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throws confetti, hauls out cake

It might be the Year From the Worst Timeline, but I hope you're having a merry day of your birth.

Mary Poppins politely raised a hand, tail folded neatly over his lap and umbrella resting against the side of his chair.

"If we stay too long, we risk becoming no longer interesting to others. What once was magical and mystical will, over time, become dull and normal, so it does make some sense that we... leave before then."

... an appearance by the teenage elf in the stupid hat himself? He's not eavesdropping or anything, but it wouldn't be OOC for him to be overwhelmed by the attention and try to sneak out of the Auditorium.

hS

Yavanna's busy, so I can't really drop him in here, but I felt the hug needed an art moment. :)

hS

She sat with both feet in her chair, shoulders and neck stooped forward, hands clutched in a clawing motion on the table, as though prepared to pounce at a moment's notice. Her head swung slowly from side to side, taking in the faces of those gods present.

"The end must come. But the time before that is where the ending art earned. The end comes, but which end? That is the choice thou all hast to make."

—doctorlit, hoping Tash doesn't sound too much like the Ninth Doctor

Your best bet might actually be to find a badfic that throws Aslan (or "Aslan") OOC, so that the real version only shows up at the very end.

I have no concerns about appropriateness - the whole point of this is to explore what people would do, and this sounds totally in character. I... could potentially volunteer Kaitlyn and Selene for mission purposes, though historically cowriting with me is a bit of a nightmare, so you probably shouldn't take me up on that. :)

hS

That sensation from before, of stories crashing into each other, of bitter meetings and separations. She sensed them still.

"Suvians," she croaked, smoke pouring from her mouth and pooling around her legs. "Wraiths, crossovers." She spread her robe out like wings again, and the smoke billowed upwards and carried her into the air. As the cloud oozed its way down the corridor, Ananke could hear Tash say, "I shall seek out my rightful prey, and I shall take it unto me."

~ ~ ~

Meanwhile, back where Tash had first ascended:

"Hello?" Alfajiri called uncertainly through the door. "Ilcharheen?"

A pause.

"I don't have thumbs."

~ ~ ~

((Thank you, hS! Ananke's words have been majorly helpful here. In fact, I'm debating now: would it be reasonable for Tash to try to worm her way into a Narnia mission with actual agents? I'm mostly worried about Aslan; I know he usually lets agents handle missions on their own, but I'm not sure how laissez-faire he would feel if an avatar of his main enemy stepped out of HQ . . . Or, if you just don't think it's appropriate in general, I'll drop the idea.))

((I am planning on doing a music performance with Tash, but I still need to settle on whether to go with a straight filk, something more abstract, or really risk the biscuit and try to write some original poetry/lyrics. I'll have to mull it over . . . Oh, and don't worry. Alfajiri will get out eventually. No thumbs, but his teeth are evolved to break bones, so generic surface won't be a problem.))

—doctorlit, feeling more direction now

Yavanna looked the blue god up and... well, further up, since he was significantly taller than Yavanna himself, for all that the latter was two years older. It just didn't make...

... ah. Yavanna threw a look at his oldest sister, who had returned to practicing her scowl. "That's why Jas' was talking about making her older," he concluded. "Ellimist... I don't think I know the name. You're a god of... growth?" He cocked his head, considering. "No, probably not, with the blue. Age, or something? I don't know, I'm just guessing. This," he waved a hand, and a green aura flickered around his fingers for a moment, "is all very new to me."

"Is that why you were late?" Bella piped up. "Because you shouldn't be late, Tanfin. Hen- the Ellimist wouldn't be late, and he met a creepy old woman."

"You shouldn't call him Tanfin," Jasmine hissed in her best stage whisper. "He's Yavanna now, remember? Respect that."

"Oh, right." Bella bobbed a curtsey that would probably have looked better were she not in a somewhat muddy Sprout uniform. "Sorry, Yavanna." Her brow furrowed for a moment. "Wait - isn't Yavanna a girl?"

"Bel-la!" The whisper was even louder now. "Respect it!"

I'm sure this isn't the first time the girls have run into the concept of names or genders changing; it sounds like the main word that's gotten stuck in their heads is 'respect', without being too clear how you use it.

If later art shows the Ellimist as Adam Driver, you have only yourself to blame. ^_~

hS

Ananke contemplated Tash's face with no discernable emotion. "There are many gods of death," she said, half to herself, "but gods of endings are far rarer. And in this place... walk with me," she said abruptly. "There is much I would say, and time, in this place, presses hard."

She set off at a brisk pace, leaving Tash no choice but to follow. "You are of the Pantheon," Ananke told the vulture-god. "You are here to inspire the mortals of this 'P-P-C' with your song. Whether you inspire them to contemplation, terror, or despair means little to me.

