The Seven Deadly Sins are the Muses of Chaos, and they are BORED.
Seven thrones of white marble sit on a raised dais, the centerpiece of a truly magnificent throne room. The ceiling is perceptibly not there, as the towering steel and silver fluted columns are holding up a vaulted cage-like structure, but where there should be roofing between the arches only millions of stars twinkle and shine. The room is lit by a glowing, even white light emitting directly from large circular stones embedded in the walls, pillars and floor. The thrones, surrounded by archways, pillars, limestone floors and many giant doors leading to countless passageways and staircases, seem small against the vastness of the room. Each throne, however, towers over its occupant. The seven imposing thrones, each one unique and tailored in its carved crystalline formation, are host to six lolling figures sprawled across them, filling all chairs but one. A tall, silver haired figure leans back in her chair, the shining white marble carved to fit her exact form. Silk and satin pillows, all silver, cushion her soft, supple body. Her throne is the centerpiece, as is her presence. A silver crown, with 5 sharp points reaching skyward, is nestled gently between her two hefty, curled horns. She crosses one sultry leg slowly over the other, her perfectly sculpted face resting in her clawed hand. As with the other six succubi, her silver top and loincloth shimmer in the starlight, and her deep purple skin seems to pull in and reflect out the constellations and galaxies themselves. Her eyelids slowly droop as her dark eyes and light mauve pupils scan the large, and yet cluttered room.
This place is a mess, she thinks. A hellhole, really.
She’s not wrong, as within the cavernous space furniture - broken and whole - is scattered throughout, host to countless treasures and trinkets, with even a few bodies and skeletons peppered about. Pride yawns, and picks a sharp, glittering tooth with a curved claw. She almost buzzes within her relaxation, feeling a little sedated and dull.
‘’WHAT DID YOU CALL ME?!’’
‘’I didn’t CALL you anything, I said you smell like shi-’’
A groaning, screeching sound of agony escapes Sloth’s mouth. She’s draped over her puffy, pillowed chair, one arm over her head and the other holding one leg while the other leg dangles over the edge. Her eyes remain shut but she manages a mumbled ‘’Stopbothrin’ Wrath, Gluttony.” She sighs, shifts position, and slumbers on.
Pride slowly shifts her gaze to her left, where Wrath is standing arched and poised, her trident pointing directly at Gluttony, it’s sharpest point almost touching her dark eyeball. Gluttony, reclining delicately in her chair and staring straight up at Wrath, takes another meaty bite from the soft fruit in her hand, liquid gushing into her mouth and almost fully past her lips, not breaking eye contact.
‘’I said what I said”, she says through the fruit’s juices, shrugging loosely. ‘’You stink.”
A low growl escapes through Wrath’s throat, a warning.
A soft, melodious voice chimes in, ‘’Oh sit down, Wrath, I think you smell gorgeous. It’s just sweat! Really, Gluttony, if you don’t like it go eat somewhere else.”
Rolling her eyes, Gluttony shifts her weight to the far side of her chair, picking at a bunch of grapes draped in one of the many bowls around her. Wrath’s shoulders loosen and settle, her pitchfork dropping. Her ears twitch, her cheeks getting hot. She glances back over at Lust, lying curled up on her side, her legs and arms entangled around a young, goofily grinning male elf. Lust blows Wrath a gentle kiss and nestles down into her prey’s arms like a satisfied lover, sighing heavily as he nuzzles dreamily into her neck. Blowing her cropped hair out of her eyes, Wrath plops down huffily, stowing her pitchfork against the chair back as she drops.
A clang rings out across the cavernous room. Amongst one of the piles, a golden urn bursts forth, rolling and clattering across the floor, bumping over a small table covered in coins and jewels. Everyone stops to glance over as a heavily laden, petite figure makes her way rather noisily across the room. Carrying a large bag slung over her glittery, furry cloak, she marches towards her empty chair, not sparing a glance towards the others and jingling all the way. She removes the bag, placing it on an extruding, table-like arm of her glittering chair. The chair is also carefully adorned with crystals, jewels and shimmering gems beautifully placed to create a colourful mural of patterns and swirls. Greed gently pulls herself onto her chair, adjusting her cloak around her like a blanket, and sits comfortably cross-legged. She opens the bag and digs in, removing small to large items, inspecting each one. Some of them she polishes, placing them gently on a growing pile in her lap. Others she squints at, tests between her teeth, and mostly tosses over her shoulder. The colourful gems in her lap and on her chair reflect all the colours of the cosmos onto her bluish green skin, creating a soft, ethereal glow.
The chair next to her, the one furthest away from the center on the left (Pride’s right) is a mess. Not in the sense of the chair being messy or dirty, but the chair itself makes no visual sense. The normally untarnished marble, streaked with silver, is gashed open by swords and axes embedded into the stone, sticking out at all angles. An old skeleton is draped over the top, the bottom littered with strange items of not much value. The seat itself is covered in furs and pillows like most of the others, but is also not really carved or shaped to fit the body that’s sitting in it. This body is perched, almost birdlike, on the edge of her seat. She’s strong and fit, her green skin and muscles shimmering in the light. Her silver suit has a matching hat, one with a brim like a modern sports hat, that just manages to squeeze between her angular, back-facing horns. She seems to be deep in thought, gazing off into the distance but darting her eyes about every now and then as she idly chews on a clawed nail. A glint to her left catches her eye and she is pulled from her reverie, turning her head to see Greed digging through a bag of jewels. Jealousy leans over, bumping cups and a few mice out of her way.
“What you got there, Greed? Anything to share?’’
‘’Go away Jealousy, I’m busy. Go bother Pride, she’s bored. Maybe you can take her place for a while and lead us into an adventure or something, I dunno.”
Jealousy’s ears twitch as she considers what Greed just said, her eyes flitting over to Pride who yawns, stretching like a tired cat. Then, an idea forming in her head, Jealousy looks over to a circular, well-like crystal sculpture in the center of the room, almost entirely hidden by expensive junk. Before she can move, however, Wrath leaps down from her chair - possibly driven away by the sounds of eating and pleasure surrounding her senses - and marches across the room. She kicks the vases, jars and chests out of the way, grabs a few golden orbs from a tray and throws them in the pool of mirror-like water filling the well. They fall in, but no splash appears. Jealousy snarls, angry that she had missed her moment.
“Oi, Pride, get over here. You’re just as bored and frustrated as I am, let’s do something about it.”
Pride, still in her zone of numbness, takes a deep breath.
‘’I’m not bored, I don’t know what you mean. Everything is ffii-hiiiine”, she yawns. Her voice is deep and purry. Her eyes finally droop shut. And then suddenly flicker open as an enormous screeching, scraping noise fills the room. Even Sloth wakes up with a ‘’mmmwho took my pickle?” falling through her dozy lips. The well-like feature, more like a crystal shard cauldron, makes an unearthly wail as Wrath, determined to escape this current hell, drags it across the floor to the base of the dais.
‘’WE… ARE… DOING….SOMETHING…. NEW!’’
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