Perhaps it was time now that the circle was filled? Perhaps now with all of the negativity gone they could rejoice softly in their brotherly bonds. She felt the comforts of her realm and retreated to the conclave. She wouldn’t force the others to join her but did bribe them with lots of tea and cookies she had baked. In the invitation it was also more somber, there was tone hidden within her whispers. They had suffered much and much had changed. A new Triune, new powers, and above all else new deities.

Her fingertips traced the edges of what were once the thrones of those who fell. “It will change soon,” her voice moved to the shape of a person not far from her. It never did speak to her when it was annoyed at her actions. The Tree sure could hold a grudge. The chairs of the old began to break down and crumble as they changed for their new masters. There was a hint of sadness in the goddess’s eyes. “We all leave eventually.” She reminded herself.

Looking over to her throne of petrified wood. It had fire opal laid in it all throughout like many small and large veins. Agate of pinks and greens decorated the top of it. Flowers were bursting out of the sides and there always seemed to be fireflies nearby as if lighting her seat for her. Her red hair began to blow softly as the breeze of this place picked up. Her eyes moved to the deer and other wildlife that the Tree harbored. 

Her dress was elegant as always. Her mannerisms, however, seemed lacking as if she was tired and hurt. She lost family when the gods fell but she also gained new ones as time went on. As she promised there was a small table with the snacks that she had bribed them with. Just like a mother would. She took her seat and watched the skies light up softly with the aurora of her just sitting there. It was night somewhere in Revaliir.

Torn was standing at his balcony, enjoying the games. The first few challengers had begun to trickle into the Dream Arena, and the last bardic performance had been good. Torn had allowed bards to enter without doing the pilgrimage, as long as they had a degree from a proper college. The last performance had been pretty good - a band of bards had asked to do a performance without taking the gauntlet, just to assess how the crowd was. The crowd had enjoyed the show, and now there was a good fight between two pairs of gladiators. The fight was close and passionate, and the crowd of sleeping revalites went wild as one of the gladiators took a grazing blow from his opponent’s shortsword. Just as the fight was coming to a close, however, Torn felt a tingling sensation in his brain. He pondered. Cookies and tea does sound nice right about now, he thought, and stood up from his seat. The gladiator that got hit got riposted trying to counterattack, turning the fight into a 2-on-1 situation - and the 1 was clearly very tired. Torn called out. “Match over! Red team wins!” The crowd went wild, and angels stepped into the arena to heal the fallen gladiator before he bled out. He had fought well, and Torn wanted to see the man return - no point in wasting his death-free attempt. He then turned to one of his other angels. “Tell Keira I’ll be meeting the conclave, please. And make sure the fights are judged fairly,” he said. The angel, modeled after the valkyries from northern folklore, bowed. “As you will, my prince. What should we do about the extra challengers to the Warriors’ Gauntlet?” Torn shrugged. “Free-for-alls should make for good entertainment.” The valkyrie bowed again, and stepped inside to carry out her orders. Torn closed his eyes, and vanished, travelling to the Conclave.

Torn opened his eyes again, finding himself in the middle of a massive plain. There appeared to be nothing there, until he turned around - seeing the world tree in all its massive glory, and the ring of thrones belonging to the different deities. Angela was already there, resting on her throne of petrified wood. Torn smiled, and approached. “Good day, aunt Angela,” he said, nonchalantly picking up a cookie, munching on it. “Delicious as always,” he said, looking around. At one of the spots in the circle of thrones, there was a big oaken chair with regal purple velvet pillows, with a big plaque reading “Prince of Epics” in gilded lettering. Torn frowned. “It looks a bit… Standard,” he said, taking a seat.

