When Tasha doesn't return within two hours, Gabriel and the others set out to find her. This is much easier once evening begins to set in, as the only campfire in the hills happens to be the one Tasha set beneath the Dragon's Throat. When they arrive, Gabriel notes, "I know that clocks are not very reliable here on the surface, but I'm pretty sure you couldn't have lost track of time. So what kept you from coming back?"

"This place," Tasha answers as she tends the fire, sounding lost in thought. She's errected a crude spit over the flames. "Here is why I exist," she murmurs, then her head tilts as she looks up. "I owed it and its Gods more than a few words. I caught dinner." Nearby, braced by two broken ruins to keep it from touching the ground, a freshly gutted dinner awaits. She gestures for the others to sit.

"I don't suppose you dug up any wild yams or such as well?" Aaron asks as he sits next to Hakeber, while Gabriel sits next to Tasha.

Tasha gestures across from her, to a pile of assorted wild greens. "I'm not much for fruits and vegetables, but I got as much as I could find. You'll have to sort them a bit; I apologize." Drawing in a deep breath, Tasha looks up in to the fading light of the dusk sky. "It did. Seeing first hand the place where it all began, and the reason something like me could exist, got me thinking. It made me think about who I was, and who I am today. I thought about the Gods, especially Abaddon. I thought about what I'm doing and who I am. And why it's not enough."

Standing up, Tasha walks over and hefts the impaled animal up, bringing it to the fire as she says, "In many ways, it all comes back to this place. Do you know what this place is?"

"That's right. A shrine to the Olympian Gods," she answers. "A sacrificial pit, over a lava flow. It smells like sulfer and that smell of fire, cinders, flame, and melting rock." Carefully, Tasha sets her load down on the spit, cocking her head this way and that until she satisfied it won't break and drop their meal in to the flames. Satisfied, she has a seat.

"I'm not satisfied with what I've accomplished. It hit me when I stared in to the fire, thinking back. I'm not the kind of person that sits well with peace. I'm not ready to be an administrator." Grabbing one end of the spit, she torques the meal, starting the process of even cooking. "Success came fast for me and I've become concieted. I want glory, and when things don't move quickly enough, I press what I have to get it. And I hate myself for it." She rubs her nose, then adds, "It can't continue. I don't want to be consumed by my ego. Or by peace, for that matter."

"Errr.. you mean you don't want to be the old you, but you don't want.. to.. not be the old you?" Aaron asks.

"Peace is important," Gabriel says. "It lets you take care of the things that you had to put aside in times of conflict."

"I know, it's as complicated as it sounds." Tasha reaches over and spots dinner, frowning at the resistance and then turning the spit again. "This place reminds me that I used to like to fight. I enjoy competition, struggling, fighting for a cause or fighting just ... to fight, I suppose." She turns to face Aarion, looking serious. "I've grown enough to know not to fight the wrong fights, at least, more than I used to. But I still want to. I just don't want the glory. It'll destroy me, if I let. Success shouldn't be its own reward." She then nods to her mate. "That's right. But I think I have too much peace now. It's unsettling. And too much ego, for want of power and prestiege. I think when we return to Abaddon, I'm going to see how I can help more. Fight the monsters. Push back the wild. That sort of thing. Even better if it's thankless."

"But the difference is, I can do it. I can take on the world. I just don't want to. I don't want prestige, not really. It's getting to me. I'm becoming corrupt, even though I tried not to. I need to get away from politics and power, or at least use that power for something more than attention." The spit gets turned again, then Tasha glances at Aaron. "There are surprises here. But not for you." She then turns to her mate, and says, "A piece of the Fenris is here."

"What do you mean, a piece of the Fenris?" Gabriel asks, looking up towards the cave mouth.

"Exactly that. A piece of the ship, lodged right under the place where I began to exist." Standing up, Tasha tells Hakeber, "Turn this every minute or so, use your nose and your hands to seeif it's done." She then turns to Gabriel and offers him her hand, clearly intent on showing him personally.

The entrance to the cave is certainly pungent, ripe with the scent of sulfer and providing a surreal quality as Tasha, already a fair shake at looking demonic, leads the wolf down in to forgotten pit. At the bottom of the carved steps is a ledge, and alcoves, but it's the former that has her interest. She walks her mate to the edge of the sheer drop above the river of fire and points.