"But they are not yours to take. We do not turn our powers against mortals; they are our charges, not our prey. Gods who turn their backs on this rule come inevitably to a bad end - one more terrible even than the maw of Tash.

"Yet there is other carrion for you here. Search the mind you have inherited - this place is the death of stories. Of," Ananke's lip twitched, "Suvians, and wraiths, and crossovers, and countless others. It is not your usual fare, but if you feel beyond their glowing portals, you will find endings enough to sate even Tash the Inexorable."

I'm currently reading Small Gods, which also dwells heavily on the life-taking effects of deserts.

I've tried to stick to your interpretation here; if I've gone wildly off, let me know and I'll edit it. :) The idea of this Tash as the Death of Stories is really intriguing (and gets around the 'shouldn't you be killing agents?' dilemma). It also leaves you openings for her to go rogue without going on a killing spree, if you choose to take that path.

Canonically, audiences will love anything the gods perform for them. There's at least three gods in the 2014 Pantheon who specialise in despair and darkness, and one who goes full nihilistic 'nothing means anything'; they still cheer afterwards. So if you feel like writing a concert/performance, feel free to take it anywhere you want without worrying about traumatising the agents. :)

Ananke has a little time to walk if Tash has more to say. I promise she won't bite her head off. ;)

hS

"Would you ask if you can 'not be' a cat? Or 'not be' a kind, or generous, or bold person?" Ananke spread her hands again. "This is your nature - you know this in your hearts to be true. All I have done is reveal it to you."

Her expression shifted, beseeching. "I beg you, children - do not view this as a sacrifice. You will do glorious things, beyond the power of mortals - and when to their eyes you die, you know that you will merely depart for a time, to return once again.

All the WikDiv gods know that they are gods. Not 'have been given the power of' or any such: they are gods. Even if they don't want to be. I also don't remember any of them getting particularly angsty about the two-year thing, at least until it was a lot closer.

I know what you two are doing. :P I'm not going to say you can't play that card, but I'd ask that you save it for the last days of the month (in-universe). The revocation of godhood will involve personal visits by Ananke, so you could even use it there if you so chose.

hS

Another year around the sun gone (and what an interesting one, huh?). It does mean however that I am now (unfortunately) closer to Thirty than Twenty. Oh well, some things can't be changed.

Nova

He felt vaguely that there should have been sparks or a thunderclap or something to mark a fateful meeting of the gods, but in most respects it was a very normal handshake. Huh.

"I'm the Ellimist, but I was Henry before Ananke came and found me," he said. No need to respond directly to the Kylo Ren comment. "You're Tanfin? Er, were Tanfin?"

Yes. Yes I did.

... Yeah, I stand by that. ^_^

Email ahoy!

~Neshomeh

"Do not diminish your sacrifice." she commanded. "No matter how many years you are giving up, you have still suffered a great loss, and you have every right to feel fear and despair." She turned back to Ananke.

"I am also interested in hearing this. We need to know what sacrifices are necessary, and what we can accomplish. What can be given and what choices we have."

"The shpx you on about? DTB-27," he said, tapping the blaster on his hip. "And the swords're full cortosis weave. Spent my time hunting Sith and Jedi and anyone who made enemies of rich enough people. A couple of obnoxious pop stars shouldn't be an issue."

The surroundings were visible, yet no light source in the sky, no sky at all. It was empty and dry. (Not dry, something inside reminded her, undescribed matter can't be wet or dry, but she ignored that. The point is that it was no lush, green Narnia.) Tash rather liked this place; it was, in many ways, like Tash's own country. Except—

Two thoughts crossed her mind in rapid succession. First, there were many stories in this place, and many connections between beings, and between places. This meant that there were many ends. Many stories and lives that could branch out in many different ways, twisting into and crashing against each other, a true myriad of possibilities, and of possible endings. Souls that could grow in love or in hate with a thousand others in a thousand combinations, to end in sorrowful passings away, or in bitter and violent flashes of destruction. Entire worlds that could wink in or out, or cause others to do the same. Because always, whatever the place or time inhabited, whatever the body born to or the choices made in it, whatever the circumstances forged by one mind or a billion, one thing was always true. One thing can never be prevented. There is always a

T H E
E N D

waiting down the line. The End is irresistible.

But second, Tash could feel that there were many beings here, in many different forms, but none of them had called Tash here, in the manner a certain Tarkaan once had. Instead, the black-clad woman had done so, but she was not Tash's to take. And so, Tash focused her blazing eyes on the woman's blue ones and asked her:

"Why hath I been brought here? What here art mine to take?" There was a guttural croak to it, even though the voice of a young woman was still audible beneath.

