Amias|Love|Mentions: Other Deities

Amias furrowed his brow at Cresil's reply, his jaw tightening ever so slightly in annoyance at the deity of hate's mocking tone and implications. A soft fury was beginning to bubble within his chest, a feeling he was all too familiar with whenever dealing with him. Cresil's intuitive sense of knowing exactly how to push his buttons never failed to amaze him, even if only quietly. "Oh please Cresil," He said smoothly, although the irritation was beginning to slip from his tone. An almost arrogant look glittered in his cold gaze, his lidded eyes and slight smirk almost appearing as if he was flirting. "Do enlighten me on how a deity as 'weak' as myself could possibly bring an entire world into ruin compared to your magnificent grandeur..." Despite the obvious irritation in his tone, there was a sarcastic charm that he hoped would equally irritate or discomfort Cresil. Amias knew this deity couldn't possibly fathom the idea of love in any capacity, and the simple act of flirting was something he hoped would cause a bit of an enraged fire.

Although most often considered to be a more "peaceable" and "kinder" deity, Amias was not one to shy away from destructive tendencies or confrontations. He liked to poke and prod, perhaps a trait he and Cresil shared. A few strands of hair fell around his face, framing his slender features as his haughty smirk only grew. Perhaps it was a good thing Shiloh entered when she did, her voice pulling his attention away from Cresil. Her presence came as a pleasant shock, having not even heard her small steps approaching. His expression shifted into one of small joy as she greeted him.

"Shiloh, my love, it has certainly been far too long." His gaze traversed over her, landing on the stained and tattered parts of her dress. His nose wrinkled ever so slightly in an expression of minimal disgust. He personally liked to keep cleanly, and couldn't imagine appearing at such an important meeting dressed any other kind of way. "You've...you've certainly chosen an interesting attire," He commented lightly, his tone teasing yet kind.

Mejer's arrival followed suit, Amias' eyes drifting over death. He fell silent, observing silently as Mejer took a seat next to Cresil, his words biting and nasty. Love did not bother to greet him in any sense, feeling no need to disturb his already irritated mind. He held respect for Mejer, although part of him he couldn't help but dislike. While death in itself was a darkly beautiful thing, along with it came immense pain. Unlike Cresil, Amias found true care in the mortals that lived among the realms they created, even if at times he got carried away and started fires he could not put out. He held respect in that fact the Mejer was one to comfort and guide their souls in their last moments, but at the same time he wrestled with why it even had to happen in the first place. Grief was extremely hard for Amias to grasp. It was a form of love he hated simply because there was nowhere else for it to find a home. It just....was.

"No need to be contemptuous," Amias snapped at Cresil in his dry remark towards Shiloh. Perhaps above all the other deities, Amias held a certain affection for her. She was the most patient with him, and while at times his irritation flared, he held a care and love for her that he didn't seem to possess for many others. A sister, he treated her as if he was a protective older brother, although she was nearly identical in age to the rest and certainly didn't need any sort of protecting. "Although I can't imagine you have the capacity to be anything but."

At Lyrssa's call to start, Amias held his cold gaze on Cresil for a moment longer, his irritation still bubbling. He finally shifted, leaning back in his seat and resting his hands on the table in front of him. His rings glittered in the light, his fingers lightly brushing over them as he listened to the deity of life speak. "If I may voice my concerns," He said after a moment. "I cannot be the only one who is hesitant on the matter at hand. Who's to say this world will not fail like the other? Especially with less of us present than the last time. Our bickering seems to be ever-present," He cast a brief yet chilling glance towards Cresil, "May I ask what brings any of us to believe this will be any better?"

Mejer | Death | M: Lryssa, Cresil (dir.) everyone else (ind.)

