"Sweetie, look at me." a women's voice kindly demanded. It was familiar. It's warmth kept Mortimer even more firmly weighted to the soft grass where he lie. He was staring at the pitch sky, filled with stars so bright that there must have been no light for miles. They were magnetic and he didn't understand why. What was making him admire them to the point of forcing his gaze to his companion? After a reluctant moment he obeyed. There she was, Alicia.

"These stars... For a moment I felt like I never wanted to look away from them." He said quietly to the beautiful blue eyes staring back at him, "I get them same feeling looking at you, now."

It was true, Mortimer's words were spoken as he thought them, as if he was overcome with excitement. The question of why still lingered.

Alicia wore a grin under a flushed face, how she always was with compliments. It was such a darling trait she had. Her head and golden hair made the slightest movement on his arm while she let out a silent titter.
"Your obsession with words is always proving itself to be a good thing." She commented.

"It's my obsession with you."

"Sweetie!"

He rolled over and embraced-

A wooden desk. The one Mortimer fell asleep on instead of the still-made bed to his side. He lifted his head from his crossed arms, glaring at the spot his lips met the furniture. Anger slowly vanished and left something empty in him. Under his hands was a piece of parchment from a drawer of his unlikely fling. On it was a codex of the past twenty four hours in his neat handwriting.



Mortimer folded the excerpt and slipped it into his journal. A knock came then, and a foreign accent piped about getting ready. So he did...

Shortly, He was buttoning the top button of his charcoal grey Italian suit over a black vest and white collared shirt. This was his favorite set, made so by the way his black shoes, vest, and handkerchief accentuated without color. Two pens and a folded sheet of paper went inside his jacket, his bag hung at his back over his shoulder, and the Italian book was set aside to find easily. It was time to go.

A few steps later, Mortimer found himself with his weight on his heels, hands in his pockets, and eyes on this gathering of strange VIPs. What a mixed group, He thought, What a day we are going to have.

"Personally, I think it's silly that anyone identifies us as gods anyway. Even if Zeus and all the others existed, as they clearly did. I mean, they obviously weren't immortal, all powerful, all present and all wise and knowing. That qualifies as a god to me. God. Technically I still ascribe to a belief in a God higher than myself, and I'm supposedly lumped in the same category." He spoke to the courier. "I mean, who's going to talk about the afterlife when the universe is destroyed? There's definitely some form of after life, as far as I'm concerned, even if the original one is gone, an ultimate being like I just described clearly existed before anyway."

'Oh well, but I've been rambling on for quite some time. I was glad that I finally managed to complete my small mecha armor. Rocket launches made of sturdy wood isn't something that I see the demons and monsters seeing coming for them until it's too late, and I managed to create a powerful sword with a mixture of aluminum, copper, iron and tin that is superior to anything, even modern steel. Of course, when I say "anything" I mean even diamond crystalline structures, but that doesn't mean there aren't things out there better than what I have made".

I can't go out there not like this I can't call myself a goddess this is a CURSE they'll hate me

One of the Wild Gods sat hunched in her room, hiding in the narrow space between her bed and the wall.

But this is my gift to GIVE to SPREAD let them all see the world in its glory its colors its wonder

Today was not going to be a good day for her. The torrent of thoughts rising in her mind was drowning out any thought of getting herself ready to meet the others.

They're strong they can resist me but i want them to be open i want to have friends friends that don't go mad

She was all too clear on the nature of her domain. She was "gifted" with Madness. For her, it was as if the change had never stopped. Every morning, the world held new and ever-stranger details, and every night new horrors lurked in the corners of her mind to torment her.

I look like a FREAK I have since this started I have to warn them to STAY AWAY I'm not safe for them

She would certainly be easy to tell apart from your average teenager; while many girls her age had brightly dyed hair and wild makeup, she took it to the extreme. Today she had the left side of her hair dyed acid green and cut short, while the hair on her right was a dark blue and fell past her shoulder. Her makeup was heavy and smudged, since she hadn't taken it off before sleeping... or at any point during the last three days.

Alone is best I'm safe and they're safe I have to leave here I need to get out

She stood up, dragged the blanket from her bed and wrapped herself in it, then shuffled over to the door.

But they want me here I need to know I need to get away I need to see them I need to just see them they could be like me

The girl reached one trembling hand out to the doorknob and slowly swung it open, looking both ways before stepping out into the hallway toward Grayhall.

---

As she arrived in the hall, Jennifer looked around at the other Wild Gods and Caretakers arriving.

I miss my Caretaker she's probably still worrying about the demons behind her eyes it would have been fine if she didn't try and get them out

She made her way over to one of the side walls and sat down against it, pulling her blanket tightly around her.

Oh no they're staring I knew they would I knew I should have stayed I should have changed

Only now, with several sets of eyes upon her, did Jennifer realize that she was wearing nothing but a pair of sweatpants and a bra underneath her blanket. She was unused to dealing with anyone other than herself, since for the last few weeks she had been avoiding contact with others.

