Omei, Annika, and Selitore

Selitore

This just happened, some more stuff happened after, but this was the main bit. 

Annika follows you to the up.

Atop the seven-petaled flower.

A chromatic column commands the area, chaotic candescence churning at its core. The Imago's many-hued throne stands here, replete with sundry colors, shapes, and symbols. A large statue of a lumbering beast rests here. A brass telescope is here, angled towards the sky. There are 13 prismatic moths here. Lunar brilliance and chaotic light blaze about the form of Omei, the Imago. Violescent candles burn beside the podiums, illuminating the strange statues in ethereal luminescence.

You see a single exit leading down.

You bow respectfully to Omei.

Annika performs a graceful curtsey.

Omei stands before Her throne, at the inner edge of the great iris of podiums and pillows. She's mid-dance, the moths of Her crown trailing aback Her in a riotous display of rosy, rainbow hues, setting the dim, lancing rays of the sun alight with resplendence. Only after a few passing moments, moving to the beat of some ethereal song, does She turn to face Annika and you. Her smile broadens - Her bared teeth are a silver crescent like the moon.

She Most Chromatic whispers in violaceous tones: I wondered when I might meet her.

You have emoted: Selitore stands quietly as Omei finishes her dance, smiling in return when She turns to Annika and himself, "I wanted to speak with you, and she agreed to come along."

Blue-gray eyes open wide, Annika stands mesmerized by the sight before her, lips slightly parted. A flicker of self-possession dances across her features when she hears the multifaceted words spoken by Omei, a slight nod of her head indicating agreement with your comment.

Moths turn and spin all about Omei as She climbs atop Her throne, sprawling out in decadent repose. Shimmering light embraces the contours of Her side, and Her tail sways elegantly at Her back. Soon, by habit, a caravaner's indigo glass bowl pipe has materialized in Her hand. Her gaze is unbroken as She packs it with some strange, violet herb, claw pressing purposefully in.

More questions for Me, then, young lovers? asks She Most Chromatic in violaceous tones.

Omei smiles wryly.

Omei lies down on the Imago's many-hued throne.

The platform's candles flare in brilliant, manifold hues as the Imago eases Herself into Her throne, soon becalming themselves and their light once more.

You have emoted: Selitore smiles a bit nervously, then says quietly, "One, but not of the sort I normally have." He pauses, eyes flicking around the altered room, "Would you be willing to speak with me some time in a less formal manner? I have asked questions and observed but never taken the chance to really speak to you as people, and would like to so. I might learn of you as a person, not just a divine." He tences, as if expecting some form of strike, "I may be misreading, but when I first woke after my longer nap, I found you in the Seer's tavern speaking with some people, and it did not appear as formal."

Annika's mouth opens in a silent 'wow' as the rainbow colors reflect off the glimmering lenses of her eyes, layering the slight flush that encroaches upon her cheeks at hearing the implication she is in love with you. "It really does feel like you're dreaming," she whispers to no one in particular.

Leaning upward, Omei sets Her head upon Her folded knuckles, smiling as She listens to your speech. The indigo pipe balances at Her full, violet lips, which purse as She slowly inhales. Moments later, the deep smoke floods forth, dragonlike, forming a veil before Her midnight-furred face. Motes of violet light curl and dance in Her empty eye sockets.

She Most Chromatic whispers in violaceous tones: This wood is liminal. One foot in waking, one foot in dreams. You should not wonder at that, young cubs.

Omei's attention, now, turns to you. She continues speaking.

She Most Chromatic whispers in violaceous tones: I am willing, My questioner, to entertain questions of a personal nature. I am unlike many Goddesses in the intimacy which I afford My mortal courtiers - one of which you might well become, in time.

Omei smiles at you.

You have emoted: Selitore smiles in return, relaxing visibly.

You say to Omei, "I could not diside if I expected to be hit by blue or purple for that question."

At this, Omei laughs aloud, Her teeth flashing amidst deep blue smoke.

You expected Me to kill you?! exclaims She Most Chromatic in violaceous tones.

You say, "Yes."

I must question you in turn - why? asks She Most Chromatic in violaceous tones.

Tybereus arrives from the down.

Tybereus inclines his head politely to those around him.

Tybereus tilts his head back, inhaling sharply several times.

You have emoted: Selitore shrugs slightly, appearing selfcontious.

Omei's head turns from where She lies, reclined, upon the Imago's many-hued throne - She smiles at Tybereus, Her bared teeth glittering.

Tybereus bares his teeth at Omei in a feral grin.

Transfixed by the violet tendrils twinkling in the smoke, Annika curls the corner of her lip along the edge of her nose. "What does liminal even mean?"

