Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Alexandria, Egypt

Philomela flushed a darker shade of red when she was referred to as his companion. "You honor me Lord." The rest of it was just as blush worthy and so she chooses not to comment on it. Instead she'll focus on his description of Olympus.

"It sounds...like it's as near to perfection as you can get. How sad that some of your kind can no longer get there." She'd look a little confused, "If Zeus is that loving, how come so many of the stories about him involve jealousy? Because he was in Greece and felt those things you said?"

She'd wrinkle her nose, "Daughter of Apollo? He...I don't know. That doesn't feel right. He's...frightening...ah..." She didn't know how else to explain it, "Any other words to describe him would be blasphemy." She's looking around again, "Yours? How so?" She didn't seem too keen on that idea either though. Whatever she felt for Ash, she was sure they weren't...daughterly feelings.

Ash took a moment to consider. "Jealousy may not be the correct word. Righteous anger, perhaps. I am not saying he is without fault, but those of us who once came from his mind or body feel completion with him, and many things in this world spawned from him in one way or another, even if not as direct offspring. Zeus even forged the first man and woman with the hands of some others like our dear Hermes." He reminded. At least, that's what greek lore informed of Pandora. "Beyond that... he does what he does with good intentions. He did not send Hermes to confuse those at the tower and make languages in the world from sheer jealousy. It was to keep men from becoming too amok in their own ambitions, as he had seen before and ended with the flood. Deucalion's flood was not only from anger at human sacrifice, but by the dark tone the world had taken after, ah... Prometheus, I supposed you could say, stole the fire of olympus and delivered it to men. The story is not near so simple, but is told in a parable you can understand. It was not anger that made him destroy those who took the flame, but those who would destroy the earth with what they gained from it."

As for the rest... "Well, Namine seems quite fond of you, and the goatkeepers are few. Unless you would prefer being Via's daughter, hah!"

Philomela tried to listen to what he was saying, but it was hard for her to understand. "But what about Hera? And Io?" Those are the stories she had been speaking about. She's got a lot to think on, and something occurs to her, "Lord Pan, will I remember all of this when I wake up? I don't...want to forget. But sometimes the other dreams...unless I tell them to someone right away, or have the chance to write them down they fade away from my memory."

That last part has her eyes going wide, "No!" She's biting her lip then, "No disrespect...ah...I just don't think that I would make a very good daughter for Lord Hermes." As for Namine, "Yes, but...she's really the only one. A lot of times animals seem to be a bit afraid of me. I often wonder where she came from." She'd pause, "You can't tell by looking at her can you?"

"Well, what about them? Lady Ashera was also being built in reverence to in that tower. But they--they were trying to make paradise on earth, replacing the value of those who should have it, making their own guidelines and redefining what is true. As for remembering... perhaps. I understand that you can read and write. If you struggle remembering your dreams after fully waking, keep a scroll and quill near you as you sleep so that, when you wake, you remember what you have seen. I will see if I can have Via run you such supplies before you wake tonight. VIA!"

A sigh came in the background, Yare, yare--I'm on it. The voice jingled but no body came to show for it.

Finally, temptation got the better of him. The mountain of comfortable pillows suddenly had a large beast of sorts within it, blackened mane sporting jutting horns from either side, from which hung a countless arrays of foreign rings. The head of the creature was indeterminable, shrouded by a golden hawkish helm. It left only shag visible beneath. Scales erupted down the otherwise feline back, tail curling with thick scaling and bony parts leading into scorpion's stinger. Birdish claws took the front, and bovine hooves the back as it wrapped around her, large enough for its side to be a recliner for her in spite of the pillows. "Oh... I might be able to..." It didn't sound uncertain so much as somehow playful for the old codger.

Philomela was still trying to understand, but it was a lot for her to take in. The part about Via getting her supplies has her biting her lip, "I can get my own...just seemed a waste on the road when I needed food more than I needed to write down what I had seen. I thought Lord Hermes was busy anyway?" She was starting to feel a little bad for him, with the way Ash ordered him around to and fro.

It isn't long before she's getting a new sort of bed, and while the form should probably frighten her, it doesn't. Likely because she knows who it is. "Is this what you look like then?" She'd twist to get a better look, "May I pet you?" Questions about Namine are forgotten for the moment as she looks over Ash's newest form. "You're always so very large..."

