Ai's Story

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Goddess of Love, Lust, and Sexuality
Fairy Glade

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The Goddess of Love, lay back, watching her guests, indulged themselves her power. Some danced, most coupled up. Soft moans, and whimpers of euphoria floated about the room, along with incenses and and scented oils permated the air adding to her already potent power. She smiled softly, playing the hair of her avatar, Ashika, whole lay back against her chest, having already indulged with the Goddess herself was still reeling.

Ai, however, while a smile touched her lips, was elsewhere. She was supposed to have gone to the meeting with her Brother's and Sister's but was much too wrapped up in what she had been doing with the avatar, the thought of the meeting bored her. Ai did not like to be bored, in fact, she abhored it. She chuckled to herself causing Ashika -still breathless- to look up at her.

Ai merely shook her head and Ashkia lay back, losing her eyes, a pleasant satisfied smile on her face. Ai went back to her musing.
She was rarely ever alled upon for such matters, surely her brothers and sisters cared little for her. After all, she was what distracted most of the mortals from the things they wanted them to do. Some where driven until love was involved, or lust in most cases. Some where smart but love made them stupid, some where dark but love made them kind. Love had many gifts but it was much like a virus, she knew, and and distracting one at that.

This always caused Ai to keep from these meetings, she did not want to sit there and be loathed, and the fear of such a thing, kept her distance, which was strange for such a sociable being.
She felt bad though now that the lust she'd placed on herself warn of.

She should go. She knew she should go, and so she would.

She walked passed her resting avatar, pressed a gentle kiss to the woman's lips before making her departure, Ashika just sighed, too love drunk to move.


It didn't take long for Ai to arrive in to where they all gathered, and decided to hide her apprehension in the only way she knew how.
Grandly.

She stepped through the great doors, her arms up, her hips cocked, the belt at them and the matching silks that cascaded down and around her legs in the deep blues of a twilight night sky, teased the bounties beneath them.It would have been considered a skirt what she wore, had it not been for the splits that rose to the belt. She smiled.

"Brothers! Sisters! Do forgive my tardiness." She said, "But have no fear, Love is here." She said with a light flirty giggle. She cared little for the so called blood ties that forced her to call them siblings. She flirted with anyone.

She dropped her arms and approached, her hips swaying teasingly, her hair, dark this day to match the dark blue she was wearing, flowing behind her, wisping like a spider's web in a soft breeze, she found herself a seat atop a table, she crossed her legs, with the split the rose up the sides of her silks being so high, it was that motion that kept her modest...somewhat.

"What did I miss?" She asked, her tone sing song. "Tell me everything." She said as if this was idle gossip and not something important. It must have been if she had been invited.

Scire smiled at Ai as she came in as what Scire was to the mind Ai was for the body so he considered her more his counterpart than the others there. Many of his moths were inspired by desire or created because of the link she made for ones the moths once lost. Loss often kept moths anchored as well as the living loves that tempered obsessiveness into utility. However Scire, whether him or herself at the time, looked at Ai's eyes when speaking to her being a creature appreciative more of the benefit desire brought to mediating creation. Scire tended to more... academic... pursuits of the flesh among his flock than the ones she held interest in. Though he had a soft spot for drawing beautiful things from time to time as did many of the artists working in his name.

Crimson colored eyes gleamed at Ai, "Hello, AI! Forgive me if I don't get your seat I'm carving at the moment! There's a fell fire burning down creation making smouldering ashes of everything it touches. Breaking all the things and people we tended to all these years out of blasted earth."

Scire frowned his eyes turning cold blue, "Now this ichor wants to tear out all the hard work and replace it with themselves. All the carefully hybridized flowers torn out to smother the world in basalt. It's wanton destruction with no love of anything but itself."

Grunting he added sourly while striking blood from the marble while ardently writing his name there, "Even my basest bloodied crows have a sense of decorum. They don't just lay waste."

