[Edel] PRP - Passing Afternoon (Arden/BuzzBuzz/Endi)

[Syrie]

Cleaning up the Great Library - even with the help of Akakios, Revei, Hue and the various other members of his retinue - was slow going. For every one book, manuscript or scroll that they were able to save three were beyond help or repair. There were endless piles of dust and debris to be cleaned and removed (burned or disposed of in a manner that would allow them to reuse the remains), shelving that either had to be fixed or removed...the list went on and on. It was a daunting task, to be sure - and add onto that the fact that Endiovar and Revei had plans to begin a temple for themselves (and Gianfar, of course)...well, there were times when the curly-haired god of Silence felt that they would never complete the work.

And yet, day after day, he labored; with love in his heart and a sense of purpose in his mind. There were other things to be done, outside of the Library - his promise to Creation...his wont to return to the Silent Forest and have it remade with Glyph's help...the Towers of Silence planned with Nergal...

Many things to be done. Things that would be done - in their own time.

At this moment, he had the doors to the Great Library held wide open; a small table set with food and drink. Break time, apparently. He nibbled at cheeses and fruits, sipped at hot tea with honey and cinnamon...and sat quietly on his own; enjoying the silence.

[Tsunake]

As expected, Arden was tired. It was becoming far too easy to fall asleep these days, and far too difficult to wake up. His strong, angular face was becoming rough with stubble, and the dark shadows clumped underneath his eyes gave him a sickly hue. The soldier had taken to roaming mindlessly about the Pantheon, tuning out the sympathetic whispers and chuckles floating just behind his consciousness. He tried not to think about how this was likely all of Bazyli's doing, and how, inevitably, his strength was beginning to fail him.

The only reason he took any notice that he had wandered into a library of sorts was when he bumped into what appeared to be a small table of sorts, which rattled its dishes disapprovingly at his lack of sense. There was a sluggish sort of blink, and Arden took in the sight for a moment, slowly tracing it until, he realized with a faint ping of alarm, his eyes settled upon someone. Something.

"Sorry." He muttered, armored fingers pressing woozily at his forehead. He was unaware that his physical state might have been alarming to some--particularly with out of it he seemed to be.

Where Arden was oblivious to whom he had interrupted, however, Bazyli was not. The god gently encouraged his host to lift his head and take in the pale being a bit more closely, studying the telltale signs and feelings that this was one of his... kin. How delightful."Forgive him, brother, he was never one for manners..." It was a dry rasp of sound, like the wind rattling through dead leaves.

Arden mistook the voice for merely being inside his head again, and didn't bother to correct him. Even the buzz of speech against his lips was, mostly, ignored.

[Syrie]

A haggard looking ghost of a man came wandering into the Great Library with empty, soulless eyes and an expression that was faintly distressing. Endiovar watched him nearly stumbling through the door, wondering when - indeed if - the man would notice him; it was even more disconcerting to realize that whomever this person was...he obviously had no idea where he was or even that there was another person nearby. Granted, Silence was probably one of the True Gods that people found easiest to pass over, but still...The man had all but been looking right at him (or at least in his direction!).

It was quite obvious to Silence that there was something very unwell about his new companion: by face, form and also by the faint thread of diefic energy that could be felt winding away from the sunken eyes, sallow cheeks and bowed body. 'Another host...and one that is not doing well at all...' Endiovar sadly thought to himself, kind eyes watching Arden as he bumped into the table, rattling the dishes - he had meant to call out, one hand raised up as though it would help, but he had not. Something had kept his tongue still...Arden seemed like utterly dispondent and Silence was loathe to force him from the stupor he had retreated into.

'Do not apologise my friends. Please, sit and rest...I would like if you would join me. As he not-spoke to Arden and whomever was being reborn through him, the curly-haired god rose so that he could gently guide the armoured man into a chair at the table; he would even set some food and drink out for him, encourage Arden to eat and drink. That rasping, buzzing sound that came from the man's mouth was colored with mana - definitely the God's voice. Familiar and yet not...interesting.

