A dragon flew overhead.

The creature was huge - and despite the fact that Isopia was typically larger than all of those around her, something about being so immense was incredibly satisfying. Her draconian body mirrored the paint markings of her regular form: dark maroonish splatters, one leg soaked by dim saturated colour, and those ghastly death-like markings that lined her face.

At her side, Hubris flew contentedly beside her. Bursts of shock and ice fizzled around him as he played with his new-found abilities.

The two dragons flew overtop of the Falls, making their way with a smooth speed towards the clearing. Their clearing.  

Isopia spotted the dark pair below first but did not alter her path. A flurry of questions came from Hubris' mind as he grasped who was below and what Isopia's reactions to her (/them) were. He could feel how her mind as it immediately moved from Nymeria to her brother, and how rage and grief sprung as if from a guiser just below the surface of her skin. Is it found? Do they know? Does he know? Isopia contemplated silently. Hubris shrugged in response, though he very much doubted that Volterra had found out ... How could he have? Unless her Father might have said something? Or the golden stallion who had watched the boy being buried? But why? To what end? And why send his sister? Nymeria, as far as the draconic pair could tell, had never been to the clearing before. But Volterra had. If this was to be a confrontation about their dead (murdered) child, why not come in person?

The massive maroon and cream form glided over the clearing, made a wide circle, and began to descend.

Briefly the girl had considered just flying away, waiting until Nymeria and her dragon had disappeared, and then returning. But ... finders keepers ... The girl was worried that the dark mare might just decide that she liked Isopia's little clearing and decide to stay. She also considered descending somewhere else and appearing as herself - or as a raven - and hiding her draconian form. But for what? Nothing would be gained, she concluded silently. She was just used to being secretive.

Isopia landed near her hut. Her claws dug into the soft soil - now mostly covered by snow. Her large wings folded neatly against her scaled back, and her golden gaze swung towards Nymeria.

>>Hello<< she trilled towards the black dragon - her throat easily making the draconian word. Her voice was a trill, wobbly at best. Hubris had been teaching her the language of the dragons, but she still found it difficult.

Then she regarded Nymeria. She wanted to let her eyes sweep towards the grave that she had made, but forbid her gaze this motion. If the mare hadn't noticed it, Isopia did not want to draw attention.

"Not many stumble into my clearing .." Isopia began, her voice sterile and distant as ever.  "Were you looking for me? Or did you come here by happenstance?"

Then she fell silent and just waited to see where the conversation would lead.

For a moment Hubris doesn't know what to feel. Should he feel jealousy at the sight of the black moving to roost on his bonded's back? Or should he feel fear - fear that Isopia will decide to crush him beneath her body or her magic. The girl doesn't like to be touched, he knows that (Volterra was the exception that proved the rule, but now he serves only to reinforce it), and yet ... animals don't seem to count. His bonded has always been much more patient, understanding, and willing towards those who do not possess the brains of the equine-ish species.

She allows him to land, shuffling her massive wings slightly to give him purchase upon her scaled back.

Delighted, Hubris trills happily and leaps into the air to sit next to the black. The bronze dragon cares very little about status or rank (though perhaps that's only because it's something he and his bonded have never had to - and will never have to - struggle against), and so he greets Lilómiel with an open and genuine trill of delight.

Isopia was numb to this exchange, her golden eyes focused steadily upon Nymeria. The girl was like a black canvas - albeit a dark one - and Isopia found her surprisingly hard to read. Even when she made obvious movements, such as flicking her ears backwards, the demigoddess couldn't quite place what information that was meant to confer. Where her vast mind usually filled in deduction assumptions about those she met, the space for Nymeria was blank inside of her mind. It unsettled her slightly.

Isopia's quad horned skull dipped slightly in acknowledgement.

