Ch.2 – Grey like the morning rain
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~That sounds... interesting. ~ the spirit shivered visually. It’s glowing form grasping its hands together, ~Am I … going there the way I was? Or... being born anew? ~ 
 
The Goddess senses the spirit’s anxiety, could see the grey seeping through the chromatic colours of its soul as it sat there before her. Her hand reaches out and touches the clasped hands of the spirit sitting before her. Her gentle touch calming the grey swirls, “No. This will be a new life. You don’t even have to have the memories you had. You could be born anew, or I could create a new body just for you. You could be reborn as a mouse if you want.” she smiles, “Come. Let’s talk this out, and we’ll go from there.” 
 
The spirit sits there for a long time. Then nods, the swirls of its soul filling with colour again. Looking up to the goddess, the shine from the soul growing brighter, showing the spirit version of joy. 

 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

A time later unknown to mortal or immortal. (Truly who tracks time for those that live forever?) 

 

The Goddess smiles as she sends the egg like capsule through the portal that will deliver it down to the planet below. “Have fun.”  
 
A Seraphim, a being made with a form made of geometry, wings, eyes, and other parts. Folding and unfolding itself beside the Goddess, it asks, “Was that truly wise? Making that mortal your first messenger to that planet? This planet has been forgotten by the god that controlled it for so long, that they may try and harm it for carrying a blessing.”  
 
The Goddess nods, “Oh I know, but for now I think where I am sending them, will let them be safe, and grow. They wanted to travel and explore. I think this would be a perfect way for them to start.” 
 
The Seraphim twists in their multidimensional version of a shrug, “If you say so, but isn’t that species supposed to be extinct now? They had exorbitantly long lives. But as a species, they are gone.” 
 
The Goddess smiles, “They know that, and thought it would be fun. If they are able to capture one of the dungeon cores and take control. They will be able to revive the species with that function. Something they said would be fun to try.”  

 

The Seraphim shivers in a new direction, a version of a nod, “I see.” they watch the glowing capsule descend with the goddess a little longer, “Should we dispatch a cherubim to act as their companion?” 
 
The Goddess laughs and looks to the Seraphim, “I knew it. You did make friends with them, didn’t you?” 
 
The Seraphim has a shimmer of colour flow over its inner core, embarrassment, “They were kind, not many mortal souls are able to look upon Seraphim and not either scream in horror, or lose their minds. It was... enjoyable to converse with someone that wasn’t … wasn’t...” 
 
The Goddess grins knowing that it was her own divine domain that kept the spirit safe from the energies of the Seraphim’s existence, but she also knew that it was the spirit’s own strength that let it befriend them, “`So stuck up their own tail portal that they can see what they’re chewing.’ is what you said I believe?” she chuckles and shakes her head in a negative, “A cherubim may be like arming them with a nuke, those little brats are way too blast happy.” she thinks for a moment still watching the falling one, “Perhaps we should send a local existence. The Fae has a foothold on this world. The queen should enjoy this immensely. I mean when was the last time a world changed hands while they watched?” 
 
The Seraphim glows again, and chortles, bobbing in their form of suppressed laughter, “Oh yes. I shall contact them now.” it’s form shaking then expanding, becoming a mirror like surface. 
 
A few moments pass before a confused androgynous face shows on the screen. They have antlers reaching back over the top of their head, made of what looks to be bone and wood melded into the same material. Iridescent silver hair tumbling down over their slim shoulders, a face beautiful and angular, inhuman, but at the same time alluring.  

 
“<Hello. I do not think we have spoken. Greetings, oh powerful being of the godling species. I am the mother-queen of this world’s Fae - Maellis. Are you the one the system message spoke of an age ago? The new god-administrator?>” 
 
The Goddess smiles, “<Hello Maellis, I am indeed the goddess that was spoken of in that message. My name is Raianya. I have just sent a new soul down to the surface, one that has my blessing. They are neither of this world, or wish to harm it. Think of them as someone that wishes to see all, taste all, and feel all. They are here as a reward, and I wish them to enjoy themselves.>” 
 
Maellis widens their eyes, “<Oh my. I have only heard of such things from other queens, the last god-administrator was very hands off. A shame really, I think they could have prevented that genocide by putting a foot down for once.>” they tilt their head as they look at the god on the other side of the rippling mirror. “<You are informing me of this soul to ask of me something?>” 
 
