A couple days after the monster attack, one of the local kids old enough to follow directions but not old enough to question them, came up to Gideon in the streets to shove a cloth wrapped bundle into her hands before running off like they were afraid of getting caught. Upon opening the bundle, Gideon would find a pair of sunglasses with wires that hook behind the ear. Included was a scrap of paper bearing handwriting:
She's too confused by the bundle thrust into her hands to think about giving chase. By the time she opens it up and finds both the gift and the note inside, that kid is long gone. She stares down at the note a while, lip slightly curled, vaguely entertaining the idea of throwing the glasses down and crushing them beneath her boot. But hey, when has she ever been given gifts before? The gift-giver might be a lanky, manipulative skank but...it's kind of thoughtful? Suspicious, but thoughtful.
After a moment, she crumples the note and discards it on the ground. She slides the sunglasses onto her face though, decides that Ianthe seeing her wearing them will count as thanks enough.
Food gets scarce in the boarding house from pretty much the moment they can no longer go outside. Everyone is rationing carefully, wary of how long the snow might last.
Despite this, on about the 8th Gideon will come back from the common area to find a lidded metal pan tucked secretively into her floor bedding, with four freshly laid eggs on a base of the straw that had been used to winterise the roof.
It's touching, honestly. Moreso than she's ever likely to admit. There's no note, sure, but she thinks she can hazard a guess as to where they might have come from.
She'll be careful to hoard these away entirely for herself. She needs the protein. That's what she tells herself, anyway.
If he'd wanted them shared out, he would have given them to Harrowhark.
Then, just six days later, she gets a message from him. He's been trying to avoid showing up in her head too much, but things are a little dire.
Kiriona. Gideon. Are you— I need your help. Please.
His strange way of communicating his thoughts doesn't quite carry the urgency, but each one feels halting and fractured, layered together unpleasantly like he said both her names at once. It lacks his usual poise or easy friendliness.
I was attacked. In my room, ground floor. The monster, it— escaped. I don't trust anybody else to assist me.
[He had her at please. She's a sucker for polite requests and assertions as to how much she's needed, something the Ninth House could so easily have capitalised on if they'd ever thought things through. Perhaps some of the urgency is lost over this weird form of communication, but there's also something in her lately, her desire to protect ramped up to intense degrees.
As such, her response is immediate.]
On my way.
[It's almost no time later that she's bursting into his room, eyes hot and hard, sword in hand.]
[ To Gideon, who was there for his rejuvenation from nothing but a pink mist, one of the problems must be immediately apparent; he's in a blood sweat trying to heal himself, pale and dizzy beneath the dappled red. The muscle House had stripped from his thigh has mostly returned to where it should, but the wound is still closing, the blood and gore around the room not yet back in his body. Though not all of it's his - the construct of flesh he tried to make from Bertie Rooster's remains is collapsed in a vile puddle of meat and black feathers.
He's barely clothed, grim modesty in the clutch of a ruined bedsheet, though he's hunting through the wreckage of an armour for a new pair of pants. ]
Sorry, just a sec.
[ A touch breathless as he pulls them on, covering up his thigh injury without even a wince. ]
I had it — I really thought I had it. And then it just teleported past the wards like they were nothing.
[Something about this scene is just plain wrong. The room is liberally splattered with gore, and yes the red, wet mess of the Emperor's thigh is steadily stitching itself back together, but a wound like that-- it ought to be healed by now. Maybe he'd been ripped into ragged pieces before she'd arrived, maybe the injuries had been so much worse than what she's seeing before her now...but this is a guy who'd zipped back together when he'd been little more than atomised particles. He'd done it like it was nothing, no signs of strain, no lagging weakness. Now he's dripping with blood-sweat like a regular necromancer and it's unnerving somehow-- but this isn't the time to try figuring things out. She’s still thinking with her muscles, here.
She's at his side in an instant, gaze carefully averted as he struggles into his pants. One hand still on her sword, the other goes for his shoulder before she can think better of it.]
I'll fucking kick its ass for it. [She says, and then, with a touch more bewilderment--] What can I do??
[ He doesn't shrug her off, just nods as if the question is a good one. Part of why he'd reached out had just been because if he hadn't had the motivation of not letting her see him looking pathetic he would have kept just lying there on the floor indefinitely. But now she's here and he has a use for her, as he always seems to. ]
We have to hunt it.