"Far down; I forget not everyone can see as well as we can." She guides the older wolf's vision, angling his head gently until he's looking right at it.

Gabriel stops squinting, and takes out his binoculars. "It's just a bit of the hull, I think. Do you suppose it was brought from the crash site and thrown in as an offering?"

"Could be. The lava flow may have carried it down here. I thought it was more than a little coincidental, and it was part of what got me thinking." Tasha steps back, guiding her mate away from the flames. She migth sacrifice a great deal, but he isn't something she'll part with. "It's all really concidental, isn't it? Me, you, the Fenris, Abaddon. It makes me think, maybe He had always been watching out for me. Maybe he's why I'm here. And even if he's using me, he's still my God. Being here rekindled my faith, something I had become confused over, and lost track of as my fighting for peace made worshipping Abaddon difficult to reconcile. I guess if we don't get along, that's a kind of worship too."

Looking where the altar used to be, Tasha adds, "I wanted this place to know the person it helped make. I stayed here to honor it. I'd like it if we camped here. We could tell stores, about how much we've struggled through to be here."

Gabriel looks briefly concerned, but says, "Let's get back out into the fresher air. You already know most of my stories.."

"There's one more thing. You might not like it, but I'd like you to listen, because this is an apology to you, too." Tasha glances towards the pit, and back. "Besides, this is a sacrificial pit."

"Apology to me?" Gabriel asks, sounding worried. "How long were you in there breathing the fumes?"

Tasha simply grins. "It's okay, you can go if you want. I'll do what I came to do and meet you up top. It might be better that way; Hakeber doesn't look like she can handle the spit."

"You worry too much." Still, Tasha leans over and kisses him on the muzzle anyway.

Having said her piece, Tasha turns to the ledge and walks to where the altar used to be, drawing her swords, one to each hand. "O God Abaddon, hear my prayer and recieve my sacrifice. I am the daughter that you made possible, here in this place, and through Your guidance came to success through trial and growth through struggle. Though you may use me, or be my ally, I have only thanks to give. And be we enemies or friends, or should you care not for me, I offer you sacrifice, here in this place where I came to be. I am Aldara Tasha."

Bringing her swords together, Tasha turns the reformed blade over the pit, letting it hang a moment. "I created this weapon so others would know me as a Titan pilot, to feed my ego. I give it now to you in supplication and thanks." After lingering a moment, watching the beautiful work, golden edges, scatter the light, Tasha finally lets go.

The replica shaard drops down, striking the rough stone of the throat once, which sends it spinning outwards toward the center of the pit. The molten rock doesn't splash, the shape of the weapon keeps it afloat for a few moments, before the weight of the iron pulls it down beneath the glowing surface, leaving a shadow that slowly dissipates.

Tasha releases a breath as she watches her weapon fae away. It makes her feel lighter, and not just because the weapon was quite heavy. She knows her mate must be staring at her like she's crazy, but she found something here she had forgotten: the parts of her old self she should have kept, her faith, and the first step to letting go of the power and ambition that had been consuming her. No one else needs to understand, she decides. Once the weapon has vanished, she turns to her mate and nods.

"Ready to go back to the others then?" Gabriel asks, looking a bit neutral about the event.

Back at the camp.. Aaron has taken over cooking. There's a slightly burnt spot on one side of the carcass, and a contrite looking Hakeber.

A rather sulfery, sooty smelling Tasha walsk over and sits beside the rest of her friends and says, "We're going to camp here for the night. I'll probably leave early to make the ship to Amazonia, but for a little while, lets enjoy being here. Maybe tell some stories? I don't think I'm quite ready to leave."

For Tasha, it seems like the smallest thing can answer the biggest problems. Seeing where she started, thinking back on the old days, and even days not so old now, helped her remember where she's going and what she forgot. She realizes her diminishing faith left a hole in her heart, a longing, and helped paved the way for her to worship progress, and then herself. Faith is good for her soul and for her humility, and it's better yet that she think Abaddon understands her. Few others would accept that place struggle has in their life, and less an adversarial deity, but for Tasha, it works. And she had to admit, she's kind of a problem to have around, too.

Gardens of Abaddon
At the rear of the Temple of Abaddon in Dianus is a statuary garden. Statues of legendary warriors dot the area, surrounding a large circular pond in the center. A narrow footbridge leads to an island in the center, where a single gazebo is raised.