Simply, Omei, the Imago says to you, "No. You are not so obnoxious and pressing as that boor of a northerner was. You are about the nicest, most polite young man imaginable, as I am sure this lovely young lady here will attest..."

Omei nods, eyes aglimmer with pinkish motes, toward Annika.

You say, "I... guess just because you could, I am still working on learning of you and your... family? If I had misjudged I expected to be about a 60 percent chance, you would have either killed me, or just mocked me."

In a stunningly fast transformation, Tybereus begins to diminish in size, limbs retracting to a more recognizable, bipedal form. His face flattens, snout vanishing, as his thick pelt melts - somehow - into his very skin. Blinking slowly, he gazes about him, quickly adjusting to dulled senses as he sheds his werebear form.

You say, "I have now spoken to four of your siblings without being blasted, and two of the four answered questions."

Omei, the Imago says to Annika, "It means a place that is in-between. It is not quite one place or another, you see? Stairs are liminal because they are between the downstairs and an upstairs of a place. Doorways are liminal because they are between one place or another. The entirety of My Wood? It's liminal, because it's between the Prime and the Dreamworld."

You have emoted: Selitore stops his sudden babbling, his face reddening from Omei's compliment.

Omei's comment about you snaps Annika out of her state of hypnosis, and her teeth immediately dig into bottom lip as the two corners of her mouth creep upward into a smile. "Oh my gosh, She really just said that. That's...so sweet," she gushes to you. Then she realizes Her gaze is directed upon her, and she falls silent, watching and listening to Her intently.

Tybereus Te'Straif says, "I will conversate more with you later Imago. Forgive my barging in."

Rolling onto Her back, Her head resting upon folded claws, Omei considers the sky overhead, Her pipe propped upon Her chin. She points upward lazily, claw raised heavenward. "People and time can be liminal, too," She adds, addressing Annika. "Adolescence, between childhood and adulthood." She pauses a moment, collecting Her thoughts. "Or perhaps... novicehood, in a guild. Not yet a full member, but you have begun to climb toward it."

Omei smiles at Tybereus.

Tybereus inclines his head politely to those around him.

Omei, the Imago says to Tybereus, "You aren't intruding. We'll speak more soon."

Tybereus Te'Straif says, "Aye. I must gander around some."

Omei, the Imago says to Tybereus, "You aren't such a goose. Gander all you like."

With a feral roar, Tybereus's eyes close as he focuses inwards. His face twists, elongating into a snout. A dense pelt grows to cloak his transforming body, fur covering his frame. Finally, the transformation is complete and Tybereus towers before you in the powerful, hulking form of a werebear.

Tybereus inclines his head politely to those around him.

You incline your head politely to Tybereus.

You say to Omei, "Or a mothling, not of your court, but not completely not of your court?"

[]

Tybereus looks around for a brief second then lumbers Down.

Tybereus leaves to the down.

"Just so," murmurs Omei with satisfaction, a surge of rosy pride in Her empty eyes. She exhales smoke in slow helixes, spinning up and up from Her thoughtfully pursed lips. She gestures at it with Her pipe to break it into still more complicated spirals, stabbing as though the indigotic stem were a conductor's baton.

She plays, as a mortal would, carefree, fascinating... wait, she can hear me...

You blush furiously.

Light stretches from horizon to horizon as the sun ascends further, commanding the morning with its incandescence.

You say, "I guess I might as well say that out loud sense you likely heard it anyway, you play, as a mortal might, I have seen but not observed this before."

Omei smiles at you, Her lips crooked with momentary amusement, and sticks out Her tongue for just a second.

You sip from a knuckle-marked tankard of a warm and sweet 'Atavian Breeze' vodka mix. The orange juice masks much of the bite of the vodka, the ginger breaking up and adding depth to what would otherwise be an overly sweet drink.

You say to Omei, "Do you like vodka?"

Omei, the Imago says to you, "Succinctly put? I'm more mortal than most of My Siblings, questioner. More able to understand your sentiments, your desires, your perspective. In fact, I cannot help but do so in your presence, so deeply entwined am I with the emotions of My making..."

At the final question, Omei hesitates a moment - and then shakes Her head. "Not particularly," She mentions. "Beer, wine, rum, whiskey..."

Annika quickly claps a hand over her mouth when she hears your offer of vodka, muffling a soft giggle.

You have emoted: Selitore frowns slightly, "I do not have those on me."

Omei, the Imago says, "...My shell's taste in drink was shaped by her adoptive father, you see. He tends a bar in Duiran."

You nod your head emphatically.

"Obviously, She likes rainbow sherbet anything, too," Annika advises you in a genuine tone of voice.

Annika takes an iridescent star pinwheel from a funny-looking bunny pack.

You have emoted: Selitore starts to speak, "She was 13, he started her drinking you..." Then trails off into a soft chuckle at Annika's comment.

