V3 Incline 11: Nin

I quietly dip the spoon into the bowl filled with pale green balls, veined with dark chunks as if it is ore-holding earth. Touching my tongue, the clash of warmth and cold melts my food into a fine cream. A potently fresh flavour lingers as I move my tongue about to clean it off. Motrtha called it ice cream, mint choc chip...

I sigh as noise starts to come into the kitchen from the outside.

"So, the table is set, are you nearly done, Motrtha?" Aahtha asks as she walks in with Undwote who is holding whatever hound is the sausage-shaped one. I slowly open up for another spoonful of ice cream as the hound licks his master's fingers as he plays with its shadowy nose.

Keeping to myself, I hunch over a bit more as a tremor afflicts my breathing. A tired finger rubs my eye and I start to slow to a crawl. The want to eat is there, but I cannot find the will to actually do so. I'm pathetic...

Breaking down in front of a goddess, delighting in treats as if I am a simple child. I guess I should try and make the most of it, just smile and enjoy myself however I can. But, I can't, my mind is too distracted, all this ruminating is invasive and I cannot muster the force to repel it. There is no pesticide for the rodents known as Bothersome Thoughts.

Motrtha's hands land on my shoulders unexpectedly, "Yes, and Nin here was a big help!"

I smile only on the inside as I idly grasp the square-rimmed bowl.

"So how long left? These lot are getting impatient." Undwote asks as he holds up his hound in his small, child arms.

"I was just about to start sending it all up. So, if you lot start moving the plates and so on to the lift and I will sound the bell." Motrtha explains as she moves away to put the final touches on the trollies. Her siblings get to it and the hound barks eagerly as it hops onto one of the empty bottom shelves. I blink as the ship shifts about to reveal the means up and a hand rubs on my head, I cannot fathom where any of this equipment came from.

Glancing over at Motrtha as she rears her head back by the door...

"DINNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEERRRRRRR!" she yells with kitchen-rattling force. I blink as my ears ring and I cover them as the pain settles down. I am still vibrating from her voice when she comes back to sit across from me.

Looking away towards the empty pots and pans, my eyes focus on the lingering stains of forsaken food, "Should I clean up while you eat?"

"Don't be ridiculous, you are coming up there to eat with the rest of us!" she beams as she gets up, awkwardly hoisting me up from her opposing position as she does so. I am free of her grip only briefly and her walking around makes it clear what is about to follow.

"I'm not family..." I say as the concept terrifies me. Eating in a public canteen is what I am used to, a place I can walk in and out of without issue. But here, this is for a family, -the- family, the one that rules all.

"Nonsense, pure hogwash! You are our guest, now, come! Up you come." Motrtha orders as she drags me to my feet properly and towards the stairs.

"Can't I just do all the washing up and eat later!?" I ask her as I try to fight back against this immense yet gentle strength.

"Nope!" she beams, her lips forming a smirk, "However, I have no problems if you want to do all the washing up afterwards."

I frown at her slightly stuck-out tongue as she loads up the last trolley. Helping her with the final dish, she rolls it onto the lift and sends it all up. From behind, she ushers me up the stairs and I hurry up, lest she push me down onto them because my footing becomes loose. She blocks the way down once I am up and I move to hide at the back end of the dining room.

The already colour-decadent table grows as children of all shapes and sizes fill it out. Animals rest on the ground near their owners and a barrage of noise hits me. This is it, huh, the gods and goddesses of the world, sitting down for dinner. The lift bings and every single trolley I just watched be put on wheels out in an almost comical single-file.

"Wh... Where am I sitting?" I ask as I fail to see any open spots along the vast table.

"Anywhere you can find a spot is fine, Dear." she answers as she starts to roll the meals to their intended mouths. Cheers erupt sporadically and a mixture of forgetful greed and grateful voices precede hasty hunger.

I remain where I am as I watch Motrtha ferry the food, she dances slightly as she does so. With her gently singing voice breaking through the noises of the room somehow. All these smells and sights, she did all of this. It's quite impressive.

"Ey, ey, ey! What'cha doing looking at my sister for!?" a voice asks suddenly from behind. Turning to stare at the source, I am confronted by a strangely dressed, uncanny individual. My brow rises as I register how forced their tone is, they are covering up for something...

"Jaadagoren, sit down!" Motrtha barks with held-back refinement on her way back.

"Fine..." the now-revealed goddess whines as her true, feminine tone comes through. The Goddess of Mirrors, Trickery, Lies and Illusions and all the flavours of deceit imaginable. A trait that earned them the title, Goddess of Dragons as well.

So says the story of the Mirrorscale...

"Don't mind our little Shaolin Monk there, she enjoys her games. Now, sit!" Motrtha tells me before she gently shoves me in the direction of the table. As I walk down it, unsure of where I can go, I briefly glance as Undwote shares out his food with his hounds. Some force is needed when one or two go for another's first.

"Excuse me, Nin, you can sit next to me!" a soft, polite voice suggests as I walk. Looking down at the little goddess, she smiles and pats the unused cushions. I stare a little as I try to comprehend why she seems familiar. Dark, bronze skin, a plain and thorough white dress and black hair...

Aahtha?

Looking around at the rest of the table, I simply nod as it doesn't seem like I have much of a choice. Food slides into place and I wait uncertainly as some gods test Motrtha's patience while others also wait. Footsteps come down the upgoing flight of stairs and the God of gods makes Himself known. A quiet Ihtuntar in His arms.

"Alright, kidliwinks, dinner!" Kyarverin goes as He sets Ihtuntar down in a highchair. He stops and His head rises, a stern glare forming. Nervously, I try to shirk out of His view as a loud pair of hands drops down, shaking much of the glassware.

"Daddy is angry." Aahtha whispers up to me as well as she can.

"The ever-living fuck do you pricks think you're doing!? I told you no grown forms on my ship!" Kyarverin barks hysterically as a bedsheet of all things suddenly strikes down a god at the far end of the table.

"Sorry..." he says with an unfamiliar child's voice.

Looking around from my spot, the fact everyone is a child sticks out all the more. The gods and goddesses I saw earlier are all small and young-looking. With any specifics Undwote mentioned being a reality now, such as Oramvaleood's double-neck-hole shirt. The only one who is not a child, is Motrtha.

"Motr, sweetie, is everyone here?" Kyarverin asks His only mature-formed child as He sets Himself up at the end of the table. Each elbow in place, unyieldingly so on the mat-covered surface. The God of gods surveys the room with His eyes not even stopping on me despite how badly I contradict this place.

"Let me see..." Motrtha mumbles as she looks around, a hand taking off Waionr's helmeting wreath to then set it on one of the high-rising posts on the back of the chair. She rests her hand on his bald head and looks around.

She smiles at me briefly and Aahtha giggles up.

"Yes, Dad, everyone is here." Motrtha answers as she heads down to the other far end to sit down. Something that surprises me a little given how much she needs to move during meals. Would've thought she'd get the luxury of being close to the lift.

"Good... Alright! Say your prayers you lot, Daddy needs His subservience!" the Father of All demands with childish sniggering.

"We're not praying to you, Father!" Undwote moans with a bitter scowl as he leans up and high.

I start to wonder as the two verbally go for each other's throats all of a sudden. How exactly does Kyarverin keep His children compliant? A belt or a ruler isn't going to do much to beings like this. Though, I suppose being able to control every aspect of reality is the mightiest of cautionary tales to any upstart god.

I glance down at my plate as the others start to tuck in with what I presume to be heavily eye-rolling expressions.