Dark Crow Rising

"Now, now, Aahtha, leave the poor boy alone." Motrtha orders the mind-numbingly erotic goddess currently breaking me down. As if I am free of being drowned, I take in as much air as I can through hysteric breaths as my mind clears up. With my body settling down, I stumble about drunkenly and redress my dead body. My eyes turn Aahtha's way as she is forced out of the room with the final laugh escaping her wet lips as her body lingers so clearly in my head.

Even though it is just the body of my old, long-since Undwote-visited superior...

Motrtha sighs my way as she comes over to put me down on a stall she has immediately pulled out. The scrape of the wood's leg ends lingers in my remembering ears and I watch the far more modest beauty. She starts to go through the cupboards and draws with growing, quiet annoyance. One cupboard reveals a white box that she hastily glances over before she snaps back to it.

The box with a plain, mildly faded green cross on an upright angle slides onto the island. Motrtha comes back around to me and she brings the box closer, clicking it open before pulling out the familiar item. One of her soft hands takes my freshly scarred one and pries it open, revealing the recent wound to my very being. It starts to vanish, hidden away under an increasingly thick composition of stretched-out fabric.

"You don't need to do this, you know..." I let out nervously as I adjust my seating.

"Nonsense! You have a nasty cut so the least I can do is keep it safe so it can heal."

"I don't think it will matter if it heals or not..."

"And why is that, hmm? An injury left to fester helps no one."

"Well, I am already dead, I am not alive. Has Undwote not told you this?" I say as I look over towards the lingering God of Death as he idly sits on the stairs up to whatever rests above. The small boy ignores us before he vanishes up his former place of lounging.

"I know what you are and I do not care one bit. I will not leave you on the wayside because of it. Now, you listen here, if you ever need anything, anything at all, Dear... Just come and find me!" she tells me, slowing down as she ties the final knot on my new accessory. I am suddenly enveloped in a gentle hug, though the recent run-in with the Goddess of Pleasure makes it hard to ignore what my head is against. So soft, so large...

A beat comes through.

I frown as the relaxing song lingers in my head. Thud, thud, thud, thud, thud, thud. A calm, simple rhythm that never changes in the slightest. There is only warmth to be found here.

"Can... Can I get out, please?" I ask with a sigh as I suddenly try to shake and pull out of her grip. Although, to no avail. A cheek-pincher latches on and pulls as my eyes manage to catch a glimpse of hers. She smiles unceasingly until one comes to me with her hand rubbing my head as it grows brighter.

"Do you have any preferences meal-wise? I am more than happy to put up with another fussy eater." she asks and remarks joyously as she, unfortunately, leaves me be so she can get back to her duties. Whatever she is doing, it confuses me slightly as she is precisely measuring out holes on a golden-yellow square. Sawing them out as my mind slows down to comprehend the question.

What would I like to eat?

I... I don't know, it is such an easy-to-answer question but the vagueness of the answer could lead to something vomit-worthy. Back in Tobaballe I never really had a choice, they just gave you whatever you were entitled to so long as you put in the Effort. And in the flower, Rose'lhia did all the thinking for me with my food, whenever I rarely found myself hungry.

"Uh..." my brain smokes out as it fizzles under the strain of its failing capacity to function. What do I want to eat? Should I be mindful of her great workload and ask for little and simple? Should I turn the offer down as it won't matter? What... Uhm...

"Well, let me put it another way, then. What kind of food do you normally like to eat, Nin?" Motrtha asks as she proudly swaggers up to a cupboard, opening it up and pulling out the sliding compartments. Hard, square objects cover the steel-shine racks completely, so tightly packed that the covers would tear off as you retrieved them. There must be thousands upon thousands of recipes!

I frown deeper as I try to think back to whatever made me the happiest. Some memories start to come to mind, sometimes when I was hurt, other times after I was full. There was always some room for it, pudding. Sweet, delicious pudding.

"S-Something sweet, please." I answer, hoping it is enough for the goddess.

"Sweet as in deserts? Theirs or meat sauces? Fruit?" she asks me as her head turns my way. I shut up out of embarrassment as that answer proves itself to not be enough.

"I don't... I don't know..." I answer too hastily and by the time I want to correct it, it's already too late in my head.

"Well, I guess I will make a bit of everything for you, then." Motrtha says as she pulls out an aged book with strange, blockish writing on it. I am almost reminded of birds and the scratch marks their claws often, and frustratingly, leave on paint and paper.

Almost as if the goddess heard my thoughts, she moves over to a circular drum and pulls out a blatantly cooking bird. Nearly the whole thing as well and it looks so perfect, like I can just nudge its flesh off. Golden, cracking skin, sprinkled with a bit of salt and pepper, tanned by melted butter. Pink, verging on white meat ready to leave a greasy trail on the lips and down your throat...

"What's that?" I ask as my tongue moves more than usual in a growing pool held back by my teeth.

"This is what is left of a chicken cooked on a rotisserie." Motrtha answers as she effortlessly takes it off the spike, sliding it off onto a red-hued chopping board. She brings a bowl over, one filled with reddish-brown goop and this 'chicken' sinks below the greenery-topped depths. A tap turns on by itself and the clear, rushing water wipes the divine's hands clean.