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Ai, Goddess of Love, Lust, and Sexuality
Fairy Glade

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Scrie, the more scholarly of her siblings greeted her first and with a smile. He, as he was today, appreciated her talents, he understood that she was necessary, if not important to the world of mortals and he thought her beautiful enough to draw.

SHe smiled at him, waving a few fingers as his scarlet eyes shimmered. Hello, AI! Forgive me if I don't get your seat I'm carving at the moment! There's a fell fire burning down creation making smouldering ashes of everything it touches. Breaking all the things and people we tended to all these years out of blasted earth." He said and she frowned. "Huh?" she said, cocking her head to the left in confusion. He knew many words, and not all of them she knew herself, but from what she could tell. Something was burning things, mortals?

"Burning?" She asked before he went on, his eyes turned a steely blue. "Now this ichor wants to tear out all the hard work and replace it with themselves. All the carefully hybridized flowers torn out to smother the world in basalt. It's wanton destruction with no love of anything but itself." He said and she rose a hand to her ample chest. "My." She breathed. No love? That was not good, not good at all. "Even my basest bloodied crows have a sense of decorum. They don't just lay waste." He said as he struck the marble he'd been working on, bleeding it. She sighed. "Well, What are we going to do, Scrie?" She asked. "Surely we can not allow such a thing to continue, What are the others saying?" She asked, knowing that she was a lover, not a fighter, and if it didn't love, there was nothing she could do. She could distract most anything. A raging beast would calm at her touch, a frustrated warrior would relax in her presence, even a madman could be distracted, but all of those things could love. this...Ichor, according to her brother, could not.

The marble block turned with his hands showing channels on the other sides that flowed in and around each other the scars that left a circular pool of blood below it like melted wax. Scire smiled and cupped his hand above the block blowing on it. A whoomp of thumping red flame above it inhaled the pool of wax moving about the channels freely. The ticking adoration of madmen tapped to see their notice directed at a canvas marked as an interest of his own. Most would appreciate that Scire saw intrinsic value in her activities and the rest he would watch.

Sat back he grinned as the gauntlet's sharp finger turned to rounded mail. Unadorned candle enkindled behind him he rose to his feet to Ai with predatory eyes that saw uncertainty. At that movement yellow robe tightens to brown and gold shaded formalwear a muscled frame behind it one chainmail glove tethered into his pants pocket.

Scire reaches forward to stroke Ai's cheek with a chainmail thumb that inspired errant misplaced memories, "They have sent their little brushes to paint a better understanding of the threat. To burn or to learn? You can do what you have always done and how you have always created..."

He smiled pushing up his glasses with his other hand then pointing at her nose with it, "...find the worthy and give them something to fight for."

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Ai, Goddess of Love, Lust, and Sexuality
Fairy Glade

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Ai watched, curiously as Scrie continued his work, manipulating marble and wax and morbidly, blood. She loved seeing others at the mercy their talents, however disturbing it may have been. It made her feel as less like a tool to her talents.

Sitting back, he shifted his form, his scholarly robes conforming to the muscular frame beneath them, draping into former wear, easily removable, she noted, minus the chain mail that formed around his hands, the only thing that remained was the glasses that sat on the bridge of his nose.

He reached up, cupping her cheek, a thumb dancing over her skin. She could only smile, amusement in her eyes. "They have sent their little brushes to paint a better understanding of the threat. To burn or to learn? You can do what you have always done and how you have always created..." He said, before removing his glasses and pointing with them to her nose. "...find the worthy and give them something to fight for."
Ai, who hadn't move from her perch atop the table, leaned up, a kiss away from him, dainty fingers curling around the glasses she had aimed at her face. She pushed them down gently. "And are you one of the worthy, Scrie?" She purred, a kittenish grin on her face. "Is that what this display is all about?" She said, as her fingers danced down the glasses and up his forearm. She invented flirtatious coyness,so she could see it when it was presented to her. What he said prior was not lost on her, but she was easily distracted when it came to the possibility of using her talents, it was as addicting to her as it was any mortal. They were sending scouts to find out what the Ichor is actually after and whether or not they should kill it or not....or even if they could. All of this was not a matter for the Goddess of Love, there would be nothing for her to do, if it couldn't be distracted by her talents.

