Marika
The dawn felt strangely comforting against her skin as she slowly raised her head. The ache was far greater than it had been the week prior, yet her thoughts had again become clear and unburdened, no longer stained with red or rage. A sigh of relief escaped her lips, a silent prayer that all she had suffered was a fleeting accident. The sight around her – her own tent and the cloak draped over her bandaged bosom, a cloak that was not hers – spoke volumes of the prior night. Thankfully, the absence of a painful ache between her thighs suggested the ordeal had ended swiftly after her own thoughts had faded into dreams. A testament to the trust placed in her would-be Protector. Yet, the puzzle of this person stirred a seed of doubt within her. Am I treading unknowingly into a snare...?
Luna
She sighed, hefting the deer onto the wagon beside her. Quiet and peaceful was how she yearned to experience this world, even if the task laid before her was fraught with conflict. Marika was a goddess, a crooked, manipulative, genocidal one at that. Few of their kind were any better, yet damned if her own empathy wouldn't be her undoing. Simply being near the woman had transformed her once easily ignited anger at another pompous god into sympathy, even empathy, and a soft concern for the state in which the woman had been left. No lady should be left so... deprived.
Luna knew the task ahead would be irritating, nerve-wracking, and thankless. Arguably, she had already decided to defy her orders, but often her mother's words twisted and turned like riddles, leaving her to wonder if that was why her missive had once more been a puzzle of words. It was a trait she loved about their languages, the myriad beautiful ways they could be shaped. Yet, it also meant that even simple sentences could morph into stunning and complex riddles, puzzles demanding unraveling. Marika was likely her greatest puzzle of all. Perhaps just what I need after...
Her mother had requested she handle this – rebirthing Marika through her great powers as a trial of sorts. The stated end was to be a slow and painful burning alongside those cast archways, a monument to the terribleness of divinity. Yet, upon rereading the written statement, Luna found herself swayed by her own feelings. Her mother, Skithistalia, knew that for all her capacity as an executioner, she was far more a woman of mercy. She hadn't earned the moniker 'The Restful' through mere brutal violence. She knew when a person was beyond saving, just as well as when they weren't. Her eyes scanned over the scrap of paper, normally tucked beneath her robes.
By Order of the Queen Skithistalia, Luna Evaresia is to find and engage with the former Queen Marika, to the ends of eradicating the vileness that has so thoroughly Tarnished these lands. Cleanse it of the god that has tainted it, my child.
She stowed the missive back into her robes, planning to burn it before the night was over with a sigh. Never can make things easy, can you Mother? A quiet smirk painted her lips for a fleeting second. Just how I like it.
Luna knelt by the nearby waters, washing the grime from her hands. A soft smile touched her lips, her gaze lost briefly in the teeming life within the shallows. In such small amounts of water, her eyes discerned billions, trillions of tiny creatures invisible to most. The fluid dance of the fish. The countless minuscule beings that kept the flowing waters free of refuse. The way the very stones acted as subtle filters near the river mouths, welcoming all forms of life to refresh themselves. Water was what guided them all in peace, and it often made her wonder if that was why the ocean sang to her so beautifully. It had since her earliest memories, though few they were before those days in that terrible cage. Her eyes clenched for a moment, dispelling the memory as soon as it had formed. She felt one of her others soothe the rushing anxiety. 'Even in these strange lands, you are never alone.' Heiress spoke softly within her mind and calming the brief ache left by the ephemeral pain.
She wagged her hands dry before resting a palm on the hilt of her blade, normally hidden beneath her cloak. A pale white sheath and matching hilt, tasseled with a single strip of silvery ribbon. Her oldest blade and the one that had ensured this journey would be fair. Not the usual way I use Ivalice's first release, but Mother should know what to do with this gilded queen's divinity. Luna would be Marika own judge and jury, Ivalice only to return once she faded in the instance that all hope was lost. It would fade away soon alongside the trinkets she had brought, but they had been just to ensure she secured Marika without suspicion. That definitely failed. A sweatdrop rolled down her temple for a moment.
Her thoughts drifted as her eyes caught sight of Marika standing at their camp, moving slowly with the clear intention of gathering her bearings. Last night had surely been rough, and Luna was giving her the space she needed to recover. Marika seemed to be faring better now, her bare soles digging lightly into the dirt, a gesture that seemed to soothe the exhaustion etched on her face. It was replaced it with a quiet relief that was rather relaxing just to witness. In many ways, she truly resembled a tree in her divinity, and a small smile touched Luna's lips. There was hope then, for that divinity to blossom anew. It would be a long task, but one Luna hoped would end happily. Her deepest wish was to see this journey conclude with Marika's great tragedy averted, but she remained realistic in her expectations.
Still, watching the golden-haired goddess look so relieved by the simple act of standing in the soil and allowing the wind to caress her cheeks brought the warrior a sense of calm satisfaction in her acceptance of this task. Perhaps even a flicker of intrigue, as her eyes found themselves briefly drawn to that still-lovely form. The bandages and sores did little, in Luna's eyes at least, to diminish what was clearly visible: beauty, golden and glimmering, even if 'tarnished' for now by the pains of capture and recovery. Nothing ruined about her, merely hurt. Hurt... What a familiar thing.
She watched the wind whip and swirl until suddenly, that mass of golden hair lashed out and struck the gilded queen right in the face with a sudden thwack of wind-swept strands. Luna couldn't contain herself and let out a hearty laugh, which only served to further flush the quickly noticing goddess's features.
Marika
"It is no laughing matter! I have simply not had time to fix my radiant locks, and I shan't have a cackling fox howling at every misfortune that has befallen me until such a time!" Try as she might to maintain her composure, the furious and frizzed nature of her hair only amplified the comedic display, and Luna responded in kind by dropping to the dirt, laughing and pounding a fist until a small dent formed in the earth beneath it.
Marika felt her fury intensify as she watched her would-be Protector pound the soil with more mirth than a pig wallowing in its own muck for the first time. Her cheeks burned with indignity. She stomped her foot once, then turned and marched back towards the campsite with a low growl. What boorish behavior from one who was supposed to be my so-called savior!
Despite those strange eyes, Marika would steel herself against further insolence, or so she told herself. Even as the laughter sent tiny cracks through her carefully hidden reserve, so small yet undeniably present, she lamented and sought to quell the unsettling sounds by walking along the hillside, further away from the laughter and that increasingly disrespectful knight. Did she possess no decorum around a lady, much less a queen?? Not to mention a goddess at that!!! It was as if she were forced to dance with a mere child who knew only its own left feet. She lamented that if this was her trial, it was a doomed one. If this was to be her Elden Lord, that is.
Her steps soon led her along the cliff's edge, and the feel of the grass beneath her bare feet was surprisingly soothing. It offered a glimmer of hope that perhaps not all she had built was destined to be lost. Life possessed an inherent resilience, and should she ever return to those great twin pillars, she could find a way to restore herself and remake the Golden Order. The very thought ignited a renewed fervor in her heart and brought a small smile to her face. "Things need not fully tarnish... Perhaps..." As the wind gently billowed her skirt, her gaze drifted towards the distant lands that led to the Capital, a subtle hint of gold returned to her skin, and hope, once more, fully kindled.
"We can make it even better this time."
We can only ever make it worse.
His rage would not be so easily silenced.