Match of the Millennium

Description: This course provides students with a framework for analyzing world religions. Course material will be augmented with first-hand accounts by influential figures in Shinto religious doctrine. 1.0 Unit, meets in New Zack Island campus, one session only.

[CHEVY]
As sports go, fishing is generally pretty relaxed. Sure, it takes a lot of strength and endurance to reel in a catch, or haul in a net -- but by and large, the most stressful moments are liberally padded with long, long waits. Fishing is as much a test of patience as it is of skill.

And while Chevelle Beaumont has a great deal of patience, even she can get bored from time to time. She's been fishing over on the Moonlight Reef pier for most of the early morning, taking advantage of the cooler temperatures. But while it's been a nice start to the morning, it hasn't been a very productive one -- monotonous enough that the hayseed had drifted off the sleep. The last tug on her line wasn't too long ago, and it had startled her awake.

Since then, she'd set down the rod and jumped to her feet. At the moment, the hydromancer is standing with her eyes half-lidded, her hands curled about shoulder-height. She's dressed in an NFG crewmember's t-shirt -- something -different- to wear for a change -- along with her floppy Cape Hatteras hat and denim short-shorts. Though, it'd be easier to see the ring of water whirling around her like the rings of Saturn. Periodically, she jabs a hand outward like a weak punch; the water responds accordingly, lashing outwards like the crack of a whip to follow the attack, before gushing back into the ever-revolving ring.

Though she's positioned with a view of the Seabreeze Cottages, she isn't -really- paying much mind to her surroundings. Concentrating on a new technique is hard work!

[JUNKO]
'How strange it is,' Suzaku thinks, 'that a god should be filled with such anxiety and doubt.'

And yet, try as she might for the past few days, the kami has been haunted by uncertainty.

She had come on this journey to harden her resolve, following discreetly as the massive cruise ship made its way across the great sea, its passengers oblivious to the threat. At first she had planned merely to sink the entire vessel, blasting its flimsy shell apart and sending all those aboard to a watery demise. Even the unusually hardy members of its crew would have struggled to survive so far from land.

The fury burning within her heart had all but quivered with anticipation at the thought. Destroy them all, it howled! Burn them to ash, drown them, boil the very seas if necessary! The intensity of the hatred she had inherited was often terrifying, threatening to overwhelm her reason at times with the sheer vehemence of its desire.

Yet, when the time came, she had stayed her hand. For what reasons she could not even explain herself at the time, though the source of her disjointed desires was plain enough.

As the inheritor of two very disparate souls the reborn entity often found herself at war with her emotions. The raw seething hatred of the long-sealed divine was by far the most potent, all but drowning out the small voice of the girl-child that had once been its prison. While they lacked the sheer dominating power of the fiery god's wrath the human's pleas for temperance were no less insistent.

Suzaku sighs softly, rubbing at her temple. Her mind felt like two fractured mirrors that had been pieced together into a chaotic semblance of a whole by the hands of a child, shattered fragments jammed together without regard for whether they fit properly. What little of the finished product is actually coherent is obscured by a haze of rage and regret, the individual elements blurring together with streaks of smeared blood left behind by fumbling fingers that were sliced open in their inept efforts.

But, among those messy shards, there were glimpses of certainty to be found. Even shattered into a million disjointed pieces, the unbridled outrage of the bound kami painted a clear enough picture of a thousand year old betrayal. The need for revenge blazed inside of her like a new-born star, at times burning away all other thoughts. As the inheritor of that wounded soul, was it not her duty to see its righteous vengeance carried out?

And so she had trapped the unfortunate mortals on this forgotten sliver of land, proclaiming doom and destiny as befitting a god handing down a divine decree. Yet even as the words flowed from her mouth they did not feel as if they were her own. Was this vitriol even hers or was she merely conveying the lingering phantoms of resentment that churned inside of a gestalt soul like some kind of supernatural cell phone. A question that, after several days of contemplation, she yet lacks an answer to.

Tormented by the inability to divine her own desires, the miko found her mind turning towards the one other person who might yet be willing to speak with her. It was a ludicrous notion, of course. What wisdom could a human girl barely even two decades old offer on this matter? And yet the idea was strangely appealing to her, some blurry part of her chaotic soul nudging her in that direction. If nothing else it might grant her a bit of resolution towards the memories of her past self.

The goddess touches down at the end of the dock, silently alighting upon its wooden tip behind the distracted human. The overwhelming pressure that usually accompanies her presence is subdued, her divinity restrained lest it muddy the waters before a single word can be spoken, the great fiery wings dispersing like wisps of smoke once her feet touch the surface. Suzaku, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that she is Junko now, crosses her arms and watches in silence as the American goes through the motions of her practice.

It would be rude to disturb her during such intense concentration and, despite her declaration that she plans to kill everyone on this island eventually, she has not come to do that yet. There is more than enough time to be patient and wait for Chevy to notice her on her own. Besides, now that she has finally drawn near, she finds it strangely calming to be in the water-bender's presence...

[CHEVY]
It takes a lot of focus to keep the water suspended in mid-air like Chevy is. Water falls, only to get tugged back up again by the whirling momentum and the molecular cohesion of water molecules. The hayseed would never be able to explain -how- she manages such a feat; she can simply state that she -does-. While she may be a ways off from being able to unleash this particular skill in combat, she knows one thing is true: practice makes perfect.

But, even though the particular skills she is practicing are feeling more and more natural, it becomes increasingly hard to overlook the feeling of another body of water having arrived nearby. Junko may not be purely water -- just roughly 60% or so -- but after a few seconds, Chevy begins to feel -something- of her presence.

As her 'gut' feelings call an emergency meeting with her brain, she reasons out that there's no way someone would be able to walk past her on the pier without her noticing. Maintaining the rhythmic tumble-and-spin of the watery loop around her, she pivots to face the shore side of the pier with an amicable expression.

The redhead's eyebrows arch in surprise as she finds no one there.
"Huh."
Her brow creases in confusion as she pivots back to the side.

It's only then that, out of the corner of her eye, she notices a shadow that wasn't there before. She turns to face the new arrival. The ring of water falls, suddenly and abruptly. "Junko!" The surprised look on her face is genuine.

A half-second later, the released water claps loudly against the planks. Water drips down, as Chevy takes two steps back from Junko, raising her hands in defense.

"Wh-when, uh... I mean... How long've you been standin' there?"

Chevy is surprised -- though not out of fear or apprehension. Without that psychic *pressure* forcing her into a heightened state of fight-or-flight, Chevy is... just left to wonder what brought Junko here. And now.

It takes but a moment for Chevy to look the kami's vessel over. To see that she is... not as -fiery- as before, but calm and subdued. And Chevy lets one hand fall to her side, her other hand cupping her chin, as if pressing her fingers into her cheeks is necessary for her to find her words.

"You, uh..." She discreetly clears her throat. "I didn't expect to see ya here, Junko."

A second passes, before the hayseed can tap into her natural wellspring of good cheer.

"You doin' alright?"

A thin smile pulls up the corners of her lips -- tinged with just a tiny dash of anxiety as she questions whether her words might be the trigger for a less-friendly change of heart.

[JUNKO]
Chevy's unexpected visitor remains motionless as the human casts her gaze about, searching for the source of the disturbance. The almost comical reaction when she finally turns around causes one of the miko's eyebrows to raise, the faint hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. Given the various threats she made and her entirely silent arrival, she supposes she can't blame the hayseed for being a little jumpy.

The girl answers the questions with a silent stare for several long uncomfortable seconds, her bright crimson eyes seeming to bring some of that familiar pressure squeezing down as they bore into the American's baby blues. Now that she thinks of it, this is the first time she's gotten a good look at Chevy. When Junko met her the curse had yet to be lifted from her eyes, leaving her with naught but the sound of the American's voice to color her memories. It was only when Chevy called out to her during their encounter on the beach that recognition settled in. Some small part of her fills with a strange warmth to finally be able to behold the visage of this former friend.

With a huff of faux annoyance, the miko finally turns her head to the side, breaking the hold of her intense gaze as her eyelids slide lazily shut.

"Still you cling to that name. I told you already, child. The girl that once inhabited this flesh is no more."

