Log:Fear and Loathing in Truth or Consequences

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Fear and Loathing in Truth or Consequences
Characters  •   Osiris  •  Bik  •  Ouroboras  •  Diamond Devil  •  The Unicorn  •  Manticore  •  Urania  •  Fenrir  •  Hodr  •
Location  •  Egyptian Camp
Date  •  2019-04-15
Summary  •  A simple conversation about options for transformation and choices becomes horror and chaos and the monsters reveal themselves.

Since the night of the Wedding, a ring of clover like plants with yellow flowers has sprung up around Kemen's trailer: too fast to be quite natural, but not fast enough to count as one of Kemen's miracles. It is late. Kemen has only recently parked his car after a night excursion and is just setting a pot of tea to steep by the fire. he is dressed in his most comfortable tunic and his face is wrapped against prying eyes.

Maybe Oh was out there with him - regardless, the World Serpent is sitting there now, though he does not partake of the tea. He has a cup of water instead. His tent is a fairly small leather thing, set up in the corner. No worshipers need to be accommodated for Oh, and he is not good with money, regardless. He has his feet stretched _very_ close to the flame.

The flickering pool of light cast by the flames causes the shadows beyond to appear that much darker by comparison. So dark, in fact, that it's impossible to know exactly when Bik showed up. His eyes glint a bit, reflecting some of the red firelight's glow, as he watches from out in the dark, but he never ventures close enough to even be illuminated by the friendly light... In all the time that Bik has traveled with the carnival, he has never been seen close to a campfire. He isn't breaking that tradition tonight! Nope. Just watching.

Kemen spots the visitor and smiles, "It seems we have a guest, and a fortuitous one." He rises and moves a camp chair over near the new arrival, "Might we get you anything? You are just the man we were hoping to talk to."

Well, it might be difficult if you happen to be flammable by nature! Ouroboras is more the opposite - the creature was once a dragon and some of that fiery nature remains. Which is why he is so dopey and sleepy once it gets cold. One golden eye cracks open, and the serpent pops his head up and breathes in, turning his head towards Bik. He focuses primarily through scent "Hello! I am Ouroboras, the Alchemist!"

A wary look is cast Kemen's way on the approach, but Bik does not retreat. His attention flickers toward Ouroboras for a flash, and he tugs his cap at the serpent. "Alchemy's a neat trick, I hear." To Kemen, he just tilts his head a bit, somehow more reserved here in the dark. "Talk to me about what, I wonder?"

Kemen sets his chair down just out of arm's reach of Bik's leg, to show he does not intend to grab, and angles it so he can look at them both as they talk, "My friend here is very old, Bik, and he was many places, including Japan. He thinks there is a chance he might be able to remember with you."

"Not a trick. The essence of truth," says the World Serpent "In Japanese, the study of the godai." He yawns and prods an ember with a toe, and then he lifts his sleepy head up and gives an equally sleepy smile "They have a different name for me there! As friend Kemen says, I am very old. Almost all people and places have names for me, but hardly anyone remembers me now, so it's easy for me to forget things. If I have someone to talk to, I often remember more, about what things happened in _that_ place. My gift is insight."

Bik glances sharply between Kemen and the creature, then out into the dark with an unreadable, deeply contemplative expression. He fidgets, picking absent-mindedly at the side of his thumb. "That was another lifetime ago," he finally says, quietly. "/My/ mortals were..." He frowns faintly, seeking the right words, before he continues. "They were not Japanese. They were Englishmen, enchanted by half-understood stories of Japan. I am no more truly Japanese than Hollywood is truly Ishtar."

Kemen listens, expression kind, "You haven't many left, have you. I am worried about you, and am not sure how to help, beyond trying to figure out enough of who you were so we can figure out how to help you transform in a way that will help you attract new mortals and survive. It might be that understanding where you came from could help with that."

"What do you want to be?" asks Ouroboras of Bik "My mortals were...lots of different things. Hermes Tristigamous of Egypt. Other people. A group in California that got themselves killed four years ago by manufacturing explosives. I have been Jorgmundr. And many other things. I think, for creatures like you and I, who have been. Blended and forgotten, that now is the chance to decide - when there are few believers left, as Kemen is guessing...I think things are mutable. We control our own fortunes, we work on ourselves, to select our true natures. What would Bik _like_ to be?"

Bik glances sharply to Kemen, then back down again, still picking at that thumb. "What I would /like/ to be..." he muses, staring into the distant fire and causing it to once again reflect there in his gaze. "If I could be anything, I think... I would like to shake free of the chains of American superstition. I wish /not/ to be a joke, but I do not wish to be the frightening monster that lurks in the night." He starts slowly, but soon warms to his subject. "I wish to /know/. Everything. And I wish to look over them. /Protect/ them. Nourish them. And... And..." He fumbles for a moment, then glances down and away again, out into the darkness. "It doesn't matter. I can't change, not really. So long as they are afraid of the dark, and for as long as they need to eat, I will never /entirely/ disappear. Not as long as I stay Bik."

Kemen flashes the World Snake a smile, "That is exactly what I was aimng at, yes. You have flexibility and now is a good time to reinvent yourself on your own terms and gather mortals who will... suppor that version of yourself." He studies Bik, listening with that empathetic expression, "A guardian who uses information to protect.... Newspapers and newspaper reporters. Journalists use information to protect people do they not? Like that man who did the expose of the meat industry. He snuck around, gathering information and used the publicizing of those secrets to change laws and save lives. Would you still be Bik if you did something like that? Not for these new gods who would enslave us, but for yourself and for the mortals?""

Bik inexplicably produces a long piece of straw from the spot he's been worrying at. It seemed like a hangnail until suddenly it wasn't. He looks at the piece of straw, nonplussed, then just starts fidgeting with it instead. "That all sounds very... aggressive," he points out, without lifting his eyes from what he's doing. "I'm not some sort of information warrior. I wouldn't begin to know how to make mortals /want/ to know things. I just know how to answer their questions, when they do bother to ask them."

Kemen rubs his forehead by worming his fingers between layers of scarf, then goes to pour himself some tea while he things. Once he is settled, he sighs, "It is a shame Radio is the enemy because otherwise you could be a voice in the dark advis---Wait! How about the Agony Aunts? The people write in for advise and someone helps them work out what to do? Would that work?"

Bik blinks and looks up from the piece of straw he'd been toying with. He looks a bit stunned, all things considered, but starts chewing thoughtfully on the end of the straw as he considers it. "I think... Maybe... I might be okay with that." He still looks a bit wary, and soon he's voicing his concern. "What if I lose too much of myself in the transition? Would it still be /me/? Or just some new-created god with fragmented fractions of my memories?"

Kemen says quietly, "When I was very young, the Great Atum was a serpent, but in time he became an enemy to serpents and he himself became an aspect of the sun, but he was still Atum. The trick is to find the things about you that are most important and hold fast to those. Gathering knowledge and helping people is an important part of your purpose, correct? I think if you hold fast to that it will help, and straw to newspaper is at least two things of a kind and not opposites. I think you would want to be careful and keep control of the change as much as you can, but I think you could stay you, the way I stayed me despite having been a bull and a God with both male and female parts and tangled with Dionysius for centuries. The Mortals often change very quickly by our standards, but stay themselves. They change their hair and get new jobs. They travel to other countries. The have experiences that can change them so much that the person they were a decade ago might not recognize the person they are now, but they are still themselves, just one changed by time and experience."

Diamanto approaches the camp hauling a burlap sack on her shoulder. She's a strong woman, broad in the shoulders, and she bears the burden without complaint. She's in a simple cotton dress, and her dark curls are pulled back in a braid. Even though she's not performing at the moment, her beard is coifed daintily. It's important for a lady to be presentable. "Kemen," she says, and she comes up to him. From the burlap bag comes the unmistakable scent of fresh, raw meat. "Is your lady about? I brought her something for the cats." She gives Bik a nod of greeting.

Bik nods a little, but his brow is still furrowed with that vague worry. "Even if I lost control of it, it might be for the best," he remarks, reluctantly. "A thing like me might come and go, but no one will ever convince the mortals to stop being curious altogether." It's said rather fondly, but with a touch of weariness as he adds, "Not that I'm eager to become another object. Newspapers don't even have /hands/--" He breaks off at that, looking up at Diamanto's approach.

Kemen is sipping tea in a camp chair near Bik who is in shadow, well away from the flame. Oh has fallen asleep very close to the fire. "But you would be Be Bik, the Agony Uncle, and you could be stuffed with newspapers as easily as with straw, could you not?" He looks up sharply t Bik's reaction, then waves to Dia, "She is not, but should be back shortly, I think. There is tea steeped near the fire if you'd like some. I take it you had a fine hunt? Is your husband in better sorts?"

"He's sober," Diamanto says. "Or he was when I last saw him." She wipes her brow and puts her hands on her hips. "It was a good hunt. It's nice to get out and stretch my legs." She looks to Bik. "Is he telling you to become a newspaper? Or stuff yourself with newspaper? That's not a bad idea. I mean there's got to be plenty of newspaper left over affter they've already been read, and we can't afford to be wasting materials around here."

Bik gives both Diamanto and Kemen an odd look. "That's not how it works. /I/ didn't invent straw-stuffed men in fields. The humans did. It's a-- whatsit." Lips press together, until he recalls the correct term. "Archetype." He rolls his wheels backward a bit, sinking farther into the dark. "But I will think on all of this."

Kemen nods, "I am glad to here it. I think this is a good place for a lot of us.... Tomorrow night there will be a party here after Ritual. There will be plenty of good drink if you are interested." He nods, "So I suppose the straw may be essential. Anyway, I wish you a good night." He deliberately turns his back and moves his chair close to the fire, on the suspicion that Bik would rather not be seen leaving.

Diamanto watches Bik backing away into the darkness. Then she looks to Kemen. "So should I be saving newspapers or what?" Alas, while she may be fierce and, in her way, lovely? She isn't the sharpest tool in the shed. She watches Bik a little longer, then turns her attention to Kemen. "Should I just give the meat to the cats or does your lady have a regimen?"

