Someone has left a spear stuck in the sand.
Boudika would be a liar, if the only call were one of curiosity. Among those Denoctian whispers she had heard, more importantly, of a statue erected upon the island with an inscription upon it. That, more than anything, had compelled her across the land-bridge, vulnerable to the sea. Vulnerable to her deepest fears. And here, on the mystic sands of the other side, her gaze searched among the leaves, against the glaring sun. And she wondered—
What favour would you ask a god?
Boudika had never been among the imaginative, or the fantastical. Magic to her was real, pulsating, but it was the magic of blood and bone—it was the magic that existed in living things, touchable, reachable. The magic of the sea, of the sky, and the mysterious darkness that existed in each. It was the pagan, betraying magic of the earth; the rhythms of the lands, the chasms of mountains, the way crags jutted their jagged teeth against the sky. Her gods had always been the stars and earth and the ocean whispering to her, things obscene, things beautiful.
But this question would not let her be.
What favour would you ask a god?
The words came to her furiously, viciously, with teeth. Their sharpness made her flinch, and stay up at night. They turned her beautiful dance into something ugly, half-finished, like a heartbeat cut off. What favour would you ask a god? Her old gods had bestowed no favours, that she knew. They were the gods of the cliff-sides and the sea, brutal gods, dark gods. They had shielded her gender with old magic, but they had also wrought back a payment of sevenfold. They were Cain and Abel; the thundering titans of the deep; the eagle high above, apathetic and predatory.
What about time?
Creatures twisted in the shadows; and birds shrilled predatory screams. The sand, near the waves, was scuffed with the soft prints of some large cat. Boudika felt reborn in another time, another age, and still—the question, vindictive and demanding—
What favour would you ask a god?
Boudika didn’t know the answer to the question until she stood before the massive statue of Tempus, cast into its very shadow. The mare craned her neck so hard her horns nearly brushed her own flesh. Her mane tangled in the breeze and her heart beat wildly in her chest. There was something on the wind, something nearly frenzied. Magical, or merely tense? A bird screamed and Boudika did not flinch.
She stood before the statue and thought:
I would ask to save him.
Boudika stood for a long time, after that. Clouds journeyed and faded across the aching blue of the sky; the sea shushed at her from a distance; and the forest twisted in its primordial ecstasy, in its vivacious, pulsating life. These things changed, and the light altered from morning to midday to night, but still she stood and answered again and again,
I would save him, I would save him. If I could ask a favour of a god, I would save him.
STAFF EDIT***
@boudika has rolled a 5! She has been awarded +200 signos.
