Avis [SHEBA]

[L]

There are three cardinal rules to remember about gods.

The first is that they are volatile, fickle beings of great power. Almost omnipotent, perhaps. Angering a god, no matter the pantheon, no matter the deity, is not usually a good idea.

The second is that while they may be immortal, they are far from invincible. They can and do bleed. They may be felled.

The third is that for as long as the god in question is in existence, neither of the above two rules are set in stone. Especially not rule two.

This, Avis knows painfully well. She knows gods and their workings like a maze she has learnt to navigate blindfolded. She knows their ways and whims and fancies - and yet nothing at all, for gods change thoughts with the wind and fade like fire. It is with these musings in mind that she traipses the long, lonely path up what seems to be the mountain this valley is named for. The White Wolves - mystical, godlike creatures of unspeakable beauty - are said to have resided here ‘ere since the dawn of time. Taboo, the kind-hearted sister, who aligns herself with like-minded wolves. Sheba, the middle sister, fickle as summer winds, yet steadfast as the beating of waves against ocean rock, if the need arises. Geist, patron of the night - Nyx’s god - paragon of darkness in the valley. A cruel irony. All this, Avis has gathered from her two seasons of residence in this strange land.

And she thinks that this day she might find the chance to receive the fire of her birth once more. She knows she is neither particularly good, nor attuned to evil; so it is Sheba that she must pay homage to. She brings with her an offering, a dove with feathers whiter than the snow they were not too long ago beset by - now this is the customary gift, the li’wu; a hare that seems to have been touched by Geist herself, blacker than the obsidian rivers of her home’s volcano - this is the practical gift, the one necessity demands when tradition cannot suffice. Black and white, good and evil, all kept in check by the balance of the two. Avis has never understood evil wolves in her time here - why seek the destruction of the home you live in? The wolves you live with? There is no good enough motive to warrant such hedonistic destruction; many of them would see their wanton desires to fulfilment and then perish with the rest of the condemned.

Neither does she condone the all-good. They who speak with purity in their hearts and shy from death and morbid thoughts. They think they are strong men, but good men are rarely finishers. Would she be a good man? Avis thinks that, with her distaste for wanton death, she might be considered good in thought. But she knows it is not enough; in her past life she has killed, mercilessly. She was killed without the same mercy. But that is the way of life when one lives among wolves - death comes at any moment; the children of immortals are not exempt.

So it is to be fire, then. Avis remembers Nyx, who wore her shadow like a shield. She remembers Nyx’s guttering laugh, unbelieving of her past flames. Not that the girl blames the other female, no, for it is a tall enough tale to come to grips with. And then she knows that she has held off this journey for so long, because she was too new to the valley. Too unused to the things that went on within its walls. She needed the time to mature, to grow accustomed to the wolves who resided here. She needed - and still needs, and will forever need - the experience of meeting them, talking to them, having meaning conversations and forgettable lulls in the quiet. This is the burden of a stranger: one can never be too sure, but one must always be sure, if nothing else.

The caves loom before her. The decision is easy enough; follow her intuition and it will lead the girl to the true entrance. So there she waits, humble, pliant, bearing gifts and thoughts of another world’s gods.

And, of course, the three rules. Gods change. Gods die. Gods flout the first two.

OOC: written on the bus on the way to school LOL. My best work has always been done on low sleep and in the early hours :’-) Meds

[Meds]

((Avis is going to get such a culture-shock having to meet Sheba xD Sheba is a ridiculous creature))

Sheba;

Sheba's mind perked into wakefulness. She was always awake of course, with her mind stretched out far past the valley—far past what any of the inhabitants could know or imagine—but she also enjoyed sleep. So there was occasionally a period of waking up. She had once slept for a few years (had it been 2 or 10? She could ever remember), but had mostly kicked that habit.
Of her sisters, Sheba was the most random. The most silly. The most mortal, though even she loathed being called such. As her mind fully woke, she watched as another being that hated being called mortal approached her cave. Ahh, but she was a mortal.

Before she took form in the darkness of her cave, Sheba began flicking through the female's head. Avis Wren, indeed. A past god, from a land where all creatures bled immortality if only they would unlock it...
What a nightmare.
Sheba could only imagine the valley if all of the mortals had the potential for that kind of power. Maybe the wolves from Avis' past were more clever... Somehow, she doubted it.