At the call to action, Mejer took his feet off the table, straightening his back up as his name left Lryssa's lips. He fought back a smile, hiding his face in his shoulder in a sort of bashful way. He knew that Cresil and perhaps everyone else would catch on. Coughing into his shoulder followed by clearing his throat. Yes. That was a good tactic to hide it. That was followed by a sneeze. That was unplanned. "Sorry." He whispered to Cresil, "I think I'm getting sick." He was immortal but Mejer was not immune to those stupid mortal viruses. His line of work led him down a lot of weird paths and often he would go home sick. Or with ringworm... That was fun.

His eyes settled back on Lyra, eyes bright in the blinding light overhead. Everyone's eyes looked bright in this light. "Can we have this meeting in the dark?" He complained, "That way I don't have to see your faces." He threw in a dramatic whine at the end of faces, giving the Deity of Life a playful smirk that spread to a full blow smile as he looked at her, his mouth open slightly in said smile.

.

The deity gave Amias a.... well it wasn't a glare for sure, but it also wasn't too nice of a look. His eyes traveled to his ring that showed in the light for a moment, twisting his own on his finger under the table. His eyes scanned back to Lyra. His face fell as he noticed how reserved she suddenly was after Amias spoke. It made him hostile towards the Deity of Love, now giving him a full, nasty glare. He wanted to reach out to his partner in crime, to hold her and comfort her. He gave her a sad, almost puppy dog look before sadly looking at the table. So much had been lost, and how the others let what they had slip through their fingers, Mejer didn't know. He had hardly spent any time in the morals space but he'd watched it slowly wither away into nothing. That had been their home, and he couldn't help save it.

A sudden rush of anger spread across him like a wildfire. His jaw clenched as he stared at the table, tracing the patterns with his eyes. Your eyes had to move to remember memories, so that's what he did. "Well," His voice was soft at first, "We can't let this world die as well." Now there was a spitting anger present, "We need to do better, clearly. Isn't that what this meeting is for?" He asked, looking around. You all need to do better. He thought, knowing damn well that he couldn't touch anything that he wasn't supposed to. "I'm stuck." He started again, hesitantly, "I am powerless when it comes to the mortal world. "Hell, I hardly know what it looks like. So, you guys are going to come up with a plan, and I'm going to judge it." He said, shrugging. What else could he do? He walked invisible in the outside world, having a time limit to how long he could stay out. He was scared to touch trees or plants in fear of killing them.

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His chin quivered once as he gazed away again, biting his cheek. I'm sorry I'm not much help. He wanted to say, but that was weak, and what use was a weak god? Deities were supposed to lead, to set an example, to represent the world but what good was a deity that didn't represent much? He knew that the others, especially Amias, wasn't a fan of his work, so he did his best to hide his livelihood, to avoid talking about his job around the others in fear of their hate. He looked at Cresil, "Have anything to add?" He interrogated, assuming that it would be followed by a snide remark. He gave the deity a slight glare, almost daring him to challenge Mejer among the others. He would enjoy it in all honesty, after all, Cresil always made him oddly feel better about himself. While he didn't like the authority that he often hung over his head, it still didn't stop him from looking up to the man. He had self respect, and Mejer liked that. Cresil knew what he wanted, and he felt that the others could use some of that as well.

With a sigh, Mejer closed his eyes, looking down. The bright lights were hurting his head. In a broody way he silently sat there listening but not retaining information being said. The deities' mind was elsewhere, thinking about how their past world had failed so badly, what caused it? What was the root problem? Was the cancer truly himself and those around him? He knew that they were going to go up in smoke if they didn’t figure it out.

Cresil | Hate | Mentions: Lyrssa, Amias, Mejer {Dir.}

“Hope is much worse than a crime,” Cresil had retorted casually to Lryssa, “It’s an ambitious investment with an unpredictable market at best. There’s no harm in a friendly reality check.” Smiling in feigned amiability, the deity of hate idly surveyed the next brief exchange between Lyrssa and Amias. As insufferable as these gatherings among gods proved to be, at least Cresil was devouring his share of entertainment next to his genuine interest in the new world.