Raianya nods, “<That I did Fae Queen. This soul will need a local guide, someone that can hopefully be a way to keep them out of true trouble. Possibly to even negotiate between them and the locals if it comes down to it.>” 
 
Maellis raises an eyebrow, “<Why would a blessed soul require a negotiator?>” 
 
Raianya grins, “<Well you see Maellis...>” 

 
A few minutes of conversation later, Raianya sits there grinning, watching the Fae queen coming out of the giggle fit that she fell into after her explanation. “<May we continue, Maellis?>” 
 
Wiping her eyes to dislodge the crystalline tears that had fallen from her eyes, “<Goddess, I have not laughed that hard since ages lost to me.>” she nods at the goddess through the divine communications, “<Very well. I shall dispatch a fairy that I know to be this blessed one’s guide and companion. I pledge the fae will not attempt knowingly to trick or harm them. I pledge that I will not call upon any favours for this as it has been paid in full already.>”  
 
Raianya lifts an eyebrow at the Fae queen, “<I was expecting at least a small price. Why the discount?>” 
 
Maellis grins happily at the goddess, “<Because I think I am going to get a lot of entertainment out of this. Probably more than you will ever know. I’ll send the fairy forthwith.>” she then bows her head, “<Thank you for letting me participate in this, Goddess.>”  
 
Raianya smiles at Maellis and returns the bow with a deep nod of her head, “<You are more than welcome Maellis, I hope we can continue this relationship going forward.>” the communication is then cut off, and the Seraphim returns to their original multidimensional form.  
 
The Seraphim speaks to its god as it turns to look back at the image of the world, “Are we getting back to work now? I believe we are slightly behind on the system update.”  
 
Raianya pouts, “Damn, I was hoping you forgot that.” 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

 

She feels the bounce and rattle of something under her. It is not comfortable at all. A few thin layers of cloth on hard wood. 
 
She then hears a gruff voice complaining about a road. Something about stupid forest tracks and backwoods boonies.  
 
As she opens her eyes, a rough looking man with a short beard and long dirty blonde hair comes into her view as he leans over to look her in the face, “Hey, you. You’re finally awake.” his grey-blue eyes have concern in them.  

 

Her thoughts instantly jump to a memory, as she thinks to herself, ‘I swear if she’s dumped me in that game for a lark, I am going to glitch a dragon through...’ her thoughts come to a stop as she spies that she is in a covered wagon, and she’s actually laying down. Also noting that she can feel she is clothed and not stripped down. 

  
She then moves quickly, checking herself and making sure she’s not been bound up, not wanting to have been caught in some nefariousness the moment she woke up. Keeping her eyes on the man who greeted her when she regained consciousness. 

 
His eyes widen a little as he begins to understand what the woman was checking for, and he lifts his hands up slowly, showing the woman before him that they are empty, “Whoa now lady, we aren’t bad guys. Yes, we did pick you up from the side of the road, but that was because you were passed out in the middle of it. Are you okay? We don’t usually run into solo mercenaries out here.” 
 
The woman sits up, and a few moments pass before she speaks, her thoughts running down the list of things she should probably say. She thanks the goddess for giving her the ability to understand most of the spoken languages in this world. It takes some active deliberation to sort through them to find the right one to say, until she chances on another bit of imbued knowledge, selecting the one that is the most common tongue used in the northern continents.  

 

"I am heading north," she says, and is momentarily shocked by the extreme dissonance between the expected timber of her voice and the reality of her new smokier voice, before she smiles and thinks to herself, I like it. 

 
The blonde-haired man makes a grimace, like he has thought that he’s about to ask something distasteful. “So, if you were heading north, were you going solo? No party at all?” His eyes move up to look at a point above her forehead, his grimace not going away. 

 
With his eyes moving to look at the woman's obvious horns, it gives her a few moments to think out a good explanation. She had not been ready to explain herself to anyone else just yet, not expecting to wake up among the world’s locals. She had hoped to have started in the forest, or maybe even a dungeon, but realizing that would have been almost suicidal she decides this is a much saner starting place.  
 