"Not quite. I choose not to traumatize you, and take on forms relative enough to me to prevent it--and tend to ensure that I conceal my visage while here." Hopefully she didn't believe the hooplah about her being vaporized if she saw it, however. "Yes." He rumbled deeply at the request to give him attention. "Please." in fact, the creature rolled, displaying its underbelly--or at least the idea of it. Just... don't look down in the dreamscape, as that's less traditional PG13. And as if on cue, "Darling, you have no idea."

Hermes' plight in business seemed to be the last priority in that conversation, addressed late. "He is always busy. If you wait until tomorrow to fetch utensils to transcribe it with, you could very well forget it. He's more than likely to have some such utensils in his pockets anyway--and the deed is done, he's already on his way."

Philomela bit her lip, "Are you truly that frightening Lord? Or...will I go blind if I look upon you in your truest form?" He seems to want belly rubs though, and she can't help but smile at him, and she'll rub his belly. "You're warm...at...home...it always makes me feel sort of sleepy." She's content for now to sit there and rub his belly like he's some sort of giant house cat.

"Well if you put it that way. I don't want him to go to any trouble for me. We've never been on the best of terms, Lord Hermes and I. I wouldn't want to forget this dream though." She's smiling faintly, "Thank you for sharing it with me."

"Frightening? I might think so. Blind you? I doubt it. I have caused two heart attacks until this point, but never blindness. Populus, on the other hand, has blinded two individuals although that has had little to do with true form." He dictated, swiffing his tail side to side as he was fawned over. His typical graveled voice took on the form of a deep, feline purr.

"There are few that 'Lord Hermes'," it came with mocking tone, "does not or, in the very least, can not get along with on some level. While off-topic from the point of fatherhood, how hard is it that you have tried to concur with him, or experience some form of fellowship? Were you not on some quest by your lord, would you view him now as you thus far have? If your mission was against me from the beginning, might you even see me as such, by whatever words have been said?" He queried, rolling over to face Philomela--in their respective form, and space.

"You are always welcome here, and in that I offer you another idea. That pool, do you see it?" hopefully she had, and could, as he nodded towards the fountain. "It is a pool of memories, and knowledge, for which I have hung myself. I consider you a reasonable and balanced individual. I offer you... one query to the fountain. Of me, or Via, or the rest of us to answer whatever questions, or doubts you may have over any of us. Go ahead. Take a drink. You should find a goblet nearby if you can perceive it."

Philomela thought about it for a moment, "I don't think you could frighten me Lord. Inside I would know it was still you, no matter how frightening the form. But...I suppose I could be wrong." She'd shrug, this form was just fine with her. She was continuing with her belly rubs, for as long as he was laid in that rolled over position.

The comments about Luci caused her to shake her head, "You misunderstand me Lord. That is what I'm saying. I misjudged from the start, and therefore caused the distress in our relationship myself. How can we be on good terms given that I've done nothing but accuse him of thievery since the day we met?" She'd sigh, "You are right. I only knew what my Lord had to tell me, and I had no reason to doubt him. It very well could have been you that he set me on a path to find." She'd give him a small smile, but she looked sad, "I'm grateful that he didn't."

She's looking around again, "Welcome here? But...how would I get here without a guide?" She'd look at the fountain when he mentioned it and she seemed a little afraid of it. "Alright..." She'd get up off the pillows and go nearer to it, to take the goblet she found and the water from the fountain. She doesn't drink of it though, for a moment she's just standing there with the cup, staring into the water.

"Heh... you underestimate his value of the saying to live and let live. I know of only one he has never forgiven, at least as far as I perceive. Show him your apology as you have me--though I imagine such was what you wished to speak to him about later. Treat tomorrow as a new day, burdened only by brief apology and I believe all should be well." The large cat shifted and stretched as she moved, following her with comfortable stride.

"What you see is a conduit." It peered over the fountain's brim into the water, so reminiscent to the idea of the countless gasses churning in the nebula they supposedly inhabited. "To knowledges of... all sorts. Think long and hard. One drink, one question. Be it of me, or your lord, or anything else. Do be wary that the answer could likely be something you do not wish to see."