Have to stay calm can't lose it here too many they could be worse what if I can affect them they'd be crazy like me

She shrunk down into her blanket, looking away from the others. She couldn't let her powers get away from her. She couldn't let them claim someone eI can'lse in a flare-up.

Somebody HELP no STAY AWAY I can't take it they can't take it make it stop

The deck of cards clattered angrily off the desk as its 12-year old, frustrated owner tossed them over his shoulder violently. Marcus flopped on to the bed in the simple room face-first, too frustrated and annoyed to do anything else, orange hair flying up and rearranging itself back on his head, more disheveled than before.

Ever since he had realized he had been changed into a Wild God, he had been in a bad mood to say the least. The first thing he had felt that morning was disbelief. There was no way he could go out and fight demons, the scourge of what little land remained in the Universe, with magic powers and potentially getting killed. Sure, he admired them, but that didn't mean he [i[wanted[/i] to be them. The second was anger. He had already fit in to his Third Haven neighborhood and school, he didn't want to be taken away from his friends and late nights of card games and a generally normal life. He had said little since then, simply sulking in the long car ride. Never before had he wished more for a normal life.

However, there was some kind of optimism still left in Marcus. He was looking forward to seeing the extent of his power, and what kind of people he would be working with. It was exciting, but only a little. He slowly stood back up, bending down to pick up the playing cards scattered all over the floor. Still fuming slightly, he listlessly shoved them back into the paper box, dropping the box into a pocket. It would be almost time to go, so he quickly tied his messy, orange hair up in a ponytail, spiking the back up a little bit. A tiny blip of a thought, unwarranted, seemed to fall from nowhere into Marcus' head, forcing him to react the first way he could think of.

"I'll be ready in a minute!" he yelled out to the caretaker outside, who had only time to make a single knock on the door before the Marcus' voice rang out. As they scurried down the hall, he rubbed his head. That was the first time that happened. He suspected it would be the first of many. He shrugged it off and slipped his hoodie on, leaving the front open to a normal t-shirt. He opened the door again, and seeing the caretaker arriving again, followed them down the modern, carpeted hallway. The sound of voices grew louder, and the hallway opened up to a congregation of newly-Bestowed Wild Gods, people with the same powers as him. It was kind of breathtaking, seeing all these people in one place, but Marcus shook it off. He'd have to wait until some dude named Arven or something talked to them about powers. He moved over to the wall and sat down against it, sighing a little bit. Today was going to be a very weird day.

"As if it already hasn't been," he muttered to himself.

Matilda Plum woke up. She did not know where she was.

Panic held her. Where was she? How had she gotten there? What was happening? Why was the bed a different shape? Why were the sounds of the street outside different?

She thrust out a hand for her nightstand, and the little orange plastic bottle that was there, sitting on the corner next to her glasses. It wasn’t. Neither was the nightstand. She rolled over to the other side of a bed she couldn’t remember ever being in her home, and her hand hit the corner of a bedside table. She fished around, touched a plastic water bottle and the smaller orange one. She grabbed both, popped the screw cap off the small bottle, and shook out two round pills. Matilda swallowed them dry – she’d never noticed it before, but they tasted like chalk - and chased them with water.

Deep breathing and memories came next. Who? Matilda Plum. Where? First Haven. When? She’d come in late last night, on a shuttle from London. Why?

Because she’d become a god.

She stopped there as her memories joined her body in a state of wakefulness. She’d woken up yesterday and the world had been, well, not different. But sharper. Focused. And fragile. She’d rolled over that morning to slap the snooze button on her alarm clock, and struck it hard enough to crack the glass clock face. She’d been thinking about how she would replace it over breakfast when there -

There was a knock at her door, and she had to hurry to untangle herself from her sheets. Putting on her glasses, she walked to the door and rested her ear against it.

“H-hello?” She said.

“Wake up and get ready please. We’ll be heading to Grayhall in five minutes.”

Matilda didn’t say anything, but she heard the person – a Caretaker, they’d been called – leave with her now-keen hearing.

Matilda threw on the clothes she’d been wearing yesterday – a thin sweater, jeans, well-worn sneakers, and a light, short coat because she tended to chill easily. She had been deliberately ignorant of the specifics regarding godhood. She’d assumed that she would be able to return home after a short talking to, and as such had packed only a light travel bag of toiletries and a change of underwear. She hadn’t expected to be taking up new residence. She would need to have the rest of her belongings shipped to her by post.
She started to leave but stopped at the door, resting her forehead against the wood. She took a few slow breaths, hand hesitating on the doorknob.

There would be people out there. Other gods, like her. People she would be, likely, expected to get to know and communicate with. What would they think of her? What would she think of them? Could she make it through this first day? This first hour? She checked the pocket of her coat, to make sure the little orange, white-capped bottle of pills was still there.

"I can do this."

---

She couldn't do this.

Matilda had known it would be hard. But she hadn’t known, hadn’t considered the scale of what the Bestowal entailed. She’d assumed, again, something on an individual basis, akin to an interview. She might have been able to deal with that.

