A Sisters Tale

‘behold, sister, the lie that makes itself true’ and other cool destiny sentences | accepting!

@youngdragoncrestring

Heysel clicked her tongue, concentrated on spanning her crossbow. It’s a sound of noncommittal approval.

“Well, that’s… a way to see it, I suppose! So you’re a god now? We sure haven’t seen each other in some time, then! Terribly rude of you, however, to not invite me to your god-making feast. You know I like parties!”

Leona was an odd woman. Heysel had lived moderately long, and met many a weird person, and yes, she’d be the first to admit herself was no doubt eccentric in a manner or another, but Leona was a specific cut of strange. There was an incomprehensible, unpredictable quality to her character that kept Heysel tense, waiting and waiting always for something to happen, sudden and out of blue. Right now as well. Because she had no idea of what to do with the information she was giving her.

Heysel liked it best when she was the only unpredictable fiend in the room with a penchant for remorseless violence.

“Where’s your shrine, miss?” the Finger continued, cheerful, now placing the bolt to take aim at a distant figure slowly trudging through the swamp’s shallow waters. Her breath halted. One eye closed, her view narrowing to a focused point. “Just tell me and I’ll offer what you wish! I’ll be your priestess for a day only. For the humble… price… of… Now!”

A clack! followed. The protest of mechanisms in motion. The bolt whistled, cutting the air as it flew, fast and far --- and then struck the figure in the distance. The man screamed, flailing, agonizing.

“...What was I saying? Oh! Yes. Offerings! You’d be a goddess of what, now? Can’t pick offerings without knowing what you are the patron of! I mean, I think you now could be the goddess of anything really – not many gods remaining! No competition for you. Take your title and bolt. Haha! Bolt. Get it.”

She tapped her crossbow, meaningfully. The faraway man kept screaming.

She supposed she just valued the second opinion of another scholar.

“A god? Not sure-”, she sighed and stretched her back. “just immortal I think. Don’t know where that begins and godhood ends, you know? Gods can be killed after all...” With a giggle bordering on unhinged she recalls the look of pure horror on Aldrichs stolen visage as the Flame from below ate away on his body and being. Delicious, delicious terror had been written so deeply into his core and then turned to nothing but ashes. “I mean, Gwyn died, didn’t he? Means that Gods aren’t immortal. Dragons weren’t either. So, question is... what does that make me?”

The screaming from below made her shudder, a smile fleetingly travelling over her lips. “Good aim. These hot shots seem to be a bother this time of the day, eh?”

“And my shrine? If I had one, it be something small to travel with. Never liked the necessity to stay near a temple. So... unflexible.” Leona paused. “Guess if I had to choose it’d be... hmm... Masks. Lots and lots of masks. After all-” she turns to Heysel fully, grinning ear to ear. “There are no mortals who aren’t wearing one, even if it is made of flesh.”

“And no competition for now! I fully expect for new ones to pop up. Every new cycle brings new Heroes who turn into Legends who turn into Gods. Wait and see.” “Rosaria, yes. Another immortal one with unconventional means to be so. Technically she gave me the idea for how I made it. But- my way didn’t turn me into a cripple... No offense. But I wasn’t going to sacrifice anything, not that much of a committer you see? Always keep a way out open, just in case.”

“I can play the Harp! I’ll join!”

“Tell him Patches did it.”