Epilogue 2 - Tea Time with White Dove

Being a goddess was interesting. It was like I had [Parallel Thoughts] still, just cranked up to 17. I was doing a thousand things at once, each one with my full attention. I was listening to petitioners around the world, keeping my mango collection fresh and doling out healing to everyone requesting it in my name. I was having a private talk with a young man who seemed like a promising sort, to get a blessing of mine. I was listening in on Iona’s discussion with one of her [Paladins] having a crisis of faith, giving what advice I could. 

“Elaine, grant me peace.” The boy prayed. “I do not request protection from harm, merely enough assistance that I may stand on my feet after. Not a boon, just knowledge. I…”

“...never claimed to be omnipotent. We’re explicitly not omnipotent. We’re powerful, yes. We operate worldwide, yes. We can be quite strong locally. But, and forgive me, I do not mean an insult, your view of the world is quite narrow. A half-decent Immortal can hit quite hard, and I have to make difficult choices. Where do I apply what I have? Tell me where you think I’ve done you wrong, and let me explain what I was thinking.” Iona said to her [Paladin].

I wasn’t the social one, and any of my advice would be like explaining basic arithmetic to a maths professor. I just put a hand on Iona’s shoulder, wordlessly sending her love and support.

It was a little more literal now that we were deities. 

I was flying with Auri over fields of flowers. I was tending the orchards, which was a bit of a mind–fuck. Part of me had to think about growing the trees wrong, just so I’d have some pruning to do. Otherwise, they all turned out exactly identical, perfect copies of the ideal mango tree I had in my mind. It was both uncanny and not - but I enjoyed tending the trees. Some minor imperfections for me to tend to was fine. 

It was a little like making a mess just to clean it up, but I was nearly unlimited in our divine realm. 

Fenrir and I were reading a mystery novel together, puffing on pipes and comparing different herbs. Another part of me was supporting the great war in the heavens, keeping Pallos veiled from the infinite universes that would love to chow down on us, nevermind the entities that lurked in the gaps between dimensions. I was in bed with Iona, our bodies moving in unison.

I was a goddess, with everything that implied.

I was also sitting down with White Dove, seeing if I could mend a bridge. Seeing if it was worth mending the bridge.

We were all together for eternity. It was far too long to bear a grudge, or to have one borne against me.

And if I didn’t succeed today? Why, there was always tomorrow to try again. White Dove//Black Crow was infinite as well, and fortunately the more murderous half had no beef with me. Black Crow took a more philosophical approach. My healing prevented him from catching his prey, but there was always tomorrow to try again. One way or another, the only way he wasn’t getting their soul was if they accepted death, at which point White Dove would get it.

We met in my divine realm, in an immaculate gazebo beautifully furnished to my taste. A lot could be divined about a deity’s thoughts by how they arranged their realm. Some went for all golden temples, worshippers singing their praise and sitting on a throne like they were a [God-King]. Some went for dark aesthetics. I had some educated guesses which gods had been dragons by the absurd piles of gold and valuables they slept on. And so on and so forth. 

Fenrir’s realm had a perpetual dark and stormy night, for example.

I went with more nature themes. The gazebo was wood and marble, every inch carved with delicate designs. A light breeze whispered through the swaying flowers, and the sun was at the perfect spot. 

The table had three places set. One for myself, one for White Dove, and a third for any guest that might drop by. Hospitality was but a thought. A wide selection of teas were along the wall, a few of them genuine offerings from the mortal world but most of them divine. There was no difference between the two, save that some gave more credence to one than the other.

Time used to be far fuzzier of a concept than it was now. The divine realms were semi-locked to Pallos time, and the God of Timekeeping had fixed the great question of ‘what time is it?’ in the divine realm. Barely known on Pallos, but we were a big fan of the dude up here.

Being on time was again a matter of will. With the ability to go anywhere with a thought, it almost took effort to be early or late. It was no surprise that White Dove ‘asked’ to materialize in my realm at exactly the time we agreed on, and it was but a thought to materialize myself yet again in the gazebo with her.

She was both a bird and wasn’t. Sitting in the chair and perched on the table. A contradiction, a power, a different entity even among the divine.

After all, when gods died, Black Crow harvested their souls all the same.

“White Dove. Thank you for meeting with me. Can I offer you some tea? Coffee, hot chocolate?” I smiled at her. “I’ve got some of the tiny marshmallows, I think you’d enjoy them.”

She turned her head and gazed at me with one eye before nodding. Her words were… less, here. Not shaking the firmament of the world like they did on Pallos. I wasn’t sure if it was manners or not, but this was my realm. If she tried, I could simply stabilize the realm and make it not happen.