Instead she’d been shuffled into the eponymous hall, with dozens of other gods. People all around her, so close she could hardly breath. It was too much. She couldn’t handle this. She heard her heart beating in her throat.

She hadn’t showered. What if her hair was messed up? Did her glasses have smudges on them? She knew she was very tall for a woman. What if they didn’t like that?

Easy, Matilda told herself, you just need another dose. Turning into a god must have affected how the medicine works. Just take another dose, and you’ll calm down.

She put her hand in her pocket to take out the pill bottle, and -

What if they saw her taking the pills? What would they think of her?

Her hand seized in her pocket as “What-If” ran its course like a fever. What if the pills didn’t work at all? What if she wasn’t allowed to have them?

She looked at the god closest to her, a man around her height with a generally disheveled appearance. He looked like he’d been on the business end of a cat, and one of his fingers was in a splint. If he turned to look at her right now, what would happen? Would he smile? Sneer? What if he laughed? What if they told her she couldn’t be a god, that they didn’t have a place for her, didn’t want her?

What if the demons attacked First Haven, right then and there?

Matilda thought she could feel the synapses in her brain fizzing like soda bubbles. She swayed, and put a hand on the shoulder of her splint-fingered neighbor to steady herself.

“Sorry. Excuse me.” She said. She felt beads of sweat work their way down her brow, and her stomach roll.

The head Caretaker watched the group with the detached interest of a teacher nearing retirement; obviously hopeful for them, but quite aware that their wellbeing wouldn't be her undertaking for long. She had been the first, chosen by Arven himself to help the new and usually confused or scared Wild Gods come to terms with what they were. At first she hadn't understood why she'd been chosen, hadn't understood much of anything, but it became apparent quickly why she was necessary... After all, despite his features, Arven wasn't human. He was the god of humanity, knew the thoughts and needs and issues of each individual in the world... But while he comprehended it all, he couldn't always empathize with them, couldn't always say what needed to be said, or do what needed to be done.

That was where she came in. She, and all those who had followed as the years passed after the End. To be a link to normality, to humanity. To make sure that the so called Wild Gods remembered that they were men and women; to keep them humble, hale, and hearty. To keep their spirits high in times of trial and their homes cared for while they were away. To make sure they worked.

As she passed along the outer edge of the crowd she eyed a well-dressed man in a suit glancing about the group. To him she stepped up with a slight bow of the head, saying simply; "Your kerchief is a bit crooked, dear." Before moving on.

Next to him stood a woman of dark complexion and smoky green eyes; about a moment away from her heel breaking and her drink spilling all over the suit-clad man. Silently the Caretaker moved between them, catching the woman as she began to fall backwards and offering to take her broken shoes and have them replaced. Thanks were exchanged and another caretaker sent to find a pair.

As one of her own glanced at her with a look of confusion at the overwhelming pace of his charges speech she angled over, letting the Wild God in charge of engineering take note that she was sending him away before offering a simple smile and said by way of apology; "We Caretakers have other matters to attend to, I'm afraid. Why don't you chat with the others here for the meeting?"

She passed a conversation most enthusiastic; a boy speaking of his newfound ability to speak to his pet bird, and a woman encouraging him to see what he could get it to do. A small smile struck her then; not just her lips, but her eyes, and her heart. It was always good to know that at least some of the crop was on the right track.

Continuing to flit around the outer edge of the crowd she took note of a disheveled young still bound in a blanket. It wouldn't be readily apparent to most, but the way she anxiously wrapped it about her tighter alerted the eldest Caretaker that the young woman had mislaid some personal goods... namely part of her clothing. Raising two fingers up she was suddenly surrounded by her former caretakers, and in low tones she bid them fetch a proper set of clothes for the girl. They came back bearing a black t-shirt and navy jeans, a flower-print dress, and a hoodie and cargo-pants respectively; each having chosen according to a different taste for variety's sake. Hefting the bundle under one arm she walked over to the miserable looking girl and gently laid the clothing next to her. "There's a few sets of clothes for you, dear." She offered sweetly, turning around to see the man who had brought the flowery dress speed-walking towards her with a shade under his arm. Together they propped it up, and she hurriedly shooed him away. "Go ahead and change behind the shade, I'll make sure no one peeks." She said with a wide and kindly grin. She seemed fine, as of yet, unburdened by Jennifer's power.

"Arven will be out in three more minutes, ladies and gentlemen." One of the other caretakers said, looking to her for approval. She offered him a nod in reply and continued to stand guard over the underdressed girl.

---

"Hasn't been what?" Asked a young girl with a somewhat squeaky voice, her big blue eyes looking up at Marcus. She seemed younger than him, but her gaze was much more confident, as though being a goddess and meeting the First Minister was no big deal.

--

Kendall's mind raced as the Caretakers bid them to mingle, completely uncertain who to talk to, or what to say.

