monzun (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
monzun) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
boxfullofzeroes2025-03-17 06:58 am
monzun) wrote in boxfullofzeroes2025-03-17 06:58 am
then it becomes, it becomes, it becomes a problem, then--
Monzun watches over their people. They teach their Creature. That was all they knew and all they really wanted initially, when they were freshly-created, and perhaps it ever would have been if another god's cruelty hadn't cut in.
Their goal had never been to be the only god. It was that, and then it had been surviving to oppose Nemesis, and now he was gone, and it seemed they were the only regardless.
("Eh, screw 'em! What've other gods been but trouble for us, huh?")
("Well...It is a bit lonely. And Khazar's actions are the only reason we're around today, isn't that right?")
The power of the Creeds trickle back alongside the power of the people. And then torrents, and a flood. The Miracles they use grow stronger beyond even Wonders' assistance.
Generations of their people live and proliferate and die, and Monzun's strength doesn't waver, but increases even as the populations settle lower than the war efforts and post-war burst their levels to being.
("Yeah! We're badass! Even if it could use a lil more fireballin' to make all this peace more exciting, Boss.")
Their Creature and people are safe. They revel in being only gentle without consequence but worshippers' occasional disrespect, and they find they care little about that--unless they harm others in their village, and then Creature gentle scolding or abrupt relocation across the land tends to work nearly as well as lightning would have.
Their intervention is needed less even as they notice more. Little beacons where their people were, somewhere well beyond the seas, still worshipping where it once couldn't reach.
And something else. A shard of something.
Another...another god? Near their people? The numbers waver, some converting to the other, fewer converting to Monzun, as reasonable without them there to demonstrate their power.
They need to look.
("Could be a fresh threat we need to squash.")
("Or they may be a new god in need of a Guide?")
A fragment of them even hopes...
...
...Nemesis' brutality means their consciences say nothing while their Teleports are slowly practiced until they look something closer to a Vortex the old gods used.
It's not quite as large. Redder. But far more than a simple Teleport.
The day comes where they reach across the Lands and place it where they sense their lingering people and that god.
("Let's go!")
("It's so exciting! But we don't need to rush quite yet--")
Monzun takes some time to look over their nearest people and discuss. Khazar brought them Disciples; they could bring some possibly willing to convert to another, although they seem confused by the conversation. Do any of theirs know Miracles? Oh? Yes? One of Sable's decedents picked up the Wood Miracle, they hadn't realized that was possible--
A part of them is distant, distant, distant.
Monzun reaches for their Creature and finds they stare down into the Vortex.
Ah.
It seems their impatience was noticed and acted upon.
In another part of Eden, a Vortex opened on the side of a mountain that Monzun's old Temple still stands on. The air splits with a shocked bellow as a massive Leopard Creature steps onto nothing and tumbles down into the water.
Ouch.
Only a little ouch. It wasn't that far, but Sweetheart wasn't expecting it. She stands and shakes the water off a little--oooh, fish. Scoops up a handful of fresh fish to eat, and then turns around to claw up the mountain to peek over the edge.
There are a few people! Worshipping wrong, or maybe just frightened. That's okay. She's pretty different now. She doesn't mind when they take off running when they un-freeze.
...Most of the trees she grew are missing. She doesn't like that, she worked hard on those.
She climbs up all the way--oh, the Temple's smaller, or she's so big as to match?--and immediately gets to Miracle Watering the withered ones in the worship sites left.
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There are mortals vying for his attention distantly in a growing swell; children tugging at the skirt of their parent. He ignores them for now. It is more important that he finishes this conversation properly. Monzun thinks him confusing?
"You expect apology from me for acts waged in war - while you understand I will not afford you remorse! Who wishes who to lie?" Coldly, but suddenly acutely aware he's questioning a Creed-blessed god in their own home territory, Lethys retreats a little. "If I understood your desires we would not be speaking now."
There's a note of silence for one short moment, and Lethys relents, sounding cautious once more:
"I desire agency."
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The Leopard is a pair of shining eyes amidst the mountain's sea of far-too-large trees.
Monzun shifts agitatedly, left-right-left-right, trying to calm. There is fear and confusion at work here between them. "I am not attempting to bar you from this. I just don't want to fight any longer."
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Lethys knows they are young, relatively. Perhaps Monzun does not remember a time before Nemesis.