“Enlightening dense ignorance is an impossible feat, even for my abilities you so humbly acknowledge,” Cresil mused to Amias, concealing an expression of hilarity. “Your only failure was being too weak to be a savior, but seeing how we’re all sharing in monumental defeat, I digress.” While Amias’ agitation was palpable, he was curious to dance around the line of a trap it sounded like Amias had attempted to set in some capacity. While he found games to be enjoyable, Amias was an entity that could leverage an angle Cresil either purposefully overlooked or was incapable of catching. At the very least, perplexing exchanges with him were enough to occupy his cunning conscious. Though whatever fragment of diluted respect he might have held for Amias in the prior moment was abolished with an eye-roll at the deity of love’s chiding over his comment toward Shiloh. “I would be offended, but I don’t regard your span of imagination very highly.”

Cresil was initially content with listening as Lyrssa delicately grasped the reigns of the primary focus for this meeting. If only to shred ideas and interjections apart later. This outwardly quiet and considerate facade was starkly broken as Mejer coughed. Beside him. A gaze that dared to challenge the overall audacity of Mejer’s existence beside him while he sneezed was far more pressing of a matter to Cresil than the entirety of the new world. “The only thing more inconvenient than apologies is illness, it’s a disgustingly mortal predicament,” he replied with a cold drop in tone, finding his gloves today perhaps held a more immediate purpose after all. He would not move Mejer’s chair with his foot. If he acted even with simple physicality, he doubted he would be able to contain a stronger reaction to the presence of filth in the space beside him. And everyone had the gall to suggest he didn’t ever consider others.

Tempering his dismay came at the cost of not dividing his attention to what exactly Amias said or what his icy glare particularly meant, though he assumed he said something easily discardable. Lryssa’s insertions to the conversation filled Cresil in enough on what he had missed, which as he suspected, was not much to mourn hearing straight from Amias’ mouth. The only thing more vexing than illness, though, were the cheap exchanges of eye contact between Lyrssa and Mejer. Even the deity with no concept of the emotional spectrum or love was able to distinguish the disturbing level of internal emotion they seemed to be provoking in one another. Sick.

Having settled for listening until Mejer presented him the direct invitation to speak, he was not so certain Mejer would be pleased with what he in fact did have to add. “I’m sure your judgment, Mejer, will be as insightful as your knowledge of the mortal world is extensive,” he commented with cool sarcasm. “As necessary of a performer you are to a greater balance, the rest of us harmoniously sewing a plan together for you to comfortably critique from a seat of ignorance will do little, if not worse.”

Giving a weighted sigh, balancing thoughts that were more neutral and remarks that were destructive, he miraculously steered himself on course with the conversation more seriously. “In theory, if we were able to identify and isolate a more exact catalyst to the undoing of the former world, it would at least provide a semblance of guidance for maintaining and fostering the growth of the new one. None of us seem to have a concrete grasp on what spurred this abrupt decay, however. So regardless of our approach, it will more than likely be executed blindly and primarily riding on a logical faith that we avoid whatever the first problem was.”

“To satisfy our more hopeful and optimistic idealists,” Cresil said in a vague gesture to Lryssa and Amias, “the end of the former world could also be a part of the cycle we’ve grown reliant on. Things come, things go. That seems to be the way things worked, and quite frankly that would be the most comforting explanation for the world's expiration. Otherwise, potentially on a more cosmic level, we’re in a far more dangerous predicament than previously considered.” Giving a half-hearted shrug to end his deliverance of thought, Cresil wondered which of his proposals were more likely to be true - that this was an overreaction to a process bound to happen, or they had yet to properly react to a concept they were currently blissfully unaware of.

Cresil’s lack of response to Lyrssa’s inquiry of Zephyr was enough of an answer in itself. He didn’t really speak to the other deities unless necessary, or if he was looking to inconvenience one of them through a scheme or deal. He didn’t particularly mind the deity of war, but he also did not care to pay him thoughtful visits or gift him with throwaway conversations.