The darkness facing Avis from the opening of Sheba's den was absolute, but inside the deity began taking form, folding the mists and shadows and air in the den around herself until she was once more reunited with her body.
"You're right," She said suddenly before exiting, yawning loudly. "A god can die—but you know who dies a lot easier?" With a silent breath of air, Sheba was behind Avis, purring directly into her ear. "Mortals." Yes, a title that fit this female perfectly well. What a shame.

But then Sheba was gone again, into the ethereal realm and back before Avis would have had time to blink, sitting directly in front of her den-home and smiling vacantly. Sheba didn't often take things very seriously—now was no different, of course—but something about the female's stoic exterior made Sheba hold her tongue a little more than was usual.
Her fur, as white as moonlight, brushed slightly in the wind—and where the wind touched it, it turned a flaming red, and then back to white again.

"So what brings you here?" As if she didn't know. "—to my humble little abode?" She glanced over her shoulder and watched as multiple vines wound their way down from the cliffs above and flowered, perfectly framing the cave with colour. Humble. Ha. Nothing about Sheba was humble.

[L]

WINTERFELL

There are few things that can surprise her, anymore. She has lived. She has died. She has resurrected with silver blood, no longer ichor; she has lost herself over and over and over again and been brought back by a woman she barely knows as family. She has served a queenless god, a god-queen, a woman-king - in all her years of life, there have been many, many things that have made themselves known to her. Avis is a girl not truly a girl; she thinks perhaps the one who most understands it is Nyx. She does not know for sure whether Nyx knows the feeling, but she speaks as if she had seen everything and more, in her own way, her own time. She knows the bitter embrace of fire on her fur, biting, burning, blazing fire - unholy fire brought forth by the wrath of the sun. She knows the relentless crashing of waves against ocean rock, the pounding perseverance of her mother's innate element.

"You're right," said the voice of Sheba - for who else could it be? "A god can die—but you know who dies a lot easier?" Yes, there was little that surprised her, for her own grandmother had appeared to her subjects in this way. "Mortals." And there it was, the thing that did surprise her - and that was the admission of mortality. Nay, gods were immortal beings... but it did not guarantee them eternal safety. And yet, here was one of those gods, saying the same. But who knew what gods truly meant? Sheba had mentioned nothing of herself, nor her sisters, nor her mother... so who was Avis to say that the wolf herself was not an undying creature?

Then the moment was broken, the shivering presence removed from her back. Avis stiffened as it did so, the sheer, sudden loss noticeable enough. Ah, but what was there to say, even then? Such talk would be useless; worthless to a god like Sheba was. She knew of gods - enough to know that they did not care for the mutterings of mortal soothsayers, nor their shamans, nor the wolves themselves who were earthbound. They did not even care for that of their fellow deities; there was no reason for them to pay heed to anything she herself could say. So she remained silent, and waited with her gifts and her thoughts, for Sheba to complete her entrance.

"So what brings you here?" As if she doesn't know, thought the girl, peering up at the white wolf with simple respect in her silver-eyed stare. What else was there to gaze at Sheba at? Fear? Oh, fear was wise - it was wise to fear that which one did not know - but in supplication before deities, fear could be a double-edged sword. So was reverence, and so was brashness. All of them were powerful tools in their own rights, but then again, what was a mortal tool to a god?

A gentle breeze slithered past. Up on the mountain, it was easy for the burning heat to reach, moreso now that it was summer. Avis imagined the winter months - surely there would be snow, and ice, and frost atop the slippery rocks. Did the white goddesses even care, having already lived through a thousand lifetimes? Perhaps at the start, when they were children... if they had even been children... they might have gazed at the snow with starry innocence. Omniscience came with a burdensome price; it rendered the bearer cold to new, young things. What was there to be amazed by when one knew all there was to ever know? Sheba's pelt flickered with illusionary fire, kissed by the wind, turning her snowy fur vermillion. Somehow, Avis felt that Sheba already knew.

The question was but a courtesy.

Regardless, it was her duty to humour it. After all, she was only mortal. Who was to say death would be the same again?