A partial truth though the difference is likely to be a matter of semantics. Junko's soul persists in some form within her, entwined eternally with the remnants of the monster she had trapped within it. Naught but faint memories and vaguely understood emotions bubbling to the surface remain in any meaningful sense. The way she walks, her manner of speech, the idle gestures that she finds her body engaging in - nothing but traces of personality that fill in the gaps of someone without an identity of their own.

"But, I suppose you must call me something and Junko will serve as well as anything."

There is, of course, the obvious alternative by which she had introduced herself before. However the implications of resorting to that moniker might well be enough to sour the somewhat placid mood. If referring to her by a human name makes Chevy more comfortable then it doesn't bother the goddess. After all, she is no more attached to the name Suzaku than Junko. Perhaps even less, considering all that she has learned since her rebirth.

"As for your other questions," she continues, opening her eyes again but keeping her gaze pointedly directed away from the human. A gesture of kindness, perhaps, considering the effect her direct stare seemed to have. "Not long. Perhaps a few minutes. I was curious to see how long it would take for you to notice my presence when I was deliberately concealing it."

The kami's eyes flick sideways briefly, the pitch of her voice shifting into mild amusement as she adds, "I had enough time to think of over a hundred different ways to kill you. You seem strangely relaxed considering your circumstances."

[CHEVY]
The familiar pressure returns, definitively answering the question as to whether Junko has broken free of her master's yoke. And as Chevy witnesses the calm, passive expression give way to the cruel smirk, she too allows her hopeful smile to melt away.

Wearing that mask just doesn't feel right, now.

The girl that once inhabited this flesh is no more.
"Right."
She looks away for a moment, hesitating -- and sighs.
"... I guess you just remind me of her."
Blue eyes turn back to the body of her friend.
"It's hard to let go."

The pressure makes it hard to look -straight- at the miko, even if she does have her eyes closed. But once she turns away, Chevy pushes past that, forcing herself to get a better look at the marionette before her. To see that face she'd come to know in Metro City Park. To watch its strings manipulated a haughty, cruel kami with an ax to grind against humanity.

"Huh. I didn't have the slightest idea," she admits. Chevy's penchant for blurting out her innermost thoughts strikes again.

The trace of amusement drags the Chevy's eyebrows down. She seems... relaxed? Well, she's not lashing out. Or bursting into tears. So that may be an improvement.

So Chevy offers a chuckle, to keep amusement in the air.

"I had good teachers."
A beat.
"And, well, so did Junko. But she didn't get much time for that."

But it seems she withers a bit under even that -partial- gaze; her own lowers to stare at the miko's feet as she actually spends time considering those words.

After a moment, she lifts her eyes up once more.

"Yeah, you -had- the time, but you didn't..." She scratches the side of her temple. "Sure, I mean, you're plenty powerful. But if you kill us then you don't get to watch us 'mortals' wriggle about like worms on a line."

She absent-mindedly nudges her fishing rod with her foot as she takes a step backward. Not far away, a fish flops around within her bucket, gasping for the oxygen it's been denied.

"Just couldn't wait till that 'trial by fire' to see me, huh? Somethin' on your mind?"

Part of her wants to mention that they're doing okay with the trial of sacrifice. But -- now that she's actually -thinking- about her words -- she doesn't want to ruin what little food they -have- now.

[JUNKO]
The initial response seems to take the kami strangely aback. Her eyes widen slightly, a look of momentary surprise lifting her eyebrows.

"Do I...?"

Chevy seems a little to smart to make such an observation if her reasons were as vapid as merely possessing the girl's body. That something other than her appearance might have triggered a familiarity response is genuinely surprising. She knows aggravatingly little about the young priestess whose soul she inherited. There are only flashes of memory, most of which are even further limited by virtue of the girl's blindness.

Of the scant few ghosts of remembrance floating about in her head, one has stood out quite starkly against the others. It had surged forth unbidden when she realized the identity of the hydromancer, startling if only for its clarity compared to the other muddled recollections. Whatever had happened in the past, Chevy had made a strong positive impression.

Yet her reaction upon seeing Junko - or Suzaku perhaps - was one of scorn. A falling out, perhaps? It's worth probing this subject a little further.

However, before the miko can start to delve into the details of her past, Chevy manages to trip over something that ruffles the goddess's feathers. Simmering red hot, her gaze shifts back to looking the American in the eyes, the light-hearted smile fading into a glaring scowl. The human may not have said it plainly but the implication that her righteous fury is nothing more than some twisted storybook monster attempting to scratch a sadistic itch threatens to breach her calm.

Realizing that things could spiral out of control very quickly if she doesn't put a lid on that line of thought, the miko forcefully turns her back on the other woman and instead allows the hapless inhabitants of the inlet's lapping waves suffer the ire of her angry stare. Another pregnant silence lingers in the air and when it is finally broken it is a question that Chevy receives instead of an answer.

"Do you know what a kami -is-, mortal?"

Suddenly restless, Junko starts to pace back and forth at the end of the dock, the old neglected planks creaking as she wanders a small circle. This subject was likely to come up at some point though she would have preferred it do so in a less irritating fashion. And, for some damn reason, she finds herself caring an unusual amount about what this child thinks of her. The familiar anger in her breast churns and howls at the indignity and she has to remind herself that Chevy's perspective on the matter is flawed and uninformed; a matter that demands rectifying.

"And I don't mean the textbook definition," she adds, clearly agitated, waving an arm dismissively at the air as she stalks back and forth. Another quick glare shifts sideways to skewer the water bender accusingly, as if she expected some banal response.

"Do you know what makes a god... divine?"

[CHEVY]
In many cases, Chevy might take the scowl as a sign that she needs to dial things back a bit. But in this case, Miss Beaumont has already come to grips with the terrifying idea that she might be -killed- for what she says.

And that's a step she takes with eyes wide open.

Her bet seems to pay off, as the miko turns her back. Chevy doesn't gloat about it though, holding her position. One thumb hooks into her belt loop; her other hand hangs limply by her side. She's leaving herself wide open for an attack -- and she knows it.

Because, in her heart of hearts, she knows Suzaku wouldn't hesitate to kill her unless there was a damn good reason. Any further action taken to 'make nice' in that regard will just delay the conversation that -needs- to take place.

Does she know what a kami is?
"I don't know much about the 'kami', but..."
Chevy clamps her jaw shut as the miko expresses her disdain for textbooks.
She feels the same, really.

Chevy has time to collect herself as the question is revised and re-asked. After which point, she takes a breath.

"I know I pray to my God every night. Without His guidance, I'da lost my way a long time ago."

She's stating uncontrovertible facts about her own beliefs. Ichika and Buck could easily attest to her observations of faith.

"God is wise beyond our understanding. God is kind enough to help us 'mortals' deal with the big problems. And, God is patient enough to trust us to sort through the rest."

She pauses for a moment, gathering both hands before her waist, and lacing her fingers together.

"I'm just some backwater hick who don't know nothin'. But that's how I'd always figgered gods of other cultures would be too."

She offers a brief smile, afterwards. If there's one thing Chevy -is- good at, it's speaking from the heart. She hopes that the phoenix-kami can understand that.

[JUNKO]
The miko listens with silent patience as Chevy considers and then lays out her answer to the question. To give credit where it is due, it is a better answer than she expected from the young woman though that bar was not particularly high. Her brief interactions with the modern world and its intersections with the spiritual and divine were, to say the least, disappointing. So much ancient wisdom had apparently been lost, tossed aside along with the gods themselves, now little more than footnotes in the pages of history. Science was the dominant religion now, a cold and clinical attempt to categorize reality into neat little boxes with easy to understand labels so that it could be packaged and sold for profit.

A faint twinge of some inscrutable emotion stirs in the girl's chest at the simple declaration of blind faith. Such a simple thing and yet powerful in ways that sometimes took even the gods by surprise. In days of yore Suzaku had been the object of much worship, held aloft as a shining beacon of hope and prosperity. People's eyes would constantly turn skywards in search of a brief glimpse of the spectacular plumage that heralded good fortune in the days ahead, looking to the gods for deliverance from the problems that they themselves often caused.

