Subject: IC: Performances
Posted on: 2020-09-13 11:48:56 UTC

A god, even a speedster god, can always be fashionably late.

El-Ahrairah declined to use his powers for this, though. Instead he simply sauntered into the Arboretum in a manner that implied "saunter" ought best be followed by "vaguely downwards". His boots crunched on the occasional dry, fallen leaf. His long, rangy limbs swung with a languid grace. And the silver ferrule of his swagger stick klik, klik, klik-ed along the ground, the four-four time of it audible even over the noise of his assembled hangers-on as they followed behind him like a carnival procession, or possibly a crusade.

On second thoughts, perhaps he had been using his powers after all.

The rabbit god stopped, holding up his cane as he did so. The followers stopped behind him, though they weren't stood still. Rabbits milled about among the crowds, hopping here and chewing on the Arboretum's lawn there.

"Yavanna!" His voice was electroswing, all brass and artifice. "My comrade in godhood! That it should come to this." He shook his head, amidst booing from the crowd; a tap of the stick silenced them. And how was it tapping with that echoing klik anyway? The ground was grassy and soft with dew. "What was even the cause of this war in Heaven? Rabbits harassing you? Perhaps one of my non-leporine worshippers ate one of your costumes in the mistaken belief it was a helping of broccoli? A hare in your soup, maybe?"

A dutiful laugh from the followers, mob-happy and showing teeth.

"But we know why this truly is, Yavanna. Why this must be." A wave of the cane silenced the crowd. "You know full well that the father of my mortal vessel, for all his noble qualities, has taken umbrage with our godhood. With all us gods. He heeds only his own counsel, and that of those who would enable him. Frith knows he heeds not reason." Another rolling laugh passed through the crowd, fake rabbit ears bobbing in mirth. "He seeks our ends, harvester. An end to divinity. And for all the gifts of the kind old Sun I have been given, I can no more control him than I can the sea. I wonder how your vessel's own father took your ascension? But only briefly, I assure you; Feanorians are beneath my notice."

The cane lashed out at the air, a stave on a blank page. "That it should come to this," El-Ahrairah said again. "That mortal bonds should sunder the unity of the divine. That mortal animus be rewarded so."

El-Ahrairah jerked forward, a lucky follower catching the sheath of his swordstick and nearly swooned from feeling a relic of the gods in her hand. The blade glittered in the light of the Arboretum, dappled leaf shadows dancing across the silver steel.

"I don't want to hurt you, Yavanna," he said, and now his tone was serious and sad. "And I am sorry that now I must."

((Arrives at the RP three weeks late with Starbucks))

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