"I have come," Avis began, and for a moment, she seemed far older than her physical face belied. "To ask for Flame." Sheba already knew. Why else would her fur have changed so? It could have been coincidence, could have been simple magic... but it was more than likely the deity wanted to make a point. And here was the thing: there was no pattern, with gods. Rule 1: The gods do not care; to them, we are mere insects. Avis knew this better than most. She met the deity's gaze steadily; it seemed to her that Sheba was a woman who did not appreciate minced words, or superfluous flattery.

"You know me, inside and out." Everything she ever was. Everything she would ever be. It was a recurring theme with immortals, both at home and here. "You know what I once was." Her gut curled at the loss. She remembered fire coming to her as easily as the sun set and rose. The sun, whom the wolves of her homeland had fallen; the moon, whom they had drained. "There is no veiling it." Then came the request, simply worded, more than she could ever say, more than she could ever convey. "So I ask for it again." No begging. No wailing. Just quiet, still, calm.

Avis' head dipped, eyes fixated on the stone beneath her paws. There was a chance she would walk away with nothing - but that could not be helped. She could only hope for the best; she did not know this land's gods as well as she knew its inhabitants. She seemed particularly weary in that instant, before the emotion was chased away with a slight flick of her ears. Her gaze rose to meet the white wolf's again, only simple deference in them.

"What is your verdict, Sheba?" Even without affixing a title to the name, in her foreigner's accented tone, the name rang with intent. Avis had said more in five minutes today, than in hours with others... But as always... so it was with gods. It always was, with gods.

speech

OOC: rip my muse

IMAGE BY ANTHONY CANTIN ON UNSPLASH

[Meds]

Sheba;

But of course a wolf kissed by fire would want a piece of that flame for herself. Sheba stayed still as Avis spoke, the vines curling around her den now shriveling and forgotten. Avis spoke what she wanted, and was confident enough with it to her credit. Sheba withheld a smile. Oh but she thought she had gods all figured out, didn't she? Sheba supposed that having once been a god herself, her assumptions were fair. But there was one key piece to her imaginings that she had forgotten.
When applying rules to gods, one had need of remembering that sometimes, no rules applied. Yes, Avis had brushed on that thought within her mind—but only about the dying part. Dying was but a speck of dust on Sheba's shoulder. She did not even spare dying the time to consider. What was dying, when at that very moment Sheba could stretch her mind a thousand years in any direction, watch as humans prattled around in their mechanical contraptions, spoke over coffee, and argued about silly things so deep within tomorrow that the wolves of the valley would never live to even dream of such things.
And yet here they were.
No, dying was but a word to Sheba. She was so, so far removed from anything of the sort that it was barely even a blip on her radar.
Even with Avis Wren's most current rule, she was wrong—to a point. Sheba cared greatly for the mortals of the valley—but only the neutral, and only to a point. She gifted them, and thought of them, and visited them in dreams when they required it... but she did not care or them enough to destroy those which her sisters cared about. If Sheba truly cared, she would turn all of the good and evil wolves to dust. And she did not. But she did hold a special place within her vast being for all of those aligned with her...
Though only to a point.

"What is your verdict, Sheba?"
Sheba's thoughts re-centered on the present moment, leaving the humans to their problems a thousand years away. The female was watching her—respectively so—but watching her none the less.

"My verdict..." Her voice came after a beat of silence, a silence so impossible, and so deep, that had she not spoken, Avis surely would have drowned in it. She blinked, her eyes shifting red, white, purple. Her verdict was, in fact, that Flame was boring. Every wolf wanted Flame, and Sheba giving them out was even more rare than Geist doing so. But what of this wolf, one who had known the kiss of fire before? One who had been so connected to it as Avis had been... Was she worth making an exception for? Ah, but Flame, Geist had just given Flame to a creature not two days past. Could the Valley withstand two fire-wielders once more?
Sheba began speaking out loud again, but Avis would not be able to focus on it, for a little voice inside of her head, Sheba's own, would speak louder than the words coming out of her physical mouth.