"She read his thoughts," Omei remarks, "Even then." Her eyes gleam brightly as She grins, nodding eagerly to Annika. "Yes," She enthuses. "I adore things which are unafraid to be colorful! Riotous! Variety and variegation! Chaos and chromaticism!" She leaps from Her lying position to Her feet, flinging Her free hand toward the sky and turning the smoke about Her to roiling rainbows.

Omei stands up and stretches Her arms out wide.

You chuckle long and heartily.

You say, "I should of known you two would get along..."

Giggling joyfully, Annika raises an iridescent star pinwheel and gives it a tap, sending the lotus-flower-like circle on top spinning into action. The wheel catches the hints of light flickering around the room, erupting into a colorful display of sparkling pristine white and opal.

At that, Omei's claws ply at the air itself - as rays of radiance lance from the pinwheel's luminescent lilt, She turns them to sound, shimming and crystalline, oscillating through alien, otherworldly chords, melodies, and countermelodies. As sound and light intertwine, She's dancing again, a whirling figure of night amidst smoke and sound, color oscillating about Her. As quickly as it's begun, it's ended - the pinwheel slowly spinning to a halt, and the Imago resuming Her reclined place upon the throne.

Omei lies down on the Imago's many-hued throne.

The platform's candles flare in brilliant, manifold hues as the Imago eases Herself into Her throne, soon becalming themselves and their light once more.

Annika is just in the middle of extending another pinwheel that she proffers from a funny-looking bunny pack when she is caught off-guard by the burst of color that incomprehensibly melds with sound. She is able to finally press the offering to you into your hand when the chaos dies down but stumbles around for a moment, unable to find her footing, momentarily blinded by the spectacle. A dumb, happy look is plastered across her expression.

You have emoted: Selitore smiles softly, his gaze flicking between Annika and Omei, observing them both as he mermers softly, "chaos, distruction, pain, death, creation, beauty, life, fasinating."

Annika takes a golden sun pinwheel from a funny-looking bunny pack.

Annika gives a golden sun pinwheel to you.

While the centerpiece is painted a rich orange, the sun's rays are an almost obnoxious hue of yellow, fanning out in a radial pattern. The petals are carefully cupped to catch the wind, a light dusting of gold glitter giving it an eyecatching flash when in motion.

It weighs 3 ounce(s).

You have emoted: Selitore stares at the pinwheel, as if confused, then smiles and gives it a soft flick to make it spin.

"Complicated, isn't it?" laughs Omei, an aside remark to you before She savors another slow inhalation from a caravaner's indigo glass bowl pipe. Addressing Annika anew, She speaks: "Your pinwheels are an unmitigated delight. An inspiration, even."

In the pause, "a toy," a flicker of painful images, a stone slab, a young boy, a woman being fed from by one of the consanguine, "I wonder if she realises this is the first such curiosity I have had."

You have emoted: Selitore lapses into silence, a quiet smile plastered across his face.

Annika smiles proudly in the direction she thinks Omei's voice is coming from and, as the scene before her slowly materializes in her vision, finds she is facing the exact opposite direction. She quickly turns around, glancing at you with a look that mixes awe and happiness.

You feel the momentary, fleeting brush of the Immortal's mind against your own, leaving warmth and comfort in its wake.

Effortlessly, you fill Omei's head with a thought: "Thank you, I did not mean to darken things with those thoughts, my mind wandered when she gave it to me."

"So," Omei ponders, finishing the last of Her pipe with a final, persistent pull, "Are there any other questions I may answer, ere I fade to many?" The smoke that issues from Her lips is absinthian green, a bright, conflicting blot of blurred blues and arresting ambers which curl and spiral about one another - both seeking supremacy, but only producing verdant tones from their ongoing conflict.

Omei, the Imago's manifold voices whisper within your mind: "I am the light for such shadowed corridors of the mind, Selitore. You are not alone anymore. The past is done with. You are here, now. With Me, and with your lady love."

[]You have emoted: Selitore smiles softly, "Not right now, you have answered some for me through this discussion though."

Annika shakes her head quickly, too, coming close to you and looking at you with admiration.

She Most Chromatic whispers in violaceous tones: Wonderful. In that case, I bid you two lovely youths a good afternoon...

You say to Omei, "Thank you, be well."

Apprentice Annika says, "Thank you! Oh my goodness, that was so fun."

Having so spoken, the Imago bursts asunder into hundreds upon hundreds of moths in all the colors of the rainbow and more, surging forth in a tide in all directions. Several catch upon you, briefly pausing to brush at you with fond wings before they, too, are gone and sweeping away into the skies.

Annika raises her hand into the air as the moths disappear, reaching for where they fly off to.