Philomela would nod concerning Luci, "That and what we discussed before." Her thoughts on someone trying to play them both. She's still staring into the cup when he walks up beside her, "I...have an idea of what I want to ask...I'm just not...sure how to ask it." She'd worry her lip, "I want to know more about my Lord. I want to know...if he lied." She'd pause, "And I'm not saying he did, but if he did...why. I just...I don't think this water can answer that...." She'd look over at him, "Can it?"

"Well, first, you must establish a solid question. I can not coax you in finding it. However, it would be unfair to ask anyone, 'I want to know more--if he lied, I don't think so, but did he, and why?' So solidify your question, and then see if an answer can be given. The answer might not be so direct as you are looking for, and also will only be as deep as your desire to find the resolution, for such answers can come with many tiers of truth. You're asking the motives of a timeless god, after all."

Philomela nodded, "I know...I just..." She wasn't really sure what exactly she wanted to know, and that was the problem. She'd look at the water again, "Can I ask what his intentions towards me were? Or is that still too broad a topic? Or too personal?" She seems nervous about asking a question of the water, though most of it is because she's worried she'll ask the wrong thing.

"That depends on what answer you want. He might have had many intentions towards you, and thereby your answers may become cluttered and incoherent. If you are willing to bare that then by all means, ask; if you want something with more clarity, think hard on what you wish to know. Think of how to detail your question according to the answer you are looking for. Is it for you as an oracle? For your search for Lord Hermes? For something else? Once you have a solid idea of what to ask, the water can give a crystal clear answer."

Philomela shook her head, "Not as an oracle." She's chewing on her lower lip again, "I...I'd just really like to know why he sent me after Lord Hermes in the first place." She seemed doubtful though, "That doesn't mean I'm calling him a liar does it?" There's a bit of fear that flickers across her face, it's no secret that she finds Apollo terrifying. "I think maybe...if I knew that much...I could...figure some other things out for myself." Or so she thought anyway. "But...can I ask that?" She'd look back at Ash again, she's really not clear on how this water is going to work, or how much it's going to tell her.

"To ask one's intention is not to accuse of a lie, though one might wonder if the thought mills in your mind if you so worry over being so-seen. You have your question; Then meditate on that thought and drink, as if drinking of the tree of knowledge. There is little difference between the two."

The color drained from Philomela's face, "I'm not...I wouldn't..." Yeah, she probably has thought on it, which is the source of her distress because she knows that it's wrong. She's going to take a seat by the fountain with the cup, and she'll look at the water in the cup again, as she tries to clear her mind and focus on her question.

She's quiet for several minutes, before she'll finally lift the cup to her mouth and drink. Hopefully she won't be too shocked by the answer that she finds.

Akasha did not work in such simple boundaries as speaking an answer. It remembered, as if in a dream. At times it could be blurry, or perhaps lacking color--those things of focus could be far more vivid than the world around them, but that was to be expected when focusing on the living peacock of a man that was due to overwhelm her perception, erasing the star-glossed world around her.

At first, it was him and darkness, though it might seem almost fitting for him. His jovial persona was almost dangerous with his crooked grin and downturned cap, who moved from one vague figure to the next. A thousand images rolled beneath his feet, and even more paths. Deals, perhaps. Questionable, if his face had anything to say, but each time he ran to someone who must be of consequence. Glittering gates were passed, only for him to kneel before a figure that was all but imperceivable, lighting the former darkness and stretching well beyond the edges of vision--only for him soon to turn, and find himself in deepest, darkest pits to face a fire-maned, snake-faced and sneering man made of shadow. This was all an introduction, however. As, in the end, it was as if every image accumulated at once, to 'Hermes' kneeling in front of someone she knew all too well. His comfortable seat wasn't quite a throne, but it was embellished just like the room around. Ash's hand was atop his head for a moment, sliding the cheek and drawing him to look up. A single grin was all it took; the words were unimportant, perhaps spoken in a dialect she didn't recognize--they weren't what mattered, the idea was that they encouraged hermes to stand.