Junko's frustrated pacing slows for a brief moment, her slender hand shifting slightly to clutch at the robes over her heart. The absence of that praise, that desperate desire for salvation. That was what she was feeling right now. The emptiness left in its stead chewed away at her like a festering wound, once made all the more necrotic by the events that had led her to this point in time.

"A decent answer," Junko says, her tone softer now, "but one that fundamentally misunderstands the question."

The goddess had posed to her a math equation and received an essay in response. Chevy was not wrong, per se, but her answer was to a completely different question. No matter. She had not expected the mortal to be able to give an accurate reply. There are few alive who are not of the divine themselves that know the true nature of the gods.

"Do not concern yourself too deeply with titles and labels. A god is a god, regardless of what culture it hails from or what it is called. It is the intrinsic nature of a divine being that defines it."

A sudden moment of hesitation brings with it another furtive glance. Junko's lips purse together, her brows furrowing as she considers something. Then, without warning, the miko spins on her heel and stalks directly towards Chevy. There is no obvious sign of anger or malice in her expression, no crushing mental pressure or flaring of blazing orange flame to herald the mortal's sudden doom. If anything, Junko seems unsure of herself, pointedly staring at the path before her feet until she stands before the other woman.

The difference in height between the kami and the human becomes somewhat of an issue that almost makes her next action comical. Lifting her head up to look Chevy in the eyes, the girl lifts her hands and gently reaches out to place them on either side of the human's face. The gesture is surprisingly gentle, the warmth that her touch brings pleasantly reminiscent of the caress of the sun against fresh skin on a summer day.

"The gods exist... because of you, mortal."

The corners of the miko's lips turn upwards in a genuine smile that seems almost alien on a face that has only ever shown fury and pain. The pressure of that immense soul comes crashing down upon her once again but unlike the smothering choking miasma that beset her upon the beach, the sensation of Suzaku's presence engulfing her own is more akin to being wrapped in warm snug blanket.

"That powerful uncompromising belief in something greater than yourself. That something that exists beyond your comprehension or control. The desire for a meaning to existence beyond merely survival. To bring order to the uncertainty of chaos. Humanity's collective longing for a light to guide them through the darkness."

Junko stares into her eyes, her voice soft and strangely small. Emotion floods her words as they tumble from her mouth, almost in a frenzy, a strange desperation behind them as if this is the last time that they might ever be spoken aloud before being forgotten completely.

"That is what a god is, Chevy. We are the manifestation of mankind's faith."

[CHEVY]
Chevy frowns, ever so slightly, as her naive answer is shredded by a single remark. Crystallizing these concepts into the discrete words that Suzaku might prefer was certainly not beyond her abilities. But when the asker of the question had already demonstrated a capacity -and- an intent to inflict harm against Coco -- and when she vented -some- of that rage just moments prior, the urge to speak praise to the godly virtues of wisdom and patience was irresistable.

The frown is only momentary though -- quickly replaced by the realization that her answer seems to have pleased the kami nonetheless. Well, if not 'pleased,' then at least pleased her enough to put an end to the frustrated pacing.

Chevy presses her thumbs against one another, turning them pale (even more than usual) in the process. It's one thing to write an essay question for a pop quiz, but with the class being 'eastern Asian religion', the simple farm girl feels out-of-place.

Her eyes widen, slightly, as the miko suddenly stalks towards her. With her feet squarely beneath her shoulders, the Carolinian does not waver from her stance; her cold blue gaze locks tightly onto the crimson orbs peering up at her.

And then... what? Bravery is one thing. But there's nothing in her playbook to deal with a young woman framing hands about her face. An awkward, disbelieving half-smile greets Junko as those really expensive-sounding words warm the air between the two. Mid-morning rays bear down upon her back and the warmth of a little firebird pressing against her from the front make her feel like a panini in a sandwich press.

... It'd be -nice- if she stopped relating everything to food, though.

The words, though... they confuse her even more. She's quiet for a good moment, not quite sure how to square the emotions gushing out with the words she hears.

"Gods... gods like you... are the manif..."

Her brow furrows, as she ceases trying to repeat that word.

"You're tryin' to say that mankind... made -y'all?- I don't understand."

There's a pregnant pause for a moment, as Chevy shakes her head. And then she cracks a smile.

"I mean, if you were hopin' for -me- to give that answer, it warn't gonna happen."

Since Junko is there placing hands on her face, Chevy feels... well, -weird- just holding her hands in front of her. So, instead, she calmly rests her hands upon Junko's shoulders.

"I trust you! I just.. it's just gonna take a minute to get my head wrapped around that."

If Junko lets her, she'll give those shoulders a little squeeze. "Is that what this is about? Somethin' to do with humanity's faith?"

[JUNKO]
"Indeed, you did, mortal!"

The girl's eyes sparkle with a mixture of amusement and what seems to be delight, again presenting Chevy with a brief window into an entirely different reality, one in which the young miko hadn't been ripped apart by torment and guilt. Then again, if the kami's words are true, then there isn't much left of Junko inside of there. Which would make this a perhaps even stranger sight as the avatar of fury that had driven the girl to madness all but gushes like a school girl who has experienced their first crush. Whatever the truth may be, it appears both halves of the goddess are in harmony on this subject.

"Though, 'made' is perhaps a bit misleading in that it implies intent," she adds, filling the brief pause with an extra bit of clarification. "The gods, and most things that your kind might label as supernatural or superstitious myths, emerged from the collective subconscious of mankind's ancient zeitgeist."

The miko's smile widens into a wry grin at Chevy's self-deprecation and she shakes her head gently.

"No... there are few mortals indeed who are privy to the secrets of cosmos. But I was curious to hear your answer."

And more curious still to see how this knowledge might alter the mortal's position on their own spirituality. After all, it is called faith because it must be believed without full understanding. Only the wisest or most foolish of scholars ever dared to delve into that realm of knowledge back when communing directly with such entities was possible. None who gazed into the abyss of truth ever walked away unchanged. It might be considered cruel that she would foist this colossal revelation upon the mortal without warning knowing full well the consequences. But this knowledge is necessary for a proper understanding of further truths that she has yet to reveal.

The touch of hands upon her shoulders comes unexpected. Junko's eyes widen slightly, a soft inhalation whispering through her lips as her body tenses up defensively. Even more surprising is the gentle reassuring squeeze that follows - and the strange sense of deja vu that accompanies it.

"T-that... ah... yes!"

Suddenly releasing her grip on Chevy, the miko pivots on her heel, breaking free of the friendly contact and stalking several paces away. Nothing is said for a few moments of awkward silence, the kami's back remaining turned and her face hidden from view. Her arms cross nonchalantly over her chest once more, but the fingers of one hand idly trace the surface of her shoulder before sliding down into the crook of her elbow.

"Faith...", she mutters, the joviality bleeding out of her with every passing moment. "Everything comes back to faith..."

And the betrayal of it.

"I assume you are... unfamiliar with the legend of Suzaku."

It isn't a question. Chevy's ignorance on Eastern culture and religion has already been professed by her own mouth. That she has thus far shown no indication of having any insight into the nature of one of the most famous Japanese kami to ever exist lends further proof to her claims.

"Listen, then, and learn, mortal. Learn of the past..."

A burst of brilliant orange light sparks between the girl's shoulder blades upon her last words, twin wings of blazing power erupting like flames kindled alight by a pilot light. Suzaku stretches her heavenly appendages wide, beautiful feathers of living scarlet flame adorned by multi-hued flourishes casting a shimmering kaleidoscope on the surface of the water.

So colorful and vibrant is the sight of her radiant plumage that it is nigh on impossible not to notice the obvious blemishes that stain them. Thick dark patches of some form of corruption mar the surface of every one of the goddess's brilliant feathers, somehow clinging to the supernaturally formed flames like mold creeping across the surface of fruit. A familiar greasy sensation fills the air, the very same aura of twisting nausea that writhed across the beach like slimey tendrils. Even reality itself seems somehow stained by the malaise making any attempt to look directly at the dark spots feel as if she is trying to peer through smudged glass.

"...and sins of your forefathers."

