[IC] Melodramatic Deities and an Ageless Taste for Pizza

[Mortim]

Pahn would gaze down upon Anora, another slight look of sympathy singeing his noble features. He would not interrupt her, rather, he would observe. He was comparable to a teacher looking down on a young student during an expression of their partially misguided dreams. By end of Anora's speech, his face once more held that distant half-smile it typically does. Perhaps he always finds himself thinking of the pleasant things this world reminds him of.

"Alright." Is Pahn's only verbal response. His relaxed demeanor silently carries him behind Anora upon whatever path she chooses to take. For him, this is a time to say his own goodbye to a way of life he's lived far longer than most mortals might imagine.

Pahn's eyes first linger on the buildings which surround him. His brow grows tense just above sinking eyes. His jaw tightens whilst his lips relax. He looks as an old man prepared to say story after story about the lands he's visited whilst he lay on his death bed, awaiting the pull of his creator.

Pahn's eyes would secondly seek those surrounding him, the pedestrians of this place. With each passing person his eyes sink deeper into mourning. The emotions of his plight are pushed outward as his lips frown in slight, a contained sadness swallowing his expression. Said sorrow may not appear to be overwhelming him, but distress such as this has rarely been witnessed.

Pahn would soon rectify himself upon reaching Anora's apartment, his face shifting towards familiar shapes. Nobility clasps him in it's fullest frame. Shoulders square themselves, his back straightens, and his legs maintain an unearthly balance. His hands sink into either pocket as his head leans slightly backwards. He shows resemblance to nobility gazing softly down upon his servants, hiding either hand as if there was never a labor meant for them.

"I assume you're ready, then." He would gently say upon Anora finishing her note-writing. She would be given ample time to complete whatever 'goodbye's' she might deem necessary, our celestial awaiting her preparation with outstanding patience. Something profound occurs after this last statement. Pahn slowly blinks, his eyes visibly luminescent upon opening. His body's musculature gains further definition, supernatural strength now blatantly dwells beneath overly tightened skin. His aura bleeds further into open space, an authority over natural reality preceding all thought pertaining to him. Small specks of luminous blueish-silver populate the air near his head for several seconds as the curls of his ivory hair slowly unwind as if they'd been emerged in liquid. His long hair now flows elegantly in all directions, pushed by an unseen wind.

After Pahn metamorphosis's from muscular hobo to god, the world itself also undergoes alteration. The air grows thick, feeling like a humidity not based in moisture or other natural law has reared it's head. The sky outside Anora's window changes, the colors of our atmosphere deepening into dark shades of navy blue. Even so, daylight illuminates everything just as brightly as it had before. Alongside this, slight rumbling can be heard in the distance intermixed with several sporadic shouts from the street below.

"This, Anora, is the power I had sealed. My presence is the fuel of ancient myths. Though, I suppose it's inevitable my legacy should resurface before it's end.." Pahn's words echo far into the deepest corners of Anora's mind, being carried both audibly and telepathically towards her in simultaneous motion. His voice is now heavy, a tone of true composure populating said utterance. His sculpted features shimmer reflectively beneath flowing hair and the glowing eyes of a predator king.

As off-setting as these events may be, all of it will feel eerily familiar to Anora. She could likely swear she'd been in a place like this for quite a measurable time when she was young, or, that she had visited a land like our current Earth during the summers of school. Pahn's voice is oddly comforting, as if he carried the body of someone even her parents had shown admiration for.

Should Anora peer outdoors during all of this, she'd witness something surreal. Just below her apartment building were three average caucasian males wearing typical modern clothes walking down the center of the street. Their pale body's were carried by clumsy composure, each labored step nearly causing them to collapse. Cars had halted and veered to the sidewalks in attempting to avoid this seemingly distressed trio.

The three would walk towards the wall of vehicles and honking horns for several seconds before performing something miraculous. Once having come near a vehicle, the man in the center would slowly reach forward to touch the car before him. Upon contacting metallic surface, his hand would glow a silvery-white and *poof*, just like that, the car and all of it's inhabitants were soundlessly converted from metal and flesh into crystalline dust. This dust dissolves in the light breeze and floats away as an ambiguous cloud of mist. *Poof-Poof* Several other cars are similarly afflicted before people begin to panic. They slowly continue on for time, turning cars into to dust until all that stands in their way is no more.

Screams and sirens can be heard as an ambiance roughly thirty-seconds later, small tendrils of mist now rising from streets both near and far. *SCREE!!* A jet black mustang rushes into the now open path created by our three pale, shambling men. This transport runs one of them into the ground, stopping just beyond the other two. From it's left door steps a suited woman with red hair, her thin form standing in the open for a brief set of motions. From her left jacket pocket is drawn one small revolver. *Bang-Bang-Bang!* Each bullet is accompanied by a green flash, all of them meeting their marks between the eyes of a pale-shambler. Even the now run-over man had been shot, all of them suddenly freezing in place. Their skin changes from flesh to stone, their clothes and body's being fully petrified within seconds of being shot. With this, the red-headed woman slips back into her car and jets down the road likely in search of further threats.