"If you wanted to explore my talents, all you have to do is ask." She added, her mind getting back to the opportunity that seemed to be presenting itself, with a grin that would sent a mortal man to his knees.

Hazarmaveth simply stood quietly at this display by Ai, as promiscuous as it were. Many mortals find themselves moved, whisked within this flirtatious display, but he was not a mortal, nor ever was, and was certainly not one would call ideal physically as he currently was. He felt ever so slightly awkward in this, but with a brief respite from the flirtatious exchange he cleared his throat.

"Greetings, Ai, an extravagant of entrance as I should have come to expect," he says, trying to douse the atmosphere somewhat. "What Scire has stated is true in some regards, the Black Ichor, Bashemath, spreads, taking that which has died and breathing in new life, but is yet to actively destroy. The other fact is that she came from the tree of the first mother... a fact, I admit, that leaves me alone emotionally unreliable to act on this matter."

He turns away, looking out upon a balcony down upon Aettean, taking a moment to settle his mind from the war raging within. The last thing he desired was to lose himself.

"Perhaps with no love is not exactly true, this being was born in part from what Abaranne must have felt seeing her children dead and dying before her, a feeling I'm sure so few of us could even remotely relate to," with this he sighs and looks back. "I believe she believes everything she says, that she wants to create a protected world of nothing but life and pleasure, perhaps... perhaps instead she is like a child who witnessed something she loved destroyed, but at the same time felt every second of its final moments. Perhaps instead of lacking love, it is instead indiscriminate maniacal love that is fueled by trauma both physical and emotional."

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Ai, Goddess of Love, Lust, and Sexuality
Fairy Glade

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Ai looked over as Hazarmaveth cleared his throat, her kittenish grin never fading. He seemed to be a little embarrassed by what he'd been saying, and perhaps a little shy given his form. Ai, however, loved to love, no matter what the form so long as she could touch it. "Greetings, Ai, an extravagant of entrance as I should have come to expect," He said, and she giggled. He was trying to ease the sexual tension....he would learn that was just her present. Like his blue light, ever present. "Greetings, Hazarmaveth." She purred.

"What Scire has stated is true in some regards, the Black Ichor, Bashemath, spreads, taking that which has died and breathing in new life, but is yet to actively destroy. The other fact is that she came from the tree of the first mother... a fact, I admit, that leaves me alone emotionally unreliable to act on this matter."
He explained and Ai rose her brows. "She?" She sang. It it had a gender, then it was likely it had a personality, if it had a personality, it had intelligence, and if it had intelligence, it had desires, and desires were her specialty. She looked at Hazarmaveth and his sudden bashfulness in regards to emotion and she lifted herself from her seat atop the table, standing before Scrie, dancing a few fingers across his chest, she moved over to Hazarmaveth and smiled almost sadly, as he lost himself in his thoughts for a moment.

"Perhaps with no love is not exactly true, this being was born in part from what Abaranne must have felt seeing her children dead and dying before her, a feeling I'm sure so few of us could even remotely relate to," He said and for the first time, her flirtatious expression faded. She bore no children, but wanted to. She did not want demi-god children that she would have to love from a distance, she wanted a child, full God or Goddess that she could love up close. She already loved her imaginary children, she could only imagine what it would be like to lose real ones. Love like that was the strongest, and that could not be manipulated only strengthened.

"I believe she believes everything she says, that she wants to create a protected world of nothing but life and pleasure, perhaps... perhaps instead she is like a child who witnessed something she loved destroyed, but at the same time felt every second of its final moments. Perhaps instead of lacking love, it is instead indiscriminate maniacal love that is fueled by trauma both physical and emotional."