"My clearing is here." She said, her tone slightly dull with the obviousness of her words. "Most know that I live somewhere around this area. Few are quite so diligent as to actually locate it." Isopia's tone remained neutral despite the challenging structure of her words. Nymeria had done nothing wrong, there was no keep out sign (should she make one?), and though she had made this clearing her own, she supposed that nothing in the Hidden Falls could properly be said to be off limits.

Are you a dragon or a horse? Isopia, never one to mind a sudden change in topic, considered this question carefully. She wasn't quite sure what Nymeria was asking her. Was she asking if she was only the illusion of a dragon? Was the question meant to hint towards her draconic abilities? I can fly, and have all the strength of a dragon, she might have answered, though she couldn't breathe fire or do anything like that. But ... was that what she was being asked?

"When I was born, I was as you've seen me before. I've only recently begun to transform into this, though I'm not confident whether the ability is a new one, or if it was innate but latent inside of me." She considered the question some more. "My Father, well-" She gave a non-committal shrug, and then for a moment paused. Isopia couldn't remember if Nymeria knew or not. Her mind began to whirl in the milliseconds that were passing. Wouldn't Volterra have told her? Or did he think so little of her that he hadn't even mentioned their relationship, friendship or otherwise (if Isopia was being more charitable she might have concluded that Volterra was being respectful of her privacy, had he kept the information from his sister. But charity was too far from her mind, at least as it was directed towards Volterra).

Quickly she continued.

"My mother was decidedly equine though. She had a dragon, but I'm sure that she was not one herself."

Nymeria doesn't respond or ask for clarification, and so the earthen girl assumes that she does know Isopia's heritage. But ... if she did, why the question about being a dragon? Unless perhaps the real question was something about whether or not her Father could have procreated with a dragon...?

Isopia didn't understand. And that made her uneasy. It didn't help that Nymeria was sparse with her words, and yet the things she said felt weighty and unbalanced in Isopia's mind. The skull-faced mare (which one? me, or her?) hadn't even said hello (neither did I), she just began speaking. Her posture indicated that she wasn't on her way out, but Isopia wasn't entirely sure what it was that she intended to do here. And in that moment, the demigoddess was rather glad that she was still cloaked in formidable and daunting dragon scales.

To Isopia, the smile that parts Nymeria's lips is just that, a smile. She reads nothing into it, just as she fails to read anything into Nymeria's actions. The girl is a blank canvas ... and yet oddly, despite the obvious similarities to her brother, Isopia does not see Volterra when she looks at his sister. For that, she is thankful.

You'd be surprised at the secrets loved ones keep

Again the urge to allow her golden gaze dart towards the grave roared in her mind. She steadies it, and her wide eyes merely blink mildly. Inside however, her stomach feels like ice.

Does she know? Isopia wonders again. The rational part of her mind wants to disagree that the statement could have been about her, for she doesn't love Volterra. She hates him, is disgusted by him. Tearing him apart would be too good for him, would require too much effort on her part. Would show that she cared enough to destroy him. No. He was nothing to her now, nothing at all-

-but of course that wasn't true in the slightest, and couldn't be farther from what was.

But you can't know that- She concluded, blinking once more. Even if Nymeria somehow knew about ... the baby, she couldn't know Isopia's feelings about Volterra. Could she? Suddenly the girl's mind tensed. Was it possible that Nymeria could read her mind? Such a magic was certainly possible. Would she even know if she had? The thought sent icicles through her body, and her clawed feet seemed to sink deeper into the snow with the weight of the implications.

Only time would tell.

"I suppose." Isopia offers mildly, her large slopping shoulders rising and falling with a shrug again. On her back she can feel eight sets of claws on her spine and it tickles mildly. But like all bodily distractions, her massive mind tunes it out. Hubris whistled a long and low note to his black counter-part. He isn't sure if he's supposed to say anything about the red and gold cousins that Lilómiel surely knew about, and his bonded's interactions with them, and so he merely wrings his clawed hands slightly, also shrugging towards Isopia and Nymeria, as if suggesting that he doesn't know what to make of them together.  

