For decades following the thunderous implosion of silence that echoed from a distant place, Lethys was nothing if not cautious. This was nothing to prove Nemesis was gone; nothing to say this wasn't some newly-implemented skill in his arsenal to hide himself away and burn back down on Eden and itsremaining gods like a meteor strike the moment the world's guard was down.
Even so, Nemesis' hand might be stayed by proving his usefulness for a little longer. And beyond that, survival first. So in those first decades, rather than resting on his scant, pitiable laurels, Lethys picked up the pieces of his last bastion of faith, kept his guard up, and eventually ventured down from the lofty peak territory of his retreat.
The two peoples of the plains were few, especially those closest, but that meant they were amenable to what little aid and few boons Lethys could offer in his diminished state - and anyway they remembered him, in handed-down history. Perhaps some mortal guilt remained in their blood at their own conversion.
None remained in the rest, as far as Lethys could tell from his probing. And probe he did, though caution kept any real godly actions close to his temple and away from the further villages, until more than a few generations had come and gone. No matter how much his proximity to the void chilled him, and no matter his fears of Nemesis somehow returning to find him idle, the thought of seizing villages in the same rush as before has been somewhat soured.
Lethys is not the only one with a change of habit. Laetes takes to roaming - or more accurately, pacing long, loping miles between the villages. He stops when his god orders him to, waiting with a distant stare and bared jaws, only to wander again, restless, when Lethys' attention is pulled elsewhere. Waiting for something, or perhaps worrying about something. Any similarities to Lethys' own behaviour is missed by both.
It is during one of these tense, explorative wanderings that Laetes' ears prick up in alarm and his head snaps around to pin his eyes firmly on the distant shape of the enemy's temple. After barely a moment's consideration, he begins a beeline - but a god is always faster than a Creature, and in top frantic form, an icy-blue streak passes overhead.
An intangible glow of belief and power does not skid to a halt, though perhaps a particularly eccentric poet might describe it that way when Lethys comes to an abrupt stop in the sky beside the Temple.
Several hundred thoughts and fears push to the front of his mind and begin to line up in order of likelihood as he simply hangs in the air and watches, laser-focused, as the gigantic Leopard gardens the Temple of Monzun.
Lethys is unable to come up with anything to say. Still, older Creatures are cleverer than to be underestimated. He manages something - eventually.
"You," he addresses her, "Creature." There is another long, cavernous pause, and the next part comes out far more uncertain. "What is your business here?"
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
syntheid
no subject
Date: 2025-03-18 05:10 pm (UTC)Even so, Nemesis' hand might be stayed by proving his usefulness for a little longer. And beyond that, survival first. So in those first decades, rather than resting on his scant, pitiable laurels, Lethys picked up the pieces of his last bastion of faith, kept his guard up, and eventually ventured down from the lofty peak territory of his retreat.
The two peoples of the plains were few, especially those closest, but that meant they were amenable to what little aid and few boons Lethys could offer in his diminished state - and anyway they remembered him, in handed-down history. Perhaps some mortal guilt remained in their blood at their own conversion.
None remained in the rest, as far as Lethys could tell from his probing. And probe he did, though caution kept any real godly actions close to his temple and away from the further villages, until more than a few generations had come and gone. No matter how much his proximity to the void chilled him, and no matter his fears of Nemesis somehow returning to find him idle, the thought of seizing villages in the same rush as before has been somewhat soured.
Lethys is not the only one with a change of habit. Laetes takes to roaming - or more accurately, pacing long, loping miles between the villages. He stops when his god orders him to, waiting with a distant stare and bared jaws, only to wander again, restless, when Lethys' attention is pulled elsewhere. Waiting for something, or perhaps worrying about something. Any similarities to Lethys' own behaviour is missed by both.
It is during one of these tense, explorative wanderings that Laetes' ears prick up in alarm and his head snaps around to pin his eyes firmly on the distant shape of the enemy's temple. After barely a moment's consideration, he begins a beeline - but a god is always faster than a Creature, and in top frantic form, an icy-blue streak passes overhead.
An intangible glow of belief and power does not skid to a halt, though perhaps a particularly eccentric poet might describe it that way when Lethys comes to an abrupt stop in the sky beside the Temple.
Several hundred thoughts and fears push to the front of his mind and begin to line up in order of likelihood as he simply hangs in the air and watches, laser-focused, as the gigantic Leopard gardens the Temple of Monzun.
Lethys is unable to come up with anything to say. Still, older Creatures are cleverer than to be underestimated. He manages something - eventually.
"You," he addresses her, "Creature." There is another long, cavernous pause, and the next part comes out far more uncertain. "What is your business here?"