[CHEVY]
Sometimes, that's all people want -- arms willing to hold, and an ear willing to listen. Chevy has no way of knowing what a -god- could want, but she has a pretty good sense of what -people- want. And if this god shaped like Junko wants to share something, Miss Beaumont figures that it's the least she can do to just hear her out. And all the better, then, that her offbeat sense of humor seems to get a grin out of her.

... But just as quickly and surprising as the lightheartedness arrives, it's on its way right back out as soon as that f-word is mentioned. Chevy lets her hands fall back to her side, keeping her position so as not to crowd or rush the kami. She can all but -feel- the good cheer evaporating from the miko -- something that causes the cheer to drain from her own expression.

She answers the rhetorical question, just out of the need to be part of the conversation. "I don't know much. There was so many stories out there, I couldn't make hide nor hare out of 'em all." Her lips quirk up in a smile -- even though Junko is turned so as not to see.

And then... wings happen. And Chevy suddenly finds the need to fold her arms, bracing herself from the light, if not necessarily the -heat- that ought to accompany such a fiery display.

For a moment there -- it seemed like the waterbender was making some progress. But once Junko mentions sins of her forefathers, the hayseed's expression darkens.

If there was one thing she -really- didn't like about Junko's initial arrival on the island, it was that the goddess was suggesting the trials weren't even her -own- fault.

Chevy just grunts at that -- not because she -wants- to, but because if she didn't make some noise, it's quite likely she would have blurted out something else. Maybe even a quip about the corruption creeping across those feathers. Junko would have -loved- that.

[JUNKO]
As seems to be a trend in this conversation, there is a long tense pause following Suzaku's inflammatory statement. The goddess closes her eyes, an all too familiar darkness veiling her sight, one which quickly fills with even darker memories. Even fragmented and unclear as those distant events are, the seething hatred inside of her burns with unfaltering purpose, searing away any shred of doubt inside of her like a torch igniting cobwebs.

A steadying breath is taken, long and slow, to stem the tide of fury before it can become an unstoppable tidal wave. Part of her questions why she even bothers to relay the truth to this mortal. What does it matter if she understands the reason for her damnation? The past will not change simply because it is remembered. Some wounds do not heal, no matter how far down the river of time one rows.

The miko's fingers clench, digging so tightly into the loose sleeves of her shirt that her knuckles nearly match the fabric in hue. The desire to destroy fills the kami's chest with an unbearable heat, rising up her throat like boiling bile. But, as before, something forces her to swallow it down. Vague flashes of other memories spill onto the bonfire of hatred like cold water - a gentle touch, a calming voice, words of understanding - things she had long since forgotten existed. It might not change anything but this mortal, this... friend, deserves to know.

Standing at the phoenix's back, Chevy would be privy to little of the internal struggle. The flex of fingers, a calming breath, a slight turn of the head as Suzaku peers back at her over a shoulder with irises ablaze. Oblivious to just how close she stands to the precipice of destruction.

After mulling over her words for a time, Suzaku finally turns, her expression stern but calm. Her hands extend forth and twin pyres of scarlet flame burst to life around them, bright and animated, but without heat. The flickering tongues of the enchanted flame start to stretch and bend, as if pulled towards each other by some unknown force, until they merge into a wide sheet of what appears to be ancient parchment, each end of the rolled up scroll taking shape within the kami's fingers.

"When mankind took its first steps towards the light of civilization it was naught more than savage bands of tribal warriors. Ignorant. Foolish. And concerned with naught but survival."

The surface of the burning 'parchment' shifts as the goddess speaks, simple but beautiful pictures painted by the stroke of ink brushes emerging from the background. A group of humans, naked save for loin cloths, clutching spears and primitive bows take shape one by one. The drawings move as if alive, each new warrior wandering into the mural from the edge of the paper. Now a dozen strong, they turn to face a mighty beast, some manner of wild pig or boar, with great curving tusks. As one the humans charge the animal and lay it low, though only half of them survive the encounter.

"But, as humanity began to grow wise, it started to ask questions about the world in which it lived. Wherefor came the thunder and rain? Why did the moon chase the sun, never to meet in the same sky? What force compelled the wind to blow and the grass to grow tall?"

Each example is met with another elegant bit of artwork that depicts the kami's words, weather patterns and celestial objects rendered in breathtaking detail only to be replaced by stunning figures of ancient legend.

"Thus emerged the gods - answers to those questions derived from widespread belief in some greater truth. The twins Raijin and Fujin. Lady Amaterasu and Lord Tsukuyomi. Mighty Susanoo. Clever Inari. And countless others."

[CHEVY]
There were crosses that Chevy would happily bear for other people -- but she bides her time waiting to hear about these supposed 'sins' that are being placed at her feet. The NFG's 'girl next door' knows that there's a team of people willing to share the burden. But out of all of them -- Chevy's the one that has Suzaku's ear now.

Like it or not, she owes it to -them- to keep her calm as much as she can. She may be frustrated after many conversations with seemingly no progress. Chevy may be slow to anger -- but she knows that her temper can burn just as hot as anyone's. So after she sees Junko's silhouette shudder after that little -start- of an outburst, she chides herself silently, bites back her frustration, takes a step back, and breathes out slowly.

And so, it's a calm face that meets Junko -- a mirror, for all intents and purposes, as the hesitant student listens to and watches the teacher's instructional aids.

The notion of fire etching out a parchment does get her to break into a smile, and even to step closer for a better look at the art. The shade tree mechanic has always been better at visual learning -- and seeing the tales illustrated brings them to life in a new way.

"So that's what you meant when you were talkin' about the gods' manifoldin' mankind's faith, yeah?"

Chevy smiles with understanding, even if her words suggest otherwise.

"It makes sense though. When folks were all brutes and savage and such, they didn't do as well as when they worked together. To them it warn't nothin' different -- so it had to be *gods* that helped 'em be the best they could be..."

Chevy nods slowly; her eyes reflect the shimmering orange and crimson flame. Beautiful artwork -- and almost no chance she'll be able to repeat all those syllables.

"It happened all around the world, didn't it? With different stories, and different gods. The ancient Greeks have Zeus, and Hera, and Aphrodite, and Hades; folks in India got that cool guy with the elephant trunk."

She pauses for a bit. And breaks into a smile.

"Those first two twins were awful handsome, I tell you what. You're good at paintin' a picture!"

[JUNKO]
Chevy's commentary is allowed to fill the lapses in narration without reproach, the kami showing neither approval at her quick uptake on the meaning of the simple story nor displeasure at being interrupted. This presentation is being given for the human's sake so if it is necessary for her to absorb it piecemeal and work through every step verbally then so be it.

The compliment proves to be what catches her off guard. Suzaku's eyes widen slightly as Chevy extols the simple diagrams as works of art, little more than parlor tricks to a god. Her vision goes hazy, flashes of memory rushing out of the fragmented void of her mind. Dirty children dressed in rags watching with rapt attention as flames dance in the darkness, playful puppets putting on a simple show amidst the orange glow of a hasty built bonfire. The tiny mortals gather round the flames, staring with rapt awe like moths gazing into a candle, the unpleasant chill of the evening forgotten for a time.

A smile starts to creep onto the miko's face as pleasant warmth seeps into her being. And then the moment is gone, the illusion of forgotten days vanishing like a puff of smoke. Suzaku blinks sharply, her head twitching as one who caught themselves nearly nodding off into an unexpected nap. The goddess's brows furrow with unexplained anger and her lips press together into a hard thin line as if trying to erase every trace of that ephemeral happiness.

"I did not do it to impress you, mortal."

The words are hard, each syllable bitten off with a sharp edge. Tiny flecks of some black substance swirl amidst the churning maelstrom of flame within the kami's eyes as she glowers up at Chevy, the malice of her overwhelming soul threatening to spill out of those blazing portals and give the hydromancer another dose of what she experienced on the beach.

Once again, Suzaku seems to catch herself at the last moment, forcefully pulling her gaze away. The sensation is like ripping an old sticky bandage off a festering wound. Her nostrils flare with barely restrained anger, the source of which remains a mystery to her captive audience.

"It... was just the most expedient manner of teaching you."

Unwilling to address the matter further, the goddess carries on without offering any explanation that might shed light on her ire.