He tried the chair, frowning. “Nope. This won’t do.” He got the feeling he could change the throne as he pleased, so he closed his eyes - and the throne obeyed his wishes. From the ground sprang the skull of a dragon,its mouth agape. Through a hole in one of the dragon’s teeth, a hammock formed and tied itself in place. It was tied again at the bottom, and Torn was somehow lying comfortably in the hammock, as if looking up at the circle - while still being in it. The hammock seemed to have a gravitational pull of its own, allowing Torn to lie comfortably and still make eye contact with the rest. Behind him, a constantly changing scene of battle, love, and other songworthy scenes formed from the ether, occupying all of his ‘slice’ of Conclave.

“Much better,” he said with a grin. He whistled, and from the ether, a small cloud formed. Torn watched as the cloud floated over to the cookies and tea, pouring a cup of picking up a few cookies, placing them on top of itself, and floating back to Torn. Torn took a sip of tea and began nibbling on another cookie, providing himself with comfort bordering on bizarre. “So, why’d you invite me here?” Torn asked, finally satisfied with his throne.

Hidden from anyone that may visit his temple was his airship.  While Suishō no Kyūden was his new home, his airship would forever be his own private place of solitude.  Just like the rest of his private chambers, Echo was the only other soul with access to it.  Forever shrouded from site, it stayed anchored just off to the side of the great Crystal Palace, gently floating.  Presently he was in what used to be his bedroom, eyes closed as he felt the soft sway caused by cold mountain air.  He was only a few more minutes away from sleep when he felt a stirring in his head.
 
It was so familiar to Minasé that he instantly bolted up, eyes shifting this way and that quickly.  A strong light began to glow around him and the white markings on his skin brightened.  But there was no one there.  He swallowed down against the dryness in his throat and slumped, fingers pushing anxiously through his hair as the glow began to dim back down.  Calm gentle words rang out through his head, so unlike Minasé.  This comforting welcome was recognized as coming from The Mother herself.  His eyebrows furrowed at her invitation, unsure of how to get to the Great Tree.  No one knew where it was anymore…
 
Still, he didn’t want to decline an invitation from Angela and stood up from his bed.  He walked out and up the wooden stairs to the deck of his airship, going straight to the railing to lean and peer down at the colorful Crystal Garden so many stories down.  Well, no time like the present.  His eyes closed and he teleported away, reappearing on his black tourmaline throne within the temple.  There was no one there at the moment and his legs crossed as he began to center himself.  It was getting easier to do and much faster than what he was used to, much in part to the energy in this room specifically.
 
Gradually he began to feel himself pulling away from this plane, but it was so different than merely teleporting.  He was merging with the other side and couldn’t imagine why he would have been so nervous about doing this in the first place: it felt natural now.  When his glowing eyes opened it was to the breathtaking site of the Great Tree.  Stories had been told, songs sung by bards of its legend but none even came close to actually standing in its presence.  Like with anyone that brought an offering to his altar, he felt the sudden urge to kneel…but held back performing the action.
 
Tall grass swayed around him, brushing against his hips as if leading him towards it as he walked closer.  As he drew more near he saw a ring of seats and a table adorned with food.  He smiled, amused, remembering back to what Angela had promised.  He thought about Torn, of Angela, Moliira and how she had fought so hard to help Natsumi, and all of the other deities whose names he’d learned but hadn’t met personally just yet.  Counting them off in his head he realized there were just enough seats for each of them…and then one more extra.  He knew it wasn’t for her, but he couldn’t help but think of Natsumi once more and his heart filled with grief.  If only she’d lasted here a bit longer, they might both have been meeting under the Great Tree’s boughs today…
 
It eased him that it was only Angela and Torn that had arrived so far.  And while he was still learning Torn, there was something about the man’s nature that made him comfortable…if not with a lace of wariness in the very back of his head.  Everyone’s seats seemed to suit them and then he saw his own: it was simple enough, made of strong wood with his name engraved.  But as he drew closer it started to shift.  His walking slowed to a stop and so too did the change in the chair.
 