During this initial immersion into madness, Pahn had closed his eyes. He looked to be acclimating, taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth whilst strands of his hair flowed as water about him. Something about this told Anora not to disturb him, a deep instinct reminding her of a scolding she feels she'd rather not remember.

"We should be off to the gorgon capital.-" Pahn would say whilst opening his eyes, the echo of his voice likely feeling as an odd adjustment. "-Are there any questions or further tasks you must complete before we depart?" Though he now exudes a more commanding presence, this in no way means he feels hostile or in opposition of others. Even so, he may appear intimidating to those whom aren't acclimated to his natural form.

[Riven Wight]

Anora looked back over her shoulder again at Pahn’s laconic answer to her speech. She gave a slight shrug, content that he was following, then led the way toward her apartment. She cast him frequent glances, growing uneasy from his expression and the way he looked at everything. Like he walked toward his death, soaking in everything he could. Or, perhaps, not his death, but the world’s.
She took a deep breath, and looked to the many people and cars going about their business as usual. For them, it was just another day, nothing more, oblivious to the danger creeping beneath their feet. Unknowing their world my very well be turned upside down in just a few short hours.
Pahn’s words ran through her head, that he was the one about to bring on an apocalypse. She cast yet another wary glance back at him, wondering if he had meant it directly or indirectly, as an aftereffect of what he had planned to regain his regalia, or by his hand perhaps in part from some deep seeded hatred for the place. As little as she knew about what was to come, there was one thing she was certain of: she would do everything in her power to defend the place she called home, and keep as many people—not just those she cared for—safe and alive as she could. No matter what that meant.
The path to her apartment was one she could have walked blind. As the multi-story building and its neighbors all huddled around a grassy courtyard came into view, she felt a moment of minor panic as she realized she had not checked for her keys. Worried she had left them in the car with her wallet back in the parking lot, she reached fully into one of her pockets as they arrived at the building’s entrance. She let out a soft, "Phew," when she felt them inside, then pulled the door open, and quickly ascended the stairs to her floor.
Once inside the small living room that served as the entrance, Anora turned around to look to Pahn, taking a couple backward steps toward her bedroom. She stopped as he entered behind her, his appearance already making the peeling wallpaper and dingy lighting look that much worse in comparison.
Anora could not help but grin and cross her arms as she marveled at the contrast.
“Make yourself at home.” She gestured to a small, worn love seat shoved against the wall opposite the door, a coffee table marred with rings in front of it, then hurried down the short hall to her bedroom.
Just before she closed the door behind her, she peaked out of it. After listening to make sure he did not decide to walk back out, she shut the door, leaving it open a crack.
She turned to her desk and shoved some of the drawings and paintings cluttering it aside, nearly knocking over a brush-filled cup of paint water, but stopped. She stared down at them for a long moment. She gently placed her fingertips on the topmost picture, the half-painted sketch of a bloody battle with both human-like and monstrous figures slaughtering each other. They looked about ready to jump off the page and wage their war in her room as they had in her head.
For so long, she had felt all but a slave to her mysterious dreams, a captive to what they had to show her, leaving her only capable of drawing them out to maintain her sanity. But now, she stood her ground against the very things they were about, with a man she felt held answers to all their secrets, at last more of a player in them instead of a pawn. As horrific as many of them were, a sense of rightness seeped through her.
But she had another job to do first.
Pulling herself from her thoughts, she hurriedly grabbed a piece of notebook paper from a drawer, and started writing with the first pen she could find, trying to explain everything in as few, quick words as she could.
A couple crumpled pages, many scribbled out lines, and no small amount of frustration later, Anora had a nearly completed note as good as she could hope for under the circumstances. She paused for a moment, twirling a strand of her died black hair, then wrote the last couple lines:

This is something I have to do. For my sake, and yours. Please understand. I’ll see you again soon.
Stay safe. I love you all.
Anora.