"Though the gods brought enlightenment upon mankind, so to did they bring new problems. Not all of the beings brought forth by faith were benevolent, nor were they perfect. Though they represented the idealized traits revered by humanity, they also bore many of their flaws. Gods warred with each other, rending reality itself."

The flaming parchment swirls again and new imagery springs forth to illustrate its master's narration. Strange but powerful figures, some human in appearance, with others entirely devoid of mortal traits, spring to life on the surface in a chaotic dance of destruction. Waves of elemental power are hurled back and forth, lightning bolts flashing menacingly across the sky, fireballs exploding with violent force, hurricanes shredding all in their path, while great boulders are flung like comets.

"And from those legendary battles sprang forth monsters of terrible power. Youkai. Yurei. Akuma."

The scene pans down from the heavens to the earth below as literal monsters descend upon a human village. Some of the peasants attempt to stand their ground with pitchforks and sickles while others simply cower as all manner of nightmarish beasts rampage about. But, when it seems as if the helpless farmers will be slaughtered to the last, a horn blares out as dozens of horse-mounted samurai descend upon the demons and drive them back. For a brief moment it seems as if the day has been saved, brave heroes driving away the darkness to protect their wards. But then the samurai turn on the remaining peasants and cut them down, ransacking their homes and bodies as blood seeps into the trampled fields.

Suzaku's eyes close, something like genuine empathy seeping into her voice as it drops to a soft whisper.

"Between the gods and the warlords, the common man found he had little control over his own destiny. Too often the reward for a lifetime of toil and sacrifice was a miserable and meaningless death."

[CHEVY]
Chevy had started to smile. For a flicker, it seemed as if the two were starting to resonate towards mutual compassion and understanding.

That moment is mercilessly ripped away from her in the twitch that follows; a furrowed brown and an incendiary tone frightens Chevy into pressing her palms together and taking a precautionary step backwards. Her heartrate doubles in a sudden adrenaline-fueled spike, fear flickering across her expression as resolve stills her retreat, rooting her back into place.

To Miss Beaumont, the moment seems to last an eternity, long enough for her to examine the minute details of smoldering flames rising from her eyes. And it isn't until a few seconds after Junko pulls her gaze away that Chevy's able to even -start- thinking about what she could have done to evoke such a strong rebuke.

The most expedient manner of teaching you, she says as if Chevy were but a child presented with a picture book. An insult, to put the mortal back into her place. Chevelle's cheeks flush red with shame and frustration, as the soles of her sneakers shift upon the wooden planks of the pier.

The avatar of Suzaku has her attention -- but it is filtered through the veils of fear and, to some degree, anger. Chevy allows her eyes to fall to the new pictures -- but she won't be judging them on their artistic merits, this time.

The host's mood shifts again -- no longer angry, she now exudes compassion and empathy.

Chevy begins to soften, at that. Her lips part -- but this time, she's able to stop the thoughtless words from spilling out. She closes her lips, bowing her head down for a moment, as she thinks about her response a bit more.

Her own voice comes out, barely louder than a whisper.
She trembles, slightly, as she speaks.
"Suzaku-sama..."
She offers the respect reserved for a higher kami, rather than a dear friend.

"I'm sorry for bein' disrespectful. But I need you to know one thing here -- the fact that you could turn me into a puff of smoke with the snap of your finger still has me shakin' in my boots."

She looks up, cautiously, before continuing. "So I'm gonna stumble sometimes, and I'm gonna trip, 'cause I'm scared..." Blue eyes search for the compassion that was shared -- and latch onto it, tightly.

"I'm just... tryin' to wrap my head around all this. I truly do appreciate that you're givin' me this ... chance to talk with you, like we was both people, instead of you bein' the god an' me bein' a burnt slice of toast. So, I hope it's okay for me to ask another dumb question, 'cause I'm still a mite lost."

She dares to offer a half-smile of apology. She may be actively suppressing -most- of her outspoken nature, but the tomboy in her refuses to be shut down completely.

"It sounds to me like you're sayin' that mankind just all got together and started sharin' ghost stories to explain the wind in the trees, and then from that, that's how they wound up with ghosts, vampires, yuukai and yorei an' such. Is... is that what you're sayin'?"

She lowers her eyes for a moment, waiting for the response. But, in deference to Suzaku having her own story to share, she'd be happy to return to the topic afterward.

"... And yeah. That kinda life is tough for us common folk -- folks feel like they're trapped an' cain't do nothin' about it."

She feels -more- than a little empathy for those the subjects of those warlords.

[JUNKO]
Ever since the moment of her awakening, the entity born of the fusion between kami and mortal souls had been filled with an unquenchable molten fury. The very first words to ever pass her lips were accusations and condemnation towards humanity, the god's righteous anger spilling out without need for conscious thought or understanding, a thousand years of malignant hatred that almost had a will of its own. And, rather than attempt to contemplate on the actions that might have driven a divine being to such outright hatred, every single person that she had encountered had shown her naught but contempt and disdain.

They dared to look down upon her - UPON HER! As if she were little more than a mildly irritating insect noisily buzzing around their heads! She could have consumed every single one of them at a whim, reduced them to little more than scorched piles of bones. Yet she restrained herself despite the seething urge to destroy so that she might better understand the world into which she had been born. Perhaps things were different now, if mortals dared to so brazenly defy a god.

Hah!

The only thing different between the years of yore and the modern world was the sheer amount of misery packed together. Humanity had spread and thrived, in one sense, but the problems that had plagued them those many centuries past yet persisted. Mankind was still a bunch of self-centered fools that toiled away for the benefit of aloof masters who viewed them as little more than disposable commodities. Technology may have advanced in ways that seemed inconceivable to the old god but all phones and computers had done was accelerate the speed at which vitriol and stupidity was able to spread.

These creatures were in no position to judge her. Yet judge her they did, sneering down upturned noses as she wandered city streets. Only when the holy flames melted the arrogance from their faces did they show even the slightest bit of remorse. The few followers she had accrued clung to her heels like mangy dogs, the poor and downtrodden who showed her reverence only out of fear and the potential for some sort of hand out. How ironic that they had met their demise as a result of the actions of their fellow man, crushed to death under a mountain of concrete and steel as the Librarium attempted to strike her down.

In the vast shifting array of memories blended from her past lives, only one person that she could actively recall had ever shown the miko even a hint of respect and kindness with no thought for reward. And now that woman stood before her again, once more displaying a level of humility and self-reflection that has thus far been absent from humanity as a whole.

Suzaku's head turns away slightly as something like regret washes over her pale features - and perhaps a hint of shame as well. Save for a singular moment of understandable anger, Chevy has never done anything but try and understand. Even knowing that she could be destroyed at any moment for uttering the wrong words she had stayed and talked, earnestly trying to find some sort of connection that might bridge the gap between them.

"Oh child... if only all of your misbegotten kind possessed such deference and humility, this world would be something truly wondrous..."

But, it is not to be. The world is rotten and festering, humanity's faith in the old magic long since dwindled to superstition and fairytales. That she had been all but forgotten only made the wounds of her betrayal burn all the more intensely.

"Your understanding is a bit primitive," the kami says, her voice soft now, almost gentle. "But it is sufficient to grasp the magnitude of what was done."

Flames swirl as the parchment clears to make way for the next set of teaching images. Ragged starving peasants toil fruitlessly among withered crops. Armies of conscripted farmers clash in violent warfare leaving bodies strewn across empty fields while samurai wearing battered armor and rusted blades shout orders from behind. Fishermen cast out into the sea on rickety boats only to return with nets mostly empty.

"Ravaged by constant war and beset by demons and natural disasters, humanity turned once again to the gods for aid. But the gods were fickle and unmoved by human suffering, embroiled in their own conflicts and politics. As months turned to years and years to decades, mankind's soul began to yearn for salvation - for hope."

Suzaku smiles at the human though it seems forced and weak despite the obvious direction that her story is taking. The colorful artwork swirls again and this time gives way to a majestic fiery red bird, its plumage arrayed with all the hues of the rainbow. The phoenix soars across the skies, particles of sparkling power raining down upon the fallow fields and the empty seas. As if by magic, crops begin to grow tall and full as joyful villagers rush to harvest the fresh food. Sailors haul nets filled to the brim with wide-eyed fish and squirming squid. Suspiciously, there is no sign of the clashing warriors in this montage of divine intervention, the kami's efforts seemingly focused on providing for the basic needs of the common man.

