universalis | IC: EVENT

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IC: EVENT

A TERRIBLE THING IS HAPPENING

reference books detailing myths and legends stolen from libraries...
wikipedia pages wiped clean from the face of the internet...
ancient stained glass windows smashed and destroyed...
historical research centers burnt to the ground...

Someone out there is trying very, very hard to erase all of the possible sources of power and belief of the ancient gods and goddesses. And it hurts. Whilst the powers of the minders are unharmed by the attacks, the gods and goddesses will be certainly feeling the toll: it's now painfully clear that even the simplest of miracles are now becoming almost impossible to perform.

deities, you had better have gifted your minders with some decent blessings! Because now you're going to rely on them more than ever. Someone is out to get you.

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[ That's just your opinion, Thoth. But then, Set has always had that pride. Centuries of being kicked down, villainized, and stripped of his worship haven't quite beaten it out of him. He also has something of a temper, if understatements are the name of the game.

Set feels the magic, lets his hand come away from it to rub it between his fingers like the dust clinging to the wrappings. Seemingly dismissive, he continues his way over to the scribe, as if to peer at what the other god had been interested in before. ]

You're probably right. There is a sort of grudge match to be had, isn't there?

[ And yet, here he is. That he walks across the hieroglyphs with no hesitation is either recklessness or something else; it should mean something, anyway. He gives that artifact its due glance when he's near enough to it (and Thoth) before turning his attention to the ibis. A tan hand lifts between them, and those dark eyes glitter a little, but it's his own throat he rests his hand at. ]

Always such a stiff collar. It could be the end of the world, you know...

[ Thoth has been witness to that temper more than once. He was the one who gave Isis the words to resurrect Osiris, so that she might have Horus. When Set fought with the others, he healed them both so that Chaos and Order would remain even.

Of course, Set sometimes had his image replaced by Thoth when he was villainized, but that was hardly his fault. ]

Something of the sort, yes.

[ Chaos incarnate, and Set wanders across the museum floor instead of being elsewhere. It makes Thoth wonder. ]

I'm well aware. Hardly the one anyone thought we would have, but yes, it could end us.

[ The artifact that Thoth examined is little more than some bits of papyrus. Even now, his attention is drawn to words. ]

You have been quiet throughout the whole thing. I must admit, I'm a bit surprised.

[ Politics. He couldn't hold much of a grudge over Thoth for it... well, maybe a bit, but not enough that it wouldn't be overruled by the fact that the ibis had preserved him. Indeed, were it not such a clever bird, the moon would have never allowed his conception.

Set's lips twitched briefly at the mention of his quietness, but he shrugged, stepping away from the bit of scrap with nary a backward glance. These things didn't interest him, held no reverence to a thing that seemed to bare no love, if not for himself. Even now, the god of the wasteland was flopping into the throne of Egypt as if it were any other chair, stretching his legs to drape over the arm. ]

Just because I said nothing doesn't mean I did nothing.

[ Set draws his mobile from his pockets, idly thumbing at the screen, wrapping his attention around it instead of the pharaohs of old and their minder. ]

Or do you mean to say you thought I should have a hand in its creation?

[ A tilt of a dark brow, but he doesn't glance over. ]

[ Not politics, not for him. Duty, perhaps. Balance is far more likely. It's the same reason he said nothing when he knew something would happen to an angel -- because what had been seen would come to pass.

The throne of Egypt hardly holds as much significance to them as it once did. Pharaohs were gods on earth, but no more. Thoth pays those politics little mind, save for making sure the balance is kept -- a harder and harder job, these days. ]

I would hardly think one of our own to be so foolish as to do nothing, even if they did think it was the end.

[ And he sighs, showing his age for once. Self-begotten, self-produced, he is older than most who share his company at any given time. ]

But I have been wrong before.

[ In this case, he hopes he is not. It has, perhaps, never mattered more.

There's a bit of a quirk to his lip, and the age vanishes. If they didn't know they were gods, if the magic and power he held weren't obvious even now, he might even look like any other man. ]

If you did, you are hardly getting any credit for it.