His eyebrows furrowed and he slowly walked towards it once more, not letting himself stop this time but keeping a careful pace.  The chair started to bend and change, elongating, growing more slender and ethereal in its design.  The dark wood paled more and more until it was completely crystal clear with no color whatsoever.  By the time he was close enough to touch it, it appeared to be cast completely of diamond, bright foggy wisps swirled within it, constantly moving in a slow current.  Reaching out his hand, he gently touched the cold smooth back of the chair, and at that moment it lifted into the air: only hovering a few inches from the ground.  Not enough to surpass any other deity’s seat, but enough that it was known it had no intention of staying grounded to the earth.  This is mine….?  Was it by his own design…?  It certainly seemed to suit him with its seemingly fragile frame and proud association with light.
 
He tore his eyes away from it, not sitting in it just yet as he realized that there were still two other people here with him that he’d somehow completely forgotten about.  His smile was apologetic as he looked from Torn, who seemed quite comfortable in his own throne like chair, to Angela: aglow with fireflies, “Is it only us so far…?”  The Voice had chosen him, yet he still couldn’t help but feel out of place here.  How was everyone else so comfortable?  Well, then again they had been part of The Conclave for much longer than he, but Torn seemed right at home.  Hopefully one day he too would reach that level…For now, he disappeared from view in a soft and silent flash of light only to reappear seated cross legged in his own floating seat.  It felt right…

Dalanesca’s eyes snapped open.  She woke with a start, staring into the darkness of her bedchambers.  She could feel the weight of Marth on the bed next to her, scarcely making out his outline.  She could feel Angela’s call, inviting not only Dalanesca but all deities to join her in Conclave.  There were a number of reasons this made sense to her.  She had ascended to Triune, but no Conclave had been called since - and she was sure that the Voice was a little less than happy with Angela (and indirectly Dalanesca) for theoretically tearing a hole in reality.  The last Triune, he who came before her, had fallen.  New deities had ascended to fill the cracks.  These reasons on their own were enough for a meeting at Conclave, but putting them all together in one group gave the reason all the more importance.  

She rolled to her other side with some difficulty, the child growing within her womb causing a bit of awkwardness with the movement.  As she swung her feet to hit the floor and got up to a sitting position, she could feel Marth shifting behind her.  “Where’re you going?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

She answered him without turning around.  “Angela has called us to Conclave,” she said, thought it was quite clear that the ‘us’ she spoke of did not indicate the pair of them, but rather all of the deities.  “It’s a call that I must heed,” she said, and stood from the bed as Marth made a disinterested noise and rolled over, asleep again within moments.  She got herself dressed, and shortly she was no longer standing in her own realm, but in the realm crafted specifically for the visits of deities.  

She had not yet been to Conclave, but Angela had described it to her in great detail - about how each member of Conclave had their own spot at Conclave, the throne crafted in their image.  She could immediately see a throne of petrified wood when she arrived, which she immediately connected to Angela.  The only other descriptive thrones aside from Angela’s that had appeared thus far was that of the Prince of Epics, who Dalanesca had only met briefly -  from what she knew of Torn, his ‘throne,’ if one could call it that, seemed quite suited for his personality; and that of Naota, the other newcomer to Conclave.  She had not yet made his acquaintance, but she approved the appearance of his throne, and looked forward to meeting him.

Glancing about briefly, her eyes fell on the throne that she knew to be her own, directly to the left of Angela’s.  Presently it was plain and made of unstained oak with black cushions.  She frowned - but as she frowned it began to change.  The base and seat became carved entirely of glossy obsidian, depicting skulls and demons writhing around, while the back and arms were carved of white marble, showing angels and doves.  Cushions of black and white silk adorned the seat - it looked rather comfortable.  She smiled, and approached the seat, greeting her celestial brothers and sister as she walked, albeit rather uncomfortably, with one hand resting on her stomach.

“Angela,” she beamed at her fellow Triune, as she settled herself into her throne.  She knew she could have intermingled with her fellow deities, but the life growing within her was enough to tire even a goddess out.  She turned to Torn, giving him a polite yet slightly disapproving nod.  “Hello, Torn,” she said quietly.  Her eyes shifted to Naota - the one she had not yet met.  “I don’t believe I have had the pleasure of meeting you, yet,” she said softly, but did not move from her seat.