"I feel like I am not going to be able to recognise most of what is here..." I remark as I look around at everything on display. Either on a plate or bowl, prepped and ready or in a state of due process. One thing, in particular, seems to stick out, yellowed crust and a crumbling brown top. A ready sieve just beside it with snow-like dust.

An edible bowl of black and purple orbs with juices congealing into a thick jelly. I have no idea what this is in the slightest, but I want it so badly. It looks so nice. I know for a fact this will settle well in my stomach, how could it not!?

"If you eat your dinner fully, then I might let you have some of that blackberry tart, Nin." Motrtha explains as she suddenly appears by my side with an empty bowl. Placing it upside down, the beautiful desert is hidden away from my eyes. Never to be seen again until I oblige the standards of the First Mother's words.

Blackberry tart...

I really want to try it, so I will do as asked. It's being made for me specifically, anyway, so I think it will go down quite easily. However, knowing this, all of the strange foods start to stick out more. Does she make special meals for all her brothers and sisters as well?

"So... How does everyone like their meals?"

"Hm, let me think, as you are able to see here, Thurnmourer likes to be able to make things at mealtime. He simply cannot be made to not play with it, so, I make it so it is easier for him to build with, encouraging him to eat. In long due, messy time. Our younger sister Clohniq is much the same, but all I need is pulled meat or spaghetti pasta with her. Satiating that knitters desire within. Undwote always enjoys something that he can share with his puppies, Aahtha is a simple copycat and it's always games with her as to who she wants to emulate... Thankfully, most of them aren't fussy, they just want to eat. However, Oceinater won't eat anything but live fish."

"Why live?" I ask, tilting my head slightly.

"He likes to be, in his own words, a fishbowl at the table." Motrtha lets out with a bemused but ultimately exasperated huff.

"Right... That all that comes to mind?" I then ask as the memories of Oceniater latching onto my arm make me scratch the limb in ponder.

"Dad is very strict about roast dinners at the end of the week. Bless his cold, deathly heart, Undwote usually helps me out on those days. I like to think it is because it is the day named after him." Motrtha explains, smiling.

"Undsday, the Day of Death." I recall with a slight nod as our gazes share the view of a comically styled calendar with strange, simply drawn animals on them. Whatever it is they are saying to each other in that strange language, it makes Motrtha chuckle.

I flex my bandaged hand and look at it, "How about Waionr?"

"He's on the demanding side, but it is earnest and thoughtful." Motrtha answers as she sprinkles one spice holder by hand while her godly powers do the same to a dozen others.

"How come?"

"He will only ever eat what is popular among those he has recently buried in his fields. I wish sometimes he would focus a little more on himself and choose something regardless of mortals. But, I am glad he cares so much for those he tends to after all the nasty business is said and done." Motrtha explains as I watch her pick up a flagon loaded with small little flags on thin sticks.

"And what about you, what do you like to eat, Motrtha?" I ask her directly as I slowly find the courage to move from my stall. She stops and turns, slightly rosy in the cheeks as she hides her smile.

"Well... I am just fine with whatever tastes good and was made with love!" she answers after a brief quiet that seems to leave her slightly perturbed.

"Do the others ever make you anything?" I ask with a frown as my admittedly meaningless fury forces the words out. It sounds like Motrtha is always there for them and they take her for granted.

"Not often, but, Dad makes me cakes sometimes. I don't mind, though, I can't expect the others to get involved too often if at all. It's not in their nature, strange as it might be, Nin, we are conceptual beings. It's why even at dinner, Thurnmourer is so frustratingly adorable with his food creations. The God of Creation must create." she explains as she longingly looks about the ship with her eyes lingering on odd, but likely carefully chosen spots.

"Why not have Thurnmourer help? Push him in the direction of the kitchen. I know he's a blacksmith and all, but, even bakers offer him prayer. Creation isn't just hammer and anvil." I point out to her as remember an old conversation I had with an aspiring chef. In his humble little beginnings as a rations distribution worker. I was curious that day, about why he had a necklace dedicated to our shared craft-god, it seemed so strange back then.

"I guess it has never occurred to me. I do like watching him build with what I make, though. He loves it to bits and I love him." Motrtha swoons as the first brother she ever had dominates her thoughts. She must have a special bond with him, being the goddess created to stop the crying of the youthful, thundering babe. Always more mature, but never older.

I smile a little at my thoughts of the two, Motrtha has all the time in existence for her family. She can see them whenever, tend to them whenever, but, unlike me, I never really knew my family. Granpa and Ma were always reliable, they had to be as my parents were always so occupied with work. They spoiled me like their parents spoiled mine and others.

Seems so strange that a mother can see her family, though, I guess technically speaking... Motrtha is not a mother...

"Can... Can I help you out?" I ask as I try to shake my mind free of these dangerous thoughts. I have no idea how sensitive to such words she'll be. I can't even begin to imagine how frustrating it must be. At the very least, I can get the idea of being angry you have a job title, but not the actual job.

My face heats up steadily until a cool hand lovingly caresses it.

"Of course." she tells me with a smile only a mother can provide, yet, even then, she manages to be better than that. It would be enough to kill me with the force of the inputted 'dwaaaagh' were I actually to be alive right now!