“Is it good?” Some people don’t like frozen cookie dough, but she absolutely adores it.
“It is pretty good actually. “Frozen cookie dough is delightful especially with a little icing involved. Saima happily enjoys the rest of their cookie.
The tone of the other made his brow furrow in slight irritation. It sounded uncomfortably like himself from time to time, hearing it in others wasn’t as amusing. Still, he had become unsettled in the first place by something else, not their attitude.
His hand dropped from the sword to instead cross his arms across his chest, wings lightly beating once behind him. Made aware of his own body language, he cursed himself; a defensive priest? Dammit. Loosening his arms again, he was growing more and more frustrated by the minute.
“Don’t say that,” he finally got the words out. “I help anyone I can, it’s what I do,” he added with a thin, strained smile. Sure he did. Sometimes helping meant being an assassin. Funny how that worked. He wasn’t interested in indulging too much information about himself though, it felt too… dangerous.
“You live around here?”
Watching the other change body language, Saima picks up on the discomfort that is felt. They can’t help but find this whole encounter morbidly entertaining, fascinating even. Although chances if they mention that, it would set off the man even more. What a pity. Some of these types were always too self-serious, not surprising but boring nonetheless.
They idly rock on their heels for a moment before glancing back at him. “Hm. Well, it’s still nice of you to offer. Nothing wrong with being helpful when you can.” They were a believer in that as well – and chances are would be assisting the same people that had been recently ‘converted’.
When asked about their origins, they give a bit of a shrug. “I tend to be in the area regularly. I stay on the move but… I come here from time to time. Mostly ‘live’ in the forests.”
Some days the only thing that kept Atlas going was his own belief in himself. He would visit the museums and look at the status of himself just to make sure that he was still alive after all. Just to remind himself that at one point someone had believed in him.
That particular day was no different, this time it was a little less crowded and Atlas found himself in front of series of status. He chuckled shaking his head and turning to Saima. “Can you believe they once used to build palaces for us, now all we have left is half a statue that isn’t even correct.”
Surviving in this new world was always a strange situation. For someone who had been used to some kind of status, carving a new means of existence and presence had been an adventure. Often a winding and always uncertain kind of deal, but it was a journey nonetheless.
Perhaps that’s why they liked hanging out in museums, in a way of reminding themselves of how much has changed. Or at least getting back in touch with the memories they held on to still. Glancing back at Atlas, they gave a little sigh tinged with laughter.
“It’s wild how so much can be lost over the years. Sometimes, it’s a wonder that there are even little statues left. The whole deal feels absurd, even.“
Léa slowly nodded. “Well, not just mine,” she then corrected, glancing around at the other gravestones. “But in the simplest sense, yes, I suppose.” Still unsure of who she was dealing with, she said nothing more specific. She stepped closer, dress hem whispering against the knots of moss in the grass.
“Have you come here before? Perhaps you come often, and we’ve just never met? If so, I hope I didn’t disturb you. It can be wonderfully peaceful at times…”
Too curious for her own good, she couldn’t help continuing to assess them. They certainly weren’t human, but they didn’t feeling like a threatening presence. So she smiled. “I’m
Léa.”
“Ah I see.“ It was clearly a place where a few had been laid to rest. This was the first time Saima had seen one of the previous inhabitants in this area. They were curious about the approaching figure and maintained a calm air, if only to appear sociable. If nothing else, staying at ease may help in this interaction.
“I’ve stopped by here a few times before. It seems like I just hadn’t run into you before.“ Saima returns a small smile of their own. “Nice to meet you Lea, I go by Saima. And you didn’t disturb me at all, I just didn’t want to be intruding on your space and had been willing to go it you wanted me to.“
“i absolutely adore seeing all the children on this holiday. they’all so happy and all the costumes are just the cutest. it’s only a plus that there’s candy. if you’re wondering what the best kinds, it’s the red and pink starburst.”
“It is kind of interesting to see how people get involved in the festivities around this time of year.” Although more inclined to later holidays in November, it was still entertaining to see people enjoy Halloween elsewhere. “Good to know. I’ve heard the same – so I guess it’s a consistent favorite.”
“Do you like decorating cookies? I’m honestly not really into this stuff but I do really like eating so…” She shrugs, and then shoves the cookie with an excessive amount of frosting into her mouth.
