Punched a baby

(Order): Kaestrin says, "I have missed much... what has happened to Your Temple, Inesse?"

(Order): Auresae says, "Do you recall where Oniala's cottage is, child? It is on those selfsame grounds."

(Order): Kaestrin says, "Oh... You had it redesigned, didn't You? I think I recall something about tat before my nap."

(Order): You say, "I can take you if you do not know."

(Order): Kaestrin says, "Yes I remember, Mother."

(Order): Kaestrin says, "Wem.."

(Order): Kaestrin says, "Erm..."

(Order): Kaestrin says, "I may not though..."

(Order): You say, "Head out to Eleusis."

(Order): Kaestrin says, "Ah, I'm sorry I am quite sure I don't. The only place I saw Oniala was in Jaru."

(Order): Auresae says, "Arbre will show you, fret not."

(Order): Kaestrin says, "Thank you."

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "How strange. It feels to be the first time your common name has passed My lips."

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "Every now and again I get Aquila."

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "I left the Pride."

(Order): Kaestrin says, "I completely forgot about the relocation."

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "Mm, yes, I know."

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "Of course. I am feeling more... in place, in the Luminaries."

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "Ah?"

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "Perhaps You are fond of them, but I tire of having to deal with half of the Sentinels, namely Esrytesh and Lin. Lin says she cares for me, but every time she speaks, she asks only for more of my dust, and so I do not see her."

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "I am no more fond of them than I am any other. It is you, and Iahulo I am fond of."

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "...just us?"

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "Of the Pride?"

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "Yes."

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "Oh. Yes. Well, I am no longer in the Pride, so You have only avelaeo."

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "So I know."

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "Daskalos Qefin welcomed me in warmly. Seemed pleased to have an Auresian back in the guild."

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "Do You live in a state of contentment, assuming I am doing nothing stupid at the moment, or are there things You constantly yearn or desire for?"

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "Does fire ever content itself, or does it not ever yearn for something new to feast upon?"

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "..I should have guessed that. What do You yearn to feast on?"

The Divine voice of Auresae echoes in your head, "Everything. The spirit of Consumption burns within Me, child."

You tell Auresae, Goddess of Fire, "You are the only One Who ever succeeds in making me feel like a child."

Her voice fluidly shifts to a source outside of your own head, though it resonates all the same, the heat of the unseen Goddess enveloping you. There is a touch upon your breast, over your heart, and heedless of your last words She queries in low tone, "Do you not feel it within you, too?" Without waiting for an answer, She supplies, "Of course you do. It is what drives you. What turned you from the Pride to the Luminaries. You always want more, My little Aquila."

You have emoted: Arbre takes in a deep breath, raising her left hand to press against the skin where the touch was felt. "You have this wonderful way of making my faults sound like strengths," she says, looking slowly around the area, though it's clear she doesn't expect to find the source of the voice, "nothing ever leaves me content for more than a day or two, and You call it my fire burning."

A soft, chiming laugh echoes about you, not unkind. "They -are- strengths," the Voice stresses. "You have come far in the way of learning them, and learning how to temper yourself. I am proud of you, Cirtaleo." Another phantasmal hand closes over your throat, making you feel more safe than threatened as the heat condenses and gives the impression of cradling you.

You have emoted: Arbre closes her eyes, slowing her breathing. "I run because I always feel so empty," she whispers. She raises a hand as if to place it on the Goddess', but pauses midway and just holds her loose fist to her breast. "Arbre fucking Aquila is a lie. Just the facade I throw up to look fearless when I am just a scared child."

The hand glides up, tender beneath your jaw now and guiding your chin to lift. You feel as though you might see Her presence there when you do, but for the moment She is rendered completely and solely by tactile means. It is enough--a thumb, you intrinsically know it to be, smooths over your bottom lip. "But I see past it, do I not? Do you trust My vision?" the Goddess croons softly. "I know you, Arbre Aquila. I know your emptiness, that emptiness. It makes you more, not less."

You have emoted: "So I will always be this?" Arbre asks in an almost inaudible whisper. She opens her eyes, focuses on nothing, and pushes her shoulders back to stand up straight. Pain is etched on her face, but determination and defiance in her posture. "I will always run and chase and fall and scream and die?"

"No," comes the measured response, the careful tone of it giving way to something vaguely more melancholic, as though She recognizes what it would mean to you. "But you will never be full, Cirtaleo." There is only silence then, so thick that it may as well be a viscous, tangible thing, ensnared and constrained by the vines woven together around the gazebo. Still, you are not alone, and that in turn makes it somewhat less stifling. The faint golden shimmer about your form, once disguised in the waning light, is fleetingly visible out of the corners of your eyes now with the coming darkness.

You have emoted: A small twitch in her brows is all that belies Arbre . She remains as still as possible, staring at nothing as she thinks hard on the words given to her. It takes several long moments for her to process the words and her own emotions, but eventually her shoulders relax and she closes her eyes, taking a calming breath. "I feel like I should be happier in my life," she says. Her voice cracks once and she clears her throat, the sadness in her tone giving way to something closer to exhaustion, "I have so many things that others would be so jealous of, but.. I still feel so alone all of the time."

Her presence grips you tighter, fiercer still, trying to physically make you feel what it is words cannot reach. "But you are not. You have Me, always Me," She chides gently. "We could have so much more, you and I. I could give you so many things, what you dream of and more." A subtle shift has overtaken Her voice, something queer and indescribable and vaguely, fundamentally unsettling, a direct contrast to Her words. "Is that what you want? Would that make you happy?"

You have emoted: The hairs on Arbre skin stand up, a slight shiver running through her as her breathing picks up and pupils dilate. She opens her eyes and her mouth to reply, but hesitates; a rare moment of intelligence telling her to think before speaking. She does think, but only for a moment, and her answer is still the same: "More than anything, Qineo Raleha."

The touch is less delicate now, wrenching your head back to bare your throat, and you might swear you can see how the flesh of your cheek is pressed beneath nothing, beneath the ebon palm that is not there, that you know to be there. She replies in unwavering instruction, "You will not breathe a word. This is yours to carry. This is service to Me. This is ours, and ours alone." The other hand grabs you about the waist then, and you feel nails biting into the tender skin of your stomach shortly followed by a sensation not unlike being kicked in the gut. "You will give what no one else has," the Goddess concludes, and then there are no hands upon you, merely Her warmth.

You have emoted: Arbre releases an unladylike grunt of pain, doubling over and clutching her stomach as she gasps for breath. She wheezes in a deep breath, straightening uncertainly as the pain fades. She moves her arms slowly, looking down at where the pain came from, her hands open and palms up. She's confused, and it shows in every line in her face, though the tattoos that line her body have flared uncontrollably, heat wafting off of her body. She looks at her stomach with furrowed brow, then up at the nothing in front of her as if expecting an explanation. She doesn't dare ask for one.

The weight of Her unseen gaze is still upon you, so that even though She does not offer explanation, you know She has seen your confusion. Instead She merely repeats, "Not a word." And then the manifestation of Her presence slowly seeps from your surroundings like an outgoing tide, leaving you in comparative chill.