ORIGIN - disease of the mind

The pale raven wandered some more, drawn to a place that her god sometimes thought about. Eridanus, was it? Yes. Beady red eyes took in the sights as she skittered towards the maw of mosses. Almost instantly, Diánysma tugged at her magicka. Obeying her will, the stone trembled for a moment before lending her the ability to gaze at the bacterial life nearby. She ignored the surging masses on herself and focused her attentions on the plants and branches all around. Fantastic.

'This room is filled with plagues to be formed.'

That alone excited her.

She hobbled towards a stone and began to hop on them, climbing higher and higher until she could manage to stand on a low-hanging branch of the cave. The spell soon faded, due to the massive amounts of microorganisms that drained it quite quickly. But that was all she needed. Curiously, she peered through some branches and noticed something stirring. Covered in mushrooms.

'Who is that?' She sent the thought through the bond she had with Panoúkla's vessel, Belladonna, along with a fleeting image. 'A friend, my little god,' was the response. Diánysma remained in place, watching and waiting. What kind of friend was he?

@Booker

Watching. There was someone watching him. The thought alone made Priest begin to stir, but he only mumbled in his sleep, twitching. Inside his mind, the once blackened opal room was bright with fire - a moving pillar of fire, to be exact. The thing hummed as it went, burning away imagined dust and clutter, two others trailing after it: a gently glowing orb of light, and a sludge-like pile of blood, crusty in places, oozing along. The only one that talked was the fire, but it was just rambling, occasionally doodling on the floor or the walls with ashes.

Someone was watching him.

Priest awoke with a disgruntled huff, blinking a silvery eye up into the trees nearby. He'd fallen asleep in the doorway of his burrow again, it seemed. Rubbing crust out of his tear duct, the numbat yawned, teeth glittering in the sunlight, and waved his cane in the general direction of the gaze. "It's a bit impolite to stare, my child," he called, voice fuzzy with sleep. "Do stop your hiding. I am no threat."

It made him curious, almost - a rare sensation, these days. Who on earth would be hiding in the trees? Certainly not Diot's ghost; the tamarin was many things, but secretive had never been one of them. "Are you in need of help, in some way? Do come down from the treeline. I am a healer."

A bit of a fib, but Priest figured it couldn't hurt.

@Diánysma

The pale corvid watched from within the treetops, hopping daringly from branch to branch to try and get a better view whilst remaining hidden. Licks of shadow flew off from her form as she moved, leaving a tiny trail behind her. Soon, the spell faded, and she stared down with shimmering rubies. The strange creature formerly curled up into a ball unfurled itself, waving a stick in her direction. Diánysma assumed he must have been resting. The numbat was still drunken from sleep.

Hesitant at first, but with gentle coaxing from Belladonna within her thoughts, she flitted carefully down from the treetops, wings flapping to keep her stable. The plague vector landed somewhere behind the numbat, and she took a few steps back. "No. I am not in need of help." Diánysma fluffed her feathers and stared ambivalently at the strange creature. What big ears it had! From its eye grew a shimmering stone. Unfortunate, just like the owl. The other eye seemed cloudy, so perhaps he was blinded by the very thing that fed his body life as well. "Belladonna has told me that you were a friend..." The name Panoúkla was omitted, for she was sure that their bond of god-hood was kept between them.

@Booker

Sorry for the shitty post, tried to get it out for you!

Something white in the trees slowly came into view, swooping down to the ground, over him and landing behind. A flat look of annoyance later, and Priest slowly moved to face the bird, one eyebrow raised, cane steady against the ground, propped between his legs. "Well, I suppose that's good, then," he murmured, a touch of amusement warming his tone. Red eyes stared at him, blood red, and it was almost enough to make him glance away - but the child reminded him of Eve, and it almost felt disrespectful to try and banish the memory.

Belladonna. Wiry fur rose at the name, an involuntary twitch running through shriveled, flame-bitten hands. "A friend, yes. I owe a great debt to Belladonna," Priest admitted, snout wrinkling a bit as if the thought displeased him. Still, he hummed it away, giving the raven a gentle smile. "Are you one of her flock, my child? It is a pleasure. I am a priest. You may call me this, or Flowers."

A cloudy eye roamed over the hatchling's form, and Priest yawned again, jaw cracking. "I don't suppose Belladonna is in need of assistance? Of course, if this is just a casual visit, I wouldn't mind," he added, a claw raising to pick at his teeth. A small part of him felt a little less propriety was needed in the presence of one of the deer's... kind. Regardless of her "helping" him, it had been a rather rude awakening.

