Dark Crow Rising

Puffing up his chest, the God of Death waves me along after him. I do, though I refuse to stop watching the bucket as we walk away. Oceniater is mimicking my face. It's making me shiver.

"Sooooo... Who is left?" I ask to get the lingering reflection out of my head.

"Waionr, Avanvenger and Oramvaleood." Undwote lists off as my hand bounces on and over the cannons. So seemingly endless in their mirror-matching bronze sculpturing.

"What about the others? I know you said a few more names up top." I point out and he shrugs as he brings the pipe out again. He lights it with a match that appears and then vanishes without a trace other than a lil' bit of lingering smoke.

"Jaadagoren will find you themself, trust me on that. And Aahtha and Motrtha are going to be at the end of the tour so no point in counting them." he explains as some of the smoke from his burning incense wafts into my nose. Oddly, I can smell good food rather than whatever his preferred dried leaf is.

"Okay, where will we find them, then?" I ask as I glance at the various marked rooms we are going by. Workplaces of all kinds, pottery, chemical workings, arts and crafts and even something simply labelled 'Chicken Coop.' Whatever that is.

"Down on the next floor, likely. The last two are often arguing amongst themselves regarding written law and the morality around it. Situations in general. Hopefully, we can stay out of it." he explains as he shivers at the thought of his dual-minded sibling. Siblings?

"And Waionr?"

"His room or one of the empty halls at the bottom of the ship with that lion of his."

"The Beast of Pride?" I ask as I do not know what the animal he just said is. Then again, I didn't know what hounds were either until he used them when the Pack of Seven were about. I find it interesting, as I am so used to calling these creatures by titles rather than their species.

"Yep, that be the one." Undwote chirps.

"So what is going to happen when we see Waionr, seen as I am dead... And all that."

"Don't worry about a thing, I can explain the situation to him later in private. For now, when we see him, I'll have him remove the memories of you from his axe, Cenotaph. As, even though you are a soul with me right now, his weapon can still register it for burial honours of his variety. You are mine to sort out." Undwote ends possessively, making me let out a short, awkward laugh.

As we reach the next flight of stairs, I glance through the open door on my right. Within is a beautiful, soft-faced woman with brown hair the colour of nuts. All in a tail that goes over her left shoulder. She doesn't notice me, but, from a guess at all the cooking stuff in there, this is either Aahtha or Motrtha.

Though, I am inclined to say it is the Goddess of Mothers. She just seems to have this motherly feel about her with the warm smiles and simple, but beautiful clothes. The kind a crying child can hide themselves in. Or, a husband can spin and twirl as he comes home from work.

I head down the stairs just as her head moves, "So, what is this floor mostly for? There are more guns but the smells have changed again and everything seems rather narrow now."

I glance down on my left, towards a small, circular table and the checkered board on it.

"This is the recreational floor. Games, books, relaxing. All that." Undwote answers as he puts his smoking pipe away. Either was done with it or he is respecting the fact we are now in a much cleaner-smelling deck. But, I am struggling to accept that as the way smells are working here is strange...

"What's going on with the smells? Every time we go down a flight of stairs I'm getting this sudden whiplash as everything changes."

"Nosungril, God of Air, Smells and Fumes and other assorted lung chokers," Undwote answers quickly as he takes a few hard sniffs, "he does a lot of work to keep everything localised to its deck or room depending on the smell. You are unlikely to see him while also always seeing him. He likes to hide in plain sight."

"Hello, Nosungril." I greet to an empty spot of air in the event he is nearby.

"On the right track, there." Undwote remarks as he looks around, seemingly aimless with his gaze.

"Well, at least I know why I have only ever seen him in text." I say as I recall my schooling years. We never had any pieces of art with him, only symbols and interpretations. But, having experienced it first-hand and having heard from Sraacdchammu directly about magic... Is it possible that Nosungril is the emerald wind that gave me the ability to use magic? He is magic...?

We are throwing a god's body about when magic is used?

"We have all technically seen him, but we don't see it as him."

"How come?"

"What are you breathing right now?"

"I don't know, I am sort of not breathing right now, I can't even feel my heartbeat." I say, worryingly rubbing at my still chest.

"Well, pretend you are alive, then, what would you be breathing?"

"Air."

"Exactly, my theory is that he literally is the very concept he covers and as such we have all met him since the day we are born into this existence by Father."

I raise a brow at his words, "Don't you mean born into this world by your mother, Motrtha?"

"Motrtha is our sister, remember. After Thunder cried thrice, the Equilibrium made a mother to nurture the tearful storm." Undwote clarifies, quoting what I think was a poem.

"Oh, right."

"Our real mother, or the one closest to that moniker is..." he starts to say before he trails off, uncomfortable is one way to put his expression. Probably best to not push the topic.

It remains quiet until we come across a spot in the wall where the doors stop repeating. Within, the sounds of a passionate but calm discussion. Three voices, two men with one stern and the other soft. Then, one female voice who is going far and above with her engagement in the talk.

She could encourage a revolt with that degree of vocal force.

"And it looks like we will be coming back later." Undwote goes as he hurries along eagerly.

"Wait a minute, I just want to get a look at them." I say as I place a hand on the open, gently swinging door.

"You'll be joining us for dinner, look at them then!" he pretty much begs as he tugs at my overalls.

"I'd rather not make a meal awkward staring at someone." I tell him as I open the door slightly so I can get my peek.

"If they hurt a child, why shouldn't the parents kill them? You cannot expect the parent not to overreact!" the girl exclaims as a hand rises and goes all over.

"Because killing them is overstepping your authority as a parent protecting their child. It is murder, simple as the texts make it." the stern man argues.

"Justice is not defined by the scripture!"

"I see Enorcoustice in here." I whisper back to Undwote as he decides to peak in from down under.

"So it is, I have no idea where the other one is, then. Well, let's go!"

"Hold on!" I tell him as I brush his hand off.

"Except it is. All morals derive from the teachings of a people's code of law. To corrupt your view of it based on personal experience is to admit oneself a criminal. Killing in the defence of something not at risk of being attacked is not justified in any legal sense. Such behaviour is the code of a soldier, not the commoner or the noble."

The pair... Trio? Bickers as they go back on forth, shifting topics at an incredible rate to no effect.

With Enorcoustice dressed in the style of an elaborately wealthy and gilded judge. He towers over the others with his strong shoulders and solid posture. Once again, he is not in a child form either. I look back at the little white-haired kid as it scowls at me.

Returning my eyes to the view within, I look at the ones who could only be Oramvaleood. A strange-looking god and goddess evenly split between two sets of skin tones. Yellow-orange for the woman, dark blue for the man with a split, open chest, making them look like a weird 'x' if I start looking up from their legs. Swirling, equally-matched energy of the same colours fills the gap between them.

Only the female side has bandages pressing down on a chest lump which I can only guess to be a certain... Womanly part. A divine monoboob. I look away as the strangely-shaped god and goddess gets to me.

"Taken in the sights now?" Undwote asks impatiently as he taps a boot rapidly, creating a tense, aggressive rhythm.

"Maybe a shirt for Oramvaleood." I go as I close the door.

"They do when they are actually in their child form like they are meant to be."

"You are the only one who's looked like a child so far." I point out.

"Shut up... Ihtuntar looks like one too." the God of Death mutters under his chilly breath as we keep on walking.