"AQUARIAN?" boomed Farina.
Artio was, perhaps, more delicate in addressing that particular suggestion. "As admirable a concept as it would be, to invite his judgment, her old... pet would undoubtedly only take that opportunity to wail and preen. Still-... I will consult him. In time." Glittering eyes shifted to the others who gave suggestions. "Such things are not possible, not by our hands," was her murmur, given to Maximus, though she seemed thoughtful nonetheless. "Though I would have thought this," and a hand gestured toward the shattered trunk of the Divine, "not possible by hers."
Imp's anger--followed by Fahl's incredible vitriol--had Farina laughing cruelly and a faint smile ticking at the corners of Artio's mouth. "My, my. It seems you haven't been making all that many friends, Nemean." She gestured with her hand, and the thorned vines that tangled round the struggling fairy tightened, twisted. Nemean shrieked. "Oh, come now; none of that. We're only getting started, after all. ...Boiling, was it..?" With this sinister declaration, Artio turned, and swept away--and the plants carrying Nemean went with her, rumbling along the ground, passing her from root to vine.
"WHAT?" Nemean howled. "You can't DO this! It's not funny at all-! I have--stuff to do-! I'm-" Whatever she "was" was lost to the mists, the plants hauling her into the distance.
Farina turned, claws clicking. "YOU. COME WITH ME." The claw was pointed at Imp, and then she turned, scuttling after Artio, once again barging plants and even smaller trees down wherever they stood in her path.
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The Divine remained behind, and at the last touch to the other, bark-clad tree, she swept to stand beside it. She caressed its bark, murmuring.
"Only one of you-... why could there not be more? But-... if it works..." Her voice was cracked, aged with disuse; yet emotion was clear in every syllable.
The bark of the final tree cracked, and what stepped forth was one of the dryads some of the Gembounds had seen in their visions: another creature of branch and leaf, yet womanly. She stumbled down as the bark gave way, and the Divine caught her as she fell, and embraced her.
The light seemed to grow brighter around them.
At last, she looked around, holding the dazed dryad.
"...The others-... It is--it was always too late for them. For us. This could only be-..." She turned, eyes falling upon the orb.
"...Hers." She reached out a gentle hand, and leaves curled forward in ripples, lifting the pink orb, drawing it to her, holding it aloft.
"I must safeguard this, but-... Thank you," she said, looking to them all. Despite her gratitude, she seemed distant, grief-stricken; and without another word, the Divine turned to go, supporting her dryad handmaiden at her side.