The meaning was simple enough to determine even if you hadn't studied Latin; Humanity Persists.
The words etched into the marble at the front entryway of the Grayhall building had been the overwhelming motto of mankind after the End. Once all the chaos had ended and people regained some semblance of control it became a chant, a cheer, and cantrip which repeated over and over reminded everyone that the End wasn't the end. The universe had been destroyed. The stars had gone out, the planets had been destroyed, and even Earth itself didn't exist in the same capacity... But despite it all humanity was still around. It wasn't much of a consolation considering all that was lost, but it was what was necessary in order to keep going.
And keep going things did. Thirteen years have passed since the End, thirteen years measured in time kept on digital watches as the sun and moon could no longer aid in that matter, tough to tell time by something that no longer existed. Thirteen years in which mankind struggled against loss and hysteria, hunger and hatred, depression and very literal demons.
All thanks to the Wild Gods.
The Wild Gods, those myths made material who carried within them the remnants of whatever passed for a deity or deities before the End.
For thirteen years they had held the armies of Hell, or Hades, or the Abyss, or whatever it was called at bay. For thirteen years straight, men and women across the Havens had awoken to find themselves suddenly more than they were when they went to bed.
The change wasn't subtle, generally it took people as they slept and the moment they awoke they would know something was different. Their body would feel lighter, stronger, their movements less strained. Like a weight they hadn't known they were carrying all their lives had been stripped away, that was how most described it. Upon opening their eyes they would see color differently; everything would be more vivid, more pronounced, and to look upon another person or even in the mirror could be a shock considering the sheer level of detail they would find themselves now capable of noticing. The air would smell and taste sharper, little things like flowers or dirty laundry could be overwhelming with their rich or horrid scents at first. But more than that, they would feel as drawn to something outside themselves. Inexplicably linked to something more than their own being in a way mankind was rarely capable of feeling.
It usually took only a few hours after they awoke before the shuttles arrived; each Wild God would inexplicably be noticed by Arven, the god of Humanity, and in his attempts to make sure they had every chance of survival(and his hopes that they would help to defend the common people of the Havens) he would send out shuttle-cars to pick them up, and transfer them to the First Haven. Even if they weren't overeager to join the cause most agreed just for the chance to say they'd met Arven, which was roughly akin to a presidential conference for those older than thirteen who could recall a time when a president was a thing.
The journey took a few minutes, to several hours depending on which Haven the Wild Gods hailed from, but it always ended the same. They would be taken to Temple Row and showed to one of the houses there for the evening, asked politely to stay the night and not wander the city too much, and informed there would be a meeting once the others were gathered.
For those born in the First Haven this was a simple enough task; after all, they had long-since become accustomed to the mad cacophony of the former New York, knew it's sights and sounds and smells and relished the posh housing and free room service provided. Others were more inclined to wander, but considering the fact that security personnel generally politely asked them not to leave the area when they went outside it was a bit of a guilty feeling to just take off.
Each home was a stately affair; plush carpeted floors, walls painted in soothing blue and grey tones, and all the amenities one could ask for. A phone-line dedicated to room-service provided by the Caretakers, a group of Wild God enthusiasts who worked as cooks, cleaners, and all around help for those living on Temple Row.
Some would spend their night in lavish luxury, enjoying their moment of excess. Others would spend it focusing on their newfound strength, and speed, and skill. Yet more would spend it in abject terror, worried about what the morning might bring, dreading meeting someone as important as Arven, or potentially fighting demons, or even just losing the potential for a normal life.
And a handful would spend it attempting to determine their domain. For some this was obvious; they would pass an animal, or an object, or an event and find themselves drawn to it. They would suddenly KNOW; this was what they were all about. This was the source of their power, and the truth of their being. For others it would be a fruitless endeavor, and one that would provide only frustration and insomnia.
It didn't really matter either way; in the morning they would meet Arven. Using his power he would know right away what their Domains were, who they were, what they were capable of, and how they felt about the matter. Such was his Doman; humanity. He knew all there was to know about the people he met, and using that information he was able to lead them.
Regardless of the fact it wouldn't matter Kendall had spent the entire night blearily questing for some hint of his Domain. His head was aching, though it was a much more muted feeling than before he had 'ascended', barely a fraction of the grogginess and pain he'd felt when pulling all-nighters as a mortal. He'd heard before that the Bestowal made people invincible, made it so they didn't feel pain or get weary; but the stories were obviously exaggerated. He'd also heard that usually physical ailments healed when one became a Wild God... which made him wonder just why it was that the low pulsing ache in his splint-bound ring finger was still there, or why the little cuts and scratches all around his body from various accidents were still in place. Maybe he was the god of unluckiness, or accidents... that might explain it.... and utterly suck.
A knock on the door came then, and a voice lightly called out; "Please get ready, we'll all be heading to Grayhall in five minutes." At each of the other homes the same call would be going out as Caretakers attempted to wake, or alert their charges that it was time to get up.
Sighing softly Ken stood and stretched, groaning with the effort of it all. Getting dressed was a simple affair, as he didn't bring too many spare clothes with him; he had showered and thrown on clean boxers the night before, now he added socks, black slacks, and a green long-sleeved shirt to that. A gray button-up went over the long-sleeve, left open two buttons at the chest. Peering at a mirror he tried to get his hair to agree to some semblance of order or at the least flatten out a bit but the haphazard mess refused to be tamed, and glaring at it with his eyes narrowed he issued another sigh before heading to the door.
Stopping with one hand on the know he rested his forehead against the frame, and took a deep breath. This is it. No turning back now. I'm a... I'm a God, and I'm about to meet others like me. The thought was equal parts exciting and terrifying. Turning the handle he began to open the door... and winced as he rammed it right into his own forehead, having forgotten to pull away. "A...ah?" He said lightly rubbing at the spot where normally he'd be in pain. Today, however, there was only a dull sensation of contact. That at least was an improvement. He smiled as he realized he had a bit less to be worried about, and this time taking care to leave room between himself and the door he opened it and stepped out into the world.
Temple Row was your average crowded city street in all manner save one; while most of the houses were the usual nouveau riche affair that had been popular before the End a handful of them had been converted into full-blown temples. Here stood a monolith in front of a columned temple in the greco-roman style, there stood a small church with a symbol of a torch where a cross would have sat in the past, and further down more and more of these places of worship for the Wild Gods had popped up. It was a bit overwhelming to say the least. People congregated outside the temples, waiting for them to open. The other houses were unbothered, likely due to security provided by the caretakers.
Across the street stood Grayhall; a large and imposing three story government building that seemed to gaze back imposingly at any who looked upon it.
To his left and right Kendall could both see and hear doors opening and the newest bunch of Wild Gods stumbling out to in much the same manner as him. Some seemed nervous, others confident, and some utterly blank-faced and unable to process what was going on.
"We've got a few minutes." One of the caretakers said to the group. "Feel free to talk amongst yourselves."