The soft sound of a cat leaping from trailer roof to roof to railing sounds. A moment later, from different shadows, trots a large Caracal with golden eyes that gleam. She trills happily and that short tail waves as she trots over to Kemen. Then moving to place her front paws in his lap and rub her face against his.

Indeed, for as long as Diamanto is staring at him, Bik continues to watch her with a bland expression of his own. He's too far away for even the reflection of firelight to glint off his eyes, but when Dia finally looks away, Bik takes his leave in his usual mysterious fashion.

Kemen smiles gently, "You should not, though the offer is kind. The Ouroboras and I were just trying to help him find a way to reinvent himself for the 21st century without damaging his essence. I do not know if he will go the suggested route, but we have at least given him a few ideas to mull.... I fear I have very little knowledge of when they are fed and what.... Oh! Here is the Queen herself." He scritches her ears and rubs faces with the caracal. "The Lady of Blood and milk has brought us meat, Lovely."

Leona turns her gaze from Kemen to Diamanto and those whiskers come forward in a feline smile. "Ah! A welcome gift from a most glorious woman. My thanks, and that of my children. It is a time of kittens and the more there is, the better off they shall be," She says, her voice in this form carrying that characteristic trill of the Caracal. Then she lifts her voice in a loud call and from shadows and trailers comes the swarm. And a goodly two dozen young kittens following half a dozen mamas or so. Many approach Diamanto with caution, but their noses are twitching at the smell of meat.

Diamanto perks up as she sees the caracal. At her feet is a burlap sack full of paper-wrapped meat that has been roughly butchered, enough so that its source isn't readily discernible. As the kittens emerge, she starts pulling out packages of meat and unwrapping them. She only does a couple, since there's a lot of meat and cats are small. She tears it as best she can with her hands and nails to lay out strips. Kneeling, so as not to loom so much over the felines, she says, "Here, little ones, come feast. It's very fresh."

Kemen calls, "Would a knife help, and may I offer you any refreshment?"

Leona turns and moves over to give Diamanto a nuzzle, if willing, as well. A purr in her throat as she helps tear open the meat. She herself takes sharp claws and teeth to some, shredding it easily for the smaller cats. "Mmmm...a good hunt?" She asks after licking her whiskers. A moment and the golden glow flows over her. Form shifts and flows and where Caracal was sitting in now Leona. Licking a bit of blood from her finger with a smile. "Indeed. In fact, I need beer," And she rises smoothly to her feet. As if the earth itself had simply lifted her there. Striding to the supply tent she is gone only a moment before returning with a keg and three mugs in one hand.

Diamanto gives the caracal a scritch behind the ears and nuzzles back. "Your lady has helped," she calls back to Kemen, "but I'll take refreshment. Thank you." Then, to Leona, she says, "He hit Georgia. She split his lip, and I split his skull." She gazes down at the feasting cats and their sweet kittens. "Georgia is all right. Better, now that she's been avenged."

ROLL Kemen rolls Spirit-1 for: [3]: x2 (Pair) [6]: x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 3 3 6 -- d8)

Kemen says, “Beer or tea, Diamanto? I offer you hospitality by my fire." Kemen has been having a pretty good day when it comes to his dismemberment issues, he simply becomes very busy with the tea pot and tries very, very hard not to think about the pork being of the long variety. "I am sorry Georgia was troubled. Ouroboras and I were speaking earlier about the way women are treated in these decadent times....Dia have you thought bout taking up feminism? I mean, if you really decide to transform yourself?" He gazes into the fire, "I was always in part a spirit of a place, even if it was a very large one. I have been... having difficulty imagining what I could become that wouldn't involve slicing off a large portion of who I am."”

"What's feminism?" Diamanto says. She ties off the top of her burlap sack so the meat within is at least somewhat protected from curious kitties, and she comes to sit by the fire. "Since you're making tea, I'll have some." To Leona, she adds, "The whole bag is yours. I figure your bigger children will enjoy the bones." She gazes into the fire. "I can't imagine what I would be, that these new humans would embrace, anyway."

Leona pours for Diamanto first and then Kemen and herself. "Ah, a just end indeed!" She says cheerfully as she sets the keg down and then proceeds to perch in Kemen's lap. Taking a long drink of her beer she seems to drift into thought, lips thinning at Kemen's comments. "You do represent so much...we all do in some way. But change is not something we hide from either...you...resurrection was always yours first," She says just when the silence might start to get uncomfortable. "For myself...the Dream we all shared. That fake sun...it was...beautiful..." And she gulps the rest of her beer. For a brief second looking most uncomfortable.

Kemen says, “Feminism? It is the championing of the rights of women. Property rights, civil rights. Decent treatment at work and in the home. Safety from violence. Protection under the law. Equal education. a Right to Self Determination. you could be a Goddess who protects and promotes the welfare of women, by any means necessary." He pours a mug for Diamanto, "Would you like honey with that?

He curls an arm around Leona's waist, and says sadly, "All my best tricks are the Christian God's now too, except the growing of crops." He recoils slightly, letting her go and nearly spilling his tea.”

Leona sits in Kemen's lap with a slight frown on her face. Well...she was anyway. Now she is startled and there is a blur of gold as she is spilled onto the ground. Landing as a large red Abyssinian who stares at Kemen in surprise. Then she sits and begins to groom herself. "I didn't think you would react quite like -that-," She says dryly, tail tip twitching back and forth rapidly.

It's not Colorado's pale-skinned, golden-haired man's shape that comes slipping through the forest of trailers and tents. It's the unicorn, black as the night, bearing the long, long horn on his brow. The inner fire glimmering in his horn and hooves is all that is readily visible of him as he pauses just at the edge of darkness. He nickers, to announce his presence. "Howdy."

"It was confusing," Diamanto tells Leona. Not far from where she sits is a burlap sack filled with something that smells very much like fresh meat. There are cats and kittens chewing on some meat not far away. She nods to Kemen's offer of honey. "I suppose if you found it beautiful, it must be dangerous." She then considers Kemen for a moment. "I think we should arm women with knives. All the women, give them knives. Then if someone tries to steal their rights, they should cut them up." She makes a slashing gesture with one hand. Then, without losing a beat, she smiles amiably at Colorado. "Hello."

Kemen gazes at Leona as if the world is already unraveling. Carefully, he unwinds the scarf from his head, trusting the late hour to save him from prying eyes that had best not see his face. "I love you. I... think I can understand this. It's just... it is hard to see my permanent unmaking as beautiful, no matter how much I have been trying to accept it." He closes leaf like eyelids, "I do not want our world to end."

Leona lets out a sigh and leaps back into Kemen's lap. Paws on his chest to nuzzle at his cheek. "I found it beautiful before I knew it was the end of us. That part I do -not- care for. And will fight until all have made their choice," She says in an apologetic voice. As Colorado trots up she turns her golden eyes upon him and chirps a hello, tail waving in lieu of her hand from the moment.

Colorado blows out in a horse like greeting to Leona and Diamanto. "How y'all doing." His ears swivel forward--he can hear the pain and sorrow in Kemen's heart, like a grieving song. Pacing over to him, he dips his head to Leona respectfully, then presses the velvet of his nose to Kemen's cheek. "Your pain cries out," he murmurs.

A drowsy looking Nils appears at the edge of camp. Blink and you'd miss the long haired half Asian. He sorta of peers into the camp, turns and leaves, returning with Holden in tow. Shirtless with blue jeans, boots, mussed hair and his staff in hand. Nils, still angry from Holden's drunken antics, sort of shoves Holden towards Diamanto and walks off. Holden just follows his nose from there. "Where'd you go?" He mutters, tiredly.

Done with his performance for the night, Sebastianus drifts through the camp, mug of fragrant tea in hand, his hair damp from a post-work washing. He's in his black tunic and gray linen pants and black and gold slippers, and meandering with a distracted expression. He wanders into the Egyptian's camp before he realizes where he is, stops, and blinks. "Evening," he murmurs, raising his tea in a salute, and has a sip. It's spicy and sweet, with the smell of milk and honey to it.

"I hunted well tonight," Diamanto says in response to Colorado. Indeed, not far from where she sits is a burlap bag full of something that smells like fresh meat, and there are cats and kittens eating shredded bits of meat nearby. When Diamanto's attention is drawn to Holden, she gets to her feet and guides him to her chair, trying to sit him down so she can occupy his lap. "Georgia's john hit her," she says. "I took care of it." She strokes back his hair and kisses his forehead.

Kemen is very still and sad. Still he strokes her back, "I can not fault you your nature, Lovely. You always were the terrible, Devouring one, ans well as the Great Lady of the House of Life." He reaches up a hand to scritch the Unicorn between the ears, nuzzling him back. "Star of night, I fear I am running out of hands and our camp is full of raw meat." Tonight he smells of melilot, fig leaves, pomegranate, barley, and fresh tilled loam. He turns his eyes to Sebastianus, "You are always welcome here. There is..." he gestures at the burlap bag, "Meat if you would like it." Can a green God be green about the gills? That looks like a touch of chartreuse. "Be welcomed, Holden. There is tea." He does not offer the tea. Benim filled him in when he woke.

Leona is in feline form. Specifically that of a red-furred Abyssinian. Currently perched in Kemen's lap and rubbing against him with affection. Colorado's own muzzle is given a head butt as she curls in against Kemen and thrums a deep purr. "I was Destroyer by Fire before I was a giver of life," It is said softly and with a feline sigh. "And beer," She adds after licking Kemen's cheek. "I'm sorry I brought you sorrow, my love."

It takes a moment or more for Holden to fully awaken. He just wraps his arms around Dia and nods a little. "Taken care of? Good. You should have said something." He mutters, nuzzling into her neck. "Why are people sad?"