Silently, Lethys ebbs backwards and away from them, pensive, as night draws in.
"Were you to fight, there is little doubt you would win," he tells them, and then carefully advises: "Consider the power you wield. Maybe then we will understand each other more."
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"...I will try. And I would like to. Understand."
They hover back somewhat, hesitating. Monzun feels there should be something they should do, now, but they don't know what.
"You're welcome to visit my Lands whenever you please," they say abruptly, and leave to vanish within their Temple. As though lacking permission has stopped him just now.
Monzun does not know their own power.
Monzun doesn't know the power of a god's word alone.
As Khazar allowed their Miracles and power across his Influence, Lethys now has access to his on theirs.
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What Lethys does now see is they fit into the category of 'gods who never should have survived Nemesis'. Mercy and aspirations of peace did not carry many gods very far, let alone naïvety - but now they are here at the end of it all, and with their strength they get to set the rules going forward. And it seems they have no intention of doing so, or even making demands of their peers - at least, of Lethys. At least, so far.
As Lethys watches Monzun leave, his mind is spinning with uncertainty. This is not the problem; the problem is when inertia catches up and his mind comes to a stop, Lethys is not prepared for the conclusion it may draw.
He feels the inevitable wobble of the spinning coin when, suddenly, a circle of isolation melts away and the sudden freedom of Monzun's godly welcome lands on him. Like blood rushing back into a dead limb, his people's prayer and belief hits Lethys all at once, no longer cut off by overreaching his virtual influence.
Scarcely able to believe at first, Lethys turns curious attention to the burgeoning copse of trees by Monzun's Village. He reaches - and uproots one easily, earth tearing from its roots like wet paper. Shaken and unsure what to make of this, Lethys drifts back towards his own territory, grasping the tree tightly and staring at it as though it might burst into flames in his hand.
He is an expert at testing the thread of his influence far further than others expect. Time makes skill; necessity hones it. But this is not that. This is Monzun's permission made manifest. There is no doubt.
His shock is palpable. How could they grant him this? Why? They know him only as an enemy!
...
Mercy!
The villagers he has been ignoring are louder still. Finally Lethys shoots back across the landscape to find Laetes pacing insistently, urgently, unthinkingly, back-and-forth through the dead centre of the village in the plains. Along his path, a trail of frightened families huddling in doorways, fields trampled, and clawed-up roads.
As Laetes turns to retrace his path for the nth time, his eyes fixed on Monzun's temple and his jaws parted and slavering, Lethys catches him on a Leash and tugs.
"Enough, Laetes. What has gotten into you?" Despite this, the Creature's behaviour is not new.
...Lethys finds himself planting the stolen-not-stolen tree by his temple. He doesn't know what else to do with it; he didn't even mean to bring it back with him.
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Pausing only to feed their worshippers, Monzun settles in their Temple without reaction.
...They were going to give the god of this land a Wood Miracle. When they check on the one who can (Willow, the revived Sable's descendent), she sleeps in a corner of their Creature Cave. Mortals live swift lives, but they're fine at judging them by now; they can discuss this with her later.
They meant as they said, impulse though it was: they see no reason to bar Lethys without active danger. If he wants their trees to build, so he can have them. If he wishes to wage war, he will need to take more Land than this one, even if they leave it entirely. Even if he returns to the one he...may have came from?
Monzun made an offer there, as well. Although Lethys hadn't answered their line of questioning if that was his home, as the Land of warmth and the Guide's bones is theirs.
If it were, would it matter? He expected them to destroy it for only knowing it was there. He likely does still!
They dislike all this immensely.
But they are a god. Daunting odds and absolute confusion hasn't stopped them before.
Sweetheart wasn't upset with Lethys, Monzun's words about apology going over her head as much as the gods. The bone-itch feeling returned with talk of Nemesis, and her god isn't around to rein her in quite so close.
In the dark, she crosses boundaries of blue, shaking a few followers that don't follow Monzun from sleep, beholding her stepping over straw huts with panicked awe. Even with the eyes on her she doesn't greet them; it's been years since impressing people is something she's needed to do for more than fun, and she doesn't want to do anything like that right now.
A little way into the plains, she stops.
There was a Village here. It was Monzun's. It's nobody's, now, not even peoples' who trickled back to the green-roofed one their grandparents came from, meant to be a stopgap while they frantically reached for Lethys' last two Villages as well.
