hemlock: Malmydia

The Fulcrux of Malmydia.
A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. A dark grey sky looms overhead, thick with blackened clouds pregnant with the tell-tale tension of a storm waiting to break. Stretching out into the far distance, an ocean of dark water surges ever forward - racing towards a nearby precipice before thundering off in a deafening roar and shooting mist and fog skywards. The only place safe from the current is an orderly pathway of white stone that emerges from an enormous red archway which sprouts from the water and winds its way to a large, circular platform. Perfectly circular, the wide marble holds a raised dais, upon which the noise of the falls is muffled and not even a drop of water dares to fall. Looming out well beyond the point where the water falls, the edge of the dais offers no succor to the tension of the storm, and gives view to a sea of fog and mist that extends beyond visibility and blankets whatever may hide beneath from sight. Nothing but dark ocean can be seen through the twin spires of an enormous red archway, its terraced roof trailing small strips of silk that flutter restlessly. Sprouting from the middle of the dais, jagged bones pierce upwards in an attempt to meet a floating sphere of dark, churning blood. Its surface floating well above the walkway, a ghodak board hovers in You see a single exit leading through an enormous red arch.

You incline your head politely to those around you.

You drop a bottle.
Blood surges down from the globe above the bones to envelop a bottle, surging and boiling before returning to its position once more: the offering vanished.

You close your eyes and inhale deeply, absorbing the scent of your surroundings.

You let loose a long breath from your lungs, exhaling slowly.

You have emoted: Esei steps toward the exit, their eyes grazing over the fog.

"How...interesting. Do you think Me in need of refreshment, toy of Nocht?" A cold, indifferent voice echoes across the darkened waves, carrying towards you in muffled tones as it sounds through the fog.

You have emoted: Esei pauses, their back stiffening as they turn back to face the shrine. "I believe it is custom to offer the Divine gifts, Lady Chirurgeon," they remark politely in a soft voice. "My earnest apologies if they are undesired. I had thought to ask a question, however, I wish not to... impede any more than necessary."

"Is it customary in His demesne to wander aimlessly against the current, to linger in places of solemnity and reverence in hopes that you are noticed? Speak, little toy, and if your question is interesting then you may be fortunate enough to receive an answer." Though the words which find you are cruel, there is no inherent malice to them. Yet as they pass through the fog which seethes around the shrine, you cannot help but feel belittled.

In a husky, honeyed cadence, you whisper, "I have heard rumor You have a history, of sorts, with Him, Lady Chirurgeon. I only ask - is such true?"

The mists seethe for a moment, churning and shifting as they swirl about into a thick mass that temporarily blinds your sight to the ocean which surrounds you - even muffling the sound of the waterfall beyond. Then, there are steps, even and measured and as loud as the cracking of skeletal branches in your forestal home as you see a figure approaching through the banks that begin to clear in Her presence.

The Fulcrux of Malmydia.
A comforting feeling of privacy pervades the area. A dark grey sky looms overhead, thick with blackened clouds pregnant with the tell-tale tension of a storm waiting to break. Stretching out into the far distance, an ocean of dark water surges ever forward - racing towards a nearby precipice before thundering off in a deafening roar and shooting mist and fog skywards. The only place safe from the current is an orderly pathway of white stone that emerges from an enormous red archway which sprouts from the water and winds its way to a large, circular platform. Perfectly circular, the wide marble holds a raised dais, upon which the noise of the falls is muffled and not even a drop of water dares to fall. Looming out well beyond the point where the water falls, the edge of the dais offers no succor to the tension of the storm, and gives view to a sea of fog and mist that extends beyond visibility and blankets whatever may hide beneath from sight. Nothing but dark ocean can be seen through the twin spires of an enormous red archway, its terraced roof trailing small strips of silk that flutter restlessly. Sprouting from the middle of the dais, jagged bones pierce upwards in an attempt to meet a floating sphere of dark, churning blood. Its surface floating well above the walkway, a ghodak board hovers in place here. Malmydia, the Mother of Plagues stands here, enshrouded by a thick cloud of sparkling fog that conceals Her from full sight. She wields a silver needle in Her left hand.
You see a single exit leading through an enormous red arch.

You have emoted: Esei bows their head respectfully in the presence of Malmydia, hands clasping lightly behind their back.