The campsite is set up as a rough horse shoe with the prop trailer and the big cat trailer set up behind Leona's trailer as a sort of enclosure fo the cats with fencing in the gaps. Kemen's people sleep in a large tent always pitched next to Kemen's trailer, with Oh's small tent on the other side of it. Kemen's trailer is next to Leona's far more ostentatious one which is striped like a white tiger's hide. Kemen's trailer itself is a good one, purchased at the time of the crash. A line of potted plants have been set out along the exterior of the trailer as well, a mix of the North American and the North African. A ring of clover like plants with yellow flowers has sprung up around Kemen's trailer, growing up around and in front of the containers. By the door is a large wooden tub of white lotuses in various stages of growth. Various domestic cats prowl about and there is a lingering scent of big cats and the iron tang of blood, though none are in evidence. The campsite smells of wood smoke and spiced meat mingled with the herb garden, mint, and night blooming flowers.

Sebastianus glances at the sack, shakes his head. "Thank you, but I've fed recently, I won't need to for some days yet. And thank you for welcoming me to your camp." He dips his head, moves towards Colorado, reaches out to stroke one long ear. A sharp, sideways glance for Diamanto's comment about Georgia's customer, but she's dealt with it, so he relaxes.

"Sad?" He frowns at Holden, gives Kemen a more scrutinizing look. "Is it about the message from Management? Or has something else happened?"

Diamanto snuggles up close to Holden, sighing softly in contentment as he nuzzles her neck. "Leona said the false sun in the dream was beautiful, and that made Kemen sad, but she said that was before she knew what it represented." She rests her forhead against Holden's. "I'm sorry you woke up alone, love. I was just bringing the meat by for the cats. You know I can never eat a whole kill." She's still full of newlywed bliss, perched on Holden's lap like a lily fair maiden in love. Not far from her is a burlap bag that smells strongly of meat. Which is exactly what it contains, roughly butchered and wrapped in paper. She gives Sebastianus a nod of greeting, not to mention silent confirmation that, yeah, it's been handled.

Leona's tail flirts at Sebastianus at his question. "I...said something disturbing. The dream...I found beauty in that destruction. And in some ways...the utter destruction reminds me so much of what I was sent by my father to do," She explains to the late arrivals, whiskers drooping slightly. Absently she begins to kneed Kemen's legs, mostly keeping her claws in.

The unicorn lips at Leona's ear tufties. Hey, we're all animals here. "No need to take your hands off the Queen, handsome," he says softly to Kemen. "Just comin' to say hi." He rubs his delicate muzzle on Kemen's nose. His ear flicks as Sebastianus strokes it, and he nudges him in the chest, affectionately. "Howdy there. Sure do smell like blood and meat here, don't it? And...what are these?" The unicorn's attention is drawn by the yellow flowers ringing the trailer. He drops his head, takes one in his mouth, then bites it off and chews. Munch.

The Scholar may not need to feed again so soon but there is a sound familiar only to those who know the fair's darkest natures. The sound of chains. Large, thick, broken chains sliding along the ground, being drug by larger, thicker and furrier legs. First it is the two sibling wolves of larger than average size who circle a bit and dip their heads to those within the camp. From the other side of the half circled wagons the drag of chains changes with an eerily quiet and simple snap of bones and tear of flesh as if someone were wringing a person out. Then there's Brok. Chains broken, upon his wrists and ankles as if he'd just recently torn his way free from a chain gang.

There is a strange interaction between one of his pups and the cats, that they seem ambivalent towards one another. The wolf curling up facing away. Strange still is the other wolf that keeps trying to engage any cat that will give it attention in games and playing, and pretty consistently getting swatted at. Brok seems a touch out of place here, the Nordic Fenrir, and as his eyes scan the crowd, perhaps looking for a man with the head of a canine, a cat walks upon his shoulders, purring. He, of course, bares his fangs even in this passing-for-human form and growls quietly and dangerously.

Which the kitten seems not to notice as it kneads at the back of his head.

There's something to be said for escaping a cult, even if it is one's own. Perhaps that's why Urania appears at the fringes without her typical retinue of lost souls and lunatics. She might be easy to miss, however, as the far more imposing form of Brok looms near. In her hands, a small basket with a few more of the sheets copied by hand by Mae, a few bottles of wine, and one of mead. "Morning draws near," the muse murmurs quietly, "and I thought I might inquire after how everyone's doing." As the bearer of bad news, she clearly also feels obligated to be the bearer of decent liquor.

It's only fair. She's more placid than perhaps she should be when she turns her head, glancing to the wolf, to say, "Your father spent the last few days as a cat, I'll have you know." Just as an aside. Not as an attempt to stir trouble in any way, no. Not her. Never.

Kemen's scarf has been disguarded as has his tea mug. His face and hands are the green of young barley, and he is far to beautiful to really be human in any case. He strokes the cat gently, "I know. It is all right. In some ways you were made to destroy the cities of men. I just... needed a little time to calm down." He keeps stroking the unicorn's mane, his neck. "I have been trying to think of ways people could transform themselves and keep their essences. I am doing rather better for others than for myself, as in a way I have already been... mostly superseded, and Leona surprised me. I will be fine. I promise." He kisses the Unicorn's nose before the unicorn pulls away, "Did you have a good evening, sweet?"

he takes a deep breathe, "While I am waiting for more advise from the Oracle here, I have made my decision about the general outlines of my way of proceeding. I plan to continue to try to organize people to help each other transform themselves, and to make the acts more apt to reinforce the ideas. I will try to help with organizing the lecture series. I also plan to try to resist the coming unraveling in any way I can given my limitations. I will support people with whatever they chose, but I will not be persuaded to turn my Godhead over to another or surrender it entirely to become mortal. If I die forever, I die as myself, but I plan to not go easily. Nor will I abandon any of us whatever kind or species."

When the unicorn ask about the yellow flowers, a mossy blush begins to spread. When he eats some, it reaches his ears and is a rich forest green about the cheeks. "They are called melilot or sweet clover and they...are associated with me." His eyes go wide at the appearance of the stranger, but he still has manners, "They call me Kemen. No cats here are for eating. Welcome an you mean no harm.... Uh, do any of you know him?"

Holden is still rubbing the sleep from his eyes and is slow to speak. The latter may have more to do with him listening to the others. His expression is thoughtful. "The dream, to me, was the end. Ragnarok. The word means, one way to put it, the twilight of the Gods. I think about that a lot and wonder. But, Baldr isn't dead." He is still in newlywed bliss himself, holding his bride like a prize. "But, I could see it. The false sun. That...makes me think of Ragnarok. Being whole again."

Leona's head whips around at the smell and sound of wolf. Leaving off her kneeding she turns to watch the pups with those intense golden eyes. Blazing like miniature suns even at night. Most of the cats are fairly tolerant, but the mothers are fierce and growling as they drag meat off to feed their kittens. The toms? Well, they bop a pup on a nose if it gets too close, then return to their eating.

"Hello Starlit One, be welcome to our fire. Ah...and you as well Wolfkin?" There is a query in those words as her nose sniffs the air. "Would you like some beer?" Her long, red tail points at the keg sitting next to her. As Colorado munches on the clover she gives a rumbling loud purr and cat-shitter. Equivalent to a laugh. "Oh me, oh my. They represent fertility even in harsh conditions."

Her golden gaze turns to Urania now and she says, "I am...troubled by the dream. The burning heat and fury of it is...taunting me." She gives her fur and ruffle before nuzzling Kemen's hand. Her eyes flick to Holden and her tail flickers back and forth.

"Ah," Sebastianus says, and nods. He plants a kiss on the birdge of Colorado's face, reaches out to run a hand along Leona, from head to tail. "I can understand. My Dashiel asked me to describe it no less than four times. He hopes to discern where it's taking place, though I don't know that our dreams are detailed enough to tell us that." He shrugs, not terribly concerned. It's not his nature to be concerned over far future, apocalyptic events. He gives Kemen a sympathetic look just the same. "I'm sorry, I'm sure for," his eyes flick to Colorado, munching the plants, "numerous of us, the dream was very painful."

He sips from his tea, considering Kemen as he speaks. He tilts his head, frowning. "So you don't intend to...transmute yourself? Move forward in some new way?" He gives Holden a sidelong look, and his mouth flattens. "Are you sure the Ragnarok will be for you, and not your counterparts in the Old World?" He arches an eyebrow at Brok's arrival, nods a greeting.

Brok is frowning deeply as he stands there, not quite willing to move for what might pass for concern at potentially crushing the more and more numerous common felines starting to circle him, rubbing against his legs and sitting on his boots. "I know. I cannot get his scent off me. It is one of his games."

There's a jangling as one particular cat starts batting at the end of one of his chains. He huffs out a fast sigh and asks, still looking down and around at his feet as he tries to take loping steps, slow and careful to not cause harm, his chains now an eager item of chase. "Is my cousin the Jackal here? Also... hello." He finally looks up and takes in the Unicorn visually. Then states rather simply, "I smelt meat." Then he blinks slowly and looks between Kemen and Urania, "What unraveling?"

His garb may be comparably simple, a leather vest over a white town shirt, long work jeans and well worn cowboy boots. His tattoos are another matter, though mostly hidden it is clear his arms are covered. Where his shirt draws tight in his movements, the lack of an undershirt offers peeks at elaborate and large tattoo across his torso. Not to the level of Urania's followers, some of them, but kin in similarity. About his forearms are a very unique, silvery set of tattoos; a cat, a bearded woman, a mountain, a fish, a bear, a bird. Those close to magic can feel it powerful there. He seems abnormally large even in this form meant to mix into the public. As if he doesn't quite fathom the size difference that creates common humanity. Though, someone says a word that causes the large man to calm a bit even as he finds a seat at his gracious hosts and hostesses guidances. He looks to Holden, "Cousin... You have seen the false sun?" It sounds almost accusatory.