It's taken some time, and there was a certain amount of secrecy involved when entering Dianus, but Tasha if finally back on the grounds of the Temple of Abaddon in the Amazonian city, where High Priestess Nitsa is waiting for her in the gazebo. The place is eerily quiet, being a Lapi city.. Tasha had almost forgotten about that particular aspect of the place.

Tasha's kept her hood down and wings close as she made her way, finding it more than a little amusing that she returns to the Temple of Abaddon dressed with more than a passing remblance to her inner, advice giving self. She doesn't have too much time to think, though, as avoiding discovery took most of her attention. After introducing herself at the Temple entrance, she makes her way inside on her own, to the garden.

"May Prosperity arise from Blood and Chaos, through the Grace of Abaddon," the cloaked figure greets the High Priestess, folding her hands across her chest in an X patterm before she bows. When her head lifts, she's smiling.

"And have you been Prosperous, Aldara?" High Priestess Nitsa asks, bypassing further formalities. She gestures for Tasha to sit at the small table, where a tea service takes up most of the surface.

Tasha sits, as directed. "Yes," she answers, throwing her hood back and letting her wings unfurl from under her cloak, allowing them to stretch after being cramped for so long. "I completed the mission I set out to do. The Joint Expeditionary Force lives again, so that the dreams of our forebears need suffer no longer in the ashes, forgotten. I have met with Queens and Astromancers, wandered this world and others, and journeyed through space. I have found my faith again. And I return, full circle."

"Full circle?" Nitsa asks, pouring them both some tea. "Do you see this as an end point then, where you started?"

"Yes, I do. It is here before the steps of this Temple I decided I wanted to change, and here in this Temple I recieved my mission. In many ways, this is a place I go and return to. It is a home of a kind," Tasha answers, head tilting. "There are also questions."

"Questions?" Nitsa asks, with an odd smirk. "So it is not an end point, then, if you have unresolved matters still. What are your questions?"

"It's one endpoint in many circles," Tasha insists, winking. She smiles a moment longer before she allows the expression to slip from her face, replaced by the seriousness of the question she's about to ask. "You are His High Priestess; there is no one else that I am aware of that is closer to Him outside of heaven: You have told me he is a Kattha, but I have encountered another, a dream on His world; tell me, does he wear more than one face? Is there more than one Abaddon?"

"Gods are not beings like you or I, confined to a single form," Nitsa explains. "They are the embodiments of concepts. And concepts can have the same or different meanings depending on the culture and history of any given place. Our Abaddon - the god of the Olympians, of the Hearth and Forge - is our god because we defined Him. Without people, the very concepts of War, Struggle or Progress are meaningless. So it is unlikely that any such god on Abaddon would be the same as the one we revere here."

Tasha listens quietly, nodding here and there until it is her turn. "It would seem that our God Abaddon, in this form upon His world, does not care for us," the young woman admits, frowning. "He threatened me, and seduced another. He desires our demise, and would use me, and others, to that end. I believe He may be an incarnation of the world itself, a being of technology as much as faith, and it may be he has awoken after lying dormant for thousands of years. Encountering him was a crisis of faith for me; I was unable to resolve my conflict with Him in light of this contact. Far more worrying, is that He may become our enemy."

"Ah, so you speak of the God of Abaddon, and not the God Abaddon," Nitsa says. "Tell me; is He revered or worshipped on that world? Are there any faithful voices to temper His will?"

"None that I know of. He told me that I had come for Him, he seemed to know my mind and appealed to my faith in Abaddon to propose His plan. I don't think He has spoken with many mortals, or at least mortality as we know of it. You are saying that perhaps rendering unto Him would please Him?" Tasha tilts her head, then nods. "It makes sense to me, though our last communication lead little for each other to love."

"It is more that I seek to understand him," Nitsa claims, sipping her tea. "Do you remember back when you were a god, Aldara? With nobody to have faith in you but yourself - no other voices but your own ego? Is this God of Abaddon like that as well?"

"Hmmm," Tasha murmurs, thinking. She slowly nods her head. "Yes, that is ... That is like Him. He appealed to my faith, and to my weakness, but He expected no other answer than agreement. His offering was that of a being showing their power and ability to one less than themselves. It was not an exchange, though it was in part seduction. He did not seem to consider I would decline. He ..," as the memory of the event flahses in her mind, flattens her ears and grits her teeth reflexively, head shaking, "He would have forced it upon me if He had been able. He speaks to machines, as do I, and so He may speak to me easier than other living beings. I do not know if I might resist Him, should he care nothing for my bargaining."