There looked to be perhaps 20 of them in all, most were quiet, withdrawn. By the eastern wall a tall high-cheekboned woman stood talking to a short Latino boy; there was a small bird on the boy's shoulder and as they spoke he motioned his hands and had it perform tricks for her applause. In the foremost part of the crowd a muscular man with short red hair, ruddy cheeks, and a t-shirt bearing the words 'God of Stuff', which he had made by asking his caretaker to get him some fabric paint once he realized a little of what he could do. A woman in a tracksuit was leaning against the west wall, her tapping foot a blur of motion. A man in his sixties lay on the ground in the middle of the crowd, casually grabbing up at people and idly flicking through their wallets, but not a single person saw him except for the head Caretaker who resolved to deal with him once the young woman lacking clothes was dealt with.

His uncertainty was brought to an end by a sudden touch on the shoulder that he did his best not to jump and shriek in response to. Of course... holding back his startled scream he managed to... "Hic!" Give himself the hiccups. "N..Hnc! No problem. I'm sure you didn't mea HnGG! -n to." He nodded his head and held out a hand to shake... his injured hand, only to pull it back and present the other one instead in a rather awkward and ungainly gesture.

"I'm Kendall." He offered with a wide grin that he hoped came across as kind, but was a bit screwed up when another hiccup caught him off guard and made his body give a twitch. "Pretty hk! crazy stuff, right?"

---

In the room just outside the god of Humanity prepared himself. He could feel the new Wild Gods just one room over, the mixed emotions flaring. Some were proud, or thrilled. Others he found terrified or confused. One young woman was such a jumble of thoughts and emotions that he feared his protection of the head Caretaker wouldn't hold at first. These were the new generation of champions. There were the preservation of mankind; and it was his job to make sure they accepted, and succeeded.

"One more year." He whispered to himself, the way he had every year since the End. Every day since the End. Just one more year and he or they would figure out how to put an end to the seemingly endless war of attrition. To seal away or get rid of the demons. Eventually they had to... The 'Powers that had been' as he called them had a plan for the eventual end to the fighting. They had a way to fight back... But it had been lost when they had, sacrificing themselves for a handful of mankind. Instead of working with them to put an end to the fighting he had been left alone to LEAD it; a task he felt that no being was truly up to, especially himself.

Still; he did his damnedest. He'd kept them alive for thirteen years through his leadership, his abilities, and when it had come down to it his teeth and nails. Reaching out with his power then he quested through the crowd, refreshing himself on their Domains. The little thing at the heart of each of their abilities. Some of this years crop were especially intriguing, others a bit disheartening; he only hoped that they would all do what needed to be done.

"There's a few sets of clothes for you, dear."

make it stop make them go aw-

what

"Go ahead and change behind the shade, I'll make sure no one peeks."

"Oh. Um, th- thanks."

The head Caretaker's act of kindness shocked Jennifer out of her thoughts for a brief and very welcome moment. She grabbed the hoodie and cargo pants- baggy and concealing, perfect- and ducked behind the offered shade.

Oh thank... well her, I guess. These are better than a blanket. Not to hide me, but to make sure nobody looks.

Jennifer clutched the blanket to her for a moment longer before folding it neatly and pulling the hoodie over her head.

The people here are so nice... I hope this Arven can help me.

She finished changing, folded her sweatpants into the blanket and looked down at herself.

oh hell.

It seemed her powers had acted without control again. The hoodie now advertised her status as "YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE" in letters that looked like they had been painted on in blood. Everyone else would see it as a normal design, but she could see crimson droplets falling at her feet.

"Um... I've finished. Thank you for the clothes, I'm sorry about the changes."

I didn't mean to I can't help it I can't hide in this

She held out the bundled blanket and pants, looking at the floor rather than the Caretaker before her.

"It's... a good name for a rock band, isn't it? I thought about it and it just showed up, I can take it off. I think."

Matilda looked at the offered hand, and withdrew from it as though into a shell, arms close to her body lest they be tempted to take the hand and shake it.

“I’m sorry, I’m … I don’t…” She looked at the man with a helpless expression. “I’m sorry.”

Inwardly, Matilda screamed. This was awful on a tremendous scale. She had not mentally prepared herself for conversation.

And yet…

“I… I’m Matilda. Matilda Plum.” She said, the words coming haltingly. They felt strained, tight like a muscle that was being used for the first time after years of atrophy.

She felt like if she just focused right on the person in front of her, she would be able to make it through at least the next few hours without throwing up. She did have any basis for why she should feel this way, and it didn’t feel like the pills. This confidence came too easily. But it was there, all the same, and a budding, unfamiliar voice within her told her if she tried to think about it too much, she would lose whatever this feeling was.

“It’s terrifying,” she said. She chanced a look around the room but had to wrench her eyes back to the person in front of her as her legs started to shake.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up if this doesn’t end soon.”

A thought occurred to her, and she covered her face with her hands.

“Oh god, I really hope I’m not the god of throwing up.”