"And so a new god emerged, one who cared deeply for mankind and wished for them to experience naught but happiness and prosperity."

[CHEVY]
Chevy prefers solutions that are direct and straightforward. Cars suit her -- if something's not working right, there are simple procedures to fix it. Nothing in mechanics is really that hard if you can just get enough time to work through a solution. And to her, talking with most people is kind of similar. Some people are easy -- just a simple conversation is all that it takes. Others take a bit more hand-holding and encouragement, to get them to speak to what's -really- bothering them.

And then there are gods like Suzaku, who are not only *difficult*, but could burn you to a crisp for saying the wrong thing. Chevy's attempts to steer the topic back to her one true question have all seemed to result in fits of rage, barely repressed for reasons she's not entirely sure.

What's wrong?
She just wants the answer.
But it seems important for Suzaku to establish the proper context.

Chevy had fallen asleep during 95% of her twelfth-grade history class sessions. But she's pretty sure that falling asleep for Suzaku's could be counter-productive here -- even if she *were* to survive the encounter, she'd be missing out on a valuable opportunity for her and her friends in the NFG.

Which is why she's fallen back upon her simple Southern charm: she genuinely wants to understand what the *actual* grievance Suzaku has against humanity at large -- if not the NFG in particular. So she weathers the barbs flung her way. She buries her frustration at the insults flung towards her kind. Because she wants to learn the truth as Suzaku understands it to be.

And then she can share this with people smarter than her. People who can suss out a solution, perhaps with similar lack of rancor.

Chevy frowns at the tale's demons and natural disasters. And she smiles, as the firebird soars across the sky, bringing happiness and prosperity to the land.

And maybe, just maybe, she's starting to get the answer she'd waited for.
There's a glimmer of hope in Chevy's expression.
She starts to part her lips, to speak...
But she closes her mouth after a second.
Acknowledging it -now-... robs the storyteller of her power.

She changes tack. She responds only to what was -said-, without leaping ahead with what might be a disastrous conclusion if she's mistaken.

Inquisitively, Chevy suggests: "This ... new one's, uh... kinda like the first gods, who saved 'em from fightin' amongst themselves, right? But different, wiser from the knowledge of what came after."

The freckled farm girl offers a tentative smile. She's doing what she can.

[JUNKO]
The attempt at flattery is transparent - insultingly so. But Suzaku does not respond with anger. The human had just admitted to being terrified of setting her off. That she would do her best to sugar-coat every response going forward is hardly surprising. Nor can she blame the girl, not when she herself hardly seems to know what will ignite her own fiery rage. For as powerful as they are, the emotions swirling inside of the miko's head have proven surprisingly difficult to connect with despite knowing the reasons behind them.

However, it is not just that which keeps the kami from lashing out. Without knowing it the mortal's attempt to placate her ego had just hurled the most viscous barb yet straight into the goddess's chest. It takes her a moment to absorb the words and process them, her brain paralyzed briefly as the unintended venom spreads throughout an open festering wound.

"No..."

Suzaku sighs, her shoulders sinking from the weight of remembered folly. If only that claim were true.

"This new god was not wise. If anything, they were the most naive and foolish entity to ever arise from prayers of man. For what else but a fool would place their trust in the good nature of humans?"

The parchment stirs, replaying each of the scenarios recently shown but with new context. The farmers happily harvest their crops, carving abundant rice plants from sodden fields and bundling the stalks for transport. Massive caravans guarded by armored samurai oversee the operation, shepherding the supplies towards large encampments of soldiers. The fishermen likewise offer their bounty to their local warlord and soon the fishing vessels are replaced with warships and troop transports laden with fresh recruits.

The scene shifts once more to the battlefield but this time one side of the conflict is vastly superior, their soldiers armed with the arms and armor purchased through the bounty of their sudden windfall. The lesser force is crushed before their might and soon the rampaging soldiers descend upon helpless villages in their path, repeating the scene of destruction and pillaging.

"The generosity of the foolish kami was taken and used to further the march of conquest. Man turned against man, claiming dominion over their neighbors through bloodshed and tyranny."

A self-deprecating bark of laughter escapes the kami and she shakes her head, her expression miserable.

"Had this god any sense in them, they would have seen the folly of their actions and chosen a different path. But, gods are often slaves to the ideals which gave them life. In many ways, they enjoy fewer freedoms than you mortals, destined to tread the same road even if it is paved in tragedy and leads only to further suffering."

An almost identical recreation of the entire ordeal plays out again. The phoenix flies high and majestic, showering fortune and new growth upon those downtrodden and suffering. And again that reversal of fortunes is used to raise armies and sow the same misery into the world, naught changing but the heraldry upon the armor of the soldiers. The scene repeats itself, each iteration speeding up, every new cycle blending into the last until the only thing distinguishable is the smear of red upon the ground mirrored in the scarlet feathers of the firebird soaring above.

[CHEVY]
Chevy saw a phoenix. The parallel was impossible to discount. She'd thought the story was winding towards an end. But then she sees that, even with her response rate limited to just one statement, her limited worldview ends up causing injury of a sort.

Her brow furrows in frustration that doesn't quite work its way to the rest of her face. The hayseed is not angry, per se, just troubled that her attempts to keep the dialogue moving end up having the opposite effect.

Slowly, though, her discomfort does evidence itself in other ways, like the way in which she crosses her arms before her, cradling her elbows with lightly-calloused fingers. The farm girl's time on the island thus far has been a far cry from the lap of luxury provided by the Mermaid. And the urge to continue helping her teammate and fellow combatants is starting to cause tension with her desire to hear the end of the story.

"... It sounds to me like a cycle that just keeps on gettin' worse an' worse," she admits with a slight frown.

She glances down to her fishing rod -- makeshift, though it may be. A stretch of scavenged monofilament glitters in the sunlight, curled as it is upon the pier.

"I don't think it's really fair to get judgemental on earlier decisions, though."

Chevy looks back up -- no longer smiling, no longer frowning. "Those intentions was in the right place. Time an' time again, humanity just keeps forgettin' these things, and needs a little nudge here and there."

She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her jaw sets -- as she reminds herself to keep from being judgemental, herself.

"Gods live a lot longer than us mortals, right? We cain't remember somethin' we ain't lived through ourselves."

[JUNKO]
The human's response again evokes no immediate anger. Her words, at least, seem to have found some purchase within the ancient soul before her. But nor is there any surprise in Suzaku's face upon hearing Chevy's attempt to moralize the scenario that has been presented. They are words that have been spoken countless times by countless long forgotten voices, the young American's merely blending into the chorus.

Perhaps is the curse of living such short lives that mortals often believe they can justify repeating history. Once, when there was naught but the spoken word to pass along the lessons learned by those before, this might have held some value as an argument. But ever since the advent of the written word and the ease of spreading knowledge far and wide humanity's argument from ignorance has been a self-inflicted wound. Now, in this modern world of instant communication and boundless information, there is no excuse save laziness and willful ignorance.

"Lord Enma-o has judged those who had good intentions every day of every year since the birth of the gods," the miko says, shaking her head sadly. "The heavens are reserved for those who create good works."

Opening her eyes finally, Suzaku lifts her gaze to stare the human down once again. The familiar pressure returns, powerful and omni-present, though at the moment dormant; a reminder of the sheer density of the soul lurking behind those swirling pools of crimson flame.

How much tragedy and pain has that entity born witness to in its long life? What horrors and atrocities had it been forced to observe to fill it with such bitterness and sorrow? The kami could show her. Offer glimpses into a world of death and brutality the likes of which her sheltered existence could likely never even fathom.

"Your perspective is naive and limited. And ultimately misses the point. A mortal left to his own devices inevitably turns to evil. Only through coercion and punishment does your kind turn their sights towards the greater good."

The neutrality starts to bleed away from the kami's face, her brows furrowing and her lips twisting into a small scowl. Though her voice gains an edge of intensity to it, it remains soft and level, her anger restrained so that Chevy does not flinch away in fear and miss the message conveyed by those words.