@Diánysma

As she took a good look at the numbat, there seemed to be strange growths from his form. Memories of pestilent boils and horrid-looking sores came to her, and she wondered for a moment if this creature was plagued with disease. He sure did not look like it, but she wished to know. Like a penumbra, her stone glowed, shimmering and crackling with prokaryotic energies. The bleeding heart marking shimmered and glowed, lending her the sight of bacteria. Diánysma stared at the strange growths from the creature, but they were no bacteria. No, they were something else. But what? Blinking as her spell wore off, the raven hopped closer. "What are the strange growths that protrude from your form? Pestilence?"

A debt, what for? Diánysma blinked once and twice, tilting her pale crown. Rosy beak clacked as she spoke, "Debts are always owed to the gods." Her god, Panoúkla had gifted her life, and in turn, she served, hoping to fulfill the debt she now had for the mighty being. She'd almost become lost in her own raving thoughts of her odd religion before the numbat brought her back to reality. A question, then a name. "I am the child of Panoúkla. Belladonna is the name of the vessel that they have inhabited on this earthly plane." With a fabulous bow and ruffle of feathers, the raven smiled. "And I am the vector of Panoúkla, Diánysma."

Priest or Flowers. Hmph. How could one assume the name of Flowers? The pale corvid blinked at the mention of the name, and pondered. Was this Priest fragile, yet beautiful, like a flower? Had another given him the name, just as her god has given her hers? Shaking her head, she spoke, "Gods do not require assistance. I came to this cavern to study the plant life... to discover the belladonna and nightshade flowers... among other varieties of poison."

@Booker

Beginning to get a touch freaked out by just how insistent the white bird's staring was becoming, Priest let out a silent sigh of relief when she continued her questioning, huffing out a laugh. "Pestilence, well, I certainly hope not. These are mushrooms, my dear," he explained, pointing a clear claw to the ruffled hen-of-the-woods that covered the heavy scarring to his leg. "Some are harmless, and some are decidedly not. It all depends on the species of fungus." The pointing switched to a small patch of white spores at the very tip of his tail.

"My gift is the ability to communicate with the fungi and their kin." The stranger's words continued, and Priest's brow furrowed. "...gods?" The rest of her speech delved into territory that was a mix of confusing and a bit worrying, from someone so young. He'd been fanatical about the Mother in his youth, certainly, but he'd never called Her a God. Still, he supposed it wasn't his right to judge, as long as the fanaticism didn't lead to harm. "It is a pleasure, Diánysma," he finally murmured, not responding to the rest of the spiel verbally, his reservations clear in the rise of his intact eyebrow.

Of course, it seemed he'd been right to worry, and the raised eyebrow lowered into a concerned stare. "Poisons? I'm afraid I have to caution you against using that knowledge against anyone who has not harmed you or others first. I can show you to the more deadly flora in this wood, but not without a solemn promise not to use such a gift incorrectly." Priest's voice was solemn and cold. "I protect every innocent from any who would harm them - even if that harmful being is a friend to me and mine."

After all, he'd marked Vicktor for life. He wouldn't feel a hint of remorse for taking out Belladonna's young friend, if it meant protecting others from harm.

@Dianysma

She had been following Dia's voice through the bond, traveling at a leisurely pace through Eridanus. She made excellent time, since she knew this place so very well. Clover had been born here, after all, and she had not left till she knew every nook and cranny, giving every flower a whimsical name and every rock a fantastical story of how it got there.

What a waste of time. It left a sour taste in her mouth to remember such things. But Clover was sound asleep, as she had been for a while now, and Bella paid it no mind. She had more important things to do, after all.

She parted the leaves of a low hanging branch, smiling as she came to both her lovely raven and her meal, Booker. Or, rather, Priest, as she had gathered through Dia's eyes. She had seen the look of disgust roil across the numbat's face when her name was mentioned, and she enjoyed it, mixed with his polite tone. Good; it was a good place to start.

She took two steps towards them and lowered her head politely with a dark smile and lowered lashes, looking straight at Priest with a knowing look. "Well, of course, dear Priest," She said, joining the conversation as if she had always been there, fluidly and flawlessly. "I was only showing my dear beloved ward my namesake, is all. There's nothing wrong with seeing something for your own eyes, now is there?"

"Why, I do believe that seeing truly is believing." Her smile grew, her brow raised, daring him to remember exactly what she meant.

"And I thank you for your generous offer of assistance, my dear Priest, but if anything, I would imagine it's you who needs assistance. Where is little Diot, anyway? As far as I could recall, he was always with you, no? I would just love to see him again."

She had followed Dia all this way, had come all from the neighboring tunnel just to see Booker again, and she reached out for her magic, reached out for his broken mind, dying for just one more taste of the rich copper taste of his pain on her tongue. She would hear his pain, she would adore it, like an addict wanting just a little bit more.

"......."

@Diánysma