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At roughly four thirty seven, fifty six ante meridiem, the Bittertruth penthouse stationed in the Golden Giza, Saint Martial, Rogue Isles falls silent. All sapient beings, of worldly and other dimensional realms, have fallen into the second and first round of slow wave sleep, respectively. Often referred to as the most difficult to wake stage of sleep, this is when the mythic entity in the domain chooses to become more active. Going by the name of both ‘Queen’ and ‘Truth’, the otherworldly being takes this time to slowly, gently, clean the domain in which they reside. Despite the near ancient descent from true godhood, ‘Queen’ uses their telekinesis and hovering capability to achieve goals many find impossible, and they themselves find bizarre.
Who knew that immortal, all-powerful beings that forgo time and space itself, would find themselves invested in the lives of a mortal woman and girl on a small planet far from home? Geniuses in their own fields, capable of incredible things, but trapped within frail, mortal bodies? It is a tragedy beyond words, to think that they will both perish one day. Not out of any fault of their own, but simply due to their nature of existence. Granted, both of them seem incredibly sturdy by your standards. The woman in question is nearly constantly being rendered into a puddle due to the enemies she chooses to combats, and the girl has a mental fortitude that often leads to ‘Queen’ being jealous.
Now isn’t the time for rumination, however. It is a time for action.
By five forty four, twenty seven ante meridiem, ‘Queen’ has decided that the penthouse has reached a sufficient level of cleanliness. At this time, about one hour, two minutes, and fourteen minutes ahead of schedule, one of the residents enter the rapid-eye movement stage of sleep. Nearly instantly, she comes under the attack of a nightmare; ones that they have informed ‘Queen’ happen due to certain events in her dimension. Distracted by this, ‘Queen’ abandons her plans of leaving to assure a restful sleep for the resident. Humidity grows denser, and the room grows colder as ‘Queen’ wills it, and they rolls a larger blanket on top of the sleeping girl. Visibly, her facial expressions shift, and start to settle. ‘Queen’ doubts she will need more aid than this.
Despite being twenty minutes and twenty four seconds behind schedule, the alien deity known as ‘Queen’ leaves the Bittertruth penthouse. Sigils of an ancient, long forgotten language surround her being and evaporate, leaving nothing but a fast melting trail of snowflakes behind her. The magical field protecting a large enough amount of the Golden Giza would stop most intruders, but is incapable of stopping their transportation. Such is life when foreign magics interact with Earthly magics.
In front of her lies the remaining islands that make up Saint Martial, with billowing smoke stacks from the industrial district casting a dark background for the bright lights of the downtown district. Away from the Vanguard foothold and the Arachanos base lie short beaches, and endless waves of salted sea water. The mask wearing deity known as ‘Queen’ was caught in a short moment of clarity, where the concept of time was lost to them once again. Unknown to them, they started to gnaw on their lower lip, attempting to mimic a mandible long gone since their social introduction to Earth.
It’s that moment when they realize that it has been forever since they last saw an ocean so still. Even on their creation planet, multiple moons would pull and churn the world’s many oceans into a haphazard frenzy, mimicking lively movements long after the last life passed. A world where only winter exists, as all else has passed. An endless freeze, an endless hibernation, an endless death. It is entirely possible that the oceans are the only water left, and that a new kingdom of creature has sprouted from the tumultuous brine, with the moons doing their part to keep the very last source of life from freezing into eternal stillness.
Humans talked about a sensation of homesickness. It was one such ‘sickness’ that effect both of the sapiens that shared the Bittertruth penthouse, and it is a sickness that does not seem to be cured by any sort of medicine. It causes anxiety, restlessness, and an urge to flee to familiar territory. Their people, ‘Queen’s’ people, never had quite a sensation like that, but perhaps that was only because they never saw it happen. Perhaps it was because ‘Queen’ always felt at home on their planet, from the deepest cave to the windiest plains.
Looking out at this still ocean, this still water… is this the feeling of homesickness? ‘Queen’ was pondering this. Silently musing in their infinite mind. How can an immortal feel anything that they’re not familiar with? Shouldn’t they know all feelings, all expressions, just as they exist as they do? This unfamiliarity was, in a way, terrifying. Are they losing more power than they thought? Is there, in fact, limits to a god’s power?
It was incredibly thrilling, to feel afraid.
With a deep breath, ‘Queen’ freezes the humidity in the air immediately around them. A casing of ice coats their carapaced skin, and seals their tailored clothes. Every movement that would cause a crack of ice, they would simply refreeze and reseal. It was a trivial use of their power, but, for what they wished to do, it was a crucial part to avoid any future discomfort. Descending from the air, ‘Queen’ dips their boots into the chilling ocean, slowly submerging herself among the waves. From their boots, to their skirt, to their bolero, to their mask and crown of horns.
‘Queen’ would be roughly thirty minutes and nine seconds late to greet their sapiens a ‘Good Morning’ at twelve twenty, thirty seven post meridiem. The two of them will be worried, as will her sapiens, but it is nothing that can’t be paved over with human social gestures. The ones known as ‘hugs’ are quite effective, ‘Queen’s’ studies have concluded.