"Look at me, mortal." A hand is pressed to the goddess's own chest, her slender fingers resting over her heart. "I have lived a thousand of your lives. And I could live a thousand thousand more only to see the same inevitable tragedies play out... again and again and again. You do not learn because you do not -want- to learn. Wickedness runs rampant while those few of you with good souls stand by, either because you are too few or too complacent to create the necessary change."

"That you would cast aside the gods," she continues, offering only a few moments to consider her words before moving on, "does not surprise me. This I can forgive, for we always hoped there would come a day when mankind no longer had need of our guidance. The path you have chosen is not one I would have wished upon you... but it is not my place to steer the winds. You have always been the masters of your own destiny and must face the consequences of your actions without us."

The fingers resting upon the miko's chest suddenly clench in a fist, balling up the fabric of her pristine white shirt. Her eyes narrow into dagger blades, scarlet fire blazing outwards to fill their sclera with hot fury. The corner of her lips peels back into a silent snarl, exposing her teeth like an animal preparing to lash out at whatever has irritated it.

"What I -cannot- abide," the kami hisses, her voice sharp and hot like steam threatening to boil over from a kettle left too long on the stove. "What I WILL NOT forgive, is the refusal of your kind to take accountability for their actions!"

Bereft of the visual aid that had allowed her to project those helpful lessons throughout the conversation, Suzaku unleashes the first outwardly violent act upon the human. Memories flood into Chevy's mind, branding themselves against her consciousness like a hot iron. The downtrodden and defeated warriors of old, the starving peasants, and the jaded fishermen once more appear. And as history repeats itself, as mankind foolishly squanders the gifts given to them out of love, they begin to grow bitter and resentful. Not towards their fellow man, who had taken prosperity and turned it into war and famine. Not even towards the gods who had ignored their pleas for aid and left them to their own devices.

As the hearts of these foolish creatures grew heavy and dark with malice and spite, one by one, they turn to the heavens and curse the foul bird that had gifted fortune unto their enemies.

Over and over, countless voices rise in chaotic unison to hurl a cacophony of never-ending hatred at the perceived source of their woes. Panicked and fearful, Suzaku continues to soar over the blighted land, showering blessing after blessing upon the beleaguered men. But with every passing cycle the firebird's once pristine plumage begins to grow dimmer. Black corruption starts to creep into its flaming feathers, the raw malice of those who once turned to it as a symbol of hope starting to pollute its very essence.

Eventually, even the boundless hope of the phoenix starts to crumble, anger and rage festering from the wounds inflicted upon it. In righteous fury, it descends from the sky, destroying with flame and beak those who had dared to blaspheme against it. Hundreds die upon the spears of its talons, hundreds more left burnt to cinders in the wake of its fiery wings. Until finally a group of robe-clad figures stand before it, casting waves of energy to bind the angry god and cast it down into blackness.

The touch of Suzaku's mind withdraws, scant more than a few seconds having passed despite the centuries of grief contained in that brief exchange of thoughts. The kami stands tall, her back straightening with both pride and fury. Black spots swim across her eyes while the greasy stains upon her wings writhe with twisted ancient hatred as she unfurls the radiant plumage to its full span at her back.

"Do you see now, mortal, the magnitude of the betrayal? Do you understand the depths of the sin that your kind has wrought?!"

[CHEVY]
The written word can count for a lot, certainly. But Chevy barely read the books that were set in front of her, let alone the billions or trillions of books that had not been. It isn't a matter of laziness -- but an overwhelming amount of noise and not enough signal.

But that is not to say that she is without faith. For, while it may not seem like much -- Chevy has carried out acts of faith all throughout her life. And it's with that background in mind that the farm girl who had been ignorant of so much of the -rest- of Suzaku's tale is able to nod along knowingly with the seemingly inconsequential off-hand to Enma-O.

"Oh... so he's like Saint Peter." She stares unblinkingly back at Junko, her chin dipping in a brief nod. "Faith without works, faith without -actions-, it don't mean nothin'. Folks are judged for the actions they took in life, good and bad."

For one fleeting moment, she's on the level.
But then, the neutrality fades from Junko's.
And it returns to Chevy's.

Naivety, limits, and pointlessness. Coercion and punishment. These aren't unfamiliar terms to the hayseed -- she'd heard them often in her weekly studies. But before she can give voice to any of the -new- thoughts roiling around in her head...

She is implored to look upon Suzaku. And she finds herself lost in a sea of words that roil around her like the tempests of Charybdis -- words not -expressly- targeted at her, but words that thrum with thinly-repressed rage all the same.

Chevy starts to part her lips, just as the scarlet fire erupts. Her eyelids open wide -- and then, an instant later, shut forcefully as the weight of thousands of years of anguish and sorrow slam into her with the force of a hurricane.

She staggers back, dropping to her knees, her parted lips quivering with agony as her mind tries to wrestle with the reality of what she's being presented. It would be a lot to take in if explained through scrolls -- and it's -far- more impactful to slam into the space of just a few seconds. Any barriers she might have erected to cope with a conversation of words prove useless against wave after wave of direct thought. The levee breaks; her elbows collapse into her lap as she drops down, cradling her throbbing forehead with both hands.

She wheezes, panting for breath for what might be a half a minute, or might be five -- but feels like an -eternity-.

Does she understand the depths of -betrayal?-
There's thoughts she could offer to reply to that.
Her lips quiver, as she struggles to regain some sense of composure.

Finally, she draws in her breath. Lifts her shoulders up. And raises her tear-stained gaze up to address the avatar of Suzaku once more.

"I understand... and I s-sympathize with you."

She lets that thought hang in the air.

She sniffs lightly, rubbing her cheeks dry before dropping her hands back to her kneeling lap.

"... These were people who swore themselves to you, who raised themselves up with your gifts, and who run your name through the mud to fuel their horrible, spiteful ways. I warn't there. And I understand why you're angry..."

She lifts her hands from her lap, sweeping both hands to indicate the crimson red curtain surrounding the island.

"... So what is *this* all about? Is it... punishment? It sounds like you aim to hold -us- accountable for gifts you gave someone else."

She draws her hands back to her chest, clasping one palm in another. "I'm twenty years old. I swore no oath to you. And I cain't speak for no one else -- but I'm beholden to no one but my Lord."

She lowers her head, in deference; her hands drop back to rest within her lap.

"I respect what you have done, and what you've done shown me. And I appreciate that you're holdin' back. But I'm gonna level with you..."

She makes the sign of the cross.

"The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want."

[JUNKO]
Reasonable words - offered up as a calm and thoughtful counter point to emotionally charged accusations. In any court of debate the hayseed would be basking in the applause of her spectators, her argumentation carving through the wild claims that all of mankind be held accountable for the actions of a tiny handful. No intellectual worth their title would give credence to the idea that a bad apple spoils the bunch. Such notions lay the foundation for all manner of hateful thoughts, offering justification for those who would paint those outside of their narrow world view as evil.

What she failed to account for, unfortunately, is that one cannot reason someone out of a position that they did not reason themselves into.

The kami's eyes close but unlike before the sealing of those small windows into her twisted soul does nothing to lessen the soul-crushing pressure - quite the opposite, in fact. Soft steady laughter rumbles deep in Suzaku's chest, her shoulders shaking from the efforts to contain it. When it finally spills past the girl's lips there is no attempt made to hide the ugly, twisted tone to that ominous sound.

"Angry?"

Embracing the maddened cackle fully now, Suzaku throws her head back and lets her emotion spill forth without restraint. It's cathartic in a way, like lancing a boil and watching the filth spew forth. Though it does little to address the source of the malaise the temporary release of pressure offers a moment of relief before the pain sets in anew.

A god's pain, as it turns out, is nothing like the ephemeral brushes with emotion that humans understand. As if it were a palpable force, malice billows out from the corrupted goddess, a hatred so deep and malignant that it warps the very surface of reality around her. The greasy smears upon her wings stain the air, smudging it like an oily rag wiped across a clean window. Tiny motes of fiery brimstone erupt from the firebird's open mouth as she roars with laughter, spewing towards the heavens like a miniature volcano on the verge of a full scale eruption.

"I am well beyond ANGER, mortal!"