"It was confusing to me," Diamanto says. "And disconcerting." She toys with Holden's hair, curling a lock around her finger. Then she lifts it to her lips, planting a soft kiss there. "Kemen said I should learn Feminism. I think we should arm all the women." See? She's solved feminism, guys. She looks up at Brok, then tells him, "There's meat." She nods to the burlap sack. "Someone hit my girl. Mind, he's wrapped in paper." She rests her head on Holden's shoulder and murmurs to him, "I'm more in love with you tonight than I was the night before."

The unicorn raises his head, a long stem of yellow flowers hanging in a graceful arc from his mouth. His tasseled tail swishes around. He chews slow. "Associated with you? Mmm. Delicious." Can a unicorn flirt with a man? Seems to be happening.

He pricks his ears, hearing the awful sounds coming from the darkness. They make him stamp, once, nervous. When Urania appears he nickers to her, and when Brok appears...he looks at him silently, both ears hard forward, all his lean muscles tense. Then the cat bats at Brok's chain. The unicorn relaxes with a snort.

Urania's smile warms as she hears the Queen's greeting, and she bows her head with spark of genuine cheer, even if the rumblings of concern are not at all lost on her regarding the dream. "In truth?" she begins as she picks her way toward a spot to perch, after setting the basket in easy reach of the others, "It was a sight, wasn't it?" Her head cants, and her typical dreamy-eyed stare gains a rare measure of focus. "I venture that feeling, that sense of awe and terror, is what they have long felt in our presence. We have long been their grand and expansive spectacle of beauty, horror, and wonder."

"It is a striking thing. A marvel," she says with certainty. "There is no shame in noting as much. It's... true." They're just collectively accustomed to being on the other side of that arrangement. "The roles are oft reversed; I can think of no better example to demonstrate what it is we are up against."

"Pardon?" Holden says, his clouded eyes dart back and forth. A Tell, in a way, of thought. Of doubt. Dia's loving words ease the crease in his brow for a moment, at least. "I'm more in love with you now than when I feel asleep." He steals a kiss and the furrow returns. "I stand by...by the notion that a pantheon's afterlife their own. And I am not convinced that there /is/ some other version of me. And if there was than he's killed Baldr because this is as close to the end. And that's how it begins." He pauses and frowns. "But, none of those ideas come together and make much sense. So I suppose I do not know and simply hang onto faith."

"He is quite," Leona can't help but quip to the Unicorn. Perhaps trying to ease his nerves. She certainly seems to be relaxing even though she watches Brok thoughtfully. "I was made as the most vicious and savage thing they could imagine," Everyone knows who that 'they' is. Mortal people. "Which means I know just how total and destructive it is. No mortal should have that kind of power. Even -I- could not control myself and had to be sated...what does that mean for them?"

Brok's sour disposition at his state of scratching post, which doesn't seem to cause him any harm at all, drifts a bit away at Diamanto's words. He even, briefly, grins faintly and nods to her, "I give thanks to you, cousin in law, kinfolk. Though I am the camp dog. If you need an unbeliever torn. I can tear them for you." He's already leaning over for the bag, a long arm reaching to snag it with claw like fingernails before dragging it quickly to him. Always hungry, Fenrir. Always ready to eat." He looks up at the unicorn and raises a brow, frozen for a solid second. Then his eyes travel the flanks of the other beast even as Brok starts to bite into the long pork so kindly given. He shrugs, frowns in thought, and hums in a 'meh' manner.

"I do not mean to say that the Egyptians cannot carve their own meat. Merely that you are gods. You are goddesses. You should be worshiped." It's true, the harbinger of Ragnarok is rare to this camp, very rare, and often when of use he is in a far more recognizable form as a dog, running about with Jackal most times.

Urania's further explanation of the dream and the sun seem to be somewhat new to him and he explains with hand motions, a bit of human flesh falling off whatever he's gripping in one hand, "Set that sun before me and I will eat it. Problem solved."

He is clearly concerned as his cousin Holden keeps speaking, watching him as the Wolf eats." He scoffs, though, finally showing a smile, when Leona speaks of being the most vicious and savage thing they could imagine. "They dit not imagine my mother!"

Brok adds as an afterthought, a brow up, "They did not imagine me."

Kemen can not look at the unicorn or the cat just now, so he gazes up at Sebastianus instead. "Tomorrow night would be a particularly good night for the particular seeds you and I discussed. The fruit would be doubly blessed." His fingers expertly scritch her ruff though. "Yes. That and... other, similar things." Except he looks up at the Unicorns voice, and makes a soft sound in the back of his throat at the sight of the flower sticking out of the unicorn's mouth. Embarrassment? Humor? Both? "Just leave enough of the flowers for me to weave a crown." He lowers his lashes, "Otherwise, you are welcome to as much of my sweet clover as you like." That man is definitely flirting with that unicorn.

he reaches for his tea again, sipping it, "I do not think resistance and transformation are mutually exclusive. I've transformed before at need. If I can find a way to do it on my own terms I will, just as if empathy, thought, organization, and conversation can stop the coming disaster much as Enki did when he helped Ishtar and Innana then that I will do. I am useless with a sword or gun. I can not fight that way. I do not see why I can't work towards both in my way. If I fail, I fail, but either way, I will be true to my nature."

"I have not seen my second son since before I came to this country. If you see him, give him my love and tell him where to find me. We do not eat Trade or anyone in this camp with a name. The Unicorn is both. The false sun is what we speak of. The Unraveling." He gives Urania a crooked smile, "You are wise, and I suspect correct." He bends to kiss the top of the cat's head, "Let us see if there is a way to keep them from power they are not able to control." He does not watch Brok eat. That way lies... not good things. "I do not know your name stranger."

Sebastianus makes a low sound in his chest. "Indeed," he says, nodding to Urania. "They hunger, always, for what they don't have, don't know. The things kept from them tempt them the most. Always. That which is easily within reach is never so sweet as that which is denied." A soft sigh, as he was born of that very hunger. "I love them for it, even as it spells my doom."

He waggles a finger at Brok. "Now now. You know that's Skoll's feast, not yours. You get to eat Odin." He frowns a moment, nods. That sounds right. He shrugs at Holden, says, "That's perfectly reasonable as well."

Reaching down to stroke Kemen's hair, he nods, expression solemn. "I understand. And if I can help you find a way to transform, of course I will. I fully intend to. Our other choices..." His gaze goes distant. "I've feasted on them for a lifetime. To become one of them would, I think, be a hypocrisy. And, while I fault no one for choosing to work with Management to stave off the false sun, I won't go that route. My beloveds would insist on coming with me, and that would see them all dead. I owe them long lives and a line of children bearing their memories, not deaths at the hands of their own society's advances." He shakes his head.

Leona snorts in amusement at Brok and those golden eyes close slightly. "Mmmm...perhaps," She says, drawing out that 'R' even as her tail lashes. With a parting nuzzle she leaps down from Kemen's lap and golden light wraps around her. Warm as sunlight though not nearly as bright. It grows and once again she is in her human form. Bending she picks up her empty mug and refills it from the keg. "I will fight to give everyone the time to find their path, but especially to help my Pharaoh and companion," She leans down to kiss to top of his head now. Before downing most of the mug of beer.

"The truth?" the muse asks as she looks to Leona, watching with a smile as she takes on her human shape. Her eyes are unnerving at night, too full of the stars. Her brows loft in unison, "The world as it is, as we have always known it, was never meant to bear such a thing. For longer than I can remember -- and I am incapable of forgetting -- I have known the wheels of the world, of creation, and learned the workings of the great machine."

Urania's expression falls, and her eyes lower. "They will break it with this. It was never meant to bear this." She looks smaller for simply having said it. The oldest and youngest muse looks it, and in the worst combination of ways.

Brok wipes a bit of blood and sinew from his cheek onto a forearm and tells Kemen, "I am the Wolf." As if there were one, just one, and he were it. He bites into what might be a thigh and chews in deep thought as the cats tend away from his eating area. His eyes on Sebastianus now, alert and listening intently. "Why is that your doom?" He grins, "Skoll." In a rather dismissive manner, though the promise of Odin seems to offer a strange distraction to the young man. Vague pain and anger and confusion on the topic.

He swallows, going for the mead that Urania brought if he's able, with an accusatory glance to one particular cat as he sniffs at the air. "I am here called Brok?" His answer is half question to Kemen as if seeing if that helps at all. "I do..." He waves a bloodied hand about vaguely at the fair proper, "Security. I am Fenrir Lokisson."

His blue eyes track Leona's snort of amusement and he smiles in amusement as well. "I would fight along side you. If it comes to that. Though let the fight come to us, if so." He shifts with vague discomfort and has already clearly eaten more than a human stomach can hold and seems to keep maintaining a rhythmic flow to his feasting.

Then he watches Urania, without even the briefest moment of understanding or recognition. His eyes flick to her basket, "I will carry it." He reaches out his clean hand.

The unicorn shivers his flanks when Brok eyes him. "You'd have to catch me first, son of Loki." He blinks his enormous, long-lashed eyes at him in mock placidity, chewing on the stem of flowers. Nothing but peace and acceptance here. Oh, and a very long, very sharp horn. That too.

His ears flick forward and back, listening to the others discuss their possible fates. "I don't know what I could do," he says, and sighs, and drops his head to nose among the flowers. "Nothin' makes any sense anymore."

Diamanto closes her eyes as she curls up with Holden. "It's already consuming us," she murmurs. "It's all anyone thinks about anymore, or talks about." Yes, the end of the world is bumming Diamanto out. "So much thinking, not enough doing." She lifts her head and looks around at everyone, and instead of irritation, her features are wrought with sorrow.

All the Norse Religion things fly right over the head of Osiris, Lord of Ma'at, who knows little more than that thing Loki did to Holden and his brother, the World Serpent, and that Holden thinks it's the Twilight of the Gods coming. He leans into Sebastianus' touch, closing his eyes and looking delighted as a cat being scritched. "Lord of Art and Lamentations, if there is ought I can do to help you, I will. You know that, right?" He reaches up to stroke Leona's hair, "I never doubted it." He smiles a little sadly, "Welcome then, Wolf of the North, Fenrir Lokisson. I am Osiris, once Lord of the Living and still the Foremost of westerners, or what remains of him." He sighs, "Humans love unicorns. It baffles me that they won't... but then it all baffles me lately." His expression softens, "Lady of Blood and Milk, what would you like to discuss?"

