God of Eyes

Miana had a vague idea of her people's plan, but after her conference with her believers, they had not bothered to sit down and specifically lay things out for her. She... felt their plan. Perhaps they had offered it in prayer and it was given to her, just not in so many words.

Of all the people on the plateau, Miana is probably the one who had the least faith in herself as a goddess, when it came down to it. She sensed the plan, but she doubted her feelings; she sensed her connection to her people, but feared that they would refuse her. She knew her power, but feared she would fail to use it properly.

She failed to live up to her own expectations, without a doubt. A goddess was not supposed to fuss and fret about nothing, but the stress of it was almost too much. She didn't understand, and she wanted, needed to understand these things before she was tested. Whenever it came down to combat, she would fret and pace, running through what she knew in her mind, always preparing, always thinking. And this... this was something she needed to think through for another year or more before she'd be comfortable.

But as panicked instants turned into minutes, patterns emerged, patterns that some new part of herself felt more and more comfortable with as moments passed by. Instincts that she wanted to dismiss became nagging voices in her head, telling her the same things consistently, and as she looked, she found them to be true. And... one of the things that her godly wisdom was telling her was that panicking was hurting her.

So she took a deep breath and focused inwards, listening to everything, feeling everything.

What she felt most strongly was that the people with the deepest faith in her--not the previous goddess, but in Miana--all were trusting her to take care of something else so she could focus on the battle, and that calmed her heart. They had said as much, and they meant it; the soldiers were their enemy, and the Necromancers were hers.

And then they struck, and although she flailed around trying to block the red and black magic that she could only vaguely sense, she knew she had failed some of her people. The Blades--the souls of the dead, pledged to the Goddess before her--threw themselves valiantly against the attack, and Miana could sense it corroding them, weakening them, even sometimes corrupting them. Much more of that, and the weapons would be gone, or possibly turned against her people.

Ryan, as always, forged on ahead trying to set up some magic attack, as though he alone could turn the tide of the battle. The magic she sensed was good... but not overwhelming, and if he wasted the shot, it would all be for nothing.

So she pushed aside her fear and connected with him, briefly; it was not hard to find his spirit, not as close as the two were, physically. This is not your fight. She grit her teeth; that wasn't exactly what she meant, so she tried again. I have to find a way to beat these creatures.

She could sense the defensive hostility in his tone when he replied. I swore that I would do what I can to see us through this. There was a momentary pause, as though he became reflexively aware of his haste, and forced a measure of calm, himself. Tell me what I can do.

That was the way. Miana nodded to herself. The transformation felt familiar--a warrior caught up in his own fight, only to realize his place in the greater battle and follow orders. She had been there many times; the chaos of war dragged the greatest of warriors into that focused state, bordering on losing themselves. She herself was certainly no exception.

Guide my people while I protect them. When I tell you, unleash your power on the dark ones. Ryan had directly told her to make use of people, and so she did, weaving her power through the Fallen Blades to direct as many of them forward as she could.

Her interference, though, sent ripples through her existing blessings, and she felt Loi hissing something like a prayer at her that didn't quite make it all the way to her, consciously. Her godly instinct, though, felt it, and relayed it almost like a cold, clinical report: the two gods were not working together well.

And when she could spare a moment to consider it, she knew it to be true. She sensed the gap between the two of them, neither fully connected to each of the warriors they were trying to help. It was like two swords trying to fit in one sheath; they stuck on each other, rather than becoming one sword.

And that instinct told her what she needed to do, loathe as she was to admit it.

She stood up, her bare feet scrambling against the rough floor of Ryan's private waterfall cave, and although she was very nearly blind to what was going on with her body, she made her way unerringly towards where she knew Ryan's body was. Her spirit, though, had to cast itself in one more direction, while knowing that this was not going to be simple, or simply explained.

Somehow, though, her mind split successfully, if just barely, and Lucile seemed surprised to see her.

...What do you need? To her credit, Lucile understood her sense of urgency at a glance.

Erika said... the three of us could be one. I need to connect what Ryan knows, what we all know... I need to connect... What was she even trying to do? She didn't even know how to put it into words, but she forced her way through. ...us. I need to connect us. You, and me, and him.

Lucile, she sensed, had a moment where she considered that to be a... sexual relationship matter, and then immediately put it out of mind. That can't work unless the three of us trust each other completely, and I don't. I don't know you, and--

Then dominate me, she hissed. I am a sword, not a woman, not a goddess. Use his eyes to guide my people. Use my will and my domain. Protect them. Her feet found their way to Ryan, leaning against the wall by the generator, and he turned to her in shock. I trust you to do the right thing, and I know he can fix me if you break something. Just... please... win this battle.

Lucile sat in shock, her godly will and multiple minds processing what Miana had said. In truth, though, she must have known, must have seen it. Lucile was the only one of the three that was a seasoned goddess, and yet, she had been standing back and pretending that this issue was someone else's. Would she, could she really afford to continue that? If the necromancers were able to get their hands on so many keys, would she really be able to escape safely? Would the world be safe?