[ Foolish. One corner of his lips curl into a little smirk. He idly taps a message into the console. ]

Just visiting, really. A little jackal told me you were all by your lonesome.

[ He was almost hoping to see another little birdy, playing hero, but so it goes. ]

I've got my thumbs on a few sweet spots. Set up a few outside too, if humans can be counted for anything.

[ He reaches out, blindly swats a mummy with a languid air. But then: ]

...Tact is not my strongest attribute.

[ This will be apparent when he sends out the message, doing so with nary a second thought. His head lolls to view the arbiter, and there may be a certain pain there. ]

That was always your gift, Thoth.

[ And here it is: he is a weapon. A good one. But like any weapon, he is nothing ( too much ) without a hand to guide it. ]

Did he, now.

[ Thoth sounds thoughtful, but then, when doesn't he? Whether Set spoke with Anubis or not, the fact remains that he's here.

It's likely a good thing there's no other little birdy here to play with. ]

They can, at times. One is certainly helping Belial make a great mess of things.

[ If the message is written, then Thoth knows what it is. His eyes close for a moment, and he nods. ]

I suspect we will know, soon enough, if this is a target. As I said before, I don't think it is. But if it isn't...

[ Another slight smile, and this one is something Set may be more familiar with. Instead of the calm ibis, the long canines of a baboon. Thoth has always had an extraordinary temper when someone pushes enough to make him truly angry. ]

...then there will likely be some loose ends to clean up.

[ Grigori. Cronus. Surtr. It would, perhaps, be more prudent to let their own pantheons take them out... but Thoth doesn't like waiting if the balance is in question. ]

[ Set shifts slightly in his seat at the flash of fang, alight with silent intrigue. If it is... Chaos licks its lips. ]

How long?

[ Set doesn't like waiting. At all. His energy hangs around like a musk, muscles cording as he slowly rolls in the throne. ]

And what, until then?

Until we hear some news.

[ They are strong here, surrounded by desert sand. This is their home. If they want to use magic and technology to discover what is happening in the other cities, then the boost this place grants them and two powerful gods working together should be enough to discover what is happening elsewhere. ]

There is nothing stopping us from seeking it out while remaining here.

[ And perhaps, if the news is favorable, they can leave early. If not -- well, perhaps they may need to go somewhere as backup. ]

[ This is their home. As much as it's changed, some things never have. Taming the desert is a task not yet surmounted by even the most capable hands. Not so easily destroyed as the trees to the north and the south. Their temples have been revered for the feat of strong backs and cold hearts, or otherwise preserved by the wasteland. Without the lore of them living on, though, it will not be much of a living. Even if worship was so thin, if nonexistent in the way of their names, recognition was important.

They could leave if they wanted. Set would be able to draw power off of the panic and disarray, if not the nightfall, just as Thoth could take shelter in any library, but it was a watered-down thing compared to being here. ]

I wouldn't depend on the generosity of others.

[ He stirs, though, climbing from the throne to stand and approach the scribe once more. ]

Let's begin.

[ There is another pause, and Thoth looks at the other god -- really looks at him -- before smiling, taking a step forward to (quickly) embrace Set. ]

Let's.

[ He draws back then, pulling out his phone before crouching down, beckoning at Set to crouch with him. The moonlight continues to filter in, casting shadows from Thoth onto the walls -- ibis-headed, baboon-headed, and man. The phone will be how they see, as water and mirrors have been other times in other places. ]

There are four places, to my understanding. The Mogao Caves, Damascus, Rome, and Jerusalem.

[ There is much to see there, at least in ratio of body to power. A frenetic and dark energy, folded a countless number of times into a relatively small vessel, clawing and sparking with potential. Not as great as it could have been, but considerable, and delicately contained. When Thoth wraps his arms around it, there is a stiffening and stillness. Set was no stranger to physical touch, but affection was a foreign concept to him, something baffling and disconcerting. His response is a soft grunt, definitely not any sort of whimper. Luckily, he doesn't have to examine it long, because Thoth lets him go and drops to the floor. If Set stood a moment longer, nevermind.