Little raven hardly seems to suit you-

So you don't know about me. He didn't tell you.. Surely if Nymeria had spoken to Volterra about Isopia, she would know the origin of her nickname. Would know why she had been so labeled by Nymeria's counterpart. Briefly Isopia considered changing into a raven to demonstrate why the name was perhaps more apt that Nym had believed, but the two dragons on her back would make such a shift difficult. That, and if Nymeria didn't know ... why tell her?

Isopia listened impassively as she was re-named by this dark mare. She didn't mind, of course. Since she so greedily kept her name (more or less) to herself, the onus was often on others to figure out something to call her. She passed no judgement on the names they thought of - though as Nym pointed out, the sounds that left her lips seemingly echoed a garburator, but Iso kept silent.  Though given that there was no translation offered, Isopia wondered just what the words might actually mean. Insults didn't work well on the demigoddess, her mind was far too distant and sterile to take any real offence, but it did make her wonder just the same.

"I am also called The Mountain that Knows, if that is still too much of a mouthful." She offered casually, shrugging her draconian shoulders as she mentioned her title. Horses she hadn't even met knew of her new epithet, and so it wouldn't have surprised her if this information was not knew to Nymeria. Unlike her real name, she did not keep her LT hidden.

... Who gave you the name kis holló anyways

Isopia blinked, her mind whirling with theories beneath her mask of neutrality.

Don't you know? She wondered, you must know... She hadn't heard anyone else speak the Hungarian dialect that Volterra did. It wouldn't be surprising to learn that there were others in Helovia who spoke it ... but if he did, surely Nymeria did as well.

You know who did Her mind thought slyly, and then began to wonder why the dark mare was even asking.

Isopia, who had become quite the skilled liar, if not still an inept manipulator (as her last encounter with Volterra displayed), because speaking after only a pause, the words flowing loosely and without any of the pent-up bitterness that still wracked her chest at the thought of the ruby-eyed stallion. "Your brother. The first time we met. I ... did not look like this. The name was more fitting, then. " Actually, all of that was true. She left it vague just how long ago that encounter had been, unsure as to whether it would be better for Nymeria to think that they had only met once or twice, or whether their (former) long-standing friendship would be a benefit. Given that Isopia was sure Nymeria was asking questions she already knew  the answers to, she was hesitant to give out more information than what was strictly required.

But that was her M.O all over, and so she didn't think it would seem out of character.

[Geeze, what asshole replies so quickly >.> It's almost like it was too good not to reply to! ]

Isopia nodded easily enough. The first time we met.. certainly lent itself to assumptions of further meetings, and part of her - the jealous side of herself which almost never made its way to the surface - wanted Nymeria to know that there had been more than one meeting. Perhaps it was because Isopia felt so rejected by Volterra as a lover. At first, she had perhaps been insulted by the fact that Volterra had shared nothing of his 'friendship' with his sister, but now? Now Nymeria was just another from who Volterra had withheld something. Would Isopia feel satisfaction by dangling the possibility of multiple meetings with the ruby-eyed stallion over Nymeria? She didn't know. Cattiness was not normally something Isopia was drawn too - indeed she likely wasn't even aware she was doing it.

And yet ... Part of her so badly wanted to rub it in. Oh you didn't know? We go way back. Surprised he didn't mention me, me being a big important demigoddess and all that. I suppose you just weren't worth telling, just the way I wasn't worth-

But even her mind, vast and articulate as it was, couldn't further that intangible thought. That truth was still blocked from her conscious mind. She still couldn't cope with what had happened.

And so, any bitchiness on Isopia's part died with that unthought-parable in her mind.

If Isopia and Nymeria were more honest with one another, they might have been easy allies. But unsolicited honesty was neither of their strengths.

"I think-" Isopia paused, her draconian head tilting slightly.

What did she think?