"I am Endiovar of Silence. Know that within my presence you need not struggle to speak, for I 'hear' what is unspoken and intended." He didn't want man nor God to strain themselves...not when it was painfully obvious one was not doing well and the other should be resting for the emminent rebirth.

[Tsunake]

His weary limbs nearly folded in upon themselves as gentle hands eased him into a nearby chair, but he only stared dully at the food for a moment, taking a mild interest in the colors and nothing more. His very will to live was, currently, being suppressed. A useful trait, to be sure. I am Bazyli. Famine. It would not do for this body to perish before he had obtained it, and carefully, the god unwound his will from the more primal instincts of the mortal.

Arden suddenly was aware of how hungry he was, and he set upon the food ravenously, only able to comprehend the stabbing ache in his gut. How long have you walked in this realm again? Bazyli wanted to know, pleased he could still communicate while ignoring his host altogether. It was no different than a servant, though he'd have struck down any lesser being for such noise.

Of course, it wouldn't be much longer now. Of that, he had no doubt.

[Syrie]

'Quite, yes.' As long as Arden would eat, Endiovar would ply him with food and drink while mentally chiding the weary host's immortal 'houseguest' for being so rough with him. Mortals required food and drink, closeness and touch, to survive - granted, this mortal was not slated to 'survive' much longer, but still...

Ah, to each deity their own, really - who was he to try and make another God treat their host with more respect? They could be as kind or unkind as they wished.

'I have been here some time now...before the Grigori removed His name, much before. None of the children were yet in this world...so much was not around, friend.' Whether this god would prove friend or foe in time was a moot point; Endiovar would not treat his guests as anything but.

[Tsunake]

The soldier had seen better days, surely, and the kindness was an unexpected, but greatly appreciated sentiment. If he were in his right mind, he would have thanked the God of Silence profusely. As it was, he could only think to reach out, his armor-plated hand lightly touching the pale, seemingly delicate skin of Endiovar's. Emotions flickered over the man's face, conflicted, but he couldn't seem to sort out exactly what it was that he wanted to do, or say. After a moment, he removed his hand, and returned to the meal that had been generously provided for him.

I see. A pity, that, but we can only move forward now. Not quite a dismissal, but close. Silence was a neutral realm, one that Bazyli had no thoughts on one way or another. Still, information was incredibly useful, and he would not waste such an opportunity.

The Grigori. How soon until you think they strike again? Much as he would have craved the presence of Destruction once more, Balance was what was vital, here. They could not risk everything falling to pieces again quite so soon.

[Syrie]

So poignant was the soldier's plight, the soft touch to his hand and display of emotion unfettered, that Endiovar felt his heart ache for the man. Clearly he wished to thank him for the meal, for the courtesy and kindness that he offered as a rule...but he could not; with a smile, Silence reminded him that speech - that thanks were not necessary. With Arden returned to his meal, the god of Silence returned his attention back to Bazyli.

'Indeed, that is what we all work towards.' Moving forward, that is. Rebuilding and working to return All That Is to a stable, wonderfully lush place once more. 'There is no telling, but I feel that they will not tarry long. The longer they wait, the stronger we become - it makes little sense to allow us a long stretch.' He remembered seeing the Void-rot on Arctang's neck...the Dragon King Yu Five Claws' leg (returned only to him with the aid of his shifting body) and he knew that the Grigori would return as swiftly as they could bring their army over using Gaia's arm as their own personal gateway.

[Tsunake]

Surprise colored Arden's features for a moment, his mindless, hungry movements crawling to a halt. The words, in his head. Like Bazyli's, but different somehow. Gentler. It didn't set him on edge, though--not that he really would have been able to be intimidating in this sort of state. How can we speak like this? He ventured wearily, wetting his throat with a bit of drink. Famine saw no need to quash his host for now. The man was already beginning to rot away from the inside out. Soon, he would be little more than a husk, ripe for the taking.

Perhaps they grow stronger as well. They have already proven that they can overpower us--and with time, they will devise a new, clever plan. The god chuckled, but the sound held no mirth. Time will tell. The weak will be crushed, and the strong shall survive.