"Flame calls to you...A valiant gift. Dangerous, powerful—once the ruin of the Valley. Are you worthy of jeopardizing the home of my neutral souls? The Ashwood Grove did not get its name for no reason... Though I believe you to know the limits of such a gift... ah, but what of Inferno?" The little voice whispered.
Slowly Avis body would heat up, at first only slightly noticeably, and then ten-fold. Her blood pressure would rise, the saliva in her mouth would dry up. Up and up her temperature would go, rolling out of her in visible waves of shimmering heat. Images of igniting other wolves on fire by touch would penetrate her mind, creatures running from her approach, burning, burning, screaming... an at the head of it all, Avis—white-hot, like the White Wolves themselves—and all would know of her burning wrath...
And then the vision would cease, her temperature would return to normal.
Sheba continued speaking about the weather, but her eyes were locked on Avis, all-knowing and all-powerful.

"Combustion?" Whispered the voice.
High above them on the cliff-wall, an earth-shattering boom suddenly rocketed through the air. The ground beneath their feet shook, smaller pieces of rock cascading down upon them. The explosion was so loud that birds took flight in fear down the length of the mountain. Across the valley, past its borders, prey animals were spooked and stampeded off in their herds. The thunderous sound was so loud, so intense, that for a moment the very fiber of what Avis knew would shift, and a vision of the Ethereal Realm would flash past her eyes. Clouds, mist, shapeless beings, all highlighted by the sound of the drum. Visions of Avis' own father riding on his shadows would swim past her eyes, in and out of the darkness he would bend, whispering, whispering, but what was he saying? His words could not be heard past the endless thunder...
And then Avis would be back, and just in time, for at that moment a piece of mountain the size of impossibility would come screaming down the cliff side.
Highlighted by further thunder, the piece of the world blocked out the sun as it tumbled toward them. It fell and it fell, crashing and breaking, hissing down the side of the mountain and leaving a gouge in the rock behind it. It gained speed, seemed to grow, falling and falling... until at the very last moment before it would crush her, it would hit an invisible barrier mere inches from Avis' form.
The impact was enough to take a mortal's breath away. The nightmare piece of rock exploded into thousands of pieces above the barrier, and the dust rose to form a cloud above them as if they sat in twilight. The darkness thickened as the dust continued to rise, and through it all sat Sheba, talking and talking about a bird she had seen, just the other day.

"What is your verdict, young one?"

[L]

AVIS WREN

"Flame calls to you...A valiant gift. Dangerous, powerful—once the ruin of the Valley. Are you worthy of jeopardizing the home of my neutral souls? The Ashwood Grove did not get its name for no reason... Though I believe you to know the limits of such a gift..."

Was she worthy? For a moment, she weighed the implications of Sheba's statement. The goddess questioned her worth - but it went deeper than that. It questioned all she ever had been, all that she had ever possessed. Even with her prior experience, with the finesse she'd once held, Sheba still questioned how much she deserved to re-hold that strength once again. And almost immediately, Avis knew the answer.

It wasn't her place to decide. It wasn't her place to say whether she was worthy or unworthy, because it wasn't her decision to make. If she said she was unworthy - well, there went her chance, and she would have tossed away everything she'd put into this trip. The offerings, the significance of the gifts, would all be for naught. But then again, they already lay at Sheba's feet, nearly forgotten in the moment. And if she said she was worthy, then who was she to claim as such? It would be foolhardy arrogance to do so; even at home, power was not big enough a lure to tempt arrogance.

"...but what of Inferno?"

It came gradually, like the edging buildup of a tsunami wave - and then all at once, crashing down upon her, her body set aflame by the heat of a thousand blazing suns. The fire flooded by her - no, through her - filling her very bones with liquid flame, replacing the marrow within with lava. She was a volcano, unheeded, rampant in her destruction. Wolves fell at the touch of her presence, already burning from her heat. She exuded raw, untamed power. She was unstoppable. She was a god.

But that was not the kind of power she wanted. It was exactly as many wolves envisioned the power of flame, a living, breathing creature manifested from the fire. And it was out of control, unleashed, and wild. It was danger in its purest form - a flame that could not be extinguished. She was burning from within, consumed by the depravity of her own strength. It was a power only snuffed out by death. Her death. Without knowing the full extent of such strength, Avis knew that if she was tempted by Inferno, it would end only one way.