Hoping her words would not be a lie, she carefully folded the letter and placed it in an envelope she addressed to her family. With that done, she turned toward the rest of her bedroom. She gave it a quick once-over, scowling at the dresser with the drawer she had broken earlier, its contents still strewn through the room.
As quickly as she could, she grabbed the backpack sitting at the foot of her bed, and exchanged the set of work clothes shoved inside for a few items she thought may come in handy, including a flashlight, a small multi-tool she kept in her nightstand, a few clothing items, the thick drawing pad she was rarely without, and a small pouch with an impressive collection of pencils, pens, and a couple erasers.
With a nod of approval, she shouldered the backpack, grabbed the envelope from the desk, and left, holding her breath as she waited to find out if Pahn would still be there. She sighed in relief when she saw him standing in the middle of the room despite her invitation to sit.
She gave him a nod in greeting as she headed to the coffee table, and propped the envelope on a mug she had forgotten to put in the sink, making sure it would be easily spotted. Straightening, she pulled her phone from her pocket.
Something tells me they probably don’t get service in the Underworld. She placed the cellphone beside the note.
At last, she turned back to Pahn, “Thanks for waiting.” She nodded when he spoke. An apprehensive, yet excited smile spread over her face. “Let’s go save the world, shall we?”
She took a slight step back when he opened his eyes, now aglow with a silvery light. Her eyes were glued to him as an awesome aura radiated from him and filled the small apartment, an aura speaking of power and age beyond Anora's wildest imaginings, and his form became impossibly more perfect, the sensation all but drowning out the atmospheric change.
She gasped and flinched when a faint rumbling sounded. It took her a second to realize the sound had come from outside the building. She spun toward a window facing the street. From where she stood, she could only see the change in the sky, the once light blue covered with fluffy clouds suddenly unnaturally dark in color. Before she could go to the window, a few shouts rising up through the pane from the street, her attention snapped back to Pahn as he spoke.
She inhaled at the disorientating feeling of his voice, a voice worthy of the most powerful of kings, echoing in both her ears and mind in an all-consuming wave.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she breathed, though she did not expect him to answer. She stared at him for a couple seconds that felt like minutes. Though she knew she had never witnessed such a transformation, the familiarity of it all nagged maddeningly at the back of her skull. Had she seen something like this in one of her dreams, or was it something more?
There’s no way I could’ve forgotten a dream like this. Again, she turned her head from Pahn as cars laid on their horns. She glanced once between him and the window, then rushed to the window, yanking the curtains back and peering outside.
Her eyes widened and mouth opened slightly at the scene unfolding before her. She got there in time to see the men turn only a couple cars and their passengers to dust. She looked up as more of the swirling mist that was all that remained from their victims rose into the air above the city in different parts of town. Frantically, she tried to pry the window open, to shout a warning about the three men heading down her street to those they had not gotten to, but the window stuck.
She stopped in her attempts and gripped the windowsill tightly when someone ran one of the men over. She watched, dumbfounded, as the seemingly normal woman got out of her car and fired rounds at them, turning them to stone, before returning and speeding off.
Anora slowly backed away from the window, her grip the last thing to leave it. Had he conjured the beings on a murderous rampage?
She spun back toward Pahn, her mouth opening to speak, not caring what her words may interrupt, but it snapped shut when the inexplicable instinct warned her against it. But she did not have long to wait before he opened his eyes and spoke once more, his words still sounding unnervingly through her skull.
Still, her fists clenched and she glanced toward the window as the sounds of sirens grew closer. Despite his intimidating presence, a mix of confusion, fear, and righteous fury mingled on her face and glinted in her eyes as her gaze met his.
“What did you just do?” she hissed, each word short and snapped as purple mist swirled to life threateningly around her fists without her conscious command, making her eyes glow once more.

[Mortim]

Anora wouldn't have noticed initially, such being due to slow acclimation, but, a rush of energy would flow into her body. This would feel as if water had flowed through her skin into the core of her entire body, followed by the unstoppable yet slowly fading sensation of a limb waking up. Said nigh-uncomfortable feeling would spread from head to toes until she eventually overcome with an intense impression of being refreshed. It's as if blood had finally begun flowing to some vital organ she had been entirely unaware of.

Alongside all described feelings would come an outward surge of magical energy. The waves of power swirling over her hands by threatening motion would more closely resemble small torrential twisters. Sparks and tendrils spin just centimeters from her body as they lightly collide with the walls and the floor. These waves of power would expand five times over in just several short seconds, twirling into curtains and couches alike with uncontrolled shocks and bursts of smoke. Anora's power had apparently greatly increased, some outward force fueling her inner energies. Though, before things could escalate too far, Pahn's eye's would intensify their glow alongside an odd effect. Anora's powers would be instantly snuffed out with Pahn's intensified stare, dissipating entirely in less than a second. He wouldn't exude any special aura aside from this neutralizing force he'd propelled in the girls direction. Their would only be very slight collateral damages in Anora's wake, her expanding powers having been more of a quickly rising wind than a rippling explosion.

Pahn now sighs by the girls question, his eyes closing for a brief moment as he looks forward by intense contemplation. "I've already told you, I've been hiding my powers away. These are the aftereffects. Those that are unprepared are submerged in a world of magics they don't understand. The result is a blinded human hardly capable of controlling a newfound strength. I'm sorry for this, but, I've done nothing other than exist in my natural state." His tone carries a faint hint of mourning alongside it's typical surplus of ego and confidence.