"Yes," Malmydia answers simply, Her half-lidded eyes piercing through the mist which flows over them like the glaring beacons of New Celest, visible even when Her form is swaddled by the fog which lovingly surges towards her. "Though this is not, truly, all you wish to know. I do not enjoy mortal games of fancy, nor do I appreciate My time wasted. Speak of what you truly wish to know."

You have emoted: Esei takes a long breath, tilting their head up. "Very well, Lady. In what way would You know Him? Did You get along well, or was it a less... amicable relationship?"

Dark shadows swirl within the fog which still bars the dark ocean from sight, silhouettes of fantastically horrific beasts and humanoid abominations lurching throughout as the Mother of Plagues considers your question.

Appearing as a woman who barely exceeds six feet of height, She is a radiant immortal whose unassuming appearance is belied by the aura of power and menace that hangs about Her which causes every motion to appear cruel. Kept half-lidded, Her large, pale green eyes are the colour of a pond at daybreak and are framed by a thick brush of beautiful lashes. High cheekbones lend Her face an angular slant and Her thin lips are often pressed together in a tight line beneath Her narrow nose. Though the air about Her is refreshingly clean, the sterile scent is almost nauseating as it overpowers something else which hangs about Her in an almost imperceptible translucent haze.

Elegant tresses of auburn hair are woven and braided into and around an elaborate bun before falling into a straight curtain past Her shoulders.
She is wearing:
a gilded hairpin dripping with menace that shimmers in a haze of translucent fog, plunged through Her bun to keep it tidy as its sharpened edge gleams maliciously where it pokes out the other side
an imposing long-coated charcoal grey suit with the jacket and suit both hanging over Her shoulders to keep Her arms free; the sleeves of the rich, cream-coloured shirt beneath rolled up to expose Her pale arms to the elbow
a pair of armoured, onyx-woven black silk gloves whose reflective surface swims in a translucent layer of sparkling fog
a pair of snakeskin loafer shoes whose heels have been extended to afford Her an extra inch of height
a hemlock flower poking out of the breast pocket of Her delicate silk shirt

You have emoted: As Esei's eyes finally flick up to take in Malmydia's form, their eyes catch briefly on the hemlock flower, lingering briefly before skimming away.

Her voice clear as the night sky, despite its quiet, unassuming nature, Malmydia, the Mother of Plagues says, "He was My patient, once, in a time beyond your ken. The memories of My cousins speak of wars and atrocities of perspective, yet there was ever a need for the Hamadhi, even before We were vital to the survival of Our kind. Given the choice between the ministrations of His Sister and Myself, He chose Me."

There is the faintest narrowing of Malmydia's eyes, but you cannot discern emotion from the action, Her voice ringing with what could best be described as boredom as She states, "Not that I could blame Him for making the obvious choice."

You have emoted: Esei's ears twitch faintly as they listen, blinking once as they absorb Malmydia's words. "I see," they murmur. "Thank You, Lady Chirurgeon."

A ponderous curiosity briefly tinging Her voice, Malmydia, the Mother of Plagues says, "Is He still afflicted, then?"

You have emoted: Esei's head tilts as they pause, not even seeming to breathe as their eyes flick down, almost contemplatively. Finally, they answer with a simple, "Yes."

Malmydia pauses, and raises a hand. Mist swirls into a tight sphere, shifting and bubbling before solidifying and dropping down in a fine pool of water that splashes against Her gloves and dissolves ere it can drip down Her arm. Left in Her palm is a small hemlock flower, which She holds before Her. "I have little interest in whether He survives or not, such will be His choice. Yet if He is willing to ask, then I will be willing to consider treating Him."

The flower floating from Her hand to gently bob in the air before you until you take it, Malmydia gives a hemlock flower to you.

Once more sounding bored as Her eyes turn to the fog and the disturbing silhouettes within, Malmydia, the Mother of Plagues says, "You may offer Him this, as a token of My sincerity."

You have emoted: With a short nod, Esei stares at the hemlock flower in Malmydia's hand, taking it silently from the air as it is offered. "...I see. Thank You again."

Malmydia waves a hand dismissively as She turns to step back into the embrace of the mist, "That is all."

You have emoted: Esei briefly twirls the flower between two clawed fingers, inclining their head towards the spot where the Elder Goddess once stood before taking their leave.