[ Even if he hadn't been exhausted by days of going flat out with the necromancy, he would need someone with a weapon and the ability to use it, because there's a lot that necromancy just can't do against the monsters.
He picks up a heavy coat, slings it over his arm, looks around for shoes. Explains the cold weather clothing: ]
I don't know if it's still inside - it can move through the walls using shadows. If it kills I'll be able to feel it, but if it doesn't — it walks, it has a cane, should leave prints in the snow. Let's start by checking the boarding house - did you hear anything on your way here?
[It has a cane nags at something at the back of her mind, threatens to rise more fully into her consciousness, but-- it's hard to think around her own flailing emotions at seeing him like this, at the surge of Wilk protectiveness and ownership that floods through her. Don’t touch her stuff. Don't touch her fucking stuff.
Right now, at least, hunt it is something she can understand, right down to the bones of herself.
She'll try to help him stand, lend her physicality wherever it's needed, and she's already nodding with grim determination and something a little wilder and fiercer than that as he carries on talking. She’ll hunt this fucker down, alright.]
I didn't hear anything, but I kinda had just the one thing on my mind at the time. If it leaves prints, we should start there. No prints outside, we'll know it's still inside.
[ It's a smart call, decisive in the moment, and it's hard not to feel just a twinge of pride at that quickness. Real leadership potential, his Kiriona.
He exhales hard at his first limping step but doesn't lean on her, forcing himself to walk through the pain in his healing thigh. ]
Hopefully I don't slow you down. Or would you be willing to let me siphon from you? Barely anything, you won't notice it.
[ A bit awkward, when she's Harrowhark's cavalier, but it would help a lot. ]
[There's a small, stupid thrill of pride in her in the wake of his praise, but luckily there's too much else going on for her to feel properly irritated by how easy she is to please. He's walking heavy, breathing hard, and it just isn't right--
--then his question comes and something finally clicks into place. He wants to siphon from her. Something he surely shouldn't need whilst connected to freezer barbie. Which can only mean that, right now, he isn't fully connected. She eyes him carefully, saying nothing of this new suspicion. It can wait until after they've hunted down the thing that caused all of this.]
Riiiiiight.
[She says it slow, and maybe that's enough to clue him in to her thought-processes here.
She's not his cavalier, but Harrow would want this, right? She wants this. He won't be much use in a fight in a weakened state.]
[ Did she get that reliability from nineteen years on the Ninth? She sure as fuck didn't get it from him. If there was ever any real possibility that Gideon was actually her dad he'd have to be a little concerned, because they have that same easy and dutiful willingness to be used. Battery up. For fuck's sake.
When he first makes the connection it's hard to be careful — she's so full of energy, and it feels right when he takes a little, even moreso than the burning sun of Alecto. Is this what all the others had had, in their cavaliers? Why Mercy still loved Cristabel after so much time?
But as much as he wants to metaphorically gulp down power, he doesn't use more than he needs to properly put himself to rights. If they encounter House's monster, or someone badly injured, he might need more, but for now he wants to be as gentle and considerate as possible. She isn't, after all, his cavalier. ]
Good stuff. Thanks. Let's go.
[ He won't actually ruffle her hair, but it's there in his voice, and he's not limping anymore. ]
[She's braced for it when it comes, the flayed-nerve ache of it, like someone's taken sandpaper to her soul. So it's a surprise, almost, when what she feels is...different. A needling sting at some place inside of her that she can't really name, a weird citrus-scouring that comes quick and cold and then gone again before she can fully process it. It's weird as hell, and not exactly a nice feeling-- but it's manageable.
She shakes herself - like a wolf shaking water from its pelt - but she doesn't miss so much as a step. Instead she's shouldering her bone-sword, focused on kicking some monster ass.]
On it.
[She'll stalk out into the corridor just a half-step behind him, watching his back but already poised to shove him behind her if she needs to.]
Dude, you mauled my necro my dad. Only I'm allowed to do shit like that. What makes you think dinner wouldn't come without a side-helping of ass-kicking?
Do forgive my intrusion, my name is Gilia St. Loe, She Who Sings the Ocean to Prosperity, which does not matter much to say that I am Prince Ianthe's wife.
I wanted to welcome you, as I understand you are family, and my people like to do so with gifts, especially of food. So, may I bring you something?