Outside the sky grows ever darker, a deep navy blue sinking what was day into night. Stars and many other celestial body's can be seen in a far greater clarity than they ever could before. Several seconds further and the sky becomes no different than one found in the antarctic despite time of day. Sirens can still be heard ringing alongside the occasional scream or shout. People must think of this as the end of the world. Regrettably, they wouldn't be far off from the truth.

"We should be off soon, if you feel you're ready that is." Pahn would say after another seconds pause, his deliberate lack of movement and pacing of speech being that of royal origin.

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One powerful wizard makes Earth landfall. He is apprenticed to a distant government of expansive power and resource. They'd detected magical swells of energy near one of their more distant sections of territory, thus sending a trusted agent to assess the situation. They've only but heard the legends of Pahn and Greed, the closest thing of that age being an ancient weapon recovered from an old deserted merchant world. This weapon, and the history recovered alongside it, was plenty enough to make them cautious. Our agent's not the only to be ordered to mother Terra, though he's certainly the first to arrive.

"This rock smells." Our mysterious mans first words of disgust upon entering Anora's current city. He'd arrived via Astral-Warp, a brief flash of purple light being the only thing left in his wake when finally stepping foot on dry ground. None but Pahn detected his arrival, the silver celestial having discarded any thoughts of threat by this seemingly lesser wizard. Of course, this wouldn't always remain true as this being's eyes peered towards a star-riddled afternoon sky. He and his coming band of compatriots would certainly have a part to play in coming events.

[Riven Wight]

Anora gasped when the use of her magic brought yet another sensation lurking at her edges flooded through her. The sensation of a strength, of a power energized from slumbering for longer than she had been alive, forced into complete awareness.
She stumbled back in surprise when her abilities flared to an intensity unlike anything she had ever seen them before. Her backpack met the windowpane behind her as the whirling purple energy formed an angry, tornadic gale that wove its way through the apartment. Flashes of golden electricity enough to make the average man’s hairs stand on end flowed through the currents as they blew a couple pictures from the walls and sent her letter into a frenzied, air-born spiral.
She gritted her teeth and fought against the new strength rising and fighting in her, trying to force it back into submission, but it refused to listen in its excitement of no longer being dormant.
Then Pahn extinguished it with little more than a look. The sense of lost control changed to one of being virtually powerless as Pahn easily nullified her wild surge of magic. The pictures caught in the gale fell to the floor mid-flight, cracks webbing across the glass as they landed, while one soared into the wall and shattered on impact. Her letter floated to the floor near her feet, fluttering downward like a sickly bird shot from the sky as the dulled tinkle of glass falling on carpet filled the now still room. But that restless power still bubbled inside her, begging to be released.
Anora inhaled and held her breath, her attention turning to Pahn as he spoke.
Once he finished, she stared at him for a long moment, the crepuscular light shifting to a darkness that cast the apartment in shadow. The only light of the room came from Pahn himself and what little filtered through the window from the mysterious aurora borealis snaking through the skies, giving her just enough light to make out the familiar shapes of the room.
This was simply him existing. And someone—or something—out there had poisoned him. They wanted to weaken him. If Pahn could do this kind of damage just by being in his “natural state,” there was no telling what kind of evil would be daring enough to confront someone with a power of such magnitude.
She took a deep breath, her shoulders squaring when Pahn spoke again.
She did not answer immediately. Instead, she bent and picked up the envelope at her feet. She stepped back toward the coffee table as she smoothed the letter out, the coffee mug toppled over and teetering dangerously on the edge. Ignoring the mug, Anora placed the letter just beneath her phone, then strode toward the door.
“Then what are we waiting for, Mr. High-and-Mighty?” she asked as she pulled the door open, her brows raising. “Pigs to fly?”
With that, she stepped into the stairwell that linked the building’s floors. The lights that were always on lit the stairs. More litter than usual cluttered them, and she could hear a few people shouting further down, their voices echoing upward in frightened tones. She guessed she and Pahn had missed the initial panicked rush of other denizens of the apartment complex fleeing the building.
Frantic footsteps from above made her step out of the way as a woman pulling a child no older than seven behind her rushed down the stairs, followed by a man carrying a couple suitcases. They all looked confused and terrified as they raced down the stairs, sparing Anora little more than a fearful glance.
Her fists clenched again, but this time she was careful to keep her powers in check as well as she could. She hurried down the staircase, stopping only once to see if Pahn was behind her not.
Upstairs, her phone vibrated on the coffee table. The screen lit up with the word, “Mom” and a picture of a smiling woman with honey-brown hair somewhere in her early forties a second before the refrain of Eurythmics’ “Sweet Dreams” filled the apartment. One of her mother’s favorite 80s songs.
But Anora was not there to hear it.