Carmanthyre was alone in the clearing with Silver. The old man was gasping for breath, able to sense the power of the gods but unable to see any but Carmanthyre and brief glimpses of those the mite-god touched.
Carmanthyre settled on a tree branch eye-level with Silver. The old Northren turned to look at him, eyes wide in fear.
Little man? Little man hush. Clamness! Calmness like ocean, ocean whoosh, ocean splash, but ocean never angry, no?
The northren had never seen the ocean, living inland all his life. But he nodded yes anyways. To do otherwise was tantamount to suicide, whether the god was going to kill him or not. Silver had no way of knowing who controled what, only that one wanted to kill the nude woman.
Come! Come! See mommy again! Touch mommy, and maybe good thing happen! Or...
Said the little god, the branch he was sitting on leaning forward towards Silver.
big boom. New moon. But no gain with no risk! Always roll of die, but heroes always win! See! See! No more blindeness little man! Look, observe! Trust! Gods like big babies, crying, whining, moaning for mommy milk but mommy sleep deep and no milk from sleepy mommy!
So gods make own milk! Gods grow, get old! Now, this time, Gods like little child! No need mommy milk, but mommy keep gods safe and sound in house. Take sword to round table! I tell where go, and when you see, I grow big and strong and talk better like growed up! No more baby-waby talk for god of heroes, but I speak like little kid, then like young man, then old man, and finally talk as a god! Dip me in honey, and I drink and grow smart and big and strong like mommy! And so do you!
With that, the mote-god whipped into the sword, leaving the gleaming blade ringing. Silver pried himself from the tree, feeling braver than before now that there was only one... Baby... god in the clearing. Hesitantly, he wrapped his hand around the blade and followed the trail of crushed grass and what seemed to be rose petals. Every few steps he'd find a black, tar-like substance smeared on a leaf, or branch, and he knew that some god of evil was here as well.
"Honey?" He muttered, thinking perhaps the god of heroes grew on the blood of villany. He dipped the blade in the tar.
Ahhh! Yucky! Yucky! No use me like that! Grossly, grossly, grossly! Eww, taste bad, like murder! Yucky! The blade complained. Silver quickly drew the blade out of the black substance.
"Sorry! I thought you wanted honey?!" Said Silver indignantly'
That no honey! Shaq leave yucky where he touch live thing. Deadness, blackness, leave Shaq where Shaq walk. Death. Gross.
"Oh." Said Silver, pretending to understand what the hell Carmanthyre was talking about.
They walked on for a few miles, which took only minute in this odd realm of shifting islands and trees. Nature took precedence here over the very laws of reality, and life flourished and died in every crack and hole. Soon enough, the god and the mortal stood at another clearing. This time, a massive stone table took up most of the space, with fallen logs providing benches for the gods to sit upon. Silver held the sword to his mouth, feeling like a fool, and whispered:
"Where is... 'Mommy'? I don't see her."
Mommy on big white log, over there. Said the sword back, and it whirled around to point at a stark white birch log at one end of the table.
The log looked recently fallen, with a hint of sap dripping from the sides. Silver took a step closer to it, hesitated, and extended a finger...
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Topic: Godhood III Play Thread (Read 38753 times)