Yeah, that's right. It's just kinda endlessly grey where I'm from, you know? Weak-ass daylight, no weather to speak of, an artificial atmosphere, no trees and shit. Just lots and lots of nasty grey rock. The Ninth is pretty much the ass end of the solar system, and I lived in this underground catacombs down a deep drill shaft cut vertically into the planet. Even within the culture of the Nine Houses, I'm from a weird one. And that's saying something.
Reeaaally fucking boring. It did make a lot of things here seem very strange though, to begin with.
That is fascinating, I mean truly strange and awful to me, I must admit, but fascinating. I really had never had dreamed of life on... other ah - planets? But let what their differences must be.
Other kingdoms are certainly strange enough.
Well, I will bring you the meal tonight, are you in the boarding house?
If you ever decide to go on a tour of the universe, I suggest giving my whole galaxy a miss. Just to be on the safe side.
I'm splitting time between the boarding house and Ianthe's place, but let's make it the boarding house. That way I can dish the dirt on her without her listening in.
Man, do I have some juicy deets for you. See you tonight!
[Whenever Gilia arrives, Gideon will be ready to greet her. She's still dressed in her hunting attire, but it's clear that she's made an effort to clean herself up; no blood or dirt, hair freshly washed. Like she wants to make a good impression.]
[ Gilia is there at the door, food in hand, and under her arm in a basket, as she smiles in greeting. Tall as Gideon, to meet her in the eye evenly. In some ways, she is not so different to most Rubean women, dressing like them, but around her brow is a embroidered band that has two rings at her temples. ]
Master Gideon, it is an honour to meet you.
[ It's brief as an attempt, more so for all the food she is holding, but bobs her head in a curtsey-bow in respectful greeting. ]
The simplest is to say, something like - ah, 'my fellow', 'my country-man'.
[ The direct translation, anyway. ]
It is an informal, but polite way to refer to one of our land. All are born of the Sea, but we are the Children of it, so we call one another Son and Daughter-Sea. Or the commoner's like to shorten it to Sau-Sea or Dau-Sea.
Huh. Got it. And when you say born of the Sea, what does that mean?
[That she's ignorant of the ways of those from other worlds clearly doesn't embarrass her-- she's well aware that, to many here, her own place of origin is strange in the extreme.
They reach the door to the dining hall, and Gideon pulls it open with her free hand, stands aside to allow Gilia to enter ahead of her.]
Here we are. Although I guess you must have been here before.
That is a very old tale, but that when Land-Mother, one of the Great Spirits, tore herself apart in a great dance with Sea-Father, the shards of her fell into a thousand, thousand pieces. The Sea-Father took them all into the depths, and tended them there until they were strong enough to go out, and become all things of life. Some became the essence of a hundred other spirits, some became the trees and the hills and the valleys, and some became living beings, like you and I.
[ Which she has learned many times now, that when she talks of these things, there is a horrible habit of many other void-touched thinking she might mean allegorical, or something of faith, a story with no proof. ]
It is quite literal, before you ask. You can in fact meet - and talk, in a way - to the Great Spirits, that is Sea-Father, Sister-Fire and Air-Brother, though the easiest to speak with is the largest part of the Land-Mother that remains as three Dragons, known as the Shadow Dragons. As for myself, when I say I am Child of the Sea-Father, Daughter-Sea, I mean that inside of my soul, the sea resides, and I may take its form as gifted to from the ancient and holy bond my family shares.
[ With a polite nod, she set down the items on the table, laying them out more comfortably into the different dishes she had made for her. ]
[Gideon listens, and whilst it does kind of have the ring of a history lesson - she has always hated lessons of any sort unless they involve a sword - she pays attention regardless. She had asked after all.
She takes a seat at the table, not wanting to interfere with the laying out of dishes despite the urge to assist in some way-- this isn't really her forte, and she imagines Gilia has far more idea of what she's doing than she would herself.
She nods though, when the other woman finishes her description. There's nothing in Gideon's demeanour which suggests she took it as anything other than literal. There is - however - a note of understanding in her voice in response to the expectation that she might see it that way.]
Cool. I mean, the sea is kiiiiiinda terrifying if you ask me, but I do come from a place where there's no natural water supply. We used sonics to clean off, water was recycled and a highly rationed resource. So like, being made of the sea...or in the sea...sounds wild.