Unpleasantly.

No.

The scene changed.

"Combustion?"

Peals of thunder shook the air. The ground trembled under her steps, booms resounding with ever foot she set upon the soil. Fire rocketed across the arid plains, sparked into being by the sheer force of her power. Animals scattered in her presence. Shadows roiled across the fields, the image of her own father pulled into existence. He drew nearer, nearer, nearer, seeming whispering above the thunderous noise. And yet, she could not hear him, whether it be Sheba's doing, or her own inability to remember what he might say. It was all an illusion, after all. And then death came herself to meet Avis, screaming her claim as rocks tumbled towards her, a massive boulder careening down the mountain slopes. She met it head on - there was no escaping its path; somehow, innately, she knew that she would go out destroying this last thread, giving her own life as the final explosion in this grand chain. But the rock shattered above her, smashed against the crystal of an invisible barrier. It rose into the sky, blocking out the sun. And through it all, was the unmoving, still form of Sheba, almost glowing white and pure amidst the ruins.

Sheba should died. But it was not real, and she was a god.

"What is your verdict, young one?" Her voice filtered through the chaos. And somehow, Avis found it within her breathless lungs to respond. "Flame."

There was destruction all around them. And yet, neither one had a single hair out of place. "Inferno is an unstoppable fever." A breath. "No way out but death." Blink. "Combustion is volatile, easily set off." Breathe. "Uncontrollable." Blink. Oh, one could say the same of Flame - but it was fire in its purest form, and most of all, it afforded the most control. She had the most experience with base fire. And the unspoken distaste for wild power - no, Inferno and Combustion were tempters to those who hungered for unimaginable strength. They would crave more, and more, and more, until they killed themselves in the pursuit for greatness.

No. One had to master Flame, not let Flame wield the leash.

""

OOC: really cant be bothered to strain my eyes reading my own text today LOL

TABLE BY L || IMAGE FROM GLEB KOZENKO ON UNSPLASH

[Meds]

Sheba;

Still?
After that show?

She still sought to claim what four other wolves had claimed from the gods that very same day? Of course, days were relative when one could visit yesterday and tomorrow at the blink of an eye—but still.
Boring. Boring, boring, boring.

Sheba's eyelids drooped slightly, and her gaze flicked upward to the dust settling from the rock. Even in her great ears, she could still her the echoing of the mountain as it had fallen. So it was to be Flame... Sheba considered the female, turned her eyes back and sized her up. She could offer it to her freely, ah, but what was the fun in that? Fire was a gift of Geist—why not play games like Geist did, too? Take an eye here, maybe save a foot for a snack later... If she did give Avis her wish... what would she take in return?
Sheba glanced down at the offerings Avis had brought, but did not seek to move toward them.
Flame was the least of the fire gifts. The least reason to bend her own rule. Combustion—Avis considered it volatile. Ah, but she was wrong. The finesse required to make such things so... but no, Sheba wouldn't waste breath on that. And of Inferno, well. Avis immediately saw her own demise, rather than everything she could do in the mean-time. Leave it to an ex-god to fear their death. No, her mind was made up. Sheba's was, too. She had seen the way this interaction would go—but sometimes a god just had to play out the inevitable to keep the silence at bay.

"So be it," Sheba said, her eyes melting to black pits, void of all colour. She did not smile, as she was wont to do. No. In that moment, Sheba was all smiled out. Gifts of fire were but rare, even from the sister with ash in her veins. The highest-sought, and least given. This was what Avis chose for herself above all else. Sheba tilted her head slowly, her black eyes dripping out a black tar, almost like tears, but an endless stream. The substance pooled at her feet but did not stain her perfect fur. When the tar hit the rocks, it changed colour. Suddenly it was made of a shifting red, white, yellow, blue, and though it was definitely still a puddle—flames were present there.

"I am disappointed. Do not make me regret this. I've snuffed out Flames before."

And she was gone. All Avis had to do was but drink the tar-and-fire tears of the goddess, and she would be blessed.

Congratulations! As soon as Avis drinks the substance on the rocks, she will be the latest bearer of level 1 Flame. Be careful not to overstep the powers boundaries.