Snapping her head down and opening her eyes, Suzaku turns a gaze of molten fury upon her quivering conversation partner. Every word spoken spews tongues of scarlet flame like an angry dragon, the heat licking at the American's exposed skin with what seems like deliberate intent. The veritable waterfall of snow white hair begins to glow like heated irons at its tips, the long flowing locks flowing upwards in the current of invisible writhing power to wreath her head like a crown of living silver flame.

"Did you not listen, child?! Did you not comprehend my words? It matters not which of your miserable ilk were responsible! You are all alike! Fruit of the same tainted seed! Even your holy scriptures say as much!"

The pier beneath them groans in agony, the thick wooden boards beginning to warp and twist in the heat like melting crayons. Suzaku pays such trivialities no mind, taking an aggressive step forward as she waves a hand furiously at the air between her and the mortal.

"And what was the solution that your vaunted 'shepard' came up with to mend mankind's rotten souls? To scour the world clean and start anew!"

A twisted grin filled with arrogant hostility contorts the kami's face, clearly relishing the opportunity to throw shade upon another divinity, her spite latching on to every target that presents itself.

"Surprised? You'll find I am quite familiar with the foolishness that you believe, girl. Your missionaries spread far and wide, reaching our shores well before I was bound to this feeble prison of flesh. So distraught with the wickedness of this world was your 'lord' that he all but abandoned it, hoping to drown your sins beneath the waves. A valiant effort - but he made one fatal flaw in allowing even a single one of you to survive."

The angry mirth melts from Suzaku's face transforming her expression into a mask of demonic hatred, her voice spewing venom through clenched teeth as the fingers of her outstretched hand clench into a tight fist.

"A mistake that I will not repeat."

[CHEVY]
Chevy's words are never without fault. It's a disappointment, to be sure -- but one she's resigned herself to, as speaking her mind has always been preferable to remaining silent.

Despite that -- she's not exactly ready for the firestorm that follows. Miss Beaumont's expression wilts as she raises her arms to ward off the fiery pressure. Wave after wave of superheated air buffet her backwards; with one wave, Chevy's actually blasted back to her feet. The aromas of brimstone and burning suntan oil fill the air; sweat beads on her forehead and bare arms as she tries her best to withstand the divine wind.

Unlike previous encounters, Chevy makes no attempt to cool the blazes with her mastery over water vapor. It'd be as futile as tossing a tray of ice cubes into a raging house fire, and she knows it. But she grits her teeth all the same, wanting to stand her ground, trying her damndest to -try- to hear the enraged goddess out throughout the blazing firestorm.

But then there are words that stick out amidst the bewildering fury.
The Lord had allowed mankind to survive the Flood.
And Suzaku deems that to be a -mistake-.

The twenty-year-old digs in her heels, refusing for the moment to withdraw any further. Flames lick at her arms. Her face pulls taut into a defiant mask. She squints back into the source of the superheated air.

"Well, that's on you, then."

She takes another half-step backwards, nudging the toe of one shoe against the back of her ankle.

Below the pier, the water starts to bubble and froth.

"If this... is how a shepherd like you treats her *flock*..."

She lifts her foot free of her shoe, stepping back without her blue-eyed gaze releasing from Suzaku.

"... it ain't no wonder the flock done wandered off."

A second half-step backward frees herself from her remaining shoe.

Dripping with sweat, Chevy shakes her head in disapproval. "If you ain't gonna -let- people redeem themselves, then somewhere along the line, you stopped being a *god*, Suzaku."

She drops to a crouch, pulling off her hat and cradling both it and her shoes close to her chest. Auburn hair buffets about in the rushing blaze as she scowls back at the phoenix goddess.

"You're a *demon* now..." she states. And then she repeats: "... And that's on *you*."

The waters of the reef erupt beneath her. A huge column of water, two meters across, surges up from the depths. It blasts through the besieged boards -- separating some of the planks from their frame -- and completely engulfs Chevy within its cooling, enveloping grasp.

"I'm done here, Suzaku."

The column of water sweeps her from the deck, carrying her off the deck and into the safe embrace of the reef in just three blinks of an eye. Some ten meters away, the column splashes down -- and the shoe-clutching waterbender inside stretches out into a high-velocity torpedo, thundering off into the depths of the reef.

A moment later, the warped, now-useless planks of the pier splash into the water, leaving their brethren and the burning frame as the only remaining witnesses to Suzaku's fury.

[JUNKO]
Throughout the conversation the kami had done her best to remain civil and in control of her emotions. It was a far more challenging task than the human might have realized. Even after she had shown Chevy the source of her burning rage and the effect that mankind's selfish prayers and blasphemous curses had upon the ancient phoenix she hadn't seemed to understand the true nature of the problem. A difference of culture, perhaps, or maybe the girl had simply missed the trees for the forest.

Suzaku had witnessed countless examples of mortal sin for humans were ever keen to engage in all manner of folly. Forgiveness had been given to those whom had realized the error of their ways and made proper penance while those who remained defiantly wicked were made examples of. Legends were born of these divine interventions and passed down, at first through word of mouth and eventually committed to parchment so that others might learn from the mistakes of the past. In such cases each person was judged upon the merit of their own choices and more often than not men learned to deal with these problems on their own.

But to fundamentally alter the nature of a god - that was an entirely different sort of transgression.

Such changes could only be brought about in the same manner that the kami had sprung forth, thousands upon thousands of souls all calling out in concert with unified purpose. Hope itself had been polluted by despair, twisted and corrupted from its very reason for existing by the very people whom it had loved so dearly. That spite and misery was like a cancer, a festering rot that took root within the kami's soul and began to spread until it had permeated every facet of its being.

The pain was beyond description. How does one explain what it feels like to have their core essence poisoned? To feel their mind and body set ablaze with hatred so intense that it consumes all other thoughts? A thousand years she had been left to putrefy in that decay, trapped and bound in an endless nightmare of blind rage.

That Suzaku was able to maintain a conversation at all is a testament to the temperance bestowed by the miko's soul. Though consumed by madness, the girl had fought and endured the phoenix's corrupted flames for nearly a decade, clinging to the last threads of her humanity until the very end. The memories of Chevy's kindness too had contributed to the firebird's ability to maintain a measure of calm.

But, whatever favor the human had garnered from those fragmented shards of the past has been spent and with it the last of the goddess's control.

A wordless bellow of fury literally shakes the air as Chevy seeks escape through her gifts. Scarlet flames erupt in a pillar of divine power that rushes to meet the sky, a crimson line that splits the sky like a tether between the heavens and the earth. The sheer magnitude of the outburst sends ripples through the world around the twisted deity, shredding the remains of the warped pier into a million toothpicks that promptly burst into flame and are utterly consumed. Foul black ash rains down from the remains into the waters below, staining the once beautiful inlet with writhing corruption as ink spilled upon blank parchment.

The manner of Chevy's escape proves wise, the column of water shielding her from the fiery shout and the dark conflagration that follows it. Though even through multiple meters of cool liquid the intensity of that rage is almost enough to boil the very oceans around them.

Turning her molten gaze towards the fleeing mortal, Suzaku lifts one of her hands and unleashes a fiery orb in retaliation for the woman's defiant words. Scarlet fire crashes down upon the reef, the hateful sphere punching through the ocean's surface like a cannon ball. Rather than be quenched by the waters, the supernatural projectile descends for a few seconds before detonating amidst the coral like a depth charge seeking to crack open the hull of a hidden submarine.

"A demon... am I?"

Suzaku's gaze remains fixed upon the ocean, her eyes scanning for even a hint of heat that might suggest the human had failed to escape. But even after it becomes clear that her quarry is long gone the kami glowers at the water's surface until her malice burns it completely black.

She regards her hand, the mortal flesh still aching with raw seared nerves from channeling such unfiltered power. Though the skin is red and swollen the thin tendrils of umbral rot seeping into her veins is plain to see. For a time the miko had attempted to hold the corruption back though she has already started to wonder why. This was the inevitable outcome, was it not? Even so, she had hoped that... well, it doesn't really matter any more. All that remains now is to see her plans through.

"So be it."

Log created on 17:55:31 07/16/2024 by Honoka, and last modified on 16:27:02 07/28/2024.