[Wild, but not impossible. She casts her gaze toward Gilia's face, offers her a knowing look.]
Not many people here have such a literal relationship with their origins, do they? But hey, I'm not about to question you. My dad is literally God, he resurrected all of the Nine Houses. He’s a real guy who walks about and talks and does dumb shit. You probably even met him? So I get it, is what I'm saying. I find it a whole lot crazier that some people worship gods or spirits they've got no evidence of.
[ She lays out all the plates of food she had made - truly, too much, because she could simply not help herself. Cuts of meat, breads and grains, vegetables roasted and seasoned. ]
... Spirits, I would go mad. No water? None at all?
[ Though, in the effort of keeping it all in good humour. Her opinions of John Gaius did not need to be brought up on a first meeting. ] We met, yes. But he has done you a great disservice in your learning. You are made of the Sea, too. All living things are.
Gideon eyes the array of delicious-looking food with unabashed desire, even as she nods in confirmation.]
Yeah, none at all. It's all just like...stone and bone and grit.
[She makes a face-- there's no love lost between her and the place she was raised.]
I dunno how I could be made from the sea though, you know? When there is no sea on the Ninth? I guess we weren't all resurrected on the Ninth, and it's been ages since the resurrection. Like, thousands of years. We're all just born now, mostly through incubation vats...but so far as I know, we came from the dust of dead worlds.
[ She could not think of anything so awful, but then Ianthe's stories always left her out of sorts - so it at least followed it would be just as unpleasant.
Her brows lift, then does not quite mean too, but she finds herself in baffled confusion and laughter. ]
Dust is one part of you - but do you not bleed, do you not sweat? Your spit, your tears. These are water that is with you. If you do not have water, do you not perish?
[ She gestures for Gideon to sit across from her, as she begins to serve out bits and pieces of food for her to try to figure out what she liked. ]
And these vats... are they like a woman's belly? For as I know it, it is water that cradles us born, it is the loss of that water that signals it is time for an infant to be born. Just like our ancestors, who as small creatures, left the ocean when it was safe and they were grown.
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Don't say I never did anything for you. - I.N.
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After a moment, she crumples the note and discards it on the ground. She slides the sunglasses onto her face though, decides that Ianthe seeing her wearing them will count as thanks enough.
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Food gets scarce in the boarding house from pretty much the moment they can no longer go outside. Everyone is rationing carefully, wary of how long the snow might last.
Despite this, on about the 8th Gideon will come back from the common area to find a lidded metal pan tucked secretively into her floor bedding, with four freshly laid eggs on a base of the straw that had been used to winterise the roof.
There's no note.
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She'll be careful to hoard these away entirely for herself. She needs the protein. That's what she tells herself, anyway.
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Then, just six days later, she gets a message from him. He's been trying to avoid showing up in her head too much, but things are a little dire.
Kiriona. Gideon. Are you— I need your help. Please.
His strange way of communicating his thoughts doesn't quite carry the urgency, but each one feels halting and fractured, layered together unpleasantly like he said both her names at once. It lacks his usual poise or easy friendliness.
I was attacked. In my room, ground floor. The monster, it— escaped. I don't trust anybody else to assist me.
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As such, her response is immediate.]
On my way.
[It's almost no time later that she's bursting into his room, eyes hot and hard, sword in hand.]
D- Emperor?
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He's barely clothed, grim modesty in the clutch of a ruined bedsheet, though he's hunting through the wreckage of an armour for a new pair of pants. ]
Sorry, just a sec.
[ A touch breathless as he pulls them on, covering up his thigh injury without even a wince. ]
I had it — I really thought I had it. And then it just teleported past the wards like they were nothing.
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She's at his side in an instant, gaze carefully averted as he struggles into his pants. One hand still on her sword, the other goes for his shoulder before she can think better of it.]
I'll fucking kick its ass for it. [She says, and then, with a touch more bewilderment--] What can I do??
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We have to hunt it.
[ Even if he hadn't been exhausted by days of going flat out with the necromancy, he would need someone with a weapon and the ability to use it, because there's a lot that necromancy just can't do against the monsters.
He picks up a heavy coat, slings it over his arm, looks around for shoes. Explains the cold weather clothing: ]
I don't know if it's still inside - it can move through the walls using shadows. If it kills I'll be able to feel it, but if it doesn't — it walks, it has a cane, should leave prints in the snow. Let's start by checking the boarding house - did you hear anything on your way here?