"You are under my eye and protection, dear Curls," Leona purrs to Colorado as she slowly approaches him. Reaching up to stroke that spot on the center of that black horse chest. The one that is usually in need of a good scratch. Turning to look at Brok again she calls out. But it isn't in English. It is all cat. The remaining felines snag the remaining meat. One big top snags an unopened pack that had fallen beneath the chair before he does.

Diamanto's comment draws her attention and her toothy grin has no joy in it. "Oh I completely agree. I would like to do something, to fight something. But apparently the best way to do that is to transform...or perhaps Management can give us a better idea of what 'really' fighting is?" She glances at Urania with a quirked brow.

Brok smiles a little at the unicorn, "I do like the chase. Have you a wife?" Not... exactly perhaps the question that would follow from a hungry wolf eyeing potential 'prey'. He shrugs to the unicorn though, in emotional support, it seems. Though the snarl in his voice and blood on his lips shows he might not have read the one book regarding how to make friends. "You can already shape shift... what is the problem? They said that is the cure for the ill." He motions vaguely to Kemen and Sebastianus.

He watches Diamanto speak with furrowed brow, silent. "What is everyone not doing while talking about? I have not been away from the fair since the wedding." Then he adds with a working of his jaw, "Nor before it."$r $rHe dips his head to Osiris, "I did nod bring proper offering for so noble a host. I followed the scent and found friendship and family I did not now I had." He chuffs a bit and the two wolves with him perk up, "Go, find tribute. We sit amongst kings and queens. Rulers and gods." The immediately run away with fluid strength. He seems almost angry as he watches Osiris, "What baffles you, great king?" He looks to the Unicorn and back again, "I will find your unicorn worshipers." Then he seems to almost doubt himself as he asks them both, "Must they be virgins?" His features forming a slightly hopeful brow with a slightly disappointed sneer.

Then he eyes Leona and the Unicorn, "Eh... you do!" He nods with a faint spread of his hands as if offering something but he doesn't say what. Before he can explain, her words have him in a short fit of raucous laughter. "You wish to see how to fight!?"

Holden shakes his head. "Lokisson." Said like a curse. While Holden doesn't acknowledge Loki, Fenrir get a pass. Until Loki's name comes up. And then he's all gritting anger but he lets it subside as his wife laments. "It's not all I think about or talk about. I think about you. I think about Baldr. I talk about you. A lot. Ask my Children." He groans a little. "I'm due penance. They will surprise me." He sighs and then hugs his bride. "I think more about the penance than anything right now." He pauses to listen quietly, then adds. "Feeding us bit by bit is to keep us from being overwhelmed. Or, consumed with what we can't yet do."

"The world has always needed a Big Bad Wolf for its stories," the muse murmurs as she glances sidelong to the giant wolf. Her expression remains placid enough, as she hands over the canteen of mead and, then, the basket entire. "And, I daresay, unicorns, as stated." Her chin tips to Kemen, and the smile begins to renew. "They have always looked to the stars for answers, for inspiration. They do so for additional reasons, now, but I suspect I can work with that."

"It's new," is the only explanation Urania can offer Diamanto. "I knew there was once the potential for such a thing to arise, but was arrogant enough to imagine I'd averted that course." A sigh tumbles from her lips, and she slowly shakes her head. "Management was quite insistent that they will manage it eventually. That I may have forestalled it by a few years, but not forever." And that is what plagues her, weighs her shoulders down into the slump she's worn for the past few days. "They will continue to push and push, with no mind to what the world can hold."

As the name Loki arises, she simply falls silent. After a sigh. Because of course there is a sigh.

Sebastianus drinks from his tea, smiles down at Kemen. "I have no doubt you will. And if I need your aid, I'll ask for it, and in turn give mine." He considers Colorado, now his mug of tea. "You've said before you could heal all the pain of the Dust Bowl with a simple hoof print at the height of your power, yes? If their belief in you were enough, you could do that now. Only it's not. Their belief is in other things, in themselves. And right now, you heal them by clearing the way, yes? In effect, enabling them to heal themselves. Perhaps you simply must further that aspect of yourself. Steer their belief in themselves at something which needs healing, and show them how to do it under their own power." He bites his lip, retracing what he's said, nods. "I've no idea how that might work, of course. But it's something to consider."

He grins first at Diamanto, then down at Kemen. "That's just it, she wishes to do, not talk." A snort of amusement for Brok, and a glance at Colorado. Ah, Sebastianus' favorite topic, unicorns and virginity!

"I want to know what to do and do it," Diamanto says, nodding to Sebastianus. "But if we're going to talk, tell us about your ritual tomorrow, Kemen." Then she fiercely kisses Holden, sudden and adoring. Then she tells him, "Loki was a cat, and I pet him, but when he turned back into himself, I wanted to slap him. I don't think I can help petting cats, but when he's himself, I'm thinking of slapping him. Just..." She makes a slapping motion. "Like that."

ROLL Brok rolls spirit + 1 for: [1]: x1 [2]: x1 [5]: x2 (Pair) [8]: x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 2 5 8 5 1 -- d8)

The unicorn flips the tip of his tail around, amused at the question from Brok. "Why? You proposin'?" He munches up the rest of the flower stem. Yellow pollen dusts his nose. "Ahhh, they used to love me," he goes on, tone growing melancholy. "They used to plead with me to show myself to them, to heal them, cleanse their streams and bless their forests. They used to hunt me, thinking my horn and flesh the most precious of precious things. No more, now." He stretches his neck to rest his chin on Sebastianus' shoulder and breathe flowers on him. Then he says to Leona, with fond respect, "So I am, Your Majesty. And my thanks for it."

Brok reaches for more meat and finds none and inhales deeply, staring ahead in defeat as a few cats start licking his bloodied hand clean for the tasty juices. "I still do not know..." Brok stops. He might be choking a little, his lips tight as he stares ahead hard, brows furrowing more and more as the cats keep licking his fingertips.

He coughs hard and then grunts as he refocuses, "What are we nodt talking about?" Then he interjects to Diamanto, "Slap him! He is weakest at the throat." He seems /eager/ to educate anyone and everyone on how to harm his father. "A little lower than that... right at the throat!" He spreads his thumb and forefinger with his fingers together and hand going flat, then taps his throat with the in between, taut skin of his hand, nodding.

Then he gives Diamanto a very serious thumbs up and another nod.

He drinks deep of his mead and nods to the Unicorn, "Yes." Very casually. Said to the Unicorn and to Leona. Whom he then offers the mead. "Your camp is near?"

Leona turns to look at Diamanto with an annoyed wrinkle of her nose. "He did what?" Yep, annoyed. "Damn that man. I've told him not to portray my subjects!" The rest of the mug of beer is downed and then she fills it again. "I'll be right back," She growls, bending to kiss Kemen fiercely. Then turns her smile on Colorado, "No one messes with us." Then she whirls to stalk off and try to find a trickster. She may or may not succeed. And she may or may not take his son's advice for how to attack.

Brok says, “(to Leona in disbelief) You told /Loki/ NOT to do a thing?”

Kemen says, “No gift is needed, though such is welcomed in the spirit it is given.... Purity and virginity are very different things. Shape shifting isn't enough, it is transformation of... What was the word Bik used? never mind. We need to bend our purpose to suit the world that comes after your Ragnarok, or stop it from coming. What is really needed is some clear enemy to strike to prevent us all unraveling." he dips his head to Urania, "That is good you have a direction." He smiles up at Sebastianus, "That is really clever."

He bobs his head to Diamanto, "It is really a celebration of the Spring Resurrection for those who believe in the old religion, but Sebastianus expressed an interest, and it occurred to me that the celebration afterwards might be good for us generally. They will say the old prayers and plant their seeds in my coffin and new life and blessings will spring forth. Death, resurrection, life, the great circle." He opens his hands, "I am no longer strong enough to heal the dust, but life goes on and I do what I can." he reaches out gentle fingers to stroke the unicorn's withers. he doesn't seem at all distressed by the talk of Loki slapping. Then he is laughing warm as afternoon sun on fields of wheat as Leona stalks off.”

"I threatened to bite his tail off if I caught him at it!" Leona calls back from the darkness.

Sebastianus makes a low, soothing sound, rubs Colorado's head. "That's why I think you must direct their new beliefs instead. You gives, not take. So give them this, now, which in a way you already do--guidance." He leans his head against the unicorn's.

"I'll be sure to bring whatever seeds my beloveds and I have found," he assures Kemen. "And if you have other things I should bring, tell me what they might be, and I shall."

He grunts at the tale of Loki's latest escapade, sighs as the mighty queen goes to teach him a lesson. Ah well. One day, she'll catch him, and then what? Alas, poor Loki.

Holden grumbles but admits, "I will never tell you not to pet a cat, divine. I know how you feel about them. Loki, like most of the tricksters are relentless and cowardly. They never stop torturing you and once revealed, flee. But, they will come back to make you miserable again. I am just waiting for my uncle to ruin my life again. It's only a matter of time." He pauses and shakes his head. "Once, I ruled over the cold and darkness. Not useful to much of anyone now. I had to make my own niche."

Brok laughs at the departing feline-queen's call from the darkness but quiets and listens to Kemen intently. Taking periodic, but quiet, drinks from his mead. He nods to Kemen and seems to hazard a guess, "If it is Ragnarok you are worried about, just do nodt break my chains." He shrugs a bit idly but seems slightly eager to offer an answer to what seems to be stressing the gods and goddesses out.

Then his two children come back. Cubs he calls them. Three and a half feet at the shoulders. Both are dragging burlap bags freshly covered in dirt and Brok gets up to take them both. He goes to Osiris, bowing his head and going to his knee, "Gods are to be worshiped, King." Then he dumps out both sacks. Wallets. Watches. Jewelry of gold. There are leather bags bulging with silver trinkets, though tightly bound shut. An incredible amount of coins and gold teeth.

