Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » Of Demigods and Demilords (open)

"Maybe... but... I wouldn't bet on it... my pantheon has long receted the only slightly active was my father and that was long ago... Seth... as for the library it piques my interest" I make a hieroglyph of sorts and a rose made of flames blossoms on my palm. I place it on the top of the water and it turns into steam. " I would offer you a similar thing but our archives are closed to those that aren't trainees or scribes... but I love the spice market nearby... the smell of cinnamon and coffee and of drying flowers in the heat of the sahara burning bright..." as the flame disappears you see the golden glow diminish it is only slight but there as if magic takes from my energy even if I was born with the powers. even shifting consumes energy and if that energy is not replenished it takes from my life source.

A concerned look spread across Aaron’s face. “Are you going to be ok,” he asked, “is there any way to restore what you lose?”

((She didn't say that last part but ill roll with it))

"food sleep and meditation help but it takes time... shifting takes the most energy and portals as well" With a sigh, I splash water on my face to help me wake up.

“If my assumptions are correct. The pantheon you claim is not from this realm. In fact they are known not to initiate in relations with mortal beings, instead inhabiting select mortals with a peice of their soul. Your very existence in any realm is astounding. I must study further if we survive these coming days.”
He mutters to himself, having been ignored this entire time. Giving a sigh as he pinches the skin between his eyes.
“Just like a son of the fallen to flirt with a foreign being even with the threat of death over his head.”

“I don’t... what do you mean flirting,” he shot back, “and when in Oblivion did you get here?!? You of all people should know that splitting up here is a terrible idea.” He crossed his arms across his chest, a flicker of rage building in his eyes. “You aren’t completely blameless either, Starborn,” he continued, “just because you are the child of Stelleron doesn’t mean you have the right to ridicule me; none of us had a choice who we were born to, least of all me. I’ve been running most of my life because I was different than him, because I was born of a Fallen, and just because I may have burned something here or there. So stop attacking me and let’s just find our way out of here; I’ve got a feeling it’s going to get worse soon.”

"they aren't known for it but in places of high magic and if said magic is done by a descendant of the high house of ankh... they can appear in human form... if they wish... but my gods are fickle things they usually don't like meddling with human affairs, but Seth is not like the others... he is confusing on his best days"I answer softly

"so I'm guessing I got kidnapped by some other deity?" this one I ask it to no one, in particular, I yawn slightly making a soft animal-like noise. "as for what he says I know about similar things... I as a daughter of Seth have been looked down most of my life, my father is a chaotic trickster who changes alliances more than I change shape... but that doesn't make me evil or a liar by birth... you are what you choose to be and who you choose to become, you should not be judged by something you can't control... like gender or who your parent is..."

this topic seems like a rather sore spot for me the tattoos flaring as does my anger and temper my eyes glimmer with unseen flame and fury an inferno in human skin has been one of the many things I've been called. two-faced whore and less than pleasing things as well. I had fought to be proven worthy of the house of life and had to fight to be able to even train with other scribes.

“I’m guessing so,” Aaron turned away from Starborn, “I think Vanador may be to blame; he finds cruel joy out of pitting halfimmortali against each other. But you’re right, it is who we chose to make ourselves, not where we come from or what we were unable to chose.”

I nod softly happy for once someone else understands what it's like to suffer because of your parentage. The brightness slowly melts as I calm myself down. I ruffle my curls softly a sheepish smile on my lips. "Sorry about my small outburst..."

“Don’t be,” he reassures her, “it’s hard to control the flame after the spark, isn’t it.” He had finally found someone he could relate to, and it was in the middle of one of Vanador’s cruel entertainment processes; fate could be fickle like that, he thought. “I ran from Netharan because I couldn’t do what he wanted; he is vengeful and enraged, always seeking destruction and death. I’m not like him, and I hope I never end up like him; I run because I’m afraid that if I fight, I’ll lose myself to the blaze, become the thing I sought to lock away.”