Men, women, and even children all around. Mortimer wasn't sure if he was surprised, worried for them, or happy he wasn't alone. He might have been proud. To be chosen - no matter how randomly - to be of a superior race seemed like a blessing from the gods that had come and gone. This could've been the next chapter in the rare ancient texts that came from the exalteds' praise! That was something he could talk about. He could talk to ALL of them about it. They all had a reason to be interested. Someone might have seen something that would interest him! Old, massive, and mass produced texts concerning god-like power! The parchment that had made blood spill and charity save! The start of the world! As well, the e-

Mortimer's fantasies were broken rather easily by a polite comment. Self-awareness covered him, as did a grateful, close-mouthed smile over his bearded face. He removed the square clothe and buffed his round lenses. After returning them to their place along the straight bridge of his nose, He deftly folded the thin rag and left twin black peaks protruding from his breast pocket. He had little time to verbally thank the caretaker, before he owed her twice as much for sparing him from a nearby woman's drink. He debated whether she could see something of the future, or was just convenient in every way. He took a step aside for those coming to her aid and rounded one hundred eighty degrees.

In front of him now was a woman with the manner and fear that she was about to vomit, and he was no longer feeling at ease. As politely as he could in the rush he was feeling, he snatched a drink from the tray of one caretaker roaming in the crowd. Convenience at it's best here in first haven. A nice change. The water is ice cold. Mortimer thought and, in a more casual pace, took two more for the man alongside the poor gal as well as himself. The man seemed to be in as much strife with strong hiccups and injured... well everything. A barfight could've brought upon everything ailing this gentleman, he considered playfully but dared not say. Instead he found that glee a home when he offered them with a smile the drinks, his deep voice attempting to calm and relieve the tension of this disheveled couple.

"God's Final Message to His Creation: 'We apologize for any inconvenience.'" He recited from a long lost favorite of his. Shaming an unknown power for the couple's current state and at the same time mocking their unique situation. Mortimer scorned himself for speaking in reference that few knew, but did not let it show. "I hope this will help. Remedies provided by Mr. M. Murdoch."

Another smile adorned his face while his eyes searched theirs for any idea what was going on or how they felt about it, besides sick.

Marcus looked back up at the crowd, and pushed himself up off the floor, a thought occurring to him suddenly.

May as well make some connections here, I bet we'll need to form up groups at some point.

He glanced around at the swathe of people in front of him. Problem was, there were a huge amount of people and a lot of them were already talking to others. Marcus started to regret opting for a short nap on the wall instead of socializing like everyone else appeared to be doing.

"Arven will be out in three more minutes, ladies and gentlemen." a caretaker announced somewhere in the crowd. Now would be a better time than ever. Marcus streched his arms, brushing hair out of his face again. He glanced around again, those mingling continuing to be no interest to him. Looking over at an adjacent corner for no reason, he saw a caretaker, and a girl who may as well have been in an pre-End punk rock band, what with her hair being two different colors and her makeup messily applied on her face. She wore a plain-looking hoodie and some jeans, her clothes in sharp contrast to her hair and visage. She struck Marcus as someone unapproachable but someone that would make great company when you had nobody else to talk to, the valuable gemstone inside a dull-looking rock where one would seldom find fortune.

Marcus started walking over towards her, but just as he was a few yards away from the girl, a sense of foreboding washed over him, the kind that makes the hairs on the nape of your neck stand up and a your heart to beat a little bit faster than usual. He stopped, unnerved by this feeling, his legs temporarily refusing to press forward. Something about the girl was a little more eerie up close, a distortion in the way she looked. Dark thoughts ran through Marcus' head, wrested from their rightful place in the back of his mind. He did his best to suppress the affects of this aura as he found himself standing next to the crazy-haired girl.

"So uh... how about this uh..." he started saying, suddenly losing the ability to articulate what thoughts he had. Marcus paused for a moment, rubbing his eyes.
"Yeah I'm not having a good morning," he decided to say instead. He slid down the wall next to her again, looking back up at her. "Thought I should come over and say hi, you seem cool."

"I'm Marcus by the way, probably the god of gambling."

"I'm Marcus by the way, probably the god of gambling."

"Well, you're betting on your sanity, talking to me."

Was that an attempt to be cool? I'd bet that he turns right around and leaves. As he should.

Her thoughts were ordered now, and it was easier to focus. Unfortunately, her inner monologue seemed to be snarkier than usual, taking her insecurities to the forefront of her mind.

"My name is Jennifer... goddess of- well, madness. Pretty sure, since I got the whole goddess feeling and then people started going crazy around me."

Well if your oh-so-edgy opening line didn't scare him off that will. Way to go.

She looked down, not wanting to keep eye contact in case her eyes started changing again. They'd been a stormy grey since she woke up, and she actually liked the color.

"It shouldn't get to you, though. It's slow, and I don't think gods go crazy like regular people. Except me, but I can't get away from my powers..."

Okay that's enough now let him talk psycho girl.

"So... gambling? How'd you find that out, get thrown out of Vegas?"

Matilda saw, out of her peripheral vision, an exceptionally dressed man walking in their general direction, glasses of water in hand. Was he coming towards them? She pleaded with the forces of the universe, whatever amount of them was left, that he was not walking towards them. Talking with just one person was taking everything she had; she couldn’t manage a conversation with two. She just couldn’t. She watched him, a doe tracking a wolf, and then looked away from the awful truth.