Well, almost nobody's. Sweetheart crouches and prods at the familiar-but-dilapidated ruins, and finds a surprise when from beneath the house bursts a wolf, very unhappy to have its den trifled with.
Her fur is too thick to even get a pinch at her skin when it tries to maul her finger. She lifts it curiously, considering whether toss it or not. Maybe eat it...? Predators are uncomfortably chewy, though. Fish and pigs are better.
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Lethys has no inclination currently to try to seize Monzun's territory - this would be a fool's errand - but solidifying his own is reassuring.
He flits back and forth between his Temple and the town on the mountain and the thin, straggly Village in its shadow. He fills stores, and in rare moments he seeks out Villagers who have accidentally become injured and Heals them, surreptitiously, choosing his moments when rumour will more dramatically spread. More than one body is damaged in some small way by Laetes' incessant pacing; he should try harder to stamp out that habit.
His small Miracles here and there are enough for continued faith. For a while he lingers over their homes, listening. For a while now the desire to expand and make room has been steadily climbing. For the diminished size of the Village, it's no wonder.
This Desire he ignores, and has been ignoring for a long time. The forests this side of the mountain range are in a pitiful state; what they'd use to build homes would be stolen from their fires next winter. The land needs time. (Or a Hand more inclined to stewardship. For a moment, his attention flicks to the lone, stolen tree, but he bitterly turns away.)
When his Villages desire for little, Lethys finds himself tracing his realm, taking the time to look closer than a bird's view of the Land. He probes the thin, young trees in the crook of the mountain, takes stock of the season, and of his people and their fields and the children playing and dancing.
When his attention finally lands on the trespassing Leopard, Lethys is feeling unusually quiet.
Perhaps this is why, when he sees her bothering some of his realm's wildlife, he does not immediately reach for a lightning bolt.
Lethys pins his presence directly over her head, and speaks.
"Creature. That does not belong to you."
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Sweetheart stands to better put the wolf down when she pauses and looks back up. At Lethys.
He's a god. Like Monzun's a god.
This was always clear, but this is the first time she's just been around another god without immediate attack. Monzun's used lightning before, and she saw Lethys use a Leash...
Sweetheart narrows her eyes and points at him thoughtfully with her unoccupied hand. Her nose scrunches up.
And then she carefully tosses the writhing wolf through the air in his direction.
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Either way it is unsettling that she is here. His attention lingers on the wolf she's holding, watching it struggle. He would bring Laetes. Perhaps he should. Once upon a time that may have been the more appropriate etiquette, but the winner of a fight between the two is already clear just as it is between their gods. No, better to let Laetes sulk.
(Distantly, there is a howl. Laetes is trying to engage the villagers, to mixed success. They are somewhat afraid of him, the same as they are afraid of true wild wolves. Fear without respect is... useless.)
He is considering the merits and drawbacks of frying the superior god's Creature with Lightning when she makes a sour face and chucks her prize at him.
He reacts without thinking. The wolf is snatched neatly out of the air. Lethys finds he is angry, more so than he should be.
"Insolent beast!" he snaps, holding it possessively away from her.
Lethys sets the wolf down, far more carefully than his temper might project. The animal struggles nevertheless out of his grip for the last few metres to the floor, fur standing on end and teeth flashing, to drop and roll clumsily and tear off in the direction of the poor excuse for a forest in the distance.
Lethys turns back to Sweetheart and traces a shape on the ground.
"If I ever see a normal leopard," he threatens, "I will hurl it into the sea."
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Sweetheart backs up a little, twitching lightly when her foot snaps through an empty once-workshop.
The sea...she's still hungry. And thirsty, too. Lethys can try to push her into the sea all he wants! She twists around and lopes towards the nearest coast.
...She's never seen another leopard. She hasn't been a Leopard forever, body orange and striped before. A Tiger. She hasn't seen those, either. Only little lions, once. Maybe there are some of those around here?
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Occasionally mortal men have one advantage over their gods. Being able to glare scornfully at each other is a merit Lethys would like to borrow in this instance. Instead, Sweetheart is treated to a short, irritable silence before Lethys speeds off after the wolf, a trail of disdainful purplish-blue following behind.
He is not the sentimental type, but some things one does because it is just... the way of things. Lethys hovers low over the still-fleeing wolf and drops the warm glow of a Heal onto its body. He lingers only long enough to be sure any injuries are gone, whether from a clumsy Leopard's paws or from its own attempts to escape or from the last tumble to the ground. Then without any wasted time he turns and hunts down Sweetheart, wherever she may have gotten to.