He stands and keeps his eyes down a few moments longer, showing what seems to him to be great respect to Osiris, before stepping back and relaxing again amongst the camp's circle. He watches Holden, though, quietly.

And his jaws work tightly, his eyes deadening and losing all emotion. But he does add, in almost a whisper, "I still praise the cold and the darkness. It serves my children well."

For someone known to keep company with the trickster of the moment often enough, Urania seems uncommonly comfortable. It seems she's well aware that he digs his own grave over and again, even if he keeps proving he has more than nine lives' worth of crawling back out of it. Urania remains uncharacteristically quiet, all the same, lapsing into thought as she tilts her head toward the sky.

The unicorn can't laugh in his true form, but his tail whips around in a silky billow. "Well," he says to Brok, a smile in his voice, "maybe sometime you come around when you ain't just bathed in some fella's blood. Then I can disabuse you of all them virginity notions. That's something Mother Church came up with, not me." He luxuriates in the attention from Sebastianus and Kemen, nodding. "You're wise as always, both of you," he murmurs. "Maybe the ritual tomorrow will show me the way." ...and then snorts in surprise as Brok just busts out with a sack of treasure. "Goodness gracious me, what have you done."

Diamanto nuzzles Holden's temple. "I'll slap him for you, darling." She gives him a small kiss and adds, "The cold and darkness has its place. I love the darkness, and the cold gives me a reason to curl closer to you." She gives Brok a nod when he says he still praises the cold and darkness. Then her gaze flits to the watches and whatnot, and her eyes widen. "I need to start hunting richer johnnies," she says in quiet awe.

Brok seems to struggle to regain some semblance of commonality as he watches his UNCLE'S blind eyes, then he looks to the Unicorn but cannot bring back the same emotion from before, he nods, however. Seeming about to say something but not. However, then the Unicorn speaks of the treasure and Brok motions to it, "I kill so many idiot humans who refuse to worship or do not bow, who cause trouble in our territory. I always bury their riches with the largest of them dead to guard it in Valhalla. I may have bit Odin once already and I may bite him again but I still wish to feast with my family. And I wish t'be rich when I do it."

He looks around vaguely and says, "I cannot get to them while I live but... by this point there must be hundreds..." He then looks suspicious for a moment, which breaks him from his dead eyed stare, "None of which you will fine."

He nods to Diamanto when she speaks to Holden and shrugs faintly as he looks at the treasure. He, himself, seems well along the poor side of things.

Kemen keeps stroking what he can reach of the Unicorn, "Food for the feast after is welcome. There will be food for you already, but I do not know what you and you beloveds like best. I think Seb is right though. Giving is your nature as it is mine. Perhaps that is the way to save yourself without changing too far." his lashes lower and he murmurs, "And I will need help getting out of my vestments...."

He eyes Holden, "You know what you obvious weak spot is now? I do. I think you should both be very careful, you and Dia. A good cold wet wind from the North at the right time can help sometimes, and most plants need a time of rest." He sighs, "Brok, I fear the humans may soon find a way to break the chains without any knowledge that that is what they are doing....Oh!" He stares a little wide eyed at all the things piled in front of him, "You really didn't need to..." He takes a deep breath, and makes a gesture of blessing, "Thank you, Fenrir Lokisson, for your generous gift. It is accepted in the spirit in which it is given and may you and your people be prosperous and your hordes be untouched." He looks up at Sebastianus pleading for some sort of advice or clarity with his eyes.

"I usually just eat it all," Sebastianus comments off-handedly, smiling at the sight of the riches. "It never occurred to me I could be...pawning it, or selling it, perhaps..." He sighs for lost opportunities. And who was he kidding, he has no idea how to do such a thing, didn't want to burden his followers with additional things to oversee.

"Mmmm, yes, Colorado will show you how virginal he is," he assures Brok with a toothy smile. "Pure as the driven snow, I promise you." He strokes the unicorn's cheek, somehow managing to make an otherwise innocuous gesture look far too lascivious. He slides a look to Kemen. "Will you now."

A grin for Diamanto and a bob of his eyebrows, as he was thinking much the same. "We've been sleeping on the job, my dear," he says.

It takes a moment for the muse's attention to settle back to earth once more. "The people who have chosen to follow me," she notes, "do so because of my intervention in their lives." Intervention and giving are not always the same thing, but she doesn't clarify, leaving only that as a contribution to that aspect of the conversation. "I couldn't say how they regard it. People are no less fickle than we are; some are grateful for what they're given, others not. Others still will resent the first for being given, even if the same is given to them."

"There is no sure and certain way. Only things we can try."

Her nose wrinkles delicately. "Virgins are depressing." She seems to approve heartily of the unicorn not being one.

Comments on winter and darkness bring a brightness to Holden's vaguely grim features. "Thank you, Fen. I do not believe that the sins of the father are the son's to bear." The talk of a weak spot does make Holden angry, grumbling low and grinding his teeth. "My wife is my strength. I dare anyone to use her against me." He holds her close, more protectively. "She is a monster in her own right. I am a blind god of nothing." He grousing ends abruptly when he speaks to the muse. "They are. Baldr the Pure? Imagine centuries of living with that?"

The unicorn's nostrils flare as he sniffs at the pile of gold and treasure. He doesn't seem to know what to make of it any more than Kemen does. "Well, that certainly is something," he says, in the tone of a Southern gentleman who feels compelled to remark politely. He turns his ears towards Urania and wickers. "So too with me and mine. I healed them. Well, not Excellent. She's the exception to many things. She didn't need healing, only a star to follow." He twitches the skin of his shoulders in some kind of animal communication. "The whole business of virginity is mishegoss."

There is a moment when Brok seems a little confused by the talk of the Unicorn's purity and also their prowess but he raises a brow but he nods to his Uncle a few times. "Were that such were true." He seems to be referring to the sins of a father. "You heard their cries when they cursed me. Could you see, then? When they cut me, uncle? Because of how I did grow. Because of who my father is?" His jaws setting in again and he but he looks away and finishes the mead, looking to the Muse for more, and nodding at her approval of the unicorn, but then sighing out and speaking finally.

"Fear." Fenrir states plainly after having listened to everything. "It is always the only thing humans understand. They are animals. You can smell the stink of their terror like a lambs. Faith..." He looks around at the gods, the goddesses. "Faith makes them fearless. So first, we give them something to fear. Then you give them faith to steal the fear away." He then looks to those who speak of the humans' ignorant destruction. "If they knowingly or unknowingly unchain me... I give you my oath that I will give all of this world something to fear."

Diamanto strokes Holden's hair and hugs him closer as he holds her. "You're the god of darkness and winter, and you are the forgiver of your Children, and you give them a place to be, and meaning to their lives. You are also sometimes the god of moodiness, but we love you." She kisses his forehead tenderly. "I offer my girls freedom. They need feel no shame for their sexuality. They rely on no man to define them. When they met me, they were hungry for a place they could be the gorgeous, wild creatures that they are." She smiles softly and with pride.

The humor in Urania's eyes, fleeting and fickle as it is, fades to nothing. The light that typically shimmers around her, visible only to her fellow wonders, dims visibly as she shrinks into the folds of her shawl, a fringed silk thing embroidered with roses, all black, as though the night itself wished to swallow her up. She's able to manage a smile for the unicorn, and the chuckle that accompanies it causes a glimmer of light to prick the air around her.

Without protest, she offers another of the canteens to Brok. A moment more, and she takes one of the smaller flasks of wine for herself, but for now, she continues to say nothing, and that pensive unease spills over her features as she uncaps the flask, sipping, looking anxiously at the sky.

Kemen sets his empty cup down and very tentatively strokes the back of Sebastianus hand with the tips of his long green fingers. He flashes the Man-Manticore a wicked smile, "The wrappings nearly immobilize me. I am very nearly helpless." he shrugs in response to Urania, "My people were not overly concerned with virginity. We were too fond of love in all it's forms." He cocks his head, "I had heard Baldr was celibate. Can you explain the why of it?" He murmurs, "And you are a star worth following...."

He looks at Fenrir with eyes that carry the weight of nearly six millennia, "I loved them and they loved me longer and better than many who have come since. Fear is not my way and I can not nor will I change enough to be so. I have changed much nd lost so very much, but to change to a terror to humans is to undo myself. Better to die as I am."

"Diamanto, you asked me earlier what feminism was. That thing you said just now? That freedom you spoke of? That is it's essence.

The unicorn's ears turn towards Urania. He nuzzles the men he's twined up with, then steps softly towards her, his pearly-bronze hooves silent, his head low. He comes to her and looks at her, his eyes huge and dark. Not any specific color, but dark as the deepest shadowed pool in a forest. The unicorn doesn't speak, only offering his presence as a creature of the primordial dawn.

"A total waste," Sebastianus says to Holden, tone dry. "Someone should help him with that." He looks thoughtful, shrugs. There are plenty of candidates who could, one will surely talk him into it sooner or later.

"Mine all found me," the manticore says. His eyes stray to the fire and he watches it dance. "One way, or another." He smiles at those memories, turns his attention back to the topic at hand. "That's the problem," he says to Brok. The destruction they seek will destroy us when it is learned, not in and of itself. The simple act of their knowledge will undo us. A small irony for me, considering."

He arches an eyebrow at Kemen. "I suspect you're not nearly so helpless as you claim, Dominus Silentio." He reaches out and taps Kemen on his nose with one long fingernail.

Brok snarls, not at Kemen but at the conversation, really. "Love is fickle. Fleeting. Those you hope to love you may not. But all will fear you if done right. Fear is consistent. It is always the same." It seems Holden is not the /only/ moody Nord. Brok's shoulders rise and fall with deep determined breaths. "But you are right to offer love... to those who I can offer fear. They will flock to you in those times."