She sat back on the cushions of her seat, knowing full well that they would wait for Moliira to arrive before any actual discussion would take place - but she was interested to know if her thought of why Angela had called them to Conclave was correct.

Angela's call came, but it was not an urgent one.  It felt more friendly, and Moliira took her time to answer it.  She had to admin that it would be interesting to meet the new powers that be, and took a moment to make the proper impression in appearance.  Her favorite boots were clean of mud at least, and the dark green leather leggings went well with a cream colored blouse embroidered with Drow runes completed her simple dressing.  Quickly braiding her hair back, Moliira decided against bringing sometime.  Angela seemed to have that quite well in hand.

Her stormcloud eyes scanned those already gathered before she actually said anything.  Angela looked troubled, but with the recent upheavals, Moliira could understand.  She could only raise an eyebrow at Torn, she could quite see what her niece saw in the man.  He did have style at least.  The other new one was here too, his chair told her quite a bit already. She would have to speak with him later.  Moliira preferred knowing what she could as soon as possible.  And then there was Dalanesca, whom she greeted first.  "I feel as if I have missed something, you look well, my friend," she said, approaching the woman first.  Gently squeezing her shoulder in a silent show of support, Moliira made it clear she didn't expect Dalanesca to get up.

Making her way to her own seat, she smiled.  The stone looked like obsidian flecked through with silver, and it was carved all over with wolves, fae, and many other forest dwellers.  A mist of clouds hung behind it with a gentle rumble of distant thunder.  "So we are almost all here.  What of our Lady of the Depths?" she asked, looking towards Angela.  She had called the meeting, she should know the answer.

Angela took a deep sign as she watched the young god in all of his glory. “Good things happen to those who know how to wait. I’ll tell you when the others get here.”

Fuck off, I’m busy. She had never heard Skadi’s voice before but with an irritated sigh, she decided to dismiss it. They could do without that one for now.

Now Naota joined them and she let her face show a soft smile towards the nervous one. “You need to relax. You’ll give Echo-Rose grays if you aren’t careful, not that you could tell if she got them.” She teased him softly as she always did. “How does she fair by the way? I know her adjusting to this lifestyle is hard for her.”

Angela shifted more as Dalanesca showed up and she almost bolted out of her seat. She took the young god and held her softly to help sit her down. “Now now, you shouldn’t be stressing yourself too much.” She took time to smile down at the belly the woman had grown. “Don’t want Rohan’s playmate to get all stressed out.”

Since she knew they might be waiting for Moliira for a bit she chuckled. “Naota is one of our new gods. He was the one who was giving my daughter heartache not that long ago.” She was waiting for Naota to try to yell at her but still she chuckled. “He is making my sister’s head mage quite happy! Oh, it’s like we’re one big family now isn’t it?!”

She merrily sat back down in her seat as Moliira showed up. The elder goddess was still upset at Skadi but she let a sigh come out. “Missed something you did! I had to tell her myself! Must have gotten baby fever from Rohan being born.” She chuckled more before feeling the smile slipping again. “How to put what Skadi told me… She said “Fuck off, I’m busy.”” 

Moving one leg over the other Angela sighed. “We’ll begin now since it’s obvious our sixth member won’t be joining us.” Pushing herself up now from her comfortable position she paced back and forth. “The world’s vision has changed. It wasn’t so long ago that the Voice chose three of us to watch over the rest of our brothers and sisters because we survived what should have killed us.” Her eyes met with Moliira’s as she paused.

