B, 6
"Hah!" she says at the mere mention of the possibility. "Hahaha! A vacation day, that's cu-" she freezes. "Wait."
There's a second as she goes to her robe, pulling out the mirror which she needs to poke a toothpick into to start up again.
"Do you seriously just never turn that thing on," you wonder as you grab a bit of grublet for yourself. It has the texture of leather, but tastes strangely like peas, and melts on your tongue in a way you're not sure you enjoy.
"Safety precaution," Beth says, and doesn't feel the need to elaborate. The mirror activates and she takes a moment to look through something you don't quite see, but when she's done she's got a wide grin on her face.
"So the vacation is a-go?" you laugh.
"Just one day," Beth says manically. "But one day's all I need." She runs up and gives you damp smooch on the forehead. "Queh, you're a goddamn genius!"
"So, like tomorrow or maybe the day after?" you ask.
"Oh! Nah, no," Beth shakes her head. "This is for something else. I need to go arrange some things. This could be great! Mind getting the dishes?"
"Oh, um," you lean back and pop another bit of grublet in your mouth, "not a problem."
And with that, she leaves you for about 15 minutes. When she returns, she's outright grinning like an idiot. You try to get more out of her about all the secret plans she's apparently making, but she's a little too distracted to reply to you much. When you go to sleep some time after, you can hear her twisting and turning in bed from excitement for a bit before you pass out yourself.
* * *
The River of Stones opens up like a megalithic whorl behind an unassuming wall underneath the Rainbow Overpass, a small gray plateau under a strictly bounded black sky with a single white sun above casting long, flickering shadows across the assorted godly tools strewn all about. Most of it seems to be disused or even abandoned, the stony structure puckered and recessed into ruin along most of the once-sprawling complex. You see ancient angels sitting atop tall walls chatting nonsense and a few scattered gods with crowbars attempting to lever out the last remaining bits and pieces of the demiplane to unmake for their daily sustenance.
You take a left down into a repurposed storm drain and pass through a tunnel painted wall-to-wall by long-gone mortals for the glory of some urban god in a spectacular clash of late-stage mythology and van-quality space wizards. There are bones here, some with meat still on them being digested by distant relatives of common lice. You give them a wide berth and finally make it to Garvel the Steelbender's forge, a humble little corner in the expansive drain that may have once been a temple of sorts, worn away by time and several rounds of renovation.
Garvel is there, a thirty foot centipede, with each leg a fully articulated seven-fingered grasper, some fashioning black steel like clay, some precariously grasping onto the pipework infesting the room as the expanse of the god struggles to twist itself into maximum productivity. Auxiliary red eyes open up on her many segments, taking you in along several spectra until finding your signature as a potential contractor.
"Contractor," she says. "Hands?" You put 'em up. "Yes, smooth enough. Need one. Provide?"
Confused, you offer a hand. One of Garvel's graspers closes around the wrist, a single finger testing the texture and finding it appropriate. Another closes in, producing a razor-sharp cleaver that rises above your forearm. Startled, you let out a yelp and try to twist out of Garvel's grasp - the attempt isn't immediately successful, but it gives the centipede pause.
"Contract, yes? Provide one hand," she says in bemusement.
"I didn't think you'd cut if off! I mean, I guess I'd, like, survive or whatever even if you did, but still!"
"Only borrow, for 48 hours. Will return afterward with fee, or disintegrate and send net power. Contractor preference," Garvel says, considering you further. "Inexperienced model? Standard procedure in business. Permits multitasking."
A) "Oh, um, okay. If that's standard practice, I guess that's all right then."
B) "Can I just stay here and model for you, er, undivided? I really don't want you to cut my hand off, ma'am, no offense. I like my hands and hate sudden sharp pains, is all."
C) "Uh, nope. Nah. No way, no how. Temporary amputation is still amputation!"
Queh, Goddess of the DarkPower: 3
Goodwill:
6Sanity: 3
Time:
4
Author
Topic: [SG] The Gods Are All Right: Queh, Goddess of the Dark (Read 9979 times)