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Right now, at least, hunt it is something she can understand, right down to the bones of herself.
She'll try to help him stand, lend her physicality wherever it's needed, and she's already nodding with grim determination and something a little wilder and fiercer than that as he carries on talking. She’ll hunt this fucker down, alright.]
I didn't hear anything, but I kinda had just the one thing on my mind at the time. If it leaves prints, we should start there. No prints outside, we'll know it's still inside.
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[ It's a smart call, decisive in the moment, and it's hard not to feel just a twinge of pride at that quickness. Real leadership potential, his Kiriona.
He exhales hard at his first limping step but doesn't lean on her, forcing himself to walk through the pain in his healing thigh. ]
Hopefully I don't slow you down. Or would you be willing to let me siphon from you? Barely anything, you won't notice it.
[ A bit awkward, when she's Harrowhark's cavalier, but it would help a lot. ]
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--then his question comes and something finally clicks into place. He wants to siphon from her. Something he surely shouldn't need whilst connected to freezer barbie. Which can only mean that, right now, he isn't fully connected. She eyes him carefully, saying nothing of this new suspicion. It can wait until after they've hunted down the thing that caused all of this.]
Riiiiiight.
[She says it slow, and maybe that's enough to clue him in to her thought-processes here.
She's not his cavalier, but Harrow would want this, right? She wants this. He won't be much use in a fight in a weakened state.]
Battery up.
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When he first makes the connection it's hard to be careful — she's so full of energy, and it feels right when he takes a little, even moreso than the burning sun of Alecto. Is this what all the others had had, in their cavaliers? Why Mercy still loved Cristabel after so much time?
But as much as he wants to metaphorically gulp down power, he doesn't use more than he needs to properly put himself to rights. If they encounter House's monster, or someone badly injured, he might need more, but for now he wants to be as gentle and considerate as possible. She isn't, after all, his cavalier. ]
Good stuff. Thanks. Let's go.
[ He won't actually ruffle her hair, but it's there in his voice, and he's not limping anymore. ]
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She shakes herself - like a wolf shaking water from its pelt - but she doesn't miss so much as a step. Instead she's shouldering her bone-sword, focused on kicking some monster ass.]
On it.
[She'll stalk out into the corridor just a half-step behind him, watching his back but already poised to shove him behind her if she needs to.]
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Did he say he wants me there?
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[ John doesn't even know about it. ]
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Come down to the kitchen at 8.
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[She'll be there.]
Text;
Do forgive my intrusion, my name is Gilia St. Loe, She Who Sings the Ocean to Prosperity, which does not matter much to say that I am Prince Ianthe's wife.
I wanted to welcome you, as I understand you are family, and my people like to do so with gifts, especially of food. So, may I bring you something?
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And I will never say no to the gift of food.
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What do you prefer?
I just got a fresh rabbit that I was thinking of stewing, but I can make you something sweet if you prefer.
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[Good manners are hardly her forte, but at least she kind of asked this time.]
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Ianthe did tell me you were a little like my Knight. Likely to eat twice as much as another to keep strong.
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And yeah, I'm not gonna deny that. You've gotta stay fed to stay swole, you know?
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[ space sounds wild. ]
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Reeaaally fucking boring. It did make a lot of things here seem very strange though, to begin with.
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Other kingdoms are certainly strange enough.
Well, I will bring you the meal tonight, are you in the boarding house?
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I'm splitting time between the boarding house and Ianthe's place, but let's make it the boarding house. That way I can dish the dirt on her without her listening in.
[She's mostly joking]
action time??
[ such fancy things like 'electricity' and 'indoor plumbing'.]
Certainly, I want all the sordid details, of course. I will be by this evening then, if that suits?
action time!
[Whenever Gilia arrives, Gideon will be ready to greet her. She's still dressed in her hunting attire, but it's clear that she's made an effort to clean herself up; no blood or dirt, hair freshly washed. Like she wants to make a good impression.]
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Master Gideon, it is an honour to meet you.
[ It's brief as an attempt, more so for all the food she is holding, but bobs her head in a curtsey-bow in respectful greeting. ]
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Gideon is fine. I mean yeah, I'm totally badass and rightful heir to the Nine Houses but, you know...like, modest with it.