Oh, on top she hated him, thought him stupid and ignorant, and a fool. But even as emotionally clouded as her judgement was, she could at least recognize it for what it was. He had wounded her, and she was healing. Would she always hate him? No-, her mind immediately answered. The trickle of love that still flowed through her veins assured her that she wouldn't. Besides,  Nymeria's question had specifically been What did you think... Isopia tried to think, but found that early infatuation seemed to cloud her judgement of the stallion from the beginning. Over and over her mind returned not to objective considerations of Volterra, but of their shoulders pressed together when they made her hottub. Of her body falling on top of his, urging him to rise the day of the wildfire, her instant jealousy at the sight of Verzes circling Mirabella, of (flashes of her body slipping into equine form, draped over him. Sliding down his crest. Finding herself near him. Find him near her. Finding-).

Isopia blinked.

"I thought he wasn't the brightest." She replied truthfully, recalling his failure to adequately answer her questions about Verzes name, and how he had missed every single subtle signal she had tried to send him, both positive and negative. "But that he was strong. His magic comes from my father I think," (Why was that relevant?) "and I suppose he uses it well enough." Here, she thought of him fighting the Riftian Gods, but also assisting with her hottub.

Isopia leveled her draconian golden stare at Nymeria now. It was as close to something like vulnerability as Isopia could get. "But I think he doesn't know what he wants. He thinks with the wrong head too much of the time, natural impulses or no. I met children he didn't even know he had -" Her head shook as she briefly wished she could just shove her thoughts into Nymeria's mind.

His sexual cravings are natural, but to give into them endlessly ... I told him once that was alright, but he's no hedonist, is he? He has goals. And he is ruining his chances of achieving them by acting like a child. If she was omniscient, she might have thought, He could have had you and I, incomparable and indomitable queens by his side. Now he only his one night stands and a plethora of babies.

"-he might be a stallion, but a boy's way of thinking is deciding his future."

It no longer felt right to feel powerful in the body she currently wore. Because she hadn't been - not in the way that had mattered most. She had been conquered, and that had been that.

Exhaling, Isopia turned her long scaled neck towards the dragons on her back. She trilled gently to them, and Hubris breathed a distracted breath of sparks and jumped into the air, motioning for the black to follow. As they left her, Isopia took a step forward, and as she did so, scales moulded into maroon and cream flesh, and her limbs dwindled in size. She was still taller than Nymeria even as horse, but perhaps the distance between them was muted now by their nearly reciprocal appearance.

Isopia's head tilted slightly, genuinely surprised to hear Nymeria beginning by talking about her family. Perhaps it was because Isopia expected so much of Nymeria to closely match her own traits, and the Mountain could scarcely imagine more than a handful of scenarios which would require talking about Kahlua. That, and the fact that she couldn't remember Volterra talking about his mother ever. Still, surprise for the demigoddess was a far away thing, and her face barely moved as Nymeria began.

"Why did she think that?" Isopia interrupted, ears forward and a curious intellectual interest obvious on her deathly features. "Because you were siblings, you were supposed to work together?" She continued, trying to parse out the reasoning. It seemed strange. After all, her parents couldn't possibly have predicted twins (could they?), and so it was mere happenstance that there were two, rather than one. So why should that coincidence yield this obligation of the dark boy and girl to work together? To be together? "Why wasn't it the case? You seem more than capable of being the brains, and he is nothing if not strong? Could you not temper him?" Though Isopia herself had learned that intellect was not enough to restrain the beast that Volterra had become.  Sex wasn't even a restraint, at least, not wielded by one mare alone (no, just not you. you were not good enough-), but that was surely not a weapon Nymeria was even capable of wielding against him, as they were siblings. Or at least, Isopia naively thought. "Or was it he, who couldn't match you?" Though Isopia doubted this was the case, for balance she offered it nonetheless.

Iso's quad horned skull bobbed in agreement. Both Kid and Zhu had seemed ... without guidance, as Nym has phrased it. Zhu seemed entirely reliant on Sikeax, and Kid? Kid seemed reliant on no one, but the girl had thought that a front. Almost as if Kid was subconsciously trying to make up for his lack of paternal guidance in all that he did.

