just to fill empty seats." His words dripped with condescension, the implication clear—both Lanaei and Zypher, the newest among them, were not quite up to the old Council’s caliber.

Zypher didn’t hesitate to respond, his blue eyes sharpening as he took a seat beside Lanaei, arms crossed over his chest. "Just because we come from outside Mechanus doesn’t mean we’re lesser, Daelan," the God of Purification said coolly. There was no anger in his tone—just a steady, unyielding defiance.

Before Daelan could offer a smug retort, the grand double doors of the Councilor chamber swung open once more. The presence that entered needed no announcement. Harku, the Duke of Freedom, strode in, his piercing gaze sweeping across the room as he moved to the helm of the crystalline table. He sat without ceremony, fingers steepling as he regarded them in silence for a moment.

"Everyone’s present. Good." His voice was measured, but a thinly veiled fury burned beneath the surface. The Duke of Freedom had been outmaneuvered, and the thought alone was intolerable. "The God of Ruin has proven more resourceful than expected. His rebellion has cost us half our Council." A silent rage simmered beneath his words, his pride wounded. Harku’s gaze darkened. "We also now understand why he targeted Elayne specifically—he sought the location of the Titans’ homeworld." His voice sharpened, like the edge of a blade. "We cannot allow him to enlist them."

His gaze fell upon Daelan. "You will take a ship from Metropolis and head directly to the Titan homeworld. We have not made contact with them since their last siege attempt, but do whatever it takes to ensure they do not side with the Ruiner. There is a force already en route, led by a former Councilor, but I trust you can handle them."

For a brief moment, Daelan appeared to consider the order, before a slow, confident smile stretched across his lips. He inclined his head in an almost lazy bow. "Of course, my Duke. I’ll go above and beyond—I won’t just prevent their alliance. I’ll bring them to our side, and together, we’ll crush the insignificant insects that dared to defy you."

Harku shifted his attention. "Zypher, Lanaei," his voice cut through the chamber like tempered steel. "Your task is to uncover the true heart of Diz’s rebellion. Find their headquarters—once you do, retrieve me, and I will end it myself.” Finally, his gaze turned to Sariel, the silent shadow in the room. "Diz intends to sever our portal networks, cutting off support from Elysium and Averas. Ensure he fails."

The only ones left. The words continued to slither through her skull, even as Daelan waved dismissively to her. She didn’t even truly hear his scathing comment on Zypher and herself. They were like names on a chalkboard, slowly being wiped off until nothing was left but darkness. Her gaze focused on Daelan when Zypher’s response sliced through the fog in her mind. We are not lesser. We have just as much a right to sit here. She wanted to add her voice to Zypher’s, create a wall of defense against the smugness that radiated from Daelan like a stink in the middle of summer.

As if his presence chimed with an air of calm, Lanaei was grateful that Harku arrived when he did. Emerald green eyes settled on the God who was calculated in his words but held a simmering rage weaving in the letters. Her fingers dropped below the edge of the table, and she wound them in the fabric of her robes. Curling tightly as he said the Titans. They would try to enlist the Titans. If they succeeded….there would be nothing they could do.

Her name stamped on Harku’s tongue and Lanaei snapped her gaze to him. Waiting for orders. She would do anything that she could to help him, to help them all. Pairing her with Zypher was wise, though it may be as useful for Zypher. She had not fought in so long, Winter had taken over and Spring was used to calm. To light and joy and life. Find their headquarters. Find those that were harming them and then call for Harku to end it. She could do that. She nodded, almost a smidge violently in her eagerness to prove herself.

Zyphyr’s arms folded across his chest, his stance unwavering. “Consider it done, my Duke.” There was no hesitation, no doubt. He had fought in the depths of Earth’s chaos, had survived the Fall when so many others hadn’t. He had endured the pain of loss and carried it with him, using it as fuel to sharpen his resolve.

