@heirofheroics
you are the goddess rhongomyniad, you are divine, and you are bursting at the seams with righteous fury.
you had been so close--just a little longer for your holy lance to work, and the world would have fallen away, broken apart at the seams, and humanity would have been safe. just a few moments more, just another drop of mana, just--nothing. just nothing, now, because you are here, in some snowy nowhere infinitely far from your holy city, with rhongomyniad lifeless in your hands. without it, without you, what is left? it will all collapse, fall into ruin. humanity will die with a whimper.
and for what? to summon a king? to spark a war? there is nothing here, no beating heart to this land. you are wasted here. eidolon... you loathe this place, you decide. you want to take your lance to it and tear it apart. maybe later, when the cold has leeched some of the life from your bones, you will reconsider, but for now--for now you are incandescent.
pity the poor fool, then, that stumbles across your path as you stride forth from your new accommodations, lance held tight in a white-knuckled grip. pity the boy--just a boy, but who cares when he’s a part of all this--that comes face to face with your wrath. you aren’t tall, but you tower over him all the same, looking for all the world like an avenging angel, resplendent in silver and steel.
“you,” and your voice comes out halfway to a snarl. the lion king, more beast than man. “tell me why i have been summoned here. i am your king, and i will have answers.”