Her dark lips opened to ask why it was a disaster, but Nymeria had already answered: He refuses to recognize his mistakes. Iso's lips closed, and again her skull bobbed in agreement. "I would bet that he has more mistakes than he's even aware of." She muttered as her eyes watched Nymeria look away. And Iso knew that bet to be true, if for no other reason than one of those mistakes lay dormant beneath the earth just a few feet away, providing nourishment to the worms and simultaneously eating away at her soul and her sanity. Though she didn't think her statement would seem overly prophetic or strange. If both Nymeria and Isopia had found out about Volterra's children before he had, chances were there were many more mistakes at hand, and not just murdered children.

"Why is he like that?"

She had almost said this; why is he like this, but that would have been too close to the present. 'That' put some distance between Isopia and the stallion, despite the utter lack of it that her mind constantly forced upon her. "When we were younger-" Surely Nymeria had gleamed they knew each other as children. She wasn't revealing too much.."-he had ambitions he spoke of. But this need to conquer? I assume that is how so many children already bear his likeness. The mothers are a type of conquest-" In a very real sense, her mind was speaking totally separate from her body now. For inside, it took almost every ounce of strength that she had not to let her voice waver. To hold her skin still so that it would not twitch with revulsion. She forced her hooves to remain immobile, fought the urge to even shift her position and give away any indication of her discomfort. All the while inside, her soul was screaming, for she had just voiced part of the fractured truth that she never wanted to encounter.

She was just another conquest, and she hadn't even known it.

"-but why has he no restraint? Surely he's at least clever enough to know that such recklessness leads away from the path that he seeks?" Then Isopia tried to tie the idea back to something Nymeria had said, so that it would appear as though her question stemmed from Nym's offerings, rather than the depths of her own depleted heart. "The path you were meant to walk together?"

The gap between them widened.

It was perhaps one thing - maybe even the only thing - that she and her father likely agreed about. Blood was irrelevant. It was why she didn't really speak (or think) about her mother, why her godly lineage seemed inconsequential. It was mere happenstance that she was born. There was nothing about her family in the way of pride, that ought to trickle down to her. She hadn't earned her blood, hadn't won it. It had merely be given, if that was even the right word, which now that she was thinking about it, it wasn't. She was a combination of DNA, or events and doings that occurred long before she was more than just a jumble of cells.

Why on earth should any of that matter?

If Volterra had shown her anything, it was how little blood mattered. Look at his father-less offspring, for example. He had created them by doing nothing more than giving into the wants of his flesh. It took only a few twitches of various muscles and voila. Life. It carried his blood, and yet he didn't know about it.

How could blood be everything, when it was so easy to come by?

Her mind quickly associated her current line of thinking with Verzes. Had that younger-Volterra only named the dragon because of his colour and because of the meaningless insistence of his mother?

Iso's ears flicked backwards slightly. So Nymeria too had been born for a purpose, just as she had.

I were raised to believe family comes before everything else.

At this, Isopia openly snorted. The sound might have indicated sarcastic amusement - and likely that's what the girl had intended - both none of that wicked glee that should have been in her gaze, made it there. Instead her eyes were still hard round circles of gold. Maybe Volterra put making family before everything else. That he was too stupid to realize that his acts of fuckery had family-related consequences was beginning to bother her more and more. Again, she stifled the urge to gaze towards the grave.

Did it even cross your mind that you put life inside of me? Were you too dull to think about it? Or was your dick attention grabbed so quickly that you just forgot?

What Nymeria says next does not surprise her in the least. She might have already guessed that about Volterra, and hearing that Nymeria was the same is only slightly elucidating. The Mountain rather thought Nymeria would only admit defeat if she was playing possum.  

