Chern, 22/50 AP, Alatadriel's Wedding
It was only when the guests were taking their seats at the crest of the ocean cliff, bare minutes before the ceremony was set to begin, that a wizened figure in an ill-fitting toga shambled hurriedly onto the scene. Chern adjusted his mask with a thin hand, apologising hoarsely as he side-stepped past the already-seated guests towards his assigned position. He lowered himself with a gasp of exertion, clutching at the small of his back. He then rifled through the folds of his toga, brushing aside dust and stray feathers, and even a stray fang that'd embedded in his thigh.
He'd had to duck away from dealing with the desert raptors to make the wedding, and consequentially hadn't found much time to make himself presentable. Chern couldn't help but feel a bit of chagrin at the sight of Alatadriel and her bride walking down the aisle, even more stunning than usual in her ceremonial attire. She was just as - if not more - responsible for the botched creation of the terrors as Grawissen, but at least he had helped with Chern's aid initiative. Meanwhile here Alatadriel was, making a mockery of mortal rituals with this perverse affect of mundanity. It was irresponsible, megalomaniacal, a frivolous refusal of her own divinity.
Then again, Chern understood the temptation to play at mortality. He'd almost done much the same thing with the Sanctuary necromancer girl who's name he still couldn't recall. While the divine couple recited their vows, Chern couldn't help but think of her briefly.
"Um, excuse me."
Chern looked to the side, where a wealthy Sinalese man was looking at him with impatience.
"Hmm?"
"Sir, are you aware that you smell awful? And I mean, really awful?"
"Hmm..."
Chern tuned out the puny mortal's indignance, watching with a listless gaze as Alatadriel and Magus pontificated on their mutual everlasting love.
---
With the marriage consummated, festivities began atop the dramatic sea cliff. Chern immediately proceeded to the punch bowl, filling himself a goblet and lifting his mask a fraction to take a sip. He swirled the fruity beverage around in his cheeks for a few seconds, then spat it onto the grass, which immediately wilted and died. He used a hip flask from his grimy toga to top up the goblet with a few shots of luminous brown chum.
Maggie broke off from the party for a bit as Alatadriel dances among the fire dancers who had their own seperate area. Dancers weaved between each other's flames as they pounded their feet into the sandy dance pit. The few pairs of dancers who could perform such a dance without tiring themselves went about weaving seamlessly together, ducking beneath flames inches from their heads as their partners dipped them. Others breaking off from each other seconds before fire ignited the tips of their fingers.
"Hey, You're uh..." Magus seemed to be racking her head. "Chern right? I had a friend who met you... Well... 'friend' may be a bit too nice, she was a bit of a bitch. Anyway, how goes... Decaying things?" Maggie looked at the flame dancers as Alatadriel weaved between all the groups, spinning across the pit between the strikes of the flame dancers that dodged each other. Chern turned his yellow eyes on Magus.
"You tell me, mortal, you're the one who's doing it as we speak." Chern took another sip, and smacked his lips. He looked over at the dancers, then back at Magus, a little less intense this time. "Apologies, that was not the sort of comment to make on a day like this. Especially not to the newly-wed. Congratulations, by the way."
Maggie backed up a couple of feet from Chern "Yeeeah." She take a very long sip of punch as she tries to ignore the glowing eyes of Chern as she focused on her wife instead, whose dress was whipping with flames as she danced giving a blissful sigh. "She's even more beautiful when she's happy isn't she?"
"You've certainly found quite the partner, literal goddess and all. Though I can't help but wonder... Does it not bother you? How different you are? She probably knows you better than you know yourself, and you'll never be able to comprehend all of her."
Maggie snorted as she let out a laugh. Choking slightly on her drink.
"Oh, ahaha. " She snorted again. "Oh, that's funny. You really don't know her that well." She stopped to take a drink. "It's a little hard to see past all those layers she puts up, that immaculate facade. I don't even think she sees past it on her bad days to be honest. But... I do. And she's not really all that different from any of the mortals... Also, she still hasn't caught on to the fact that I don't like chocolate. So she doesn't know everything about me."
Chern blinked at the bride, his mask impassively hiding his skepticism.
"Can't argue with that," he said, swirling his drink. He reached into his toga. "Hey, before you go mingle and dance with your love, I wanted to give you something. I understand that you're with child. Here."
Chern handed Magus a small wooden box, bleached to the characteristic paleness of Chern's mask. Inside was an intricate construction of metal and glass, with an fluid-filled chamber at one end and a needle-point at the other.
"It's for the child, when she's born. Careful though, it's sharp."