The hairs on the backs of all necks rise, ears twitch back. The cats go silent, some rowwrring. Everything and everyone tenses. The fears that haunt you rise up. Not just of this devourer of gods sitting in a camp of kittens. But of humanity, of unraveling, of giving up on who you are and becoming what you hate. Of looking a human in the eye and finally, one day, just being ignored.

"This world has forgotten what to be afraid of. They fear dust and famine, paper declaring ownerships. They will fear war again... war greater than the last... and they will know hatred. And they will eat one another."

Brok's voice does not rise in volume... but most everything seems to quiet to make him sound louder. Flashes of war fill the minds of those around. Cats start breaking into brawls. The urge to find revenge on those that have wronged you and yours and those you love most... cackles, they do rise. Memories of war, perhaps the most.

"And they will feast on famine and the pain of murder. Of loss. They will hate and fear... and in those times, those darkest times they will remember that they have nothing to fear but fear. They will find out..." He whispers now, "And find faith again."

ROLL Kemen rolls Spirit-1 for: [6]: x1 [7]: x1 [8]: x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 8 6 7 -- d8)

ROLL Diamanto rolls spirit+1 for: [1]: x3 (Set) [2]: x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 4 (Raw: 2 2 1 1 1 -- d6)

ROLL Colorado rolls spirit for: [2]: x1 [3]: x1 [4]: x1 [5]: x1 -- Match Value: 0 (Raw: 5 3 2 4 -- d6)

ROLL Sebastianus rolls spirit+1 for: [2]: x2 (Pair) [5]: x2 (Pair) [8]: x1 -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 2 8 5 5 2 -- d8)

ROLL Urania rolls spirit+1 for: [3]: x1 [5]: x2 (Pair) [6]: x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 6 6 5 5 3 -- d6)

ROLL Holden rolls spirit for: [2]: x2 (Pair) [4]: x1 [5]: x1 -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 2 4 2 5 -- d8)

Dia always knows how to perk Holden up. He's smiling soon and when asked about his twin, he laughs. "Baldr and I are superstitious. He remains chaste because he fears he will lose his powers. His invulnerability, namely. Then, he will die. I am of similar mind. How hard would it to be for me to just possess my followers and live life as a sighted person? Not very. But each hour I suffer in darkness, my brother lives in light. You can't convince us otherwise." Holden is all smiles until Fenrir lashed out. Now he's angry. His grip tightens on Dia with one hand. His other? To his belt, his blade. "Dia, give my shoulder a shove, please?"

ROLL Kemen rolls Finesse+1 for: [1]: x1 [2]: x2 (Pair) [6]: x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 2 (Raw: 1 6 2 2 6 -- d6)

ROLL Holden rolls finesse for: [1]: x3 (Set) [2]: x1 -- Match Value: 3 (Raw: 1 2 1 1 -- d6)

Fear swells. The unicorn's finely-shaped head jerks up high, his eyes suddenly showing white. He whirls to blindly defend Urania, horn pointed, and squeals a stallion's challenge. Hooves paw up gouts of earth. Where's the enemy? Where's his enemy! ...there isn't one?! Only this mass of fear making all his terror billow into being like mushrooms. He loses all his nerve and bolts, ears pinned flat, racing away in a streak of bronze.

Diamanto says, "Leona's going to be mad if you upset her cats." Whatever it is she fears, it's not enough to ruffle her feathers. Then Colorado bolts, and Diamanto shakes her head. Brok's gonna get in trouble. She gives Holden's shoulder a shove as he asks. She knows she should be trying to shut this down, but, well. Murder nymph.

Kemen grins up at Sebastianus and winks when he's booped, but then Fenrir's aura hits him. His eyes go wide as if he is staring into some personal unbearable torment. He begins gasping as if he believes he is suffocating. "Nonononono!" his voice gradually rises into a shriek, "Not again! Not again!" He leaps to his feet, screaming in horror and remembered pain. Being suffocated is bad enough, but no one ever forgets a really good dismembering. he looks around wildly for his brother, but not seeing him starts to turn.... Then the unicorn is bolting past him and with a grace that echoes Dionysius' in the ring, he vaults on, and lies flat, arms around Colorado's neck and weeps his panic into his mane.

Sebastianus' attention, all charming smile and soft murmurs, snaps to Brok as that happens. He makes a weird sort of choked growling sound as Kemen and Colorado flee, eyes wide and teeth set. His form swirls and bleeds as he drops his human shape for his true one. His mane swirls around him, a furious black cloud with a slash of white; the shimmer of his illuminations flickers wildly like lightning over his dusky violet body and dark indigo wings. The choked growling sound is now a deep, heavy snarl, a furious rumbling of timpani drums and low brass.

His words start low, like a symphony approaching a dangerous crescendo. "I have consumed those who brought me into being for centuries. Slain my own creators, devoured them, body and mind. Feasted on the flesh of my makers, those whom others would call god." His voice like this couldn't be more different than his hoarse, whispering human shape. He lashes his tail, a flash of blue black in the night. "Tell me, fen-dweller, monster of the Van, wolf of glory: what, do you presume, to teach me, of, fear."

The muse's smile returns, even if her unease lingers. It nags at her like a sense of spiderwebs falling from the air, even if she can't put words to it. The unicorn's presence, drawing nearer, comforts her by a fraction -- until the fear starts to take root. She feels it welling in her chest, causing her heart to begin hammering at her ribs like a startled bird beating its wings against the bars of its cage. Even if she's able to quell it, she knows too well of what the wolf speaks to voice any argument against the certainty of wars to come.

Then there is a unicorn springing to her defense, which is one of those things that a girl simply does not forget, even if she's lived a thousand lifetimes and wasn't the daughter of Mnemosyne. She's scrambling to her feet in the instant before the bringer of dawn begins to charge, and she just stares. Stares. Cat stares at them all, slack-jawed. Her head whips around to aim a look at Brok that reeks of 'irritated stepmother', no matter how desperately she tries to avoid that look. Never mind that she doesn't look old enough to drink.

Her eyes flick toward the firmament once again, and she whispers, "Give me strength," before collapsing back into her shawl and pulling it right over her head to peer out from under. There's a lecture brewing under there, clearly.

The fear from his fellow trade is enough to push Holden that extra little bit and he throws his dagger with his trademark, assisted perfection. What did he say about throat slaps? How about a throat shank because that is exactly where it ends up. Holden's old, runed, storied blade buries deep into Brok's neck. Oh, it misses anything vital. It'll bleed. It'll hurt. It won't kill. This time. Holden, as family should, follows with a short lecture. "You watch yourself around Trade with your nonsense, Fenrir. There is always something bigger, stronger, and scarier than you will ever dream." As Seb is demonstrating. "Dia, when that blade comes back to me. It's yours, divine. And your girls are welcome to Nils' collection. Seems like we need it." He pauses a beat. "STOP embarrassing the Norse! It's hard enough around here!"

ROLL Urania rolls spirit + 1 for: [1]: x1 [2]: x1 [4]: x1 [6]: x2 (Pair) -- Match Value: 1 (Raw: 2 6 4 1 6 -- d6)

From the large tent where the Mortal household sleeps comes scream and a loud bellowing and the sound of canvass ripping. Chaos spreads outward.

Brok is late to the reactions... he doesn't seem to see them coming. His children whimpering and slinking back already as the greater beings start to rise up or flee. He is caught with the dagger in the throat hard and he snears blood, going to growl, or speak, but nothing comes out except for thick dark blood. He does not die, though, true. He does grip the blade. His fangs flashing in the night light.

Brok slowly pulls the blade free from his throat even as it seems to start healing, not incredibly rapidly however. His voice is hoarse as he starts growing. And growing. "This /is/ fear. This /IS/ love. How many times will my uncles bleed me, chain me, fight me!" Then when he sees the other fearsome beast he grins, truly. And gnashes his teeth.

Then the stuff of nightmares happens.

Bones shatter and flesh stretches as Brok's mouth expands more and more till the massive snout of a wolf protrudes from it. Then his flesh, giant as it is, rips apart and sloughs off of the wagon sized wolf that now seems to have the entire U shaped area cornered.

And still. He grows.

Till the light colored, silvery hued fur at his ankles starts to shimmer and to shine, start to smoke and to smolder. For a moment, Fenrir pushes through the uncanny pain, growing and growing past the size of a house in the black of Holden's night. Then he staggers, his ankles shining brightly as he goes to a knee and starts to shrink back to a more manageable size rapidly.

Oh, that's it. That is simply it. The muse has had enough, and for all of her tiny fury, she explodes with light from every pinpoint of her freckles as she erupts to her feet, throwing off the shawl. "ENOUGH!" she cries out in a voice that echoes like her father's thunder, and the light whirls around her like so many angry hornets.

"That is enough!" Angry step-mother it is. "Enough of the grudges. Enough drawing blood and pain from amongst our own!" she rails out, turning in a slow circle to regard every one of them in turn. So often, she is humble. So often, she embraces her smallness. Not now. Now, she is her father's daughter, a Titan's daughter, in full, and the very heavens give her their regard. Her hair seems to float on the air as though she were under water; she is a thing of air to be sure, and there is strangeness that her feet remain solidly on the ground.

"Of all the choices we have been given, they mean nothing if we do not choose to put aside what came before and look to what comes next," she says with dire certainty. "Management's efforts to bring us together to forge a future are for naught if we insist on belaboring what's past."

"I am not speaking to a cluster of fools and you know that I speak the truth," she snaps, her voice sharp as the slap across the cheek of a hysteric. "Now remember what we do here, and choose: live in what was, and damn us all, or stop posturing and stroking the millstones of ancient hate like they are your dearest treasures."

Apparently a sleepy, almost no longer existing serpent can sleep through anything. _Anything_. Except suddenly Urania is yelling and Oh jerks upright, flailing arms that are still all too new to him "...ahhhhhso sorry!" he says, fuzzily "I'm so sorry! I won't do it again - it was an accident! He tripped and fell in my mouth!"