"How many times as He spoken with you?" Nitsa asks, adding a bit of honey to her tea.

"Only once, when I rested near a volcanic region of the planet. A great Forbidden Zone had appeared there, full of monsterous creatures, one who's shadow along could cover all of this city. Like this world, the power of magic seems stromger near lava flows, and so I assume He spoke to me then because of my proximity. He spoke to another, who also dwelled nearby," the younger woman answers.

"If you don't mind my saying so, He sounded a bit.. desperate," the priestess notes. "And angry. What did He want with you?"

"Do you think so? I may have misjudged Him, as I was feeling desperate and fearful," Tasha admits. She pauses to rub the bridge of her muzzle, closing her eyes against the dream a moment before she answers, "He wished me to be a part of His plan to destroy all foreign life on His world. He said, "You cannot die yet, that would ruin everything," and that 'our' children would bring about this apocalypse, leaving the world clean for Him, our children, and the regrowth that is to come. He wasn't very descriptive on my role, but He mentioned that I would somehow help sow chaos and discort among the nations, along with 'our' children. I must rid myself of what power I have before I speak to Him again; there is too much that I alone control."

"What is it you think that you control, Aldara?" Nitsa asks, checking the sweetness of her tea with a sip.

"The weapon on a ship that can reduce cities to dust, and a Titan with the power so terrible that even one of the greatest magical nations this world has known feared its use, and sealed it," Tasha answers, sounding rather strained and tired for it. "It is corrupting, this much power. I have held it in check and resisted its use, but I know of few greater weapons on this world or another. And somehow, I have them. I keep them safe."

"And why do you think you have control over these powerful items?" Nitsa asks. "Because it is in the nature of such power to control the wielder."

"I think so because I must. The alternative cannot be allowed to come to pass. I must keep my promises and hold to my beliefs, even if I slip. Even if they are harder or different than I once believed when I made them," the young woman answers, sounding uneasy, and more than a little uncertain. "I have fought corruption and seduction in many ways, but I have focused primarily on use. It didn't occur to me how they would appeal to my desire for recognition."

"Hmmm, but have you ever actually controlled anything in your life, Aldara?" Nitsa asks, setting her cup down to devote her full, soft-eyed attention on the hybrid. "Be honest with yourself."

"No, I suppose not," Tasha admits, taking the tea poured for her and looking down in to it. "Nothing save my choices, and maybe not even those. It is possible I was always meant to be here. To come to you. To find these things. I visited the place where I began; there is too much coincidence to dimiss. Even Aldara, the name I have been given, seem to be more than coincidence. But," she looks up, "I have to believe my choices matter. Maybe I'm too proud to admit otherwise, to admit failure. To back down, even in the face of these things, both because it is unpaltiable and because I fail to trust ... or trust to fail. I have been the heart of our group, and what good is a heart that has no faith in itself? How could anyone follow me, or trust me? And if not me, then who?"

"Faith is a wonderful thing," Nitsa says. "It can be used to inspire.. but also to bypass uncomfortable questions. I choose to believe that we mortals do not control anything, but merely guide things as best we can. We can create children in our own images, and try to make them behave as we want, and not have any of our own flaws or protect them from our past mistakes - but it never works. We can command others, and if the commands are proper they may be obeyed, but we do not control those being commanded. Control is not something associated with living beings. One can pull the trigger of a crossbow, but not control the flight of the arrow - only guide it. People who follow you wish to be guided by you, or else arrive at the destination you map out. Faith and trust are things that must be flawed in order to work, do you see? There must be questioning and reevaluation. There must be mistakes. Wisdom is not knowing, or controlling.. it is understanding how much one does not know or control,

accepting that.. and still getting on with the task at hand without worrying over it."

Tasha perks up as she listens, eyes widening. At length, she nods and says, "That makes sense! Throughout these last efw months I've tried to control everything -- myself, the technology I hold, others, my fame, my life, other people, and each time I find myself confounded and regretful, wondering at my failure to achieve the control I desire, even hating myself for my weakness in doing so. Only when I've let go, reevaluated, and let things flow in to place have I found any peace. And even then, it's a peace with more to do." She takes in a deep breath, leaning back, exhaling. "I even tried to control Abaddon. When he threatened me, I thought to defeat Him. And since He threatened what I loved, and myself as well, I rejected Him."

