It was relatively subtle, how Ivacus Manaclaw, former hermit and voyager, now Pathfinder Supreme, entered the domain of Dalanesca the Reaper.  There was no fanfare, just a simple, silent blip in space-time to account for an object that definitely shouldn't have been there now somehow being there anyway.  His raggedy robes were still aflutter from the teleportation spell he had cast from the realm he was still busy building for himself, as he took in the dark, yet unmuted gothic tones of his former patron's throne room.

He had met the Lady of Demise once before in a concerted joint effort to bring down the lich that governed the undead city of Aysut and suffered an unfortunate lack of tactical awareness and higher brain function, as he recalled.  However, what he still most vividly remembered was grovelling before her, in an attempt not to get sent down here before his time…how he never would have imagined that he would come here voluntarily but a few years later, and (technically) as an equal no less.  

The little lizard noticed that he had ported in behind the throne itself, which was entirely intentional.  He had found that his sense of direction and knowing how to get exactly where he wanted had improved to unreasonable limits upon his ascension; of course, he was still busy being incredibly irresponsible with them, and was all too happy to try and get the drop on the woman he had once, and in truth, still did revere.  After all, despite the domains of power the Voice had assigned him to be the caretaker of, he still dabbled in earthly necromancy every once in a while.  Was a rather easy way to make servants he knew wouldn't do anything wrong…as long as they weren't losing limbs some way or another, at least.

Thankfully, there seemed to be quite a few shadows the little lizard could meld into…and so he did, using his new godly prowess in magic to literally slither his way up the wall behind The Reaper's throne and peek out just above it.

Should she be within her seat, he would immediately pull half of his body out of the shadows he had melded with, a dozen feet or so above the throne, and hail her with a happy, reptillian lisp: "Greetingssss Glorious-Reaper-Dalanesca!  How are you doing this fine…um…" he paused, looking outside one of Dalanesca's grand windows, leading to vistas of sheer blackness beyond her mansion: "…incredibly-offsetting-starlessss-moonlessss-night?

Dalanesca was, in fact, on her throne.  She sat in an incredibly casual manner, a black stone cup in one hand from which she sipped rather lazily.  She was turned sideways and her legs were slung over the arm of her throne, feet dangling in the air.  On the floor next to her there sat a crystal decanter filled with a dark brown liquid, from which she would fill her cup as it emptied.  Her feet were bare and she kicked them lazily as she lounged in what could only be described as her nightgown, clearly enjoying a night free of any responsibilities.  

Of course, she had sensed that another deity had entered her realm - but there was no malice to the entrance, therefore she felt no need to run to find whosoever it was that had chosen to visit her.  She did not have to wonder for long about who it was, as a unique voice greeted her from the shadows of her ceiling.  She was mid-sip when the voice hissed out, and it caught her so off guard that she sputtered slightly.  She tilted her head up to see one of the Voice's newest chosen peeking out from the darkness.  Her mind flickered back to a brief memory when she had first encountered him, before settling back into present day.

"Oh, um, Ivacus, hello," she said, aware of his name both from her memories but also from the intimate knowledge that was offered to both she and Angela from the Voice.  As the eldest gods in Conclave, they were privy to quite a bit of information that others weren't.  She didn't bother to make herself straightened up and proper - among gods, as equals, there was no need for pomp and circumstance - at least, not in her opinion.  Her cheeks were a bit rosier than usual, and it was clear that she had been imbibing quite a bit of the nectar she received from Angela.  "How nice of you to pay me a visit!" she said, and with one swift moment, she waved her hand in front of her, a smaller version of her throne appearing right next to her own, a copy right down to the last femur.  

She had a chuckle at his description of the atmosphere outside of her palace.  "I control the weather down here.  Sometimes, I like it sunny - the heat of the sun feels good on my skin, you know - but my sun down here is a red sun… no brightness like the real thing," she said.  "Come on down here, sit," she said, gesturing towards the chair.  As if on cue, one of her many help came in, this one a striking young man who had been relieved of his tongue and his mouth sewn shut.  He carried a tray bearing another cup as well as a full decanter of the same liquid. "Join me in a drink, and do tell me what your coming-to-power was like, my tiny-lizard-man-turned-god-who-is-oddly-intriguing," she said, imitating his speech patterns and chuckling to herself - clearly not as an affront to him, but merely because she enjoyed the way he spoke.  She was quite looking forward to hearing what the Voice had seen in him, as when she had last seen him he had been a groveling mess at her feet after insulting her - not someone she would have exactly thought of as god material.

It was incredibly strange to him; though he wasn't a stickler for respecting authority figures, Dalanesca was the one authority figure beyond Father Kreest he had, perhaps begrudgingly, come to admire and respect.  During his tenure as a necromancer of the mortal realm, he felt compelled to considering how messy the dark arts were.  And now here she was just sort of…sitting there like she hadn't a care in the world.  All seemed doom and gloom around her, yet her casual demeanor was here to strike a fine discord with it all.  Perhaps not every god in this new strange world was a stuffed shirt.  

Ivacus gave her a toothy grin in response to her pleasure at his presence, followed by a slight gasp of surprise as she made a cute little copy of her throne and bade him to sit.  "For me?" he would ask, genuinely appreciative of this gesture, waiting for an affirmative before melding back into the shadows and sliding back down the wall, up under the miniature throne, before sliding into the seat as his shadow meld seamlessly ended with him sitting crosslegged on it, looking at Dal with a happy gleam in his reptilian eyes.  The best approximation he could give for how he felt was as if he was meeting some kind of famous celebrity he revered…it was hard to remind himself that he was technically her equal now.  

"A brightless sun, hnrm?" he said in response to her explaining how she controlled the weather.  "I've been everywhere in Revaliir and I've yet to see something like that, Macabre-Mistress…something else to throw in Ssriryu-ra one day, maybe."  He almost wanted to ask for a demonstration, as his heart was always eager to seek new wonders…apparently so eager that it garnered the attention of this world's divine entities.  But he wasn't here for parlor tricks that he surmised he could now do himself in his own realm.  

He noticed the lad come in and gratefully accepted the drink…duly noting his mouth being literally sewn shut.  Probably someone that had angered the goddess in some way he could imagine…it was nice to be on her good side.  However he was more occupied at the moment with whatever this strange, amber liquid was.  It had a sort of hot smell that tingled his sensitive nostrils and tongue in a way he wasn't quite used to.  He hadn't had a libation in his entire life, even when he frequented seedy bars for odd jobs.  Thus he had no idea what he was in for when he took a greedy gulp.

As Dal asked him of his coming to power, the lizard began to gag and sputter at the intense, burning feeling that hit his mouth going down his throat.  "Hwwwhat…cough…is this stuff?" he asked while a warm smoothness began to overtake his esophagus and stomach; it seemed it was worth imbibing in the end, but that initial burning was simply weird.  "Is this what godsss drink…mmff…are we supposed to incinerate our throats while we're up here?"

Eventually he would settle down and answer the initial question: "As for…coming-to-power…I was visited by this Voice…but he was…Voice-as-an-old-man.  Disguised.  He was gauging me to see if I was right for the job.  But he was a real, real jerk…truly worthy of stuffed shirt status, you know," he said, looking furtively around him in case that…whatever it was was still watching him.  "But…he said he wanted me because of what I'd been through, something like that.  That I needed to help others endure what I went through…but…"  he turned his head to her eyes.  Somehow he just knew what she had in mind about this whole thing earlier, seemingly from the way he looked at him.  "I know.  I don't really understand why I'm here either."