"Um... Thank you?" Magus looked confused as she held up the strange fluid filled container. Looking at the careful construction made her feel a bit ill, and she put the glass contraption back into the box. Alatadriel seperated herself from the crowd, sweating slightly as she gave shouts of encourangement to others as she walked. She took a long drink from the punch bowl.
She extended her hand to Chern for a shake. "So how're you liking the party, buddy?" The band started to play a slower, but drum heavy beat. "Oh, I know I was just out there, but this is my favorite song!" She looked to Maggie for approval.
Maggie giggled. "Oh, it's fine." Magus pecked Alatadriel on the cheek. "Just save the next dance for me, okay?"
"Hey, you haven't really been dancing all that much Chern. Mind being my partner?"
"It's called a vaccine, I developed the concept for them a while ago but then healing magic became a thing and- come again?" Chern looked from Alatadriel to Magus and back again. "A dance? Uh..."
"Yeah, Chern. That's what you do at parties. Come on," Alatadriel took his hand. "It's not that hard. I'll even lead if you want me too."
Maggie giggled, whispering to Chern. "That's a joke, she always leads."
Chern's eyes widened, his mask impassively hiding the flush that crept into his pallid face, as he was yanked away into the throng of dancers. He had to dodge to the side as a jet of fire narrowly missed igniting his head.
Spoiler: Help!
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Help Alatadriel create a demigod
+4 Decay as this gift concerns diseases
-2 Downtrodden, because Alatadriel is a fascist
The syringe Chern gave to Magus, if administered to Rosalin, will make her immune to diseases of any kind. It also tangentially grants her and her society with an advanced technology, namely vaccination, though since no one knows what a virus is yet they'll probably end up injecting people with suspensions of crushed up fox genitals or something.
---
Fortified punch spilled across the cushions of the outdoor reclining sofa, as Chern gesticulated with his goblet.
"Look, I don't want to say it. I don't want to be that guy... But we're all thinking it right? Right? You know what I'm talking about, huh?"
The hua-ling sitting perched on the table opposite him met the tipsy god's gaze steadily. Chern leaned in close to vulpine face, ignoring the young student couple making out on the cushions right beside him.
"This Magus mortal is so punching above her weight in this relationship. I mean, I get it. There is an allure in the ephem- ephemal- ephemerality of mortalkind, to be sure. And she's... Well she's not bad looking. She's a type, y'know, I suppose she's Alatadriel's type. But coooome oooon, she's with a goddess! Is everyone just going to ignore that? She used to be a fox for the love of rot! No offence, 'course."
The fox licked its nose in a conciliatory manner.
"But yeah, she could definitely do better. Could make her own perfect lover. Someone who has the same interest in little mechanical inventions as she, perhaps. Or even get with one of the other gods, you know? Sure she's a bit of a pariah with the pantheon community at present, and not without reason. She's a despot, and generally a horrible person to be honest. But she's just so foxy, is she not? Sorry I don't know if that's an okay word to use, is it okay?"
The hua-ling glared.
"Alright, I get it, your word. Hey... Hey... I got to ask. Does Alatadriel... She's the father, right, so does she have a, you know... A thing?"
Chern waggled his finger suggestively. The hua-ling hopped off the table and sauntered away, apparently disgusted. Chern slumped back in the sofa.
"Oh dear..." He glanced reproachfully at the oblivious couple next to him. "I need to find a bathroom."
---
When Chern awoke the next morning, he felt a strange, almost out of body experience. Like he was floating on a light breeze. He opened his eyes - or tried to, instead finding that eyes had lost their meaning for him, that he no longer needed eyes. Chern expanded his consciousness, attempting groggily to grasp his situation.
He was hovering at the beginning of one of the paths to the Passing. Most curious, he thought. He didn't remember dying recently. He turned his perception back down towards the earth, not too far below him yet simultaneously so, so distant. He could just about see it...
His own corpse, lying face down beside the latrines, his flesh being scavenged by a small group of hua-ling. Chern's disembodied divine soul muttered to itself dejectedly.
"Damn it. I need to stop coming to parties."
"You could be onto something there, my friend."
Thal-Verys stood part way up the immaterial path above him, her Book of Souls in one hand and her lantern in the other. Chern looked up at her, his aspect melancholic.
"Working hard I see. The demands of death never cease nor slow."
"Especially when it comes to you Chern. Where do you wish to go? The Passing?"
"No, no. I should return to my raptor oasis. Do some hard work myself."
"Very well. Let me escort you. Let's get you home."
"Thank you, Thal-Verys."
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