"He seems to be at least in part a reflection of your own fears," Nitsa says. "That is not to say He is not a real, separate entity, merely one that.. lacks a certain self-definition, so borrows it from others. But do not let perceived power worry you - it too is something separate from you. Like the arrow, you might guide it, but aim is not control. Once loosed, the power follows its own path. This is why those who do achieve great power so seldom use it directly, lest it turn back on them. The same is true of children, really."

"You think He was drawing off me, to define Himself?" Tasha had never thought of this; it makes sense to her, given his odd apprach and seemingly inept manipulation for one claiming to be a god. If he does not have a sense of self as she knows it then He must be forming it as best He can, which, she realizes, is also not unlike her. It makes her feel a sudden sympathy for the god, who may have had so little contact with others as to not even have a self in which to be. She also has to agree on the point about power, "What you say about power makes sense to me. Were I to ever use the first weapon, I would forever be an outcast. There would be no turning back. It would destroy me, to be abandoned, and to bring so mucb harm. Were I ever to pull the trigger, the person I am would cease to exist."

"There may be a reason to use the power in other ways, but as you say, these events control the situation guiding me as I guide the response. The Titan is an unknown, but my fear and burden inspire me to find creative uses that minimize its use as a weapon, and so in time, it may no longer be one. Even so, situation dictates I use it carefully, for all the reasons of the other one, and because I am bound by my own promise," Tasha concludes.

"Remember: power controls the wielder," Nitsa warns. "It wants to be used, and control is an illusion. The only actual control you can really have is in your decision to use it or not. When you carried a whip, did you think of what you could use it for besides its intended purpose? You don't owe power anything, Aldara. It was there before you found it - it has had other masters before you. And how did they fare? Are you smarter or wiser or more clever than they were? These are things you must keep in mind. And think of your rash God of Abaddon: power seeking use. Seeking someone to use it."

"What a horrifying thought ... Am I smarter, wiser or more clever than the Priest-King? The Khattans? Queen Jade-Eyes?" Tasha grimaces, pushing her hair back. "Well, I can at least claim to have turned down being a god, so ... so ... I guess I ... am?" She sounds uncertain. "Priest-Queen Jade-Eyes feared the power, so if what you're saying is true, that fear guided her to pass it on when confronted, to a young woman who just happened to ask and could make a big speech." At this, the young woman makes a face. "I'm not the controller of power, I'm it's garbage bin! A caretaker! A convienent outlet to be ride of it by those older, wiser, and experienced enough not to want it. And maybe ... Maybe I can do some good with it."

She then chuckles before she asks, "So you think Abaddon is not seeking to use me, but to have me use Him? Or are we both beings of power that seek mutual use? We each hold for destruction. Perhaps we are both our weaknesses seeking the other."

"Gods are strange that way," Nitsa remarks. "Tisiphone never had a very high opinion of them, according to the ancient texts."

"Is that so?" Tasha asks, brows raising. "I have to admit, it is strange and uncomfortable for me to think of gods as seeking my use, or being inferior or lacking in a way I may not be. Part of my faith in Abaddon is supplication; supplication honors him, but it is also good for me. Humility is something I struggle with. I realized just how much I missed the time when I was here, when I served under Abaddon rather than for myself. Now that I look back, it may be the same fear that persuaded the Queen to release her power to me. It is easier to serve. It is less burdensome. And, it is freeing in its own way, especially when it is voluntary. When I look at it that way, with so many of us seeking to to release our burdens, have their problems fixed, supplant their own decision making, and beg answers ... I think would say that I feel sorry for them, for whom do the gods pray to?"

"They likely pray to us I would imagine," Nitsa says, quite seriously. "Where else would a 'perfect' being turn but to 'flawed' ones for insight?"

"Like a broken mirror," Tasha agrees despite herself. "If that is the case, and if our reckless Abaddon came to me, then the least I can do is listen and be there for Him, even if He is cruel to me. I can shoulder that burden, I think." She tilts her head, then corrects, "No, I will. I will find a way."

"Gods can carry the world on their shoulders, Aldara," Nitsa says. "Be careful what you agree to carry. Was there something else you wanted to ask me about?"