He sinks onto his haunches, bowing his head over the device with a resolute focus. The long, sloping snout of his shadow crosses over the shade of a beak, squared ears barely touching the brow of the baboon. ]

Damascus or Jerusalem would be where I'd place my bet. Most personal, most... popular.

[ He is briefly amused with himself, thinking of the rage that have worked over those areas, particularly Jerusalem. Some of the history of the Hebrews was here as well, though none so consequential as that Holy Land.

Set's hands hovered just outside of the phone, calling strength from the shadows and the sand twisting outside on the cold wind and letting it clot in the air around him like a small swarm. ]

[ There are many who fear Set, but Thoth is not one of them. Chaos has its place in this world, and he knows it. It is his duty to know it, to keep it in the world and keep it from overwhelming order. Perhaps the embrace was his own contribution, a little bit of chaos inflicted on the god of chaos -- but it's far, far more likely that he meant it, even though he has never been the most physically affectionate of the gods. ]

We know the other two are targets. Damascus is likely, Jerusalem a hunch based on a hunch -- but I agree.

[ Brown eyes flicker over to the shadows cast on the wall. It's enough to make him smile for a moment, at least until he looks back at the phone and brings his hands closer, fingertips nearly touching those of the other god. ]

Let us begin.

[ There is history here, words that he has written as the true Author. The moon is his as well, and perhaps the fact that its light is what is casting the shadows Set draws from will make this work even better than they could have hoped. When he closes his eyes, he can feel the minders left behind in his library, working, believing in him. Magical energy curls around him like a pair of wings, and he speaks the Old words, trusting Set to push his own magic into it, to speak with him.

The phone crackles to life, and on the screen are Lucifer and his minders and the grigori that were waiting for him. ] That is Damascus. It seems Morningstar has company. [ But grigori are not what he's concerned with. Jerusalem next, more words to be spoken, and Thoth lets out a soft, breathy 'ah' of satisfaction. ] There he is. It seems we would be a crowd.

[ Set does not look away from the device, though his dark lashes may have lowered just a fraction. His minders were outside, checking the placements of the sentinels, making certain there was enough firepower to keep an intruder at least at bay for the moment it would take to alert the gods. Ready to fight and to die, the only thing Set had ever demanded of them.

He does speak with Thoth, and his voice is the wind that wraps around those who travel long into the night across a land so vast it makes a man know his true place in the world, helping to turn those pages. It is not the beast who crept at the edge, the exile and the ugliness of men, but the one who brandished the blade to cut the head off that which would devour the Sun, the one who raised the ladder and ushered wayward souls to their rightful place. The Old tongue is an old robe and he does not falter, lilting in some places, growling in others. He gives this to Thoth, this bit of order in trade for his chaos. It is the balance.

His eyes scan the screen hungrily, taking in the battle which was soon to come. Grigori? Nothing. Belial didn't look like much on the screen either, but there were three gods on his tail and he was shaking them admirably. He restrains a snort, seeing the corpses of old souls pooling out of Jerusalem, echoing the cadre of pharaohs in the museum. ]

Our lives, left in the hands of the Greeks and the Hebrews, Thoth. Are you content with that? Overkill may be better than no kill.

[ Says the arms dealer, the one who not only dismembered his brother, but scattered the pieces of him as far as they could be flung. ]

I believe we're supposed to call them Judeo-Christians now.

[ It's said almost absentmindedly. Is he content with it? No. But there is more to do than to fight with Belial, and something tells him that it is not his part to play. He has played many parts in this so far.

He's almost weary of it, save for the legendary hidden temper that makes him want to put an end to it all. ]

Overkill would hardly be any fun.

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IC: EVENT

He has his vanity, feel free to judge him

I just want to lick him.

He'd like it way too much, though a bite is better.

omnomnom

o bby that's the spot

:3 awwwyeah

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