In many ways he's an... animal. He's not like you and I, tükör arca-

Now it's Isopia's turn to feel unduly stung by her words. Isopia knew that Volterra was not like her ... but she was still grappling with that realization. She had seen him through rose-coloured glasses, or perhaps somewhere in her naive mind she had thought that she might be the one to change him. Or that possibly he would change her. In a very clear way, he had. Just not in the way she might have thought. And certainly not in the way that she had wanted. It was also impossible to hear the hungarian dialect from Nymeria's lips and not think of Volterra. They used different words of course, different names for the strange tribrid, but it didn't matter. It was him all over.

He only thinks with his dick.

The bluntness but apt truth of this snapped Isopia out of the cold recoil her mind had been experiencing, and for once she actually did smile. Her nostrils flared as she exhaled a breath of agreement.  

"And do you still care of family now that you see how little it must mean to him? Will you try and redirect which organs guide his decisions?  Or are you now alone in your mother's destiny?"

Part of her assumed Nymeria still held onto her familial values, and that assumption tugged slightly at Isopia's soul, suggesting that she ought to tell the dark mare about the dead body only feet away. It would have been her nephew. Does she not have a right to know? But another stronger part of Isopia answered deftly, No. No one has a right. And then, from another sullen corner of her mind, She would then know that I was another conquest. That I was stupid enough to allow him to-

But even this monologue couldn't be continued. It made warm sensations writhe within Isopia, sensations that she could no longer bear despite how pleasant they might initially seem, for they always brought her back to those moments on the mountain, and the fall that came after.

Isopia, who was certainly no where near as skilled as Nymeria at reading another's subtle emotional states, did not notice how the mare seemed to dip inside of herself to think, didn't notice the slight twinge of potential disapproval, or the way she 'came back out' as Isopia smiled. The girl saw Nymeria, but she failed to aptly read her.

Instead, she merely waited silently, large golden eyes patiently regarding the mare.

..he will pursue our mother's goals as he was bred and raised to. "Will he?" Isopia mused, almost rhetorically. The demigoddess very much doubted that fate would be strong enough to steer Volterra back on course. He wasn't just a little ways off of the path, he was over the river and through the woods. It would take more than the subtle cunning ways of fate to draw him back. Or so she thought, shrugging to herself. 

I'm not his keeper. I think your mother would disagree, Isopia continued to muse silently to herself. It was not out of courtesy or respect for Nymeria that Isopia kept these thoughts to herself. It was not some bizarre budding friendship between the two that forced her lips to be still. Moreso, it was the fact that these thoughts were not helpful or informative in anyway. Her opinions ... why should they matter to Nymeria, especially unbidden? 

So she remained silent a while longer. 

However as the conversation shifted to Isopia for a moment, the demigoddess's eyes regained some intelligent light, for now it seemed she was being asked to do something more than just listen and observe the dark mare's tales. You are different than anyone I've ever met. Isopia's quad-horned skull nodded in agreement. This was something she had heard often. It was probably the most permanent adjective others ascribed to her, and it had been affixed to her identity since the day she was born. Sometimes it was an insult, other times an observation, and rarely, a compliment. She thought that form Nymeria it might have been the latter, but wasn't bothered to know that she could be wrong.

Can he be redeemed, or is he best left behind? Immediately, "I don't think those are your only options." Isopia said, her honed academic mind immediately finding logical fault in what the mare had said. But then instantly she realized that Nymeria would know that. So was the suggestion that those were the two options that Nymeria had decided upon?

Isopia took a breath, then allowed her mind to fall into itself.

What do I think?

Isopia was more than aware of her inner ignorance and wishful thinking on the subject. She often found some deep hidden part of herself fantasizing about Volterra arriving in her clearing, braying apologies and indicating that he had smartened the fuck up. But these lingering thoughts always left her feeling empty and even more used than before. It was as Nym had said: Volterra didn't acknowledge his mistakes. Likely not because he was too pig-headed to, but because he didn't see them as mistakes.

Her mind continued.

