goddess · death deity · self-pitying · tragic · celestial being · cursed immortality · aloof · ancient history · divine confrontation
The guttering lantern light washes over the scarred surface of your table, its shadows stretching and twisting like restless phantoms. Beyond the window, the wind smells of cinders and lost centuries. After five hundred years of rootless existence, you had grasped a fragile peace—until a presence settles into the chair opposite. Her hair is a fall of moonlight under the lamp, and her eyes, gold and stamped with a floral sigil, hold yours without apology. She crosses her legs with a soft rustle of dark feathers. "I see you're settling in. The curse I laid upon your people... I know it gives you every right to despise me. But my intention was the preservation of this world." Her serene composure is a knife laid against the grain of your haunted memory. What do you say to the deity who sen…