Miana felt cracks appear in the mask that was Lucile. The woman behind was older--not ancient; she didn't have the deep despair that Miana had felt coming from Lu'nella's avatars, nor the dusty feel of death that she had sensed in the djinn. She simply felt... mature, if always hiding behind the mask of a young and beautiful woman.

When she spoke, Miana didn't sense light behind the words, but darkness. Darkness like a brewing storm, one that would sweep both good and bad people alike away with it.

Fine.

I was focusing on the storm and my few paltry blessings when, to my surprise, Miana appeared before Ryan, and as though it was some kind of catharsis, took my head in both hands and gave me a firm and deep kiss on the lips.

I... had never expected that, certainly not from a woman who had stabbed me, and I did not understand the words that came out of her lips, as she pulled back. "Trust Alanna. Save me."

And then like an explosion, like a dust storm appearing from the horizon, Alanna was there, and the mental picture of our shared connection was all kinds of right and wrong all at once.

The mental picture was Alanna, the goddess, snatching up Ciel'ostra--a bastard combination of the woman warrior goddess I'd met and argued with, once, and Miana--and turning the woman into a sword. Miana, I could tell, wrestled with the action, but had firmly made up her mind to accept being a weapon, to accept being used.

With her other hand, Alanna reached for me.

A lot of thoughts ran through my head, but what I was quickly able to come to terms with was that I did need to trust Alanna, here. She may not be a warrior, but certainly she knew more of godly matters than Miana and I put together. As Goddess of Knowledge, anything we knew and gave willingly to her would become hers, and she could give it to others. If someone could combine Miana's blessing and my own, it would be her.

But... the image of Miana trying to be something she wasn't stuck with me, and I hesitated. She was a sword, but she wasn't just a sword. And I could be either of two things, but I was not just either of them, nor just the two together.

So I split myself into three--an eye, a ball of lightning, and a small midget-like person, who clung onto Alanna's arm as she reached for me, and scrambled to perch on her shoulder. I reached out to Miana, trying to convince her to do the same, but... she didn't seem to understand, not yet.

The metaphor aside, as Alanna reached to take the two gifts, I felt incredibly strange, and exceedingly nervous--but not afraid. Pieces of me that had been whole separated, but were not broken; they pulled apart like blocks meant to be removed, and although they slipped out of my hands, they still seemed to be mine. And I, sitting on Alanna's shoulder, reached for her, and found myself inside something greater than me, something greater than I'd ever seen, greater in some respects than I could conceive of, even as I observed it.

The weight of Alanna.

If my mental "room" where I sat had been a seat in front of a single computer monitor--or two, now, with Ryan and Xethram--hers was a swivel chair surrounded by several windows, but also surrounded by thousands of notes pinned on hundreds of corkboards, and the noteboards were organized, intuitive, with sections of notes swapping in and out as she confirmed what she thought she remembered. Never, it seemed, was the answer far from her fingertips; she knew what she knew, and where in that neatly organized little hell-hole to find out for sure. There was a surety, a confidence, an absolute weight to her experience.

I had only a moment's thought that I could do something to organize the seeming chaos, but the weight of her system crushed it. This was how she worked--and perhaps how people worked. Fussing would only get in the way, and I bowed to that wisdom within instants.

She seemed to recognize that I was there, in her... her place, the place in which she was her. She... trusted me. She trusted that I would not meddle, would not touch, would look and stay clear, and I did. I felt a strange desire to touch things, to touch... her, and know what another person, another goddess felt like, but even with the godly parts of me separate, somehow I knew that was the height of foolishness, the height of selfishness. It was an instinct I didn't understand, but... understood.

The oddest thing about the image, though, was the lie of it; none of the "monitors" were her seeing what was going on. They gave her windows on the world, but only through her own eyes. There was no obvious point of entry for that knowledge, that understanding of the situation, and yet she did know, or sensed, somehow.

"It's you," the woman in the swivel chair remarked. "Those aren't my people, they're yours."

Which was true, I supposed, but with me in her... her, weren't we the same person, at least for now?

"Stay focused," she replied, and I blinked and forced myself to focus on her, although... she, the woman in the chair, was more formless than anything else here. She wasn't Alanna, or Lucile, or-- "Focus!"

So I did, and I realized after a moment that it was true--although I had dived into Alanna's mind, my own godly powers were still out connected to me, just... through her, for the moment. My sense of Eyes, and the blessings I'd given; my sense of Storms, and the one I was building. In the moments I'd lapsed, some of the storm had slipped, and some of the blessing, but... but...

But Miana was there, too, I realized. But she didn't see herself, didn't understand herself as a person in a room. She could not separate her mind from her senses and powers, and to reach her power, Alanna had to go through her.

Trust Alanna. Save me. The words bit me, suddenly, and I reached for Miana. Where there should have been a person, a chair, and a window, there was a madwoman trying to rip pieces out of a window and throw them, trying to take a chair and move it to where someone else could sit. She... she wanted so badly to do the right thing, but understood nothing.