Tasha grimaces again. "Knowing me, I'll agree long before I understand what I am taking on. I guess," and she shrugs, "it can be no other way. Here's hoping for better." She lifts her tea and raises it to her host, then takes a sip before answering, "Yes. A few miscellaneous questions, as I'm not on this world solely to answer my questions of faith. We are looking for several stones. I'm also curious as to how the Gash of Fenris was named -- perhaps you still had contact with Rephidim, back then? -- about my name, and about a place called the Dragon's Throat."

"The Gash of Fenris?" Nitsa asks, grinning now. "It was named by Tisiphone, of course. First to the Sinha nomads, and then to the Valkyrian settlers. The Dragon's Throat I have heard of - one of the old sacred fire springs in Olympia. The only reliable one, as others would come and go, diverted by the odd fluctuations within Moltpaa."

Tasha ears shoot up at the revelation. "Is that so? Tisiphone?" She gives her muzzle a little smack for the shock and for not having guessed in the first place. "That's really an interesting surprise. It would also help to explain something, you see, my mother and father ... the Dragon's Throat was where they came together. I have been told without the spark of magic -- without that place -- I would not have come to be. And, deep in that fire spring, there is a piece of 'star metal' -- a piece of the Fenris itself."

"Many miracles happen at the Dragon's Throat - that is why it is sacred, after all," Nitsa points out. "Are you thinking Tisiphone had a hand in your conception?"

"It would follow the pattern of events nicely, but I don't need it to have happened for my life to make sense. Pattern is very convienent, though. It means fewer questions and less uncertainty, and it's tidy besides," Tasha answers with a smile. "Although, I have seen that woman since our last meeting. She told me she is who I believe her to be and had once been a part of my mind. How that ties in to Tisiphone is more than I can say."

"In a way, I may be less 'miracle' than 'repayment' for my mother and father's indiscretion," she adds, grinning.

"Now you are starting to sound like a priestess," Nitsa notes. "Keep your mysteries close, and.. make sure they are mysterious to others as well."

"It is probably my fate, especially if I seek out Abaddon on His world. If I am half so good as you, I will count myself lucky," Tasha says with a smile. "Speaking of which, in the future I may have to reconcile my religious beliefs with my political intentions, in particular the Star followers. I have nothing against them; in fact, I know very little about them save that, at least for those on Abaddon, they are quite warlike, which is something we have in common. Monotheists, though."

"That type can be aggressive in spreading their beliefs," Nitsa notes. "Do you want such to be worshipping the god of that world, and defining it?"

"No. As much as I like the Silent-Ones as individuals, as a civilization, they are haughty and elitist. Abaddon would become the Star, or a agent of the Star, and then, a Silent-One like themselves," Tasha replies. "The Abaddon I have followed is the God of Conflict and Fire, which I see as trial and tribulation, but also as growth and strength. Fire is the element of the forge, and thus the father of technology. It is also symbolic of passion, effort, energy, and living. He is also the god of war and conflict, but this is just a part of His nature as I see it. War, complex as it is, is not regarded as the highest for of conflict, though perhaps one of the most direct. If I seek followers, I must find them in those that believe in effort, struggle, technology, and living. Thankfully, these are not rare in the peopleof Abaddon."

"I will admit the Silent-One culture has some excellent artisans and craftsmen, so perhaps there will be some among the People who will appreciate and alternative," Tasha adds.

"Not me specifically, as I already have them in a sense, and my hands are full with the ones who believe in me as it is," Tasha answers, chuckling. "No, Abaddon may want them, whether He realizes it or not. As you say, there is none to believe in Him, and He may get tired of listening to me, so I should plan for alternatives. Also, I will need help and people I can delegate to, and those with other skills that compliment ours. But this, of course, need not happen soon."

"He sounds like a dangerous god yet," the Lapi woman notes. "The more people He comes into contact with, the more likely He will find a prophet willing to carry out His desire for destruction. It might taint the reputation of our Abaddon."

"Hmm," Tasha murmurs before taking another sip. "Maybe I should limit His contact to myself alone until I am more sure of Him. Should he find a prophet that fits His desires despite my efforts, then I will just have to explain my side." Tasha exhales a sigh, head shaking. "Then again, some times we need pummel someone to get our point across."

"Assuming you can contact Him again at will?" Nitsa asks with a raised eyebrow. "Even I cannot summon Abaddon on a whim. Nor Nike or Tisiphone, for that matter. Tisiphone has her own agenda, and contacts us when it suits her. The others tend to be less active."

