RP There's Life Underground


“Know the shrines you speak of. This one, different. Hard to explain. Made of dead things, yes, but a statue of HIS form. Not like the Shrines of which you speak. You… know of the shrines, though this is your first time here? She has told you? Or you have seen them elsewhere.” The last part wasn’t a question. Mikulass tucked his wings back into place, letting his head lull a bit as he thought.

He gave off the aura of thought, of concentration. Then, his head snapped back up, and he looked at Jupiter, directly, his eyes all focused on the man for just a moment. Then he looked away as if he had made a choice. He sighed and shook his eyeless head, chittering.

“Assumed the shrines, naturally occurring here. Places of worship, They form from the Sphere like, ahhh, limbs? Do not know the word in this language. You have them in your world? Where you live? Must mean they are more, then. Shall investigate, if possible.” He fluffed his wings, and Pepper shot a look at Jupiter. It wasn’t one of concern or worry or anything negative. It was one of pure interest. She nodded her head thoughtfully as she remembered the instances of 1003-A and the singular 1003-D.

Mikulass’s conclusion wasn’t some wild guess, either. He had thought about it, thought about how they had an aspect of the Goddess where they came from. If they had seen the shrines before, that meant that there existed shrines to her in their world. It wasn’t a big leap to make. If shrines existed in both worlds, that clearly meant something. Mikulass wasn’t sure how much he could help with that, but he would do his best.
 
Jupiter was right, Mikulass did not have the equivalent of trees. He indicated his understanding with only a nod, however, because explanations would not be necessary.

“Annihilation created one, a living one, in our world.” He didn’t explain Annihilation, because Mikulass would know enough about it, and he wanted to express that he, too, understood. “Those who follow the Goddess in our world have attempted to create them, but they have all been dead when my people found them. The living one produced a Husk, which is now in the care of one of my fellow…”

He paused, not because he mistrusted Mikulass. Like Annihilation, Husk was a word they would both understand, one that Jupiter said more of through his silence than any explanation. Those who could sense his emotion did not find distrust there at all, only consideration. Structuring. Words had power, to some people, and he did not want these creatures to think of Strings as a lord of anything. He let the tension hang for a moment, before a better phrase crossed his mind.

“The Hanged Man, we can call him. His name bears power. Different power from the rest of us. Closer to Her power than mine. But he is an expert in such things as the Husk.”

Jupiter was not afraid of that power, any more than he was afraid of Hack’s power. But like the power that rested in Security, in reality-bending, or in Leviathan himself, Jupiter was wary of it. Aware and cautious, without real fear, because that power belonged to his people, and he trusted his people.

“The Goddess, in our world, calls those shrines That-Which-Binds. We will continue to investigate them, and if I can, I will send word of what we find.”

His curiosity was still held by the other shrine, but it didn’t seem relevant at this time. He could send other researchers later to investigate that. Motya and Neves both seemed to have a degree of rapport with Mikulass at this point. For now, he needed to focus on matters at hand.

“I have learned much from this meeting, Mikulass, High Priest of the Dead God.” He repeated the slight bow, hand over his heart. “If there is any knowledge you desire of me and mine in exchange for what I have learned from you and yours, or if there is more you believe I ought to know to continue containment and supervision of the Goddess as we know her, now is the best time for such. If there is something preferable in exchange, that, too, I have in my power to offer you. Within the boundaries of our shared interest, all that is mine is yours.”

That last may have been a generous offer elsewhere. But Mikulass, he sensed, was a particular kind of creature, a leader who was not eager for power so much as safety. Whatever he asked would be for the safety of his people, and in that sense he was no different from the Foundation. That, combined with vague wording, made many paths viable.
 

Mikulass listened raptly as Jupiter explained the shrines and their connection to the world that Pepper and her people came from. He nodded at the end of his explanation then listened to the generous offer for an exchange of information, or possibly material goods, and closed his eyes for a long moment. He put off waves of consideration before he opened all of his eyes again and focused them somewhere past Jupiter’s head.

“Nothing you have, would we like. We wish for you to take care of our Goddess.” The way he said it left no room for guessing. He looked over at Pepper, who looked back, a tender look on her face “Within your power? If not, then we require nothing of you. It is our pleasure to serve -Her- and to help those she brings to -us-.”

Pepper stepped forward, away from the crowd, and she carefully took the two large children off her shoulders, helping them back to their perches. They chirped softly, then one sang, a wordless song that was pleasing to the ear. They turned and moved their way back to their father’s side.

Then, she turned to Mikulass and she gave him a small bow. It wasn’t a full one, but it was enough that the entire flock went silent. All of their eyes focused on Pepper and Mikulass, the latter of whom had suddenly straightened out to his full height in surprise. “Your concern is welcome and appreciated, Mikulass. But I’m not sure that he can guarantee my safety. I don’t think anyone can. That’s… a hard ask.”
 
Jupiter lent Mikulass the space to consider the offer. He could not feel it lap in waves, the way the Denizens of the Sphere might; but feel it he did, and he was patient with it. Patient, too, as he listened to the priest’s request, patient as Pepper stepped forward and answered.

Something in the face that was not a face softened at the interchange between the pair, something he sensed few would witness to this degree, rarer even than the dance of welcome shared between them.

He stood beside the goddess and, despite the difference in their height, bowed to the same level she reached with no awkwardness to his heavy form. It was a fuller bow, more formal, but if not deferential, then at least of equals. She was his goddess; not in the same sense of his, or goddess, as she was to Mikulass; in the same sense that he was the Foundation, and the anomalous was theirs, just as Wallace was his, or L-14.

And so it was with honest gravity that he intoned, “We will do what is within our power to protect her as we protect our own.”

He rose, before Pepper, not intruding upon her bow so much as giving a small reflection. He met Mikulass’s eye, even if the priest could not meet his in return; only wanted it felt, not seen.

“Someday I hope –I– might bring my steps to –you– under other circumstances, Mikulass, high priest of our Pepper and well loved by her. Be well.”
 
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