Dark Seed

Margot’s brow did a rather pretentious spike when Nimbus started rambling, but she said nothing to dissuade the eagle in her words. Yet she did bring up a solid point. What senses were they talking about? Taste, sight, sound, touch? Or a conglomeration of all of them? Fathom was an enigma. Margot would have rather of gone with Hastian considering her allegiances to him, but she ventured an internal guest if Janus hadn’t popped his head out by now then he definitely hadn’t been traveling the roads. She wanted nothing to do with Lira- pretentious and pretty Malachites with their songs of harmony, peace, and docility. So Fathom seemed to be the most viable option if only for the fact that it is the closest one.

Mise smiled. “Starlight.” She weaseled her head out of the wrap of white linens and smiled. “That is its’ favorite of all the presents. It especially likes it when it can see the stars against the Endless Sea. Meaning there need to be stars above and stars below.”
“That is a common phenomenon here.” Magnus assured to the non-Ebony citizens.
“But you have to claim it as your starlight.” Mise stated firmly- as if her father was too daft to understand what she was implicating. “Tell it you moved the clouds for it, and if it is in a good mood it’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Just know,” an ominous tone shrouded the youth’s voice. “It is the souls of dead gods. Don’t bring up anything that might remind it of its’ past- or it’ll get sad.”
“And violent,” Magnus frowned. “Fathom can cause storms- emotional storms that can drive mortals crazy. It is all the pent up thoughts and feelings that are buried inside of it. Mortals rarely ever die happy.” With that he slowly stood and glanced over at Mise before looking at the three that stood before them. “So avoid using ‘Dark Seed’ in your conversation- just stick to Janus or the Liarsmith if it seems too testy with that.”
It was then Mise popped out of her blanket and strode to the middle of the throne room. “Can I take them there daddy?”
Magnus didn’t flinch- he had expected this. “I would say no- but you go there all the time, and if you come right back there will be no issue.”
The last half of his sentence was nearly cut off with a long and piercing: “yay!”
“Right back though.” The man reiterated.
“Yes sir.” Mise saluted somewhat comically to her father, and Magnus smiled softly.

It was then she nodded. “I can transport everyone there- it is my power. I of course have to come back- so you’ll be on your own after that. But you can manage- yes?”
“They can.” It was then Magnus placed his hands on his hips and frowned. “Though if I have a wave of angered emotions shroud the Ebony City I will find you and rend those seeds from your chest.”
“Are you ready- anything else?” Mise pretended to ignore her father and instead smiled brightly.

<style type="text/css">P { margin-bottom: 0.08in; }</style> Starlight didn't seem like something a person wouldn't use their senses to enjoy. But hey, if it works, why complain? Nimbus was happy to know there was something they could do, at the least. The warning not to make Fathom sad, or perhaps even angry, was a little concerning to Nimbus. The Golden Eagle had some bad habits of saying something that might tick someone off. She hoped she could keep her beak from slipping up. The idea of having her seeds rendered sent chills up her spine. Mise's voice brought her back to the issue at hand.



“Are you ready- anything else?” She asked. Nimbus smiled, and shook her head.


“Couldn't be more ready, little Dove.” Nimbus said, thinking she was just as white as a Dove. The Copperian looked to her companions from her perch on Tristans shoulder. It was likely that they were ready too.

Starlight? That was not what Tristan had expected, but if that was what worked than so be it. He listened quietly to Magnus and his daughter, and offered the young girl a smile when she asked if they were ready. “We’re ready, sweetling.” He told her gently.

Mise giggled and nodded. “It’ll only take a second,” she remarked as she shut her eyes. Those small lips of hers began to form silent words and her digits clasped between each other in a clamshell pattern. Margot didn’t quite know the importance of all the precedence- considering Talents worked without any provocation- but then again she didn’t know much about gods or godlings. Magnus stood and glanced over the group, and the small Copperian’s attention shifted from his angelic child to the boorish man. There was an odd look about his face as if he was stricken with fear and desire at the same time. Maybe- just maybe- the god was anxious. Margot could only assume that all his cruel words and snide remarks were just Magnus being a god, and not at all Magnus being a doting father. That brought a smile to her face a moment before the scenery changed.

Margot’s hooves went from touching the hard marble slab of the Temple’s floor to finding herself shifting wildly upon the dark sands of an ebon beach. Inevitably she lost her balance entirely and landed directly on her rear and consequently her tail. A bleating noise of panic and pain emancipated from her lips before she rolled to the side and began to hoist herself up.
The scenery around them was not what the Copperian woman would call a beach, and yet it was probably was the closest resemblance she could muster internally. The sands underneath their feet were similar to Magnus’s floor in the fact that they were a dark black with specks of glittering pearlescent, and yet they rose and fell like dunes across the beach line. The ocean was a inky cavernous pit that poured out before them, and betwixt the dank waves of nothingness were floating crystals that were as bright as snow. These were what Ebon Fishermen hunted. Why? Because they were worth lifetimes of wealth. These hovering minerals powered many of the City of Steels and City of Carnelians flying warships, they had allowed for the hovering High Houses in Ivory City, and in the Ebony City they were smelted into the walls and ground to keep the city slightly afloat so that they did not topple into the excavated caverns underneath.
They sky was still as black as it was in Ebony City- and there wasn’t a star in sight.

Margot was about to ask for Mise to explain what she meant by starlight but the small happy beacon of a girl was gone. Apparently her transportation talent was limited or she truly feared her father’s wrath in needing to linger in this place. Her eyes came to Nimbus and Tristan in a curious manner.
Yet before she questioned either of them her eyes came to the edge of the beach. There on that threshold between sandy ground and infinitesimal darkness was what one could call Fathom. It was a culmination of souls, and truly did look like it. Fragments of broken seeds swirled in a luminescent mist. It was no taller than a grown Carnelian, but most of its bulk was carried up top. It was almost as if the being was an un-chaotic tornado made of the purest lights and fragments of stars.
Oddly enough it did have a face. Margot had to assume that it was a gift from Mise considering the whimsicality of it. A set of five porcelain masks swirled within that syphon of souls: a happy one, a sad one, a blank one, a questioning one, and an angry one. It seemed to enjoy inflecting more than one emotion at once because it brought to the front the happy and questioning masks. “We are curious. Usually the Little One visits us in such a fashion. Who are you?”

Nimbus had heard Fathom speak, but at the moment she was steadying herself on Tristans shoulders. The man was standing, but she felt so weird after that teleportation, that she lightly flapped her wings in irritation of the movement before she folded them to her side. Her blue eyes swept the sight into memory. How strange. More black glitter...

"Uh, we are Margot, Tristan, and I am Nimbus." The Copperian spoke to him. "The Little One took us here..." Nimbus wasn't sure what else she could say, or rather, 'should' say.

Tristan breathed in deep when he felt the air around them change. He could smell the sea – the saltiness of it upon his tongue, and he could hear the crunch of the sand beneath his feet, the way he would sink in a little when he took a step. There were other ways to see, even without the use of his eyes.

When Tristan heard the new voice he turned his head towards the sound, listening. He dipped into his ability, seeing in this new way.

He was not quite sure what to say, and the introductions had been made. He waited and listened, waiting for this being to speak again.