“But, things have changed. Mendean probably thought he was untouchable. We were untouchable.” She gritted her teeth. “He was young and he had a tendency to forget we were all mortals once.” She was upset clearly. “He fell and disappeared. Then… I may or may not have shattered reality due to having past aggressions with the Tree. Because of these things we’ve all changed. Powers have shifted. Dalanesca became one of the Three Powers that hangs just below the tree. My spheres have changed drastically…”

She took another pause. “And the spheres of others have been added to our pool. Torn, Naota, Skadi, and we’ve never held a meeting for the others who have fallen more recently. Brynn, Chae, and Dalanesca before those three. We should be in more contact than we have been. That’s what makes Gods strong. We don’t have to like each other but our job is to make sure the world doesn’t fall apart. Heavens knows the Tree will just spank us if we do.” She tried to lighten the mood.

She let her fingers play with each other as her nervousness grew. “Get to know each other because if another god falls off the wagon so soon we’re going to need each other. I know the good majority of you already. Torn is screwing my niece and Naota is screwing my sister’s mage. However, Moliira and Dalanesca do not know you. So take the time to learn each other. I don't know if Skadi will last long with her attitude and to be fair it's rather annoying." 

Torn rolled his eyes as Angela told him to wait. He had never been patient, and meetings of this kind clearly didn’t agree with him. He kept nibbling on cookies, growing increasingly frustrated with each new arrival, wanting to get things over and done with.

He gave a lazy wave to Naota when he appeared, watching with interest how he interacted with his own throne. He chuckled at how uncomfortable naota seemed to be with the situation, particularly about the expression on his face when he sat down on his throne for the first time. It was amusing to him, that a man chosen to be a god could be so reluctant about the whole thing. “Only us so far,” he confirmed, gesturing to the cookies and tea. “Grab ‘em before I do,” he continued, just as a fourth deity entered the conclave.

He noted Dalanesca’s disapproval when she appeared. Was it the throne? Torn concluded it had to be, since his was so relaxed compared to the others. He also concluded that since he was such a likeable person, it couldn’t be his personality in general. In the end, he didn’t think anything of it - he remembered how grumpy Keira was when she was approaching birth, and chalked it down to that.

Torn had almost slipped into a daydream by the time Moliira arrived, and barely registered the way she looked at him. It wasn’t until she spoke to Dalanesca that he snapped out of it and properly perceived her presence, eating up the rest of his cookie, looking at Angela to get this thing going, already.

Torn listened half-heartedly as Angela gave her introductory speech. The history behind recent events didn’t really interest him much, at the moment. He’d much rather read about it (now that he’d learned how) and write a proper song about it all, himself. It wasn’t until Torn and Naota were introduced that he finally decided to give the meeting his undivided attention.

“Well, we’ve all met,” Torn began, as Angela finished speaking. “And I think I made an impression on you all, for good or ill,” he started, grinning. “So I suppose I’ll let Naota introduce himself. Be gentle, he’s a little reserved,” he joked, letting Naota give his introduction on a high note.

His worries fluttered away when she mentioned Echo.  Merely thinking about her was able to help him find more sure footing.  Surely had she been there she would have arched an eyebrow with fixed hands on her hips at him being so nervous.  The two had fought side by side on more adventures than he could count, and…one in particular that he didn’t like to think about.  Where he’d almost lost her.  How it’d been entirely his fault that it had happened in the first place.  The affirmation of never letting something like that happen again, and having the power to do so, rebuilt in him some of his dwindled strength of mind. 
 
Still, it was odd sitting here knowing that Minasé wouldn’t be there to silently chide him and mumble on about how he was bored and wanted to go elsewhere.  Though, if the two hadn’t been split he doubted he would have been able to accompany him at all given this was a hallowed space where only few were permitted.
 
“She is…”  His voice trailed off in thought, thinking about how she’d been when she’d first awoken in their bedroom, the look of panic she’d had on her face in his temple before she’d realized where she was. “She gets better each day.  The fillies and colts help I think; give her a taste of the life she had before.  The positive parts of her life that she had of course.”  The emerald of his eyes shifted to deep amethyst and glowed brighter without his realizing as he thought of her in the pen with the young steeds.  For someone so deadly in combat she could be so graceful.  And then he remembered her swearing in the ring and smiled.
 
