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The realm of Cocytus was a cold, dark, barren little island in the midst of a river, which made it quite to the taste of the god-thing that owned it and not at all to the taste of anyone else. Cocytus made certain to meet her guest upon the shore, welcoming the senior deity who was not quite her liege.
"Ereuvir," she said, in a voice reminiscent of things that bubbled in the dark depths of caves. Her rags fluttered as she performed a slow bow. The gray, tattered hood that covered her head served also to conceal her face and the elegant, swollen, contorting blisters that her guests found so strangely unpleasant. Cocytus simply could not understand the universe's lack of appreciate for her beauty and wonders. "Welcome. I have such a thing to give you."
A gift that was not quite a gift. Cocytus owed a debt after all, which was not the sort of thing that Cocytus liked, and recently she had come into possession of something else that she did not like. Cocytus liked suicides, and she liked them to be as self-loathing or as depressive as possible. The particular despair that came from those who had turned violence upon themselves was a vintage sweeter than any Cocytus had ever found, and the rest of the gods were happy to let her collect her little tragedies. Except that one of those tragedies, lately, was proving to be such a thorn.
Well enough, then, that Cocytus was expecting a visitor, and one with very different taste. Debt and thorn could be bundled up together and handed over to Ereuvir, and Cocytus could go back to basking in the soothing misery of her precious island.
"Ereuvir," she said, in a voice reminiscent of things that bubbled in the dark depths of caves. Her rags fluttered as she performed a slow bow. The gray, tattered hood that covered her head served also to conceal her face and the elegant, swollen, contorting blisters that her guests found so strangely unpleasant. Cocytus simply could not understand the universe's lack of appreciate for her beauty and wonders. "Welcome. I have such a thing to give you."
A gift that was not quite a gift. Cocytus owed a debt after all, which was not the sort of thing that Cocytus liked, and recently she had come into possession of something else that she did not like. Cocytus liked suicides, and she liked them to be as self-loathing or as depressive as possible. The particular despair that came from those who had turned violence upon themselves was a vintage sweeter than any Cocytus had ever found, and the rest of the gods were happy to let her collect her little tragedies. Except that one of those tragedies, lately, was proving to be such a thorn.
Well enough, then, that Cocytus was expecting a visitor, and one with very different taste. Debt and thorn could be bundled up together and handed over to Ereuvir, and Cocytus could go back to basking in the soothing misery of her precious island.