She reaches up to feel her head, trying to feel the horns she knows are supposed to be there. Then deciding on what to say, “Just me. I heard there is less trouble in the north.” 
 
The man realizes that he had been staring at the woman’s horns, and looks embarrassed as he blurts out, “Look, you don’t have to worry, no one in this country discriminates against the demon-kin here.” He bites his lip for a moment, then leans out the front of the wagon, “Hey old man, you should be the one in here talking to her. I’ll drive, you’re the priest and all.” 

 

The wagon slows to a stop, and the blonde-haired man climbs out of the back of the wagon, his short sword bouncing on his hip. Showing that he was not unarmed in her presence.  
 
The woman registers the weapon, then understands what had been happening, the priest was driving because they were worried, she might have been faking the sleep, and were on guard about her attacking them. It makes sense. Smart move by the guy with the sword. 

 

As she listens to the footsteps moving away from the wagon, she starts to relax a little, knowing she has some more time to herself, more time to get her bearings, and take stock of herself. She can barely hear the hushed talking start, so she knows she has some more time yet. 
 

Her hands move back up to her head, but she stops them when they come into sight... noticing that her hands and arms are slimmer than she remembers her original arms were, fingers straighter, the nails are dark and slightly sharpened. Her skin is a creamy cinnamon, her thoughts whirling a little at the sight before she goes back to exploring her new form. Thinking to herself, I really need to get a mirror.  

 
Her fingers find her horns and run over the smooth protrusions that are pushing up from the top of her forehead, each at a point around the spots that would be directly above the corners of her eyes. No clear image yet, other than that they’re a little sharp. Going straight up. And about the length of her hand. She smiles and laughs very softly as she continues. 
 
Her hand pulls some of the loose hair forward and she blinks at the sight. Her smile then widens as she spies her hair is now her favourite colour. Purple. Closing her eyes she pulls her hair fully over her face, feeling its soft touch against her skin, making her laugh a little more. 

 

The final check she needs no mirror or searching to see, simply looking down at herself, her shape and form so much different than her original self, so very feminine that there is no doubt. She is indeed a woman.  

 

Emotions start to hit her, waves of them, starting with little splashes, then building to huge tidal reef smashing crashes. Slamming through her as she starts to curl into a ball as she sits there on the floor of the wagon. Her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands pressed against her face. Trembles starting to move through her shoulders. 
 
She feels like she wants to cry. 

 

But these are not tears of sadness.  

 

These are tears of joy. 

 

She feels shivers running through her body. Stress unravelling. Stress she did not even know she had been carrying. She feels like it is sliding off her, like a sludge covered sheet. Rolling off her, but leaving her uncoated in the muck it carries. More like the sheet is taking the mud and darkness that had been coating her. Washed away like mud in rain. 

 

And rain there is. Tears washing down her cheeks and hands. Tears flowing and dripping down onto the sheets she is sitting on. She does not feel she can stop them. She then realizes she does not want too.  

 

She has been born again. Born into a new life, a new world, a new chance.  

 

This is where she will find a new path. She will explore this world. Meet new people. Make new friends, possibly find love. It’s all new. And all there for her to try.  

 

She feels the grey creep up inside, some of the sludge is still there. Clinging on, wrapped around her feet and legs. Wanting to still pull her back down into the grey again. Wanting her to fail. Wanting her to know she is just like before. What difference is there in a new world when you are no different inside? Why have a new body when you are going to mess up again anyway? You’re terrible with people. You’re still just you. 
 
She wants to scream at her own dark voice. She wants to tell it to shut up. But it is her own voice. A voice she has heard so many times. Drowning her in its grey. Smothering her in its complacent fugue of state. Not to try. Not to escape. Why try when all you do is fail anyway? 

 

Then she feels a warmth on her hands, and her face, and she opens her eyes, looking up at the kindly old face of an old man. He looks like a dwarf with that massive white beard, and squat features. He smiles as his hand glows, the warmth coming from his touch on her hands, “I don’t know what happened. But if you need more time, that luckily is something we have plenty of now.” 

 

He sits back a little, seeing the amazement in her eyes, it was like it was the first time she had seen a Dwarf, or magic. Her green eyes reddened from the crying she had been doing. The old dwarven priest speaks again, “My name is Doxan. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

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