Humans spin each other tales of places where certain beasts of the earth are stronger, bigger, wilder, healthier, more formidable: as if by the Land itself, or as though the very tracks they leave lay claim to the place... and other such nonsense. There had been many tales like those, once, and Lethys had seen no shame in encouraging them, in playing along. Not the case here. Beasts are few, now. The land is not as healthy as it was. Certainly Lethys' forests cannot support such large predators. Hence the makeshift den.
But old habits, and all. There is still the way of things.
Where has that gigantic Leopard gotten to, now? He was only away for a moment.
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...There seemed to be no fish, she thought. There aren't the handfuls of schools, but something significantly larger, out in the deep.
Hmm.
The Leopard shuffles out until deep enough to nearly reach her waist, and plucks it up.
The thing bites her.
The world shakes as she shrieks.
As it turns out, sharks have a bigger bite than wolves. Her blood spills, but she just barely manages not to drop it, just swings it around until it's held by the tail. Ouch ow ow!
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He hasn't quite tired of looking for her when the sound of an impossibly powerful yowl echoes across the landscape.
Lethys is very familiar with that exact sound. The glow of his symbol appears a little too close at first, almost within shark-flail distance, and he backs up quickly.
...It is difficult to tell, and likely the Leopard would be entirely unable to pick up on this. But for a brief moment, a feeling similar to smugness passes through Lethys.
"Let that teach you a lesson about mishandling wildlife," he says, not much caring if she's listening. He doesn't care what lesson she learned from that. But it does feel karmic.
In the crowded square of the mountain Village, Laetes' ears prick up. He loses interest in his task of showing himself off to the people, and rises from a crouch to immediately begin loping in the direction of the sound.
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...
...
...
Her shoulders slump. What she was aiming for...failed.
But it ate up enough time that she can start to hear something beyond the rocky cliffs, heading over. There's only one being big enough to make such big footsteps here: Laetes!
Which reminds her again, ow ow ow. She snaps the shark into her mouth tail first (and makes a face, it crunches wrong) before sweeping a more minor Heal onto her poor hurting hand.
Regardless of her lack of Gesture, with the continued boost of Monzun's Wonder, Laetes, the wolves of the area, the nearest people and quite a few lingering wild horses are healed as well.
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He snaps back to paying attention to her when half the nearby landscape gleams.
More displays of strength. Lethys is growing used to them, as he did with Nemesis. At least so far they have consisted of... harmless things. He would rather this than thundering bolts from the sky.
"Laetes," he warns, as the wolf strides up to the edge of the shore.
Laetes obediently stops, though it's clear Lethys' tone is the only thing keeping him still.
Laetes was not injured. But he knows that flood of warmth, and he knows where it came from. He stares intently at Sweetheart. And paces, just a little, back and forth along the shore, watching.
"Maybe I should call your master to keep you Leashed," Lethys muses, half to the Leopard and half to himself. "What is it you want, I wonder?"
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She's feeling better than when she started wandering, less unhappy, less hungry--she can start messing with him now, but how...?
Sweetheart wades back nearly to shore, stopping when the sea laps around her shins. Her thumb rubs along where the shark bit. It's not the same hand where the wolf tried to get her.
Laetes is a wolf. He might bite her if she tried to pick him up. But he's too big, that would just be silly.
...
Sweetheart keeps looking at him, jaw canting to the side.
Shuffling forward a little more, she carefully reaches up to try patting him on the head the way she like how Monzun does it. Except more tense. She's going to get bit. She wants to try anyway!
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He scowls, anyway, and goes rigidly still as Sweetheart closes the distance. Lethys does not make sense, telling him to leave their borders unwatched, telling him to dismiss the presence of this Creature in their Land.
Closer.
She touches him. He is trembling. Not with fear, but with restraint. This is the Creature he hates, should hate, is supposed to hate; a Creature from whom he defended their realm, the Creature he spent a countless era torturing - he learned malice from torturing this Creature, from fighting her, his restless patrols leading up to vicious fights, he anticipated her and her master even during her absence and now she is back and his task is singleminded -
The Leopard will get in two pats to Laetes' head before his restraint snaps and his head lunges forty-five degrees sideways and fastens teeth around her wrist like a metal trap, a growl rumbling from his chest.