~ ~ ~

((It turns out it's a little difficult to get a feel for a character who gets maybe two thirds of a page of page time and speaks exactly three sentences in canon. This will be a challenge to role-play, but I'll do my best! For now, I'm combining my own view of canon!Tash as a punishment figure who only has agency because he's given the power to act by the Emperor-over-the-Sea (hence Ilcharheen questioning Ananke what her role is), with your vulturine/desert-focused interpretation, which I quite like. (Helps that I'm currently reading a non-fiction book about the Yuma 14, so the desert's power to take life over an extended period is very on my mind.) This led me down the path of a being that can naturally detect endings, both literal and meta-textual, which makes a multi-dimensional, quantumly wonky location like HQ a very interesting place, indeed.))

((I had actually forgotten the fact that Calormenes performed human sacrifices to Tash from my long-ago reading of the series. I'm still not really interested in going there for this, unless some of the other gods' players really want a plotline where they stop the attempt. The fact that, by the time of The Last Battle, most Calormenes didn't even believe in Tash is enough evidence for me to discount their worship as anything Tash himself actually cares about!))

—doctorlit, really good at biting off more than he can chew in RPs, it seems

Lola wore an easy smile, and with a little effort she made it reach her eyes. "Sucks that you're flying solo in this - only reason we're not right alongside your partner in there is that we broke out enough noise-cancelling tech that we technically count as part of the A/V Division. But yeah. One's better than none, and we'll get your partner clear of this."

She gave him a quick once over, leaning back slightly as she did so. Despite her genemods giving her what her fellow Long War vets had termed "Mark 2 Jumpy Legs", she topped out at five foot nothing. Meanwhile, Lorson was well over six feet tall. It was a wonder she didn't get whiplash.

"You bearing up okay, Algie?"

"Canberra carrot."

"Cambridge cabbage.

"So. Shoulda been in ESAS, huh? Guessing you're not hurting for hardware then." She had another look. "Let me guess: DH-17?"

"Lorson. Rho. Crossovers, but I should've been stuck in ESAS." He scowled slightly. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish I had my partner for this one. Good a fighter as you'd ever seen, but he's back in there—" He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "—cheering for his new idol."

"Which, yeah, doesn't sound dangerous. Bunny gods don't. But how many times have you seen a cutesy-poo target who looks like she wouldn't hurt a fly burying a katana in some poor shpxer's chest cavity right up to the hilt? I'm not taking any chances."

Lola walked closer, confident, assured, smiling politely and flashing her DIA patch and ID. "I'm Lola. That's my partner Algie. Got a name you're okay with us knowing?"

"Normally I'd tell you to go shpx yourselves, but this whole thing reeks of Sue and iffn it keeps spreading, whole of HQ could be affected. Last thing I want is a bunch of music-worshipping zombies coming after me 'cause I ain't gonna fall over myself praising a self-styled god." He shifted his weight, dragging his fingers through his hair. "Fine, I'll help you. Who's the other 'god' y'all got so far?"

"At least one other person has been affected that we know of, and probably more. We have yet to establish exactly how many people have been afflicted with these... delusions of divinity."

Algie's back was straight and the grip upon his identity card tightened.

"Cob, you're looking stressed. Want me to take over?" The Commander's voice crackled in his earpiece, subvocalized and out of earshot of the metal-armed man.

"The agreed-upon code, Commander, if you would." Algie had been taught to subvocalize into a throat mic by Lola, though his accent and general stiffness lent his words something of a gravelly, gargling undertone not normally present in his voice.

"Oxford lime."

"Sydney tomato." It was an adaptation of the Undersiders' code for situations in which they found themselves struggling. The speaker said the name of a city from the listener's country of origin and then a coloured object in a traffic light colour scheme to ask how the listener was coping and say how the speaker was in turn.

"On it." Lola cleared her throat. "What my partner's trying to say is that we're looking to cover more ground. We want to find more of the alleged gods and monitor their movements, but there's only two of us working this beat. We went to the concert to see if there was someone who wasn't swayed by the musical stylings of a teenage elf in a stupid hat. We need people like you... and you're the only one we've found so far. We need your help."

((A quick once-over isn't providing somewhere else to easily pop in, so... pull somebody else in, possibly leading to or caused by Divine Power Hijinks? They have to start somewhere, and the only better place I can think of than somewhere with two gods around is somewhere with twelve. :P ))

"Well then, let's think about our partners—I'm sure we'll be bound to run into somebody that way!" He picked a random direction and strode off, kilt swishing around his legs. "Come on!"

...Sooo... Should we find someone else to drag in, or ask if we can hop in elsewhere? :P

"Yeah, no fuvg," he said. "Somebody's either swallowed too much glitter or there's a bigger problem going on here. Y'all see the concert? Weird mass... mind control, or something. They were all convinced the kid was the real deal."

Kord had been silent until now, bouncing in his seat as he listened to the others speak. But now he spoke up. "Isn't there a way for us to not be gods? I mean, I only had, like, another five years or so left, so two isn't that big a deal for me, but what about all the rest of them? Two years is barely anything for a human, and nothing for an Elf..."