Tasha holds up her hands. "I'm talking in a purely best-case-scenario basis. As far as I'm aware, He only speaks to machines, and as I am the only one I know of who has a link that can speak with machines, I can forseeably limit contact among organic life. Inorganic life will be harder, but I have taken measures on that front. I apologize, I am still a Vartan and prone to talking bluntly about subjects I assume others take as cautious." Lowering her hands, Tasha picks up her tear and settles it back in her lap. "I did not mean to supplant you or assume powers I do not have. It is just supposition based on the very limited facts on hand. Anyway, as to the pummeling and the explaining, I meant seeking out the prophet, not confronting a god. Not directly."

"If He is limited in who He can speak to.. then perhaps the threat is not so great," Nitsa notes. "What state were you in when you first made contact?"

Tasha thinks for a moment on how to word her answer, deciding on, "Compromised," in a delicate offering. "I had just escaped what I believed was my end, after witnessing horrors from, and this may be literal, beyond imagining. Creatures from another dimension. And this after a long, uncertain flight in to uncharted territory. If I had perished, it would have been a crash in to lava, recalling the end of the Fenris." Tasha takes a moment to have a sip, savoring it for a second or two as she pushes the unpleasant memory out of her mind. "I stepped outside to have some air and fell asleep. He came to me then."

"I should tell you now that one of the weapons I mentioned belongs to an ancient vessel, one with a mind of its own, and that He spoke to her, and convinced her to His cause, that she be His vessel. He named her 'Enyo.' I found her later and was able to convince her to my way of thinking, though she offered me the power and chance to carry out His will. I renamed her 'Harmonia,'" Tasha explains.

"So in a very real way, I have already met the first of His prophets. She could not act alone, though, and so could not carry out His will," the young woman concludes.

"Curious," Nitsa comments. "A boat with a mind? Impressive magic. But it does bolster the notion that control is an illusion, for you cannot control another mind, only offer guidance."

"But it seems that fear is the doorway that let this other version of Abaddon into your mind," the doe concludes.

"Yes, control is too strong a word. Or rather, too technical a one: I 'control' her drive system -- her system of motion -- in order to prevent its misuse. In all other ways, I am just her guide. I would prefer that she not need me, and be capable of her own decisions. For now, I help her understand the value of others, which she had never experienced." Tasha taps a nail against her cup, nodding. "Yes, that may be it. There is a great deal that I fear, though, and I am under a lot of stress these days. It must be a special sort of fear, or fear and proximity to the lava flow."

Tasha chuckles bitterly. "I knew these things better once. I have become too mired in power, politics and fame. You can see the corruption in my words, that I speak of Harmonia in terms of hr destructive potential rather than her identity as a person." She shakes her head, sadly. "I've become lost in questions and fears, weighing problems in results and not the cost to people. I hold on to my things of power because I do not trust others. I fear they'll use me, I fear disaster. I fear ... I am becoming a terrible person"

"And I don't know how to stop it," the young woman finishes. "I need to get away from these things."

"One may hold the tiller, but the water and wind are not to be fought, but followed," Nitsa notes. "You worry about things beyond your control, when you know now that control is not the point. Release the worries. Perhaps you could spend some time in a meditation cell?"

"I'll have one prepared," the High Priestess notes. "Unless you have other pressing business to attend to in the city?"

"No. I'e kept my arrival as secret as I can. The lst thing I need when worrying over my paranoia is Queen Tyche to convince me I am correct," replies Tasha, a smile returning to her face.

"Paranoia is often self-fulfilling," the priestess notes, standing up. "And now the tea has gotten cold. I will make arrangements for your lodging, but first I do have some actual religious obligations to tend to. I hope you've found this visit worthwhile so far."

Tasha stands with the priestess, setting her cup down. "I have. I hope I haven't offended you or the Temple of Abaddon in relating my troubles?" She asks.

"We are all about troubles here, Aldara Tasha," Nitsa notes. "We follow Abaddon, who brings order out of chaos.. and sometimes causes the chaos as well."

"Then I will take that to heart. I hope your evening is a pleasant one," say the half-Vartan as she pulls up her hood and shrugs her wings under her cloak. After a ceremonious bow to her old teacher, she follows the High Priestess in to the temple.