Then, with a final nod, he turned to Lanaei. “Let’s move. We have work to do.”

[RedKayne]

Damian remained silent at first, letting the strange resonance of the Flats press against his skin like a second heartbeat. The vibrations of the towering forks hummed through his bones, whispering frequencies that felt almost familiar—like the echoes of something ancient, something waiting. He exhaled slowly, watching the shimmering auroras ripple and shift above them as if the very sky pulsed with some unheard rhythm.

At first, he barely reacted to Temperance’s touch, his thoughts too tangled in the weight of her words. Chisoni… He wasn’t sure how to feel about their conversation. He wasn’t sure how to feel about any of this. The frustration, the disappointment, the endless cycle of expectation and failure. He wasn’t a child. He wasn’t some tool to be sharpened and wielded at someone else’s whim. And yet… that was what he had allowed himself to become. That was what Diz had made him.

His fists clenched. Diz.

Temperance’s voice was soft, coaxing, a melody laced with caution and reassurance. Trust Diz in all things. That was the part that stuck with him the most, ringing in his head like the endless chime of the Flats. Trust. Trust in what? In his plan? That he can't even be a privy of? The plan that Elayne tried to warn him before her untimely death?

Trust in his vision? In the way he spoke of Damian’s destiny like it was already carved into the fabric of reality as if he had no say in it at all?

He wanted to believe her. He wanted to believe all of them. That this was his path, that he was doing well, that this was where he was meant to be. That he wasn’t just a failure waiting to happen.

But doubt—it festered, even in the presence of reassurance.

Damian released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. "Grief isn’t what blinds me,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “It’s the expectation.” His gaze flickered to Temperance for only a moment before settling back on the undulating sky. “It’s knowing that no matter what I do, it will never be enough.”

The Flats hummed around him as if responding to his words. He let the silence stretch between them before shaking his head slightly. “But you’re right. I should train more. Control it. Get better.” A familiar resolution settled over him—one that had been drilled into him since he was old enough to understand the concept of power.

Because if he didn’t control it… what use was he?

He forced a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his molten eyes. “And yeah… this place is wild.”

[Iwazuma]

The Resonant Flats. Jonas was left to trail towards the back of the group with their new assignment. Igniteen was given the lead, which he had been genuinely happy for her about, if not a little bit jealous. But he knew what the reality behind her promotion was. He was likely the only one. And as much as he would have loved to get to know the newly minted Horseman a little better as well as do his new job, the swirling wisp of Inoschi got to her first. Jonas sighed. He supposed he wasn't going to get to talk to her again for a little while. His eyes scanned the surreal landscape, locking on Damian, who'd not-so-subtly challenged Jonas earlier with his particularly positive take on their new mission. So confident they'd succeed in recruiting the Titans, apparently. He wondered-how much of that was himself, and how much was outside influence? From Temperance, from Diz...perhaps even from Baldramort. He was nothing but a piece of everyone's game. Jonas put his hands in his pockets, his shadowy form just barely perceptible in the eerie, dim light. He understood that. Just being a cog in greater machines. Hell, that's what he was now. But everyone was so damn interested in him. He was probably being mentally pulled this way and that, being dragged off to fulfill whatever prophecy he was scheduled to be a part of next.

He understood that, too. To a point.

And Temperance was back at his ear again, whispering sweet nothings that Jonas couldn't quite make out. Probably more saccharine, if he was to guess. He knew they all fought for the same cause, but he couldn't help but feel a little bit burned up watching it play out. It reminded him all too much of Belladonna, encouraging Jonas to join the bloodshed of his brother. Before those whispers turned into demands, and then beatings, of course. Jonas sighed once again, shaking his head. Why did everything have to remind him of his family? A dead brother, absent father, abusive mother...his upbringing was like a sad novel. And Damian was treading along the same path.