[She flashes a crooked grin, stands back from the doorway so that Gilia can enter.]
Want me to take anything? The dining hall thingy is pretty empty right now if you wanna go there, or my roommate is out if privacy is more your speed.
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[ But with the offer of help, she lifts up one bag to offer, that would help keep her hands free. ]
Likewise, titles I may have, but Gilia or Daughter-Sea is fine.
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She turns to begin leading them in the direction of the dining hall, casting her voice back over her shoulder as she goes.]
What's Daughter-Sea mean? Like, what's the meaning behind it? If you don't mind me asking.
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The simplest is to say, something like - ah, 'my fellow', 'my country-man'.
[ The direct translation, anyway. ]
It is an informal, but polite way to refer to one of our land. All are born of the Sea, but we are the Children of it, so we call one another Son and Daughter-Sea. Or the commoner's like to shorten it to Sau-Sea or Dau-Sea.
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[That she's ignorant of the ways of those from other worlds clearly doesn't embarrass her-- she's well aware that, to many here, her own place of origin is strange in the extreme.
They reach the door to the dining hall, and Gideon pulls it open with her free hand, stands aside to allow Gilia to enter ahead of her.]
Here we are. Although I guess you must have been here before.
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[ Which she has learned many times now, that when she talks of these things, there is a horrible habit of many other void-touched thinking she might mean allegorical, or something of faith, a story with no proof. ]
It is quite literal, before you ask. You can in fact meet - and talk, in a way - to the Great Spirits, that is Sea-Father, Sister-Fire and Air-Brother, though the easiest to speak with is the largest part of the Land-Mother that remains as three Dragons, known as the Shadow Dragons. As for myself, when I say I am Child of the Sea-Father, Daughter-Sea, I mean that inside of my soul, the sea resides, and I may take its form as gifted to from the ancient and holy bond my family shares.
[ With a polite nod, she set down the items on the table, laying them out more comfortably into the different dishes she had made for her. ]
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She takes a seat at the table, not wanting to interfere with the laying out of dishes despite the urge to assist in some way-- this isn't really her forte, and she imagines Gilia has far more idea of what she's doing than she would herself.
She nods though, when the other woman finishes her description. There's nothing in Gideon's demeanour which suggests she took it as anything other than literal. There is - however - a note of understanding in her voice in response to the expectation that she might see it that way.]
Cool. I mean, the sea is kiiiiiinda terrifying if you ask me, but I do come from a place where there's no natural water supply. We used sonics to clean off, water was recycled and a highly rationed resource. So like, being made of the sea...or in the sea...sounds wild.
[Wild, but not impossible. She casts her gaze toward Gilia's face, offers her a knowing look.]
Not many people here have such a literal relationship with their origins, do they? But hey, I'm not about to question you. My dad is literally God, he resurrected all of the Nine Houses. He’s a real guy who walks about and talks and does dumb shit. You probably even met him? So I get it, is what I'm saying. I find it a whole lot crazier that some people worship gods or spirits they've got no evidence of.
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... Spirits, I would go mad. No water? None at all?
[ Though, in the effort of keeping it all in good humour. Her opinions of John Gaius did not need to be brought up on a first meeting. ] We met, yes. But he has done you a great disservice in your learning. You are made of the Sea, too. All living things are.
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Gideon eyes the array of delicious-looking food with unabashed desire, even as she nods in confirmation.]
Yeah, none at all. It's all just like...stone and bone and grit.
[She makes a face-- there's no love lost between her and the place she was raised.]
I dunno how I could be made from the sea though, you know? When there is no sea on the Ninth? I guess we weren't all resurrected on the Ninth, and it's been ages since the resurrection. Like, thousands of years. We're all just born now, mostly through incubation vats...but so far as I know, we came from the dust of dead worlds.
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Her brows lift, then does not quite mean too, but she finds herself in baffled confusion and laughter. ]
Dust is one part of you - but do you not bleed, do you not sweat? Your spit, your tears. These are water that is with you. If you do not have water, do you not perish?
[ She gestures for Gideon to sit across from her, as she begins to serve out bits and pieces of food for her to try to figure out what she liked. ]
And these vats... are they like a woman's belly? For as I know it, it is water that cradles us born, it is the loss of that water that signals it is time for an infant to be born. Just like our ancestors, who as small creatures, left the ocean when it was safe and they were grown.