Nym had said that she couldn't force him to be something he wasn't. But was this who he was? Isopia didn't know. She had seen glimpses of altruism in him, of courage and cunning. She thought of the figurines he had made for her, and even though rage had nearly obscured the rationality of her mind that day, she had noticed the craftsmanship, the hours of work which had gone into them. It wasn't the gesture of a boy who had carelessly and lazily picked roses from the neighbors garden and offered them as a thoughtful bouquet. No, this was something he had planned. And he had been so careful and diligent when building her hot-tub. He had been so much more than the sex-crazed idiot that she'd seen him to be lately. 

What had fractured his need such that only feasting on flesh satisfied him?

Isopia's mind was strained between the part of her that wanted a way to redeem Volterra, and the part of her that would inevitably feel bitter if he was. Because every fantasy of him showing up in her clearing had ended with her turning him away. Too late.

Even if she could find a path of redemption for Volterra to walk, it would be too late for that path to lead him back to her.

So why bother?

"It's up to him to figure out on top of which head he wishes to wear a crown." Isopia said after a moment, her golden eyes revealing some of the hopelessness that she felt. "Either way, I think he'll leave many graves in his wake-" Graves of his opponents, and of the children that never were. "-don't be one of them." She finished. Isopia herself didn't know whether this prophetic warning was merely the conclusion of her thought, or an actual plea to the mare. 

Maybe both. But did it really matter?

"You are different as well." Isopia offered thoughtfully, something like genuine appreciation cutting through her academic tone. "Maybe it isn't for you to redeem or abandon your brother. Maybe it is he who needs to catch up to you."

Another academic shrug from the demi-goddess. "Most of us will end up in the earth at some point-" She began, careful not to exclude the possibility of being evaporated or burned to a crisp in death. Isopia, despite her godly appearance, wealth of magic and gifts in life, still hadn't grasped the notion that perhaps not everything which was uttered imprecisely needed to be corrected. The amendment rolled of Isopia's tongue as naturally and unconsciously as her breathing. "I only meant that there was no need to hasten it."

If I may ask, friend…

Isopia's features remain the same, but inside she wilts slightly. Don't do that.. She silently admonishes. Wasn't everything going perfectly well? What was the purpose of ascribing a label to their relationship? And were they evenly properly friends? Isopia's interior bristling continued. She didn't want the obligation of friendship, but already she felt as though its tether had been placed around her neck. She thought back to her youth - to Alysanne - who said  that she made friends with almost everyone. Isopia had asked her then if she really had the jurisdiction to go around forging relationships on those who didn't want them ... and Aly had said that friendships did not need to be reciprocal.

But if they did not ... why not leave it unsaid?

Isopia shifted her weight, and as she did so, the bits of grass that had begun weaving their way up her forelegs fell off.

"It's pointless." She answered flatly, though there was some humour in her golden gaze. Surely Archibald and Kaj, and very likely her Father as well, did not feel the same. "The God's rarely have a much better idea of what is going on than we do." This had been confirmed in her mind on more than one occasion. Hadn't she and Mesec decided that the demi-gods were merely the by-product of sexual need? Isopia certainly didn't believe that it was balance anymore. "My position consists of summoning the God of the Earth, having that meeting interrupted by Archibald or Kaj - or whoever is around who feels compelled by the prestige of standing before a God, and then there's a lot of pointless chatter. Queries about the future go entirely unanswered in any meaningful way, sometimes there's praise for how the herd is doing, sometimes commentary about what could be done better." A gentle scowl had worked its way onto Isopia's death-marked features as she spoke.

Clearly, she was not impressed wither her job description.

"It is through forced obligation that I keep this position." She concluded mildly with another academic shrug of her large shoulders. "But I wouldn't wish this task on anyone. Besides, you needn't hold this position to speak to the Gods." She thought of the other Gods - her family, in all actuality - with something like distant contempt, save for the Goddess. Of all, it was the murderer of so many, the one who had truly heralded Isopia into this world, who held her respect.

"And you? Were you given a job by Knox?" She mused with half interest, realizing that she didn't know.