"Hey." Jonas snapped loud enough for Damian and Temperance to hear. "You don't have to listen to her. Follow your own damn path. No need to be everyone's pawn if you don't want to. Be your own fuckin' guide." Jonas' profanity-laced words of wisdom were a little pointed, but it was something he'd been trying to tell Damian since he'd run across him. But always the black-dressed Councilor by his side, or even...ah. Jonas turned his head, his expression sour as Chisoni fell into line beside him. The Griever. Penny for his thoughts? Wasn't the first time he'd heard that one before. But was she genuine about it? Was anyone truly genuine amidst Diz's army?

The thrums of the Radiant Flats echoed around him, resonating deep within and bringing a slight vibration to his shadows that only made his appearance even more shrouded. It was like they attempted to echo deep within his very soul. It reminded him of an ominous warning of sorts-as though the tuning forks stationed everywhere were meant to be a message that none of them were intelligent enough to understand. Who placed them here? Suriyel? The Titans? Something even older? And what was their purpose? For something to be a myth even among the gods, what message-or power-did they hold? And most of all, why wouldn't they stop? The slight ringing was intrusive, as though trying to strip his shadows bare.

"That I fuckin' hate it here." Jonas offered his thoughts pointedly, though he did not seem to be frustrated with Chisoni in particular. "But I imagine that's not why you asked. Care to be any more specific?" Jonas' shadow-wreathed face softened. He was being too hard, and the Flats were a source of irritation that wasn't helping, and neither was Temperance's honeyed whispering in Damian's ear. Jonas at least had given the attempt to let him find his own voice. But for now, that could until another time. What was on Chisoni's mind?

[Hannelorian]

Virtue walked alongside Damian as he spoke, opening up to her perhaps more than he realized. It was an expected response, the frustration Damian must have felt would be enormous. “There are things you don’t need me to tell you, but I venture I’ll tell you anyway.” Temperance smiled softly, drawing herself closer to Damian’s side.

“Expectation is a weight that can crush. Diz has a particular way of making that weight feel like the weight of the multiverse itself. He’s arrogant, demanding, at times the most frustrating man in existence.” Temperance chuckled lightly, even if she did love Diz, she was not blind to his less than ideal behaviors. “You are no exception to that, in fact you are probably the one with more than most. A pity for someone so young.” Temperance had spent millennia learning to cope with the pressure of expectation.

“You aren’t a failure. You haven’t let anyone down. Not him, not me. You don’t even know what your purpose is, nor do I. That seems cruel.” Temperance was the first to acknowledge this. “Diz will always be proud of you. He’s hard on you because he loves you, because he knows what you are capable of. And when the pressure gets too much, the expectations are too high. Find me. You are enough Damian, the rest of us have had many lifetimes to learn who we are, and how to be ourselves, control our powers. For 100, you’re doing very well. I was a mess at 100.” Temperance chuckled again and rested her hand on his shoulder once more to squeeze it.

“Doubt is natural. Conquering it is your challenge, and I know you’ll succeed. You have a village to support you.”

From the darkness there was more darkness, and the sound of Jonas voice rushing toward their ears. "You don't have to listen to her. Follow your own damn path. No need to be everyone's pawn if you don't want to. Be your own fuckin' guide."

Always something to say that Jonas... however if Jonas words further led Damian astray, the comment would not be so lightly received. Temperance turned her head to the God and flashed a bright smile before her attention drifted once more to Damian. "He is right, you know. You don't have to listen to me. You are your own deity. Lean on us when you need help or advice."

Temperance smiled and slowly departed a silent rage slowly building within her. However, it was a conflicted rage. Of course she knew that Jonas was right, but that went against the mission. That sense of freedom could be dangerous, for all of them. Diz must be obeyed. "I'll let you be." Her words were soft, she squeezed Damian's shoulder gently once more before drifting across the flat toward Alatus, the silent and aloof one. Her steps were silent, the black fabric of her dress flowing gently along the ground behind her, eyes dark as night landing squarely on him. He was her target now.