Things didn't always work out according to plan.The firekin had been in his sights so long ago... it truly felt like a lifetime ago. A king that ruled with an iron paw, sparing not even his children from bloody retribution. The young lioness had given birth to the three, and not one had risen to fulfill their destiny. The legacy of the firekin continued and then faded into a few remaining embers. The days of bloodshed, slavery, and vile executions were over. While they were a beast of an entirely different form, they had managed to devour themselves from the inside-out. The royals were knocked back. Finar-Si's purest children now lived as second-class citizens in a political behemoth of a pride. It was a suitable punishment for them. Perhaps Finar-Si herself had been rubbed the wrong way to watch her children destroy themselves in such a way. Now purity was a thing of the past. In a few generations, her legacy would be so deluded that no mortal could claim her as their matriarch.
Hestia, at least, would find some amusement in the situation of the once grand firekin. He hadn't seen pinion or quill of that god for ages as well. Perhaps she, like Finar-Si, had grown weary of their games with the mortals and retreated. He had... so long ago.
He had remained, turning his attention instead to a single cub left in a cave behind the falls of the valley of the mistweavers. The firekin had raided what few had survived the terrible plague, leaving death and a single hidden cub in their wake. He wouldn't have taken much notice if not for the god of storms himself. The storm king, the mistweavers had called him back then. He had called on hope to see that the pride was never lost. With only one b*****d prince as their legacy, the situation had seemed hopeless. It seemed that way for a long time.
He had failed the firekin. His own hope for the mortals of the desert had long been detoured from his destiny and now found himself wandering the desert once again. Wokovu.... perhaps the lion who was to be the hope of the fire could be the hope of the water. The god considered as he watched the black-maned mortal. He took little notice when another god stepped up beside him.
"Isn't there something more interesting you can watch, old man?" A silky smooth voice dripping in sarcasm broke the silence and with it the thoughts of the older god. Dih'ji turned his head and flicked an ear back.
"...Egotism."
"It's Rama."
"Of course. My apologies." He was too used to the formality of addressing another god by their domain rather than their given name. Not without permission anyway. It seemed intrusive to some degree. Of course, many of the newer gods seemed... rather informal. Wild, reckless, almost dismissive of their duties. Others delighted in toying with the mortals while still others outright ignored them. There seemed to be so few that took their duties seriously. The praise of the mortals was like a crop- it had to be cultivated and carefully watched over in order to reap any kind of harvest.
"So what's got you looking so solemn?" The dark god dropped down to lay beside the older god. A bold move, but he had observed this young whelp as well. Egotism hardly had to work for his praise. Egotism was something that fed itself, and thus, fed him quite well. Why he was taking an interest in what another god was beyond him. Perhaps he sought to stroke his ego in the presence of his brothers and sisters. No one could blame him. It was his domain.
Dih'ji bobbed his shoulders and looked back through the window to the mortal world- a pool of water settled neatly within a crystal bowl. A dip in the ground set like a gem in the earth of the god's haven itself. "This one. What do you see?"
"... I see a male lion. A boring. Plain. Kind of dull male lion." Rama glanced over. "You know- there's a lot of girls down there you can be peeking at."
Dih'ji shot a scolding look over but it was lost on Rama. The god only quirked an eyebrow and bobbed a shoulder.
"...these pools are provided to us by Mkodi herself to oversee those that carry our blessings and those that our domain exists within-"
"You're peeking."
"Peeking." The god snorted.
"Nosey- and boring. He's walking. In sand."
"Very close to a pride that has recently begun to crop up. One that embraces the practice of slavery."
"And...." Rama waved a paw about. "I care about this how?"
"You may not- unless your domain thrives among them. Of that I have no doubt."
"Again, I really don't care." He glanced over.
"...again, I have no doubt." Dih'ji offered dryly. "This one-" he nodded to the pool, "Once carried my personal hopes."
"He was blessed?"
"Not...exactly." The older god's eyes darkened, "He was supposed to learn how to survive, how to grow stronger....how to become a beacon of hope to those such as himself. He caries the royal blood of FInar-si's children with him."
"A firekin. But one of those.... hurkies?"
"Huria is the new word for his kind." Dih'ji corrected, "Wokovu has learned, but he never returned to the firekin. By the time he was an adult, they were already devouring themselves from the inside out."
"So why worry? Seems things worked out."
"Not the way they were supposed to." He said gravely.
"That's a little...well arrogant. You'd do my brother proud."
Dih'ji wince and glanced over. "Arrogant?"
"To think that your plans are better than theirs. I mean-" He threw his paws up. "I know my plans are- but here's the thing- I plan for myself. I can control myself. How I act, how I think, how I do my mane, who I choose to mate with. Them?" He waved a paw over the pool. "You can give them a nudge, a suggestion, a firm scolding, but in the end they're gonna do what they want to do. Most down there don't care if there's one or two bleeding heart gods out there. It's not their problem to worry about us. They got their own problems. Him, for instance, is a boring looking guy. Plain, solid- nothing flashy."
Even with Rama's...isms, he had a point. The mortals could be guided, but they had their own minds. They would find their own ways if it suited them. The gods perhaps had imposed themselves a little too much on them and it had effected the outcome. Perhaps their interference had pushed the future down the wrong road.
He made a face. "...well. It is our jobs to serve them."
"Nooo~", Rama poked the older lion's nose. "It's -your- job to serve them. It's my job to be served. There's givers and takers. What's that thing that old Sammy's always going on about? Balance?"
"Karma."
"That's it." Rama rose to all fours and stretched his back out. "Karma. You keep giving, old man, I'll do my job. We all get along."
Word Count
1,200
