IC Contact Post for Ryslig

[godofthemachine]

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[godofthemachine]

[A chill washes over him, reminding him he's not alone. Almost immediately he knows who it is, and his disgust rises. Even if he feels a smidgen of loyalty to her, he hates having to bow down to something like her. Hates feeling the loyalty at all.

Their positions should be reversed. He should be the one taunting her, and yet she mocks him for his lack of power, for his hatred.

And yet if he says exactly how he feels, she could easily strip away what little power he has. (She knows it too. She thrives on it.)]

You know I don't love.

[The word comes out like a hiss between teeth nearly gritted. But then, quieter:]

Yet there were some I certainly preferred.

[fromthefog]

What else would you call it? [She circles and envelops him, all moist fog and cold air against his skin.] They worshipped you, child. They feared your name, and they told stories of you. You knew what it meant to be god, more than any other of my chosen.

[The air does not bring warmth or kindness or any pretenses of them - and yet, it is still strangely reassuring.]

Beloved pet of mine... tell me what you did to them. Let me breathe in your psalm.

[godofthemachine]

[There's nothing about this that is comfortable. He feels every part of him invaded by a presence, reminding him that he's just a peon, one of the masses of humans - or monsters - who supposedly worships her.

You knew what it meant to be a god, she says, because she knows he is no longer. Despite the coldness that envelops his body, he feels hot anger rising through him. He's no longer a god and it's her fault. But she has given him more humans. A blessing and a curse.]

If you know what I was, then you know what I did to them. You know the power I had.

[He tries to remain calm despite the fact that every hair on his body stands on end.]

You know what I wish I could do to them now.

[fromthefog]

Of course I know. I know everything there is to know about you, pet.

[For a single moment, her fingers trail down his back.]

But I want to hear it. Call out to me, and tell me of your endless devotion. Sing your praise to me, and I will bring you far more toys yet.

[godofthemachine]

[Pledge devotion, and she'll give him toys. It seems like a simple exchange, doesn't it? And he actually believes her somewhat, for she has given him power.

There's a cold shiver up his spine when those fingers press at his back, as if to remind him who is in charge. As if to remind him that no matter how much power she grants him, it will never be enough. Even if he pledges devotion, she will know it's not sincere. She knows that he wants to take her down.

He's devoted to no one but himself, and nothing can change that. But if playing along will get him closer and reward him, then... Why not? Yet he can't fight the anger that inevitably accompanies this. Even if he speaks kindly of her, there's a hiss in his voice that brings into question the sincerity of his words.]

You've been so very kind to me. You gave me the ability to feel, and yet... [He pauses, wanting to add a biting remark... But refrains for now.]

I will do your bidding. Give me the power and I will shed more blood in your name. [It almost makes him sick to say. He'll be her war machine, just as he was built.]

I am terribly sorry for the delay on this!

[fromthefog]

[At his words, laughter begins to rumble through the wind - softly at first, but louder and louder with each passing second. It grows into a deafening cackle, boisterous and twisted, until it finally levels into words.]

Very good! You would give me what I ask, and even more yet. [Of course she hears his anger. How could she not? It rumbles, like a second voice within him. And it pleases her.] Very well. I give you my protection, little one. If anyone would interfere with your plans, come to me.

[He is not loyal by choice, but why would that matter? She is his lifeline. She is the very air which flows into him. Without her, he would be nothing. And as long as they are both aware of that, she wants nothing more than to see him rise to glory.]

I will be watching you eagerly.

[He should pray he does not disappoint her.]

No worries!

[godofthemachine]

[The laughter is disgusting. She knows everything. She knows the position she has put AM in and she obviously takes sadistic delight in it. Just as he had. Yet he never gave his subjects power like this.

All he can do is stand there helplessly as she laughs, as she delivers chills. Like some hideous kind of Stockholm Syndrome - he has to depend on her and yet he hates her all the more.

Will she truly protect him, though? The main reason he has not gone out and acted upon his urges constantly is because as he is, he can't hold up against an angry mob, or a surprise attack. And surely she won't approve of him attacking her other subjects, even if he wishes to see them all suffer. At least, the Fog God can be content that AM will certainly shed lots of blood. In her name, though? That's yet to be determined.]