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She knows how to fight, but more than anything, even beyond Monzun highly encouraging gentleness, warring against Ichor when cursed to be stunted and fragile taught her how to respond without attack directly.
Her other paw sweeps up to hover above his head in a motion like pouring water from a bottle, and glittering Holy Flies cascade down.
A small sense of Creature-concern-danger has Monzun finally shaken from distraction. They rise from their Temple and focus on where their Creature is apparently in trouble--oh, Sweetheart, they haven't been paying enough attention! They streak over (and streak swears in their thoughts) so fast they appear nearly without warning, Leash snapping to her. "What are you doing," they ask her exasperatedly, and after a long moment, "Lethys, greetings."
They survey the area and both Creatures. Did she destroy anything of his around here? Was she recently aflame?
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...And no one's fault but Laetes' for the ensuing trickle of buzzing and itching that ensues.
This smugness fades somewhat when Monzun's symbol appears in the sky. Lethys is very quick to give context, though he does not return the greeting.
"Your Creature has been interfering in my territory," he accuses.
A faint, high whine emanates from somewhere very quietly. It rises in volume until it becomes clear it's coming from Laetes, head still sideways and latched firmly around Sweetheart's wrist. He twitches and tugs once, twice, then abruptly lets go and immediately resorts to plopping down on his haunches and scratching insistently at his neck and ears with a hind leg.
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"Apologies. I was preoccupied." By trying to think of things to do with him. Saying so would be absolutely foolish, so they visibly drift to look at where their Creatures are in a tug-of-war over a limb.
It looks as though there hasn't been too much of a fight as of yet, and Sweetheart, outraged as she appears, has little damage after the wolf releases her. They still indulgently give her a Heal (as far-reaching as her own had been only minutes prior).
They rise to level with Lethys. "My Creature--"
"Creature game."
Godspeak rolls across the world, clumsily as thrown pebbles.
They rotate to look down.
Sweetheart stares back up, paws slapping on her thighs.
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Lethys is perhaps less surprised than Monzun. But they seem surprised. He guesses this must be novel to them.
He affords them a moment or two of processing this new information, and then acknowledges it himself.
"She did not learn that from us." In case they were wondering.
Laetes eyes her wildly - out of the corner of his eye, as best he can manage, still fervently biting and scratching at himself. He achieves some interesting levels of contortion attempting this, and barks snappily in complaint. He doesn't want a game. Why is he the only one taking this seriously?
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It appears they should have.
Monzun wobbles a little in acknowledgement of Lethys' statement.
They are swept up in pride and melancholy both. How long has it been since they were in awe of the Guide teaching the eager Creature and God novices? Monzun had nearly forgotten how badly they hoped their own Good Girl would learn the capability to communicate the same, eventually. To speak with them, and him. And today only they remain.
...The matter of the subject should be addressed, shouldn't it?
Sweetheart is tugged sideways. Her claws leave reluctant furrows into the sand. "This is not the place for games," they tell her.
A pause. Not indulging their Sweetheart doesn't occur to them, after all her loyalty and hard work.
They observe the other scratching Creature. Lethys may be allowed to share their resources, but the Wolf is wild enough they'd rather he keep from wandering too deeply near their Villages.
A spark of ancient resentment rises. "Perhaps near the old Yogi's Temple, some time," Monzun suggests to all. They haven't checked to see if he's kept himself alive. They don't care.
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Thus the silence stretches between them, until the back of Lethys' mind nudges him that the last thing Monzun said sounded a bit like a prompt, and how he is one of only two here that might respond to such a thing.
They were talking to him.
Lethys quickly re-runs the conversation and struggles to understand.
"What suggestion are you making," he says, tone flat with suspicion.
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Sweetheart's jaw works, though her voice didn't come from there. A small rumble escapes. She can't explain! She doesn't have enough words yet.
A claw rises to start a swirl of a Gesture, carving red in the air, but she cuts it before it can form anything, and her hand and head both droop in frustrated disappointment.
"Whatever it is," Monzun offers peaceably to Lethys, "it can be done away from any Villages of mine and territory of yours."
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"We are no match for you in a show of strength," he points out. "But we will rise to any challenge you set."
Laetes has pulled himself up to his feet and begun backing away and scrabbling at himself with an angry scoff. He saw Sweetheart gesturing, and it spooked him.
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