As the next deity arrived he went back to being silent, even though he’d barely spoken since getting here.  He’d heard of the Gods before but aside from Angela and the fallen Triune he’d never really interacted with them.  Chae hadn’t been a deity when he’d met her, and Natsumi…well, Natsumi was Natsumi and she’d always be different to him no matter what happened.  His eyes softened as he nodded gently towards the new arrival, her swollen belly hadn’t gone unnoticed, “I’d be honored whenever you’ll have me…”  Again he dipped his head, but his attention quickly averted back to Angela when she spoke again.
 
His heart caught in his throat and his eyes widened when she spoke of the situation with Holly.  A strange feeling formed in his skull, and for a moment he feared for the numbness of Natsumi’s lock but…Natsumi was gone, and he was ascended: there was no lock.  And he felt the full force of each negative emotion: guilt, regret, remorse, anger, hurt, sadness, embarrassment…Even if Angela could speak of it so easily, he couldn’t, and what’s more it was something very personal that he would have preferred to keep away from the ears of people he’d never met.  Which made him wonder: she spoke of it so easily…had she talked to other people about that incident?  Holly was her daughter, he couldn’t blame her for venting her frustrations for her daughter’s heartache to her brethren, but…there was still a feeling of betrayal that he couldn’t shake.
 
The loving purple hue of his eyes slowly bled to ruby and he stayed silent, willing his heart to calm despite the increasing glow of the marks on his arms.  It had been a while since he’d felt such negativity and he wondered just how much of it Natsumi had kept back with her lock now…And wondered if there was a way to put it back.  Echo…think of her.  And it wasn’t difficult since Angela mentioned her again.  This wasn’t how he wanted his first meeting to go and he closed his eyes for a moment, fingers gently touching the hilt of Torinasu for a second or two, letting it drain away some of his negativity before resting both hands in his lap once more.
 
When his eyes opened they moved to The Storm Wolf.  When last he’d seen her it was on the back of a great dragon during the breach and his smile returned as he watched the shifting clouds of her throne.  Least known of all was Skadi, in fact he couldn’t recall if he’d ever seen her in person.  She had ascended soon after Natsumi had gone and he wondered if a part of him kept his distance from her for that reason.  It was like she was her replacement and he wasn’t ready to swallow that pill.  Though his eyes widened with a surprised half laugh when The Mother relayed Skadi’s message, to which he shrunk down and feigned a cough in the back of his throat.  All right…maybe the two of them would get along.
 
He listened and watched Angela as she spoke of the past fallen, and despite himself his eyes saddened.  He hadn’t worked long with Mendean, but what little time he’d spent with the man hadn’t been bad.  That was such a hectic series of events though, it all nearly ran into a blur of madness and blood.  Responsibilities like these were exactly why he had to learn to let go of his past problems: just as Torn had said. 
 
Speaking of Torn, his lips parted when Angela spoke of him and his mouth dropped completely when he referred to him in the same way. Wh-…  He’d hardly describe what his relationship with Echo was as ‘screwing her’.  Again his eyes shifted to ruby to match the heat that ran into his cheeks.  Another thing about being a deity he’d have to get used to?  The lack of privacy in his personal life apparently…
 
Listening to Torn helped though.  For some reason he’d picked up a lot of disapproval of him from the others, but he couldn’t figure out why.  Not yet at least.  Watching him speak so easily despite his situation helped a lot more than the other man could possibly know but his eyes widened and shifted back to bright green when it was time for him to speak.  No Minasé, no one to tell him to stop clamming up and say something already! 
 
His eyes moved to their varying sets as his heart pounded in his ears, and he resisted the urge to grip Torinasu’s hilt as he sat up straighter in his seat, lips parting to speak, “Y-Yes well…Thank you Torn.”  He looked to him with a small and nervous smile before looking forward again, trying to strengthen his voice though it stayed ever soft, “To be honest I’m not sure why I was chosen…But I strive to live up to whatever was seen in me to do so.” 
 