He was walking toward them. Walking towards her. Oh hell, oh sh**, oh f***. She glanced at him, and wished she hadn’t.

He was a few inches taller than her, and cut a dashing figure in his suit. Clearly he at least had woken with enough time to get dressed. She felt haggard, standing next to him. He seemed nice, and terminally charming. She could hardly look at him without feeling like she was going to shrivel.

He offered them water. She stuck out a hand, stiff like a pole, and grabbed hold of the glass of water more by luck than anything. It was cold and sweating, like her. She hadn’t put anti-perspirant on that morning. Was she sweating through her shirt? Oh god help her, she must look awful. Everyone had to be looking at her. Judging her. She didn’t want to panic. Was she going to panic? Oh god, thinking about it was making her panic. Her stomach bucked like a fish. She was going to throw up.

She shifted her focus back to Kendall, and she was filled with a heady warmth, like she’d been stuck with an IV of something potent and wonderful. She’d never drunken anything other than water in adult life, but she suddenly understood the phrase ‘liquid courage’. Again a small voice cautioned her not to think too much about it, even though the sensation was out of place, unnatural, and felt a bit like cheating. It wasn’t enough that she felt like she could take on the world, or run up to Arven himself and shake his hand. But she did feel like she’d be able to carry on some semblance of a conversation with these two men without utterly dissolving.

She realized that, while she’d been lost in thought, the new man had said something to her. She worked backwards to try and figure out what it was.

“Matilda. I am. Me. I mean. I’m Matilda Plum. Thank you for the water.” She drank from the cup. It tasted off to her; a bit too clean, and nothing like the taps in London.

Glancing down at the hoodie the caretaker smirked and let loose a small chuckle, seeming amused rather than upset. "It's not bad. A bit straightforward, but not bad. You know when I was about your age I played drums in a group called 'Eyeballs in my Oatmeal'." She winked knowingly, reassuringly, attempting to let the girl know that everything would be alright. "Leave it. Compared to the guy wearing a sandwich costume I'd say you're doing okay." With that she walked away, smiling softly as she did so.

And there, lo and behold, was a young man in a sandwich costume. He peeked his head into the assembly awkwardly, his cheeks flushed red. It just went to show; it took all kinds make a pantheon. If she were to truly look around she would notice other oddities. Amidst the twenty or thirty assembled there was a woman wearing a wedding dress replete with a veil, an older man with no shirt whose torso, neck, and skull were coated in tattoos, and even a girl wearing of those animal onesies called kirugumis.

---

Glancing down at his hand in confusion for a moment Kendall tried to figure out just why she was being so antsy, not that it really mattered. Nerves, germophobia, some sort of dangerous ability; anything was possible really, and considering that it was best not to pry too much. "Pl hk! easure to meet you, Ma Khn! tilda." He said with an expression that looked like he was attempting to force a smile through a wince. Hiccups! Why hiccups? He pondered as he followed her eyes around the room, glancing at the numerous individuals scattered about. They were certainly an... interesting... group. Many of them seemed normal enough, a handful were peculiar but more the kind of peculiar you would have found on a crowded bus before the End than the kind that reeked of marvelous purpose and power, that being said here and there an individual was... changed. Not in big ways; no one had sprouted wings, or horns, or grown extra arms or eyeballs, but there were still peculiarities. Silver hair. Gold colored eyes. A slight glow about the skin. It wasn't the norm, but it was happening, some of the abilities overwriting people.

Glancing down at himself Kendall... "Hic!" Kendall frowned and tried to... "Hn!" He frowned and tried to imagine what would have happened if he'd lucked out and gotten some snazzy update to his look, or even just been able to do away with the bandages and the splint.

His thoughts shattered and his eyes flitted back to Matilda, a small smile crossed his features, much more comfortable this time around. "I'm pretty sure if you were, you'd hn! 've done so at least once already... and that being said; I'm sure it ghnk! would have hc! been memorable."

It was at roughly this time that a bearded man in a fine suit stepped towards both himself and his speaking companion; a welcome interaction, in the best of times, but considering he came bearing water it was made all the more-so. Nodding gratefully Kendall took the cup, and almost instantly placed the hand not holding it over the top. "HNN!" Came a rather large hiccup that shook his shoulders and left him looking rattled. His hand was now cold as he had managed to splash it severely, but his foresight at least meant he hadn't spilled it all over the ground, or himself.

Taking a sip he looked relieved, until roughly a third of the way down his throat the water was suddenly forcefully ejected via another large hiccup. Managing to keep his mouth closed this was made apparent by the rather impressive leak now spouting from his nose. Bowing his head in embarrassment he hurriedly gulped down what remained of the water in his mouth and pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket, carefully blowing his nose. Unfortunately this was not an unusual position for him to find himself in, considering some of his allergies.

As he rose back to a standing position his head swiveled around, questing for a garbage can, but he was a bit startled to find someone standing at his side holding a small aluminum bin up for him to deposit his waste in. The Caretakers, it seemed, were ready for any eventuality.