As a goddess, I was nearly omnipotent in my own realm.

“Elaine. Medicine. Your hospitality is noted and welcome. I will try the hot chocolate. With the little marshmallows. They sound… novel.” She said.

“A good choice.” I agreed.

There were as many ways to get the hot chocolate to White Dove as I could possibly imagine. I chose to stand up and make it myself, a deferential gesture. A way to try and reach out. I made the marshmallows in the shape of a bird in flight, and fixed myself a cup. It was naturally bottomless, no need to refill it. 

It was impossible to tell how White Dove was holding her drink. In her hand, or in a claw? Did she bring it up to her mouth, or dip her beak into it? Both? Neither?

We drank in silence, enjoying the rich flavors before I broached the topic. Naturally, I had Iona whispering advice in my ear.

Being a goddess was awesome.

“Over the years, our relationship was… contentious, to say the least.” I said. “I do not think either of us believes we were wrong, and it is perhaps best to leave the past in the past.”

White Dove didn’t say anything, but didn’t glare, instead choosing to drink. Perfect temperature, and impossible to gain weight? Frankly, it was a miracle that I wasn’t an utter glutton.

Auri was a bit of a glutton. Always something new to eat, with a thousand different variations of taste buds. Burning things was the best, because she could simply conjure up infinite firewood and other things to burn. To say she was having fun was an understatement.

After a moment, Dove nodded at me.

“I have… a number of stories of particularly interesting curses. Stories that you might’ve heard, that you might’ve had access to. The stories of Sisyphus, Tantalus, Prometheus. The Danaïdes, Orestes, Actaeon. The legends of Echo, Cassandra, and Narcissus. Inventive and painful curses, some of which I’ve seen you dole out over the eons, others which might be new to you.”

White Dove put down her hot chocolate, the steam still wafting off the full cup. I’d been quietly refilling it. She tilted her head twice over exactly like a bird.

“Some of them, yes. Others of them, I am not familiar with.”

I grinned as I put my cup down.

“Oooh, do I have a treat for you! Let me start with Sisyphus. Cursed to eternally roll a boulder up a hill, only for the boulder to fall to the bottom every time it neared the top. Indeed, I think it’s one of the most appropriate curses for you to take. See, Sisyphus was the king of Ephyra, and cheated death twice. Now, there isn’t a single story that has all the parts to it, but there are two that have hints and notes. Then again, the song has been sung so many times, I’m sure you’ve heard a thousand variants. Playwrights adding their own inventions, actors forgetting their lines and making up new ones.”

White Dove sipped her drink.

“True.” She admitted. “But never from you. Never directly from the source. There are many twists and takes on the tale, and I’ve never had the chance to ask for your interpretation directly.”

Iona was whispering advice in my ear. It mostly sounded like ‘yeah, she knows it perfectly, but she’s giving you the chance to mend bridges and reach out, take the chance.’

I took in a deep breath. For the first time, once again, I sang the song of rage and anger. I sang the story of men and gods. Of fate and free will, honor and glory.

I sang a song of the ancients in a distant culture, of a world with no Immortals. I sang, not for my life, not for survival, but to carefully pick apart the threads of the tapestry, to help another gain inspiration for those who defied fate in their own way. 

I was the agent of defiance, and the agent of enforcement. I handed mortals the tools needed to change their fate, and I handed the gods clever means of punishing hubris. In a way, the tale was good for me. A new way of understanding the story, new meaning when I was relating to Zeus and Aphrodite more than Helen and Achilles.

For I was the narrator, and this time, I was the goddess. 

White Dove’s face/beak was pure approval as the notes belted out of my throat, as perfect as I could imagine.

“Rage! Sing, Goddess, Achilles’ rage!”

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AN: When I sat down to write this, I was totally expecting to write the opening lines of one of the lesser known mythos.

I read a good amount of mythlogy, but I decided to grab original sources for the various inventive curses. I explicitly didn't mention Circe, because of where she's written.

Then I went to find the original sources, and I was absolutely shocked at what I found.

Almost all of them DON'T have their own story from ancient Greece. They're simply referred to an alluded to in the Iliad and the Odyssey. The story is teased out from how they're referenced in the story - at least, as far as I could tell.

And so, the original source of most of these stories? The OG song that got Elaine out of everything in the first place - the Iliad.

On one hand, I feel like I'm coping out doing it AGAIN.

On the other, it's a beautiful completion of the circle.

Which one is it? Would love to know what you think