He thought of the lapis lazuli, the empty vial that still pressed against his skin under his clothes, the scars he’d worn throughout his life of the hundreds of sets of fangs that had tried to drain him: scars that disappeared with his ascension.  Of his mother dying as she gave birth, his parents that didn’t care about the blood in his veins, but instead cared for the beat of his heart: all of these things and more had led him here today and he was ready to accept it.  Come what may.
 
A wider smile spread across his lips, “And…I thank all of you for welcoming me.  I also apologize for being a man of very few words…”  That would likely be something that would never change.

She welcomed Angela’s assistance to lower herself into her chair, though she scoffed at her comment.  “I’m not a porcelain doll, woman,” she said with a snap, though it was clear even through the testiness of her voice that she was grateful for her help.  “Rohan’s playmate is doing just fine in there - in fact, I think she’s learned how to do sommersaults,” she said with a grimace as she could feel the baby twisting within her.  When Angela explained who Naota was, and he expressed the honor of visiting her.  “Perhaps when I’m without this,” she sat, patting her belly.  It was clear from her expression that she would have every intention of conversing with him as soon as this wave of pain was over.

Moliira’s arrival was welcome.  She had not seen her Triune sister since shortly after her ascension, when she had visited her to inform her of her betrothal to Marth, as well as the fact that she and Marth were to have a baby.  It was good to see her again, and it was at least under somewhat good circumstances - not like the time she had come to see what was going on when Angela had torn a hole in reality.  “As do you,” she said in response, smiling crookedly at her first comment.  Being as short as Dalanesca was, it had to have looked silly, her having such an awkwardly large protruding stomach.  She was grateful that Moliira was not offended with her staying seated, and reclined a bit in her chair, the earlier pains having subsided.

She fell silent once more, quietly listening to Angela as she explained her reasoning for summoning them to Conclave.  She chimed in to Naota afterwards.  “You know, you’ll learn having few words won’t suit you well in this setting.  I’m normally not as reserved as I am now, but this little girl has sapped all of the energy right out of me.  You obviously know most of the others quite well.”  She shifted in her seat so she could see him a bit better while still being comfortable.  “I would very much like it if you would visit my realm sometime,” she said, with a smile.  “I think you’d find Sanctus rather interesting, being of Light and Perseverance,” she added.

She looked at Torn, only giving him a quick word.  “That hammock looks rather comfortable,” she said, obviously in jest as to their previous meeting when Torn had crafted his floating cloud into a comfortable chair for her to sit in while they traversed her realm.

She turned back to Angela.  “So… has the Voice given you any trouble after that bit of… mischief… that we got into?” she asked, with a mischievous smile.

The drow could only roll her eyes at what Skadi's reply had been, she would have appreciated the blunt honesty from the other goddess.  Alas, it didn't seem like it would happen.  She only chuckled at what Angela said of Dalanesca and her growing child, Moliira realized more time must have passed than she realized.  Then Angela started to speak, and the drow remained silent.  The Conclave had certainly been shaken up, so many had been lost in what felt like a very short span of time.  Then her eyebrows went up when Angela told of… more personal connections.  Now that was interesting, and perhaps worth knowing.  It could come in useful at a later time.  She did feel a bit of sympathy for Naota, there was nothing like having a goddess reveal your private life to everyone present.

And it seemed that Torn and Naota had already met as well.  "No one is truly sure of why they are chosen, Naota.  We were all mortals, and we all have our flaws.  But it happens, and we all do the best that we can with the hands that we are dealt.  And we all try to not fall to pride or madness," Moliira said, adding the last with a slightly twisted smile.  It was something she had seen many times, and something she had to watch for. 

She had only seen the aftermath of Angela and Dalanesca's antics, but they had certainly been something else.  What, she wasn't entirely sure.  "All of you are welcome to visit Maral'hal at any time as well.  I've seen gods and empires rise and fall.  So if you have doubts, come and speak with me.  Counting mortal lifetimes… I think I am the oldest here.  So I know a few things," she said with a chuckle.