Turning back to his fellow Wild Gods with an apologetic look upon his features Kendall attempted to get the conversation bak on track. "That's from... Ad... hc!! ams. Douglas Adams, one of his books, right? I read those when I was in middle school, back before..." He trailed off, as people commonly did when bringing up the End.

Hearing Matilda chime in he turned to her again and nodded. "Ah, right. Thank you, Mr. hn.. Murdoch." His hiccups hadn't abated, but it was readily apparent to anyone that they were lessening.

---

A hush settled over the hall as a tall man in a dark gray suit stepped out from behind a curtain. He was thing, gaunt even, and his eyes were the color of coals still flickering with embers. Above each of those burning eyes was what looked like a long scar trailing back into his hairline, a reminder of the life he had left behind, and the form he had forsaken. His features were lean and striking; his skin and general build made him appear as though he had stepped off the screen of a Hollywood movie about an ancient Pharaoh and directly into a tailors to get himself fitted for the clothes he wore. His nails were thick and black, and as he stepped to the podium they sunk into the wood out of sight of those assembled. Nervousness was not something he was prone to feeling, but this time of year he did... these mortals, these humans were not true deities, but in their collective presence he could remember what it was like to face one. The awe and fear and adoration it had inspired in him. The reason he had turned on his murderous kin for something more than himself.

Clearing his throat the man drew the attention of nearly all assembled, even those few who had been making an active effort to ignore him.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Million." He began, his back straight, his jaw firm, and his gaze sweeping the room intently. "My name, as you will likely have surmised by now, is Arven. It is my honor and duty as First Minister to welcome you all to Grayhall. More importantly it falls upon me to welcome you to your new lives." Closing his eyes he allowed himself a moment in which to remember the faces of each individual gathered, as he did every year, making certain that were they to fall someone would remember them.

"You have been chosen by fate..." A small smile crossed his lips as he said this, fleeting but vibrant. He could still recall the first time he had encountered the Wild Gods, just after the end. Where instead of pretty words like fate he had said simply 'what the hell is going on' in confusion and outrage. Though; by this point only a handful would remember that, he supposed. "Chosen to preserve humanity."

He took another pause, this one more planned, and opened his eyes. "You have been granted power, but also opportunity. The opportunity to be leaders among men, and to do what all great leaders should aspire to do; to teach, to protect, and to inspire." He stepped back from the podium and around to the small steps leading from the stage to the main floor.

"Some of you know what I'm talking about, but for those who don't, I'll be blunt. The demons are out there, I can smell the reek of their infernal power all around us, as you will learn to in time. They are out there, and they seek to do us harm. Many of you have lost lives to their number both in the End and after it; pets, friends, children, parents, lovers. Families have been torn asunder, homes shattered, and a universe ended by their senseless and rapacious existence."

He stepped nearer to the wild gods. Several noticeably backed away, the boy with the bird stood there in awe, staring up at the towering man as he spoke to him. "You've been given a great gift, Carter. You, dear boy, are the Wild God of birds. A vast and powerful aspect which with training could allow you to save hundreds, even thousands of lives." The mighty First Minister, a powerful demon, and the god of humanity then did something which no Wild God had ever spoken of with the common people. What he had done at each of these ceremonies since the informal first. He bowed low and said in a half-broken whisper; "Please, child. Please help us." After a long moment wherein the boy's face seemed to flicker through a maelstrom of emotion he nodded, and Arven rose and shook his hand. "Bless you."

Moving to the next individual, the woman who had been speaking to Carter, he smiled and spoke once more; "Lizbeth." He began, sighing softly. "You too have been blessed. I sense within you the aspect of Charity. While it's power is not so great, it could make you a capable and competent leader, and could bring you much love and happiness in the future. Despite that I must ask..." He bowed low again, his head all but touching the floor. "Please, dear girl, please help us." She gingerly touched his shoulder, bidding him to rise, and nodded, her eyes tearing up at the humility of such an important figure pleading with her, her heart almost breaking with the urge to help. He shook her hand and moved on, with the same parting words; "Bless you."

And so it went for some time as he went to each of the new Wild Gods in turn. Most assented after his words, some agreed without even letting him speak. The man in the sandwich costume raised a hand to silence him and the pair held a hushed conversation over a long and tenuous moment after which he once more offered the same handshake, blessing him once more.

Each, and every new deity.

...

"Smith. The god of Engineering. A fascinating subject, and one with great applications in the coming battles against demon-kin should you decide to aid us... A mighty power, indeed." He bowed his head; "Please, help us."

...

"Mortimer. God of the written language. You could live an easy life as a writer, or an editor, or even in the position you now hold... but I have a feeling you want more. I think you've half decided to join already..." He smiled and gazed into Mortimer's eyes and in that moment he spoke without speaking, something that only Mr. Murdoch would hear. You, especially, we'll need for the coming battles, Mr. Murdoch. You see... I can't read the language of God. With this cryptic message he bowed his head and said; "Please, help us, good sir."

