09-06-2019, 11:50 AM
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-family: Verdana; font-size: 12px; color;"]Mortals.
The way that word rolled off her tongue – so casual, so indifferent – was enough to dismiss the rest of Etherealgate's worries, sending them spiraling away into the far reaches of her mind. She had a new puzzle before her, one that was perhaps as divine (or maybe more so) as she was. It was clear that Dovedeparture did not see herself as a regular individual, similarly to how Eth saw herself as a reaper. Gatekeeper. And celestial heritage? That was fascinating. Incredibly so.
She had to soothe the flair of excitement that had sparked in her chest, trying to remain as impassive as possible lest the snowy lynx detect some change in her mood. She schooled her features into a mask of indifference, the tip of her long, rosetted tail twitching almost nonchalantly. "I suppose we both came from places vastly different than this Typhoon," She mused, her hoarse voice barely above a whisper. Those wings. Her use of the phrase "celestial heritage". Her regard to "mortals". Eth nearly had to swallow down a laugh. Of course there was a reason why she looked practically angelic. That had to be it. She didn't know any other explanation.
Her training had included teachings on the various divine helpers. Angels, demons, and her own class: the reapers. She had never run into an angel or a demon though, especially considering they existed in different realms than her own. One dominated the heavens. The other, the various dimensions of hell. And then there was her: stuck in this in between plane of existence. Alive. Delicate. And so very mortal. She felt another tinge of jealousy.
"And is Celestialrobbery divine as well?" She remembered her clearly, the firecracker that seemed to ignite Dove's quiet night. It wasn't her knowledge to know, but Etherealgate had always been hungry for secrets. Secrets gave her strength and none more than her own.
Gatekeeper. That blessed, terrible, wonderful, awful word. Hearing it on the lips of another sent a chill down her spine. Not many knew what she was until the end had already come. She was not a face welcomed by the sick, the frail, the dying. "I assist newly passed souls," She begrudgingly admitted, careful to phrase her words in a delicate enough way to not draw suspicion to her true occupation. Assist was a far fairer way to put judgement and she was sure that a being such as Dove would be able to piece together her real identity with a simple enough slip of the tongue. She had to be wary. "Even now, I can hear them: the whispers from the dead. They seek guidance and advice. My organization is said to be descendants of Charon, the ferryman. We have divinity in our blood, but even our lives are as brief as the flame on a candle. I'm mortal and I'm not. I will always exist in an in between." Her blessing and her curse. She would never know an afterlife. She would never know peace. It exhausted her just to think about that.
"But a deal's a deal, celestial one," She insisted, her voice laced with a note of flatness, "I have my suspicions but I want to hear it from your mouth. What are you, Dovedeparture?"
The way that word rolled off her tongue – so casual, so indifferent – was enough to dismiss the rest of Etherealgate's worries, sending them spiraling away into the far reaches of her mind. She had a new puzzle before her, one that was perhaps as divine (or maybe more so) as she was. It was clear that Dovedeparture did not see herself as a regular individual, similarly to how Eth saw herself as a reaper. Gatekeeper. And celestial heritage? That was fascinating. Incredibly so.
She had to soothe the flair of excitement that had sparked in her chest, trying to remain as impassive as possible lest the snowy lynx detect some change in her mood. She schooled her features into a mask of indifference, the tip of her long, rosetted tail twitching almost nonchalantly. "I suppose we both came from places vastly different than this Typhoon," She mused, her hoarse voice barely above a whisper. Those wings. Her use of the phrase "celestial heritage". Her regard to "mortals". Eth nearly had to swallow down a laugh. Of course there was a reason why she looked practically angelic. That had to be it. She didn't know any other explanation.
Her training had included teachings on the various divine helpers. Angels, demons, and her own class: the reapers. She had never run into an angel or a demon though, especially considering they existed in different realms than her own. One dominated the heavens. The other, the various dimensions of hell. And then there was her: stuck in this in between plane of existence. Alive. Delicate. And so very mortal. She felt another tinge of jealousy.
"And is Celestialrobbery divine as well?" She remembered her clearly, the firecracker that seemed to ignite Dove's quiet night. It wasn't her knowledge to know, but Etherealgate had always been hungry for secrets. Secrets gave her strength and none more than her own.
Gatekeeper. That blessed, terrible, wonderful, awful word. Hearing it on the lips of another sent a chill down her spine. Not many knew what she was until the end had already come. She was not a face welcomed by the sick, the frail, the dying. "I assist newly passed souls," She begrudgingly admitted, careful to phrase her words in a delicate enough way to not draw suspicion to her true occupation. Assist was a far fairer way to put judgement and she was sure that a being such as Dove would be able to piece together her real identity with a simple enough slip of the tongue. She had to be wary. "Even now, I can hear them: the whispers from the dead. They seek guidance and advice. My organization is said to be descendants of Charon, the ferryman. We have divinity in our blood, but even our lives are as brief as the flame on a candle. I'm mortal and I'm not. I will always exist in an in between." Her blessing and her curse. She would never know an afterlife. She would never know peace. It exhausted her just to think about that.
"But a deal's a deal, celestial one," She insisted, her voice laced with a note of flatness, "I have my suspicions but I want to hear it from your mouth. What are you, Dovedeparture?"