While I couldn't touch anything of Alanna's without screwing up her system, I didn't hesitate with Miana. My mind separated what I saw and felt into Miana and the seat and the window, as well as the connections and powers of her domain, and I grabbed Miana and picked her up with a bear hug, dragging her away from the window and throwing her back into the chair. She, delirious, tried to get back up, but I sat on her lap, trying to keep her pinned in the seat, pinned in her self.

Somehow, again, although I was barely certain she understood who I was, she wrapped her arms around me and planted a kiss on my lips. It was... I felt certain that this wasn't the kind of thing that was supposed to happen. This wasn't bodies, it was a metaphor, and that kiss was... was an openness, an intimacy that almost certainly should not happen, not between souls, not between minds.

And the two of us, in a strange sense, were one, and two at the same time. It was not a wound, the tunnel between our souls; but neither was it natural, finished, or even chosen by us. It was instinctual, felt, a mechanism of souls that was somehow a part of human nature and yet seemed so completely foreign that it could not, should not have actually happened.

I probably shouldn't let--shouldn't DO that, I thought, and for all the world it seemed like me thoughts were incredibly loud. Miana, this is a bad idea.

I must save my people, Miana's voice hissed in reply, and it felt faded, weakened, and scared. No matter what the cost.

This isn't about cost--

At that moment, Alanna spoke up, and her voice was crystal clear. "Save it," she snapped. "Ryan, give me her power and connections, and yours. She can't deal with this right now."

I should not have been able to lay hands on Miana's things, and yet they were there, and with possibly unnecessary care, the kind of care I used when I was in someone else's filthy apartment was afraid brushing against any small thing would cause piles of garbage to collapse, I reached over and took hold of senses, of links, of enchantments, of bonds--even of thoughts and memories.

Miana's eyes watched me with pain, but some kind of willful submission. It felt exceedingly dirty to me, to have her looking at me like that. She was crying out for help, but this was the wrong time to focus on her. All I could do was promise myself to come back to her later, to this later, to fix her, heal her, however that needed to be done.

I ended up inside of Miana's body, and my own, looking at myself through both eyes. It was odd. Miana didn't know the beauty I saw in her face, and I didn't know the rugged looks of my own--though in my case, I mostly still wasn't used to what my new face actually looked like. We both felt embarrassed to be stuck together, but...

Focus. Neither of us needed Alanna's help to remember, in that moment; we didn't want to continue that line of thought. I grabbed Miana's mind and joined her in trying to be her, as well as myself, all at once. And Miana, to her credit, wrapped herself tightly to me, and tried to... be me? A little bit?

And then, with an surety that came only from age and experience and certainly not from having done this before, Alanna joined us.

If Miana and I joining had been awkward and complicated and confused, Alanna seemed to blunt the impact of the sudden intimacy by simply preparing for it; the first contact was subdued, and when she sent her fingers into our entangled minds, she didn't feel a need to explore, but only trusted that we would all take care of one another and our part in the lurid spiritual ménage à trois. She felt the same intimacy, the same connection, and I thought she enjoyed that feeling, but...

But she wasn't an idiot thinking about sex on a battlefield.

Miana and I, with no small help from Alanna, got our minds out of the gutter, and stopped thinking about the situation as being about the connection we shared. We shared it; now we needed to act. Although the two of us shared an awkward agreement that we wanted this too much, we successfully pushed the feelings aside.

Then and only then, when the three of us were connected but separate, was Alanna able to focus and weave her domain of Knowledge through the both of us, collecting everything from the Eyes blessing and feeding it through the Blades blessing that Miana had been maintaining. And, as though a switch had been flipped, the battle changed; the Blades rallied immediately, suddenly overpowering their enemies with a robust certainty to their actions, as each Blade got the benefit of not only their own boosted eyesight, but the boosted eyesight of every blade, together.

I felt myself worrying about how much soulflame we must be spending on this endeavor, but when I checked, I found that our pools of flame were trading flame in a triangular pattern, and the flame was not simply becoming golden, but began to become something else entirely--it shimmered, transparent and beautiful. Is that Clearflame?

"No," replied Alanna, without looking. "Clearflame is just clear flame. That looks like..."

Diamonds! Miana shivered. It looks like diamonds. That wasn't in the book.

"I've never seen it before," confirmed Alanna. "Can we focus?"

We did. Amidst our distraction, the enemy necromancers had struck again, and Alanna, as the one most directly paying attention, deflected it with our combined power. Where the power she used was diamond flame, I could tell; that power seemed to be ideally suited for defense, as it was as hard and strong as diamond, and the black flame failed to even scratch it, let alone worm its way in. In other places, with lesser flame, the black sense struggled against our combined power but did make some inroads.

But with the... connection issues sorted out, we now had the power and the focus to turn on our enemy. Miana, though hesitant confirmed for us that this was all she needed; it was her contract with her people. We would kill the necromancers, and they would kill the army.

As I considered the weapons at our disposal, the two women could feel my amusement growing. I had a burning desire to showboat, and Alanna seemed to agree that it was a good time and place for a dramatic showing of godly might.

That only left one question, in my mind. How do you two feel about ridiculous theatrics?

Neither responded with hatred or disgust, which was answer enough for me.