...

"Yes." Kendall said, even before Arven managed to open his mouth. He was trembling, but wasn't sure if it was nerves or excitement. All his life he had been a screw-up, a fall-guy, a klutz, and a loser. He was comfortable with his lot in life, if not thrilled with it, and managed to be happy enough besides; but who wouldn't want more? Who wouldn't want a chance to not just be tolerated, but adored. To not just be useful, but a savior? He hiccuped and forced a grin apologetically.

Smiling at the swift response Arven took his hand, and bowing said; "Bless you, Kendall, God of Lost Causes." Leaving Kendall horribly confused, but giddy.

...

"Matilda, dear girl." He said lightly, looking down at the bespectacled young agoraphobic. "You've shown great bravery in coming here, despite yourself. I thank you for it. But I'm afraid I must ask more of you. You know what I mean to say, and you're scared. That's understandable, and no one would fault you if you said no... but I still have to ask, and all I can offer in return is the knowledge that you are stronger than you think." The way he said it made it seem unquestionable, not a statement but a FACT that could not be denied. "And that you have my trust, oh Goddess of the Between." He bowed and said softly; "Please, help us."

...

Eventually making his way to the mad girl Arven loosed a soft sigh, and uncharacteristically raised his hand and gently touched Jennifer's cheek. "Poor girl..." He said lightly, his ember eyes stricken and sad like those of a parent consoling their child. "You have been given an awesome and terrible power, but it's price is great." He sighed and stepped back a bit. "Jennifer, Goddess of Madness; should you choose to aid us I tell you now that these people are those with some level of immunity to your ability. Until we can find a way to better control your power these are the people it's safe for you to be around, the few who could be your friends, your new family, if you let them." He smiled sadly and bowed. "Please, help us."

...

"Marcus, dear boy. As I'm sure you're already aware you have been granted a new life as the God of Gambling. A bit young for it, but who am I to bicker over vices?" He asked with a slightly mischievous grin that faded almost as soon as it touched his face. "I'm asking you now to take a gamble with the highest odds possible; risk your life. If you win, you will have fame, glory, and the continuation of human existence. If you lose, well..." He bowed his head, asking as he had every other time; "Please help us."

Kendall said something. Matilda caught most of it, deciphering through the hiccups. She worked up her nerve to respond.

And then Arven entered the room.

It was like staring into the sun. Her eyes, her brain, were not wired to witness all of that splendor. She was going to burn up. Matilda covered her face with her hands and shook. She was crying, and didn't know why. She shouldn't be here. She didn't deserve to be here. In front of these incredible people and the savior of humanity, she must have been a sorry sight indeed.

She felt the hush around her as Arven came before her. Heard him name her, and her domain. Moved her hands long enough to see him bow. It was too much. She couldn't take it.

"Don't," she said, shaking her head. "Please, just don't. I'll do it. I'll stay. I'll help however I can. Just please, don't bow to me. I'm not worth that."

(Whoops! Wish I could delete multi-posts!)

(Whoops again! Stupid misleading server errors...)

Jennifer stayed silent for a few minutes, staring at the spot where Arven had stood before her.

Help? How could I help anyone? I can't even handle myself...

"...these are the people it's safe for you to be around, the few who could be your friends, your new family, if you let them."

I need them. And... somehow... they need me.

"I'll do it. I'll do... what I can. To help. Help my family."

She spoke to the air in front of her, a tear sliding unnoticed down her cheek.

But what was he?

Marcus snorted in derision at the comment the punk-rock girl, Jennifer, had said.

"No, haven't gambled in my life before now," he explained. "Moment I woke up, and everythin' was clearer and brighter and stuff, I knew I was one. Only took an afternoon with one of my friends to figure out what my Domain was."

He took out a single, worn six-sided die from one of his pockets.

"I keep a lot of trinkets and knick-knacks around, just kept sorting through them until it finally clicked. Didn't have to go to Vegas to find out."

A guttural yet civilized noise rang out throughout the room coming from the podium, the sound of a man clearing his throat. Marcus turned to the front of the room, where a lean yet well-built man stood, finely dressed, his eyes a sinister shade of grey, and a gaunt-looking face. It was as if a fire burned inside him, controlled but destructive all the same. His presence seemed to dominate the room, but it was not one that Marcus feared, rather, he was in awe of the power he held just by being there.

His powerful voice resonated throughout the room as he made his speech to the dozens of Wild Gods in the room. After some time, he stepped down from the podium, and prayed to each God. Marcus could not hear what he was saying, but as Arven neared to where he and Jennifer were standing, it sounded like a plea for help. Before long, Arven reached Marcus.

The calm and collected facade that Marcus had built up shattered as the words left an impact on him.

"I can't promise anything... but I'll try," he said, voice shaking a little bit. He unconsciously brushed back a lock of orange hair as he breathed heavily, trying to keep his composure. He had never thought about risking his life before for anyone, not even friends or family. And yet, he accepted that this was his fate, to die entrusting the future to those he had died for.