Diamanto watches the blade hit Brok's neck, the blood. Then the monster transforms, and she just kind of looks around. Giant wolf, manticore, people running and freaking out. She doesn't outright smile, but especially Holden can tell she's just relaxed. Totally at home amidst all this uproar. She's perky, bright-eyed, and just... looks content. She kisses Holden lovingly, then tells him, "We should go have sex. If I go to the trailer, will you meet me there?"

Holden listens to the Muse and he seems to be talking her words to heart. When his bride asks for a performance of duties, he says, "Get my knife. I can't leave without it. Then, yes, we will have sex." He's already lifting her off his lap. "Urania, I will take your words to heart. You are correct."

Sebastianus watches Fenris grow, digging his claws into the ground in preparation--ah, and there the bindings are, doing as they ought. Does he look smug as the cat sitting on top of the roof while the dog barks? Yes. Yes he does. Except then Urania is yelling and she never does that. His ears lie back and his lip writhes, bearing his purple-black teeth in annoyance. Not, however, in disagreement. Thus he remains where he is, eyes on her as she's due. He sees Oh awaken and flail, murmurs to him, "Peace, brother serpent. We're simply having an...inappropriately vocal disagreement." His 'murmur' isn't all that quiet, but it shouldn't wake anyone else up. Hopefully.

Not a second later Olivia comes running, wrapped in her grandmother's spiderweb silk shawl, wearing a long, flannel nightgown. She's felt that sound before, knows whose voice is making the sheepwagon window tremble; the screams from Kemen's followers only push her heart into her throat and her feet to greater speed. But when she arrives only Brok is bleeding, and not from Sebastianus, so relief floods her, making her legs tremble. She pauses by Kemen and Leona's trailer to catch her breath, slowly approaches Sebastianus. He makes no move, only wiggles an ear when she's close enough to touch him, and she threads her hands into his mane. "Stop, please," she whispers, and he grunts. A glance to Holden, radiating feline approval, then he looks to Urania. "My apologies, North Star." Then he turns his back on the camp. "Come," he says to Olivia, "we'll go find them."

Sebastianus walks to an open spot, and Olivia climbs on his back, winding her arms into his mane. He launches into the sky in a powerful leap, and his wings send them up into the night.

Holden's knife is between the jaggedly sharp claws of the ginormous (but not -that- ginormous) Fenrir who still has blood dripping from his fangs. Which, for a fearless murder nymph is easy pickin's. His reaction to the massive, terrifying manticore is mixed... as if unsure if this is just an equal sized friend or actually a foe.

Which, all goes right out the window when Urania unleashes her Titanic temper upon the tantrum. The large wolf flicks his gaze over the muse and his grow silences to a near quiet whine.

Fenrir spies the older lady and he is further deflated and he steps back, shrinking more and more till finally he stands simply as a man, clothing and all. Surrounded by fur. He has a permanent frown stamped upon his face and he says, "It is always this way.... it is always the sins of the father." He looks down and away and then at Urania and he sighs a bit. "I wanted to show them how I could be useful... how I could drive the unbelievers to them... I..." He looks back at the camp, the manticore, the vacancies. He stops speaking and starts to walk back towards the dark. His chains dragging.

That little display took more out of the muse than she'd likely care to admit, but she does have her rocket scientist on hand elsewhere in the camp, which seems to supercharge her on those rare occasions it happens. The strobes of light around her fade back toward their more typical glow, sputtering slowly down in fits and starts. "Oh, treasure, it wasn't you," she says in a far more conciliatory tone, empathy on her face. "And you can eat all the rude people you like." She even seems to encourage this.

Her shoulders deflate further as Fenrir's whine catches her attention, and she quietly walks toward the great wolf. "You, too." It's not like the world will run out of rude people any time soon. "Tch. Stay. Because you're right. There's been enough of that." Is she biased? Perhaps. Likely not in the way most would imagine, but she surely is. "There is a role for every one of us to play in what's to come," she insists. "That idea is good one. A critical one, I imagine."

Oh squints a golden eye towards Sebastianus. And he opens his mouth, possibly to ask questions - he trusts his fellow Beast. Then, however, the manticore is vanishing off into the air. Oh lifts a hand to rub at his temples "Well, I don't think it's inappropriate to always disagree vocally, that way we know what's...wrong?" he says in a bright tone of voice, as if hoping real hard is going to fix everything. And then he sees Fenrir and he says "Oh, brother wolf - hello - I mean, I think you might have occasionally been a brother of another of me, which is to say - Fenrisúlfr?" His Old Norse pronunciation has a rather heavy Greco-Roman accent, it has to be said. Ouroboras more than Jorgmandr. And then he is beaming at Urania, and he gives her a very warm expression "Thank you," he says, with great contentment "Ah, yes, there _is_ a role for all of us, I am quite certain. The new ones, and the old ones, and the _really_ old ones."

Brok stops at the edge of the light of the fire and turns back, set and sturdy and dark but obedient, it seems. "The mead..." He motions at an abandoned skin of it, "It never sits will with me. Idt is my father's drink." He seems to be apologizing. He nods to Oh, though, "Brother... I have done your camp ill. I gave tribute and then terror to your King. I forgot my place when I sat amongst such noble creatures."

Aya's tiny figure stomps out in a nightgown, dressing gown, and a night camp. "What is wrong with you people! Some of us were trying to sleep!"

"And," Urania says in a quiet voice, "the small ones." Like herself, typically. "And the very, very big ones that sometimes break things." There's a gentleness in those words that's more in keeping with her typical manner. "Sometimes, there are very big things that need to be broken." It seems, in her mind, to apply to both of the brothers, no matter how different their perspectives. "We would have no hope of that without you."

There is a look toward the insistent figure of Aya, and the muse offers a weak smile of apology. "Forgive me," she murmurs, inclining her head. "Perhaps we should take the remainder of this to the desert, and perhaps a proper hunt?"

Oh says "Why don't you come back and sit by the fire. It's very warm and nice, and it makes you want to fall asleep." Which is his problem - he tends to drop off, very suddenly. The faded creature peers at Aya, and then he says "Oh, everything is very fine, I think. Would you like to come and sleep here? As I was just saying to Brother Wolf here, it does make one very dozy..." He glances sideways at Urania as she speaks, listening. Then he says "Mmm. The small ones." He brightens "A hunt is almost always a good idea." The World Serpent is always hungry, and more or less dangerously so.

Brok has drawn slightly nearer now, with the calmer tones of Oh and Urania, and he lower his head to Aya without answer. The idea of food also seems to stimulate the devouring Wolf along with his slithering kin. "Skol! Hati!" The two large wolves return from the shadows to their father's side. "I cannot leave the fair... will you hunt with our kin and bring back a feast? We also need to bury new treasure, so... bring back rich feasts."

He doesn't quite seem to know what to do at this point.

Aya angrily taps a pink feather slippered foot and glares at them. Urania's apology mollifies her somewhat. "It sounded like a symphony was trying to murder someone.... Wait, why are all these watches and wallets on the ground? What were you _doing_?" She gives Ouroboros a motherly look, tiny mortal to ancient terror, "Do you need anything? A rat? Some water?"

The muse cants her head as she glances toward Aya, then to Oh and Brok. She's at a loss, and, like she often does when in such a state, she reaches down into the basket to pick out a bottle of very good wine, and offers it to the woken women with a sheepish look. "Wine?" The hopeful smile is what makes it really pathetic.

"Why can't you leave?" asks Oh, who finds that a little puzzling "I am happy to go with your wolves - but you should come. I can take my true form out there. Sebastianus took us to somewhere we could eat cattle the other night, but it helps me to have someone who can take the horns off." He gestures to his mouth "They just hurt." He adds "I will bring back food for you, however. I mean, I know what it is to be hungry." Loki's children, even those syncretised rather than true-born, know hunger. He eyes Aya, Oh does, and he says to her "I don't know - it's very o...oooh. Did people transform? That is how I lost my wallet once." Then he says "Yes, a rat would be very nice. And some water. But you should drink wine." Wine from a muse...

"I am... limited..." Brok begins and he huffs out an angsty sigh. "The beard of a lady." He motions towards the bearded lady tent. "The whisper of a cat." To the cat tamer's show. "The spit of a fish." He motions to the mermaid pavilion. It seems he could go on but he doesn't, the tattoos still glowing slightly on his forearms, smoke rising lightly from them. He looks back to his brother and sighs, "I do hate our father at times."

Aya smiles gently, "This is why you should keep your money in the strong box and only carry around what you need. I'll got get you your rats in a minute okay?" She eyes the muse, "Is this going to do anything weird to me?" She looks up at the big man and his wolves, "I can't tell if that's a recipe or poetry...."

"It is just wine, I'm afraid," says the muse, before she lifts her eyes toward the sky. "I should probably check on your father, gentlemen, as I wager the Queen may have caught him by now." And with that, she quietly begins to make her way off into the night.

Oh says "Hmm. A rat, first, and then I will go and bring back something _big_ for the Brother Wolf and his two children here." He is so bright about it all, his golden eyes intense. Change and experience, and the urge to move forward - and in Brok's mystic universe he ends up dripping poison into his father's eyes. Well, right now he is just a giant constrictor in a man's body "Would you like that?"

Brok grins a little and nods, "Of course I would, brother...." He furrows his brows and watches Oh with some deep emotion and then says, "How are you the only Nord I can bare to be around? Nord as you are. The good brother?" He laughs a little at that. "Well... we will get you back your form one day. We will prevail with... the fake sun and... humanity." He waves a hand idly, clearly not fully up on details. Then he nods and his children go to follow their uncle happily as Brok goes to find somewhere to sleep.

Aya shrugs and takes a swig, "Thank you. The wine is good." She kisses the top of the World Snake's head. "Whatever you think is best." She eyes Brok and his wolves and sighs, "I am going to be cleaning up this mess, aren' I?

Brok does give Aya a glance and then the mess another one... and a mumble and a grunt as he scratches his cheek. Something about in the morning.