Ai looked at Hazarmaveth and sighed. "And what, Brother, do you believe I can do, as you know, with even the smallest amount of love, I can manipulate it, but if this is what is fueling this....ichor, then there is not much I can do." She said but then pursed her lips. "Unless, I can increase the love she has for the things being destroyed?" She offered but she didn't think there was much too that theory. Love was a fickle thing, as strong as it was.

As Edna was calming herself down from what Xyr was planning, another voice and figure entered the council room. As she looked at the new arrival it was Ai the Goddess of Lust, and Sexuality. Edna smiled at her and waved. "Welcome Ai, looking as beautiful as always. Glad you can join us." She greeted with a smile.

As the meeting still continued Edna began to get more nervous, she was really worried about Xyr's plot and Bashemath. She needed to find her and see if she can get friendly with her. She may not have been the type to push the advantage or get fired up, but when the lives of many people were in danger she could not wait idly. "I'm sorry, I can't wait any longer. I will be looking for Bashemath myself. I just can't sit around doing nothing, but I am sure we can fix this situation and return back to our peaceful lives. I wish we could stay longer and talk but lets ensure Xyr stops this mess before it gets out of hand. I will be sure to make a party once this gets solved so please do come by to my home if you have time. I will see you all soon." She smiled as she conjured an orb from thin air with the image of the mortal word then like that she vanished.

As Hazarmaveth begins to respond to Ai he feels a sudden rush through the veins of creation itself, a bright surge of light through his flame. He holds up his hand to catch the attention of all present and looks out, catching the end of some event down below, somewhere on Aettean. It was something he had felt only once before.

"Something emerged from beyond the veil," he says, almost cryptically. "Not my brother, thankfully, but it still requires attention."

With this he holds out his hand and summons one of his Seekers from a short-lived rift within the ground connecting into Shalom. This one, humanoid and male in appearance, robed in black, stood before Hazarmaveth, looking up at him, staring with luminescent eyes light moon light behind a white mask.

"There was a disturbance near Hoffngard, in Ertse'gart, could you check to see what has occurred," he says to the figure, his tone making it out as a request and less an order. "I believe there may soon be a new induction."

An induction... he referred to of course the formal acceptance of a god. Without word the Seeker steps back for a moment, takes a quiet bown and, with a glow of runes across the being's body he transforms to resemble a large black bird and takes off at great speed from the balcony, diving down towards Aettean below.

"Well... eager is the youth, not even a 'hello'," he says, an attempt at humor. "Still, that anomaly just now was too immense to be ignored. While I doubt it has any connection to Bashemath and the Black Ichor it requires attention none the less. And... I'm sure Xyr will try to become involved in it as well."

Scire, momentarily distracted by flipping pages of his book replied to Ai after a fashion. He palmed his glasses raising an eyebrow at Ai and Hazarmaveth, "I'm merely a product of my environment and keep the worthy goaded to action. It seems there's a new product now, eh? I don't train the new blood I keep them going on their own path."

Recalling something that he thought wouldn't end well he laughs, "That does remind me not to be alone with someone like Ai for too long."

His expression muted, "Let alone Xyr. That would be less amusing for everyone involved. Anyway, things to do!"

Fingers uncoiled Scire rose a monacle to put into one eye and opened his book on a scored table that wafted dust like it had sat for some days there. It wasn't summoning as much as the warren followed Scire around his realm the organic chaos of art, creation, and literature nearly an animate thing in of itself. The God of the Driven hadn't the focus to maintain discrete servants like the others merely focusing his realm and power on his followers.

With his gauntlet Scire opened the hardbound metal book emblazoned with his symbol. Scraps of vellum and paper poured out of it like water onto the table a map of some city depicted on the book's pages. Scire rose his gauntleted hand pointing at the air above the table as a flood of papers fluttered out of the book and upward into the air. Faces and their scraps of attendant thoughts from Scire's mind as he looked for Hoffngard among the minds of his followers.

"Who is closest to this new event...", He mused as Scire's inattention to Raelenea faded him back to into the warrens.