It was only the first stage of what could be called a hallucination. A single droplet came from nothing, rippling the water that should have simply been in her glass, but overwhelmed the mind--it was an endless sea, with the idea of a cup being nothing but a conduit.

The other images came more quickly, but solidly. Clashes, and more than one. 'Pan's mane should be recognizeable, even if he wore a surprising hawkish helm. The image she had of Apollo was likely different than the haggard, dark-armored thing that clashed time and again with him, as if the stretches of the sky were a small battleground by which to exchange differences. In an array of powers and lights, a beastial, pained roar gave quake to the ground and what appeared to be Ash came crashing to the ground, skidding through plains and woods with his helmet dropping alongside him like a warful casualty. The other was left holding some sort of blazing power in the sky, almost lost behind it.

Brief--moving on--

A dimmed aura was about the former hawk-man, who weilded a spear and the same roar, this time empowered, battling the other again.

...And again.A shadowy silhouette of a warrior clad in numerous fabrics and glossed in armor had stood alongside him with each image, but each time grew further away, detached from the situation.

...And again. The familiar colorful figure even conferenced, walking dangerous lines in shadows, but a momentary flash of agony from him might seem outright uncharacteristic.

Each time he darkened. Each time, he seemed a little closer to the image of the one he had first fought, while the other grew in brightness and glory. The ribbon-wrapped figure with black hair had taken to try to mediate between them, but the war grew worse. Soon, the darkened figure was seperate altogether from the blazing sun that had taken its place. It was more of a... detached figure watching a puppet with dark mirth.

The divide became unsalvageable. Even the dark woman looked to be little more than a heap lost in darkness, face covered.

The images of Ash? Gone, for the time. Instead, there was only an unfamiliar, brooding anger to 'Hermes', who stood as a warrior rather than a thief.

All went black.

All came to light again, and from an undiscernable pile of earth the hoof-footed figure was pressing up, looking surprisingly young again.

...But the images began their cycle again. Once, even, the fire was stolen back, only to be stolen... back-back.

Ultimately, Pan loomed in the woods, eyes on the earth rather than the sky. Hermes returned to him, only to return to the images that all had opened with: Here, there and yon, to multiple errands and chores, all returning to Pan in his quietude.

And in it all, the sun managed to pierce the trees and watch.

Perhaps a few other minor quirks even washed through the tides at the end, like Hermes glaring out the window in front of her and closing it, only to be scolded by Ash's grunt and have it opened again.

Even the cloaked figure of Lord Athena was rendered for a moment, but it was only that--even Akasha gave only so much to the mysterious one.

When the imagery all broiled down, it left only a few final pulses: A blazing sun, rotating in nothing; soon to be settled within her imagination upon the wall in their space that was empty, opposite the moon; soon to be seen momentarily within the helmeted gaze that stared at her as she likely came back to 'reality', if it could be called that in the warped space they inhabited.

It, too, was gone to a dark cavity under the helm, with only one looking upon her, unless she counted the mirrored one mounted upon a wall mimicing his gaze.

"Did you find your answer suitable?"

Philomela wasn't really prepared for the answer that she got, and she wasn't entirely sure that she understood it yet. She felt sort of hazy as if she'd been dreaming while seeing all of that, so it takes her moment to blink the 'regular' world back into focus before she realized that Ash had asked her a question.

She'd look a little worried, "I'm afraid I don't entirely understand the answer Lord Pan. I...it..." She seemed troubled, and who wouldn't be after watching that bizarre show? "I need to...think on it more." She'd set the cup down next to the water where she found it, and she'll go quiet, thinking about the things they saw, and what they had to do with her.

Hey, he'd warned her! Answers were rarely exactly what were hoped for. Just imagine poor gabe and his goat feet. Regardless, the answer was there amidst it all. "Even I have trouble understanding what all I see... hence my preference to stay amidst your world, rather than drifting in this uncontrollable tide." With that, he rose, swaying his tail. "The question was a weighty one at best. We are all... irrevocably bound together in our fates. I imagine that is part of what you've seen. Via is... useful to trace for anyone, regardless of motivation. If you can keep up with him, that is..." He settled back into the pillows, rumbling. "If you need to return to actual sleep, I will have Via escort you back. If your entire night is spent here, you will awaken tired."