“Yeah, I kind of like the process of making something cute before eating it. I don’t always do it but it’s a nice treat.” Once their decoration is done, they check it out before taking a bite.
Atlas looked up the closer the person got, a lazy grin taking over his face. He leaned back on his elbows but not before gesturing to the free space next to him. “Feel free, can’t guarantee that I’ll be the best company,” he shrugged pausing for several long moments. Atlas wasn’t familiar with everyone at the party, in fact, he only really knew one person. But then he was also terrible with remembering faces and names. “Sorry what was your name again, I’ve sort of forgotten.”
“Ah, no worries. It just seems nice enough to sit out here.“ Saima, after all, didn’t have too many particular expectations. They were just content enough that their presence didn’t seem to be too troublesome. Sitting down next to Atlas, they glanced back at him for a moment.“It’s fine. I’m Saima. I know there was a lot of folks to keep track of – I’ve had a bit of time remembering who I’ve met tonight too.“
“Uh…yeah!” Eve giggles as she hands over a plain cookie to her friend. “I got lots frosting to decorate so you can use whatever you want.”
“Thanks. Nothing like having a lot of options to play with.” With receiving the plan cookie, Saima immediately checks out the different icings – choosing a couple to use in order to make a little pattern on the cookie.
His gaze lifts. “It is the only story anyone ever cares to know,” he says, coldly. “You should know the feeling. Mortals make up stories all the time, some of them true and untrue. It is the burden, as the Muses say, living past the end of your myth.” Achilles studies them a moment. “How do you deal with it?”
Saima gives a soft sigh in response. Achilles certainly has a point. There’s a point where being around long enough allows people to say any which thing about, no matter of its relevance. “Alas, I do know the feeling, all too well.” They close their eyes for a moment to consider it.
“I’m not entirely certain that I do. I find ways to be of service despite being beyond my original timeline. I try to provoke new ways of seeing things. But I don’t know – maybe I’m mostly doing things in spite of what people say these days.“
Nothing could be more convincing of a god’s existence than the physical proof that Blake carried on his back. It was his main… memo for how to get people in another world to start following Odin; that he was a close Follower to the god and thus had been rewarded (or cursed, but he never mentioned that). When it came to doing Odin’s work for him, Blake would easily lie where it was convenient… and so far Odin hadn’t complained.
It was enough to just get a few people to wholeheartedly believe in him and Odin would then be able to visibly see and grasp at that world; thus also making it easier for him to aid, or punish the people.
It was nice to wander around in a village that Blake had managed to convert, because he didn’t have to hide away his wings. People would walk up to him and ask for details or blessing; honestly, he lived the perks of being a priest without the cons. Such as murder.
One person made him feel uneasy though; so much that the tension showed in his wings. He couldn’t get them or his shoulders to relax; his hand had ended up resting on the hilt of his sword, as he fixed his gaze on the intruding person. It was the same feeling he got whenever he was around Odin, or really, anyone related in some form to a god.
It was a dangerous feeling and whether it was true or not, he didn’t want to experience it in this newly converted village. Better get right on with it.
“Can I help you?” he asked the stranger, more tersely than he had intended but he hated feeling unnerved.
There was something interesting about witnessing a village get converted. Especially when Saima knew full well that despite this change of pace, there would always been a place for them. It might not be this place in particular but there were always spots. Nonetheless, they were intrigued at the process of seeing those try to convince others of the ‘true God’. It was almost like a weekly show at this point. Who’s causing the conversions.
Rumor is the god of choice lately had been Odin due to seeing someone walking around with wings. Now that was certainly a way to get people’s attention. Saima wouldn’t complain, they just liked observing the process.
Despite preferring to keep a relatively quiet profile, it was obvious to the deity that this winged individual was a little on edge. Was it me? They idly think, knowing full well that was the likely cause. It was enough to cause a mischievous smile, one full of mysteries and secrets.
When addressed, Saima gave a small shrug. “I wasn’t really trying to bother you really. Just watching you go about your work. It’s interesting – I have to admit. Can’t imagine that you’d have anything to help me with.” Their tone is casual, matter-of-fact with an awareness of the unease that they seemed to have inadvertently caused.
Seekesotsibteadmist 